I was trying to think of an appropriate response to Rick Perry's most recent commercial, and consequently wrote this facebook status a couple hours ago. It's getting a lot of traction over there, so I thought I might as well share it with the rest of the world on here:
I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a Christian, but you don't need to be in the pew every Sunday to know there's something wrong with the body of Christ when the good news of God's overwhelming love and desire to be in relationship with us is leveraged, not to liberate and reconcile the world, but to stir up fear and resentment in pursuit of political gain.
Happy Holidays everyone! Some day when I'm not swamped with homework I will get back to blogging. :)
Showing posts with label body of Christ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label body of Christ. Show all posts
Friday, December 9, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
We Carry Each Other
At 100 years young, Katherine is the oldest member of our congregation. Despite dealing with some health issues of her own the past week, she managed to knit a newborn cap for our newest and youngest member, the wee 11 day old Naomi, who is feistily hanging on in the NICU, having arrived 11 weeks early.
This morning's offering included the little knit cap, sealed in a baggie so it didn't pick up a bunch of contagion that could compromise little Naomi's still developing immune system. When it was time for the offering prayer, Jen came and stood in the midst of us and we all placed a hand on either the cap or our neighbor's shoulder, and we blessed the cap, giving thanks for both Katherine and Naomi, and praying for health and wholeness for the both of them. . .it was a powerful moment.
Have I mentioned lately how much I love my church?
This morning's offering included the little knit cap, sealed in a baggie so it didn't pick up a bunch of contagion that could compromise little Naomi's still developing immune system. When it was time for the offering prayer, Jen came and stood in the midst of us and we all placed a hand on either the cap or our neighbor's shoulder, and we blessed the cap, giving thanks for both Katherine and Naomi, and praying for health and wholeness for the both of them. . .it was a powerful moment.
Have I mentioned lately how much I love my church?
Monday, August 22, 2011
Arguments I Don't Hear Much Part 2
The gospel lesson this morning reminded me that I had not yet written this post. To refresh your brains, part 1 was the political argument. This part is the biblical/religious argument.
So, one of the major critiques often launched against "liberal" positions on homosexuality within the church is that those who hold such opinions are antinomian (aka anti-law). Because Leviticus and Romans and yadda yadda yadda all clearly state this is wrong, so if you want to say it's not wrong you clearly just want to torch the Bible and dance on its grave. Or (less dramatically, and perhaps more nerve-wracking) you're setting up your own arbitrary criteria for what we follow and what we don't, and (this is the real concern) where will it stop? If you're wiling to "pitch" some parts of the Bible, whats to stop you from pitching the whole thing?
This is a very "brick wall" mentality regarding the Bible - every "brick" (verse) has equal size, weight, and value, and is rock solid, not flexible at all - and the fear is if you punch out enough bricks you compromise the integrity and stability of the whole structure.
A lot of people have this understanding of the Bible. But it's not the only way to think about it. A contrasting image is that of a trampoline, and thinking of the verses as the springs that hold it together. You can take a few springs out of a trampoline and it will still function, but more importantly, springs have give, they are flexible.
(we interrupt this post to give props to Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis, because that's who I'm stealing these images from - if you haven't read this book yet, you should)
Now before anybody gets all "You're pulling springs out of the trampoline? That's antinomian!" on me, please let me clarify that I'm NOT pulling springs out of the trampoline, and I'm not advocating that anybody else should either. I AM advocating that we should all be thinking of Bible verses as more like springs and less like bricks.
And I advocate that in part because that's kind of what we'd been doing for centuries. The law has never been so black and white, so cut and dried, as some folks like to make it out to be. You'd think something like "Thou shalt not steal" would be, but there are volumes of rabbinic debates and commentary as to when this law is bound and when this law is loosed.
Let me explain: let's say you are walking along and you spot a $100 bill on the ground. If you pick it up, is that stealing? It depends, say the rabbis. If you just pick it up and put it in your pocket without making any effort to look around and seek out who may have dropped it, then the law is bound, and yes, you are stealing from your neighbor. But if you make every good faith effort to return the money to its rightful owner and cannot find them no matter how hard you try, then the law is loosed, you may keep the money and you are not breaking the commandment.
This is a broad generalization of the kinds of reflection and rabbinic debate that would happen all the time. In reality it would go much deeper and in greater detail, but hopefully with this small example you get the picture.
Jesus himself was steeped in this tradition. In fact, we see him engaging in it in Matthew 12 when the Pharisees come after him and the disciples for plucking grain (aka doing work) on the Sabbath, a clear violation of their cut and dried understanding of the third commandment, to remember the Sabbath and keep it holy. Jesus counters with arguments as to why the law in this case should be loosed, and like a good case lawyer, he even cites historical precedent (King David, no less).
(we interrupt this post once again to give props to Mark Allan Powell's How Lutherans Interpret the Bible, because that's who I'm stealing these examples from - if you haven't yet watched this DVD series, you should)
Ok, so what does all this have to do with arguments you don't hear much and the gospel from this morning?
Namely this: in this morning's gospel, Jesus gives the church the power to bind and to loose. My Catholic brothers and sisters interpret this passage as giving only Peter and Peter's successors (aka the Popes) this authority, but we Protestants interpret it more broadly as the body of Christ, the church, having this power.
And we've used it. Repeatedly. I love ham and pork and bacon, others love shrimp and lobster, and we all eat these things freely because collectively the body of Christ decided to loose the Levitical kosher laws. The laws (which are pretty clear cut) are still sitting there in the Bible, no one has thrown those springs out, no one is "against" them, but we have decided they've got give and they are no longer binding upon the community. Similarly, I am a woman who is ordained and regularly speaks in worship, because the part of the body of Christ that is the ELCA collectively decided to loose the "law" in the Pauline letters that forbids women from speaking in church (though I am cognizant that several other members of the body have declared this law is still bound).
To me, it makes logical sense to extend this power to bind and to loose the law to the passages forbidding homosexuality. And to me, that is essentially what certain members of the body (the ELCA among them) have done, declared collectively (if rather contentiously) that these laws are indeed loosed. They are still sitting there, right next to the kosher laws in some instances, we have not thrown them out, but we have decided they are no longer binding.
I don't think that's being antinomian. I also don't think it's such a bad argument. My question is: why do I feel like I'm the only one I ever hear making it? In all the debates I heard leading up to the Churchwide Assembly in 2009, in all the debates I heard on the floor of the 2009 CWA (I volunteered as a page), in all the continued fighting and controversy in the wake of those decisions (in which many who have been leaving have gifted us with parting jabs about abandoning the Bible), I don't recall hearing anybody make this case. And I can't help but wonder why.
So, one of the major critiques often launched against "liberal" positions on homosexuality within the church is that those who hold such opinions are antinomian (aka anti-law). Because Leviticus and Romans and yadda yadda yadda all clearly state this is wrong, so if you want to say it's not wrong you clearly just want to torch the Bible and dance on its grave. Or (less dramatically, and perhaps more nerve-wracking) you're setting up your own arbitrary criteria for what we follow and what we don't, and (this is the real concern) where will it stop? If you're wiling to "pitch" some parts of the Bible, whats to stop you from pitching the whole thing?
This is a very "brick wall" mentality regarding the Bible - every "brick" (verse) has equal size, weight, and value, and is rock solid, not flexible at all - and the fear is if you punch out enough bricks you compromise the integrity and stability of the whole structure.
A lot of people have this understanding of the Bible. But it's not the only way to think about it. A contrasting image is that of a trampoline, and thinking of the verses as the springs that hold it together. You can take a few springs out of a trampoline and it will still function, but more importantly, springs have give, they are flexible.
(we interrupt this post to give props to Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis, because that's who I'm stealing these images from - if you haven't read this book yet, you should)
Now before anybody gets all "You're pulling springs out of the trampoline? That's antinomian!" on me, please let me clarify that I'm NOT pulling springs out of the trampoline, and I'm not advocating that anybody else should either. I AM advocating that we should all be thinking of Bible verses as more like springs and less like bricks.
And I advocate that in part because that's kind of what we'd been doing for centuries. The law has never been so black and white, so cut and dried, as some folks like to make it out to be. You'd think something like "Thou shalt not steal" would be, but there are volumes of rabbinic debates and commentary as to when this law is bound and when this law is loosed.
Let me explain: let's say you are walking along and you spot a $100 bill on the ground. If you pick it up, is that stealing? It depends, say the rabbis. If you just pick it up and put it in your pocket without making any effort to look around and seek out who may have dropped it, then the law is bound, and yes, you are stealing from your neighbor. But if you make every good faith effort to return the money to its rightful owner and cannot find them no matter how hard you try, then the law is loosed, you may keep the money and you are not breaking the commandment.
This is a broad generalization of the kinds of reflection and rabbinic debate that would happen all the time. In reality it would go much deeper and in greater detail, but hopefully with this small example you get the picture.
Jesus himself was steeped in this tradition. In fact, we see him engaging in it in Matthew 12 when the Pharisees come after him and the disciples for plucking grain (aka doing work) on the Sabbath, a clear violation of their cut and dried understanding of the third commandment, to remember the Sabbath and keep it holy. Jesus counters with arguments as to why the law in this case should be loosed, and like a good case lawyer, he even cites historical precedent (King David, no less).
(we interrupt this post once again to give props to Mark Allan Powell's How Lutherans Interpret the Bible, because that's who I'm stealing these examples from - if you haven't yet watched this DVD series, you should)
Ok, so what does all this have to do with arguments you don't hear much and the gospel from this morning?
Namely this: in this morning's gospel, Jesus gives the church the power to bind and to loose. My Catholic brothers and sisters interpret this passage as giving only Peter and Peter's successors (aka the Popes) this authority, but we Protestants interpret it more broadly as the body of Christ, the church, having this power.
And we've used it. Repeatedly. I love ham and pork and bacon, others love shrimp and lobster, and we all eat these things freely because collectively the body of Christ decided to loose the Levitical kosher laws. The laws (which are pretty clear cut) are still sitting there in the Bible, no one has thrown those springs out, no one is "against" them, but we have decided they've got give and they are no longer binding upon the community. Similarly, I am a woman who is ordained and regularly speaks in worship, because the part of the body of Christ that is the ELCA collectively decided to loose the "law" in the Pauline letters that forbids women from speaking in church (though I am cognizant that several other members of the body have declared this law is still bound).
