Chautauqua Reflection V: Charter For Compassion

While at Chautauqua last month, I met with religion author Karen Armstrong.  Much of our discussion was on her "Charter for Compassion," which was her wish after winning the TED Prize in 2008.  The Charter for Compassion was written in 2009, and the movement is growing.  It's a very inspiring statement/movement.  Below is the complete text of the Charter.  Additional information can be found at charterforcompassion.org.

The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect.

It is also necessary in both public and private life to refrain consistently and empathically from inflicting pain. To act or speak violently out of spite, chauvinism, or self-interest, to impoverish, exploit or deny basic rights to anybody, and to incite hatred by denigrating others—even our enemies—is a denial of our common humanity. We acknowledge that we have failed to live compassionately and that some have even increased the sum of human misery in the name of religion.

We therefore call upon all men and women ~ to restore compassion to the centre of morality and religion ~ to return to the ancient principle that any interpretation of scripture that breeds violence, hatred or disdain is illegitimate ~ to ensure that youth are given accurate and respectful information about other traditions, religions and cultures ~ to encourage a positive appreciation of cultural and religious diversity ~ to cultivate an informed empathy with the suffering of all human beings—even those regarded as enemies.

We urgently need to make compassion a clear, luminous and dynamic force in our polarized world. Rooted in a principled determination to transcend selfishness, compassion can break down political, dogmatic, ideological and religious boundaries. Born of our deep interdependence, compassion is essential to human relationships and to a fulfilled humanity. It is the path to enlightenment, and indispensable to the creation of a just economy and a peaceful global community.

Chautauqua Reflection IV: Front Porches

Every dwelling at Chautauqua has a front porch.  Personal homes, denominational houses, hotels, public buildings, meeting rooms...they all have the front porch.  Whether it's facing the lake, the amphitheater, or simply the buildings across the street, every home has a front porch.

Front porches serve as a "third place," as Leonard Sweet describes in his book, The Gospel According to Starbucks.  A third place is a place that is not home and not work that allows us to connect relationally with other people.  Third places used to be everywhere.  However, in the second half of the 20th Century, we did away with third places, choosing instead to limit our interaction with strangers to a minimum.  However, Sweet writes:

In a culture without a front porch, in a culture where we built up the backs of our houses with decks and walls, not the fronts of our houses where we might connect with a passing neighbor; in a world where we invested in privacy over hospitality, Starbucks spoke these words: "We'll be your front porch.  Hang out here."


Sweet's point is that church used to be a third place, a connection point for relating with fellow humans.  Yet, we have drifted away from that, and perhaps we should follow the example and return to such an idea.

Most of the meaningful conversations and connections I made with others came on front porches at Chautauqua:

• Meeting fellow United Methodists at the denominational house.
• Sharing the beauty of a summer morning with a new friend, gazing at the peaceful waters of the lake while discussing the importance of Sabbath.
• Analyzing the prospective 2012 fantasy baseball values of Pedro Alvarez and Domonic Brown with a fellow baseball fan.
• Playfully debating which denomination has the best preachers, and whether it is appropriate for United Methodists to learn preaching from Tom Long, who happens to be Presbyterian.
• Listening to a colleague sharing struggles from her current ministry setting.
• Chatting with members of our congregation on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

All these conversations happened on front porches.  Half of them probably would not have occurred had it not been for Chautauqua's front porch culture.  All week, I reflected back on Sweet's words, wondering how the church might find a way to serve as a third place, as a point of connection, as a front porch to our culture. How are our churches acting as front porches?  If they are not, what might we need to change?

Chautauqua Reflection III: Red Thread

While at Chautauqua, I heard Barbara Lundblad preach some very inspiring sermons.  The one that stuck with me, and with most people there that week, was her sermon on Rahab the Prostitute.

You can read Rahab's story in the Old Testament - in Joshua 2:1-24.  As the Israelites prepare to enter the promised land, Jericho is a city in the way.  As Dr. Lundblad noted, it's always a bit unsettling to arrive in the promised land only to discover that someone else is already there.  So spies are sent on a scouting mission to Jericho, and while there are protected by Rahab, hiding out on the roof of the brothel in the city wall.  In exchange for her protection of them, they work out a deal in which she will hang a crimson cord - a red thread - out of her window, and her home and family within will be spared.  While the rest of Jericho is pillaged, the red thread saves Rahab.

There are many puzzling things about this story.  Why was Rahab protecting outsiders who were about to destroy her city?  Why do the men agree to protect a prostitute?  For that matter, why is the protagonist of a biblical story a prostitute?  And most puzzling to me is the point Dr. Lundblad made in her sermon: who is the outsider?  It depends on where you stand, doesn't it?  For Rahab and the people of Jericho, the men are the outsiders.  But for the Israelite sympathizer, the outsiders are these folks who stand in the way of the promised land.

More than anything, Lundblad said, this story is a reminder that we ought not overlook the red thread.  We ought to pay attention to those caught up in the city wall, a position right on the line between "us" and "them."  The red thread reminds us to see the face of neighbor and enemy in the midst of holy conquest.

