Friday, December 21, 2012

A Christmas Wish

Christmas has become a time for wishes, of dreaming about things that we want. Sadly, Christmas has become more about us, and less about the One whose arrival it is supposed to celebrate. We wish one another a Merry Christmas, probably without stopping to think what it means to say that. The child who arrived in our world so long ago did not remain a child. Nor did he say what people wanted, or expected, him to say. He walked a difficult road, thought about others almost exclusively, and allowed his life to be taken from him, on behalf of others. This is the One we should be celebrating this holiday season. But, alas, it is not. I watched a news program last night that encouraged people to buy more gifts, even if they did not have the money, so that the economy could flourish. I read in today's paper that not one of our local government officials thinks that any new gun laws should be passed in the wake of the Newtown tragedy. It is so easy to become discouraged these days, because it seems that, for many who call themselves Christian, the faith means some form of patriotic affirmation, not a prophetic proclamation. But I remain an optimist, and believe that the Christian message will come to its full fruition someday. I doubt that I will live to see it, but, perhaps something I do in my life will give someone else the energy and inspiration to keep on keeping on. I know that is what keeps me going. I can think of so many whose example of selfless service and true devotion to the cause of the Christian faith have inspired me. I do believe that the message of Christmas is a life- changing and world-renewing one. So, in wishing you a Merry Christmas, I am affirming that God is still at work, in you and me. Therefore, hope endures and it is a good holiday season. Peace to you and yours, and may you, and I, never get comfortable with our faith.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Advent Hope

It so happens that I will be conducting a funeral in Rooke Chapel this weekend. I thought back to my days serving a small parish in Western Pennsylvania, and it seemed that we always had a number of funerals in December. As a matter of fact, some of the most tragic, or funerals of people with whom I was close, took place at this time of year. How sad to have a funeral in Advent. Or is it? Well, from a human relations point of view, any funeral, any loss, is hard for anyone, no matter what time of year it occurs. But it can seem especially difficult during this time of year, when everyone is making Christmas preparations. Is there a word of grace for those who experience loss during the holiday season? Yes, I believe that there is. Advent is a time of preparation when Christians are called upon to examine the depth of their faith: "What do I expect from the Messiah? Do I believe that the Messiah has indeed come? Was Jesus the one, or are we to wait for another?" Although grief can make us numb for quite some time, it is still appropriate to speak words of hope. The One promised from God has come, and will come again to fulfill the promise that the Kingdon of God will, finally, come upon the earth. So, we are to be vigilant, aware, lest we miss Him. If anything, when speaking to someone who has experienced a loss during Advent, we can remind them that God has not forgotten us, or them. Christmas is confirmation that God chose not to abandon an unfaithful people, but rather, that God chose to come and be among us, as one of us. And God's beloved one also died. So, there is no pain that we can experience that God has not also experienced. This Advent and Christmas season can be a time in which we can all listen for the voice of the One crying in the wilderness: "Prepare the way of the Lord!" We can help to prepare the way for Him by standing with those who are experiencing grief, or loss this holiday season. It is not enough to pray for them, we must stand with them, so that they can more fearlessly find a safe and quiet place of their own in which to listen for the One who is to come.The darkness is less threatening when we have a friend to walk through it with us.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Would the Prince of Peace Be For or Against Gun Control?

Now that I have your attention, I admit that the question asked above is foolish. How can we project our societal ills back over two-thousand years? Sadly, folks on many sides of all manner of social issues have been doing just that for years. Since Jesus had no idea what a gun is since guns did not exist back then, nor did gun powder, the question is moot. But if we ask whether Jesus would approve of our bent towards violence, the question becomes at least a bit easier to address. Jesus did address the concept of violence on more than one occasion: there is the infamous "Turn the other cheek" reference, as well as his dressing down of the disciple who took a sword and cut off the ear of the Roman soldier in the garden. I have to wonder, though, if Jesus was to appear in the flesh and ask if we have any questions, and we ask what he thinks of violence, just what would his response be? Would he shake his head and walk away, as if we should not even have to ask the question? Would he admit that times have changed greatly since his time on earth and so the ways we must protect ourselves also have to change? I imagine that any one of us could fashion a response by Jesus that would suit our world view. But the truth is, we cannot command him to appear and have it happen. So, the best we can do is to seek to understand truly what he taught, and then do our best to apply it to our lives. So, when I say that I am opposed to private ownership of guns, which I am, I cannot claim that Jesus told me to hold that opinion. However, I can say that I cannot reconcile the personal possession of a handgun with the Gospel of peace as I understand it. You can disagree with me, and we can call it a draw. But each one of us will walk away convinced that his or her view is the correct one. During this season when we prepare to welcome the Prince of Peace, I think it is a good time to think about our propensity toward violence in all forms. We have lost a salient part of the message of the Christ, and it is probably easier to argue about whose opinion is the correct one than it is to work to arrive at what will prove to be God's will. Of course, that is subjective as well, so there would have to be some manner of measuring whose way is the one connected to God's will. How about this one: the violence stops!

Friday, November 16, 2012

The Opposite of Love. Mark 13:1-8

William Sloane Coffin once remarked that the opposite of love is not hate, but fear. I kept encountering that sentiment this week as I prepared to preach on Mark's "Little Apocalypse." I gained a familiarity with apocalyptic literature in college, when a professor suggested that I write a paper looking at hints of apocalypticism in the book of Zechariah. I was hooked, and the genre never scared me again. Students have often asked if we could study the Book of Revelation together. Actually, they usually ask if we can study "Revelations" and I tell them no, but we can study Revelation. Anyway, they come in hoping to encounter spooky ghosts and goblins, and leave having gained an understanding of the ways in which people who face trials and who are fearful have expressed their hopes and fears. Mark's account has Jesus' disciples expressing fears and asking when the end times will be. Jesus does not answer their question, other than to warn them that lots of folks will try to convince them that they know the details about the end times. He tells them that they ought not to worry about those folks, but should remain alert. So, what does that mean? Let's go back to that concept of love. When I was a small boy, I became lost in a department store. It was not a large store, but to me, at that age, it was a foreign land. I can still feel the sense of panic I felt when I realized that I had become separated from my mother. I recall, as well, the immense sense of relief I felt when I found her. Can that not be the sense we get when we believe in a God who is always there, including in the scary times? I seems easier for folks to believe in the doom coming with the end of the Mayan calendar in December, or the latest prediction of the end of the world, now slated for 2013. And plenty of people are just scared by uncertainty, whether economic or personal. When we become afraid we will reach for any branch when we are falling. Why are we afraid? Don't we believe in the One whom God sent to alleviate our fear and to show us how to love? When we love, and are loved, we are less fearful. And, if I understand Jesus' directive about looking for the end times correctly, we are to be aware, and we are to be taking care of one another in the meantime. The writer of the First Letter of John tells us that perfect love casts out fear. If we love more, we will fear less. So, what are we waiting for?