To me, it makes logical sense to extend this power to bind and to loose the law to the passages forbidding homosexuality. And to me, that is essentially what certain members of the body (the ELCA among them) have done, declared collectively (if rather contentiously) that these laws are indeed loosed. They are still sitting there, right next to the kosher laws in some instances, we have not thrown them out, but we have decided they are no longer binding.
I don't think that's being antinomian. I also don't think it's such a bad argument. My question is: why do I feel like I'm the only one I ever hear making it? In all the debates I heard leading up to the Churchwide Assembly in 2009, in all the debates I heard on the floor of the 2009 CWA (I volunteered as a page), in all the continued fighting and controversy in the wake of those decisions (in which many who have been leaving have gifted us with parting jabs about abandoning the Bible), I don't recall hearing anybody make this case. And I can't help but wonder why.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Mine is the Church Where Everybody's Welcome
Mine is the church where everybody’s welcome.
I know it’s true ‘cause I got through the door.
We are a dazzling bouquet of every kind of flower.
Jump in the vase, ‘cause we’ve got space for more.
-"A Dazzling Bouquet" by Bret Hesla
Officially all the transfer paperwork was taken care of by late November, and I became a member of Salem the Sunday of the blizzard. But the blizzard kept a number of us (myself included) from making it to church that day, so we were publicly welcomed into the community this morning.
On the one hand, it was a sad day, entailing the loss of an official connection to people I still care about back in Pennsylvania, and another little death to be endured in this transition from pastor to PhDland.
On the other hand, it was a joyful day to become a member of this amazing part of the body of Christ here in Minneapolis.
I love this congregation for many reasons. I love that they are indeed a dazzling bouquet where everyone is welcome, and worship reflects that as people of diverse ages, ethnicities, genders, sexual orientations, socioeconomic statuses, talents, interests, etc, gather every week to praise God and support one another in this life of discipleship.
I love that they are radically committed to ministry in their neighborhood, so much so that they are continually willing to die to their old selves and blossom into the new life that God is working in them and through them and with them.
I love that they are in the wilderness. Increasingly I am convinced this is the best place for a church to be, because the wilderness is where the people of God are truly shaped into the people of God; it's where our utter dependence on God is unavoidably and sometimes painfully obvious; it's where we are most focused on essentials (and least distracted by the crap) and most open and receptive to the Spirit; it's by living on the margins that we become more attuned to and empathic with all who are marginalized. This wilderness wandering is all the more impressive and intriguing considering the congregation physically exists in what is functionally the center of American Lutherandom.
I love that Jen is a great preacher and a great leader who makes it easy to be back in the pew instead of up front and in charge. I also love that she's a great colleague who welcomes my gifts and invites opportunities for me to keep playing in the sandbox of congregational life.
I love how friendly and welcoming pretty much everyone has been since the first day I walked in the door.
. . .so jump in the vase, 'cause we've got space for more!
Friday, December 17, 2010
Jesus the Liberal Democrat
Spot. On.
Many quotable lines in this, but here's my favorite:
"If this is gonna be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we've got to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we've got to acknowledge that he commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition, and then admit that we just don't want to do it."
Many quotable lines in this, but here's my favorite:
"If this is gonna be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we've got to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we've got to acknowledge that he commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition, and then admit that we just don't want to do it."
| The Colbert Report | Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c | |||
| Jesus Is a Liberal Democrat | ||||
| ||||
Monday, September 14, 2009
In Christ He is My Brother. . .
I don't normally put my sermons on this blog, but this is one I feel compelled to share. I was away volunteering at the Churchwide Assembly, then on vacation, and last week we had an assistant to the bishop as our guest, so this past Sunday was my first time back in the pulpit and my first chance to address what happened in Minneapolis. Julia and John's story has been used by permission, though names have been changed and certain identifying details generalized to protect the innocent. May the Spirit give us all eyes to see and ears to hear and the strength to bear one another's burdens in love. . .
In Christ He is My Brother
Well, even though today is Rally Day, and even though we are blessing backpacks and briefcases, students and teachers, and the beginning of a new school year, and the lectionary has even conveniently given me some Scripture really appropriate for teachers, there in both Isaiah and James, this morning I’m going to do something I never do. I’m going to ignore the lectionary and preach a sermon that has nothing to do with anything else happening in today’s worship, but has everything to do with who we are and how we live together as the body of Christ. This is a sermon I feel the Holy Spirit gave to me while I was volunteering at the Churchwide Assembly in Minneapolis 3 weeks ago, and I pray now the Holy Spirit will give all of you the ears to hear it.
I want to start by letting you know that going to the Churchwide Assembly was an incredible experience, and it made me very proud to be a Lutheran, because we are doing some amazing ministry – in our own backyards, across this nation, and throughout the world. The Churchwide Assembly is a chance to learn about and celebrate the ministry we are already doing, and to dedicate ourselves to new ministries that will meet the new needs and challenges arising in our midst. Among the many actions taken by the Churchwide Assembly were commitments to fund a global HIV/AIDS strategy, to both increase education and prevention efforts, and to provide resources to assist those already living with the disease; we also dedicated ourselves to developing a Lutheran Malaria Initiative, to help prevent and eradicate malaria, especially in Africa, by distributing mosquito nets, basically, bed tents, to be given to those who live and sleep in afflicted countries; we also committed ourselves to calling for long-overdue immigration reform in our own nation, and asked Augsburg Fortress, our publishing house, to develop worship and liturgical resources in Braille, to better include our sight-challenged brothers and sisters; and we voted to enter into full communion with our brothers and sisters in the United Methodist Church, an agreement that will help particularly rural or isolated congregations in both of our denominations to partner together in mission for Christ.
But my guess is that most of you haven’t heard a thing about any of these actions I just mentioned, because those are the things we are doing for the healing of the world. “Bo-ring” stuff as far as the media is concerned. What sells is sex and violence, so if you’ve heard anything about what happened in Minneapolis, I bet it’s about the decisions made regarding human sexuality, and the subsequent conflict, and potential schism within the church, as a result of those decisions.
In case you’ve been blissfully ignorant, and just so I know we are all on the same page, let me tell you what the assembly did decide. First, they approved, by the required 2/3 of the assembly, a social statement on human sexuality. This statement outlines what we as a church believe is healthy, helpful, and life-giving in relation to sexuality and sexual behavior, and it also outlines what we as a church believe is unhealthy, harmful, or life-taking in these matters. I would encourage all of you to read this statement for yourselves – you can either find it online, or, if you do not have access to the internet, call the church office and we would be happy to print you a copy.
The assembly also approved to allow congregations and pastors of the ELCA to provide pastoral care for their homosexual members as they best saw fit, acknowledging that such pastoral care may include the blessing of same-sex unions.
And the assembly also approved that congregations and synods be allowed to call whichever qualified candidate for ministry they believe the Holy Spirit is sending them, even if that candidate is a homosexual in a lifelong, monogamous, publicly accountable partnership (or, to put it another way, if they are in a covenanted relationship like unto the marriage of their heterosexual peers).
These are the decisions that I’m guessing you have heard something about, though I imagine they were presented in a much more polarizing fashion than I’ve laid them out for you here.
My guess is that you also didn’t hear about the “boring” decision made in relationship to and in conjunction with all of these decisions about sexuality. That relatively boring, non-sexy decision that in the implementation of any resolutions on ministry policies, the ELCA commits itself to bear one another’s burdens, to love the neighbor, and to respect the bound conscience of all. I bet you didn’t hear that that decision overwhelmingly received the most support out of all the decisions that were made in regard to human sexuality. I bet you also didn’t hear that the assembly chose to move that decision up on their agenda so it would be considered first – and that 77% of the voting members, without yet knowing how the votes on the other considerations would play out – 77% of the people there said regardless of what happens, we are committed to each other. No matter how this turns out, we are committed to loving and caring for each other in the face of deep and often passionate disagreement; we are committed to respecting the conscience of not only those who share our opinions and scriptural understanding, but also and especially of those who do not share our opinions and scriptural understanding; we are committed to bearing one another’s burdens – that is, to bearing both one another’s relief and one another’s dismay. Because no matter how those votes turned out, my friends, whether those policies were approved or denied, it was certain a great many people in this church were going to rejoice and a great many people in this church were going to lament.
I don’t know if you realize it, friends, but this is probably the most earth-shattering decision that was made in Minneapolis – in the midst of a culture that constantly tries to polarize us, whether the camps we are being broken down into are black or white, male or female, gay or straight, Republican or Democrat, conservative or liberal, Protestant or Catholic, mainline or evangelical, city or country, East or West, North or South, Pepsi drinkers or Coke drinkers, Steelers fans or Eagles fans – in a culture that is constantly trying to divvy us up and tells us repeatedly that we should only associate with like-minded people, for this church to stand up and say “No – we are committed to loving and respecting and bearing both the joy and the pain of one another, even in the midst of our disagreement” – that is a profound witness to what God has done and is doing even now in Christ.
And I have no doubt in my mind that the Holy Spirit is running loose in this church, as I saw this witness to Christ’s unity emerge over and over again that week in Minneapolis.
One of the speakers who came to the floor during the assembly was a middle-aged pastor who told a story from his internship 20 years earlier, when he was visiting a woman who was dying. Death has a tendency to make people awfully reflective, and in this case, it was not merely the woman but also her husband who was thinking back over his life, both joys and regrets. The husband was wrestling with a lot of guilt – you see, he had been an American bombardier during WWII, and had been involved in the carpet-bombing of Berlin. He was certain his actions had been directly responsible for the murder of innocent civilians, and he couldn’t forgive himself for that, and he wasn’t sure God could forgive him for it either.
Later in that very same week, this young student pastor was visiting another woman in the congregation, and in the course of conversation, discovered that she was a German immigrant, and had been a child in Berlin during the war. She herself had survived, but she had held her sister in her arms as the sister died from injuries sustained during the carpet-bombing.
