"I wish that all were as I myself am. But each has a particular gift from God, one having one kind and another a different kind.
To the unmarried and the widows I say that it is well for them to remain unmarried as I am. But if they are not practicing self-control, they should marry. For it is better to marry than to be aflame with passion." 1 Corinthians 7:7-9
Kind of a weird text to wander to in the Advent season, but not any weirder than many you'll hear in church or in your devotional reading these days.
Paul is writing to the Corinthians who have asked him advice--"Dear Abby" style--on how to order their relationships as Christians. And the advice he gives is...well, weird. He apparently thinks that celibacy (his own lifestyle) is ideal if you can hack it, but if it's too distracting, to go ahead and get married. He goes on to say that those who are married should probably stay married, even if they're married to unbelievers, which apparently was a point of some controversy in the community.
So what's going on here? Why celibacy? Why marriage? What's Paul's reasoning? Well, it has to do with a certain internal logic to what might be called "Christianity, Phase I": the first generation or so of believers in Jesus. And the internal logic went something like this: "What is the point of complicating your life, when our Lord could return at any moment?" Why get married if you have no idea how long it will last? On the other hand, why stay single if it'll just distract you from what you need to focus on in these last days? And for that matter, why separate from a spouse or partner when you don't have to? In short, why make any change at all? The general state of mind for Paul seemed to be, "to prepare for Christ's return, keep your lives AS SIMPLE AS POSSIBLE."
Now, "Christianity, Phase I" obviously didn't last long. The whole reason we even have the gospels, and that they date from a full generation or so after the events they describe, is that until that point, folks didn't see the point of writing it down! Why waste the time on stuff like that when a new age is just around the corner? Want to know what Jesus was like? Go ask Peter! Go ask John! Ask Mary Magdalene! But, as these first witnesses began to die off, as people began to doubt their own assumption that Jesus' return would happen in their own lifetime, some stuff had to be recorded and codified. Some structure had to be set up, in the event that the present age hangs on for a while.
We are now roughly 1900 years into "Christianity, Phase II." We are no longer flying by the seat of our collective pants. For better or worse, we now have structures in place to help people hear the story of Jesus. Those structures are in constant need of reform, we have them. You do still sometimes hear people talking about celibacy as one option, for those especially called to it, but you generally hear Paul's advice taken with a grain of salt, because, with all the seismic changes that happened in his own age, how could he have known that this thing called the cosmos was going to roll on for another two millennia?
But I wonder if there isn't still something to the spirit of Paul's words: keep your lives as simple as possible. If you're called to it, get married. Start a family. If you're not, don't. By all means, don't distract yourself from the work of a disciple, by trying to fit into a cookie cutter lifestyle dictated by somebody else. For goodness' sake, life is already complicated, and life as a person of faith even more so, without all the extra obligations and responsibilities others heap on us, and we heap on ourselves, for no good reason.
We no longer operate on the assumption that Jesus will return in our lifetimes, but part of Advent is remembering that he could. And sadly, just like clockwork, this message comes at the single most complicated time of year for us, in just about every aspect of our lives. It's a tangled mess of obligations and responsibilities, professional and personal. the run-up to Christmas is our culture's chosen time to write letters to people you neither hear from nor contact at any time in the rest of the year, to socialize with coworkers in ways that are not expected at any other time of year, to volunteer your time for good causes that you tend to forget about during the rest of the year, to have all your friends and family over whom you don't see during the rest of the year, to travel all over creation, to spend money you don't have at an even greater pace than usual, and in the midst of it all, to make sure people know you're enjoying every minute of it. And as much as any one of those things, or even a more manageable combination of them, might bring you joy, when it all comes together at the same time, it gets...well, complicated. More complicated than it needs to be.
So that's why I love coming to Church in Advent. I know, I know, it's one more thing on the to-do list. But it's literally the one place in my life where it's not Christmas yet. It's a place where the priority is just to be with God, to be hopeful, and to know that something better than the world we know is coming. It's a place that helps us simplify. It's a place that reminds us that even if Jesus doesn't return tomorrow, our lives are short, and it's important to ask: "If this were my last day, is this how I'd want to have spent it?" The web of obligations that we get stuck in need not reach there. In there, it's about God's promise: all will be well, and it's not your job to make it well. God is on the job already.
So, I invite you to take a little break from Christmas this year. Join us for worship.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
"I'm Pro-Paradox and I Vote!"
"The church is the assembly of saints in which the gospel is taught purely and the sacraments are administered rightly. And it is enough for the true unity of the church to agree concerning the teaching of the gospel and the administration of the sacraments." The Augsburg Confession, Article VII.
I'll admit it's a little "un-Lutheran" of me, at least according to Garrison Keillor's "Lake Wobegon" stereotype, but some days I'm really proud of my church.
There's no way Martin Luther could've predicted on All Hallows Eve of 1517, as he was posting his 95 theses, the 16th-century equivalent of a blog post that went viral, that some day in the distant future in a distant land people would still use that day to commemorate God's ever-reforming church. Nor, of course, could he have foreseen that this commemoration would happen within a week or so of our election day: a time when ordinary citizens take into their hands a power unparallelled in history, to decide our own future, to reform our country and our world. But I think God was up to something here.
I invite you to download and read the linked pastoral letter of our synodical bishop, Wolfgang Herz-Lane, addressing "Question 6," regarding the Civil Marriage Protection Act passed by the Maryland state legislature. As the letter mentions, Bishop Herz-Lane writes at the express request of 2012 the Delaware/Maryland Synod Assembly, and after organized discussion forums throughout the synod, and of course, much prayer.
I've read the letter over several times now, and here's what you're NOT going to find there:
1) A systematic Lutheran theology of marriage. Bishop Herz-Lane does make reference to "Human Sexuality: Gift and Trust", the ELCA's 2009 Social Statement on human sexuality in general, and the controversial issue of publicly accountable, lifelong, same-gender relationships in particular. But even when he does, he makes clear that the document doesn't try to settle these issues once and for all, but rather underline how ambivalent, divided, and lacking in consensus our church was on this issue 3 years ago, and continues to be today. Our strength comes not from agreeing on every issue, but from continuing to struggle with it together, and in the mean time, trusting in God's grace.
2) A "voting guide" for this or any other issue. Lutherans don't do "voting guides." To quote directly from the letter,
"Unlike some other churches, the ELCA does not tell its members how to vote in the public arena. The Lutheran church was born rejecting the notion that a priest or a bishop or even a pope should be telling folks what to believe and how to act."
Does this mean in our political discourse that we don't bother to talk together about scripture, about the Christian tradition, about the values Jesus and his disciples held dear? Nope. Does it mean we should just shut up about how we're going to vote, and refrain from sharing our opinions and even lovingly challenging others to reflect on theirs? Absolutely not. In fact, it means that this discussion should happen, and not be shut down by any human authority. It should take place with each believer on equal footing under God's Word and our God-given gift of moral discernment.
3) A blanket condemnation of proponents OR opponents of this legislation. Part of what makes our country so strong is our freedom of religion: to believe and organize our communities of faith as we so choose. That said, in light of recent actions of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, I have to admit that I feel a lot of sympathy for American Catholics as election day approaches. The idea that I might not be welcome to the Communion meal if I were to support this legislation, let alone if I were to identify as gay and ask my fellow citizens for the same civil rights they enjoy every day, is one that is, admittedly, foreign to me.
This leads me to what our bishop's letter DOES say. It gives some background on the struggle of the ELCA and its predecessor bodies with this issue. It assures congregations and pastors that, just as the ELCA is not forcing anyone to perform a ceremonies they can't in good conscience support, neither will the state of Maryland should this law pass. The letter makes the distinction, first made by Martin Luther himself, between marriage as a legal contract, ratified by the state, and the blessings churches can choose to offer on that contract. It even reveals the bishop's own opinion on the issue. But most importantly, it affirms the Lutheran tradition of embracing paradox: Justified and yet sinners, Law and Gospel, God's kingdom as "already" and "not yet". It affirms that agreement on this or any social issue is not a prerequisite for communing or being "church" together. We can be church and disagree. You can come to God's banquet table no matter where your conscience leads you on this issue, because the only thing you need to be to eat there is a sinner, who knows that only God can save you.
Full disclosure: I happen to agree with Bishop Herz-Lane on this issue, and plan to vote accordingly. I believe, after much study, prayer and discussion with other Christians, that the 6 or 7 Bible passages that seem to speak to homosexuality do not, in my view, apply to committed life-long same-gender relationships in the modern day. I believe that even if they did apply, it would be the job of the church to preach and teach this in a loving way, relying on the Holy Spirit to influence hearts and minds, rather than to exert civic law as a blunt instrument to deny the civil rights of any group.
But with all that said, I believe even more strongly in the church as God's people, called by God through our baptism,and gathered, not around any social issue, but around God's Word and Jesus' Body and Blood. I believe that what makes church is not lock-step agreement up and down the ballot, but our common acknowledgment of the Good News: that Jesus has given his life to forgive our sins, and that we are made right with God by our faith. I believe in the paradox of intelligent, faithful Christians who hold opposing views, gathering, as forgiven sinners, for the meal of grace. I'm pro-paradox and I vote!
I'll admit it's a little "un-Lutheran" of me, at least according to Garrison Keillor's "Lake Wobegon" stereotype, but some days I'm really proud of my church.
There's no way Martin Luther could've predicted on All Hallows Eve of 1517, as he was posting his 95 theses, the 16th-century equivalent of a blog post that went viral, that some day in the distant future in a distant land people would still use that day to commemorate God's ever-reforming church. Nor, of course, could he have foreseen that this commemoration would happen within a week or so of our election day: a time when ordinary citizens take into their hands a power unparallelled in history, to decide our own future, to reform our country and our world. But I think God was up to something here.
I invite you to download and read the linked pastoral letter of our synodical bishop, Wolfgang Herz-Lane, addressing "Question 6," regarding the Civil Marriage Protection Act passed by the Maryland state legislature. As the letter mentions, Bishop Herz-Lane writes at the express request of 2012 the Delaware/Maryland Synod Assembly, and after organized discussion forums throughout the synod, and of course, much prayer.
I've read the letter over several times now, and here's what you're NOT going to find there:
1) A systematic Lutheran theology of marriage. Bishop Herz-Lane does make reference to "Human Sexuality: Gift and Trust", the ELCA's 2009 Social Statement on human sexuality in general, and the controversial issue of publicly accountable, lifelong, same-gender relationships in particular. But even when he does, he makes clear that the document doesn't try to settle these issues once and for all, but rather underline how ambivalent, divided, and lacking in consensus our church was on this issue 3 years ago, and continues to be today. Our strength comes not from agreeing on every issue, but from continuing to struggle with it together, and in the mean time, trusting in God's grace.
2) A "voting guide" for this or any other issue. Lutherans don't do "voting guides." To quote directly from the letter,
"Unlike some other churches, the ELCA does not tell its members how to vote in the public arena. The Lutheran church was born rejecting the notion that a priest or a bishop or even a pope should be telling folks what to believe and how to act."
Does this mean in our political discourse that we don't bother to talk together about scripture, about the Christian tradition, about the values Jesus and his disciples held dear? Nope. Does it mean we should just shut up about how we're going to vote, and refrain from sharing our opinions and even lovingly challenging others to reflect on theirs? Absolutely not. In fact, it means that this discussion should happen, and not be shut down by any human authority. It should take place with each believer on equal footing under God's Word and our God-given gift of moral discernment.
3) A blanket condemnation of proponents OR opponents of this legislation. Part of what makes our country so strong is our freedom of religion: to believe and organize our communities of faith as we so choose. That said, in light of recent actions of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, I have to admit that I feel a lot of sympathy for American Catholics as election day approaches. The idea that I might not be welcome to the Communion meal if I were to support this legislation, let alone if I were to identify as gay and ask my fellow citizens for the same civil rights they enjoy every day, is one that is, admittedly, foreign to me.
