Originally posted on the blog at eccri.org
ECC Jr./Sr. Conference and Summer’s End
August 17, 2015
by Charles Lane Cowen
Dear faithful blog readers,
I know you have been beside yourself with grief that there hasn’t been a new blog
entry in so long. I can’t blame you. I write riveting stuff here. (For those of you
without a sense of sarcasm, you might note that I’m attempting to be ironic.) If I’m
being totally honest, I haven’t posted anything about our last two weeks at camp
because I’m still trying to process everything that happened. The final two weeks of
camp were wildly emotional, joyous, enlightening, and profound. Even as I sit here
typing this out, I’m not sure how to put into words what went on.
First of all, both of these weeks were intensely personal. It’s hard to convey to
someone not at camp exactly what happened. I certainly hope to share the sense of
joy and closeness to God we experienced in these final two weeks, but I also want to
respect the incredibly personal stories that were shared at camp. It’s been many,
many years since I was in Junior High or High School, but the stresses of those years
stay vivid in my mind. I am blessed to have lived a very privileged life with two
supportive parents in a nice home where we never went without. Even living with
this privilege, my teenage years were filled with emotional struggles and fears. It’s
so easy for adults to write these struggles off as melodramatic teenage angst, but
what I learned in the past two weeks is that these struggles are very real. They
certainly felt real to me as a teenager, and I cannot even begin to imagine the
stresses piled on top of those already difficult years by those who do not enjoy the
privileges I did as a teen.
The most powerful aspect of the last two weeks of camp for me was how open the
teens were about sharing their struggles. There certainly were campers who didn’t
say much, but by and large people felt comfortable sharing intimate details of their
lives. They shared joys and friendships, but they also shared hurt and betrayals. It
was deeply moving to see how even those who had never been to camp before
instinctively knew that camp was a safe place for them. Perhaps even more moving
was how campers received these stories. I never once saw a camper judged,
mocked, or ridiculed for sharing stories of vulnerability. As a matter of fact, there
was much hugging, smiling, and affirming. I know that I have a tendency to focus on
my own problems in life and try to hide them from the rest of the world. We all want
to look like we’ve got it together. Let me assure you right now, brothers and sisters,
none of us has it completely together. We are a broken, hurt world. That doesn’t
mean we are without hope, however. In the midst of all the brokenness and hurt
shared by the teens at camp, there was incredible love and support. Naming our
fears and struggles, we joined together in solidarity knowing that we did not have to
navigate life’s struggles alone. We are a part of a community of the faithful.
I think the entirety of the summer can be summarized in an illustration done by Ben
Sword, the head boy counselor. For those of you familiar with the barn at ECC, you
will know that there is a cross over the altar with a relief carving of the risen Christ.
For the cover of the annual Staff Magazine, Ben drew a simple but beautiful version
of this cross. Each point of the cross has the symbol of one of the four Gospel
writers, and there in front of the cross, but no longer bound by its torture to the
point of death, is the glorious resurrected Jesus. With his hands outstretched in a
wide embrace of all of humanity, Jesus looks out into the beauty of creation. In Ben’s
version of the risen Christ, however, Jesus’ face is blank. There are no eyes, ears,
nose, mouth—just an outline of a head devoid of features. When I looked at this
simple drawing, I realized that Ben had captured the entirety of our summer and
our life in Christ. The face of Jesus could not be drawn because Jesus has many faces.
At our closing Eucharist I looked out at all the campers, staff, and adults that make
up our camp family, and on every single face I saw the face of Christ. Maybe Ben
was just being lazy in not drawing in the details of Jesus’ face (sorry, Ben), but I like
to think that he was making a profound theological statement that all of us can be
Jesus to one another.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: The beauty of the Christian faith is that we
worship a God that knows first-hand what it is like to be human. God, incarnate in
the person of Jesus of Nazareth, walked on this earth and knew the same joys, fears,
and sufferings that we know. He endured torture and ridicule at the hands of his
oppressors and was able to overcome not only their scorn but death itself. The
people of ECC have been Jesus to me. They have shared in my fears, and they have
rejoiced in my successes. They hold me up when I fall, and they celebrate my
accomplishments. The Kingdom of God is a place where we all follow Christ’s
commandment to love God and to love one another. ECC has given me a glimpse of
that future reality. I am deeply grateful for the time I have spent in this joyous place.
If you are a camper reading this, thank you for showing me the face of Christ in your
joys and your sorrows. If you are a staff member reading this, thank you for showing
me what Christ-like leadership looks like in caring for these campers and putting
their needs above your own. If you are a parent of a camper or staffer, thank you for
sharing your child with me just as Mary shared her child with the world. Everyone
else, thank you for praying with all of us and living into the unfolding of God’s
Kingdom.
If my post today seems a bit rambling, it’s because I don’t want it to end. I don’t want
camp to end. I don’t want to wake up without hearing that big cast iron bell
announcing that it’s a new day. I want always to bask in the love I have experienced
this summer at ECC. At our staff closing Eucharist, there wasn’t a dry eye in the barn.
