Wanderlost: A Review

Leafing through the March 9, 2022, edition of The Christian Century I came across an article written by Jack Jenkins of the Religion New Service title "Immigration reform no longer united faith groups."  In the article, utilizing results from a February poll conducted by the Public Religion Research Institute, Jenkins describes how over the past decade or so support for things like a pathway to citizenship has moved from being uniformly supported by various faith groups and traditions, to something that adds to the numerous differences that they hold.

I was struck that I came across this just as a was finishing up Natalie Toon Patton's book Wanderlost:  Falling from Grace and Finding Mercy in All the Wrong Places. I note that because this volume, which traces her faith journey and her literal journeys after she is ex-communicated from an evangelical megachurch upon the occasion of her divorce, is at its best in the final chapters as she describes her own experiences with a family of Somalian refugees.

After a friend is detained with her family in a detention center in Bangkok, where the author lived with her husband and children, she describes in detail the injustices she experiences.  She wrestles with the theological implications of immigration policy and asks hard questions.  Many of which she doesn't pretend to be able to answer.  She also speaks of how from a perspective of privilege, we can often distance ourselves from the angst of such difficult situations by what some have called Band-Aid charity.  "We like to do good," she writes, "as long as we can keep suffering at arms' length."  (253)

While I found myself thinking some of the sections of the volume were less than fully inspiring, but her writing is always honest and clear.  And the last chapters, with their honest view of immigration issues, is worth the wait and makes most sense when seen in the larger context of the book.

Patton was not, and is not, a refugee in the literal sense of the word, but in many ways,
she was a refugee in terms of her faith journey.  She does find safe harbor in the end, partly due to the fact that she learns how to embrace the questions.

Disclosure of Material Connection:  I received this book free from the author and/or publisher through the Speakeasy blogging book review network.  I was not required to write a positive review.  The opinions I have expressed are my own.  I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255.

Times of Feasting, Times of Fasting

 

The rhythm of fasting and feasting is largely lost in much of Western society.  But there is a certain wisdom to it.  The contrast between times of plenty, even excess, is better appreciated when we also have times when we intentionally restrain our appetites.  Lent is just such a time.  

One of the benefits of fasting, of course, is that it allows us to more closely identify with those who have little.  Some who fast during Lent put aside what they might normally spend of a meal each day, or special treats, and then give the money to those in need.  Some use the time normally spent at meals to observe times of prayer, meditation and study.  One needn't be a Christian, or a person of any particular faith, to engage in times of fasting.

Perhaps this is the year to consider engaging in fasting.  Perhaps this us the year to learn from the contrast between feasting and fasting.  In many parts of the world, the days or weeks before Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent, are observed as festive times, most notably in New Orleans where Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday) is marked by parades and parties.   a time for cleaning out all the fats before the Lenten time of fasting.  Hence the name, Fat Tuesday.  This year Ash Wednesday falls on March 2.  My congregation marks that important day with a worship service complete with ashes.  But before the days of fasting, the feasting and celebration of Mardi Gras!  So each year we hold Mardi Gras Sunday, complete with beads and a Dixieland Jazz Combo.  It is a grand time of celebration, followed only three days later by a time of somber reflection.  Such is life!

The Love of a Grandfather

 

I love being a grandfather.  And I have pictures on my cell phone and in my wallet to prove it!  But sometimes, for me at least, it is a bit confusing.  Let me explain.

When my oldest grandson Zachary, who is now in his twenties, started to talk, he had a very hard time pronouncing certain words, as do most children.  He had no trouble with Mom and Dad, and he managed to spit out his grandmother’s name, Oma, with ease.  But when it came to Grandpa, he just couldn’t wrap his little tongue around it.  But he could say Pepa.  And so it stuck.  To Zachary, and his brother Christopher, I am not Grandpa, I am Pepa.

 That was well and good, and seemed to work, that is until our other son’s oldest daughter was born.  As she started to talk, she decided that I should be called Pop Pop.  You’d think I was a wad of bubble gum or a glass of champagne.  But that too stuck.  And so my two granddaughters both call me Pop Pop.

Our third child, our daughter Elizabeth, and her partner Erica later adopted a pair of sisters.  I decreed that to keep things straight they should also call me Pop Pop.  That way, if I was interacting with a grandson, I'd remember I was Pepa, and if it was a granddaughter, I was assured I was known as Pop Pop.

Usually that’s OK as well, but when all six of them are together, they sometimes argue about what my real name is!  “No,” Megan used to say to her boy cousins, “he’s my Pop Pop!”  I’ve signed more than one birthday card with the wrong name—and you better believe I hear about it!

 You can see why I get confused!

 The truth is, however, I love both names—and I’ll love a third if that’s my fate!  For you see both of them remind me that these guys love me—and that I love them more than I would have ever imagined possible!  And in the end, loving and being loved is far more important to our identity than whatever else we may conjure up!

(Photo: Five of six grandchildren, taken four years ago.)

Light Through the Window, Light Through Your Life

 It starts as a pile of broken glass.  Sharp edges.  Odd shapes.  Not much different than what you might see in the colored glass bin at a recycling facility.  Then, using classic techniques developed through the centuries, the glass is arranged and bonded together, piece by piece, until an image begins to emerge.  One which capture's the designer's original intent.  Still, when it's completed and sitting on the shop bench, beautiful as it is, something is missing.  Its full glory is yet to be revealed.

But then the newly created stained glass window is taken and put in its frame and placed where it was intended to be all along.  A church door.  A balcony window.  A transom over an office entrance.  At the top of a stairway.

Years ago,

the church I was serving was installing some brand-new stained-glass windows.  As the installers of the new windows were putting on the finishing touches, I stepped into the narthex, the church entryway, to check on their progress.  It was late afternoon.

"They look great," I said to one of the installers.

"They do," he said, "they look so much better here than in the shop.  They need to be in context."

I nodded.

He then pointed to the cross design, surrounded by rays of yellow, orange and red.

"When the light hits that one," he said, "It will be on fire!"

And so it was!  For what was missing on the shop bench was light.  It changed from a pretty but dull picture into an amazing image of beauty and hope!  Its full glory was truly revealed.

And as it is with stained glass, so it is with us.  When we are in the right place--and that will be different for each of us--when we our broken pieces are assemble and exposed to the light of God's love, then we too become amazing images of beauty and hope!

(Photo:  Rose window at the Sanibel Congregational United Church of Christ)