This leads me to what our bishop's letter DOES say. It gives some background on the struggle of the ELCA and its predecessor bodies with this issue. It assures congregations and pastors that, just as the ELCA is not forcing anyone to perform a ceremonies they can't in good conscience support, neither will the state of Maryland should this law pass. The letter makes the distinction, first made by Martin Luther himself, between marriage as a legal contract, ratified by the state, and the blessings churches can choose to offer on that contract. It even reveals the bishop's own opinion on the issue. But most importantly, it affirms the Lutheran tradition of embracing paradox: Justified and yet sinners, Law and Gospel, God's kingdom as "already" and "not yet". It affirms that agreement on this or any social issue is not a prerequisite for communing or being "church" together. We can be church and disagree. You can come to God's banquet table no matter where your conscience leads you on this issue, because the only thing you need to be to eat there is a sinner, who knows that only God can save you.
Full disclosure: I happen to agree with Bishop Herz-Lane on this issue, and plan to vote accordingly. I believe, after much study, prayer and discussion with other Christians, that the 6 or 7 Bible passages that seem to speak to homosexuality do not, in my view, apply to committed life-long same-gender relationships in the modern day. I believe that even if they did apply, it would be the job of the church to preach and teach this in a loving way, relying on the Holy Spirit to influence hearts and minds, rather than to exert civic law as a blunt instrument to deny the civil rights of any group.
But with all that said, I believe even more strongly in the church as God's people, called by God through our baptism,and gathered, not around any social issue, but around God's Word and Jesus' Body and Blood. I believe that what makes church is not lock-step agreement up and down the ballot, but our common acknowledgment of the Good News: that Jesus has given his life to forgive our sins, and that we are made right with God by our faith. I believe in the paradox of intelligent, faithful Christians who hold opposing views, gathering, as forgiven sinners, for the meal of grace. I'm pro-paradox and I vote!
Friday, September 28, 2012
Fun Facts (and Myths) About Angels
Well, believe it or not, I had a little time on my hands this week, and I decided to do some self-guided continuing education. As you may or may not know, Today is the Festival of St. Michael and All Angels (which is, interestingly enough, the one and only Christian commemoration of a saint who is not a human being). Since Salem is the only congregation I've ever served that not only celebrates this festival each year, but also chooses it as our "Confirmation Sunday" in which our youth say "yes" to their baptism, I thought I'd do a little Biblical sleuthing on the subject of angels. Who and what are they, what do they do, and why should we care?
So, without further ado, here are Four Myths About Angels, Debunked by the Bible.
Myth #1: Angels Have Wings. Hey, I'm not one to call into question just about every religious drawing, Christmas ornament, and motivational poster you've ever seen...it's just not in the Bible. Angels are often described as beautiful (and more often, good-looking people are described as "looking like an angel"), but by and large, the only descriptor we have is that angels look like people. In fact, they are frequently mistaken for people, even by the most spiritually "in touch" of Biblical characters.
Now, there are a couple of Bible verses that suggest angels can fly. Revelation is pretty saturated with that kind of stuff. There is, of course, the story of the angel announcing Jesus' birth, which, if you already picture angels having wings, kind of "seals the deal" for that image. I mean, how else could angels go "back into heaven", right? But remember, Luke's gospel ends with Jesus' ascension, and I've never heard of anybody claiming that he had wings. Now the story of Jacob's ladder might be another one to make us think twice, but then...ummm...why would they need a ladder?
Now, I don't want you thinking that the whole "angels have wings" thing was completely plucked out of the sky (pun intended). It wasn't. It's just that there are these other heavenly creatures called Cherubim and Seraphim, who not only are described as having wings, but it's their distinguishing characteristic. It's the Cherubim that show up in artwork in the Holy Temple(wings and all). and Seraphim, as you may remember, figure prominently in Isaiah's call story. But, uh, here's the thing with that...see, the word "Seraph" in the Old Testament is also used for poisonous serpents. So, a serpent, that has six wings rather than two, bears little or no resemblance to an "angel" as described anywhere else in the Bible. Kind of a mystery, really, but it's clear these are 2 different things. Moving on...
Myth #2: Angels are assigned to individuals for protection. You've probably seen many a cartoon in which an angel is tasked with guarding an individual human, and find themselves getting distracted, with hilarious results. Sorry, Loony Toons fans. Also not Biblical. There are several references to an angel traveling with the Israelites in the wilderness, and helping them as a nation, but only in a couple of isolated cases do we see an angel show up to guard one person. Interestingly, both of those are in Daniel. The first is the good ol' fiery furnace, and the second is Daniel in the Lions' Den. Now there have been books and books written about the peculiarities of Daniel, but suffice it to say this is a theme that we don't find throughout scripture.
In fact, in Matthew and Luke, the Devil even tries to draw Jesus into some magical thinking in the "guardian angel" department by inviting him to jump off the pinnacle of the temple. Needless to say,this does not fly. Angels are almost always sent to deliver messages from God: not to be God's bouncers, nor God's special email-forward-based good luck charms. Hate to break it to you, but when you stub your toe, it's usually your own fault.
Myth #3: Satan used to be an angel. Alright, so I'm sure you can tell me the story. Lucifer was the most powerful angel, he wanted to be as strong as God, he got all his buddies together and tried to conquer Heaven, but God won and cast them down to hell. We've all heard it. But here's my challenge to you: which book of the Bible is that story in?
The answer: none of them. Most of what we think we know about Satan's "back story", we know from the brilliant imagination of John Milton in Paradise Lost. (Just like most of what we think we know about hell comes from Dante in the 13th century, but that's another post for another day.) Admittedly, Milton based his story on commonly accepted Christian and Jewish traditions. But not on the Bible. I found four references that, if you already believed this story, you could use as flimsy evidence that it's biblical, but not one of them, taken either by itself or even as a group, gives you a fully formed narrative.
First, there's Isaiah 14:12, in which the King James Bible mistakenly translates "Day star" as "Lucifer." No modern Bibles translate it that way, because it's based on the Latin rather than the original Hebrew. Oh, and plus, if you read the whole chapter, it's actually about the king of Babylon, so...
Second, there's Luke 10:17-20., where Jesus says he watched Satan fall from Heaven. But it seems weird that these disciples would come back from exorcising demons, and Jesus would change the subject to primeval history. Seems more likely, don't you think, that Jesus is using figurative language about how his disciples are currently "unseating" the Devil and the forces of evil from the places of cosmic authority? Like, right now, as opposed to before creation began?
Third, there's 2 Corinthians 11:14, where Paul says the Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. That's right. Disguises. Which would make a heck of a lot more sense if he's, you know, not actually an angel of light. Otherwise he's the equivalent of those teenagers who show up at your door each Halloween with no costume on and demand candy. (Not that I see no relation to the Evil One there, but I digress...)
Fourth, we've got Revelation 12:7-12, where our buddy Michael heads up an army to cast Satan and his angels out of Heaven. But then, there's the whole thing where all of Revelation, including this passage, is John's visionary account of God's justice and mercy for the future...not the past.
Myth #4: Angels are exclusively celestial beings. This one falls into the "why should we care?" department. And maybe I should've put it first, since by now if you've been waiting for that, you're totally bored. But here it is, plain and simple. "Angel" is Greek for "messenger." In fact, the word is sometimes used interchangeably for human messengers. So, whether or not you can get your head around the idea of these strange, possibly extra-terrestrial, airborne humanoid beings, flitting around doing God's will, you have to admit it: we're surrounded by angels. We're surrounded by messengers. If you have ever carried a word of hope from God to a loved one, you are an angel. If you have ever uttered the words, "Christ is Risen indeed! Alleluia!" you are an angel. If you have ever been affirmed for who you are as a beloved child of God, you have been attended by angels of the Lord. So Happy St. Michael's to you, my friends, and to all my fellow angels.
So, without further ado, here are Four Myths About Angels, Debunked by the Bible.
Myth #1: Angels Have Wings. Hey, I'm not one to call into question just about every religious drawing, Christmas ornament, and motivational poster you've ever seen...it's just not in the Bible. Angels are often described as beautiful (and more often, good-looking people are described as "looking like an angel"), but by and large, the only descriptor we have is that angels look like people. In fact, they are frequently mistaken for people, even by the most spiritually "in touch" of Biblical characters.
Now, there are a couple of Bible verses that suggest angels can fly. Revelation is pretty saturated with that kind of stuff. There is, of course, the story of the angel announcing Jesus' birth, which, if you already picture angels having wings, kind of "seals the deal" for that image. I mean, how else could angels go "back into heaven", right? But remember, Luke's gospel ends with Jesus' ascension, and I've never heard of anybody claiming that he had wings. Now the story of Jacob's ladder might be another one to make us think twice, but then...ummm...why would they need a ladder?
Now, I don't want you thinking that the whole "angels have wings" thing was completely plucked out of the sky (pun intended). It wasn't. It's just that there are these other heavenly creatures called Cherubim and Seraphim, who not only are described as having wings, but it's their distinguishing characteristic. It's the Cherubim that show up in artwork in the Holy Temple(wings and all). and Seraphim, as you may remember, figure prominently in Isaiah's call story. But, uh, here's the thing with that...see, the word "Seraph" in the Old Testament is also used for poisonous serpents. So, a serpent, that has six wings rather than two, bears little or no resemblance to an "angel" as described anywhere else in the Bible. Kind of a mystery, really, but it's clear these are 2 different things. Moving on...
Myth #2: Angels are assigned to individuals for protection. You've probably seen many a cartoon in which an angel is tasked with guarding an individual human, and find themselves getting distracted, with hilarious results. Sorry, Loony Toons fans. Also not Biblical. There are several references to an angel traveling with the Israelites in the wilderness, and helping them as a nation, but only in a couple of isolated cases do we see an angel show up to guard one person. Interestingly, both of those are in Daniel. The first is the good ol' fiery furnace, and the second is Daniel in the Lions' Den. Now there have been books and books written about the peculiarities of Daniel, but suffice it to say this is a theme that we don't find throughout scripture.
In fact, in Matthew and Luke, the Devil even tries to draw Jesus into some magical thinking in the "guardian angel" department by inviting him to jump off the pinnacle of the temple. Needless to say,this does not fly. Angels are almost always sent to deliver messages from God: not to be God's bouncers, nor God's special email-forward-based good luck charms. Hate to break it to you, but when you stub your toe, it's usually your own fault.
Myth #3: Satan used to be an angel. Alright, so I'm sure you can tell me the story. Lucifer was the most powerful angel, he wanted to be as strong as God, he got all his buddies together and tried to conquer Heaven, but God won and cast them down to hell. We've all heard it. But here's my challenge to you: which book of the Bible is that story in?
The answer: none of them. Most of what we think we know about Satan's "back story", we know from the brilliant imagination of John Milton in Paradise Lost. (Just like most of what we think we know about hell comes from Dante in the 13th century, but that's another post for another day.) Admittedly, Milton based his story on commonly accepted Christian and Jewish traditions. But not on the Bible. I found four references that, if you already believed this story, you could use as flimsy evidence that it's biblical, but not one of them, taken either by itself or even as a group, gives you a fully formed narrative.
First, there's Isaiah 14:12, in which the King James Bible mistakenly translates "Day star" as "Lucifer." No modern Bibles translate it that way, because it's based on the Latin rather than the original Hebrew. Oh, and plus, if you read the whole chapter, it's actually about the king of Babylon, so...
Second, there's Luke 10:17-20., where Jesus says he watched Satan fall from Heaven. But it seems weird that these disciples would come back from exorcising demons, and Jesus would change the subject to primeval history. Seems more likely, don't you think, that Jesus is using figurative language about how his disciples are currently "unseating" the Devil and the forces of evil from the places of cosmic authority? Like, right now, as opposed to before creation began?
Third, there's 2 Corinthians 11:14, where Paul says the Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. That's right. Disguises. Which would make a heck of a lot more sense if he's, you know, not actually an angel of light. Otherwise he's the equivalent of those teenagers who show up at your door each Halloween with no costume on and demand candy. (Not that I see no relation to the Evil One there, but I digress...)