In youthful ignorance, the student pastor blurted out “Do you know about the history of this man in the congregation? He could very well be the one who dropped the bomb that killed your sister! How can you go to church with this man?! How can you stand at the communion rail with him?!”
And the woman looked the student pastor right in the eye and said, “In Christ, he is my brother. How can I hold anything against him?”
In the midst of the sexuality discussions, another pastor got up to speak –white, male, about my age - he’s a friend of a friend, actually, so I also happen to know he is straight and married. He was speaking at a green microphone, which meant that he spoke in favor of the recommendations before the floor. But the first words out of his mouth were: “Is anybody else scared to death to be speaking at a microphone? I’m shaking here. . .please pray for me while I do this.”
And then we all watched as the man standing next to him at the red microphone reached out and put his hand on this pastor’s shoulder, bowed his head, and prayed for him for the duration of his speech, even as he was speaking an opposing point of view.
In Christ, he is my brother. How can I hold anything against him?
My friend Julia is a pastor in Minnesota, she was a volunteer coordinator for the Churchwide Assembly, she’s the one who recruited me to come and help out for the week. Her college friend John was not a seminary classmate of ours but he is also a pastor, in the South, he was also there for the week, not as a volunteer but as a voting member for his synod. John and Julia’s families are very close, close enough that Julia and her husband Jay chose John to be godfather to their daughter Judy. But, John and Julia’s families are also diametrically opposed in their scriptural understanding and their opinions on these matters of sexuality.
During the assembly, John became a recognizable face of opposition as he spoke several times at the red microphones. Throughout the assembly, as decisions were made that were pleasing to Julia but disappointing to John, she kept seeking him out to see how he was doing and to be a good friend and support him as he struggled with what was happening.
At one point late in the week, Julia was in the volunteer break room watching the proceedings on a closed-circuit TV, and one of our classmates from seminary, a woman named Jane, came into the room right as John was again speaking from a red microphone. Julia told Jane “That’s Judy’s godfather.” To which Jane replied, “Oh. . .huh. . .well, don’t you think you ought to be distancing your daughter from him?”
And Julia was so dumbfounded by the suggestion that she didn’t even know what to say. They had known of this disagreement between them long before Judy was born, and that had not prevented Julia and Jay from choosing John as Judy’s godfather, nor had it prevented John from joyfully accepting this role in Judy’s life. So why on earth, Julia wanted to ask, would the events of this week alter that relationship in any way?
Which is not to say that their relationship is always easy – John and Julia both would be the first to tell you that some days it’s very hard to not let this difference interfere with their friendship. But they both work at it, and they both bear with one another in love.
Maybe in the shock-induced absence of anything else to say, Julia should have simply looked Jane in the eye and said “In Christ, he is my brother. How can I hold anything against him?”
Certainly, there are those within this church – on both sides of this issue, because I hear it coming from both those who are deeply pleased and from those who are deeply disappointed by the decisions made in Minneapolis – but I hear all kinds of people in this church who think the only way forward from here is to separate and distance ourselves from those with whom we disagree.
And if that is where you are at, if your conscience binds you to distance yourself in any way from this body of Christ, I want you to know I will respect that, and I will respect you, and I will continue to love you and to bear the burden of these decisions with you, because in Christ YOU ARE my brothers and sisters, and I can hold nothing against you.
But I also must confess to you, my brothers and sisters, that the will to separate is not where I am at. A church which sorts itself out into only like-minded people is not the church that I want to belong to, and it’s not the church that I feel called to serve, because I believe we need each other: black and white, male and female, gay and straight, Republican and Democrat, conservative and liberal, Protestant and Catholic, mainline and evangelical, city and country, East and West, North and South, Pepsi drinkers and Coke drinkers, Steelers fans and Eagles fans. . .in God’s kingdom, I believe there is room AND there is need FOR ALL.
So the church that is committed to holding together and living together in spite of our disagreements, the church that communes with and prays for even those we may consider our enemies, the church that John and Julia work every day to embody - that’s the church I want to belong to. . .that’s the church I believe God is calling us to be. . .that’s the church I believe Jesus is even now creating in our midst.
THANKS BE TO GOD.
Amen.
In Christ He is My Brother
Well, even though today is Rally Day, and even though we are blessing backpacks and briefcases, students and teachers, and the beginning of a new school year, and the lectionary has even conveniently given me some Scripture really appropriate for teachers, there in both Isaiah and James, this morning I’m going to do something I never do. I’m going to ignore the lectionary and preach a sermon that has nothing to do with anything else happening in today’s worship, but has everything to do with who we are and how we live together as the body of Christ. This is a sermon I feel the Holy Spirit gave to me while I was volunteering at the Churchwide Assembly in Minneapolis 3 weeks ago, and I pray now the Holy Spirit will give all of you the ears to hear it.
I want to start by letting you know that going to the Churchwide Assembly was an incredible experience, and it made me very proud to be a Lutheran, because we are doing some amazing ministry – in our own backyards, across this nation, and throughout the world. The Churchwide Assembly is a chance to learn about and celebrate the ministry we are already doing, and to dedicate ourselves to new ministries that will meet the new needs and challenges arising in our midst. Among the many actions taken by the Churchwide Assembly were commitments to fund a global HIV/AIDS strategy, to both increase education and prevention efforts, and to provide resources to assist those already living with the disease; we also dedicated ourselves to developing a Lutheran Malaria Initiative, to help prevent and eradicate malaria, especially in Africa, by distributing mosquito nets, basically, bed tents, to be given to those who live and sleep in afflicted countries; we also committed ourselves to calling for long-overdue immigration reform in our own nation, and asked Augsburg Fortress, our publishing house, to develop worship and liturgical resources in Braille, to better include our sight-challenged brothers and sisters; and we voted to enter into full communion with our brothers and sisters in the United Methodist Church, an agreement that will help particularly rural or isolated congregations in both of our denominations to partner together in mission for Christ.
But my guess is that most of you haven’t heard a thing about any of these actions I just mentioned, because those are the things we are doing for the healing of the world. “Bo-ring” stuff as far as the media is concerned. What sells is sex and violence, so if you’ve heard anything about what happened in Minneapolis, I bet it’s about the decisions made regarding human sexuality, and the subsequent conflict, and potential schism within the church, as a result of those decisions.
In case you’ve been blissfully ignorant, and just so I know we are all on the same page, let me tell you what the assembly did decide. First, they approved, by the required 2/3 of the assembly, a social statement on human sexuality. This statement outlines what we as a church believe is healthy, helpful, and life-giving in relation to sexuality and sexual behavior, and it also outlines what we as a church believe is unhealthy, harmful, or life-taking in these matters. I would encourage all of you to read this statement for yourselves – you can either find it online, or, if you do not have access to the internet, call the church office and we would be happy to print you a copy.
The assembly also approved to allow congregations and pastors of the ELCA to provide pastoral care for their homosexual members as they best saw fit, acknowledging that such pastoral care may include the blessing of same-sex unions.
And the assembly also approved that congregations and synods be allowed to call whichever qualified candidate for ministry they believe the Holy Spirit is sending them, even if that candidate is a homosexual in a lifelong, monogamous, publicly accountable partnership (or, to put it another way, if they are in a covenanted relationship like unto the marriage of their heterosexual peers).
These are the decisions that I’m guessing you have heard something about, though I imagine they were presented in a much more polarizing fashion than I’ve laid them out for you here.
My guess is that you also didn’t hear about the “boring” decision made in relationship to and in conjunction with all of these decisions about sexuality. That relatively boring, non-sexy decision that in the implementation of any resolutions on ministry policies, the ELCA commits itself to bear one another’s burdens, to love the neighbor, and to respect the bound conscience of all. I bet you didn’t hear that that decision overwhelmingly received the most support out of all the decisions that were made in regard to human sexuality. I bet you also didn’t hear that the assembly chose to move that decision up on their agenda so it would be considered first – and that 77% of the voting members, without yet knowing how the votes on the other considerations would play out – 77% of the people there said regardless of what happens, we are committed to each other. No matter how this turns out, we are committed to loving and caring for each other in the face of deep and often passionate disagreement; we are committed to respecting the conscience of not only those who share our opinions and scriptural understanding, but also and especially of those who do not share our opinions and scriptural understanding; we are committed to bearing one another’s burdens – that is, to bearing both one another’s relief and one another’s dismay. Because no matter how those votes turned out, my friends, whether those policies were approved or denied, it was certain a great many people in this church were going to rejoice and a great many people in this church were going to lament.
I don’t know if you realize it, friends, but this is probably the most earth-shattering decision that was made in Minneapolis – in the midst of a culture that constantly tries to polarize us, whether the camps we are being broken down into are black or white, male or female, gay or straight, Republican or Democrat, conservative or liberal, Protestant or Catholic, mainline or evangelical, city or country, East or West, North or South, Pepsi drinkers or Coke drinkers, Steelers fans or Eagles fans – in a culture that is constantly trying to divvy us up and tells us repeatedly that we should only associate with like-minded people, for this church to stand up and say “No – we are committed to loving and respecting and bearing both the joy and the pain of one another, even in the midst of our disagreement” – that is a profound witness to what God has done and is doing even now in Christ.
And I have no doubt in my mind that the Holy Spirit is running loose in this church, as I saw this witness to Christ’s unity emerge over and over again that week in Minneapolis.
One of the speakers who came to the floor during the assembly was a middle-aged pastor who told a story from his internship 20 years earlier, when he was visiting a woman who was dying. Death has a tendency to make people awfully reflective, and in this case, it was not merely the woman but also her husband who was thinking back over his life, both joys and regrets. The husband was wrestling with a lot of guilt – you see, he had been an American bombardier during WWII, and had been involved in the carpet-bombing of Berlin. He was certain his actions had been directly responsible for the murder of innocent civilians, and he couldn’t forgive himself for that, and he wasn’t sure God could forgive him for it either.
Later in that very same week, this young student pastor was visiting another woman in the congregation, and in the course of conversation, discovered that she was a German immigrant, and had been a child in Berlin during the war. She herself had survived, but she had held her sister in her arms as the sister died from injuries sustained during the carpet-bombing.
