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8.3.2 Good Friday at St. Frances Cabrini

4/23/2015

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Following on the heels of Holy/Maundy Thursday comes Good Friday, the day on which Christians remember Jesus' death on the cross. Despite the cheery name (Jesus' giving of his life on the cross was a good deed), Good Friday is the most solemn day of the Christian year.

Tradition holds that Jesus hung on the cross for three hours: from noon to 3pm, and so Good Friday services are supposed to happen during this time. Today many churches hold evening services for those who can't get off work in the middle of the day. Such was the service I attended at St. Frances Cabrini (a.k.a. my usual church).

Good Friday services are solemn, dark, and often long. It is also the only day of the year on which Catholics don't celebrate the Mass. To be a Mass, a Catholic service must include the consecration of new communion elements, i.e. the priest must transubstantiate bread and wine into the actual body and blood of Jesus.  If communion is served in a Catholic church on Good Friday, it will be from the leftovers from Holy Thursday.

On Good Friday, there's little singing, and what singing there is is mournful and subdued. Instead there's plenty of silence and time for reflection.

The service I attended read the standard Catholic Good Friday readings. The first reading was from Isaiah and described a suffering servant who is either the nation of Israel or the crucified Messiah (Jesus) depending on who you ask. The second was from Hebrews and got too close for my comfort to the idea of Jesus as the perfect sacrificial lamb. The third was the passion according to John.
In this context, passion refers to Jesus' betrayal by Judas, Jesus' arrest, trial, carrying of the cross, and final death.

There are two days of the year on which the passion of Jesus is read: Good Friday and Palm Sunday.  On Good Friday, the passion according to John is read. On Palm Sunday the passion story comes from whichever Gospel that liturgical year focuses on. The Catholic church goes through a three year cycle of readings for Mass and each year focuses on either the Gospel of Matthew (last year), Mark (this year), or Luke (next year). This collection of readings is known as the Lectionary, and doesn't include the entire Bible.

So this year on Palm Sunday we heard the Passion of Mark which is simple, and cuts to the chase. Mark was, after all, the least educated Gospel writer. In Mark's Gospel Jesus is very human. On the other hand you have the Gospel of John in which Jesus is viewed as the incarnation of the Logos of God. Mark's Gospel begins with Jesus being baptized by John the Baptist, John's Gospel begins with "In the begining was the Word [Jesus], and the Word was with God and the Word was God." Mark's Gospel originally ended with the empty tomb (Mark's resurrection stories were most likely added later), and John's Gospel includes several stories of the physically resurrected Jesus.

Before I go overboard on comparing the canonical Gospels, let me point you in the direction of a helpful guide. I spent Good Friday evening after the service reading all four Passion Narratives at the same time. I highly recommend it. Let me just say one more thing though. One of the worst parts of Christian history is that the idea that the Jewish leaders (or even more horribly, the entire Jewish nation) were to blame for Jesus' death has been used to justify Christian anti-Semitism. I was much relieved that during the service I attended, we paused when we came to the part where the Gospel writer had the Jews crying out "crucify him," and spent a moment in silence to show our sorrow that this passage has been used to justify anti-Semitism.


If you read the passion stories in the order in which they were written (Mark, Matthew, Luke, John) you will find each progressive Gospel places more and more of the blame for Jesus' false conviction on the Jewish authorities instead of the Roman authorities i.e. Pontius Pilate. By the time you get to the Gospel of John, Pilate is practically begging the Jews to let Jesus go, which is strange considering Emperor Tiberius once chastened Pilate for being so execution happy. So why do the Gospel writers put the blame on the Jews instead of the Romans? Politics. By the time the Gospels were written, Christianity had pretty much split from Judaism. Jews were not on the best terms with the Roman authorities, but now that Christians were no longer grouped with the Jews, they stood a chance at being treated well by the Romans. To improve their chances, the Gospel writers placed the blame for Jesus' death on the Jews and not on the Romans, who were actually the ones responsible. Long digression, but it is important to understand that the Romans killed Jesus, NOT the Jews.

Back to the service, as the passion of John was read a cross was slowly, piece by piece, brought into the center of the church and erected. Once the reading of the passion was finished, and several prayers had been offered, the people were invited to come forward and show their respect for the cross. One-by-one, in very dim light, people came forward to kneel before the cross, touch it reverently, or even kiss it. I stayed a few minutes later reflecting on the power this story still holds two thousand years later.

While it was very dark in the church, I knew, if I waited one more day, the light would return.

What's with the odd picture in this post? It's called Station 3 from
Lema Sabachtani, a series of 14 paintings by Barnett Newman, based on the Stations of the Cross.
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8.3.1 Good Jumu'ah

4/23/2015

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It was about noon on Good Friday. And so I, a Christian, went to Friday prayer with the Muslim students on the University of Minnesota's campus.

Muslims pray five times a day: dawn, noon, midafternoon, sunset, and night. These prayers, (salat in Arabic) make up one of the five pillars of Islam. (The other four are faith in God and the Prophet, alms giving, fasting, and pilgrimage to Mecca). Prayer in Islam is a simple and beautiful thing. It involves the entirety of your mind, soul, and body. I've prayed the Islamic way a handful of times, and each time I have felt a sense of peace and unity with humanity.

What does Islamic prayer (salat) involve? First you must perform a short ritual washing known as wudu. Through wudu you wash away your sins and prepare yourself to pray. Once you've performed wudu, you stand and face toward Mecca, this direction is know as qibla. Muslims face qibla as a symbol of unity. Instead of having Indonesian Muslims face Jakarta, Canadian Muslims face the North Pole, and Texan Muslims face the Cowboys Stadium; all Muslims face toward the holiest place on Earth, the Kaaba, a small building located in Masjid Al-Haram in Mecca. Muslims do not worship the Kaaba, just like Christians do not worship the front of their church. By the way, early Christian churches used to face Jerusalem, and Muslims used to face Jerusalem when they prayed.