None of us wanted the love and community we experienced at ECC to come to an
end. Here are my words of consolation: It doesn’t have to. When the risen Christ
appeared to his friends he gave them the Great Commission to go out into the world
spreading the Gospel and baptizing in his name. That is our task. We must take the
love we know at ECC and spread it throughout the world. It’s a difficult and draining
task, but the joy it brings far outweighs the work. I pray that all of you know the love
I have known at ECC. May God bless every single one of you as God has blessed me.
You are truly God’s beloved.
Monday, August 17, 2015
Older Children's Camp
Originally published on the Blog at eccri.org
ECC Older Children’s Camp
August 8, 2015
by Charles Lane Cowen
This week at Older Children’s Camp I had the great pleasure of working with the
Rev. Becky Gettel to develop chapel time. The greatest thing about Older Children’s
Camp is that we’re working with kids that still have that child-like sense of wonder
and imagination, but also have the ability to engage in deeper conversations than
many of those at Younger Children’s Camp. The second greatest thing about Older
Children’s Camp was our week-long theme of Harry Potter. As a self-professed geek
and Potter-Head, I was sooooooooo excited to talk about being God’s beloved in the
light of the Harry Potter books. Examining Harry’s journey in the books, Becky
worked out a lesson plan that looked at themes from the book as gifts from God:
I am God’s Beloved, and God has Given Me the Gift of…
Friendship
Animals
Nature
Conscience
Self
Each day in chapel we explored how these gifts remind us that we are God’s beloved,
and how we act toward our friends, animals, nature, and ourselves reflects God’s
love for us. For me, the lynchpin for the entire week came in the gift of Conscience.
In the Harry Potter books, Harry is always getting in trouble for breaking rules, but
he almost always does so because he is trying to help a friend. I realize the danger of
teaching kids that sometimes they need to break the rules, so we also emphasized
that Harry had to pay pretty severe consequences for breaking the rules. He also
rarely, if ever, acted alone. There were always friends, trusted adults, and teachers
guiding him. In chapel time we explored ways of making good choices in life through
prayer, Christian education, and relying on our friends and family. Becky came up
with a great idea of having the children walk the labyrinth behind the Tower of
Silence. Each child picked out one plain, heavy river stone representing bad choices
and one smooth, polished, colorful stone representing the right choice. The children
walked into the labyrinth, left the ugly stone, and returned into the world with the
colorful stone.
I know that when I look back on my choices in life, I often have to carry around the
weight of uncertainty. From simple things like who to sit with at lunch to more
complicated choices like do I go back to the camp buffet line for a second helping of
Chef Jeff’s amazing banana bread (the answer is yes). For kids, life is full of choices
that will dramatically affect the rest of their lives. Who will be my friends? How hard
will I study? Do I go to church? What kind of person do I want to be? Learning to do
the right thing at an early age can make making those choices easier. The beauty of
youth, however, is that even though every choice has lasting consequence, there is
still time to correct those choices. Just as the children journeyed into the labyrinth,
their lives will be filled with twists and turns that often seem to take them away
from the center. If you stay on the path, however, you will always reach the goal.
If you’ve never walked a labyrinth, I highly recommend it. (Come visit ECC, and I’d
be glad to show you ours!) Unlike a maze that has dead ends and tries to trick you, a
labyrinth twists and turns in one continuous path from the outside, to the center,
and back out again. Praying with the labyrinth is one of my favorite forms of prayer.
As I walk into the center I imagine retreating from the world and into the presence
of God. I was amazed watching the children in chapel time because, with very little
prompting, they took this exercise so seriously. Most of the children walked slowly,
purposefully, and with great awareness. Holding the heavy stone in one hand and
the lighter stone in the other, the children explored the burden of journeying with
the weight of bad choices. Once in the center, the burden was placed at the feet of
God, and the children could journey out of the labyrinth with the beauty of the small
stone reminding them of the warmth and beauty of God.
I went back later that day for my own daily practice of praying the labyrinth. As I
worked my way into the center I found myself standing at the pile of stones the
children left behind. It was an incredible moment of feeling the closeness of God. I
noticed the beauty of nature that surrounds the labyrinth. I listened to the birds
singing all around me. I marveled at the choices the children had brought before God
to pray on, and I felt connected—to God, to animals, to friends, and to self. The
entirety of our week’s lessons was summed up in this little exercise I had been doing
since arriving at camp about a month earlier. I began my journey out of the
labyrinth, but something felt different. Whereas before I always spent my moment
of quiet in the presence of God at the center of the labyrinth and then journeyed
back into the world, this time I felt as if that presence were following me. It was a
sensation like a bungee cord tied to the rocks at the center of the labyrinth. Even
though I had to go back to the noise and chaos of camp—and in a few more weeks to
the real world—I felt a strong pull connecting me to God. It took seeing these
campers and their great faith to help me realize that.
If you haven’t figured this out yet from my previous blogs, I think that camp is a
pretty amazing place. Celtic spirituality, which also utilizes labyrinths, teaches that
there are thin places and thin times when the veil between heaven and earth
becomes transparent. In these times and places we can catch glimpses of the divine.
