I decided our family's
Christmas would be simple and spirit-centered. Green to parenting, I
defined spiritual as anything that allowed me a minute to reflect on what, beyond the laundry, mattered.
There is quite a gap between the
wilderness-pilgrimage baptisms of John and
the small and hidden baptismal places in
many of our worship spaces. Happily, this is changing.
As a pastor in New York City, I've found myself challenged to think more deeply about “stuff." I've come to believe that the truth about what we too casually name “materialism” is not so simple. It ought to be clear, after all, that God doesn’t hate stuff. Witness the creation story. God invents stuff. At the end of each of six days, God engages in self-congratulation, pronouncing serial evening benedictions on the stuff created that day: “Good!”
Since ancient times, travelers have journeyed to sites of religious significance in order to deepen their faith. But I’ve never been much of a pilgrim. I was raised a Pentecostal, and in one regard our brand of faith was very modern: unlike most premodern people, we did not recognize any “sacred places.” For us, all places were alike to God because God had created them all.