Alright, once you're facing qibla (roughly Northeast in Minneapolis), you make a series of motions while reciting certain phrases. This series of motions is known as a raka'ah and takes about one minute. It involves standing, bowing, prostrating, and sitting while reciting short prayers praising God. Depending on the time of day, the raka'ah is repeated two to four times. The noon prayer (dhuhr) has four raka'ah.
This paragraph will make more sense if you click this link.

On Friday, Jumu'ah in Arabic, Muslims gather together to pray the noontime prayer (dhurh) as a community. Since Islam hasn't been plague by denominationalism Muslims pretty much just head to whichever masjid (mosque) is closest, and pray dhurh with their Muslim brothers and sisters.

What is it like at a salat al-Jumu'ah (Friday prayer)? You gather in a large, open prayer room (such as the fellowship room at Grace University Lutheran Church), sitting in rows facing qibla. In a masjid (mosque), there would be a decorative niche in a wall, known as a mihrab, which points in the direction of Mecca. The service begins when someone makes the iqama, the call to prayer given right before prayer starts. There is also another call to prayer known as the adhan which is given a little while before the prayer begins.

The noon prayer involves four raka'ah, except on Friday when two raka'ah are replaced by a sermon. The sermon (khutbah) lasts about 30 minutes and is broken into two 15 minute segments. At the end of the sermon, the khateeb (the sermon giver) leads those gathered in supplication prayers known as duas. After the duas, everyone stands shoulder to shoulder in straight rows and begins salat. After salat, the service is over. The whole thing lasts less than 40 minutes.

There are three things I would like to say about my experience at Friday prayer with my Muslim gopher friends. First, standing, sitting, and prostrating next to people who are all doing the same thing is neat enough, but then add on the fact that the motions we were doing are done by 1.6 billion Muslims everyday, always facing the same direction, just as they have done for the last 1400 years. That delivers powerful sense of unity. And although everyone was praying the same way, each person did so as their own personal prayer to God. It was an amazing combination of personal and communal prayer.

Second, the khutbah was about about Jesus. According to Islam Jesus was a Prophet, just like Muhammed, Noah, and Moses. The sermon focused on how Muslims should navigate the differences in how Christians and Muslims understand Jesus. According to Islam, Jesus was just a man, and he wasn't crucified. For how could God allow something so horrible to happen to one of His Prophets? The khateeb's punch-line was that most Christians view Jesus' death and resurrection as more important than his divinity, and I totally agree with him. The khateeb wanted those gathered to understand, not only the way Islam views Jesus, but also the way Christians view Jesus. I was thoroughly impressed.

I was also incredibly intrigued when the khateeb mentioned an idea in Islam that each Prophet has been given a prayer which God will answer no matter what. The khateeb raised the idea that perhaps Jesus used this prayer during the Agony in the Garden when he fell with his face on the ground and asked God to "
take this cup away from me, but not what I will but what you will." And what if the khateeb was right? What if it really was a look-a-like crucified instead of Jesus? I have no idea... but it's fun to think about.

Third, it was absolutely wonderful to visit Muslim Friday prayers on Good Friday, and have the sermon be about Jesus. That was awesome. Absolutely awesome. In sha Allah, the next time I visit a church on Eid al-Fitr or Eid al-Adha, the sermon will be about Muhammed (pbuh).
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8.2 Maundy Thursday with Univ. Baptist Church/Wesley Foundation

4/19/2015

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Four days into Holy Week and you have Holy Thursday which is also known as Maundy Thursday. What's Maundy? I'll tell you in just a bit. This night celebrates the Last Supper Jesus shared with his disciples. It also celebrates the Maundy of Jesus. Still don't know what Maundy means? I'll tell you in just a bit.

Jesus was a Jew. And if you've ever celebrated a Shabbat dinner you will have broken challah bread and shared wine. And so, what would Jesus have done to celebrate his last meal with his friends? Broken bread and shared wine I suppose. And this is, according to three of the Gospels, what Jesus did during the Last Supper. If we believe the gospels, Jesus had a unique way of breaking bread, and this act is what Christians remember each time they celebrate communion. Growing up as a Catholic, the Last Supper/Holy Thursday was viewed as the first Mass (Catholic church service where bread and wine are made into the body and blood of Jesus) and the institution of the Eucharist. Christian disagree greatly on what exactly happens during communion: is it literally Jesus' body and blood?, is God mysteriously present?, is it symbolic?, is it just plain bread and wine? Regardless of denomination, today Christians still follow Jesus' command to "do this in memory of me," and continue this tradition as an act of community and a reminder of our roots in Jesus.

The Gospel of John, however, leaves out the story of bread and wine entirely. Instead at the last supper, Jesus washes his disciples feet. This action is known as the Maundy of Jesus, hence the term "Maundy Thursday." Fun Fact: Seventh Day adventists don't serve bread-and-wine communion, but wash each others' feet as an act of communion.

On Holy/Maundy Thursday, Christians gather to remember the events of Jesus' last supper. This year I attended a Maundy Thursday service at University Baptist Church which was led by the Wesley Foundation (aka where I work). We built the service around a meal. As people entered they were invited to have their feet washed. During the meal we read the story of Jesus washing his disciples feet which, hearing how it is an example of how we are to love each other.