When I’m at camp, I feel like I see what the Kingdom of God will look like. It’s full of
people singing God’s praises, and loving one another unconditionally. It’s a place
where we carry the burdens of tough choices, but we carry them surrounded by
friends who help us understand that we can give those burdens to God. A camper
last week asked me about heaven. I don’t believe heaven is just some place we go
when we die. Life’s not a board game where the winners go to heaven and the losers
go to hell. I believe that the living Christ teaches us how to live our lives in such a
way that we love God and love one another. Heaven is the achievement of that goal.
The Kingdom of God is most certainly at hand, and I believe that I see a glimpse of it
in the children playing at that thin place we call the Episcopal Conference Center.
ECC Older Children’s Camp
August 8, 2015
by Charles Lane Cowen
This week at Older Children’s Camp I had the great pleasure of working with the
Rev. Becky Gettel to develop chapel time. The greatest thing about Older Children’s
Camp is that we’re working with kids that still have that child-like sense of wonder
and imagination, but also have the ability to engage in deeper conversations than
many of those at Younger Children’s Camp. The second greatest thing about Older
Children’s Camp was our week-long theme of Harry Potter. As a self-professed geek
and Potter-Head, I was sooooooooo excited to talk about being God’s beloved in the
light of the Harry Potter books. Examining Harry’s journey in the books, Becky
worked out a lesson plan that looked at themes from the book as gifts from God:
I am God’s Beloved, and God has Given Me the Gift of…
Friendship
Animals
Nature
Conscience
Self
Each day in chapel we explored how these gifts remind us that we are God’s beloved,
and how we act toward our friends, animals, nature, and ourselves reflects God’s
love for us. For me, the lynchpin for the entire week came in the gift of Conscience.
In the Harry Potter books, Harry is always getting in trouble for breaking rules, but
he almost always does so because he is trying to help a friend. I realize the danger of
teaching kids that sometimes they need to break the rules, so we also emphasized
that Harry had to pay pretty severe consequences for breaking the rules. He also
rarely, if ever, acted alone. There were always friends, trusted adults, and teachers
guiding him. In chapel time we explored ways of making good choices in life through
prayer, Christian education, and relying on our friends and family. Becky came up
with a great idea of having the children walk the labyrinth behind the Tower of
Silence. Each child picked out one plain, heavy river stone representing bad choices
and one smooth, polished, colorful stone representing the right choice. The children
walked into the labyrinth, left the ugly stone, and returned into the world with the
colorful stone.
I know that when I look back on my choices in life, I often have to carry around the
weight of uncertainty. From simple things like who to sit with at lunch to more
complicated choices like do I go back to the camp buffet line for a second helping of
Chef Jeff’s amazing banana bread (the answer is yes). For kids, life is full of choices
that will dramatically affect the rest of their lives. Who will be my friends? How hard
will I study? Do I go to church? What kind of person do I want to be? Learning to do
the right thing at an early age can make making those choices easier. The beauty of
youth, however, is that even though every choice has lasting consequence, there is
still time to correct those choices. Just as the children journeyed into the labyrinth,
their lives will be filled with twists and turns that often seem to take them away
from the center. If you stay on the path, however, you will always reach the goal.
If you’ve never walked a labyrinth, I highly recommend it. (Come visit ECC, and I’d
be glad to show you ours!) Unlike a maze that has dead ends and tries to trick you, a
labyrinth twists and turns in one continuous path from the outside, to the center,
and back out again. Praying with the labyrinth is one of my favorite forms of prayer.
As I walk into the center I imagine retreating from the world and into the presence
of God. I was amazed watching the children in chapel time because, with very little
prompting, they took this exercise so seriously. Most of the children walked slowly,
purposefully, and with great awareness. Holding the heavy stone in one hand and
the lighter stone in the other, the children explored the burden of journeying with
the weight of bad choices. Once in the center, the burden was placed at the feet of
God, and the children could journey out of the labyrinth with the beauty of the small
stone reminding them of the warmth and beauty of God.
I went back later that day for my own daily practice of praying the labyrinth. As I
worked my way into the center I found myself standing at the pile of stones the
children left behind. It was an incredible moment of feeling the closeness of God. I
noticed the beauty of nature that surrounds the labyrinth. I listened to the birds
singing all around me. I marveled at the choices the children had brought before God
to pray on, and I felt connected—to God, to animals, to friends, and to self. The
entirety of our week’s lessons was summed up in this little exercise I had been doing
since arriving at camp about a month earlier. I began my journey out of the
labyrinth, but something felt different. Whereas before I always spent my moment
of quiet in the presence of God at the center of the labyrinth and then journeyed
back into the world, this time I felt as if that presence were following me. It was a
sensation like a bungee cord tied to the rocks at the center of the labyrinth. Even
though I had to go back to the noise and chaos of camp—and in a few more weeks to
the real world—I felt a strong pull connecting me to God. It took seeing these
campers and their great faith to help me realize that.
If you haven’t figured this out yet from my previous blogs, I think that camp is a
pretty amazing place. Celtic spirituality, which also utilizes labyrinths, teaches that
there are thin places and thin times when the veil between heaven and earth
becomes transparent. In these times and places we can catch glimpses of the divine.