Fourth, we've got Revelation 12:7-12, where our buddy Michael heads up an army to cast Satan and his angels out of Heaven. But then, there's the whole thing where all of Revelation, including this passage, is John's visionary account of God's justice and mercy for the future...not the past.
Myth #4: Angels are exclusively celestial beings. This one falls into the "why should we care?" department. And maybe I should've put it first, since by now if you've been waiting for that, you're totally bored. But here it is, plain and simple. "Angel" is Greek for "messenger." In fact, the word is sometimes used interchangeably for human messengers. So, whether or not you can get your head around the idea of these strange, possibly extra-terrestrial, airborne humanoid beings, flitting around doing God's will, you have to admit it: we're surrounded by angels. We're surrounded by messengers. If you have ever carried a word of hope from God to a loved one, you are an angel. If you have ever uttered the words, "Christ is Risen indeed! Alleluia!" you are an angel. If you have ever been affirmed for who you are as a beloved child of God, you have been attended by angels of the Lord. So Happy St. Michael's to you, my friends, and to all my fellow angels.
Monday, August 27, 2012
The "Toddler Arsenal" and Holy Flexibility
Do not remember the former things,
or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
-Isaiah 43:17-18
At breakfast today with Laura and the kids, it occurred to me that in the last few years, we have developed, in my humble opinion, a pretty impressive arsenal of tricks to get our kids to eat their food. Here are a few of my favorites:
The "Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper". In this classic technique, an ordinary salt and pepper shaker--found at almost any dinner table--transform into the characters of Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper from Maggie's favorite show, Blue's Clues. It seems Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper are eager to see Maggie eat her food--especially if it's a new food. She doesn't much care about our opinion, but Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper have much more clout.
The, "If You Don't Want it, I'll Eat it..." It's a good thing this works as well as it does, because bad as it sounds, I actually am often tempted to eat their food.
The "One, Two, Eat a Bite." A simple chant we started with Maggs early on. It often leads to dancing, clapping, table-thumping, and spontaneous vegetable ingestion. The rhythm is, indeed, going to get you...
The "Keg Stand." Please pardon the crass name. We developed this for Soren, because apparently a frat-party atmosphere is conducive to infantile digestion. We simply chant, "Sor-en, Sor-en, Sor-en...." again with the clapping, stomping, table-thumping, until he takes a good bite, and we explode in applause. Especially effective in fine restaurants.
Good Old Reverse Psychology. We just look at Maggs, and say something to the effect of, "Don't you dare eat that carrot!" and act positively outraged when she does. Great for kids in a rebellious or silly mood.
So I never really examined before exactly why we go to such lengths to get our kids to eat. I mean, nutrition is one thing, but for that, we could just leave out cups of cereal, animal crackers, soy nuggets and carrot sticks all day, and sit down to a nice quiet meal as a couple. It could be Laura's and my passion for diversity, and the strong sense that the kids will miss out on lots of good foods if they don't try. (Green Eggs and Ham is a bedtime standard in our house.) But it seems like a lot of effort to put in at every single meal, knowing the kids will probably just revert to Pizza, noodles and Ben & Jerry's their Freshman year of college anyway, like any other red-blooded American kids.
The deeper element I think we, and lots of other parents are working on with our kids, is what might be called "Holy Flexibility": a sense that what lies outside our realm of experience need not be frightening. In fact, the Bible says God almost always calls us from beyond our sphere of knowledge. Holiness, from the earliest stories of God's people, is by definition that which is set apart, and "other." Less like PB&J, and more like Pad Thai.
God called Abram to leave his ancestral home of Haran at age 75. God called the people of Israel out of a fixed status quo in Egypt--oppressive though it was--to a new life of freedom across the sea. Jesus called his disciples to think differently about where God lives, and whom God loves and cares about. He invited them to a New Covenant in his blood. And even after his resurrection, He kept calling believers to keep their ears open: new plans and new horizons were coming their way. From accepting Gentile believers, to processing their experience of God as Three-In-One, all the way down to the last two centuries, beginning to hear God's call for equality of all God's children, an end to slavery and imperialism, a beginning of new opportunities for women and racial integration, God keeps doing new stuff, and we don't want to miss it.
So, this evening at dinner, I plan to try my best to see in our daily cheer-leading ritual more than just vitamins, minerals, and table manner training, but also another step in our process of making disciples. Good thought, anyway. We'll have to see how it goes...
or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
-Isaiah 43:17-18
At breakfast today with Laura and the kids, it occurred to me that in the last few years, we have developed, in my humble opinion, a pretty impressive arsenal of tricks to get our kids to eat their food. Here are a few of my favorites:
The "Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper". In this classic technique, an ordinary salt and pepper shaker--found at almost any dinner table--transform into the characters of Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper from Maggie's favorite show, Blue's Clues. It seems Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper are eager to see Maggie eat her food--especially if it's a new food. She doesn't much care about our opinion, but Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper have much more clout.
The, "If You Don't Want it, I'll Eat it..." It's a good thing this works as well as it does, because bad as it sounds, I actually am often tempted to eat their food.
The "One, Two, Eat a Bite." A simple chant we started with Maggs early on. It often leads to dancing, clapping, table-thumping, and spontaneous vegetable ingestion. The rhythm is, indeed, going to get you...
The "Keg Stand." Please pardon the crass name. We developed this for Soren, because apparently a frat-party atmosphere is conducive to infantile digestion. We simply chant, "Sor-en, Sor-en, Sor-en...." again with the clapping, stomping, table-thumping, until he takes a good bite, and we explode in applause. Especially effective in fine restaurants.
Good Old Reverse Psychology. We just look at Maggs, and say something to the effect of, "Don't you dare eat that carrot!" and act positively outraged when she does. Great for kids in a rebellious or silly mood.
So I never really examined before exactly why we go to such lengths to get our kids to eat. I mean, nutrition is one thing, but for that, we could just leave out cups of cereal, animal crackers, soy nuggets and carrot sticks all day, and sit down to a nice quiet meal as a couple. It could be Laura's and my passion for diversity, and the strong sense that the kids will miss out on lots of good foods if they don't try. (Green Eggs and Ham is a bedtime standard in our house.) But it seems like a lot of effort to put in at every single meal, knowing the kids will probably just revert to Pizza, noodles and Ben & Jerry's their Freshman year of college anyway, like any other red-blooded American kids.
The deeper element I think we, and lots of other parents are working on with our kids, is what might be called "Holy Flexibility": a sense that what lies outside our realm of experience need not be frightening. In fact, the Bible says God almost always calls us from beyond our sphere of knowledge. Holiness, from the earliest stories of God's people, is by definition that which is set apart, and "other." Less like PB&J, and more like Pad Thai.
God called Abram to leave his ancestral home of Haran at age 75. God called the people of Israel out of a fixed status quo in Egypt--oppressive though it was--to a new life of freedom across the sea. Jesus called his disciples to think differently about where God lives, and whom God loves and cares about. He invited them to a New Covenant in his blood. And even after his resurrection, He kept calling believers to keep their ears open: new plans and new horizons were coming their way. From accepting Gentile believers, to processing their experience of God as Three-In-One, all the way down to the last two centuries, beginning to hear God's call for equality of all God's children, an end to slavery and imperialism, a beginning of new opportunities for women and racial integration, God keeps doing new stuff, and we don't want to miss it.
So, this evening at dinner, I plan to try my best to see in our daily cheer-leading ritual more than just vitamins, minerals, and table manner training, but also another step in our process of making disciples. Good thought, anyway. We'll have to see how it goes...
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Accepting, Celebrating, Living in God's Image
So God created humankind in his image,
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them.
Gen. 1:26
I've had a lot of pretty good evenings this summer. But last night was without a doubt the best. A nice Italian dinner, a glass or two of Chianti, and a couple of the most disgracefully awful bowling scores I've ever put my name to...all with the woman I love, to celebrate nine years of marriage. I am so thankful to God for the wild ride we've taken, and for the family we've become.
Like many couples who've spent nine years together, there's a certain comfort that sets in...you know each other's tastes, jokes and stories, you get a sense of what will make them happy, what will make them laugh and cry, what they'll find exciting or frightening. Being comfortable is a good thing sometimes.
But more than comfort, what makes me smile as I write this is the sense of being accepted and celebrated, and the joy of accepting and celebrating another, all the more now that we really know each other, and begin to discover how much more there is to know. The woman I know today, I love all the more, because of the gifted counselor she is becoming and the lives she will change for the better; the compassion she is instilling in our son; the strength and confidence she is instilling in our daughter.
The Bible says that from the very beginning humankind was meant to reflect the image of God, not just individually, but in close community. Accepting the other and being accepted. "In the image of God he created them; male and female he created them." It is not gender in itself--maleness or femaleness--that causes us to bear God's image, but rather, our capacity to love and fully commit to another. I feel that God's image really has been reflected to a fuller degree in my life as a member of a family than as an individual.
As Laura and I continue to live out our call as partners and teammates in the adventure of life in Christ, I give thanks to God. I pray that all who feel called to do so, can share this same gift of acceptance, of celebration, of commitment to another's good, as a training ground for the love to which Jesus calls us all. I pray this for those who can legally marry in their state, and for those who look forward to having that right acknowledged someday by their fellow citizens.
I am truly grateful for my best friend, my life coach, my muse, my high school crush, my wife. May God bless you and your family--whatever shape it may take--as richly as God has blessed me.
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them.
Gen. 1:26
I've had a lot of pretty good evenings this summer. But last night was without a doubt the best. A nice Italian dinner, a glass or two of Chianti, and a couple of the most disgracefully awful bowling scores I've ever put my name to...all with the woman I love, to celebrate nine years of marriage. I am so thankful to God for the wild ride we've taken, and for the family we've become.
Like many couples who've spent nine years together, there's a certain comfort that sets in...you know each other's tastes, jokes and stories, you get a sense of what will make them happy, what will make them laugh and cry, what they'll find exciting or frightening. Being comfortable is a good thing sometimes.
But more than comfort, what makes me smile as I write this is the sense of being accepted and celebrated, and the joy of accepting and celebrating another, all the more now that we really know each other, and begin to discover how much more there is to know. The woman I know today, I love all the more, because of the gifted counselor she is becoming and the lives she will change for the better; the compassion she is instilling in our son; the strength and confidence she is instilling in our daughter.
The Bible says that from the very beginning humankind was meant to reflect the image of God, not just individually, but in close community. Accepting the other and being accepted. "In the image of God he created them; male and female he created them." It is not gender in itself--maleness or femaleness--that causes us to bear God's image, but rather, our capacity to love and fully commit to another. I feel that God's image really has been reflected to a fuller degree in my life as a member of a family than as an individual.
As Laura and I continue to live out our call as partners and teammates in the adventure of life in Christ, I give thanks to God. I pray that all who feel called to do so, can share this same gift of acceptance, of celebration, of commitment to another's good, as a training ground for the love to which Jesus calls us all. I pray this for those who can legally marry in their state, and for those who look forward to having that right acknowledged someday by their fellow citizens.
I am truly grateful for my best friend, my life coach, my muse, my high school crush, my wife. May God bless you and your family--whatever shape it may take--as richly as God has blessed me.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Extremists for Love
So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love?
-Martin Luter King, Jr., from Letter from a Birmingham Jail
These days I feel like my heart has a hundred-pound weight chained to it. I've just read about yet another act of domestic terrorism near Texas A&M, in a month that has held far too many already. There are too many grieving families to pray for; too many police officers and families of fallen officers who will carry this trauma for the rest of their lives; too many communities where people will think twice about even leaving their homes; and too many hearts of perpetrators filled with so much darkness and foreboding that it's an effort to pray for them, even when they need it most.