As usual we celebrated communion, and concluded the service by reading the story of Jesus leaving the meal with his disciples, praying in the garden of Gethsemene, and ultimately being arrested. Had this been a Catholic Holy Thursday Mass, all decorations would have been removed from the church
and all consecrated communion elements would have been carried outside of the sanctuary to symbolize the absence the disciples felt after Jesus was arrested. While this symbolism is beautiful and moving, the sense of community present at this particular Maundy Thursday service was equally beautiful and moving, yet real, not symbolic.
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#8.1 St. Constantine Ukraininan Catholic

4/19/2015

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A few weeks ago, the Christian world celebrated Holy Week, the holiest 7 days in the Christian year. These seven days start with Palm Sunday, commemorating Jesus' entry into Jerusalem, four days later Christians remember Jesus' last supper with his disciples on Holy/Maundy Thursday; the next day marks the death of Jesus on Good Friday; and on Saturday many Christians hold vigil for the glory of the resurrection on Easter Sunday Morning. Being me, I tried to experience these holy days at as many different churches as possible. I'm going to post a shorter post for each of these days and give a brief introduction to that particular day, and say a bit about how the community I visited celebrated that day.

Holy Week begins with Palm Sunday which celebrates Jesus' triumphant-ish entry into Jerusalem.
For most of his ministry, Jesus lived and preached in Galilee, which was sort of the backwater of Roman-occupied Palestine. Eventually Jesus and his followers took his message to Jerusalem, the religious/political center of the region. According to the Gospels, Jesus pretty much walked everywhere, except that when he entered Jerusalem, he rode in on a colt as the people of Jerusalem waved palm branches (hence Palm Sunday) and spread their cloaks in front of Jesus. Perhaps the Gospel writers wanted to show how Jesus did not enter with an army, a band, and a throng of supporters like the Roman Emperors would have, or maybe they wanted to suggest Jesus brought a new order where rulers would drive Chevys, not Cadillacs, or maybe the people of Jerusalem really did give Jesus a royal welcome. I don't know.

The important fact is, two thousand years later, Christians still remember this event. How? By reading the story of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem and handing out palm leafs for children to play with... err hold reverently throughout the service. Some churches gather outside the church doors and then process into the church waving palm branches and singing a jubilant song.

And so I expected something similar at St. Constantine Ukrainian Catholic Church, which is after all, a Catholic church, just under the "Byzantine" branch. However, that is not what I found. In fact, I spent most of the liturgy wondering whether I was in a Catholic or an Orthodox church. The liturgy was the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, which is the same (ancient) liturgy which the Orthodox church uses. Everything about the art and architecture looked Orthodox: there were icons everywhere, there was a gate separating the altar from the rest of the church, there was an icon of Jesus in the central dome, there were some more icons, and the priest even mentioned in a prayer "all orthodox Christians." In fact, I could only find three tiny details which which suggested I was in a Catholic church.

First there was no "bishop's chair," a highly decorated chair on the altar which symbolizes the individual church's connection to the broader church. Second, and I had to listen really carefully to catch this, during the creed everyone recited belief that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and from the Son. In Orthodox churches, this would have just been "proceeds from the Father." (Big difference, right? But this was official reason for the great schism back in the 11th century.) Third, while communion was distributed by blending bread and wine together and spooning it into congregants' mouths, there was no distribution of blessed bread as found in Orthodox churches. In the end I double checked the sign outside, yes it read St. Constantine Ukrainian Catholic Church (to differentiate it from
St. Michael's and St. George's Ukrainian Orthodox Church across the street.)
 
There was nothing in the liturgy which signalled to me that it was Palm Sunday, until the very end of the service when the priest distributed cuttings of pussy willow branches. Pussy willow branches? Yep. Ukrainian churches celebrate Pussy Willow Sunday, not Palm Sunday. Why? Palm trees don't grow in Ukraine, and pussy willows begin to bud around the time of Easter, so on the Sunday before Easter, Ukrainians carry pussy willow branches as a symbol of the new life coming with Easter. As I walked back to the bus stop, I passed a Polish church and saw people carrying pussy willow branches, so apparently this tradition isn't limited to Ukraine.

I found celebrating Pussy Willow Sunday at St. Constantine's beautiful, yet not the jubilant start to Holy Week I'm used to. Mostly I was struck by how Orthodox the liturgy felt. This visit demonstrated to me that the Orthodox and Catholic traditions clearly have overlap in their liturgies, and if these traditions each embrace the other's liturgies, then politics surely plays the larger role in why they remain divided.
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#7 Minneapolis First Seventh Day Adventist

3/1/2015

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Are you a regular church-going Christian who never goes to church on Sunday?
Does your spiritual life integrate the health of mind, body, and soul?
Are you filled with a desire to be found with an active faith, one that is directed toward serving others?
Do you believe that the curtain is being closed on this world and that Jesus is returning very, very soon?
If you answered yes to each of these, odds are you're a Seventh Day Adventist.

The Seventh Day Adventist Church began in the mid 1800s and emerged out of the Millerite movement. William Miller was a New England preacher who believed he had found the date for the Second Advent of Jesus (sometime between March 21, 1843 and March 21, 1844). While Jesus did not appear in 1844 (the Great Disappointment), Miller's followers still believe Jesus' second coming is near at hand. Out of this movement emerged the Seventh Day Adventist Church, which from its founding in 1863 has grown to a global religion of over 16 million people. Today it is one of the largest and fastest growing Christian denominations. While the SDA Church began in the US, today the US is home to only 1 million SDAs, most live in Africa and South America.