When I’m at camp, I feel like I see what the Kingdom of God will look like. It’s full of
people singing God’s praises, and loving one another unconditionally. It’s a place
where we carry the burdens of tough choices, but we carry them surrounded by
friends who help us understand that we can give those burdens to God. A camper
last week asked me about heaven. I don’t believe heaven is just some place we go
when we die. Life’s not a board game where the winners go to heaven and the losers
go to hell. I believe that the living Christ teaches us how to live our lives in such a
way that we love God and love one another. Heaven is the achievement of that goal.
The Kingdom of God is most certainly at hand, and I believe that I see a glimpse of it
in the children playing at that thin place we call the Episcopal Conference Center.
Younger Children's Camp
Originally published on the Blog at eccri.org
ECC Blog
July 27, 2015
Younger Children’s Camp
by Charles Lane Cowen
Whew! That’s the word for Younger Children’s Camp. Even though this camp runs
fewer days than the other camps this summer, I am beyond exhausted. I have aches
in places I didn’t even know I had. Turns out that supervising, teaching, playing with,
and keeping track of dozens of younger children wipes me out. If you’re reading this
blog I’m assuming you might know one or more of the children who came to last
week’s camp, so let me assure you that my exhaustion comes not from any one child,
but from the collective. While certain young personalities proved challenging, I can
honestly say I never encountered any “problem child.” As a matter of fact, I was
really touched at how the children interpreted the Bible lessons for each day and
how they seemed to really strive to live into the lessons learned. Their enthusiasm,
exhausting though it may be, is something I hope to emulate in my own ministry.
Along with The Rev. Peter and The Rev. Veronica Tierney, I spent my days in the
Tower of Silence doing not-so-silent chapel. We began every chapel time by asking
the kids to remember the Bible lessons from that morning’s church service. I was
surprised and pleased that the kids always remembered the stories. The best part,
though, was the ways in which they remembered the stories. I grew up having the
Bible read to me by my mother, so I know my Bible pretty well. I go to church
regularly, and am taking Bible classes in seminary. I like to think I have these stories
down. Amazingly, the kids were always able to point out things about the lessons I
had never really thought about, or their focus would be on some detail I had only
glanced over. Taking this idea to heart, Peter and Veronica thought it would be fun
to split each chapel group into three sections. Peter, Veronica, and I would tell a
familiar gospel story to each group and then have them act it out for the other two
groups. This ended up being my favorite day of chapel.
My group got The Good Samaritan. In an effort not to put my own spin on the story, I
simply read it straight out of Luke. The kids had some great questions for me:
What’s a Samaritan? What’s a Levite? Why are the religious people in the story being
mean? How much money is two denarii? After answering all their questions, I asked
them what characters we needed for the story. After casting a traveler, a priest, a
Levite, a Samaritan, and a band of thieves, I said, “Well, that’s it.” For the first group
of the day, I honestly thought that was it, but the kids shouted out in protest, “No!
What about Jesus?” I explained that Jesus wasn’t really in the story, but they insisted
that there be a Jesus on the stage. Not one to squash creativity, I agreed. With very
little prompting, the boy playing Jesus stepped up next to me and began telling the
story. Every now and then he would whisper to me, “What comes next?” or “What’s
that person called again?” Otherwise, he told the story flawlessly. I was amazed at
the enthusiasm with which the kids performed the well-known tale. They even
modernized it with the robbery and robbers resembling something more like a
mugging by a city gang. Their ability to make Jesus’ story their own was powerful.
I’ll admit that watching them perform made the parable I’ve heard a million times
seem much more real—much more understandable.
The other two groups in chapel had similar experiences as they told the story of the
Feeding of the Five Thousand and The Good Shepherd. Even more amazingly, each
of the three sessions of chapel that day insisted, without prompting from me, that
there be someone to play Jesus and tell the story. Maybe I’m reading into this too
much, but the kids’ desire to literally embody the person of Jesus seems to be the
complete understanding of our Christian faith.
Do you remember the WWJD plague of the mid 90s? I do. As a kid growing up in the
Bible Belt, everyone I knew had WWJD plastered all over their lunchboxes,
notebooks, clothing, accessories, you name it. What would Jesus do? Buy all this stuff
to sell his cause? Probably not. I think the kids at Younger Children’s Camp actually
answered this question. Jesus would teach. Jesus would tell stories, and he would
tell those stories in a way that was fun, funny, memorable, and transformative. Jesus
would live a life in accordance with God’s will that we love God and love one
another. Watching these kids show genuine compassion in helping the beaten
Samaritan, sharing their few loaves and fishes, and leaving the flock to find the one
lost sheep, I saw Jesus at work.
Once again (sorry I keep beating this drum—it’s my favorite one right now) the kids
taught me something. This is the model for evangelism. By living into the life of
Jesus, we share Jesus’ message of love, acceptance, and hope with the world. Over
the course of the week, we explored the theme that “It’s a Small World.” If all of us
truly approach one another with the love of Jesus, the world indeed becomes quite
small as the one Kingdom of God. I’m not advocating for a universal theocracy here,
but I do think there’s a simple and profound truth in finding the commonality
amongst our differences. Campers at ECC come from all kinds of backgrounds, yet
within our beautiful and exciting diversity there is a beautiful and exciting love
modeled on the love of Jesus that pervades our camp.