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Enough Already!

Well, the election is over, and some are relieved and others are heartsick. I respect people's right to disagree about politics, and I even encourage it. But I draw the line at those who continue to say that God's will was subverted and that America has decided that it does not want to be a faithful nation for another four years. Just today I have read two statements by two clergy that seem to indicate that real Christians would have never voted for President Obama.I have to be honest: I was disappointed in Obama's first term, with some of the decisions that he made, or did not make. He was, to my way of thinking, too timid. But he pushed through healthcare for all Americans, and advocated for the full rights of all people, including members of the GLBT community. Sorry for my friends who will be disappointed to hear me say it, but I think those and other decisions are wholly keeping with what Christian faith is all about. I AM a Christian, and I DID vote for Democratic candidates. I did so, not because they are perfect or because they have all of the answers. I did so because I feel that they, at least, really do have a philosophy and real-politic that favors the poor and middle class. Since when did advocacy for fair housing, assistance for the poor and hungry, and the inclusion of ALL people become anti-Christian activities? When I registered to vote, I chose the party of my parents. That lasted through two presidential voting cycles, and then I realized that I did not share the values of my party. As a Christian I will always go with those who advocate for the outsiders, who don't just accept the status quo as good enough. Both political parties are corrupt, and I long for a serious third party. But our system will never allow that, so we have to make the best of what we have. I will no longer remain silent when another Christian derides me or anyone else who is anti-gun violence, pro-choice, anti-death penalty, pro-human rights for all, in favor of universal health care and against our bloated defense budget. Those are not political decisions, they are decisions that reflect my beliefs as a Christian. I do not agree with other Christians who take opposing stands, but I will never question their commitment to their faith, and they need to stop questioning mine. I have read the scriptures and the creeds and traditions of the Church. I stand on solid ground! I have had enough.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Hold Your Head High! Mark 12: 38-44

The Gospel for this coming Sunday comes from Mark 12:38-44, the story of the widow's mite. Jesus commented on the contrast between the priests in their long, flowing robes, and the poor woman who came forward and placed her offering in the collection box. He was impressed because she contributed out of her poverty, not out of plenty. I think I had always envisioned the woman as beaten down by life, and meekly coming forth, looking at the ground, as she placed her offering in the box, and then quickly walking away. But then I thought about parishioners I have known, and I can think of several, male and female, who fit the description of the poor widow. The people whom I have known did not approach church timidly, and did not hide when the offering plate came 'round, but contributed proudly, from their hearts. In my first parish, no one in the church could have been considered wealthy, and yet, the church paid its bills. I remember being embarrassed by the generosity of the people towards me, their young pastor. Christmas and birthday gifts of cash, and wedding gifts for my wife and me. And when our daughter was born, quilts and handmade dolls and cash came our way. These people were proud of their community and their church, and they were not ashamed of their stations in life. They were simple people, capable of great love. So, remembering their example, I think that the poor woman in Mark's tale walked confidently to the offering box, and dropped in her coin, and did not look at the ground, but walked confidently, knowing she had given all that she could give. In her heart, at least, she had no reason to feel like a second-class citizen, even though, in that time and place, she most certainly was treated as one. We need to remember that, in the eyes of God, our best is often good enough. And that assurance can enable us to do great things.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

All Saints and All saints

Protestant Christians don't have an easy time talking about saints. We aren't quite sure how much we should get into the whole subject. We are pretty sure we are not supposed to pray to them, but we do find ourselves transfixed by the stories of their lives. Having some Irish ancestry, I have always been fond of St. Patrick. Of course, lots of drunken Americans become very fond of him on March 17th, so nothing new there. But there are Saints, and there are saints. The Saints are those deemed worthy by the Roman Catholic Church to be exalted above most of the rest of us. However, saints are more plentiful, and each of us has known at least one. Frederick Buechner once described saints this way: In his holy flirtation with the world, God occasionally drops a handkerchief. These handkerchiefs are called saints. Granted, the imagery of flirting by dropping a handkerchief is from a by-gone era, but we get the point. Saints, with a small "s" are people we all have known: the kind lady next door, the gentleman who offered to mow your lawn when you were ill, the teenager who offered to help with a project. On All Saints Day, all members of the Christian Church, Protestant and Catholic, honor and name the saints who have died in the past year. We name family members, neighbors, friends. We name them so as not to forget them, or their examples. My father's funeral was a Catholic mass. The priest said that we should pray to Sam, my dad, and he would intercede for us. Well, I appreciated the kind thought, but my theology does not extend that far. Besides, my dad was anything but an observant Catholic. However, he was a man capable of great generosity, both of spirit and of materials. He was a very hard-working, decent guy who was very honest. He usually expected too much of we kids, but I think it was because he expected so much of himself. He was not an overtly religious person and certainly he was not perfect. But, he was a saint, because he sought to make his corner of the world a better place and he did believe in God's love being extended. Such is the type of person we will remember on All Saints Day. So, think of your favorite saint, small "s" and mention that individual's name when asked in church this Sunday.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

What if You Were Jerry's Chaplain?