I hate that this is the third national-news-making shooting right here in the U.S. of this month, and I'm just now feeling impassioned enough to blog about it, let alone take action, or even determine what the appropriate action might be. I hate that when these events clump together, they lose focus in the public (and in my own) mind, when they are distinct, carried out by different people in different places under different circumstances. I hate that this has become a political football for both sides over gun control. I hate that others see it as some kind of vague "sign of the times," and as an excuse to be even more fearful, paranoid and unwilling to try to understand our neighbors. I hate the sick feeling I get in my stomach when I look at a few of these situations and realize that, while it's impossible to see inside someone else's heart, some of these shooters were not just despairing or without hope. The Aurora shooter, for instance, was not just armed to the teeth, but covered in defensive gear, which seems to suggest he had not lost hope for himself: he just wanted to steal it away from others.
I hate a lot of things about these situations. But more than anything, I hate the impression, sometimes even the notion I get in my own heart, that in the midst of all this, the church is not doing anything relevant. That we're not taking any action. That we're just sitting around, praying, keeping our eyes on the skies.
You see, I am blessed to work for a church that does a lot of what the world considers really good things. We spend a lot of time, energy and money feeding the poor, clothing the naked, caring for the homeless, and welcoming the stranger. These things are uncontroversially good. Not only did Jesus actually tell his disciples to DO these things, but most people, religious or secular, would clap us on the back for doing them. They make us feel like we're actually accomplishing something, instead of expending all that effort throwing fancy words and phrases into the Sunday morning air, and handing out little crumbs of bread and sips of wine.
But here's the thing: as proud as I am of my congregation for those works of compassion, as hard as I'll fight to ensure we keep doing them, as much good as I truly believe they do and as pleased as I believe God is with them, those things can be done by just about any charitable organization, and often are. We do not have the market cornered on compassion. Target, the Rotary Club, the American Legion, and in fact every middle- and high school student in Maryland as a graduation requirement, have joined us in that effort; for which I thank God.
But what Target, the Rotary club, and your average middle school class can not do is raise people up believing they are a cherished and beloved child of the creator of the universe. They can not tell a child that nonviolence is not only a practical solution, but also the way of the savior of humankind, who has already triumphed over death. They can not tell a story that helps people make sense of their past, present, and future, in light of a God who loves us so much that no boundary--not even death--would separate him from dwelling among us. They can not give a person the kind of hope that helps us to sing hymns of praise even as we stare into the face of our own mortality.
Of course I don't mean to say that all acts of violence would come to an end if people just worshiped and prayed more, as if Christians are immune to despair, hopelessness, hatred. They wouldn't, because clearly we aren't. But what I do mean to say is that evangelism matters. The story we are called to tell, the teachings we are called to pass on, the faith and trust we are called to impart, the imperative not just to love our neighbors as ourselves but also to love God with heart, soul, mind and strength: those things matter. They do make a difference. They are not an afterthought, but the very heart of hope for almost two billion people on this planet, and they are worth sharing.
As we Christians grieve with yet another set of victims and pray for yet another community in turmoil, let's remember: our news really is good. So let's not hide it under a bushel basket anymore.
-Martin Luter King, Jr., from Letter from a Birmingham Jail
These days I feel like my heart has a hundred-pound weight chained to it. I've just read about yet another act of domestic terrorism near Texas A&M, in a month that has held far too many already. There are too many grieving families to pray for; too many police officers and families of fallen officers who will carry this trauma for the rest of their lives; too many communities where people will think twice about even leaving their homes; and too many hearts of perpetrators filled with so much darkness and foreboding that it's an effort to pray for them, even when they need it most.
I hate that this is the third national-news-making shooting right here in the U.S. of this month, and I'm just now feeling impassioned enough to blog about it, let alone take action, or even determine what the appropriate action might be. I hate that when these events clump together, they lose focus in the public (and in my own) mind, when they are distinct, carried out by different people in different places under different circumstances. I hate that this has become a political football for both sides over gun control. I hate that others see it as some kind of vague "sign of the times," and as an excuse to be even more fearful, paranoid and unwilling to try to understand our neighbors. I hate the sick feeling I get in my stomach when I look at a few of these situations and realize that, while it's impossible to see inside someone else's heart, some of these shooters were not just despairing or without hope. The Aurora shooter, for instance, was not just armed to the teeth, but covered in defensive gear, which seems to suggest he had not lost hope for himself: he just wanted to steal it away from others.
I hate a lot of things about these situations. But more than anything, I hate the impression, sometimes even the notion I get in my own heart, that in the midst of all this, the church is not doing anything relevant. That we're not taking any action. That we're just sitting around, praying, keeping our eyes on the skies.
You see, I am blessed to work for a church that does a lot of what the world considers really good things. We spend a lot of time, energy and money feeding the poor, clothing the naked, caring for the homeless, and welcoming the stranger. These things are uncontroversially good. Not only did Jesus actually tell his disciples to DO these things, but most people, religious or secular, would clap us on the back for doing them. They make us feel like we're actually accomplishing something, instead of expending all that effort throwing fancy words and phrases into the Sunday morning air, and handing out little crumbs of bread and sips of wine.
But here's the thing: as proud as I am of my congregation for those works of compassion, as hard as I'll fight to ensure we keep doing them, as much good as I truly believe they do and as pleased as I believe God is with them, those things can be done by just about any charitable organization, and often are. We do not have the market cornered on compassion. Target, the Rotary Club, the American Legion, and in fact every middle- and high school student in Maryland as a graduation requirement, have joined us in that effort; for which I thank God.
But what Target, the Rotary club, and your average middle school class can not do is raise people up believing they are a cherished and beloved child of the creator of the universe. They can not tell a child that nonviolence is not only a practical solution, but also the way of the savior of humankind, who has already triumphed over death. They can not tell a story that helps people make sense of their past, present, and future, in light of a God who loves us so much that no boundary--not even death--would separate him from dwelling among us. They can not give a person the kind of hope that helps us to sing hymns of praise even as we stare into the face of our own mortality.
Of course I don't mean to say that all acts of violence would come to an end if people just worshiped and prayed more, as if Christians are immune to despair, hopelessness, hatred. They wouldn't, because clearly we aren't. But what I do mean to say is that evangelism matters. The story we are called to tell, the teachings we are called to pass on, the faith and trust we are called to impart, the imperative not just to love our neighbors as ourselves but also to love God with heart, soul, mind and strength: those things matter. They do make a difference. They are not an afterthought, but the very heart of hope for almost two billion people on this planet, and they are worth sharing.
As we Christians grieve with yet another set of victims and pray for yet another community in turmoil, let's remember: our news really is good. So let's not hide it under a bushel basket anymore.
Friday, August 3, 2012
It's Part of Our Story
And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. Romans 5:3-5
There's just no other honest way to say it: it's been a hell of a month here at Salem. I'm surely not the only one among us who is somewhat glad to close the book on July, and pray fervently that August is nothing like it.
Granted, there have been many highs: walking through the Exodus story with our Confirmands at Mar-Lu Ridge; praising and serving God with 33,309 high school students at the ELCA Youth Gathering; worshiping with and hearing from Annie Bunio, our missionary teacher in Tanzania (although technically that was August 1st).
But the lows have been very low. This month alone, we have had to say goodbye to three faithful, beloved, active members of Salem; and mourned with at least three other member families at the untimely loss of spouses, parents, and even children. My prayers remain with the Grempler family; the Van Sant family; Alice Meier and her family; The family of and all who were close to Claire Graham; Mary Kay, Shannon and Alaina Willing and their family; and Paul and Lynda Bell, their son Robert, and his children; among so many others who are crying out to God for comfort and peace. I invite you also to join me in daily lifting up Dave, our senior pastor, as he seeks to provide spiritual leadership and a word of good news in this time of deep struggle.
I have long held the belief that times of crisis are not very good times for theological teaching. The absolute worst funeral sermons I have ever heard have been theological expositions on the finer points of the resurrection of the body, or of atonement theory from a "turn or burn" standpoint, when what everyone really needed to hear was that God is weeping with them, and that Jesus is making all things new.
But with all that said, I'd like to share with you something that might be helpful now, or might be something to come back to later: in the cross of Christ, we have a unique way of processing our suffering. The cross allows us to stop avoiding, ignoring, or trying to escape suffering, but rather to allow its presence in our story as God's children. We can stop trying to "make everything OK," but rather admit we're not OK, and hand our stories over to God.
Saint Paul wrote about how the message of the cross seemed to most people of his time to be utter foolishness. And if we really look at it, maybe it would seem that way in our own culture, too. We live among a people obsessed with "holding it together," with projecting an image of success, of unflappability, of single-handedly overcoming every kind of adversity life throws at you. Western culture idolizes the "rags to riches" stories, the stories of "self made" men and women who take the hand that they're dealt and turn it into health, wealth, fortune and fame. I'm still not sure our culture knows what to do with a God who, being all-sufficient and all-powerful, emptied himself and became a human being, and suffered death right here among us. It doesn't compute. It doesn't allow us to do what we tend to do with our suffering: to minimize it, to ignore it, to stick it in the closet and pretend it's not there.
But when we affirm that in the cross of Christ, God came to suffer with us, we are affirming two important things.
The first is that the fact that we're suffering is not "OK" with God, and it doesn't have to be "OK" with us. Jesus would not have spent his entire ministry healing the sick, feeding the hungry, casting out demons, and taking such an outspoken stand against political and religious oppression that it ultimately cost him his life, if he believed all that stuff was "God's will." He did not tell the synagogue leader that his daughter had died because "God needed another angel in his choir," and he did not justify the ailment of the paralyzed man by saying it was somehow "in God's plan." He healed them. In his every word and deed, Jesus demonstrated that God wants abundant life for us, and God weeps with us when, because of a sinful world gone haywire, that life is taken from us. God does not push buttons to make people suffer. Instead, on the cross, God takes our pain and dies with it there. Martin Luther once said, "a theologian of glory calls evil good and good evil. A theologian of the cross calls the thing what it is." We don't have to do theological gymnastics trying to justify why our pain is somehow "good" and God wants it. God doesn't. God wants to take our pain to the cross, and raise us to new life.
The second thing we affirm in the cross is that although our suffering is not "OK," it can be part of our story--even a central part. You would think that in telling the story of Jesus' life, the first Christians would kind of gloss over the story of his death. It's unpleasant. It brings back painful memories. It makes the "hero" of the story look vulnerable and weak. In telling our own life stories, we often gloss over those painful times. They rarely make it into our photo albums, or our family Christmas letters. And yet they are a part of our story. They help to form us, and make us who we are. And by finding ways of retelling our story, even the most difficult parts, we can discover how God has been present with us all along, not causing our suffering, but bearing it with us and finding ways to turn our pain into healing. To be a child of God is to be more than what has happened to us, but to let all that has happened to us be a witness to our crucified lord: the one who rose from the grave, and was recognized by his disciples not by a crown or shining lights of glory, but by his own wounds. In the same way, our wounds may stay with us, and remain a part of our story, but in the hope of Christ, we know the story itself will be one of healing.
As I said, all this may be too much to process now, and to be honest, part of why I'm posting this is to try and process it myself. But alongside my prayers for healing for so many of my sisters and brothers in Christ, I also lift up prayers that when we are in pain, we can come to the cross: that we can lift up our stories to Jesus, and see his presence with us each step of the way.
There's just no other honest way to say it: it's been a hell of a month here at Salem. I'm surely not the only one among us who is somewhat glad to close the book on July, and pray fervently that August is nothing like it.
Granted, there have been many highs: walking through the Exodus story with our Confirmands at Mar-Lu Ridge; praising and serving God with 33,309 high school students at the ELCA Youth Gathering; worshiping with and hearing from Annie Bunio, our missionary teacher in Tanzania (although technically that was August 1st).
