A question came up about Northbrae at our retreat, a week ago yesterday.

Over the years, as we sit around folding tables or in casual conversation, and even when we gather in small groups, in our living rooms … we sometimes muse over this same question.

"What does Northbrae stand for?"

"What does Northbrae believe?

If you were to tell someone what Northbrae is about, how would you explain it?

Now personally, I like the ambiguity.

(1) For one, in my opinion, this is what makes Northbrae unique.

Unitarians, Methodist, others – all have statements saying what they are about.

Northbrae does not. Northbrae lives in the confusion.

(2) And two, as long as we are reasonably congruent in our approach, our ambiguity invites us to focus more on relationships than ideas.

Which is something churches, as well as nations, sorely need.

But still, the questions keep coming and they need to be addressed.

When we draw these questions into sharper focus, they come down to two:

What is Northbrae’s relationship to Christianity?

And what does it mean for a progressive minded person, in this day and age, to be identified with and talk about his or her Christianity?

All of us live in a "Christian" culture infused with "Christian" images and ideas.

Many of us, perhaps most, come from some kind of Christian background.

In the midst of all this, Northbrae sits here with no creed.

We do not address it in our purpose. There is no mention of God or Christ in our stated purpose. Only "religion" and "morality."

In our Torchbearer windows, Jesus is there, but Jesus is one among many.

So, it is a valid question.

What is Northbrae’s relationship to Christianity?

And what does it mean for a progressive minded person, in this day and age, to be identified with and talk about his or her Christianity?

I identify myself as Christian, albeit, I would not want to draw lines around that. I am a Christian.

Yet in many circles, I am embarrassed to represent myself as that, for all the connotations that people associate with it.

Our culture is saturated with a plethora of so-called "Christian" ideas and political philosophies that I do not support.

To claim a Christian identity and sort out what that means is a most difficult task.

This is less so with Judaism and Islam.

Both of these religions wed their faith to their original language.

You cannot fully appreciate the intricacies and beauty of Judaism without hearing and understanding it in Hebrew.

And to read the Koran and fully appreciate it, Arabic is essential; any other language waters down the meaning.

Not so with Christianity.

Christianity will translate itself into the language of the recipient culture.

This is intentional and central to the faith … as we see in the book of Acts.

On the day of Pentecost, the inauguration of Christianity on the world stage, people spoke their faith in each other’s tongue.

By translating itself into other languages and cultures, it absorbs the connotations and associated practices of those cultures.

Words for "God," "Faith," "Love"—all come from the native language.

They will mean what those words have always meant.

Hence, in Latin America, we see a hybrid of Christianity with indigenous and African religions.

The same in Jamaica.

In Asian cultures, Christianity is absorbed into Buddhism, and the same terms can be used to express both.

The dates for both Christmas and Easter were set according to the earth religions in the culture at the times.

This is the great strength of Christianity, the way it embraces and includes other traditions.

This is consistent with what Dr. Cross, the founder of Northbrae, used to imply: Christianity is a WAY of being religious in a given religious and cultural context.

The Magi from the East, the ancient "Epiphany," testifies to the inclusive and affirming nature of Christianity in varied religious contexts.

Where this becomes Christianity’s greatest weakness is when it moves into a culture, absorbs the pervasions of that culture, and then claims to be the only way.

Then, Christianity becomes dangerous.

Consider the struggle in all this: to sort out a proactive progressive Christianity in today’ world.

Christianity is associated with right-wing politics.

It associates its identity with things I do not support:

Pro-life, creationism, "Christian" prayers in public schools.

Christianity gets used to justify war.

The "Late Great Planet Earth," the "Left Behind" series, the final days—all build a theological context for fighting "Evil," or a "Great Satan."

I cannot go there. To me, this is un-Christian.

I grew up in a church where people stood, opened their hymnbooks, and sang: "Onward Christian soldiers, marching as to war, with the cross of Jesus, going on before."

That thinking goes back to Constantine, marching off to war with a red cross on a white banner. Or the Crusades, people marching forth to "free" the Holy Lands.

I cannot go there, and I feel the dissonance of the distance.

Christianity does not have a pretty history. Indeed, it is quite ugly.

The Spanish Inquisition.

A culturally captivated Christianity that has justified colonialism.

From a textbook, I remember a political cartoon, taken from a newspaper somewhere back in the 1800s.

It pictured a wagon train going west, and an angel in the clouds above, pointing westward, and a caption that read, "Our ‘Manifest Destiny’."

I cannot go there. Yet to divorce ourselves from something so deeply ingrained in our western roots … what is left? Where can we go?

Theologically, there are so many ideas about which we are uncomfortable.

The mythology of heaven and hell, taken literally – I cannot accept.

Taking the Bible literally – I cannot, in good conscience, do that.

The idea of substitutionary atonement. Singing hymns like, "Washed in the Blood;" that is so foreign to my thinking!

But if not these, then what? What’s left?

As I see it …

[and for their influence, I’m grateful for the writings of Matthew Fox, and a spirituality that goes back to Meister Eckhart … a spirituality that begins with feeling deep AWE for creation.]

As I see it, the great fault-line in Christianity is not over views about God, or even ideas about Christ, but our differing understandings about the basic nature of people.

On one side of this fault-line, going one way, many Christians believe that the basic nature of people is bad – original sin, as they say – and we need to be "redeemed" or "saved."

This becomes the role of Jesus; to "save" us form our original "bad."

On the other side of this fault-line, going the other way, some believe that the basic nature of people is good – as per the Creation story in Genesis. God pronounces it all "very good."