With one phase of the Jerry Sandusky travesty drawing to a close with his life sentence, I have been bothered by a persistent question: What if I was Jerry's chaplain? During my college days, I thought that I wanted to be a prison chaplain. That lasted until I actually visited a maximum security penitentiary, as a part of a Christian singing group, my junior year. The image of hopelessness that I saw in the eyes of one of the inmates, a man about my age, has never left me. What could he have done to be in that place at such a young age? Would could any chaplain have said to him to give him hope? And what can any chaplain say to Jerry Sandusky? The man will not accept responsibility for the horrors that he perpetrated on legions of young boys. Ok, that's the part we all know and acknowledge. Here is the hard part: Jesus would say that Jerry Sandusky is a child of God. He is a very bad example of a child, and he has destroyed lives and blames others for his misfortune. It would be so easy to hate him. But that does not alter, for a moment, that he is God's child. His prison chaplain will be charged with offering pastoral care, and the sacraments to him. Can his chaplain cut through his denial to a point where Sandusky admits to his terrible crimes and prepares the way for sincere repentance? Well, if the gospel is to be believed, the answer must be yes. But would you want to be that chaplain? Would I? Isn't it easier to hate him from a distance than to try to figure out a way to think of him as a child of God? Jesus loved the unlovable, and never closed the door on anyone. Jerry Sandusky shares my United Methodist heritage. There is a pastor or chaplain somewhere who will have to work with Sandusky to seek to recover some trace of God's goodness in the man. Pray for that pastor. Pray for all of Sandusky's victims and their families. And, this is the hardest part, pray for Jerry Sandusky. To do any less is to doubt that God can do what Jesus said God can do. And that, according to some scholars, is what Jesus referred to as the unpardonable sin.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Counting Our Blessings

I just finished reading Have a Little Faith: A True Story by Mitch Albom. I didn't expect to enjoy it as much as I did. In the book, Albom describes the journey he took after his childhood rabbi, Albert Lewis, contacted him and asked to see him. Albom had not seen the rabbi in years, but complied. When they met, Rabbi Lewis told Albom that he wanted him to deliver his eulogy. Not knowing what else to say, Albom agreed, but only on the condition that he could meet with the rabbi on a regular basis so that he could learn more about his life. And so they did that, for about ten years. Alongside the story of Al Lewis, Albom writes about Henry Covington, a person his age who grew up not far from him, though they were not friends. Covington's story was vastly different from that of Al Lewis, and involved lots of brushes with the law and finally a stretch in prison. He battled drug abuse and extreme poverty, but eventually became a preacher to a poor, crumbling church in Detroit. The book moves back and forth between the two men, one facing the end of his life, and the other finding his purpose in life. I was reminded when reading this book about how fortunate I am to have grown up in relative comfort, and that I have always had a fulltime job and a good home. As the story bounces back and forth between the life of Al Lewis and Henry Covington, one cannot but take a breath and think, "There but by the grace of God went I!" Al Lewis lived a very long and happy life, serving generations of his synagogue family. When he died, hundreds came to honor and pay tribute to his life and work. Henry Covington continues to serve a diverse array of members of his church: homeless, hungry and struggling folks. Albom was challenged, and ultimately, changed, through the work of both men. Reading the book is an experience in seeing both sides of the faith coin, realizing how our blessings in life obligate us to work that others may be blessed, as well.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

What Song Shall They Sing?

I attended a Rally Against Hate last night on campus, and was surprised at the variety of ways in which students expressed their belief in justice for all people. The poems, rants, and dramatic recitations gave power to their feelings, hopes and dreams. At the end, we adjourned outside to the Quad, and, holding glowsticks aloft, all were asked to join in singing the words to "We Shall Overcome." It was at that point I realized the chasm that exists between my generation and that of today's university students. Very few sang the words, because very few of them knew the words. The Civil Rights movement was contemporaneous with my birth, so I was a small boy for much of the activism. But I do remember hearing the words and tune to “We Shall Overcome” many times, as it was the anthem of the movement. It occurred to me during the rally that folks of the generation before me as well my own have not been very effective at passing on the songs, words and the spirit of the movement. I have been around college students for enough years to know that they feel passionately about justice and equality, and they have their own songs and artistic expressions to convey that passion. But the stories, the music and the spirit of the Civil Rights and Peace movements have not been conveyed to them in a way that enables them to incorporate them into their own movements. For students, each rally is a new event; there does not seem to be a sense of continuity from one generation to another. The same can be said for the necessity for continuity of our religious traditions and faith stories. Today's students do not possess a sense of urgency about such things, because those of us who have come before them have not conveyed it very well. As a result, we are playing catch-up, continually. It is not true that our young adults lack passion and a prophetic spirit. It may be true that those of us who know the stories have not been terribly effective in communicating them. So we must strive ever harder to convey the truth of the Gospel, whose mandate for justice provided the foundation for the Civil Rights and Peace movements. The story is there, it just needs us to continue proclaiming it. Otherwise, the stories that this generation of young adults pass on will be sadly, and irrevocably, incomplete.

Monday, October 1, 2012

Looking for Meaning

Whenever I read the passage from Mark 9:42-47,I am reminded of a terrible incident that happened in my hometown years ago. A young man, despondent over the breakup of his marriage, and high on drugs, took that passage literally. I won't recount here exactly what he did, but if you read the passage, you will get the idea. Several days after he mutilated himself, I was asked if I would agree to meet with his estranged wife and family, since I was serving a parish just a few miles away. I was working on my counseling degree at the time, but was not prepared for this situation, I assure you. I met with the family and they were horrified that "God would do such a thing" to someone. Getting past that unfortunate bit of theology took some time, and, near the end of the session, I realized what the real reason was for the family requesting a meeting with me. In his deluded state, the young man stated that he committed such an act of self-destruction because he wanted to go to heaven. It was what he said next that caused concern for his estranged wife and family: he wanted to take her to heaven with him. It was not my theological expertise (if one could call it that!) that they were seeking. They wanted some assurance that he could not come after his wife and harm her. Since he had been involuntarily committed to a psychiatric institute, I knew enough about state law at the time that I could assure them that he would not be getting out anytime soon. They breathed a huge sigh of relief and thanked me for my time. I was glad that the session was over, but I wished that they were as happy to know that God does not make people do such things as they were to learn a bit about the intricacies of mental health law. Then again, who could blame them? God's providential care may be most evident when it is understood in the context of actions that affect folks directly, for the better. I know that God did not will for that young man to disfigure himself in such a horrible way. But sometimes, we struggle to understand tragedy, and when we cannot understand, we attribute it simply to God's will. That seems to be more helpful in our minds than admitting to ourselves that we don't know why some things have to happen. In such an instance, God becomes the villain, instead of being the One who can be our comforter and advocate when we experience the tough times. Our sense of hurt and outrage may blind us to seeing God as anything other than an avenger when bad things happen. Perhaps if we can focus more on understanding God's presence as a constant in our day to day lives when things are going well, we will have built up the reserve of grace needed to get us through the tough times by believing that, though God did not cause the bad stuff, God remains with us as we go through it. Of course, if we insist on maintaining the attitude that God must not permit bad things to happen, ever, then there is no amount of reasoning that will suffice and we will refuse to be comforted.