But the lows have been very low. This month alone, we have had to say goodbye to three faithful, beloved, active members of Salem; and mourned with at least three other member families at the untimely loss of spouses, parents, and even children. My prayers remain with the Grempler family; the Van Sant family; Alice Meier and her family; The family of and all who were close to Claire Graham; Mary Kay, Shannon and Alaina Willing and their family; and Paul and Lynda Bell, their son Robert, and his children; among so many others who are crying out to God for comfort and peace. I invite you also to join me in daily lifting up Dave, our senior pastor, as he seeks to provide spiritual leadership and a word of good news in this time of deep struggle.
I have long held the belief that times of crisis are not very good times for theological teaching. The absolute worst funeral sermons I have ever heard have been theological expositions on the finer points of the resurrection of the body, or of atonement theory from a "turn or burn" standpoint, when what everyone really needed to hear was that God is weeping with them, and that Jesus is making all things new.
But with all that said, I'd like to share with you something that might be helpful now, or might be something to come back to later: in the cross of Christ, we have a unique way of processing our suffering. The cross allows us to stop avoiding, ignoring, or trying to escape suffering, but rather to allow its presence in our story as God's children. We can stop trying to "make everything OK," but rather admit we're not OK, and hand our stories over to God.
Saint Paul wrote about how the message of the cross seemed to most people of his time to be utter foolishness. And if we really look at it, maybe it would seem that way in our own culture, too. We live among a people obsessed with "holding it together," with projecting an image of success, of unflappability, of single-handedly overcoming every kind of adversity life throws at you. Western culture idolizes the "rags to riches" stories, the stories of "self made" men and women who take the hand that they're dealt and turn it into health, wealth, fortune and fame. I'm still not sure our culture knows what to do with a God who, being all-sufficient and all-powerful, emptied himself and became a human being, and suffered death right here among us. It doesn't compute. It doesn't allow us to do what we tend to do with our suffering: to minimize it, to ignore it, to stick it in the closet and pretend it's not there.
But when we affirm that in the cross of Christ, God came to suffer with us, we are affirming two important things.
The first is that the fact that we're suffering is not "OK" with God, and it doesn't have to be "OK" with us. Jesus would not have spent his entire ministry healing the sick, feeding the hungry, casting out demons, and taking such an outspoken stand against political and religious oppression that it ultimately cost him his life, if he believed all that stuff was "God's will." He did not tell the synagogue leader that his daughter had died because "God needed another angel in his choir," and he did not justify the ailment of the paralyzed man by saying it was somehow "in God's plan." He healed them. In his every word and deed, Jesus demonstrated that God wants abundant life for us, and God weeps with us when, because of a sinful world gone haywire, that life is taken from us. God does not push buttons to make people suffer. Instead, on the cross, God takes our pain and dies with it there. Martin Luther once said, "a theologian of glory calls evil good and good evil. A theologian of the cross calls the thing what it is." We don't have to do theological gymnastics trying to justify why our pain is somehow "good" and God wants it. God doesn't. God wants to take our pain to the cross, and raise us to new life.
The second thing we affirm in the cross is that although our suffering is not "OK," it can be part of our story--even a central part. You would think that in telling the story of Jesus' life, the first Christians would kind of gloss over the story of his death. It's unpleasant. It brings back painful memories. It makes the "hero" of the story look vulnerable and weak. In telling our own life stories, we often gloss over those painful times. They rarely make it into our photo albums, or our family Christmas letters. And yet they are a part of our story. They help to form us, and make us who we are. And by finding ways of retelling our story, even the most difficult parts, we can discover how God has been present with us all along, not causing our suffering, but bearing it with us and finding ways to turn our pain into healing. To be a child of God is to be more than what has happened to us, but to let all that has happened to us be a witness to our crucified lord: the one who rose from the grave, and was recognized by his disciples not by a crown or shining lights of glory, but by his own wounds. In the same way, our wounds may stay with us, and remain a part of our story, but in the hope of Christ, we know the story itself will be one of healing.
As I said, all this may be too much to process now, and to be honest, part of why I'm posting this is to try and process it myself. But alongside my prayers for healing for so many of my sisters and brothers in Christ, I also lift up prayers that when we are in pain, we can come to the cross: that we can lift up our stories to Jesus, and see his presence with us each step of the way.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Are You "Religious But Not Spiritual?"
"Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem... But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. " John 4:21, 23
I have heard and read a great deal in the last fifteen years or so about a movement sweeping the nation: "Spiritual, But Not Religious." (Or SBNR, if you want to be "hip" to the terminology). I even read a report in the May 18 Christian Century about some of the first comprehensive research into this group, which shattered some of my stereotypes, and gave me the distinct impression of what I had already suspected: this phenomenon is here to stay.
The "SBNR's" are those in our society who feel no need to identify with a particular historic faith tradition in order to commune with the Divine: they pursue the experience without the expectations, Jesus without the Church, belief without doctrine, transcendence without all the meetings and paperwork.
And you know what? I don't blame them. Really. I mean, sometimes I want to. I often want to vent my frustration at what I perceive to be my own self-centered, non-commital, complacent generation of Americans, who seem perfectly content "waitin' on the world to change." But in this case, I honestly can't. In this one, isolated and very unique case, it is not all John Mayer's fault. :-)
Instead, it is the fault of too many people of faith (myself chief among them) who slip into a whole other trap: "religious, but not spiritual." Those of us who get off on the process of it all, of making things go; the joiners, the frequent volunteers, those of us who thrive on the modest martyrdom of being the "20% of church members who do 80% of the work", those of us who just can't bring ourselves to pray properly until the budget is balanced and the banners are hanging straight and the potluck is organized and the organ's in tune and the children's sermon is both theologically sound and developmentally appropriate and the windows are either open or closed, depending on current weather conditions (and it doesn't hurt if I personally have accomplished each of those things, to be sure they're done right). Those of us who risk hyperventilation from our exasperated sighs, yet show up early every Sunday morning. And hey, that's kind of what I do for a living, so please understand the log in my eye is clearly visible to me. A big worry for me is that there are too many of us in the Church more wrapped up in how much we love to hate the church, than how much we love Jesus. We are religious-but-not-spiritual. Let's get real: Who would want to get on this ride if it's making us committed Christians so sick to our stomachs?
But there's a twist: we religious-but-not-spiritual types are not limited to church members. In fact, I'd venture to say that many in this growing number of religiously unaffiliated are religious-but-not-spiritual, too, meaning they live captive to a law: it's just not the law of organized religion. Any of us who lives in a law-based reality--a reality populated by carrots and sticks, where only I make things go, where it all depends on my own actions, where the defining precept is "If I do X, then Y will happen", but we've lost sight of why we even want"Y" to happen--is what I would call "religious but not spiritual." It is so, so common. We value rules over relationships.
You may be religious-but-not-spiritual about your job. About parenting. About your marriage. About politics. Heck, even about your favorite baseball team. And yes, when we're not careful, those of us who claim the name of "Christian" can become religious-but-not-spiritual about worship, prayer, Bible study, theology and church work. Guilty. But that's not what Jesus wants.
What Jesus wants is much simpler, and yet, much tougher to get our heads around. He envisions a day when we'll worship "in spirit and truth." We will be with God because we want to be. We will be freed of feeling entrapped by the things we once loved, including our own ideas of what church "has to be." We will connect with God--and with others--not following any preordained set of rules, but rather in the way that best reflects our love for one another; whether that's in the Cathedral, in the cafe, or at Costco. That's the vision. And you (yes, YOU, dragging your feet to church for the fourth evening this week, and YOU, who decided to study music because you love it but are currently unable to look at your violin without getting an ulcer, and YOU, who are "living the dream" of making your target income at 30, but are never, ever home to enjoy it) you can not get there by your own action. Only God can make us truly "spiritual" beings in the way that will connect us with the Divine in all things. There's no set of rules we can follow to make it happen. It's not a trophy to be won. It's forgiveness and friendship through Christ: a gift of God. Here it is. Take it.
So here's the deal: it is time to stop shouting at the folks who don't want on the ride, and start asking why it's making us so green in the face. It's time to stop doing the stuff that makes us sick, and let God build a ride that we, the world around us, and most importantly, God, can enjoy together. We have got to stop treating spirituality and religion like mortal enemies, and allow the Spirit to birth a religion that will carry us on for another 2,000 years, and beyond. Let's confuse our surrounding world a bit, by inviting God to make us "spiritual AND religious." Now that could catch on.
I have heard and read a great deal in the last fifteen years or so about a movement sweeping the nation: "Spiritual, But Not Religious." (Or SBNR, if you want to be "hip" to the terminology). I even read a report in the May 18 Christian Century about some of the first comprehensive research into this group, which shattered some of my stereotypes, and gave me the distinct impression of what I had already suspected: this phenomenon is here to stay.
The "SBNR's" are those in our society who feel no need to identify with a particular historic faith tradition in order to commune with the Divine: they pursue the experience without the expectations, Jesus without the Church, belief without doctrine, transcendence without all the meetings and paperwork.
And you know what? I don't blame them. Really. I mean, sometimes I want to. I often want to vent my frustration at what I perceive to be my own self-centered, non-commital, complacent generation of Americans, who seem perfectly content "waitin' on the world to change." But in this case, I honestly can't. In this one, isolated and very unique case, it is not all John Mayer's fault. :-)
Instead, it is the fault of too many people of faith (myself chief among them) who slip into a whole other trap: "religious, but not spiritual." Those of us who get off on the process of it all, of making things go; the joiners, the frequent volunteers, those of us who thrive on the modest martyrdom of being the "20% of church members who do 80% of the work", those of us who just can't bring ourselves to pray properly until the budget is balanced and the banners are hanging straight and the potluck is organized and the organ's in tune and the children's sermon is both theologically sound and developmentally appropriate and the windows are either open or closed, depending on current weather conditions (and it doesn't hurt if I personally have accomplished each of those things, to be sure they're done right). Those of us who risk hyperventilation from our exasperated sighs, yet show up early every Sunday morning. And hey, that's kind of what I do for a living, so please understand the log in my eye is clearly visible to me. A big worry for me is that there are too many of us in the Church more wrapped up in how much we love to hate the church, than how much we love Jesus. We are religious-but-not-spiritual. Let's get real: Who would want to get on this ride if it's making us committed Christians so sick to our stomachs?
But there's a twist: we religious-but-not-spiritual types are not limited to church members. In fact, I'd venture to say that many in this growing number of religiously unaffiliated are religious-but-not-spiritual, too, meaning they live captive to a law: it's just not the law of organized religion. Any of us who lives in a law-based reality--a reality populated by carrots and sticks, where only I make things go, where it all depends on my own actions, where the defining precept is "If I do X, then Y will happen", but we've lost sight of why we even want"Y" to happen--is what I would call "religious but not spiritual." It is so, so common. We value rules over relationships.
You may be religious-but-not-spiritual about your job. About parenting. About your marriage. About politics. Heck, even about your favorite baseball team. And yes, when we're not careful, those of us who claim the name of "Christian" can become religious-but-not-spiritual about worship, prayer, Bible study, theology and church work. Guilty. But that's not what Jesus wants.
What Jesus wants is much simpler, and yet, much tougher to get our heads around. He envisions a day when we'll worship "in spirit and truth." We will be with God because we want to be. We will be freed of feeling entrapped by the things we once loved, including our own ideas of what church "has to be." We will connect with God--and with others--not following any preordained set of rules, but rather in the way that best reflects our love for one another; whether that's in the Cathedral, in the cafe, or at Costco. That's the vision. And you (yes, YOU, dragging your feet to church for the fourth evening this week, and YOU, who decided to study music because you love it but are currently unable to look at your violin without getting an ulcer, and YOU, who are "living the dream" of making your target income at 30, but are never, ever home to enjoy it) you can not get there by your own action. Only God can make us truly "spiritual" beings in the way that will connect us with the Divine in all things. There's no set of rules we can follow to make it happen. It's not a trophy to be won. It's forgiveness and friendship through Christ: a gift of God. Here it is. Take it.