I started out by saying, “Whew!” The exhaustion of Younger Children’s Camp still
sits with me, but so does the love. Those of you who have kids of your own or teach
or babysit, or just happen to get annoyed at those kids at the Stop and Shop being
little terrors: Look closely at them. Watch how they love. Look into their eyes, and
see the love of Jesus looking right back at you.
ECC Blog
July 27, 2015
Younger Children’s Camp
by Charles Lane Cowen
Whew! That’s the word for Younger Children’s Camp. Even though this camp runs
fewer days than the other camps this summer, I am beyond exhausted. I have aches
in places I didn’t even know I had. Turns out that supervising, teaching, playing with,
and keeping track of dozens of younger children wipes me out. If you’re reading this
blog I’m assuming you might know one or more of the children who came to last
week’s camp, so let me assure you that my exhaustion comes not from any one child,
but from the collective. While certain young personalities proved challenging, I can
honestly say I never encountered any “problem child.” As a matter of fact, I was
really touched at how the children interpreted the Bible lessons for each day and
how they seemed to really strive to live into the lessons learned. Their enthusiasm,
exhausting though it may be, is something I hope to emulate in my own ministry.
Along with The Rev. Peter and The Rev. Veronica Tierney, I spent my days in the
Tower of Silence doing not-so-silent chapel. We began every chapel time by asking
the kids to remember the Bible lessons from that morning’s church service. I was
surprised and pleased that the kids always remembered the stories. The best part,
though, was the ways in which they remembered the stories. I grew up having the
Bible read to me by my mother, so I know my Bible pretty well. I go to church
regularly, and am taking Bible classes in seminary. I like to think I have these stories
down. Amazingly, the kids were always able to point out things about the lessons I
had never really thought about, or their focus would be on some detail I had only
glanced over. Taking this idea to heart, Peter and Veronica thought it would be fun
to split each chapel group into three sections. Peter, Veronica, and I would tell a
familiar gospel story to each group and then have them act it out for the other two
groups. This ended up being my favorite day of chapel.
My group got The Good Samaritan. In an effort not to put my own spin on the story, I
simply read it straight out of Luke. The kids had some great questions for me:
What’s a Samaritan? What’s a Levite? Why are the religious people in the story being
mean? How much money is two denarii? After answering all their questions, I asked
them what characters we needed for the story. After casting a traveler, a priest, a
Levite, a Samaritan, and a band of thieves, I said, “Well, that’s it.” For the first group
of the day, I honestly thought that was it, but the kids shouted out in protest, “No!
What about Jesus?” I explained that Jesus wasn’t really in the story, but they insisted
that there be a Jesus on the stage. Not one to squash creativity, I agreed. With very
little prompting, the boy playing Jesus stepped up next to me and began telling the
story. Every now and then he would whisper to me, “What comes next?” or “What’s
that person called again?” Otherwise, he told the story flawlessly. I was amazed at
the enthusiasm with which the kids performed the well-known tale. They even
modernized it with the robbery and robbers resembling something more like a
mugging by a city gang. Their ability to make Jesus’ story their own was powerful.
I’ll admit that watching them perform made the parable I’ve heard a million times
seem much more real—much more understandable.
The other two groups in chapel had similar experiences as they told the story of the
Feeding of the Five Thousand and The Good Shepherd. Even more amazingly, each
of the three sessions of chapel that day insisted, without prompting from me, that
there be someone to play Jesus and tell the story. Maybe I’m reading into this too
much, but the kids’ desire to literally embody the person of Jesus seems to be the
complete understanding of our Christian faith.
Do you remember the WWJD plague of the mid 90s? I do. As a kid growing up in the
Bible Belt, everyone I knew had WWJD plastered all over their lunchboxes,
notebooks, clothing, accessories, you name it. What would Jesus do? Buy all this stuff
to sell his cause? Probably not. I think the kids at Younger Children’s Camp actually
answered this question. Jesus would teach. Jesus would tell stories, and he would
tell those stories in a way that was fun, funny, memorable, and transformative. Jesus
would live a life in accordance with God’s will that we love God and love one
another. Watching these kids show genuine compassion in helping the beaten
Samaritan, sharing their few loaves and fishes, and leaving the flock to find the one
lost sheep, I saw Jesus at work.
Once again (sorry I keep beating this drum—it’s my favorite one right now) the kids
taught me something. This is the model for evangelism. By living into the life of
Jesus, we share Jesus’ message of love, acceptance, and hope with the world. Over
the course of the week, we explored the theme that “It’s a Small World.” If all of us
truly approach one another with the love of Jesus, the world indeed becomes quite
small as the one Kingdom of God. I’m not advocating for a universal theocracy here,
but I do think there’s a simple and profound truth in finding the commonality
amongst our differences. Campers at ECC come from all kinds of backgrounds, yet
within our beautiful and exciting diversity there is a beautiful and exciting love
modeled on the love of Jesus that pervades our camp.
I started out by saying, “Whew!” The exhaustion of Younger Children’s Camp still
sits with me, but so does the love. Those of you who have kids of your own or teach
or babysit, or just happen to get annoyed at those kids at the Stop and Shop being
little terrors: Look closely at them. Watch how they love. Look into their eyes, and
see the love of Jesus looking right back at you.