In youthful ignorance, the student pastor blurted out “Do you know about the history of this man in the congregation? He could very well be the one who dropped the bomb that killed your sister! How can you go to church with this man?! How can you stand at the communion rail with him?!”
And the woman looked the student pastor right in the eye and said, “In Christ, he is my brother. How can I hold anything against him?”
In the midst of the sexuality discussions, another pastor got up to speak –white, male, about my age - he’s a friend of a friend, actually, so I also happen to know he is straight and married. He was speaking at a green microphone, which meant that he spoke in favor of the recommendations before the floor. But the first words out of his mouth were: “Is anybody else scared to death to be speaking at a microphone? I’m shaking here. . .please pray for me while I do this.”
And then we all watched as the man standing next to him at the red microphone reached out and put his hand on this pastor’s shoulder, bowed his head, and prayed for him for the duration of his speech, even as he was speaking an opposing point of view.
In Christ, he is my brother. How can I hold anything against him?
My friend Julia is a pastor in Minnesota, she was a volunteer coordinator for the Churchwide Assembly, she’s the one who recruited me to come and help out for the week. Her college friend John was not a seminary classmate of ours but he is also a pastor, in the South, he was also there for the week, not as a volunteer but as a voting member for his synod. John and Julia’s families are very close, close enough that Julia and her husband Jay chose John to be godfather to their daughter Judy. But, John and Julia’s families are also diametrically opposed in their scriptural understanding and their opinions on these matters of sexuality.
During the assembly, John became a recognizable face of opposition as he spoke several times at the red microphones. Throughout the assembly, as decisions were made that were pleasing to Julia but disappointing to John, she kept seeking him out to see how he was doing and to be a good friend and support him as he struggled with what was happening.
At one point late in the week, Julia was in the volunteer break room watching the proceedings on a closed-circuit TV, and one of our classmates from seminary, a woman named Jane, came into the room right as John was again speaking from a red microphone. Julia told Jane “That’s Judy’s godfather.” To which Jane replied, “Oh. . .huh. . .well, don’t you think you ought to be distancing your daughter from him?”
And Julia was so dumbfounded by the suggestion that she didn’t even know what to say. They had known of this disagreement between them long before Judy was born, and that had not prevented Julia and Jay from choosing John as Judy’s godfather, nor had it prevented John from joyfully accepting this role in Judy’s life. So why on earth, Julia wanted to ask, would the events of this week alter that relationship in any way?
Which is not to say that their relationship is always easy – John and Julia both would be the first to tell you that some days it’s very hard to not let this difference interfere with their friendship. But they both work at it, and they both bear with one another in love.
Maybe in the shock-induced absence of anything else to say, Julia should have simply looked Jane in the eye and said “In Christ, he is my brother. How can I hold anything against him?”
Certainly, there are those within this church – on both sides of this issue, because I hear it coming from both those who are deeply pleased and from those who are deeply disappointed by the decisions made in Minneapolis – but I hear all kinds of people in this church who think the only way forward from here is to separate and distance ourselves from those with whom we disagree.
And if that is where you are at, if your conscience binds you to distance yourself in any way from this body of Christ, I want you to know I will respect that, and I will respect you, and I will continue to love you and to bear the burden of these decisions with you, because in Christ YOU ARE my brothers and sisters, and I can hold nothing against you.
But I also must confess to you, my brothers and sisters, that the will to separate is not where I am at. A church which sorts itself out into only like-minded people is not the church that I want to belong to, and it’s not the church that I feel called to serve, because I believe we need each other: black and white, male and female, gay and straight, Republican and Democrat, conservative and liberal, Protestant and Catholic, mainline and evangelical, city and country, East and West, North and South, Pepsi drinkers and Coke drinkers, Steelers fans and Eagles fans. . .in God’s kingdom, I believe there is room AND there is need FOR ALL.
So the church that is committed to holding together and living together in spite of our disagreements, the church that communes with and prays for even those we may consider our enemies, the church that John and Julia work every day to embody - that’s the church I want to belong to. . .that’s the church I believe God is calling us to be. . .that’s the church I believe Jesus is even now creating in our midst.
THANKS BE TO GOD.
Amen.
Friday, July 24, 2009
The Unstarbucks
Starbucks began as a little independent coffee shop across the street from Pike Place Market in Seattle. I don't really know its history that well, but somewhere along the line of its growth, it hit a tipping point and became a nationwide phenomena, as ubiquitous as McDonalds.
I'm not really a coffee drinker, so I have no anecdotal taste memory to back up this suspicion, but I imagine somewhere during their rapid expansion, they also became the McDonald's of fine coffee. What I mean by that is: McDonald's is reliable mediocrity. It's not the best food you've ever had, but it's certainly not the worst either, and if you're on a long cross-country trip, you can be reasonably certain that any McDonald's you stop at will provide a clean bathroom and food that won't make you sick, food that tastes exactly like the food at the McDonald's in your hometown.
I have a feeling something similar happened to Starbucks, at least in perception if not reality. From my coffee drinking friends, I've discerned that Starbucks is many steps above diner or church basement coffee, but compared to what is available at the local independent coffee shop, it has become reliable mediocrity. Like I say, I wouldn't know if this is really true in terms of taste, but it certainly seems to be true in terms of perception - walk into any Starbucks across the country and it looks essentially the same, and will probably taste essentially the same - it's just one more symbol of corporate America trying to get us to brand ourselves.
But now the trend is against being branded. Now consumers (or at least, the hipsters who are the head lemmings we all follow over the next tipping point) are trending more toward the local, the independent, the microbrew. So, according to a report on Nightline last night, the wolf is putting on sheep's clothing - Starbucks opened a new coffee shop in Seattle that's not really a Starbucks - it's "inspired by Starbucks," and it's owned by Starbucks, but it's meant to imitate the little independently owned coffee shop on the corner.
There's a lot that could be said about this - observations on the way that what goes around comes around and how eventually everything and everyone revisits their beginnings (a sign of growth, according to T.S. Eliot, if when we get there, we see it again as if for the first time).
I guess I'm kind of more interested in the way that a similar cycle is happening in churches. Christian communities began as house churches, and after living through several decades of explosive growth in the "McChurch"/megachurch model, many emergent churches are going back to the house church format - small communities of accountability, support, and service that don't necessarily meet in buildings dedicated exclusively for the purposes of the congregation. They are going back to the local, back to the independent, back to the microchurch. And in many ways, they are the "unchurch," relative to most people's working definition of what the church is. Yet in many ways they are more truly the church than most "traditional" congregations, relative to the Bible's working definition of what the church is.
I don't really know where I'm going with all of this yet, just wanted to get it out there while I was thinking of it. . .crazy where a simple little Nightline report can lead one. . .
I'm not really a coffee drinker, so I have no anecdotal taste memory to back up this suspicion, but I imagine somewhere during their rapid expansion, they also became the McDonald's of fine coffee. What I mean by that is: McDonald's is reliable mediocrity. It's not the best food you've ever had, but it's certainly not the worst either, and if you're on a long cross-country trip, you can be reasonably certain that any McDonald's you stop at will provide a clean bathroom and food that won't make you sick, food that tastes exactly like the food at the McDonald's in your hometown.
I have a feeling something similar happened to Starbucks, at least in perception if not reality. From my coffee drinking friends, I've discerned that Starbucks is many steps above diner or church basement coffee, but compared to what is available at the local independent coffee shop, it has become reliable mediocrity. Like I say, I wouldn't know if this is really true in terms of taste, but it certainly seems to be true in terms of perception - walk into any Starbucks across the country and it looks essentially the same, and will probably taste essentially the same - it's just one more symbol of corporate America trying to get us to brand ourselves.
But now the trend is against being branded. Now consumers (or at least, the hipsters who are the head lemmings we all follow over the next tipping point) are trending more toward the local, the independent, the microbrew. So, according to a report on Nightline last night, the wolf is putting on sheep's clothing - Starbucks opened a new coffee shop in Seattle that's not really a Starbucks - it's "inspired by Starbucks," and it's owned by Starbucks, but it's meant to imitate the little independently owned coffee shop on the corner.
There's a lot that could be said about this - observations on the way that what goes around comes around and how eventually everything and everyone revisits their beginnings (a sign of growth, according to T.S. Eliot, if when we get there, we see it again as if for the first time).
I guess I'm kind of more interested in the way that a similar cycle is happening in churches. Christian communities began as house churches, and after living through several decades of explosive growth in the "McChurch"/megachurch model, many emergent churches are going back to the house church format - small communities of accountability, support, and service that don't necessarily meet in buildings dedicated exclusively for the purposes of the congregation. They are going back to the local, back to the independent, back to the microchurch. And in many ways, they are the "unchurch," relative to most people's working definition of what the church is. Yet in many ways they are more truly the church than most "traditional" congregations, relative to the Bible's working definition of what the church is.
I don't really know where I'm going with all of this yet, just wanted to get it out there while I was thinking of it. . .crazy where a simple little Nightline report can lead one. . .
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Wade in the Water
Interesting things going on over at All My Children these days. Bianca (the youngest daughter of the show's diva, Erica Kane) is back in town, and she's engaged and has a new baby. That might not be so interesting in itself, except, you see, Bianca is gay.
Baby Gabrielle was scheduled to be "christened" this past week, and the first pastor scheduled to do the ceremony, who was clearly supposed to be a Catholic priest, refused to perform the baptism once he realized the baby was the child of a gay couple.
I realize such rejection is, sadly, more often the experience homosexuals have with the church than not, so it was good and accurate for it to be part of the story. Still, I found myself furious by what was happening on screen, and thought - were these real people - I would have tracked them down and offered to baptize the baby myself (Pine Valley can only be a couple hours from Lewisburg, at most!).
Turned out my services were not needed :) - by the end of the episode, La Kane had taken care of things and found a woman pastor with a sweet looking portable font who "christened" Gabrielle. I'm a little confused as to what tradition this pastor was supposed to represent - she wore black academic robes like a Methodist, but a banded clerical collar and a white stole like an Episcopalian, and the baptism itself was rather humanist - but what else can one expect from a soap?