Friday, September 21, 2012

Unthinkable Questions. Mark 9:30-37

This week's Gospel lesson has to do with yet another instance of the disciples not getting something that Jesus has said. Actually, if one reads Mark closely, the author seems to go to great lengths to show just how thick-headed the disciples could be at times. Jesus has told them, yet again, of his coming death and how such an act relates to what it means to be a suffering servant for the salvation of the world. OK, admit it, you don't like the sound of that anymore than did the disciples, right? Oh, we have the benefit of hindsight, so we can applaud the veracity of what Jesus has said and we are truly thankful for the sacrifice that he made for the whole world. But how many of us can admit that he or she does not fully understand that whole concept? After all, we are Christian people, so we are supposed to know the answers, right? Who told us that? Who told us that we should know the intricacies of our faith, that we should have figured out the mind of God by now? The disciples were afraid to allow their ignorance to show, so, instead of asking Jesus what all of the talk about suffering and death really meant, they diverted attention from what was really bothering them and began to posture for choice seats at the table. This week's scripture lesson came at a difficult time for me. A man in our chapel congregation died suddenly, leaving behind his wife and two young children. There was no warning, this man in his mid-forties just died in his sleep. As I presided at his funeral in the chapel, I could not avoid the gazes of those dear children, looking so innocent and somewhat puzzled at all that was transpiring around them. They knew their father had died, for he died at home. But this all seemed so incongruous to them, this service with adults speaking and everyone having somber faces. I dread the question that their mother will be asked on many occasions in the future from these children: why did Daddy have to die?" How does one respond but to say, "I don't know?" What will these children come to think about God? Is God the being who kills loving parents? What difference does believing in God make, if people we love are taken from us so young? The questions are as old as the world, and the answers do not come easily. We think we know the answers, and we argue about God's will, and some dismiss the existence of God in the face of such tragedies. We arrive at answers that work for us, answers that we can live with. Already, rumors are circulating within the rural community where this man lived as to what was the cause of his death. Never mind that the autopsy results won't be known for weeks, they are filling the void with chatter, and not innocent chatter, but their own answers that have the potential to hurt those who loved this man. And yet, some hope against hope that no one will sense the uncertainly that lies within their hearts and minds. For those who love gossip, no answer will suffice. But for those who have the courage to venture into the realm of uncertainty and fear, they can begin to gain some wisdom by asking God directly: why did this young father die and leave his wife and children so heartbroken? If we can muster the courage to ask such a question, we must also try to lay the foundation for the patience it will require to await an answer. We may have to wait an entire lifetime, and still, we may not have what we consider a satisfactory answer. At the funeral, several friends of the man spoke, talking about what he must be doing now in heaven, and how grand it is that he is reunited with lost loved ones. Such hopeful talk made it bearable and gave those sweet kids something to hold on to. But, the more difficult question will not go away, and they will need people of faith who will not shout down their questions which will not go away. They will need folks who share in their unknowing and who are not afraid to admit it. For it is only such friends as that who can stand with them in their searching and questioning and who can communicate something of the love of a God whose heart breaks along with theirs. It's not an answer, but it is a sign that God never forgets about any of God's loved ones. We can only come to that assurance by finding the strength to ask God the questions we have not dared ask. You know, those unthinkable questions.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

The Price of Calling Oneself a Follower John 6:56-69

I remember my first few months of college. I had become active in a Christian fellowship group, and we had neat buttons and slogans and such. It was the tail-end of the so-called "Jesus Movement" of the early 1970's. I recall going with a buddy of mine to the "Jesus Barn" to a prayer meeting. There were bales of hay, and people playing guitars and everyone was singing. It was just about perfect, especially when, during prayer requests, I raised my hand quite innocently, and then, during prayer, a pretty girl behind me laid her hand on my shoulder. There lots of pretty girls in the movement, though they seemed not to notice me at all.I remember returning to school the next fall and our little Christian fellowship group was at odds with itself. Some of the more spiritually "mature" members of the group were dictating what proper belief should be, and it fell to the group to figure out how these new dictum's applied to each member. For my part, I was not comfortable with some of things being required, especially when it came to an insistence that those who were truly saved should evidence the gift of speaking in tongues. It never came easily to me, and I never felt that it was something essential for my personal faith's journey. The breaking point for me came when two friends were intent on casting a demon out of a cassette tape, while I was trying to study for an Old Testament exam. They raised the window, anointed everything that didn't move with oil, and went into a fit of glossolalia that would have made the folks at the Tower of Babel marvel. After all of that, the cassette still would not work. Then one of them stuck a pencil eraser into one of the cogs, and it freed up the tape. A miracle! Never mind that I had suggested doing just that before the evening's activities began. My experience was not unlike many young people during that time of transition in our lives, and in the life of America. The pain and protest of the 60's had given way to the ennui of the 70's. Christian faith, at least in my circle, became a very private, and very self-centered affair. All I knew for certain was that what others told me must be the standard for my faith did not feel right to me. The next year I befriended our new college chaplain who insisted that Christian faith could not be separated from hard choices and social justice. This was very new for many of us, and he did not attract everyone in the Christian fellowship, but many of us saw something deep and rich that we had not found before his arrival. For us, he combined the energy of a lively spirituality with a tried and tested pragmatic faith. He influences me still, and my appreciation of God's justice springs from the things that he taught me. But I still do not perceive that the majority of Americans who identify loudly with the Christian faith embrace the difficult parts of the faith that Jesus talked about. Some of those things are not popular because they demand sacrifice and thinking in new ways about who God's people are. In John's gospel, a hoard of disciples abandoned Jesus until just twelve remained, and one of those would eventually leave to betray him. The Jesus Movement was a wonderful time in my life, even though it was a spiritually shallow one. At its best, it made me feel that my faith was alive and I was excited to be with others who shared the faith. At its worst, it made the faith all about me, and how superior I could be to others who did not agree with me. Now, Jesus felt that he was right, also had many who did not agree with him. So, what, you ask, is the difference? Well, Jesus pointed beyond himself to another and a totally different way of thinking about God and the world. It seems that, in some quarters of American Christianity, at least, those who witness to Christ cannot help but point to themselves and their accomplishments, and they are very happy with some of the injustices in the world that do not cause them to move out of their comfort zones. All that's missing is the hay bales.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Wisdom Builds Her House. If Only Our Leaders Would Follow!