Teen Camp
Originally published on the Blog at eccri.org
July 27, 2015
And when he was twelve years old, they went up as usual for the festival. When the festival was ended and they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. . . After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding. (Lk 2:42-7)
Reading this passage from Luke’s Gospel during Teen Camp last week gave the familiar text a whole new meaning to me. When I asked how many kids in the barn were twelve years old, a sea of hands went up. The story of twelve-year-old Jesus in the temple suddenly had a face to it. Here I was, a seminarian at the Berkeley Divinity School at Yale, looking into the faces of dozens of little Jesuses. (Is that the plural of Jesus? Jesuss? Jeesi? #thingsWeDontLearnInSeminary) That whole “made in the image of God thing became really clear to me. It was my own little encounter with the incarnation
The beautiful thing about twelve-year-olds is that they’re in that strange and trying age where they aren’t still children, but they certainly aren’t adults. They often retain that child-like imaginativeness lost in adolescence, but have the intellectual capacity to really engage in deep conversations. Coming from a background in the theatre, I really appreciate the melding of play and intellect.
As I preached on Luke’s story of twelve-year-old Jesus in the Temple, I pointed out to the campers that Jesus is actively asking questions. I’ve often heard this passage referred to as “The Boy Jesus Teaching in the Temple,” but that’s not exactly what’s going on. Sure, it says that the teachers were amazed by Jesus, and they surely learned from him, but the chief verbs in the story are “listening” and “asking.” I think most adults expect a lot of listening from kids. All day long I hear things at camp like “Listen to your councilor” and “Listen up.” Obviously, listening is important, but how often are kids encouraged to question leadership? To question the most learned? Yet that’s just what Jesus, the twelve-year-old, does.
I told the campers that our faith doesn’t require us to check our brains at the door. As a professor of mine once said, “There is no virtue in blind faith—you have to ask questions and attempt to understand.” I don’t know that our kids are often asked to question authority. As a leader at the camp, I want campers to follow instructions, particularly when it pertains to their safety, but when it comes to their faith, I want them to own it and come to as full an understanding as possible.
It should come as no surprise, then, that I spent the remainder of our week together at Teen Camp fielding what felt like millions of questions: Is Jesus God? Why is there evil in the world? Why can’t I hear God speak like people in the Bible? How can I believe in my religion and study science? I was so proud of the campers for not holding back. They asked the same questions that have frustrated and confused theologians for centuries, and they showed no shame in not having the answers. More astoundingly, even in the face of these difficult questions I found that the campers have enormous faith. Their love for one another and their love for God permeate our camp property from the waterfront, to the barn, to the edges of the Back Forty. Furthermore, when they asked these tough questions, they offered their own thoughts on what an appropriate understanding would be. More often than not, I could stay silent and listen to the campers discuss among themselves. I felt just like the teachers in the temple. Even though I’m the seminarian studying theology, I was amazed at their understanding.
I’d like to take some credit for inviting the campers to ask tough questions, but I don’t know that I can. I think there’s something about the culture of camp that has been here for generations. There’s an understanding here that all are welcome, and that means all ideas and questions are welcome. It’s a powerful thought that these campers have no fear of sounding wrong or inviting ridicule. It’s a mini glimpse at the Kingdom of Heaven where all people come together to understand, love, and serve the Lord.
Music and Creative Arts Camp
Originally published on the Blog page at eccri.org
15 July 2015
Music and Creative Arts Camp
When Meaghan Brower, the director of ECC, invited me to spend the summer at camp
she gave me two warnings: Camp is exhausting, and camp is transformative. Both items
have proven true. I have bags under my eyes, my joints ache, I have mosquito bites,
sunburn, and I’m sweating in places I didn’t even know I had. That’s all after just one
week of six I will be here! I also am having the time of my life. So far my
accomplishments at camp include but are not limited to:
learning how to whip and nae nae (Google it)
creating a life-size paper mache llama
kayaking
the subtle art of scream-singing on a big yellow school bus
coming to a deep appreciation of the effect of humidity on one’s personal comfort
level
strategies for dominating in a game of Connect Four
I also have learned enormous amounts about God and my neighbors. When Meaghan
said camp would be transformative, I assumed she meant for the kids who camp here.
That certainly is true. I am amazed at the faith and love the campers bring to this place. I
beam when I see a teenage counselors uplift a camper sitting alone and empower the
camper to join in the day’s activities. What I didn’t know was how transformative the
experience would be for me. I hate to lean on the old cliché, but the kids I came here to
teach have taught me so much. I am astounded by the talent, compassion, and generosity
these young people posses.
Our theme this summer at camp comes from Mark’s account of Jesus’ baptism. After
John baptizes Jesus, a dove appears and the voice of God says, “You are my Son, the
Beloved; with you I am well pleased” (Mk 1:11 NRSV). All week long we stressed to the
campers that because we enter into Jesus’ death and resurrection through the waters of
baptism, we, too, are God’s beloved. There’s some pretty powerful incarnational theology
at work here—because God became human in the person of Jesus, we worship a god that
knows first-hand what it means to be one of us. Jesus knew suffering, joy, friendship,
betrayal, anger, and all the complicated emotions of human life.