In any case, I was curious to see what kind of chatter there was on the official AMC discussion board after all this, and it was very interesting - as may be expected, there were those who lauded abc for showing the discrimination gay people constantly face in the church, as well as those who defended the priest's decision and lambasted abc for picking on the Catholic church.
Even more interesting is how those latter discussions morphed into conversations about baptismal practices in general. One of the defenses of the priest was that, given that nobody in Pine Valley seems to be involved in a faith community on a regular basis, the priest was well within his rights to refuse the baptism (even though it was clear those weren't the grounds of his refusal). Several folks responded with stories of being denied baptism for their own children because they were not members of the church, and their analysis was simply that all the church wants is money, and if you're not willing to join and give it, too bad for you - no baptism.
Now, I can understand how these folks may have come to this conclusion. But let me give you the pastor's perspective on baptism.
And let me start by saying that I have yet to deny anybody a baptism, and I find it unlikely I ever will. I have baptized both children and adults, I have baptized people in families that are very active in my congregation, and I have baptized people whose immediate families are not active at all in the congregation (and who have never darkened the door of the church since).
Here's what baptism is not: eternal fire insurance. I know, lots of people, even highly churched people, treat it as such. And I suspect that's why a lot of people, even highly unchurched people, want to get their kids "done" (as some have called it), because they think baptism is some golden ticket into heaven.
That's not exactly how it works. Baptism, first and foremost, is a covenant. Primarily a covenant between God and the person being baptized. In the act of baptism God names and claims this person as God's own beloved child.
Now, does that mean that if you're not baptized, you're not a child of God? Absolutely not. But baptism is a very public declaration of this relationship with God - in front of witnesses, God makes this covenant with you and promises that you are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. In other words - no take backs. No matter what happens. And that's a good promise to be able to cling to, especially on those days and in those seasons when your life is a mess, when you feel like you're drowning in mistakes, when your heart is broken, when you're overwhelmed by the darkness, when all others have abandoned you - in all times and places, it's good to know you can trust that God is with you and for you, come what may.
I believe this a promise that God wants to make publicly to everyone, and this aspect of the covenant is why I can't see myself ever denying a baptism, no matter how shady the motivations of the parents or the person themselves. For I hold with the prophet Isaiah that the Word of God never returns to God empty, but always, ultimately, bears fruit; and I feel it is neither my right nor my responsibility, as a member of the clergy, to stand in the Word's way. If anything, my job is to cast the Word out into the world and then do my best to keep myself and others from bungling it up.
All of that being said - the covenant between God and the person being baptized is not the only covenant being made that day. The parents, the godparents, and the whole body of Christ are also making promises to the one being baptized - significant promises to help the baptized learn the old, old story of God's deep love for and engagement with the world, to help them discern their role in this ever-unfolding narrative, and to help them wrestle with the deep questions of faith that will inevitably pop up along the way. We make these promises because we believe you can't do any of this on your own - you need the help and support of a community, and part of these promises are concrete commitments to life together - to worship together, and study together, and talk together.
So when folks who are not already a part of the community, and who, after conversation, clearly have no interest in becoming part of the community, come to me and ask for a baptism, I do stop and wonder why it really even matters to them - I mean, why bother going through this ritual and making promises that you don't intend to keep? That's basically making a mockery of the whole process - which is, you know, kind of irritating to those of us who take these promises seriously and hold this ritual sacred.
But in spite of this rub, one's answer to the question "To baptize, or not to baptize" ultimately comes down to which covenants one feels are most important. I believe, for the sake of the baptized, it is most important to make God's covenant with them a matter of graspable, tangible public record, because God's promises never fail, even when all our human promises fade and whither like the grass. And, as I said, I trust the power and efficacy of God's Word to find its way and bear its fruit in spite of all our attempts to bungle it. So I'd rather err on the side of grace, and consequently have yet to refuse a baptism, and doubt that I ever will.
But I can also understand the frustration of fellow clergy who are tired of trampling on the human covenants being made that day, I can understand their desire to raise the bar and reasonably expect the people making these promises to put a modicum of effort into fulfilling them.
And to those who've encountered such clergy, who have perhaps even been denied a baptism as a result of your unwillingness to meet whatever expectations were laid out by this clergy and/or their congregation - before you get all hot and bothered and start tearing down the church for not asking "How high?" when you said "Jump!," can I ask you to consider this possibility: that it is not so much about them wanting your money, as it is about God wanting your life, and them taking seriously what God has said from the very beginning, that it is not good for you to live that life alone? I mean, I wasn't there, I don't know what shook down, and I know there are clergy and congregations out there who do want to grow their membership just to get more coins in the coffer. So, your take on things may be entirely right. I'm just asking you to consider another side of things, in the off-chance you were wrong.
Whoo - that's probably enough about baptism, at least for today. I trust certain faithful readers and fellow members in the priesthood of all believers will correct me if I've spewed forth any heresy. :) And I welcome any further thoughts or insights on the matter - leave a comment!
Peace,
C.
Baby Gabrielle was scheduled to be "christened" this past week, and the first pastor scheduled to do the ceremony, who was clearly supposed to be a Catholic priest, refused to perform the baptism once he realized the baby was the child of a gay couple.
I realize such rejection is, sadly, more often the experience homosexuals have with the church than not, so it was good and accurate for it to be part of the story. Still, I found myself furious by what was happening on screen, and thought - were these real people - I would have tracked them down and offered to baptize the baby myself (Pine Valley can only be a couple hours from Lewisburg, at most!).
Turned out my services were not needed :) - by the end of the episode, La Kane had taken care of things and found a woman pastor with a sweet looking portable font who "christened" Gabrielle. I'm a little confused as to what tradition this pastor was supposed to represent - she wore black academic robes like a Methodist, but a banded clerical collar and a white stole like an Episcopalian, and the baptism itself was rather humanist - but what else can one expect from a soap?
In any case, I was curious to see what kind of chatter there was on the official AMC discussion board after all this, and it was very interesting - as may be expected, there were those who lauded abc for showing the discrimination gay people constantly face in the church, as well as those who defended the priest's decision and lambasted abc for picking on the Catholic church.
Even more interesting is how those latter discussions morphed into conversations about baptismal practices in general. One of the defenses of the priest was that, given that nobody in Pine Valley seems to be involved in a faith community on a regular basis, the priest was well within his rights to refuse the baptism (even though it was clear those weren't the grounds of his refusal). Several folks responded with stories of being denied baptism for their own children because they were not members of the church, and their analysis was simply that all the church wants is money, and if you're not willing to join and give it, too bad for you - no baptism.
Now, I can understand how these folks may have come to this conclusion. But let me give you the pastor's perspective on baptism.
And let me start by saying that I have yet to deny anybody a baptism, and I find it unlikely I ever will. I have baptized both children and adults, I have baptized people in families that are very active in my congregation, and I have baptized people whose immediate families are not active at all in the congregation (and who have never darkened the door of the church since).
Here's what baptism is not: eternal fire insurance. I know, lots of people, even highly churched people, treat it as such. And I suspect that's why a lot of people, even highly unchurched people, want to get their kids "done" (as some have called it), because they think baptism is some golden ticket into heaven.
That's not exactly how it works. Baptism, first and foremost, is a covenant. Primarily a covenant between God and the person being baptized. In the act of baptism God names and claims this person as God's own beloved child.
Now, does that mean that if you're not baptized, you're not a child of God? Absolutely not. But baptism is a very public declaration of this relationship with God - in front of witnesses, God makes this covenant with you and promises that you are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. In other words - no take backs. No matter what happens. And that's a good promise to be able to cling to, especially on those days and in those seasons when your life is a mess, when you feel like you're drowning in mistakes, when your heart is broken, when you're overwhelmed by the darkness, when all others have abandoned you - in all times and places, it's good to know you can trust that God is with you and for you, come what may.
I believe this a promise that God wants to make publicly to everyone, and this aspect of the covenant is why I can't see myself ever denying a baptism, no matter how shady the motivations of the parents or the person themselves. For I hold with the prophet Isaiah that the Word of God never returns to God empty, but always, ultimately, bears fruit; and I feel it is neither my right nor my responsibility, as a member of the clergy, to stand in the Word's way. If anything, my job is to cast the Word out into the world and then do my best to keep myself and others from bungling it up.
All of that being said - the covenant between God and the person being baptized is not the only covenant being made that day. The parents, the godparents, and the whole body of Christ are also making promises to the one being baptized - significant promises to help the baptized learn the old, old story of God's deep love for and engagement with the world, to help them discern their role in this ever-unfolding narrative, and to help them wrestle with the deep questions of faith that will inevitably pop up along the way. We make these promises because we believe you can't do any of this on your own - you need the help and support of a community, and part of these promises are concrete commitments to life together - to worship together, and study together, and talk together.
So when folks who are not already a part of the community, and who, after conversation, clearly have no interest in becoming part of the community, come to me and ask for a baptism, I do stop and wonder why it really even matters to them - I mean, why bother going through this ritual and making promises that you don't intend to keep? That's basically making a mockery of the whole process - which is, you know, kind of irritating to those of us who take these promises seriously and hold this ritual sacred.
But in spite of this rub, one's answer to the question "To baptize, or not to baptize" ultimately comes down to which covenants one feels are most important. I believe, for the sake of the baptized, it is most important to make God's covenant with them a matter of graspable, tangible public record, because God's promises never fail, even when all our human promises fade and whither like the grass. And, as I said, I trust the power and efficacy of God's Word to find its way and bear its fruit in spite of all our attempts to bungle it. So I'd rather err on the side of grace, and consequently have yet to refuse a baptism, and doubt that I ever will.
But I can also understand the frustration of fellow clergy who are tired of trampling on the human covenants being made that day, I can understand their desire to raise the bar and reasonably expect the people making these promises to put a modicum of effort into fulfilling them.