This coming Sunday will mark my first chapel service at Bucknell University, where I began serving just two weeks ago. As it so happens, the lectionary gives us a choice of Hebrew Bible readings for that day, and I have chosen the Proverbs 9:1-6 passage. Since I will be addressing mostly first-year students on that day, I think it is appropriate to talk about what it means to be wise. According to the biblical understanding of the term, wisdom is knowledge coupled with insight. One cannot be thought of as wise unless one possesses both of these elements. I suppose that is what a philosophy professor from my first year in college meant when he used to remark that "there is no one more stupid than a young PhD!" Many times we mistake the accumulation of intellectual prowess for being wise. But wisdom can only come through life experiences. I don't claim to know much about most things, but I know so much more than I did when I was a young man, just out of divinity school. I am glad that I did not keep my sermons from those days, because I would probably accuse myself of malpractice! When I think about wisdom,I tend to think of people I have known who were, and are, what I consider to be wise. My neighbor when I was a little boy was an older woman who had little formal education, but who knew much about farming, canning vegetables and treating people as she herself wished to be treated. She created a safe space for me in her home, where I was always welcome, even when it may have been inconvenient for her. She had a tremendous impact on my spiritual development, even though we seldom discussed faith, even though she was a devout Christian. There have been others, but all of us can tell stories about people who have influenced our lives for the better. So why is it, then, that our political leaders cannot seem to figure out what wisdom is all about? I support one of the presidential candidates, but not the other. But I get angry when both of them behave badly and in an uncivil manner when they talk about the opposing candidate. Then again, they are giving the electorate exactly what it wants. We have no debates anymore, we have shouting matches. The presidential and vice-presidential televised debates will be nothing more than carefully scripted and pre-approved recitations of the party line. There is no wisdom in the political process, because wisdom builds up, it does not tear down. So that is why I am anxious to address the first-year students, so that I can ask them to pay attention to what they see and hear, and to seek out the wise, not merely the loudest. What if our political candidates took the spotlight off themselves and paid tribute to individuals who taught them well, even if they disagreed with them? Who were their mentors, and who provided them with safe places to grow and learn? And how would those mentors view the rancor with which they talk about one another? Wisdom has built her house, she has hewn her seven pillars. She has slaughtered her animals, she has mixed her wine, she has also set her table. She has sent out her servant-girls, she calls from the highest places in the town, “You that are simple, turn in here!” To those without sense she says, “Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight.” Proverbs 9:1-6

Sunday, July 22, 2012

The Elephant (Gun) in the Room

The horrible reality of the massacre in Aurora, Colorado this past week drives home once again the realization that America can be, and is, a very violent place. We have an unacceptably high number of gun-related deaths, year in, and year out. But there is nary a politician who will so much as hint that we should do more about regulating the purchase of firearms in this country. In the last six months, I have read countless stories in the local and regional news about angry spouses, and ex-spouses, who have shot estranged spouses, lovers and even their own children, to exact some kind of revenge. We are horrified at such occurrences, but we tend to shrug our shoulders, as if such violence is simply a part of our culture, and the price of living in a modern society. If it is the price of living in America today, it is a price we should not be willing to pay. I have several friends, and relatives, who either live abroad, or who grew up in another country before moving here. They tell me that folks in their native, or adopted homelands, such as Canada, England and the Scandinavian countries, perceive Americans as residents of the wild, wild west, where everyone owns guns and carries them everywhere. It's not difficult to figure out from whence such caricatures emerge. Take a look at the films we export and one cannot help but wonder if folks think we are obsessed with violence. But take a look at some of the rhetoric of the leadership of the National Rifle Association, and one can only marvel at how such extremist views became the tail that wags the political dog. I grew up in southwestern Pennsylvania in the foothills of the Alleghenies, and most of my friends and neighbors were hunters. It was a rite of passage to go on one's first hunting excursion when once reached the magical age of twelve. Since my father was not a hunter, I planned to take that initial step into manhood with a kindly neighbor. However, the year before I would have been old enough, the neighbor brought home a deer he had bagged, and I decided that I could not kill a deer, or anything else. I grew up near a pond, and we went fishing almost everyday. I always threw any fish I caught back into the water, and felt guilty for causing it injury or, at the very least, a very sore mouth for a day or two. At Boy Scout camp we shot rifles on a firing range, and I enjoyed it. At a summer-long camp at a military school, I earned a medal in archery. But it never occurred to me to use my skills as a budding archer to bring down wild game. I just don't have it in me to kill animals. But I do not begrudge hunters or fishermen ( and women) who enjoy bringing home freshly caught game. I just don't want to see the quarry, thank you. The NRA used to focus its efforts on helping scouts and others learn how to practice gun safety, teaching us that guns are not toys and that we must always use great care when handling a weapon. Somehow, the NRA has gone from wise instructor to crazy second amendment advocate, holding gun ownership up as the true measure of what it means to be an American. Gun lobbies in some states and municipalities have attempted to force through legislation that requires citizens to carry weapons. Believe it or not, some churches in Texas encourage their members to bring guns with them to church on Sunday morning, because it is legal .The NRA fights against any and every measure that may come up in federal or state legislatures that seeks to impose common-sense limits on how many guns an individual may purchase in a month, or that attempts to remove so-called "cop-killer" bullets from the market. And the NRA is always successful in defeating such measures. Why? Because its leaders have learned that fear is the best recruiting tool, and that appeals to self-interest trumps the common good every time. The oft-repeated refrain they use as their call to arms (pardon the pun) is to simply enforce the laws on the books, not create new ones that will restrict the rights of gun owners. Well, the killer in Colorado bought all of his weapons legally at legitimate dealers. He was able, legally, to assemble an arsenal that enabled him to fire as many rounds as he could before the police could arrive and disarm him. I wonder if the NRA will aid in his legal defense? After all, in assembling his arsenal he was just exercising his second amendment rights as a law abiding American. Right? We have all seen the bumper sticker that states "I'm a Member of the NRA, and I Vote!" Well, guess what: "I Oppose the NRA, and I Vote!"