Seventh Day Adventists' central belief is that Jesus is coming back really soon, like tomorrow, or maybe even today. When Jesus comes he will resurrect the saved from the dead, and along with the living saved will spend the next 1,000 years in heaven investigating the lives of the lost. During this time Satan and his devils will run around Earth. Then Jesus and the saved will head back to Earth and Jesus will resurrect the unrighteous from the dead so they may witness their final destructions. PAUSE: Adventists believe the dead do not experience anything until the dead are resurrected (the fancy term for this is Christian Mortalism). Also a loving God will not damn anyone to eternal Hell, instead God will simply wipe the lost, and all evil, out of existence. Back to the story, Jesus returns to Earth along with the saved, the unrighteous are resurrected, everyone witnesses God's judgement, the lost, Satan, devils, and evil itself are destroyed, and God's reign of peace begins.

I generally prefer to discuss actions and practices more than the beliefs which inspire them, and since I don't want my words to misrepresent Adventist beliefs, I encourage you to read what the Seventh Day Adventist Church has to say about its own beliefs. They are unique and fascinating.

The service I attended was not unlike other Christian services, besides the fact that the service was on a Saturday instead of Sunday. This practice comes from a literal interpretation of Exodus 20:8-10
"Remember the Sabbath day . . . on [the seventh day] you shall not do any work."  We sang hymns and songs of praise (louder and more passionately than my Catholic church for sure), we listened to a reading from the Gospel of Mark (the one about Jesus curing the paralytic after his friends lower him through a roof), we passed the sign of peace (while the band played the church's fellowship song), and we listened to a sermon (be found with an active faith).

We did not celebrate communion, however Adventists only do so four times a year. Unlike most Christian groups who share a ritual meal of bread and wine, SDAs wash each other's feet as a remembrance of Jesus' call to service given at the Last Supper in John's Gospel. (Aside: all four canonical Gospels include the Last Supper story. While the Synoptic Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke involve the bread and wine story, in John's Gospel, Jesus does not break bread and share wine, instead he washes his disciples feet. I dunno, John is the weird Gospel... go read your Bible, you'll see what I mean.)

The simplicity of the church interior was striking. The windows were plain, there was no art, not even a cross.

Overall the service was characterized by a passion for Jesus, and the mood was similar to a Baptist service. Unlike Baptists, however, the SDAs didn't talk about Jesus as a companion along the way who will pick you up when times get hard, instead Jesus was more of a judge before whom we must be found worthy and filled with an active faith. The SDA Church definitely has the active part down. Adventists are involved in a bazillion service projects worldwide, run lots of schools, and are leaders in relief and humanitarian work. The church bulletin I was handed listed outreach and service events like blanket drives, free meals, etc. along with worship services and the sunset times for the next Sabbath. From what I have seen, Adventists seem drawn to serving others, yet don't seek to create a more just world order. There was no call to build the Kingdom of God here on Earth. Perhaps this is because there simply isn't enough time before Jesus brings about the perfect order?

Anyway... the congregation was incredibly welcoming, and I was offered a free meal afterwards. By meal, I mean a full all-you-can-eat buffet. The meal was vegetarian, which was cool, because I gave up meat for Lent. Adventists keep the Kosher laws (it's in the Bible after all), and many are vegetarian in accordance with their church's guidelines on health (this also makes keeping Kosher easy). Adventists stress how the health of body and mind are related to spiritual health. Healthy eating and avoidance of tobacco, alcohol, and, less often, caffeine are common for SDAs. This healthy lifestyle has its benefits, a community of Seventh Day Adventists in Loma Prieta, CA lives an average of 4-7 years longer than the average American. And regardless of whether you believe this lifestyle pays off in the next life, it certainly has inspired millions of people to lead rich lives dedicated to serving others.
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#6 Minneapolis Baha'i Center

3/1/2015

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Along Chicago Avenue in south Minneapolis, there lies a stately brick building with white columns. Step in and you will encounter the Twin Cities' small but dedicated group of Bahá'ís.

What is a
Bahá'í? A Bahá'í is a member of the Bahá'í faith, a religion founded by Bahá'u'lláh in 19th century Persia (Iran), which stresses the unity of all mankind. Bahá'ís believe God has sent messengers throughout history and across cultures to bring God's message to that particular time and place. Similarly to Islam, the Bahá'í faith recognizes Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and Muhammed as manifestations of God, but also includes others such as the Buddha, Zoroaster, and Krishna. Central to the Bahá'í faith is the oneness of God, humanity, and religion; as well as the fundamental goodness of humans and the progressive revelation of spiritual truth. While Bahá'u'lláh, whose name means "Glory of God," launched the Bahá'í Faith, Bahá'ís do not regard Bahá'u'lláh as the final prophet of God.

There are roughly 6 million
Bahá'ís worldwide with India having the largest Baha'i community. While the religion began in Iran, today it is outlawed there and, the faith maintains it's governing institution, the Universal House of Justice, in Haifa, Israel. Many people are drawn to the Bahá'í Faith by it emphasis on personal truth seeking and its affirming attitude toward other religions. At the devotional I attended all of the Bahá'ís had come from a Christian background and converted as adults. This conversion process involves making a declaration of faith and signing a card for registration purposes.

What do
Bahá'ís do? Since the Bahá'í Faith stresses the need for individuals to find a spiritual practice which works for them, there is great diversity in Bahá'í spiritual practices. Bahá'ís are supposed to pray three times a day, but if you forget you can just say one (much longer) prayer. These daily prayers resemble those in Islam, not surprising considering the Bahá'í Faith was born in an Islamic culture (Twelver Shi'a Islam to be specific). Beyond this, Bahá'ís devote their lives toward justice, peace, service, equality, and understanding. The Bahá'ís I have been lucky enough to meet have all seemed to held very universal outlooks on life and society.