Thinking back to my own teenage years, I can remember feeling like an outsider. I had
horrible acne, I was bad at sports, I was far from popular, and it felt like the pressures of
social expectations would suffocate me. I have had a blessed and wonderful life, but you
could not pay me enough to go back to being a teenager. When I look at the campers at
ECC, though, I see a community where all are loved and uplifted. The greatest moment
of the week for me was watching the much-anticipated talent show. While Music Camp
ends with a large performance for family and friends, the talent show is just for the camp
community. It’s performed in the outdoor pavilion while we all sit at picnic tables or on
the ground. There’s no pomp and circumstance—just lots of fun, laughter, and play. I am
not exaggerating when I say that the talent shown by the campers was astounding. We
are blessed to have in our community brilliant musicians, poets, singers, dancers,
comedians, and artists. What amazed me the most, however, was how supportive every
camper was of their fellow campers. Every single performance, no matter how
complicated or simple, received thundering applause and loud cheers of approval.
Whether it was a large rock band rivaling the charisma of the Beatles or a single camper
reading her poetry, ALL of the acts were greeted and received with outrageous
acceptance. Furthermore, these cheers of approval were far from put on. They cheered
because every act on the stage was performed by one of our own—an ECC camper,
counselor, or staffer. Just as God shouted from the heavens that Jesus was his own
Beloved, our campers shouted from the pavilion that that was their beloved friend.
Without exception. Without hesitation.
The most valuable lesson I learned at Music Camp came straight from the young people:
God loves each one of us without exception, and we should love one another without
exception. Life’s tough. Sometimes the Roman oppressors crucify you. Sometimes kids
call you names. But in the midst of all of it the voice of God rings from the heavens, “You
are my children, my Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
15 July 2015
Music and Creative Arts Camp
When Meaghan Brower, the director of ECC, invited me to spend the summer at camp
she gave me two warnings: Camp is exhausting, and camp is transformative. Both items
have proven true. I have bags under my eyes, my joints ache, I have mosquito bites,
sunburn, and I’m sweating in places I didn’t even know I had. That’s all after just one
week of six I will be here! I also am having the time of my life. So far my
accomplishments at camp include but are not limited to:
learning how to whip and nae nae (Google it)
creating a life-size paper mache llama
kayaking
the subtle art of scream-singing on a big yellow school bus
coming to a deep appreciation of the effect of humidity on one’s personal comfort
level
strategies for dominating in a game of Connect Four
I also have learned enormous amounts about God and my neighbors. When Meaghan
said camp would be transformative, I assumed she meant for the kids who camp here.
That certainly is true. I am amazed at the faith and love the campers bring to this place. I
beam when I see a teenage counselors uplift a camper sitting alone and empower the
camper to join in the day’s activities. What I didn’t know was how transformative the
experience would be for me. I hate to lean on the old cliché, but the kids I came here to
teach have taught me so much. I am astounded by the talent, compassion, and generosity
these young people posses.
Our theme this summer at camp comes from Mark’s account of Jesus’ baptism. After
John baptizes Jesus, a dove appears and the voice of God says, “You are my Son, the
Beloved; with you I am well pleased” (Mk 1:11 NRSV). All week long we stressed to the
campers that because we enter into Jesus’ death and resurrection through the waters of
baptism, we, too, are God’s beloved. There’s some pretty powerful incarnational theology
at work here—because God became human in the person of Jesus, we worship a god that
knows first-hand what it means to be one of us. Jesus knew suffering, joy, friendship,
betrayal, anger, and all the complicated emotions of human life.
Thinking back to my own teenage years, I can remember feeling like an outsider. I had
horrible acne, I was bad at sports, I was far from popular, and it felt like the pressures of
social expectations would suffocate me. I have had a blessed and wonderful life, but you
could not pay me enough to go back to being a teenager. When I look at the campers at
ECC, though, I see a community where all are loved and uplifted. The greatest moment
of the week for me was watching the much-anticipated talent show. While Music Camp
ends with a large performance for family and friends, the talent show is just for the camp
community. It’s performed in the outdoor pavilion while we all sit at picnic tables or on
the ground. There’s no pomp and circumstance—just lots of fun, laughter, and play. I am
not exaggerating when I say that the talent shown by the campers was astounding. We
are blessed to have in our community brilliant musicians, poets, singers, dancers,
comedians, and artists. What amazed me the most, however, was how supportive every
camper was of their fellow campers. Every single performance, no matter how
complicated or simple, received thundering applause and loud cheers of approval.
Whether it was a large rock band rivaling the charisma of the Beatles or a single camper
reading her poetry, ALL of the acts were greeted and received with outrageous
acceptance. Furthermore, these cheers of approval were far from put on. They cheered
because every act on the stage was performed by one of our own—an ECC camper,
counselor, or staffer. Just as God shouted from the heavens that Jesus was his own
Beloved, our campers shouted from the pavilion that that was their beloved friend.
Without exception. Without hesitation.
The most valuable lesson I learned at Music Camp came straight from the young people:
God loves each one of us without exception, and we should love one another without
exception. Life’s tough. Sometimes the Roman oppressors crucify you. Sometimes kids
call you names. But in the midst of all of it the voice of God rings from the heavens, “You
are my children, my Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Second Sunday in Lent 2015--Trinity Church, Newport, RI
2 Lent
March 1, 2015
Trinity Church, Newport, RI
For dominion belongs to the LORD,
and he rules over the nations.