Lundblad framed this in the context of 9/11.  As we approach the 10th anniversary of that tragic day, it's time, she said, to organize a red thread campaign.  The red thread can be a sign that we mourn the attack on one of our cities. It can be a sign that insider vs. outsider is a much more complicated debate than we want to believe.  And it can be a sign that in the midst of a struggle that continues, we fix our eyes on those in the margins of the conflict, on Rahab and those lives valued and saved in the midst of violent conflict.

It's time for the Red Thread Campaign.  It's not time to more fervently delineate the lines between us and them, or to celebrate war, or to declare God's blessing on our holy conquest over the holy conquest of another.  It's time to hang a Red Thread in the window, as a reminder to ourselves and others that we mourn lost life and seek God's protection for all human life caught up in the midst of conflict.

Chautauqua Reflection II: The Body of Christ

Over the last few years, the Chautauqua Religion Department has organized an ecumenical communion service one Sunday each summer.  Sunday morning worship in the amphitheater is a high point of the week, with over 4,000 in attendance and well-known preachers at the pulpit.  The week I was there, it was the week of ecumenical communion, with Barbara Lundblad preaching.

About 35 clergy, including me, participated as servers.  It was a wonderful celebration to participate in, seeing people of varied denominations come together to unite as the body of Christ.

But later that day, I was reminded of how broken that body of Christ still is.  We ran into someone we know who stated with heaviness that some people left during the sermon, prior to communion.  The likely reason was that Dr. Lundblad mentioned gay marriage becoming legal in the state of New York, although it was not central to the point of the sermon.  Her message was that with difficult current issues, our response as Christians should be to try to bring something old (tradition, scripture) and something new (scientific discovery, experience) to the conversation as we discern the correct path to take.  We cannot and should not ignore tradition and scripture, but we also cannot be imprisoned by it.  Dr. Lundblad merely used gay marriage and the U.S. debt ceiling as examples of tough issues which we face, but for those who left as soon as they heard the words "gay marriage," they missed the real point of the sermon, which was pretty non-controversial even though her illustrations were.

And so this is the body of Christ.  We are united by Christ, but we are not yet a perfectly whole body.  We still hurt each other, intentionally or not.  We still get offended, rightfully or not.  However, an ecumenical communion service at Chautauqua would have been unheard of not too long ago.  That Sunday reminded me of how far we've come in uniting as Christ's body, and yet how far we still have to go.  We are a body, but we are still broken.  I pray that one day we may be made whole again.

Chautauqua Reflection I: "The Chautauqua Experience"

It's difficult to describe Chautauqua Institution to those who have never been there.  Is it a resort?  Is it a collection of summer homes?  Is it a religious retreat and conference center?  Is it a summer-long academic conference?  Is it a place to bicycle, kayak, and swim?  Is it a relatively homogenous gated community that seems cult-like at times?  What is Chautauqua?

Chautauqua is all of these things, and more.  That's why they call it the Chautauqua Experience - until you immerse yourself into the rhythm of a summer week at Chautauqua, it's difficult to get a handle on its purpose.  According to its own mission statement, it is a non-profit community "dedicated to the exploration of the best in human values and the enrichment of life" through four program areas: The Arts, Religion, Education, and Recreation.  In short, it was created (with Methodist roots) as an experiment in a "learning vacation," and I found it to be the rare place that can nourish MIND, BODY, and SOUL.

Unfortunately, with the busy schedule of the New Clergy Program and my mid-week trip home, my body was drained rather than nourished by Chautauqua.  However, the week was certainly nourishing to both my mind and soul.  There, I had the pleasure of engaging my faith with intellect and reason at a level not felt since seminary.

The rhythm of our week went as follows: each morning began with shared breakfast that encouraged community among our group, followed by morning worship (Barbara Lundblad was the preacher of the week).  There was a morning lecture to follow; this week's theme was "21st Century Women: The Road to Social and Economic Growth."  In the afternoon, we attended the interfaith lectures (theme: Women Transcending Boundaries), then met with either the lecturer or another distinguished guest.  Evenings afforded us opportunities for discussion and learning, and at times allowed us to meet with yet another distinguished religious leader.  Late evenings were free so we could take in the evening performances at the amphitheater: symphony, ballet, choir, or Allison Krauss.

The Chautauqua Experience, especially through this New Clergy Program, was both relaxing and exhausting for me.  But I did enjoy it thoroughly, and do plan to return in future years.

Next Reflection: "Ecumenical Communion at Sunday Worship"

Chautauqua, Death, and a Skydiving Cat

Last week was a week I won't soon forget.  The plan was to spend the whole week at Chautauqua Institution in NY.  I'd been accepted into a program run by the religion department there called the New Clergy Leadership Conference.  It consists of clergy from many faith traditions spending a week, discussing relevant issues pertaining to leadership in ministry, as well as participating in what people commonly call "the Chautauqua experience."

But, as often happens in ordained ministry, there was a death in our congregation and I returned home for two days mid-week to tend to the family and lead the funeral service.  While home, I also spent time tending to one of our two cats, who fell out of a 2nd floor window in our home and broke his paw.  Needless to say, I got very little sleep.

Since things were so hectic, I didn't get a chance to do what I had hoped: to blog about the Chautauqua new clergy program while I was experiencing it.  But over the next couple of weeks, I plan to share some reflections in this space about my week at Chautauqua and the ways it enriched me.  So check back for several installments in the days ahead, pray for the grieving family in our congregation, and if you have cats, don't let them lean up against the window screens!