What happened during the devotional gathering I visited? 
Bahá'ís have no set rituals for devotionals, you don't have to attend on Sundays (or whenever your local community chooses to meet), and their are no priests (all humans are equal.) The devotional I attended was led by a woman from the community who had signed up to lead that day. She opened the devotional with a favorite prayer of hers, and then gave others a chance to read prayers as well. The bulk of the gathering was devoted to reading passages from Bahá'u'lláh's writings and offering our thoughts and reflections on the writings. I think we only made it through two passages because we took too long discussing each passage. As a non-Bahá'í I was encouraged to offer my own reflections, and everyone seemed rather interested in hearing what I had to say. The whole devotional lasted an hour. (Unfortunately I wasn't able listen to my new Bahá'í friends' thoughts as much as I would have liked because they kept asking me questions.)

Of course, had I visited a different
Bahá'í center, or simply come on a different day, I could have had a very different experience. I could have also chosen to visit at the start of a new month; the Bahá'í year consists of 19 months of 19 days and Bahá'ís come together to celebrate the start of each new month.

What strikes me most about the
Bahá'í community is its emphasis on our individual ability to take care of our personal spiritual life. The Bahá'í Faith is a truly democratic religion, you are in charge of your own spiritual journey, each community must meet the needs of its particular members, and we are all tied together in one humanity. While each religion prides itself on being unique, the Bahá'í Faith does so while recognizing the beauty and truth present in other traditions in a way no other religion does.

I feel the
Bahá'í Faith shows its commitment to the oneness of religion most deeply through its Houses of Worship. The Bahá'í Faith does not have churches or temples, its member meet in homes or centers like the one in Minneapolis. At the same time Bahá'ís maintain Houses of Worship around the world which are designed to offer people of all traditions a place to worship God. There are currently seven of these nine-sided, architecturally stunning buildings, one for each continent. The North American Bahá'í House of Worship is in Wilmette, Illinois, and the "Lotus Temple" in Delhi, India is one of the most beautiful buildings of modern times. A religion which builds open spaces to spiritually serve all of humanity while not requiring those served to become card-carrying members, certainly has a place in our seemingly fragmented world.
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#5 St. Maron's Catholic Church (Maronite Rite)

2/7/2015

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The Catholic Church isn't just the Roman Catholic Church. It consists of about two dozen different rites and churches. The Roman Catholic Church is by far the largest of the rites, and with over 1 Billion members it is the world's largest religious body (Sunni Islam is a very close second). St Maron's is part of the Maronite Catholic Church, which has about 3 million members making it one of the larger "eastern" Catholic Churches. All Catholic Churches regard the Pope as their spiritual head.

Eastern Catholic Churches are mostly found in Eastern Europe, the Middle East, Egypt, Ethiopia, and Southern India. Each of the Eastern, i.e. not-Roman, Catholic Churches has its unique history, often closely tied to a specific ethnic group. There are four main branches to the Rites of the Catholic Church: Roman,
Alexandrian (Egyptian), Antiochian (Syrian), and Byzantine. Each of these branches in turn has a great
diversity of rites within it. Most rites have been reunited with the heavyweight Roman church after settling theological (or perhaps political?) differences, while others have been in communion their whole history. All have rich histories and many claim roots going back to the original
twelve apostles. For example, the Syro-Malankara Catholic Church, found in the southern Indian state of Kerala, claims it was founded by the missionary efforts of Thomas the apostle.

The Maronite Catholic Church fits under the Syrian branch and is one (of two?) churches which have never been separated at any time from the Roman church. Maronites trace their history to St. Maron, a monk who lived toward the end of the 4th century in what is today Lebanon. Its liturgy is based on the Liturgy of St. James, and is traditionally given in Aramaic, the language Jesus spoke. Today most Maronite Catholics live in Lebanon where they comprise 20% of the population. Carlos Slim Helu, currently the 3rd richest person in the world, is a Maronite Catholic.

Back in December I visited St. Mary's Greek Orthodox church and was struck by the beauty of its liturgy as well as the similarities it had with the Roman Catholic tradition I grew up with. I began wondering what diversity there was within my own Catholic tradition, in particular whether liturgies of eastern Catholic churches seemed more Orthodox or Catholic to me. And so I decided to visit St. Maron's.

Overall the liturgy was more similar than I expected to the Roman liturgy I grew up with. The liturgy followed nearly the same pattern as the Roman rite. There was more incense used, and each prayer was longer than I'm used to, plus there was a choir which led the responses to the prayers. Unlike the Roman Catholic churches I'm used to (but similar to the Orthodox church I visited), there were no hymnals, and the congregation never sang more than a short response to a prayer. However, like the
Roman Catholic churches I'm used to, the choir did sing during communion, and at the end of the liturgy.

One parishioner proudly told me Mass at St. Maron's is an especially beautiful example of a Maronite liturgy, and I could see why. The actions of the liturgy were performed with a simplicity and reverence which can only come from routinely performing a sacred right for the Most High. There was less processing around the altar and/or church than in an Orthodox liturgy, but a bit more than I'm used to. Unlike Orthodox Christianity, and like other Catholic traditions, women are allowed on the altar, however they cannot be priests. In most Maronite Catholic churches the priest faces away from the congregation during the eucharistic celebration, however at St. Maron's he faces toward the congregation. Apparently the direction is left up to the parish to decide.