So here's the deal: it is time to stop shouting at the folks who don't want on the ride, and start asking why it's making us so green in the face. It's time to stop doing the stuff that makes us sick, and let God build a ride that we, the world around us, and most importantly, God, can enjoy together. We have got to stop treating spirituality and religion like mortal enemies, and allow the Spirit to birth a religion that will carry us on for another 2,000 years, and beyond. Let's confuse our surrounding world a bit, by inviting God to make us "spiritual AND religious." Now that could catch on.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Just one Step Ahead
"Love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor." Romans 12:10
I have to confess, I have been a little hooked on a computer game lately. It's called Sid Meier's Civilization IV. The object of the game is modest: all you have to do is build a modern civilization from scratch, and compete with others to become the greatest empire in the history of humanity. Easy enough, right? I admit, I still haven't beaten the computer, though it's not for lack of late nights playing. Laura laughs at me for getting so engrossed in the game, but if she can wile away the hours playing Words with Friends, I figure we can both have our quirks.
It's amazing how deep the human competitive streak runs, even when you're competing against a bunch of pre-set algorithms, and much more so when it's against other people. I remember an effort at Trinity Seminary called "Here I Step," where every student was given a pedometer, and various small groups competed against each other to get the most steps in a month. Chain stores will often pit franchises against one another in friendly sales competitions, igniting a fire in the belly of which you'd never know retail outlets were capable.
So as I was thinking about this--and about how, I'm a little embarrassed to admit, I've lost some sleep this week playing this silly computer game--and the genius of Paul's exhortation to Christians in Rome really showed. "Outdo one another in showing honor." If we're wired in this funny, competitive way, we may as well get some mileage for God's Reign out of it. If we're the type of people who treat everything as a contest, why not have the contest be showing honor to others, and placing others' interests above our own? Jesus' announcement that coming in first in his Reign means being last of all and servant of all has a similar flavor...although if the disciples were anything like my sisters and me when my parents first taught us about this, they must have just scrambled and threw elbows to get to the back of the line and the bottom of the dogpile, just as hard as they had been scrambling to get to first place. It could be a lot worse.
I was taking a walk with Maggie and Soren today, and it occurred to me that while we were enjoying the scenery, we might as well pick up a few pieces of trash. Before we knew it, our pockets were full and the trail looked nicer. Now, I see folks walking up and down this trail all the time--almost every time I go to work. And not to judge a book by its cover, but the folks I see mostly don't look like a bunch of Snickers-eating litterbugs. But they clearly aren't the "start/end your jog by picking up one, single solitary piece of trash" set, either, because otherwise the trail would be pristine. I think, if most folks are like me, they tend to skip over tasks they'll just have to do again later, and that nobody will be likely to know or care if you do in the first place. It takes some reflection to realize how the conscientious folks out there probably outnumber the (physical and social/spiritual) litterbugs two to one, and if we just focused on staying one step ahead of them, God's Reign would have chances to break in all over the place.
So, all my software/app designer friends, I have a brainstorm: How about "Actions with Friends", a game you could play online, based on actual actions you do. Sort of like "Horse" on the basketball court. "Hey, I just gave $20 to malaria relief. Beat that!" "Okay, I'll match the $20, plus I'll tutor a kid this week. In yo FACE!" (OK, maybe the trash talk needs work, but I think there's potential here, no?) Who will go home with the trophy? Get your brackets ready, cause it's on!
Maybe that seems a little silly, or beside the point of serving. And honestly, it kind of is. We do loving actions, not to show up our friends, but because Jesus first loved us. But even Paul made it clear that good things can come even from pretty lame motivations. Heck, maybe Jesus was on to something by calling twelve bull-headed, twenty-something dudes to follow him. Don't tell me they wouldn't have gotten a little intense on the basketball court if they were alive today! And what we got was the original Jesus movement that became the Church we have today. God uses even the sides of us we're a little embarrassed by. It makes for a pretty exciting faith walk, if you ask me.
I have to confess, I have been a little hooked on a computer game lately. It's called Sid Meier's Civilization IV. The object of the game is modest: all you have to do is build a modern civilization from scratch, and compete with others to become the greatest empire in the history of humanity. Easy enough, right? I admit, I still haven't beaten the computer, though it's not for lack of late nights playing. Laura laughs at me for getting so engrossed in the game, but if she can wile away the hours playing Words with Friends, I figure we can both have our quirks.
It's amazing how deep the human competitive streak runs, even when you're competing against a bunch of pre-set algorithms, and much more so when it's against other people. I remember an effort at Trinity Seminary called "Here I Step," where every student was given a pedometer, and various small groups competed against each other to get the most steps in a month. Chain stores will often pit franchises against one another in friendly sales competitions, igniting a fire in the belly of which you'd never know retail outlets were capable.
So as I was thinking about this--and about how, I'm a little embarrassed to admit, I've lost some sleep this week playing this silly computer game--and the genius of Paul's exhortation to Christians in Rome really showed. "Outdo one another in showing honor." If we're wired in this funny, competitive way, we may as well get some mileage for God's Reign out of it. If we're the type of people who treat everything as a contest, why not have the contest be showing honor to others, and placing others' interests above our own? Jesus' announcement that coming in first in his Reign means being last of all and servant of all has a similar flavor...although if the disciples were anything like my sisters and me when my parents first taught us about this, they must have just scrambled and threw elbows to get to the back of the line and the bottom of the dogpile, just as hard as they had been scrambling to get to first place. It could be a lot worse.
I was taking a walk with Maggie and Soren today, and it occurred to me that while we were enjoying the scenery, we might as well pick up a few pieces of trash. Before we knew it, our pockets were full and the trail looked nicer. Now, I see folks walking up and down this trail all the time--almost every time I go to work. And not to judge a book by its cover, but the folks I see mostly don't look like a bunch of Snickers-eating litterbugs. But they clearly aren't the "start/end your jog by picking up one, single solitary piece of trash" set, either, because otherwise the trail would be pristine. I think, if most folks are like me, they tend to skip over tasks they'll just have to do again later, and that nobody will be likely to know or care if you do in the first place. It takes some reflection to realize how the conscientious folks out there probably outnumber the (physical and social/spiritual) litterbugs two to one, and if we just focused on staying one step ahead of them, God's Reign would have chances to break in all over the place.
So, all my software/app designer friends, I have a brainstorm: How about "Actions with Friends", a game you could play online, based on actual actions you do. Sort of like "Horse" on the basketball court. "Hey, I just gave $20 to malaria relief. Beat that!" "Okay, I'll match the $20, plus I'll tutor a kid this week. In yo FACE!" (OK, maybe the trash talk needs work, but I think there's potential here, no?) Who will go home with the trophy? Get your brackets ready, cause it's on!
Maybe that seems a little silly, or beside the point of serving. And honestly, it kind of is. We do loving actions, not to show up our friends, but because Jesus first loved us. But even Paul made it clear that good things can come even from pretty lame motivations. Heck, maybe Jesus was on to something by calling twelve bull-headed, twenty-something dudes to follow him. Don't tell me they wouldn't have gotten a little intense on the basketball court if they were alive today! And what we got was the original Jesus movement that became the Church we have today. God uses even the sides of us we're a little embarrassed by. It makes for a pretty exciting faith walk, if you ask me.
Friday, May 4, 2012
It’s almost Mothers’ Day. I’m rejoicing today to be married to such a wonderful, loving Mama for my kids, with whom I’m so proud to be teamed up. I’m thanking God for my own mother, for her mother and my Dad’s mother, and for all the mothers who formed them. I’m lifting up praises for all my “mothers” in Christ, from Sunday School teachers to youth leaders, to faithful women who have gone before, whose testimony has been fuel for my faith.
But what’s driving me to drink this week is how our society devalues mothers, by reducing motherhood to a biological event to be debated, rather than a spiritual relationship to be nurtured.
Our neighbors in Virginia have recently become a flashpoint of this national debate.
God loves mothers. In fact, in several places the Bible says God is like our Mother. But I think the conversation about mothering—and parenting, in general—has gotten derailed by the conversation about what degree of choice women should have about actually becoming mothers.
I hear Biblical proof-texts from both sides of the abortion debate (an overwhelming majority from the “pro-life” side, but there are a few brave souls who dare contradict them on the basis of scripture). I don’t want anyone to take away from this post that there is no theological merit to having this discussion, or no theological principles (not single Bible verses, but general principles arising from the heart of the Bible, not its pinky toe!) on which to have a faithful discussion. I think there is a faithful discussion to be had, and we are going to have to keep plugging away at it, engaging those with whom we disagree, striving with all our might not to break the eighth commandment by calling into question others’ motives and faithfulness, or the fifth by seeking to “destroy” one another with words...or worse.
But what about that fourth commandment? You know…”Honor your father and mother”? It’s much less provocative and much less likely to grab headlines. But where is the energy and passion for honoring good moms, and seeking to form more of them? Where’s the outcry for raising up daughters who will make good mothers, and who will make good, faithful, and loving choices for their children, both before AND after they are born? Where is the army of lawyers and lobbyists devoted not to the debate about a woman’s choice to give birth, but to giving her the choice to raise children who will actually live an abundant life, have enough food on the table, be likely to graduate high school, be unlikely to get kidnapped into the drug culture, or to get asthma from living in a polluted neighborhood? Where are the business owners who are so devoted to the sanctity of life, that they will allow for fair health benefits, flexible schedules, reasonable maternity (and paternity) leave, and a work environment that supports and works with working moms and dads?
The Bible has an awful lot to say about the sanctity of life, and about personal responsibility, and we do well to pay attention to that. But just as loud and clear rings the voice of societal responsibility for those in need of aid. I think we can reasonably make a connection between the countless Old Testament calls to “care for the widow and the orphan”, and God’s call for us today: that if we’re going to go to bat for the unborn (and why wouldn't we?), that we also go to bat for the moms (and dads) who will bring them into the world, often under tremendously difficult circumstances.
Let’s honor moms this year, and every year, not just with flowers, chocolates and breakfast in bed (although all three are a good idea!) but by making this world a little bit more supportive of a place to be a mom.
But what’s driving me to drink this week is how our society devalues mothers, by reducing motherhood to a biological event to be debated, rather than a spiritual relationship to be nurtured.
Our neighbors in Virginia have recently become a flashpoint of this national debate.
God loves mothers. In fact, in several places the Bible says God is like our Mother. But I think the conversation about mothering—and parenting, in general—has gotten derailed by the conversation about what degree of choice women should have about actually becoming mothers.
I hear Biblical proof-texts from both sides of the abortion debate (an overwhelming majority from the “pro-life” side, but there are a few brave souls who dare contradict them on the basis of scripture). I don’t want anyone to take away from this post that there is no theological merit to having this discussion, or no theological principles (not single Bible verses, but general principles arising from the heart of the Bible, not its pinky toe!) on which to have a faithful discussion. I think there is a faithful discussion to be had, and we are going to have to keep plugging away at it, engaging those with whom we disagree, striving with all our might not to break the eighth commandment by calling into question others’ motives and faithfulness, or the fifth by seeking to “destroy” one another with words...or worse.
But what about that fourth commandment? You know…”Honor your father and mother”? It’s much less provocative and much less likely to grab headlines. But where is the energy and passion for honoring good moms, and seeking to form more of them? Where’s the outcry for raising up daughters who will make good mothers, and who will make good, faithful, and loving choices for their children, both before AND after they are born? Where is the army of lawyers and lobbyists devoted not to the debate about a woman’s choice to give birth, but to giving her the choice to raise children who will actually live an abundant life, have enough food on the table, be likely to graduate high school, be unlikely to get kidnapped into the drug culture, or to get asthma from living in a polluted neighborhood? Where are the business owners who are so devoted to the sanctity of life, that they will allow for fair health benefits, flexible schedules, reasonable maternity (and paternity) leave, and a work environment that supports and works with working moms and dads?
The Bible has an awful lot to say about the sanctity of life, and about personal responsibility, and we do well to pay attention to that. But just as loud and clear rings the voice of societal responsibility for those in need of aid. I think we can reasonably make a connection between the countless Old Testament calls to “care for the widow and the orphan”, and God’s call for us today: that if we’re going to go to bat for the unborn (and why wouldn't we?), that we also go to bat for the moms (and dads) who will bring them into the world, often under tremendously difficult circumstances.
