The Art of Theological Reflection Rev. Bruce Taylor Sunday, March 27, 2011

Transcription

1 Page 1 of 7 The Art of Theological Reflection Rev. Bruce Taylor Sunday, March 27, 2011 Today we ve welcomed a child into the life of this congregation. As a spring blossom opens, so Mairenn will unfold in many directions intellectually, socially, and spiritually. Child psychologists have mapped out the stages by which a new human being develops from her initial concerns for nutrition and safety, to her full flowering as a free standing person. This is a continuous movement, from embeddedness to self differentiation. Spirituality has its developmental stages as well, but they don t necessarily happen at the same pace as the psychological stages. For some people, they may never happen. It s important that we provide children with a setting where they can explore basic questions of meaning and the wisest teachings of humanity. We hope this church will provide such a setting for Mairenn. We hope that as she reaches school age, there will be plenty of children here with whom to explore. We hope to provide a rich network of volunteers and learners of all ages to share the journey with her. Then, we will have good reasons to hope that as Mairenn comes into the full flower of adulthood, she will embody the brave values of our liberal faith tradition. At some point the Sunday school classes are over. We can only hope that the spiritual development continues. With the responsibilities and the cares of adult life, it s not easy keep growing. Just as the child was once embedded in the womb and then the cradle, as adults we become embedded in the systems that make up this world our jobs, the economy, the political system. These systems can be much less nourishing than the womb or the cradle. Sometimes they don t respect

2 Page 2 of 7 persons at all. But as we settle in for the long haul, we accept the limits they impose on us. We come to understand ourselves according to these limits. Spirituality makes it possible to name these limits, to see beyond them, even transform them. By spirituality I don t mean the passive reception of religious stories or moral principles. I mean an active process of give and take by which we make meaning out of our experience. As Unitarian Universalists we may understand this as a process we do together. Theological reflection is a name that s been given to a deliberate practice of creating meaning out of experience, in light of our moral values and our religious understanding. We create a necessary link between thought and action. We reflect, we act upon the resulting insights, and then we reflect again upon the consequences of these actions. In this way we continuously enlarge our capacities to think and to act. Theology can be defined as faith seeking understanding. It is not just the province of trained theologians. It does not depend on a fixed definition of God. Our reflection is theological: whenever we use our faith tradition as a frame of reference and use its teachings to make sense of a situation; whenever we open ourselves to the leading influence of the God of our hearts and our understanding. Reflection is just what it sounds like: a kind of mirror. In this mirror we may view the big picture, discerning the larger patterns in which the Spirit moves. In this mirror we may look at ourselves and also listen, to the God within, as she speaks to us through our thoughts, our feelings and our imagination. Richard Dickey, a minister, explains reflection in this way:

3 Page 3 of 7 When I first began to pastor a congregation in the midst of the Green Mountains of Vermont, I experienced something of what it is to be a mirror. It was during the foliage season with its brilliant colors created by the changing leaves. Being new to the area, it was suggested that I visit Belvidere Pond if I wanted to see the mountains in all of their splendor. So late in the afternoon on a clear, bright, sun filled day I made my way to a little body of water surrounded on all sides by mountains There was not even a breeze to ripple the water. The surface of the pond was like glass and ablaze with fire as it collected and reflected the brilliance of the reds and yellows, oranges and browns, of the turning leaves I have since returned to that spot on numerous occasions in all seasons of the year when I sought peace. Although the setting always is beautiful and the atmosphere restful, the conditions have never quite been the same as on that initial visit. Apart from that perfect calm that complete lack of a breeze of any sort the surface of the lake couldn t reflect the wondrous scene all about it. Lacking stillness within and without it couldn t fully mirror what it absorbed. 1 In other words, to reflect, we must learn to become still and to receive. We cannot reflect on what we do not see, or hear, or feel. We must learn to listen to our own thoughts and feelings. We must learn to listen to one another. The psychologist Carl Rogers was famous for reflecting the thoughts and feelings of his clients: He engaged them in a healing process, not by his answers or advice, but by being fully present in his listening. In this same way, we can learn to be present to ourselves, to God, and to one another. Such presence is the basis for reflection and for authentic, effective action. There is no single way to do theological reflection, but I can outline the basic steps for you. First, this disclaimer: There is some assembly required. Please DO try this at home. Or in the woods. Or even at church. 1 Richard Dickey, Andover Newton wintersession course in theological reflection, Didactic #2, The Reflection in TR