So what's the biggest difference between a Roman and a Maronite Catholic liturgy? For me it was how communion (the Eucharist) was celebrated. I'm used to receiving a single piece of bread (the Body of Christ), then having a choice whether or not to take a sip from the communal cup of wine (Blood of Christ), and having the whole thing said in my native language. At St. Maron's the readings and homily
were said in English, many prayers were said in Arabic (reminding me that Christians and Muslims worship the same Allah), while the consecration was said in Aramaic. According to Catholic teaching, the priest literally changes bread and wine into the body and blood of Jesus during the consecration when he speaks the words Jesus spoke at the Last Supper "This is my body which is given for you...". Hearing the words of the consecration spoken, not in translation, but in the language of Jesus, was certainly powerful. 

Communion used unleavened bread just like the Roman Catholic church, but was delivered by intinction, meaning the priest took a wafer of bread, and dipped it in a small chalice before reverently placing it in the communicant's mouth. The priest held a silver platter on which the bread wafers and the chalice rested, the communicant would hold their chin over the platter when receiving communion, and not a single crumb dropped to the floor.


An interesting moment for me was during a prayer before communion when the priest prayed for Pope Francis,
the Eparch of Los Angeles, and the Archbishop of St. Paul-Minneapolis. Afterwards I asked if the Maronite churches in the area are organizationally connected with the Archdiocese (they are not). Both Roman and Maronite Catholics regard Pope Francis as their spiritual head, below the pope our hierarchical structures differ, yet our spirit is one. May this spirit be a truly catholic (universal) spirit which, as John Wesley said, knows no church boundaries.
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#4 Pilgrim Baptist Church

2/1/2015

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The Baptist movement emerged out of the Puritan religious ferment of the 17th century, and stresses an individual relationship with God. Baptists believe in the authority of the Bible (as opposed to the Church or the Pope) and the right to personally interpret it, instead of relying on an official interpretation. Today there are about two dozen Baptist denominations across the theological spectrum. The two largest Baptist denominations in the United States are the Southern Baptist Convention with 16.2 million members, by far the largest Protestant church in the US, and the National Baptist Convention with 5 million members, the largest predominantly African American church.

Pilgrim Baptist Church, founded in 1863 by black refugees from Missouri, is associated with the National Baptist Convention. Martin Luther King Jr. began his work with the National Baptist Convention, yet split from that group in 1961 to form the Progressive National Baptist Convention. I am deeply inspired by how MLK Jr.'s faith led him to become such a powerful civil rights advocate, and so for MLK Jr. Day, I decided to visit a church much like those where MLK Jr. himself worked and preached.

Pilgrim Baptist Church offered me the most personal church service I have ever attended. Time and time again throughout the two hour long service people spoke of how life had given them trouble, but it was Jesus, and their relationship with him, that pulled them through.

The service moved unhurriedly yet emotionally as each prayer, song, and speech was filled with passion and was frequently interrupted by claps and "Amens." Music was central to the service with each transition being a time of song, and praise. The music, mostly Gospel music, was led by a men's choir accompanied by piano, drums, and trumpets, with the congregation fervently joining in. At times the music reach such an intensity my ears began to hurt, and when the power of the music or a prayer reached a particularly high mark, individuals in the congregation would spontaneously stand up, clap, or sway their hands. There was no way not to be immersed in service, I didn't see anyone fall asleep.

Like the rest of the service the music focused on the way faith in Jesus had helped the singer on their life journey. The most unexpected moment in the service for me was a group of teenagers who performed a mime routine about holding on with the help of Jesus. For me this was a beautiful example of the many ways this community found to praise God.

I visited Pilgrim on its Baptism Sunday. Unlike most Christian traditions, Baptists do not baptize infants. Instead Baptists wait until children are old enough to profess their faith for themselves. The Sunday I visited, there were four children around the age of 12 being baptized.

The baptisms occurred behind the altar where there was a wooden cross with a red curtain behind it. The curtain was drawn to show the two men administering the baptism standing in the baptismal pool. One by one the youths came to stand in the baptismal pool and were asked their name and the question "Do you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and personal Savior?". After responding "yes," the youth was gently tipped backwards into the pool of water. After a brief moment in the water, the child was lifted up dripping wet, beaming, and newly baptized.

The heart of a Baptist service is the sermon. By the time we got to the sermon more time had already passed then I am used to spending in church, and the church had grown so warm that some in the congregation had begun fanning themselves despite the January cold outside. The sermon, unsurprisingly, drew from the pastor's experience and his faith in Jesus' ever-presence in his life. The sermon lasted about 30 minutes, and altogether the service was about 2 hours.

My visit to Pilgrim Baptist challenged my idea that a highly personal faith can only lead to a personal sense of holiness, and I am very glad for that. The congregation at Pilgrim showed me how individuals with highly personal faith stories, each person having a unique, personal relationship with Jesus, can come together and have a unifying experience. I'm used to a Catholic-style communion in which individuals are united through a common ritualized meal provided by a priest whose authority stems from a single person. At Pilgrim Baptist, everyone was united through sharing their personal journeys, and by hearing the many powerful ways in which Jesus works in our family's, friends', and neighbors' lives. After such an experience, how could you not have faith in the power of God to move us toward a better life?
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#3 Minneapolis Friends Meeting

12/17/2014

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Quakers keep it simple. After talking with a parishioner at St. Mary's Greek Orthodox Church who mentioned he thought Quakers and Orthodox had much in common as they both place high value on the light of God, I figured I might as well check out the Minneapolis Friends Meeting. I had heard Quakers had simple services and so I thought it might also be a nice contrast to the complexity of Orthodox liturgy.