In this view, Jesus comes not so much to ‘redeem’ us but to ‘remind’ us of something fundamental that we’ve forgotten, namely, our basic goodness.

To be proactive and not reactive about our Christianity, I recommend coming up with one word. One word. To represent the whole of it.

A ‘backpack’ word, into which we could stuff all kinds of ideas.

It could be "Emanuel," (God with us), or "love" (agape), or "grace," (God’s unconditional acceptance)." Many good words.

My ‘backpack’ word is "incarnation."

"In" means "in." "Carnal" means "flesh." The idea is that God lives in flesh.

"Incarnation" means that a spark of God’s creative intelligence lives embodied in the world and within each of us.

The story of Jesus, taken literally or allegorically, teaches this truth.

God lives within us. And God lives in our midst.

Crucifixion and Resurrection … how life can go wrong and how life can recreate itself, explores precisely how God lives in flesh.

To take a wide-angle perspective, we might look for how other religions represent this same truth.

In Judaism, there is a song entitled, "Elohai Neshama." "My God, My Soul."

The idea is that the living expression of God flows through each human soul.

Psalm 139, the text read this morning.

God hems us in. Behind us and before. With our lying down and our getting up.

God saturates us. God is closer to us than we are to ourselves.

Years ago, we had a Bar Mitzvah, Bat Mitzvah, here in our sanctuary.

It was for five adults who didn’t get a chance to go through this when they were 12.

I was invited to attend.

They each had a project, and a presentation.

One of them held up a graph of the four-letter name of God (yod, heh, vov, heh).

The letters were stacked on top of each other.

The yod was like a comma.

The heh, a bar with two lines hanging down from each end.

The vov, a vertical line.

The final heh, another bar with two lines hanging down.

It looked like a stick figure of a human being.

And she said, if we can look at another human being, and see the Holy Name of God, we will understand what is needed to realize shalom.

Rarely have I heard a better explanation of Christian "incarnation."

Hinduism represents incarnation with the "yana mudra," the outstretched palm with the thumb and index finger joined, "yoked" together.

One is Brahman, the creator God. The other is Atman, the God that lives within.

The realization of the two, joined, is the inner journey of "yoga," "yoking."

Buddhism talks about everything having the "Buddha Nature," and invites people to mediate to realize the "Buddha Mind" within. Enlightenment.

Scholars write books comparing this to Christian theology, where the scriptures speak of "Christos Nous," or the "Mind of Christ," and invite us to share in it.

Christianity lifts incarnation to its central motif.

John 1:1 … In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. John 1:14 … And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

And later in John, Jesus says, I am in the Father and the Father is in me, I am in you and you are in Me. Incarnation.

This is a geode. It’s a round rock that is ugly, … on the outside.

But cut it in half with a diamond wheel and it is beautiful on the inside.

Tiny crystals. Swirling agate. Slowly formed as the molten rock cooled.

This is another piece. Ugly. Black and dull green … on the outside.

But cut it with a diamond wheel and we see Amethyst crystals on the inside.

Six sided, purple-blue formations. Sparkling in the light. Beautiful.

In many ways, Christianity is like this. And perhaps, so are other religions.

On the outside, religions can become ugly in their expressions.

But cut deep into what they are all about, and there is a uniqueness and hidden beauty in each.

When Connie and I first started dating, we both had some bad memories to overcome.

We wanted to build up a little history of our own. Some good memories.

We took up an unusual hobby of collecting rocks … something that was new to us both.

We purchased a tumbler to polish rocks – tiger’s eye, blue lace, Mexican crazy lace.

We purchased a diamond wheel and polisher. Small one, about this size.

We cut them, polished them, made rings out of them; and she wore them.

We’d go over to Blue Springs, Missouri where we met a man who loved rocks, and who ran a small rock-shop out of his home.

His whole life was rocks, collected from all over the world.

His back yard was full of rocks of all kinds.

Every shelf and corner in his house had rocks of one kind or another.

In his kitchen and living room.

He told us that he even had boxes full of rocks slid under his bed.

His wife was a very patient woman.

His collection was totally disorganized – yet he seemed to know where every piece was.

He had a huge diamond wheel in his basement, and I asked him once, if he ever wondered what was in those rocks he kept in his back yard.

His eyes glazed over, and with a worship-soften voice, he’d said, "All - the - time."

He handled each rock with kitten-fingers, as if it was precious gold.

We would bargain for rocks, and we all were generous.

If I had cut into a piece that he really liked, I’d give it to him.

If I wanted a piece that I could not quite afford, he would reduce the price.

When he died, his son took over the shop.

He came in with his computer and began classifying all the rocks, labeling them, organizing them on shelves, and putting a much higher price on each piece.

It was never the same. Things were cleaner, more organized.

But it didn’t have the love of it. The spirit was gone.

Religions can become the same way.

We can love it, in its paradoxical and disorganized array.

Or we can organize it, define it, put it in little boxes, and watch the spirit drain from it.

I have my theology worked out enough where I can stand shoulder to shoulder with someone and discuss my Christianity.

I recommend this for others, each in their own way, but with a spirit of play and exploration.

And to do it so, not in reaction to people, or to argue theologies, but to find what sparkles within us.

And to let you in on a little secret, all in all, truth be know, I’m almost as confused now as when I first started on this journey. There is so much to learn!

And you know, I kind of like it that way. I thank God for a little touch of confusion and chaos.

For once we get our thinking all wrapped up in a nice little package, we will lose the spirit and joy of play and discovery.