4 Page 4 of 7 * Begin with an experience that you wish to ponder: Not an intellectual question, or a problem that needs a quick fix, but an experience. (It may be an event that has grabbed your attention, a word or image that has unsettled you, or an issue that keeps coming up and seems to be intractable). * Become quiet and listen. Quiet your body to listen within; or sit quietly in a group to listen with one another. * Remember the experience you have chosen. Enter into it. Pay attention to how you feel. Pay attention to anything that comes to mind. * Give form to these thoughts or feelings by putting them into words. The very act of naming a thought or feeling may bring it out more clearly, or suggest related ideas. * Now begin asking questions of your experience. Does it remind you of another experience? Does it remind you of a story? * And in a more theological vein: how does your experience resonate with the sources of your faith tradition? With the story of your faith community? * An even bolder question: where is God in all of this? How is the God of your understanding involved in your situation? In what direction is God leading you now? * And finally: what follows from your pondering? How do you see things differently? How are you called to respond? I d like to offer you a small example from my own life. In my first job as a student minister, I was scheduled to preach on the morning of December 24, Christmas Eve, which fell on a Sunday. An evening candlelight service was also planned. The worship committee suggested that a Sunday morning service wouldn t be worth the trouble. Not many of us would come, they said. The church in question is a small church. I understood that two services in one day would place a strain on the lay leaders even if the morning service was an informal one. So I answered that it was up to them. If they wanted a morning

5 Page 5 of 7 service, I d be happy to prepare for it; otherwise, they should feel free to cancel it. (Now that s spiritual leadership at its finest!). Afterwards this decision, if I may call it that, stuck in my craw. Isn t a church supposed to be open on a Sunday morning? Who exactly is this us that the church is there to serve? The worship committee? The regular Sunday morning crowd? The whole congregation? The general public? Christmas is a lonely time for some people. Somebody in the congregation might feel the need to go to church that morning. A stranger walking down the street might see the church open and want to go inside to be with people. As I mulled things over, a few experiences came to mind from my own, privileged life. In London, I ve been walking all morning, I m jet lagged, and I m getting a splitting headache. The pleasure of exploring this city has been overwhelmed by too many crowds, too much noise. On the door of a church, I see a sign advertising vegetarian meals. I go through that door and into a courtyard, where volunteers are serving an inexpensive, healthy lunch. Here is an oasis of quiet, in the middle of a noisy city. I sit down, and I eat, and I become calm. I sit under a tree for an hour until my headache goes away. In St. Gallen, Switzerland, on a raw day in February, in a cold drizzle, the midafternoon light is already fading into to dusk. The town square is surrounded by stone buildings, all grey, conveying a deep down sense of chill. Across the square I see a lone candle in a window, flickering in its red glass candle holder. The only bit of color in the entire scene, this candle warms me from the inside. In Nashua, New Hampshire, in a blizzard, on a Sunday morning, I decide that I really want to go to church. My wife died earlier in the year and I am still grieving. I shovel out my car and drive over empty streets. I can be persistent in

6 Page 6 of 7 this way: I want to be at my church, and be with my friends. As it turns out, the Sunday service has been cancelled because of the blizzard. But there are three people inside, putting up Christmas decorations. During the worship hour I help them, and this is enough. You may remember this passage from the Gospel of Luke: Then the king will say to those at his right hand, 'Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.' Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison, and visited you?' And the king will answer them, 'Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.' (Luke 10:25 37 NRSV) As religious people we are in this business, it seems to me. We are part of this infrastructure of hope. As a religious person, what do you see when you look into the face of another human being? The person sitting in the pew next to you, or the person sitting on the sidewalk: This may be God, looking back at you! What stuck in my craw was not that some committee defined us too narrowly. What bothered me was that I said nothing. I said nothing because I did not want to appear to be self serving. I did not want to be seen as protecting my Sunday morning preaching gig. Apparently I would rather get along, and ingratiate myself with the leadership of that church, where my role was not yet established. I went back to the committee and I shared these stories with them, and these feelings. The effect was a bit startling as if I had pressed lightly on a heavy,

7 Page 7 of 7 wooden door and the door sprang open. We agreed that I would lead the service. I found some other volunteers, who were not involved in the evening performance. We created a simple, informal service. One fellow offered to play the piano. As it happened, he had a friend visiting, an opera singer, who also agreed to provide music. As it turned out, a decent number of church members came. We opened up the church on a Sunday morning and the effect was very, very warm. This may be a small example, but it shows that reflection and action must not be separated. Reflection without action is empty of meaning. Action for the sake of action has no lasting value. Action and reflection together can dislodge you from business as usual. Any situation presents us with limits but these limits are not necessarily final. When we name these limits we can imagine what lies beyond them. Having imagined this we can test it out; we can attend to the consequences and learn from them. To become human is to differentiate ourselves from the web of half truth in which our lives are embedded. The more conscious we become, the more free we become. As we pay attention to the larger patterns of our lives, we have the opportunity to see the ways in which God is leading us. In our creative actions we collaborate with the God of our hearts and our understanding to build our world together. So may it be.