The Religious Society of Friends was founded in the 1650's and its members were originally known as "Children of Light" and "Friends of Truth." Friends seek to know God through the Inner Light present in each of us.
The Religious Society of Friends teaches no official dogma and Quakers hold a wide range of convictions about God, Jesus, the afterlife, and many other issues. Quakers' individual way of seeking God within each of us seriously challenged the prevailing religious notions in England of the day. This resulted in persecution, and many Quakers moved to places in the Americas like Pennsylvania.

So what's in the name "Quaker"? When brought before a judge on account of his unorthodox beliefs, George Fox, the movement's founder, informed the judge he must "quake before the Word of the Lord." The judge apparently asked Fox if he were a quaker, and the name stuck.

Today there are about 100,000 Quakers within the US. Their lives are characterized by simplicity, pacifism, and a strong commitment to social justice and work building the Kingdom of God here on earth. Quakers, along with Mennonites and Church of the Brethren, are considered the three historic peace churches, and Quakers today are active in many non-violence and social justice movements. Their worship is characterized by silence. Members only speak when moved to do so.

I decided to attend an unprogrammed meeting for worship. I arrived about 15 minutes before the meeting began and, chatting with the Friends who had gathered (largely 60-somethings), we slowly drifted into the sanctuary. The sanctuary space was originally a Catholic church which had been sold to Lutherans and is now home to the Minneapolis Friends Meeting. The space was unadorned, with simple wooden ceiling, walls, and floor, and plain windows with no stained glass. There were no pews but common meeting room chairs arranged in a semi-circular-ish pattern. Two chairs were place facing the semi-circle. This formed the "facing bench" where the elders (spiritually respected community members, not ministers) who led the meeting sat. As we gathered there was some chatter as people found seats, but eventually everyone settled themselves and fell into silence and listened to the Inner Light.

I tried my best to do likewise, and found it incredibly difficult. I had attended "Mindfulness for Students" meetings semi-regularly for a while and half-expected the Quakers' meeting to feel like a meditation session. It did not. No one led the meeting. No one said "follow your breath" or "listen to the light within." No one was guiding us through the silence, we were listening to our own inner light in our way. No one announced the beginning of the meeting, or what was to happen. No hymns were sung. Nothing was read from the bible. No one said anything in fact. If so moved, those present are supposed to break the silence and share what insight they have received (but only after seriously considering whether they truly are being called to share their insight). I suppose either God wasn't calling anyone to speak that day, or perhaps everyone was saving their insights for the meeting for business which followed the unprogrammed meeting for worship.

The close of the meeting was signaled when two gentlemen, the elders leading the meeting, shook hands. We then all shook hands with those next to us, and greeted each other with "good morning" or "nice to meet you." We then each introduced ourselves to the other 30 or so in attendance, and that was that. The entire meeting lasted 45 minutes. I was struck by how this Christian experience featured no spoken or written references to God or any religious themes at all. The language used by the members at the end of the meeting was secular sounding. Perhaps there is no need for religious language when your life is infused by the Inner Light?

I left the meeting and went out into the world of everyday commotion.  A world which seems so much more hectic, distracting, and noisy than the world of George Fox and William Penn. One might wonder how anyone today could listen to the Inner Light when everyone else is listening to Siri. But a tradition that has inspired the likes of Jane Adams, Lucretia Mott, and Elizabeth Fry surely has a powerful message for today's injustices. Perhaps, if anything, the Quakers can help us learn the power of silence.
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#2 St. Mary's Greek Orthodox Church

12/16/2014

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As the name implies, Orthodox Christians like their tradition. While Catholics trace the history of their Mass (Sunday service) back to the early days of Christianity, ask any Catholic who remembers Vatican II and they will tell you the Catholic Mass today is much different than it was 50 years ago. Orthodox Christians however, have not undertaken any major revamping of their liturgy, and a tremendous amount of the Divine Liturgy (Sunday service) I attended would look familiar to an Orthodox Christian centuries ago. While the Divine Liturgy I attended was certainly steeped in tradition, there were signs that even Orthodox Christians change the way they do things.

You've probably heard of Greek Orthodox, and Russian Orthodox, and perhaps Serbian, Romanian, or Ukrainian Orthodox. All these traditions (and quite a few others) are all part of the Eastern Orthodox Church. Back in the 11th century the Eastern and Western churches could not come to an agreement about whether the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father or from the Father and the Son (google filioque). So instead of engaging in dialogue, they split, with the eastern churches forming what is now called the Eastern Orthodox Church, and the western churches forming what is now called the Catholic Church. Honestly the split was much more about how power should be distributed in the church than it was about anything theological. And still today, if the eastern and western churches, should ever get serious about joining back together, the biggest issue would be the distribution of power.

To my pleasant surprise, the liturgy I attended was not In Greek and so I managed to follow along. I asked someone about this afterwards and she said liturgies in Orthodox Christianity should be said in the congregation's native language, English in this case. Apparently when holy days fall during the week and the majority of people in attendance are the older Greek-speaking parishioners, the liturgy is said in Greek instead. The general vibe I got was that most of the differences between Greek, Russian, and Antiochian Orthodox liturgies are the language and culture of the church's community.

But no matter who attends the church, or where it's located, there will be a few things that will make it apparent that you are in an Orthodox church. Most noticeably there will be icons and lots of them. Icons, holy paintings or mosaics of saints, angels, or acts of Jesus, are a key part of Orthodox spiritual life. Icons are NOT worshiped. By viewing icons and praying in front of them (not to them) we direct our mind toward God. T
he icon serves as a gateway for God's light to reach us. The way icons are distributed around the church is designed around the idea of God's light reaching down to us. Up top in the middle of the big dome of the church there is an image of Jesus, "our light and salvation". Behind the altar will be an enormous image of the Theotokos (Mary the Mother of God) symbolizing the way Mary brought the Light (Jesus) into the world. Along the altar wall there will be six icons with the two closest to the altar being Jesus (on the right) and the Theotokos (on the left). Besides this there will be icons pretty much everywhere. The physical beauty of the church only accented the beauty of the liturgy itself.