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Not Ready for Less-Than-Primetime!

As things worked out, I had a month's vacation coming to me for the fiscal year just past, so I am using it this month. Thus, I am between jobs, but will collect one more paycheck for my unused vacation. So, it's the longest stretch ever of getting up in the morning and not going to work that I have ever known. People have asked me, probably because of my increasingly white hair, if I will retire at some point. My response is the same as it has always been: I have no role-models for retirement in my family. My father and grandfather both worked up until the days they died. Besides, I like going to work everyday, and always have. Don't get me wrong, I do like time off, when I can get it. One reason I have so much vacation time left from my work at Lafayette is because I cannot take time off when students are on campus. Since we all get off for Christmas and Thanksgiving, etc, I don't use up vacation time there. But I like what I do, and even though it can be very difficult at times, as it was during All College Day this year, the rewards outweigh the deficits. I love talking to students about their ideas about faith, and God and life, in general. I get caught up in faculty discussions about life and meaning and what it means to be educated. I served as a parish pastor for just over seven years, and I still treasure the people we met in those churches dearly. But I would not trade the ride I have had since then for anything. And I get to do it all again, and at a brand new place, where my skills as a preacher and designer of worship will be appreciated so much. Yes, Connie and I are sick of packing and moving, and cannot believe we are doing this yet again. On the other hand, we have found a wonderful new home, and cannot wait to move in and make it ours. Our children are both happy and successful and very good people, who had great college educations and experiences that we could share, because we have both been involved in the academic world for almost all of their lives. So, NO, I am nowhere near ready to retire, and I look forward to making friends in our new community at Bucknell University, while giving thanks for the great friends we have made at Lafayette, and Allegheny, and Ferrum and Delaware. The journey continues, and I hope you will come along for the ride.

Monday, June 18, 2012

End of An Era

This will be my final post from Lafayette college, my professional home for the past eight years. I will leave Lafayette in a few weeks to begin service as University Chaplain at Bucknell University in Lewisburg, PA. I like to think that I have been a mostly good influence on Lafayette, as it and its people have certainly been a positive influence on me. Though I have worked in ministry in higher education for over twenty-five years, it was at Lafayette that I experienced the greatest amount of growth in my personal and professional life. The atmosphere here lends itself to doing interfaith work in a way that was new to me when I arrived. And that wonderful interfaith spirit only continued to grow during my time here. Students and faculty and staff gave of themselves so that a strong spiritual life community would have a solid foundation. Though the mainline Protestant group here is small, students stuck with the program and made it count, and let themselves be noticed for their progressive spirit. That can be a prophetic action in today's brand of American Christianity. Lafayette also presented me with great challenges, as it has sometimes given off a feeling of "institutional agnosticism" that can serve to discourage students who are trying to feel their way along, spiritually. They felt sometimes that they were denigrated by faculty who questioned why they felt a need for religious beliefs in this day and age. However, I have also heard marvelous testimonies from faculty and staff who have also felt marginalized because of their religious beliefs, and yet, they refused to remain silent about their faith's journey in the face of peer pressure. So, Lafayette has been a spiritual testing ground for many, and that is certainly true for me, as well. I leave having grown in my understanding of the importance of providing safe spaces for people who are seeking a spiritual path, and someone who is willing to walk that path with them. So, thanks be for all I have experienced and learned here. And here's to the next part of the journey for me from whence I will post here in the not-too-distant future.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Trinity Sunday..a Revelation Through the Eyes of a Little boy!

I have written here before about the joys we have found in attending the local Episcopal Cathedral for the past year-and-a-half. Yesterday was another of those amazing times. It was Trinity Sunday, which, in many United Methodist Churches, is just another Sunday. However, not so with the Episcopalians. Trinity Sunday is another opportunity to mix pageantry with teaching and beautiful liturgy. The bishop preached, and likened the operation of the trinity to three men ( and he also added the possibility of women!)dancing merrily. Because I have a longstanding love/hate relationship with the concept of the trinity, I am always happy when someone offers an illustration that gives it life and new avenues of interpretation. Once, I questioned a professor about the need for the trinity. Since he was a Catholic priest, the trinity figured largely in his theology. So, he asked me to think of it as the three manifestations of God in a familial relationship with one another.He said that the trinity can never make sense outside of that relationship and interconnectedness. The other aspect of yesterday's service that made a deep and lasting impression on me was at the baptism of the children. We all love baptisms, as we smile and coo at the babies who are being baptized. Two very little ones were indeed baptized, and the font was located halfway down the aisle, in the middle of the congregation. The children were, quite literally, surrounded by the members of the congregation. The third child baptized was a young boy who looked to be about eight-years-old, and he was dressed snappily in a white shirt and red tie. He had a look of awe and amazement in his eyes, as the priests and bishop made him the center of attention for that moment. I wondered to myself how we can keep that feeling alive for him. After all, parents tend to slack off in taking children to church, and the kids then get out of the habit of attending. But for that brief moment, I did sense the presence of God in that place in a way that was so special and real. So much of the awe and majesty of liturgy has been taken away today, sometimes replaced by vapid praise music with lyrics that focus on the individual and God, and not on the community. The Cathedral has figured out a way to couple majestic and powerful music with a message that touches every individual, and brings the historic message of the church into bold relief. We will be moving soon, and I shall miss that connection that I have made with that congregation. However, I will be leading a university congregation that meets in a majestic facility, and I shall have to work to make the liturgy a living, breathing entity that invites each congregant back, week after week. I will remember the look of wonder in that young lad's eyes, and seek to help convey that in new and exciting ways.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Loss, Life and God's Gentle Ways..Romans 8:26