And to those who've encountered such clergy, who have perhaps even been denied a baptism as a result of your unwillingness to meet whatever expectations were laid out by this clergy and/or their congregation - before you get all hot and bothered and start tearing down the church for not asking "How high?" when you said "Jump!," can I ask you to consider this possibility: that it is not so much about them wanting your money, as it is about God wanting your life, and them taking seriously what God has said from the very beginning, that it is not good for you to live that life alone? I mean, I wasn't there, I don't know what shook down, and I know there are clergy and congregations out there who do want to grow their membership just to get more coins in the coffer. So, your take on things may be entirely right. I'm just asking you to consider another side of things, in the off-chance you were wrong.
Whoo - that's probably enough about baptism, at least for today. I trust certain faithful readers and fellow members in the priesthood of all believers will correct me if I've spewed forth any heresy. :) And I welcome any further thoughts or insights on the matter - leave a comment!
Peace,
C.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
The Weight of History
This luggage tag was a birthday gift from the Mays, and true to my nerdy Lutheran self I think it's hilarious (though i don't know why blogger won't rotate the picture - sorry). Funny as I normally find it, however, I put it up to illustrate more somber thoughts tonight. So let's see just what baggage I'm lugging around these days. . .
The first night of the GME, we heard Katrina Browne speak, then watched her documentary Traces of the Trade. It's about her and a group of her cousins coming to terms with the fact that their ancestors were the biggest slave trading family in New England. It's a good film but heavy - I don't recommend watching it if you're already having a rough day. And watch it with someone you can discuss it with afterwards, not by yourself, if possible.
I've been thinking a lot about the weight of our history ever since that night. Browne said the reaction from many folks, especially those whose ancestors happened to have immigrated after the slave trade and even the Civil War was over, is that "These weren't my ancestors. This isn't my or my family's fault. I have no guilt, no responsibility here." Being the descendent of more recent immigrants myself, and being from a Northern state, I'd have to say this is my normal response.
Browne's response to that (which she credited to conversations with a history teacher) is that later immigrants came because America was the land of opportunity, and it was such a land of opportunity precisely because of an economy largely built on and undergirded by slave labor. In thinking more about it I would also add, even just stepping off the boat and not speaking the language, those later immigrants still had a degree of white privilege that provided opportunities which native-born black Americans were denied, even if their families had been here for generations. So though myself and my ancestors may not have been the perpetrators, we are certainly still among the benefactors of an evil and unjust system. Long before my family ever dreamed of America, the body of Christ was broken here, for us.
But that's not the only weight I'm carrying. Yesterday was the anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima. Part of the argument in dropping the bomb was that it would end the war sooner and ultimately save more lives. My grandfather's life is certainly among those that this decision intended to spare - he was sworn into the Navy the day before the Japanese surrendered. Instead of getting sent to the Pacific front he was sent to Oregon to decommission returning battleships. While my mother was yet a twinkle in my grandparents' eyes, the body of Christ was broken half way around the world, for me.
But it's not just the weight of such history that I'm lugging around. It's also the weight of today. For the body of Christ is still being broken, in this country, around the world, every day, for me. Traces of the Trade brought that up as well - the modern day slaveries and unjust systems that our lives depend upon. I am afforded many privileges and opportunities because of my skin color, citizenship, economic class, and education level, things others are denied because they lack one or more of the same qualities. I am afforded a lifestyle that, while rather simple by American standards, is yet outrageously luxurious compared to most of the world, a lifestyle that is underwritten by the people who work for a non-livable wage (in this country and others), by the people who live next to the factory farms and the garbage heaps and the mined mountain tops, by the soldiers risking their lives to enforce the Pax Americana, by the creation itself, which suffers every indignity and abuse in the name of efficiency, all of whom pay a price so that my costs as a consumer stay relatively cheap (even in a world of rising expenses). This is all the body of Christ, broken daily, for me.
Jesus, that's a hell of a lot of baggage.
Lord, have mercy.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Let's Talk About S-x, Baby
Well, the ELCA's draft statement on sexuality was finally released today. In the interest of full disclosure, I have not read it all - I'm going to print it out at work tomorrow so I can mark it up as I go through it. But I did read about the last 15 pages of it (atypically jumped to the end and worked my way backwards).
So, these are some initial reactions based on what I have read so far:
I have to say, I'm surprised by how strongly the statement condemns cohabitation, as well as how strongly I reacted to that condemnation.
First, a semantic issue - that section's heading says it will address sexual relations outside of marriage, but then uses the word cohabitation throughout the rest of that segment, as though the two were interchangable. While it may be true that many who are cohabiting are also sleeping together, it's not true of everybody - yet everybody who lives together outside of marriage is condemned, the way I read this statement.
Second, a justice issue - in the section on marriage, the statement clearly affirms the traditional definition of marriage to be a lifelong covenant between a man and a woman. Thus, such strong condemnation of cohabitation seems to me like a back-door way of condemning homosexual relationships (which would, by the definitions laid out in the document, merely be cohabiting).
Third, an outreach issue - we keep saying we want to reach out to the young adults who are noticiably absent in our congregations. The hard facts on the ground tell us that many of these young adults have, are, or will live together outside the bonds of holy matrimony. So, what, are we reaching out only to slap them in the face? That's a great invitation.
Fourth, a personal issue - as the child of a broken marriage and a very nasty, protracted divorce, I understand the impulse to "test the waters," the desire to live with someone for a while before you commit yourself to them for life, I understand the logic that says it's better to make a short-term mistake than a lifelong one. I think a lot of young adults carry some similar emtional baggage, and that is part of what is driving the trend in cohabitation. So, given that I share in my generation's "issues" and attitudes toward marriage, given that, were it not for being a pastor, I myself might insist on a trial period of cohabitation before tying the knot (and fully believe it is possible to do so chastely) - how can I cast this stone? I can't. Not without being a huge hypocrite.
So those are my biggest critiques thus far. In fairness, I'm sure the conservatives in the church are also going to gripe that the document is a tacit acceptance of homosexual relationships, since it affirms that the church is called to minister to all of God's children, and one possible way of ministry "will call our same-gender-oriented brothers and sisters in Christ to establish relationships that are chaste, mutual, monogamous, and life-long. These relationships are to be held to the same rigorous standards and sexual ethics as all others."
So, once again it seems we've managed to come up with a document that includes a little bit of something for everybody to hate! I'll be curious to see how the debates unfold.
I also had to laugh out loud at the section that affirmed singleness, particularly the part that said "It [the church] recognizes
that unmarried members, single or otherwise, have distinctive forms of commitment to and reliance upon friends,
family members, coworkers, and the fellowship of Christ." Yeah, that's why the ELCA keeps sending its young single pastors to live in isolation, often in rural areas, though sometimes, pardoxically, in the midst of major cities, but in both cases, far from the family and friends to whom they are committed and upon whom they so distinctly rely (and I say that as one of the lucky ones who landed 20 minutes away from her best friend - my outrage is on behalf of my not-so-lucky friends and colleagues who bravely continue to serve God and create a life out of a rather lonely existence with virtually no thanks to or help from the wider church).
So, I'm sure I'll have more to say once I've actually read through the whole document, start to finish. But I'm curious to hear other reactions, especially from you fellow Lutherans. Leave a comment here, write on your own blog, send me an e-mail, but consider yourself tagged.
Peace,
Catrina
PS - In the good news department, the sunglasses have been found, they fell out of my pocket at the Stone's house. They are now safely back at my house, where they patiently await my next attempt to lose them.
So, these are some initial reactions based on what I have read so far:
I have to say, I'm surprised by how strongly the statement condemns cohabitation, as well as how strongly I reacted to that condemnation.
First, a semantic issue - that section's heading says it will address sexual relations outside of marriage, but then uses the word cohabitation throughout the rest of that segment, as though the two were interchangable. While it may be true that many who are cohabiting are also sleeping together, it's not true of everybody - yet everybody who lives together outside of marriage is condemned, the way I read this statement.
Second, a justice issue - in the section on marriage, the statement clearly affirms the traditional definition of marriage to be a lifelong covenant between a man and a woman. Thus, such strong condemnation of cohabitation seems to me like a back-door way of condemning homosexual relationships (which would, by the definitions laid out in the document, merely be cohabiting).
Third, an outreach issue - we keep saying we want to reach out to the young adults who are noticiably absent in our congregations. The hard facts on the ground tell us that many of these young adults have, are, or will live together outside the bonds of holy matrimony. So, what, are we reaching out only to slap them in the face? That's a great invitation.
Fourth, a personal issue - as the child of a broken marriage and a very nasty, protracted divorce, I understand the impulse to "test the waters," the desire to live with someone for a while before you commit yourself to them for life, I understand the logic that says it's better to make a short-term mistake than a lifelong one. I think a lot of young adults carry some similar emtional baggage, and that is part of what is driving the trend in cohabitation. So, given that I share in my generation's "issues" and attitudes toward marriage, given that, were it not for being a pastor, I myself might insist on a trial period of cohabitation before tying the knot (and fully believe it is possible to do so chastely) - how can I cast this stone? I can't. Not without being a huge hypocrite.
So those are my biggest critiques thus far. In fairness, I'm sure the conservatives in the church are also going to gripe that the document is a tacit acceptance of homosexual relationships, since it affirms that the church is called to minister to all of God's children, and one possible way of ministry "will call our same-gender-oriented brothers and sisters in Christ to establish relationships that are chaste, mutual, monogamous, and life-long. These relationships are to be held to the same rigorous standards and sexual ethics as all others."
So, once again it seems we've managed to come up with a document that includes a little bit of something for everybody to hate! I'll be curious to see how the debates unfold.
I also had to laugh out loud at the section that affirmed singleness, particularly the part that said "It [the church] recognizes
that unmarried members, single or otherwise, have distinctive forms of commitment to and reliance upon friends,
family members, coworkers, and the fellowship of Christ." Yeah, that's why the ELCA keeps sending its young single pastors to live in isolation, often in rural areas, though sometimes, pardoxically, in the midst of major cities, but in both cases, far from the family and friends to whom they are committed and upon whom they so distinctly rely (and I say that as one of the lucky ones who landed 20 minutes away from her best friend - my outrage is on behalf of my not-so-lucky friends and colleagues who bravely continue to serve God and create a life out of a rather lonely existence with virtually no thanks to or help from the wider church).
