Monday, June 18, 2007 at 1:01am
But seriously, folks
Column: Woman at the Well
What would life be like if we all took ourselves a whole lot less seriously? What would you do differently if you could totally lighten up, relax, just be — and not in a holy, meditative way, but in a silly, little kid, playful sort of way?
In Presbyterian seminary, where I received my master's of divinity (oh, that sounds so pompous and important, doesn't it?), they assured me that Jesus' declaration that we must be like little children to enter the kingdom of Heaven did not mean that we should actually be like little children. No, my professors explained, Jesus meant only or rather that we must identify with the poverty and low status that children represented in the culture of their day, rather than the precious elevated status we tend to give our children in postmodern America. We should stand with the weak and the downtrodden, a noble ambition, and certainly true. But ...
I think Jesus was a both/and kind of guy. He constantly turned pious religiosity on its ear. I think Jesus actually meant what he said: We must be as little children. I cannot imagine heaven without the playfulness and joy and exuberance of children.
I am tired of religion's pomposity and seriousness. I want the pope on his knees in a sandbox with children. I want Jimmy Swaggart singing and dancing to show tunes and smiling: "Yes! I am attracted to men. Giggle. You're cute!" I want "The Secret" out and for free. Please stop selling pop culture religiosity "as seen on Oprah!"
I want to do a sermon on Mary Magdalene dressed in my favorite red cocktail dress. It's short and tight, and Kim Basinger wore it on the cover of a Cosmo a few years back. I want my faith to be outrageous and joyful and full of fun. I want to dance in church and sing loud and off-key.
I want the children front and center, noisy and spontaneous, dancing in the aisles, interrupting my sermons. And they do, in my home church.
I want our prayers to be heartfelt and honest and not just about other people's suffering. Yes, it is good that we can bring our concerns for others to church, but I sing hurrah for the young man who prays for a partner, for the middle-aged man who prays for a job after a layoff, for the grandmoms who celebrate their grandbabies. I'm gonna be one of them soon. I will certainly be silly in love in my prayers then, too.
We pray for our pets in our church too, and we say thank you for life, for surprises, for birthdays (and then we sing Happy Birthday right in the middle of our prayers), because God celebrates with us, rejoices with us, and teaches us more through the wide-eyed wonder of children than through any other means.
I'm on a campaign to bring silliness and joy into the very center of our faith. What would you be like if you joined the party?
— — —
Rev. Kristi Denham is pastor of the Congregational Church of Belmont, California (United Church of Christ). Her email address is {email RevKristi@aol.com}RevKristi@aol.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Kristi Denham.
In Presbyterian seminary, where I received my master's of divinity (oh, that sounds so pompous and important, doesn't it?), they assured me that Jesus' declaration that we must be like little children to enter the kingdom of Heaven did not mean that we should actually be like little children. No, my professors explained, Jesus meant only or rather that we must identify with the poverty and low status that children represented in the culture of their day, rather than the precious elevated status we tend to give our children in postmodern America. We should stand with the weak and the downtrodden, a noble ambition, and certainly true. But ...
I think Jesus was a both/and kind of guy. He constantly turned pious religiosity on its ear. I think Jesus actually meant what he said: We must be as little children. I cannot imagine heaven without the playfulness and joy and exuberance of children.
I am tired of religion's pomposity and seriousness. I want the pope on his knees in a sandbox with children. I want Jimmy Swaggart singing and dancing to show tunes and smiling: "Yes! I am attracted to men. Giggle. You're cute!" I want "The Secret" out and for free. Please stop selling pop culture religiosity "as seen on Oprah!"
I want to do a sermon on Mary Magdalene dressed in my favorite red cocktail dress. It's short and tight, and Kim Basinger wore it on the cover of a Cosmo a few years back. I want my faith to be outrageous and joyful and full of fun. I want to dance in church and sing loud and off-key.
I want the children front and center, noisy and spontaneous, dancing in the aisles, interrupting my sermons. And they do, in my home church.
I want our prayers to be heartfelt and honest and not just about other people's suffering. Yes, it is good that we can bring our concerns for others to church, but I sing hurrah for the young man who prays for a partner, for the middle-aged man who prays for a job after a layoff, for the grandmoms who celebrate their grandbabies. I'm gonna be one of them soon. I will certainly be silly in love in my prayers then, too.
We pray for our pets in our church too, and we say thank you for life, for surprises, for birthdays (and then we sing Happy Birthday right in the middle of our prayers), because God celebrates with us, rejoices with us, and teaches us more through the wide-eyed wonder of children than through any other means.
I'm on a campaign to bring silliness and joy into the very center of our faith. What would you be like if you joined the party?
— — —
Rev. Kristi Denham is pastor of the Congregational Church of Belmont, California (United Church of Christ). Her email address is {email RevKristi@aol.com}RevKristi@aol.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Kristi Denham.