The most difficult aspect of the life of a college chaplain is working with other members of the campus community when the death of a student occurs. We work daily with young adults who have their entire lives before them. This work is all about assisting young adults in preparing for their futures. And yet, tragically, sometimes we must stand with them as they confront their own mortality because a classmate has died. There is no adequate description of the growing sense of panic that ensues whenever the news of a student's death begins to spread to all corners of the campus, and beyond. News that once took a measurable amount of time to permeate the campus now travels in an instant, thanks to social media. It is impossible to get ahead of the curve, to be there before students get the terrible news. Now, we must scramble to set up support networks as quickly as possible, and to try to identify potential sites where students will gather to console one another. We had one of those terrible events here last Saturday, when so many administrators and faculty were away from campus, enjoying the beginning of that short season we know as end of the semester. On a day that we usually take a deep breath and relax, we were called to attention, and to our posts, as the community was shaken to its core by the death of a beloved student member. Along with a thousand details that must be covered in such an emergency comes the certainty that we must gather the community together, as soon as possible. Not surprisingly, that particular task falls to the chaplain. What do we say, how do we set it up, what if no one wants to get together? One of the gifts that comes with many seasons of doing this work is knowing that, wherever we gather folks, and whatever we do, they will come, and when the community comes together, it is better than if the members cope with their loss while scattered about. And so, we gathered in the chapel at ten o'clock on a Saturday night, on the day that holds the traditional end-of-the-semester celebration. This year, it was that very celebration that contributed to the loss, but that was not the reason for gathering. The community was dealing with shock, disbelief, regret and an overwhelming, palpable sadness. The chapel was filled beyond its capacity, as people migrated there as if on auto-pilot. I am a relatively well-educated person, but no amount of training can fully prepare one to break the painful silence of the hundreds gathered there. There was not a face that was not etched in pain, not a person there who was not touched by this tragedy, if only because he or she is a member of this community. And so it began, and we addressed the reality that such a gathering is the hardest thing that we can do as a community, and yet we must do it. Several folks shared their memories of the beloved student, and no words were more poignant than those of the late student's own parents, who chose to gather with the community in one of the greatest gestures of love and support that many of us have ever witnessed. They sought to comfort the community, even while they were dealing with the most awful reality that parents can ever face. There were hugs and tears, and one-word prayers uttered by anyone who wished to offer them, and the effect was what can only be described as supernatural. From every corner of that cavernous space came words of hope, comfort, tribute, pain, disbelief and even thanks. And then it was over, and we slowly made our way back out into the night. We continue to pick up the pieces during this finals week, and one can still feel the heaviness of the pall that settled over the community. But there is something else, as well. Students, faculty and staff who were in attendance at that late night gathering carry with them a bond that is quietly acknowledged whenever we pass on the sidewalks or see one another in the dining hall. We know that, for a few moments, we were in the presence of a power beyond ourselves that took our burdens and made them....bearable. The Spirit was with us, and it made itself known to those of many, and no, faith traditions. In the horror of that day, little moments of grace permeated our lives. "The Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words."

Monday, April 23, 2012

What Does the Lord Require of Us? Micah 6:1-8

Recently, I had an opportunity to look at a favorite passage of scripture in a new and fresh way. Often, it is true that we take familiar passages for granted and do not re-think them as frequently as we ought to. Micah 6:8 is a wonderful text that admonishes us to "do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with your God." It sounds so user-friendly and easy to use. That is, until one looks at the whole of chapter 6 a bit more closely. The context of the passage is a trial with YHWH as the prosecuting attorney, the mountains of the earth as the jury, and the cities of Israel as the defendant. The context of the whole affair does have to do with the nature of Israel's worship, but it goes much further than that. The whole concept of Israel's understanding of justice is on trial, and it is found to be wanting. To Micah's way of thinking, and to the ways of thinking of many of the eighth century prophets, justice is, or should be, dictated by the concerns of those for whom justice is denied. It is very difficult for Americans, or for people of any other affluent society to grasp fully this biblical concept of justice, because we have an entrenched understanding of nationalistic justice. America represents 5% of the world's population, but we incarcerate 25% of the world's population of inmates. To our way of understanding, people get what they deserve. After all, justice is blind, signified by the famous statue of the figure with the scales and blindfold. Well, for the prophets, justice was not blind, and God saw, and sees, all injustice. There is nowhere that God's compassionate gaze will not fall; God sees the need in all quarters. So then, this understanding of justice also transforms the understanding of mercy, in this context. Mercy, or hesed in Hebrew, does not translate easily into English. When I was an undergraduate, my OT professor said that it is best translated as "steadfast love." The scholars that I researched would not disagree with that, but some take it a step further and define it as the unbreakable connection that God has with God's people. We are to strive for that same connection with our neighbors. If I was to personalize it, I would say something like, "I will not only love God with the commitment that God first showed me, but I will love you with that same commitment to respect, helpfulness and loving concern." Such an understanding of mercy then paves the way for embodying humility in a way that seeks to take empathy to its furthermost limits. We must be alert to the times when God's hesed, which may cause God's heart to break, also causes our hearts to break with compassion and loving kindness.Though we can never do so fully, we must try to look at the world through God's eyes. This whole attitude must pervade our worship, and carry beyond Sunday morning. As one writer has stated, our Sunday worship does not mean much if it doesn't make a difference in the way we treat people on Monday. In short, Micah 6:8 is a call to stand with every person in every place, everyday. We are called to help to restore God's people, one hand and one heart at a time. No exceptions. Favorite biblical passages can surprise us when we re-visit them. They can cause our faith, and our ability to imagine the breadth and depth of God's community, to expand in ways we do not expect. And the Kingdom moves just a little bit closer.