So, I'm sure I'll have more to say once I've actually read through the whole document, start to finish. But I'm curious to hear other reactions, especially from you fellow Lutherans. Leave a comment here, write on your own blog, send me an e-mail, but consider yourself tagged.
Peace,
Catrina
PS - In the good news department, the sunglasses have been found, they fell out of my pocket at the Stone's house. They are now safely back at my house, where they patiently await my next attempt to lose them.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Sola, Sola, Sola
The latest unsolicited installment of the Word Alone "Network News" came sometime back between Thanksgiving and Christmas, which meant I didn't have time to look at it until more recently, which at least spared our secretary from my usual post-reading rant for a while.
What I found most interesting in this one was the announcement that Word Alone is launching its own publishing house, called Sola Publishing. I don't know why this surprises me, they've already held their own youth gatherings, started their own House of Studies, have their own call process that circumvents the ELCA's - clearly, Augsburg Fortress is too enmeshed in the ELCA's "liberal agenda" to produce decent resources, so why not start a Word Alone publishing house as well?
The name is taken from the Reformation battle cries: Sola Fide, Sola Gratia, Sola Scriptura (Faith Alone, Grace Alone, Scripture Alone), which is all well and good and clever, except that when you remove Fide, Gratia, and Scriptura, all you're left with is ALONE.
Which is a crummy (not to mention, anti-body of Christ) thing to be.
And yet, it seems what the Word Alone folks are inevtiably heading for. Because already they are factioning off even further - there's Word Alone (allegedly a reform movement within the ELCA), there's Lutheran Churches in Mission for Christ (churches that have already left the ELCA and formed their own national body), and according to the seniors I was talking to last spring, there's some new fangled Augustana synod for those who are ticked at Word Alone. And that's just the ones I know about. Who knows how many other fractions and factions are out there.
But that's the thing about being so terribly convinced of your own rightness and righteousness, is that you have to keep backing up and drawing another line in the sand to separate yourself from those who would compromise your dogma or your conscience. Live like that and it doesn't take long to find yourself boxed into a corner, utterly alone.
And the whole thing just makes me sad, because that's not at all what we as children of God are created or called or envisioned to be; it makes me sad because there are people within this movement, good people, people I once considered mentors and friends, who keep backing themselves away.
Sigh. . .
Sola Pax,
Catrina
What I found most interesting in this one was the announcement that Word Alone is launching its own publishing house, called Sola Publishing. I don't know why this surprises me, they've already held their own youth gatherings, started their own House of Studies, have their own call process that circumvents the ELCA's - clearly, Augsburg Fortress is too enmeshed in the ELCA's "liberal agenda" to produce decent resources, so why not start a Word Alone publishing house as well?
The name is taken from the Reformation battle cries: Sola Fide, Sola Gratia, Sola Scriptura (Faith Alone, Grace Alone, Scripture Alone), which is all well and good and clever, except that when you remove Fide, Gratia, and Scriptura, all you're left with is ALONE.
Which is a crummy (not to mention, anti-body of Christ) thing to be.
And yet, it seems what the Word Alone folks are inevtiably heading for. Because already they are factioning off even further - there's Word Alone (allegedly a reform movement within the ELCA), there's Lutheran Churches in Mission for Christ (churches that have already left the ELCA and formed their own national body), and according to the seniors I was talking to last spring, there's some new fangled Augustana synod for those who are ticked at Word Alone. And that's just the ones I know about. Who knows how many other fractions and factions are out there.
But that's the thing about being so terribly convinced of your own rightness and righteousness, is that you have to keep backing up and drawing another line in the sand to separate yourself from those who would compromise your dogma or your conscience. Live like that and it doesn't take long to find yourself boxed into a corner, utterly alone.
And the whole thing just makes me sad, because that's not at all what we as children of God are created or called or envisioned to be; it makes me sad because there are people within this movement, good people, people I once considered mentors and friends, who keep backing themselves away.
Sigh. . .
Sola Pax,
Catrina
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Call them "Chuggles"?
This past week I finally fulfilled a long overdue date with Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I got the book for Christmas two years ago, but I knew once I started reading it, I would not be able to put it down, and I just haven't had that kind of time, to disappear into Hogwarts for 48 hours, until just a few days ago.
I already knew who was going to die, as a confirmation student accidentally blabbed that info to me before they realized I hadn't yet read the book. But I have to say, I'm still kind of in shock over who killed the deceased - I don't want to say more, lest I accidentally ruin the details for anyone, but suffice it to say, I am still disturbed and brewing over how that all shook down.
And I also find myself, as I do after watching the Star Wars saga, somewhat jealous of the characters' abilities and gadgets, because in many respects I think we have similar callings. Ok, granted, I do not personally face immanent mortal peril nearly so often as Harry or Obi-Wan, but I do still deal with matters of life and death on a regular basis. And we are all three of us stewards and ministers of a powerful and mysterious force that holds the universe together; we are all three of us constantly on the frontlines of the battle between good and evil (and most often employ sacrifice and love as our weapons of choice in that battle). And like the Jedi, pastors are called to a certain Zen-like detachment from particular places and people in order that we might better love all of God's children and be free to serve the universal church.
So we're all basically fighting the good fight, but they get such way cooler perks - a lightsaber, a wand, a flying broomstick, the ability to move objects or even themselves with their trained mind. . .I get health insurance and a pension plan.
(which, especially in this day and age, I'm certainly grateful for, but they don't hum when you wave them around in the air, and on most days, don't seem nearly as useful as the ability to apparate)
But I digress.
The "chuggles" in the title above is inspired by reading Harry Potter just a few days after Christmas - just a few days after the "C&Es" (short for "Christmas and Easter Christians") have made their annual or semi-annual pilgrimmage to church.
Now, perhaps I am lacking in my sympathetic imagination here, but I suspect the people who only show up once or twice a year come more for the sake of grandma, or nostalgia, or tradition, than they do out of any expectation of encountering the divine. Which is just weird to me, because my understanding of worship is that it's an intentional encounter with God in a place where God has promised to be found. And I'm not just blithering around up front, going off on my own opinions, or giving a nice speech, or trying to uplift or edify the people - I'm charged with both the burden and the gift of bringing the good news, I'm (hopefully) handing over a word of life from God that you can cling to in a world full of death. And I fully believe that the Word of God, though it may travel a wide and circuitous route, always, ultimately, bears fruit, it never returns to God empty. So, I'm just kind of confused by people who don't share this understanding, who don't come to worship with these same expectations to encounter God and the living Word - and I find myself wondering what they do expect, and why they bother coming at all?
(I should clarify at this point, that I'm not trying to pick on C&Es - I have met plenty of people who are regularly in the pews, and sadly, even a few colleagues, who also seem to lack any expectations of an actual encounter with the divine through the Word and the Sacraments - and I often wonder the same things about them)
And I also wonder, then, what these folks day-to-day lives are like. Because if you don't expect to meet God in a place where God has promised to be found and where you have actually bothered showing up - do you honestly expect to meet God anywhere at all? Again, I could simply be lacking a charitable imagination here, but I suspect the answer, for most, is no. Which is, again, just weird to me, whose world is infused with the divine, who sees God on the loose as much in the New York City subway as in the purple mountain's majesty, as much in a Puccini aria as in Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip.
So, I'm thinking perhaps a new sociological category is in order, dubbed "Chuggles" - people who claim affiliation with the Christian faith but who are as void of any expectation of meeting, as oblivious to the actual presence of, the divine, as the muggles of Harry Potter are to the magical.
The good news is, I don't think it's a doomed "once a chuggle, always a chuggle" situation. I think people can learn to expect to meet God in the places God has promised to be found, I even think they can have their hearts and minds and ears and eyes broken open to see God running loose in all sorts of unexpected places in the world.
The question, the great challenge before us who steward such immense mysteries, is HOW? How do we de-chuggle or un-chuggle a person? And how much more fun would it be if lightsabers or flying broomsticks were involved? :)
Peace,
Catrina
I already knew who was going to die, as a confirmation student accidentally blabbed that info to me before they realized I hadn't yet read the book. But I have to say, I'm still kind of in shock over who killed the deceased - I don't want to say more, lest I accidentally ruin the details for anyone, but suffice it to say, I am still disturbed and brewing over how that all shook down.
And I also find myself, as I do after watching the Star Wars saga, somewhat jealous of the characters' abilities and gadgets, because in many respects I think we have similar callings. Ok, granted, I do not personally face immanent mortal peril nearly so often as Harry or Obi-Wan, but I do still deal with matters of life and death on a regular basis. And we are all three of us stewards and ministers of a powerful and mysterious force that holds the universe together; we are all three of us constantly on the frontlines of the battle between good and evil (and most often employ sacrifice and love as our weapons of choice in that battle). And like the Jedi, pastors are called to a certain Zen-like detachment from particular places and people in order that we might better love all of God's children and be free to serve the universal church.
So we're all basically fighting the good fight, but they get such way cooler perks - a lightsaber, a wand, a flying broomstick, the ability to move objects or even themselves with their trained mind. . .I get health insurance and a pension plan.
(which, especially in this day and age, I'm certainly grateful for, but they don't hum when you wave them around in the air, and on most days, don't seem nearly as useful as the ability to apparate)
But I digress.
The "chuggles" in the title above is inspired by reading Harry Potter just a few days after Christmas - just a few days after the "C&Es" (short for "Christmas and Easter Christians") have made their annual or semi-annual pilgrimmage to church.
Now, perhaps I am lacking in my sympathetic imagination here, but I suspect the people who only show up once or twice a year come more for the sake of grandma, or nostalgia, or tradition, than they do out of any expectation of encountering the divine. Which is just weird to me, because my understanding of worship is that it's an intentional encounter with God in a place where God has promised to be found. And I'm not just blithering around up front, going off on my own opinions, or giving a nice speech, or trying to uplift or edify the people - I'm charged with both the burden and the gift of bringing the good news, I'm (hopefully) handing over a word of life from God that you can cling to in a world full of death. And I fully believe that the Word of God, though it may travel a wide and circuitous route, always, ultimately, bears fruit, it never returns to God empty. So, I'm just kind of confused by people who don't share this understanding, who don't come to worship with these same expectations to encounter God and the living Word - and I find myself wondering what they do expect, and why they bother coming at all?