To him, indeed, shall all who sleep in the earth bow down;
before him shall bow all who go down to the dust,
and I shall live for him.
Posterity will serve him;
future generations will be told about the LORD
and proclaim his deliverance to a people yet unborn,
saying that he has done it
They shall come and make known to a people yet unborn *
the saving deeds that he has done.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, AMEN
I recently went on a retreat at a monastery with my class at Berkeley Divinity School, and I absolutely hated it. With all due respect to the monks, who were gracious and kind, their worship bored me to tears. You see, monastic worship through the Daily Office focuses largely on the Psalms. Great! I love the psalms! Nowhere in the Bible do we more clearly see voices of praise, thanksgiving, lament, anger, you name it. All the feelings. But the monks drone the Psalms. They take looooooooong pauses that I find maddening. The reasoning behind this is that if you read the Psalms slowly you soak them in. They become part of you. In my experience, when you drone them slowly and without feeling your stomach just rumbles really loudly and everyone turns and judges.
Maybe it’s my past life as an actor, but for me the psalms make more sense when I read them out loud and express all the emotions that come with them. The psalms aren’t about quiet submission. Heck, they aren’t even about reverence. They’re about raw human emotion, and sometimes that’s ugly. Today’s Psalm is a little bit misleading because we’re only saying a portion of it, but don’t worry--we’ll get the rest of it on Good Friday. I’m sure it’s one you’re all familiar with because it begins with the words
Maybe it’s my past life as an actor, but for me the psalms make more sense when I read them out loud and express all the emotions that come with them. The psalms aren’t about quiet submission. Heck, they aren’t even about reverence. They’re about raw human emotion, and sometimes that’s ugly. Today’s Psalm is a little bit misleading because we’re only saying a portion of it, but don’t worry--we’ll get the rest of it on Good Friday. I’m sure it’s one you’re all familiar with because it begins with the words
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
I think that if we’re honest with ourselves, that’s a thought we’ve all thought at some point or another. When I’m late to work and my tire blows out: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” When a child has cancer and dies: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” When the Son of God is nailed to a Roman torture device and the most innocent among us is brutally humiliated and killed by a corrupt state: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
And yet the Psalmist ends with the words we sang/said today:
Praise the LORD, you that fear him; *
stand in awe of him, O offspring of Israel;
all you of Jacob's line, give glory.
Out of lament, out of despair the psalmist can turn to words of praise.
And notice that this praise is communal. It’s not just the individual, but all you of Jacob’s line. The psalmist goes even further, though, as
All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to
the LORD, *
and all the families of the nations bow before him.
This is a future where all of humanity will praise God and rejoice in his goodness, and this vision comes out of a place of deep lament.
With this in mind, I understand a bit better why Peter’s so upset with Jesus in today’s Gospel reading. When Jesus tells the people, in a rather public way, that he is to endure suffering, Peter gets rather upset. Notice that Mark says that Peter “took him aside and began to rebuke him.” Rebuke isn’t a word that we use very often, so to put it into context, rebuke is the word used when Jesus casts out demons and calms the storm at sea. It’s clearly a strong word. In this instance I can’t help but think of Peter as a petulant teenager:
Jeeeez, Mom! I can’t believe you embarrassed me like that in front of my friends!
The student is lecturing the teacher. When Jesus states publicly that he will suffer, it’s not the image of the glorious Messiah that Peter and the Jews of that time expected. They wanted a king that would reign in glory not suffering. Jesus doesn’t really calm Peter down, or at least he doesn’t calm me down when he insists that those who follow him must suffer. Eep!
I think sometimes that’s what I want from God. I just want to be happy. I just want things to go smoothly and everything to be puppy dogs and unicorns and double fudge peanut butter ice cream. But life’s not really like that, and that’s ok. That’s the whole idea behind Lent. During this time of reflection and self-denial I put away the peanut butter ice cream. You see, our humanity isn’t just joy and neither is it just suffering. It’s a full experience. It’s all the feelings. I cannot tell you why terrible things happen. I wish I could, but I just can’t. Like the psalm that goes from My God, my God, why have you forsaken me to Praise the LORD you that fear him, life moves us through sorrows and joys.
Our Lenten journey, however, moves us through the suffering and self-denial of life to the suffering of the cross, to the glory of Resurrection. The NRSV translation of today’s psalm ends saying:
Future generations will be told about the LORD,
and proclaim his deliverance to a people yet unborn,
saying that he has done it.
This final phrase he has done it is where Jesus takes his final words on the cross: It is done. The 22nd Psalm moves us from the agony of suffering and death: My God, My God, why have you forsaken me to the glory of resurrection: It is done.
And note what the psalmist says:
Future generations will be told about the LORD.
That’s the real task we’re given here: to tell the story.
Suffering is inevitable. It is part of what makes us human, but even through that suffering God is present in the person of Jesus who loves us enough to endure suffering on a cross. Ours is a God who has known human suffering. Through his incredible gift of life and victory over death by his resurrection, Jesus has given us a story to spread throughout all the world.
Praise the LORD, you that fear him; *
stand in awe of him, O offspring of Israel
AMEN
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