I expected the liturgy to feel more familiar to me than it did. After all, Catholics and Orthodox Christians share similar histories and loves for tradition. While the order of the liturgy was the same as the Catholic Mass I'm used to, each step was far more intricate and each movement dripped with tradition. To give a sense of the importance of tradition, there were no hymnals in my pew (no hymns were sung during the liturgy), instead there were books outlining the several liturgies used in Orthodox churches. This book featured the sung responses for all the prayers etc. used throughout the Divine Liturgy in both Greek and English. The liturgy I attended (Liturgy of St.
John Chrysostom a.k.a. "the usual one") took up 90 pages of about 500.

There was no announcement that the liturgy was beginning. The woman who had been chanting the Orthros (the sunrise segment of the daily cycle of prayers often said by priest and monastic communities) simply walked off the altar, the priest began saying the Divine Liturgy (instead of processing around the church with incense as he was doing during parts of the Orthros), and the choir began leading responses. People continued to file into the church for about the first 30 minutes of the Liturgy which lasted nearly two hours in all, and many left following communion (with about 20 minutes left in the liturgy). The liturgy seemed to melt out of and back into the congregants' daily lives. As a Catholic I'm used to beginning Mass  with a big Sign of the Cross and ending it the same way, creating a sense that the Mass is a single prayer. Instead, in the Orthodox Divine Liturgy congregants made the Sign of the Cross many, many times (often three times in a row). This made me think the Sign of the Cross is just something Orthodox Christians do often throughout their daily lives, which in turn led me to feel as though the liturgy, with its countless Signs of the Cross, was an experience the congregants would continue to live out and carry with them throughout the week. 

And while the Divine Liturgy was incredibly traditional and, well, orthodox, there were signs that "the times, they are a changin'." I attended on St. Nicholas Day (St. Nick was Greek by the way) and so the children in the congregation joined the procession before communion carrying gifts for a Christmas gift drive. It was interesting to see a procession featuring incense and traditional priestly robes include barbie dolls, legos, and Disney coloring books. Certainly the old and the new are meant to be together. More importantly though was the fact that, while not being a Chrismated Orthodox I couldn't receive communion, I was allowed to remain in the church during the entire Divine Liturgy. Shortly before the consecration (when the bread and wine are transubstantiated (literally turned into the body and blood of Jesus) the priest announced that the "doors were closed." Traditionally this meant non Orthodox had to leave at this point and remain outside the doors of the church as they were not welcomed during the highest part of the liturgy. But nobody threw me out. Afterwards someone explained to me how they viewed this statement more figuratively as a way of holding the holiness of the holiest moment inside the church. Clearly, the Orthodox tradition is not unchangeable.

The thing that struck me most of all about my experience was that, although the liturgy I attended was ancient, it felt relevant. In Orthodox churches the priest faces away from the congregation during the consecration and I expected this would make me feel like a spectator watching a complex ritual. Perhaps it was the wonderful choir who led the responses during the liturgy, or maybe it was the fact that I could follow along in the liturgy book , but I found my self enveloped by the liturgy and swept up in the act of coming together to celebrate the Divine Liturgy. I don't recall much of what was said during the sermon, or what bible verses were read, but I do remember the sense that something holy and sacred was occurring, and that all these people had come together to share in that experience. And I am very grateful to have been one of them.

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Of course, since I'm Catholic, my visit to St. Mary's Greek Orthodox Church got my mental wheels turning about the prospect of eventual reunification between the Catholic and Orthodox Churches.

Much talk has been made recently about whether or not the Catholic and Orthodox Churches will ever reunite. Recently Pope Francis and Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I of Constantinople (the "first among equals" of Orthodox archbishops and the spiritual leader of Orthodox Christians) caused a bit of a media flurry by making a joint statement about religious freedom. I'm no expert, but my understanding is that the theological divides between the two churches are orders of magnitude smaller than the political and cultural divides. With 1.2 billion Catholics and 300 million Orthodox Christians, there are certainly many Catholics who would like their church to be more like the Orthodox Church, and vice versa.  At St. Mary's Greek Orthodox Church I sensed a love for the (global) Church present in hearts of the parishioners. I encounter that same love in Catholic churches including those which openly question official Church teachings. And I was reminded how the Catholic Church in fact consists of the Roman Catholic Church as well as several smaller Eastern Catholic Churches, in some ways similar to the structure of the Orthodox Church. Certainly, both Catholics and Orthodox need to recognize that we both have great ritual, cultural, and theological diversity within our Churches.

I doubt many Christians of any variety are terribly concerned whether the Spirit proceeds from the Father or from the Father and the Son. And given the theological diversity present in each church, and the fact that not every Orthodox or Catholic believes every single official tenet of their Church, we must recognize the divide between Orthodox and Catholic churches as the result of the political schism it was. If the higher ups in the Catholic and Orthodox Churches are to get serious about re-unification, my suspicion is that love of tradition and unwillingness to part with the current political status quo will weigh far more heavily than coming to an agreement on the filioque. In the meantime, those of us who make up the body of our Churches should reflect on how our shared love for tradition and the Church (even though our Churches and traditions are slightly different) can serve as a bridge to deeper understanding of our own and others' traditions. True unity (which doesn't mean uniformity) between Catholics and Orthodox will not come if their respective heads sign some agreement, but when the bodies of their Churches recognize the beauty and truth present in each others' traditions.

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