(I should clarify at this point, that I'm not trying to pick on C&Es - I have met plenty of people who are regularly in the pews, and sadly, even a few colleagues, who also seem to lack any expectations of an actual encounter with the divine through the Word and the Sacraments - and I often wonder the same things about them)
And I also wonder, then, what these folks day-to-day lives are like. Because if you don't expect to meet God in a place where God has promised to be found and where you have actually bothered showing up - do you honestly expect to meet God anywhere at all? Again, I could simply be lacking a charitable imagination here, but I suspect the answer, for most, is no. Which is, again, just weird to me, whose world is infused with the divine, who sees God on the loose as much in the New York City subway as in the purple mountain's majesty, as much in a Puccini aria as in Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip.
So, I'm thinking perhaps a new sociological category is in order, dubbed "Chuggles" - people who claim affiliation with the Christian faith but who are as void of any expectation of meeting, as oblivious to the actual presence of, the divine, as the muggles of Harry Potter are to the magical.
The good news is, I don't think it's a doomed "once a chuggle, always a chuggle" situation. I think people can learn to expect to meet God in the places God has promised to be found, I even think they can have their hearts and minds and ears and eyes broken open to see God running loose in all sorts of unexpected places in the world.
The question, the great challenge before us who steward such immense mysteries, is HOW? How do we de-chuggle or un-chuggle a person? And how much more fun would it be if lightsabers or flying broomsticks were involved? :)
Peace,
Catrina
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Mind the Gap
Sorry for the long delay in writing. I went to Minnesota for Thanksgiving, and between the getting ready for vacation, the being on vacation, and the catching up from vacation, well, there hasn't been much time for blogging.
But now I'm back with some half-baked thoughts that have been kicking around my head for the past month or so. It all started the week before vacation, when I went out to lunch with a parishioner who I am mentoring through our synod's Authorized Lay Worship Leader program. When our food came, she volunteered to pray (so nice to go to lunch with someone who doesn't assume that I am the "token pray-er"!), so we bowed our heads and she said the following:
"For Food in a world where many walk in hunger,
For Faith in a world where many walk in fear,
and for Friends in a world where many walk alone,
We give you thanks"
And I looked up and said "That's Keith's prayer from Six Feet Under!"
We were both, frankly, kind of surprised to find a fellow fan in one another, but we quickly moved beyond that and into an engaging conversation about what a well-written and thought-provoking television show that it is, and how many incredible discussions of life and death and faith it could launch, EXCEPT. . .
. . .except there is always too much graphic language and sex for me to be able to use it as a resource at church. I mean, I have some parishioners whose piety is such that they would be offended at the mere thought of their pastor watching a show like Six Feet Under - there's no way they would tolerate showing it or using it as the basis for a small group study at church. And yet I've obviously got other parishioners who are watching it and would love to have a group with which to discuss some of those deep meaning of life and death questions that it raises.
So this is a constant frustration for me - because I could write entire small group studies on the theology of Six Feet Under, or the Dave Matthews Band, or the Star Wars saga, or other such pop culture phenomena where I see God on the loose. And I have this nagging feeling that to do so would be to meet a lot of the unchurched and de-churched of my generation where they are at. But those kinds of studies aren't going to appeal to the vast majority of my current parishioners.
So do I serve the majority of the congregation to which I am called? Or do I reach out to serve and engage the whole people of God (isn't that also part of my calling)? And if I do go for broke one day and offer up a "God running loose in pop culture" kind of study, how in the world do I find and convince the people who would most dig it to take part?
So then when I was on vacation, I went to worship at the Mercy Seat, a new church plant in NE Minneapolis that seems to be very intentionally reaching out to the de-churched/unchurched/disenfranchised by the church/disillusioned by the church, and engaging them through "critical orthodoxy." The service was very solid liturgical worship, essentially the same texts and ordo as the LBW, but in an improvisational jazz medium. The sermon was excellent, a thoughtful well-crafted proclamation, thoroughly grounded in the theology of the cross, that skillfully wove deep theological insights with illustrations from The Simpsons and references to a Jesus who "goes all the way to 11" (and the congregation actually got and laughed at that line!). Their announcements included a plug for their stewardship pledge drive, a hilarious and ingenious campaign to "stop the hostile takeover" - they claimed that a multinational corporation was threatening to buy the congregation and outsource the sacraments unless they could "prove their viability" through 50 pledging households.
My impresion of this congregation is that it is very intentionally rooting itself in the best and most essential core of the Lutheran tradition while also very intentionally engaging not-so-traditionally-churchy people at the intersection of art and faith and culture. In other words, it is a church that could get away with, and would have an audience for, a Six Feet Under small group study.
Which makes it very hard not to be jealous of those pastors and the kind of work they get to do and the kind of sermons they get to preach, EXCEPT. . .
. . .except I refuse to believe that the only solution to my frustrations is to head to Chicago for mission start training and start up a completely new congregation. I mean, it's certainly easier in some respects to be creating a congregational culture as you go, instead of trying to retradition and reform longstanding cultures that you inherit. And it's probably easier to convince the disenfranchised and disillusioned to come and see in a group that's rather new and somewhat different, than a group that looks and sounds and acts an awful lot like the church that disenfranchised or disillusioned them to begin with.
But we are called to be one body in Christ. And it is one of the greatest strengths - and gifts - of the church to hold people of widely divergent backgrounds and opinions and interests together AS the one body of Christ. So I keep thinking, there's got to be a way to bridge the traditionally churched and all those who are de-churched, unchurched, disillusioned and/or disenfranchised by the church. I refuse to settle for an either/or answer - I keep thinking there's got to be a both/and, there's got to be a way to draw them all into community together.
So, I keep looking for ways to mind the gap, tending to both the now and the not yet, caring for the church as it currently is, and caring for the church that the Holy Spirit is even now birthing us to be.
Peace,
Catrina
But now I'm back with some half-baked thoughts that have been kicking around my head for the past month or so. It all started the week before vacation, when I went out to lunch with a parishioner who I am mentoring through our synod's Authorized Lay Worship Leader program. When our food came, she volunteered to pray (so nice to go to lunch with someone who doesn't assume that I am the "token pray-er"!), so we bowed our heads and she said the following:
"For Food in a world where many walk in hunger,
For Faith in a world where many walk in fear,
and for Friends in a world where many walk alone,
We give you thanks"
And I looked up and said "That's Keith's prayer from Six Feet Under!"
We were both, frankly, kind of surprised to find a fellow fan in one another, but we quickly moved beyond that and into an engaging conversation about what a well-written and thought-provoking television show that it is, and how many incredible discussions of life and death and faith it could launch, EXCEPT. . .
. . .except there is always too much graphic language and sex for me to be able to use it as a resource at church. I mean, I have some parishioners whose piety is such that they would be offended at the mere thought of their pastor watching a show like Six Feet Under - there's no way they would tolerate showing it or using it as the basis for a small group study at church. And yet I've obviously got other parishioners who are watching it and would love to have a group with which to discuss some of those deep meaning of life and death questions that it raises.
So this is a constant frustration for me - because I could write entire small group studies on the theology of Six Feet Under, or the Dave Matthews Band, or the Star Wars saga, or other such pop culture phenomena where I see God on the loose. And I have this nagging feeling that to do so would be to meet a lot of the unchurched and de-churched of my generation where they are at. But those kinds of studies aren't going to appeal to the vast majority of my current parishioners.
So do I serve the majority of the congregation to which I am called? Or do I reach out to serve and engage the whole people of God (isn't that also part of my calling)? And if I do go for broke one day and offer up a "God running loose in pop culture" kind of study, how in the world do I find and convince the people who would most dig it to take part?
So then when I was on vacation, I went to worship at the Mercy Seat, a new church plant in NE Minneapolis that seems to be very intentionally reaching out to the de-churched/unchurched/disenfranchised by the church/disillusioned by the church, and engaging them through "critical orthodoxy." The service was very solid liturgical worship, essentially the same texts and ordo as the LBW, but in an improvisational jazz medium. The sermon was excellent, a thoughtful well-crafted proclamation, thoroughly grounded in the theology of the cross, that skillfully wove deep theological insights with illustrations from The Simpsons and references to a Jesus who "goes all the way to 11" (and the congregation actually got and laughed at that line!). Their announcements included a plug for their stewardship pledge drive, a hilarious and ingenious campaign to "stop the hostile takeover" - they claimed that a multinational corporation was threatening to buy the congregation and outsource the sacraments unless they could "prove their viability" through 50 pledging households.
My impresion of this congregation is that it is very intentionally rooting itself in the best and most essential core of the Lutheran tradition while also very intentionally engaging not-so-traditionally-churchy people at the intersection of art and faith and culture. In other words, it is a church that could get away with, and would have an audience for, a Six Feet Under small group study.
Which makes it very hard not to be jealous of those pastors and the kind of work they get to do and the kind of sermons they get to preach, EXCEPT. . .
. . .except I refuse to believe that the only solution to my frustrations is to head to Chicago for mission start training and start up a completely new congregation. I mean, it's certainly easier in some respects to be creating a congregational culture as you go, instead of trying to retradition and reform longstanding cultures that you inherit. And it's probably easier to convince the disenfranchised and disillusioned to come and see in a group that's rather new and somewhat different, than a group that looks and sounds and acts an awful lot like the church that disenfranchised or disillusioned them to begin with.
But we are called to be one body in Christ. And it is one of the greatest strengths - and gifts - of the church to hold people of widely divergent backgrounds and opinions and interests together AS the one body of Christ. So I keep thinking, there's got to be a way to bridge the traditionally churched and all those who are de-churched, unchurched, disillusioned and/or disenfranchised by the church. I refuse to settle for an either/or answer - I keep thinking there's got to be a both/and, there's got to be a way to draw them all into community together.
So, I keep looking for ways to mind the gap, tending to both the now and the not yet, caring for the church as it currently is, and caring for the church that the Holy Spirit is even now birthing us to be.
Peace,
Catrina
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