Let’s honor moms this year, and every year, not just with flowers, chocolates and breakfast in bed (although all three are a good idea!) but by making this world a little bit more supportive of a place to be a mom.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
A Permanent Resident
Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure. 1 John 3:2-3
I had a wonderful morning today. Maggie and I, along with several from Salem and other community groups, took part in a stream clean-up. Maggs, ever the fashion-plate, donned her brand new pink rain boots, her mom's sun hat, and a pair of gloves that were the smallest size they had, yet were still comically big. She served as the "pointer": looking for pieces of trash along the stream bed, which we would then scramble down the rocks at our own peril to get. I wouldn't have had it any other way, of course.
We discovered a number of treasures, mostly alcohol and tobacco-related, although I do recall seeing several tires, a few rims, a lawn chair, a vintage 1970's blue shag rug that gave me fond memories of my grandparents' home, and a rusted-out piece of metal that I can only assume was once part of a muffler. Gotta be careful not to bottom out driving through creeks, you know.
I find it interesting that Earth Day nearly always falls squarely within the Easter season, and yet for whatever reason, I haven't read much of anything pointing out the rather obvious connection. See, one of the most misunderstood pieces of Christian tradition--one that even many Christians don't know about--is that resurrection is for everybody. The hope we hang on to is not a disembodied hope--that one day we'll all be ghosts, playing harps on clouds in some alternate dimension--but a deeply embodied one. We will once again smell what coffee smells like, see sunlight through spring leaves, taste fresh-baked bread, hold the warm hands of our real-live loved ones, some of whom have already gone from our sight. We'll have bodies. Jesus is risen, and we shall arise. Because he lives, we shall live.
Which, of course, means that we'll live on a real-live planet. Revelation says God will make "a new heaven and a new earth." Guess where we'll live? Yep. On a planet. with rivers and streams and trees and rocks and lakes and plants and fungus and animals and microbes and mosquitoes--wait, maybe not mosquitoes. I'll have to check back on that. But you get the idea.
It's often the creed of environmentalists to say, "let's keep this earth healthy for our grandkids to live in." I fully agree. Right on. BUT, see, if you don't have grandkids, or you don't see them often, maybe that's not an effective motivator. How about this: "Attention Christians: God is eventually going to bring us back here. So...I wonder what kind of creek you'd like to happen upon on your morning jog in a hundred thousand years or so?"
Some food for thought this Easter season. And it didn't even come in a pre-wrapped package.
A couple other Easter quotes I've been meditating on:
"Death is the last weapon of the tyrant, and the point of resurrection, despite much misunderstanding, is that death has been defeated. Resurrection is not the redescription of death; it is its overthrow and, with that, the overthrow of those whose power depends on it.
N.T. Wright, from Surprised by Hope
John Updike's "Seven Stanzas at Easter"
Wendell Berry's, "Manifesto:
The Mad Farmer Liberation Front"
Friday, April 20, 2012
"Winning"
"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
1 Corinthians 15:55-57
Well, I can't avoid it. I'm an American male born in the 1980s. I liked Transformers, Voltron, Thundercats, Indiana Jones, the A-Team, and just about any other TV program that involved either beating up bad guys or explosions--preferably both. I waged more than one pitched battle with squirt guns. I played Ninja Turtles with my friends, which did involve some hitting each other with sticks. I grew up thinking Luke Skywalker blowing up the Death Star was just about the crowning achievement of cinema for all time. Even as a young adult who by that point was a committed pacifist,I afforded nearly equal status to Neo's triumphal entry into the secure office building in the first Matrix film.This is where I'm coming from.
But I'm also a Christian--you know, one of those weird people who believe you should love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you, bless those who curse you, meet violence with nonviolence, vengeance with forgiveness, hate with love. I believe we are called to "stand our ground" in a completely different and antithetical way to the way our culture--and apparently, Florida law--would have us do.
And then, we have Easter. From the New Testament itself, to theological interpretations through the ages, to hymnody, even to the way we celebrate--with loud blasting trumpets and marching processions--the language and imagery of military victory is thick and heavy. I saw a very relevant blog post on this topic, pointed out by a good friend. The language is there, staring us in the face. Even in the "peaceful" New Testament, one dominant metaphor for the cross and resurrection is one of military victory. Even the Greek word euangelion, often translated as "Gospel" or "Good News," was at first a military term for the announcement of a favorable result in battle: that "our team won."
And as you go on in Christian history, and begin to study other interpretations of the cross--most notably the satisfaction theory of atonement--the idea of the cross as a victory over death and evil actually starts to look pretty good. I'd much rather have a Jesus who is one with God, prevailing over death, than a Jesus who is at cross purposes with an angry God, prevailing over God's better judgment!
So there's this tension. The metaphor--Let me repeat this a couple of times to be clear, the metaphor, the metaphor, the metaphor--of military victory, not over any human army or ruler, but over sin and death, is a huge one in the New Testament, and throughout church history. But at the same time, the very way that victory was won--meeting the worst brutality human beings can offer with courage, love, forgiveness, and a stubborn refusal to play the game by death's violent rules--is what sets the cross apart from any other victory.
I think there are three ways to resolve this tension. First, just barrel through it. Claim these military metaphors as our own, and hope for the best. Buy our kids the "full armor of God" play set, dress them up in fatigues as "metaphorical" soldiers for Christ, encourage their addiction to violent video games, TV and movies without offering any outlet for reflection on how to resolve conflicts in real life, and maybe even train them in some combat and small arms fire, on the off chance they get "left behind" in the rapture and have to face off with all manner of demons and antichrists and whatnot. I can't even begin to describe the problems with this approach, but I will tell you this: It's been tried. It didn't work.
Second, we can censor the heck out of ourselves. We can sick special teams of well-meaning theologians on every hymn, every Bible verse, every sermon historic or contemporary, every anthem, every piece of liturgy that might find its way to the ears of the faithful. We can purge, we can spin, we can convince ourselves that this was simply never the way that Christians talked or thought or believed, because it can't be, considering they were so very enlightened and politically and socially advanced, just like us modern-day Christians *rolls eyes*. I guess this could work, provided that mainline Christians continue to pursue our current trend of almost never reading our Bibles at home, or talking about our faith with people outside our congregations or even inside them. If we did that, censorship would work fine.
The third option, which my rhetorical sensibilities drew me to put last, is the one I'd recommend. Let's open up some of the riches of the Bible and the Christian tradition, and recognize that military victory is just one color in a whole rainbow of metaphor used by the first Christians to try to understand what happened around Jesus' death. A few of my favorites are of a hen gathering her brood, one grain of wheat bearing a great harvest, and a mother giving birth to her child. These, too, are in the New Testament. These, too, are very effective conceptual tools to explore what happened on the cross: which, of course, is and will ultimately remain a mystery. So rather than taking one color paint out of our palette, why not challenge ourselves to paint with all the colors we've been given, and maybe even use our God-given imaginations to come up with contemporary images that might work?
I think I'm just going to have to live with the tension of being a red-blooded American sci-fi/fantasy action fan, who confesses as my Lord one who, rather than lift a sword or even a hand, was crucified to defeat evil and death. I think I can hold in my head and heart the real-live action heroes of our faith, who went to their deaths in Jesus' name, asking forgiveness for those who killed them, while still watching the ridiculous movie-poster heroes that keep us eating popcorn and nachos. The trick is to talk about it, reflect on it together, especially with our kids, and to always hold before our eyes the cross: the sign of what "winning" really looks like.
1 Corinthians 15:55-57
Well, I can't avoid it. I'm an American male born in the 1980s. I liked Transformers, Voltron, Thundercats, Indiana Jones, the A-Team, and just about any other TV program that involved either beating up bad guys or explosions--preferably both. I waged more than one pitched battle with squirt guns. I played Ninja Turtles with my friends, which did involve some hitting each other with sticks. I grew up thinking Luke Skywalker blowing up the Death Star was just about the crowning achievement of cinema for all time. Even as a young adult who by that point was a committed pacifist,I afforded nearly equal status to Neo's triumphal entry into the secure office building in the first Matrix film.This is where I'm coming from.
But I'm also a Christian--you know, one of those weird people who believe you should love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you, bless those who curse you, meet violence with nonviolence, vengeance with forgiveness, hate with love. I believe we are called to "stand our ground" in a completely different and antithetical way to the way our culture--and apparently, Florida law--would have us do.
And then, we have Easter. From the New Testament itself, to theological interpretations through the ages, to hymnody, even to the way we celebrate--with loud blasting trumpets and marching processions--the language and imagery of military victory is thick and heavy. I saw a very relevant blog post on this topic, pointed out by a good friend. The language is there, staring us in the face. Even in the "peaceful" New Testament, one dominant metaphor for the cross and resurrection is one of military victory. Even the Greek word euangelion, often translated as "Gospel" or "Good News," was at first a military term for the announcement of a favorable result in battle: that "our team won."
And as you go on in Christian history, and begin to study other interpretations of the cross--most notably the satisfaction theory of atonement--the idea of the cross as a victory over death and evil actually starts to look pretty good. I'd much rather have a Jesus who is one with God, prevailing over death, than a Jesus who is at cross purposes with an angry God, prevailing over God's better judgment!
So there's this tension. The metaphor--Let me repeat this a couple of times to be clear, the metaphor, the metaphor, the metaphor--of military victory, not over any human army or ruler, but over sin and death, is a huge one in the New Testament, and throughout church history. But at the same time, the very way that victory was won--meeting the worst brutality human beings can offer with courage, love, forgiveness, and a stubborn refusal to play the game by death's violent rules--is what sets the cross apart from any other victory.
I think there are three ways to resolve this tension. First, just barrel through it. Claim these military metaphors as our own, and hope for the best. Buy our kids the "full armor of God" play set, dress them up in fatigues as "metaphorical" soldiers for Christ, encourage their addiction to violent video games, TV and movies without offering any outlet for reflection on how to resolve conflicts in real life, and maybe even train them in some combat and small arms fire, on the off chance they get "left behind" in the rapture and have to face off with all manner of demons and antichrists and whatnot. I can't even begin to describe the problems with this approach, but I will tell you this: It's been tried. It didn't work.
Second, we can censor the heck out of ourselves. We can sick special teams of well-meaning theologians on every hymn, every Bible verse, every sermon historic or contemporary, every anthem, every piece of liturgy that might find its way to the ears of the faithful. We can purge, we can spin, we can convince ourselves that this was simply never the way that Christians talked or thought or believed, because it can't be, considering they were so very enlightened and politically and socially advanced, just like us modern-day Christians *rolls eyes*. I guess this could work, provided that mainline Christians continue to pursue our current trend of almost never reading our Bibles at home, or talking about our faith with people outside our congregations or even inside them. If we did that, censorship would work fine.
The third option, which my rhetorical sensibilities drew me to put last, is the one I'd recommend. Let's open up some of the riches of the Bible and the Christian tradition, and recognize that military victory is just one color in a whole rainbow of metaphor used by the first Christians to try to understand what happened around Jesus' death. A few of my favorites are of a hen gathering her brood, one grain of wheat bearing a great harvest, and a mother giving birth to her child. These, too, are in the New Testament. These, too, are very effective conceptual tools to explore what happened on the cross: which, of course, is and will ultimately remain a mystery. So rather than taking one color paint out of our palette, why not challenge ourselves to paint with all the colors we've been given, and maybe even use our God-given imaginations to come up with contemporary images that might work?
I think I'm just going to have to live with the tension of being a red-blooded American sci-fi/fantasy action fan, who confesses as my Lord one who, rather than lift a sword or even a hand, was crucified to defeat evil and death. I think I can hold in my head and heart the real-live action heroes of our faith, who went to their deaths in Jesus' name, asking forgiveness for those who killed them, while still watching the ridiculous movie-poster heroes that keep us eating popcorn and nachos. The trick is to talk about it, reflect on it together, especially with our kids, and to always hold before our eyes the cross: the sign of what "winning" really looks like.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
What Are We Working For?
Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. For six days you shall labour and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns.
Exodus 20:8-10
Tuesday morning I was in no kind of mood for reflection.
You see, lately, Maggie's been asserting herself as the lovely, strong, independent young woman she's sure to become, which unfortunately at age 3 1/2, translates to the occasional raging tantrum. And Soren, God bless his little heart, is his usual laid-back 9-month-old self, which translates into a feast on the gourmet cuisine of just about anything in reach, without regard to edibility. In short, they both seem to need Laura's and my undivided attention these days, which is a problem, because our attention is kind of all over the place these days.
It bears mention that I did have a wonderful day off on Monday watching the kids. Got three loads of laundry done, worked out, took them grocery shopping, even caught an episode or two of Star Trek: TNG. The kids were great, and I was even less tempted than usual to bribe them with TV shows in the interest of a peaceful house. They really were on their best behavior. But still, I was a little exhausted by 4pm when Laura got home.
Which brings me to Tuesday morning. I awoke, refreshed and ready to work, only to remember that today was Laura's day to help out at Maggie's preschool, which meant it was once again "Take your son to the office day" for me. Plus, Salem was hosting a community environmental forum and inviting some fairly high-profile people in to give presentations on faith-based environmental advocacy. Soren behaved himself admirably through the whole event, but I admit I still went into it with a twinge of guilt that I wasn't able to give my full, undivided attention to the topic at hand.
But as one of our featured speakers, Rabbi Nina Beth Cardin, a leader in interfaith environmental efforts here in Maryland, began to address the gathering, God began to do something in my spirit. Rabbi Cardin told us that for many years, she had believed God gave us the Sabbath for the purpose of the rest of the week: that we take a day to "recharge" in order to help us have energy to work and be productive the other six days. But she went on to say she no longer believes this. Instead, Rabbi Cardin suggested that maybe we work the other six days, for the purpose of the Sabbath day: that holy day, where God takes the reins, and we simply enjoy being together with God and one another in this abundant world. Rather than taking a Sabbath in order to work, what if we worked in order to be ready for a Sabbath?
I was blown away. You see, as a pastor I am both blessed and cursed to have a job I'm good at, and that I believe in with every fiber of my being. I make my living doing something that (shhh! don't tell anyone at my church, but...) I would probably try and find a way to do even if nobody paid me! In the current job market, where too many guys and gals my age are trading time for money, doing whatever's around just to pay the bills, I never, ever want to take for granted what a joy this is.
But at the same time, I may have been getting things upside down. In my own fumbling attempts at Sabbath-keeping (which the Jews, including Jesus himself, have always been WAY better at than us stalwart Protestant types!) I have been putting the cart before the horse. I worry that when I'm not thinking about it, I've occasionally been taking the bare minimum amount of rest--really enjoying family time, date nights with my beautiful wife, trips to the park with kids, taking personal time with God--but with the thought in the back of my head that all this will ultimately make me a more effective pastor. And I believe it will. But that's not why I should be doing it. Instead, the work I do--even the work I truly believe in--should be done in service to Sabbath. In order to make me all the more ready for rest; ready for family; ready for time with God and with God's people; ready for life lived as an authentic human being.
I had things so backwards that it was almost laughable! Here I was, at my job, racked with guilt about somehow giving less than 110%, while the very reason I should be getting up each morning and driving to work, was literally strapped to my chest in a Baby Bjorn!
Does anyone you know, anyone at all, tell you they look forward to being in God's Kingdom because Jesus runs such awesome committee meetings? Or because the Father will have some killer laundry for us to do? Or because the Holy Spirit will help us put together the very best Powerpoint presentations and lesson plans and prospectuses we've ever seen? I sincerely hope not. What I've heard more often than anything, is that God's Kingdom will be full of people we love. People we miss. People we never got to know. And the Persons that know us and love us better than we'll ever know or love ourselves: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Sabbath-keeping is an intentional preview of that end-time Sabbath, when all the world will rest from its labors. Every kind of work we do, should be done in service to that holy time, not in spite of it. So here's my question for you:
What are you working for?
Exodus 20:8-10
Tuesday morning I was in no kind of mood for reflection.
You see, lately, Maggie's been asserting herself as the lovely, strong, independent young woman she's sure to become, which unfortunately at age 3 1/2, translates to the occasional raging tantrum. And Soren, God bless his little heart, is his usual laid-back 9-month-old self, which translates into a feast on the gourmet cuisine of just about anything in reach, without regard to edibility. In short, they both seem to need Laura's and my undivided attention these days, which is a problem, because our attention is kind of all over the place these days.
It bears mention that I did have a wonderful day off on Monday watching the kids. Got three loads of laundry done, worked out, took them grocery shopping, even caught an episode or two of Star Trek: TNG. The kids were great, and I was even less tempted than usual to bribe them with TV shows in the interest of a peaceful house. They really were on their best behavior. But still, I was a little exhausted by 4pm when Laura got home.
Which brings me to Tuesday morning. I awoke, refreshed and ready to work, only to remember that today was Laura's day to help out at Maggie's preschool, which meant it was once again "Take your son to the office day" for me. Plus, Salem was hosting a community environmental forum and inviting some fairly high-profile people in to give presentations on faith-based environmental advocacy. Soren behaved himself admirably through the whole event, but I admit I still went into it with a twinge of guilt that I wasn't able to give my full, undivided attention to the topic at hand.
But as one of our featured speakers, Rabbi Nina Beth Cardin, a leader in interfaith environmental efforts here in Maryland, began to address the gathering, God began to do something in my spirit. Rabbi Cardin told us that for many years, she had believed God gave us the Sabbath for the purpose of the rest of the week: that we take a day to "recharge" in order to help us have energy to work and be productive the other six days. But she went on to say she no longer believes this. Instead, Rabbi Cardin suggested that maybe we work the other six days, for the purpose of the Sabbath day: that holy day, where God takes the reins, and we simply enjoy being together with God and one another in this abundant world. Rather than taking a Sabbath in order to work, what if we worked in order to be ready for a Sabbath?
I was blown away. You see, as a pastor I am both blessed and cursed to have a job I'm good at, and that I believe in with every fiber of my being. I make my living doing something that (shhh! don't tell anyone at my church, but...) I would probably try and find a way to do even if nobody paid me! In the current job market, where too many guys and gals my age are trading time for money, doing whatever's around just to pay the bills, I never, ever want to take for granted what a joy this is.
But at the same time, I may have been getting things upside down. In my own fumbling attempts at Sabbath-keeping (which the Jews, including Jesus himself, have always been WAY better at than us stalwart Protestant types!) I have been putting the cart before the horse. I worry that when I'm not thinking about it, I've occasionally been taking the bare minimum amount of rest--really enjoying family time, date nights with my beautiful wife, trips to the park with kids, taking personal time with God--but with the thought in the back of my head that all this will ultimately make me a more effective pastor. And I believe it will. But that's not why I should be doing it. Instead, the work I do--even the work I truly believe in--should be done in service to Sabbath. In order to make me all the more ready for rest; ready for family; ready for time with God and with God's people; ready for life lived as an authentic human being.
I had things so backwards that it was almost laughable! Here I was, at my job, racked with guilt about somehow giving less than 110%, while the very reason I should be getting up each morning and driving to work, was literally strapped to my chest in a Baby Bjorn!
Does anyone you know, anyone at all, tell you they look forward to being in God's Kingdom because Jesus runs such awesome committee meetings? Or because the Father will have some killer laundry for us to do? Or because the Holy Spirit will help us put together the very best Powerpoint presentations and lesson plans and prospectuses we've ever seen? I sincerely hope not. What I've heard more often than anything, is that God's Kingdom will be full of people we love. People we miss. People we never got to know. And the Persons that know us and love us better than we'll ever know or love ourselves: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Sabbath-keeping is an intentional preview of that end-time Sabbath, when all the world will rest from its labors. Every kind of work we do, should be done in service to that holy time, not in spite of it. So here's my question for you:
What are you working for?
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Bearing Fruit
"Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing." John 15:4-5
What's driving me to drink is lowered expectations. I read a book this past year called Almost Christian: What the Faith of Our Teenagers is Telling the American Church. It's a book based on the National Study of Youth and Religion, the most recent statistical study of what teens in America actually believe. The good news is, most teens in America actually do have faith of some kind. The bad news is, the kind of faith many teens have (including teens who are very active in Christian congregations), is not what you could properly call Christianity. Rather, it's what the study's authors call, "Moralistic Therapeutic Deism." Here are some of its basic tenets:
1.A God exists who created and orders the world and watches over life on earth.
2. God wants people to be good, nice and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and most other world religions.
3. The central goal of life is to be happy and feel good about oneself.
4. God is not involved in my life except when I need to resolve a problem.
5. Good people go to heaven when they die.
Moralistic Therapeutic Deism, although it is believed by many who call themselves Christian, is not centered in the cross of Jesus. It is apparently not in the least concerned, or even aware of, human sinfulness. But most disturbing to me, it expects exactly zero of its practitioners. It casts God as the one who turns on the Go-cart track, announces over the P.A., "Have fun kids. Be nice. Don't get hurt." then proceeds to go out for a sandwich--perhaps ducking in now and then if ever someone gets into a serious jam. A God who stays out of our business and out of our life.
What's worse, the study finds that it's not that teens are "not getting the message" through the youth programming provided by Christian congregations across the country. They're getting the message loud and clear. From adults.
God's very first commandment to humankind, fresh from the clay that God had formed in God's own image, was,"Be fruitful and multiply." Now bear with me a minute, because I fully realize this may seem like a REALLY bad commandment to be teaching our kids about. :-) What many students of Genesis have said about this passage is that God is asking humankind to do more than simply "reproduce." God is asking humanity to tend the garden: to form a relationship with the creation, and to be God's stewards, using our creativity and imagination--God's image within us--to make a good creation an even more lively and wondrous place. This was bearing fruit in the Garden.
In the River Jordan, John the Baptist again called Israel to "bear fruit worthy of repentance." To stop assuming that ancestral connections are all that it takes to be in right relationship with God. To stop thinking of ourselves as "customers" in God's general store of blessings: consumers of a religious product, free to wander in and out when we please, but expecting to be first in line at the counter when a crisis hits and we need some grace.
Discipleship of Jesus involves bearing fruit. In fact, bearing fruit is a natural result of following Jesus. You can't not do it. It's just what happens when you're following Jesus. It's NOT what saves us: Jesus has already done that on the cross. It's just what happens when we accept that he has accepted us.
I'm happy to tell you that, by the Spirit's power, Delaware and Maryland Youth bore a lot of fruit at the Roadtrip retreat in Ocean City, Maryland last month. Here's what it looked like:
*Over three hundred kids and dozens of adult volunteers, worshiping together in the name of the Triune God.
*Dozens of school kits being put together for Lutheran World Relief, letters written to homebound church members, and quilt squares cut for LWR quilts.
*Small Groups of kids from across two states, dealing with real questions of faith, and learning to tell their own faith stories.
*Youth, standing before hundreds of their brothers and sisters in Christ, testifying to what God has done for them.
*A whole lot of good clean fun!
And in all of this--from worship, to service, to learning to testifying--it was fellow students who were taking the lead, through the LYO (Lutheran Youth Organization). My partner in leading a small group was in 12th grade. We were greeted as soon as we registered by a team of kids whose job it was to answer questions and make people feel welcome. Every service project was chosen and orchestrated by the kids. And closing worship was planned and lead by the kids.
Maybe this kind of "fruit-bearing" is the exception to the rule. But maybe it's catching on. And maybe we, as adults in the faith, can fan the flames, by asking ourselves the question: "How am I bearing fruit?"
Friday, January 20, 2012
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)