Friday, April 6, 2012

Another Easter, Another Plea

For as long as I can remember, I have wondered why Easter does not change us more than it does. OK, time for a disclaimer: My interpretation about what is significant about Easter may not be thought of as in the mainstream. Well, that wouldn't be the first time that my thinking fell well shy of orthodoxy. Millions will gather this Sunday, many who do not darken the door of a church for the rest of the year. The choirs will be full, the organ will open up all the way, and most of the pastors will appear to be in really good moods. And when everyone leaves the service, I wonder if they will feel changed somehow. Last Easter, my wife and I attended our first Easter service in our then-new church. The Cathedral was packed, the choir and organist were superb, and I heard one women remark as we were leaving the church, "This is THE place to be today."I would agree that any Christian gathering on Easter is THE place to be, but only if the message approaches being transformative. When I hear an Easter sermon, I want to be amazed by the proclamation of what sets Easter apart. However, what I usually hear has something to do with how the day signifies that we need not fear death, for Christ has conquered death. I do not disagree, though I would like to hear a fuller explanation of what that actually means. But my focus on Easter is not about death, and beyond. I wonder why I don't hear pastors talk about the effect of resurrection on us here and now. I write this on Good Friday, which, in my opinion, is the most sacred day of the Christian year. Too many Christians want to hurry past this day and get on with the fun part of the weekend. Of course, without Friday, Sunday has no real significance. Good Friday shouts to us that Christ was a man of his word, and he did not take the easy way out, though he may have wished that he could have. All of his talk about sacrificial love took on meaning only because he did not turn away from following his talk to its logical and necessary conclusion. Good Friday reminds me that God did more than God had to in order to get my attention. And, for me, that message is not about blood atonement, because, as Marcus Borg has opined, God is God, did God really need to kill his son to redeem the world? No, and Jesus chose to offer up his life because, in light of his teachings, he could do nothing else if his teachings were to be authentic. Thus, Sunday is the day to get everyone's attention and ask why we have not changed our behavior. If God was not above choosing the difficult path, why are we so lazy as people of faith? The majority of professed Christians in the United States do not attend weekly worship. According to Diana Butler Bass, about twenty-four percent of us do. Christian politicians seem to be obsessed about the sexual habits of Americans, and are bold to proclaim their unending concern for the unborn child. Yet, the way they blithely slash social programs seems to indicate that they are not nearly as concerned with a child once he or she is born. We have become a selfish, self-satisfied people who call ourselves Christians. Again, according to Butler-Bass, even the so-called "mega-churches" are in decline, so American Christianity is in trouble. I am not sure that even a radical Easter Sunday wake-up call about THIS world and its problems will serve as a wake up. Walter Brueggemann attributed the inability of the biblical prophets to arouse concern on the part of those who heard their preaching to a numbness that grew from satiation. They were full of the good stuff, they had no need, or ability, apparently, to heed warnings.
My Easter message, if I was to preach one? It's one I have actually preached before: How many more Easter Sundays will it take for Christians to understand that nothing is the same, and the world can be changed for the better? We have to stop looking at the sky and instead turn our gaze to our neighbors. There is a world in need of love and a reason to be hopeful. Why does that task not excite us more? Why are we not more determined to show the life changing message of the gospel in our own lives? This Easter, let's make a determination to begin by welcoming the Stranger, whomever that person may be for each one of us. Radical hospitality makes room for those with whom we differ, and once we get together, we can enrich the lives of one another with our stories. Easter: life does not have to be the same. The work has been done, God has saved the whole world. We just need to show what that change looks like.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

We Were All Strangers.

I attended what we call a Brownbag Lunch Discussion today. These lunches are very popular, even though there is not a brownbag to be seen anywhere, as we have them catered. But the topics are diverse and always of keen interest to members of the college community. Today's was entitled "What Does an Immigrant Look Like?" I was prepared for a panel discussing issues facing Americans regarding the challenges brought to bear regarding immigration. It was so much more than that, because every member of the panel, students and faculty alike, are people who emigrated to this country. Some are naturalized citizens, others aliens and still others permanent residents. Each shared a story of the challenges faced in coming to this country, and then of going through the legal hoops to be allowed to remain and become citizens. Though the details of their stories varied, the one common thread was the hostile way they felt that they were treated by the Office of U. S. Citizenship and Naturalization Services. The process of becoming a citizen is very expensive, dehumanizing and almost never-ending. As I sat there, listening to my colleagues, friends and students, it occurred to me that not one of them fulfilled the stereotypes that politicians and others like to create in the public mind. I reside in a state that, shamefully, has embraced the policy that, in order to vote, one must produce an official photo ID. This is a state that was founded as a haven for anyone who felt persecuted for being different. The Book of Faith reminds us that we were all strangers who God embraced for all time. As Holy Week approaches, it would be well for us to remember the lengths to which God was willing to go to bring us into the fold. Why is it we seem unable/unwilling to extend such hospitality to others who just want to be a part of our society? There may be many reasons, some thought of as practical, some rooted in fear and others in hatred. And yet, we were all strangers and God welcomed us. How do we escape that overwhelming grace, and how do we justify not extending it to others?

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Love and Death. John 12:20 - 26

One of the first Woody Allen movies I ever saw was "Love and Death", which is an hilarious romp through Russian literature and themes of life, death and God's place in all of it. When Woody faces a firing squad, he is comforted by the silhouette of an angel that promises that he will be cared for and therefore, he need not fear death. We hear the gunfire and next see Woody following the Grim Reaper in a dance of death. When his love interest sees this vision and asks what happened, Allen replies, "I got screwed!" When I saw that movie so long ago, I did not understand what that line was supposed to mean. Now that I am older, and have seen many more Woody Allen films, I am not a whole lot clearer on the meaning. But I am pretty sure that it has something to do with the fact that, if we place our trust in God at the moment of our death,we think that we should get to escape the whole experience. Face it, none of us likes the thought of our own demise. I teach a course on death and dying, and have done so for many years. As I get older, the topics that we address seem to hit home a bit more than they used to. When I took my first course on death and dying as an undergraduate, it was great fun and most interesting, because it was about something that was so far in my future that I could not imagine it, though the course required that we write our own obituary and funeral service as a part of the final exam. Now I realize that my students must look at me and wonder what I think about the topic, since I am so much closer to demise than they are.
Well, I am not crazy about the idea of my own death. And I know why, it is because I will hate missing all that I will miss. I really do enjoy getting up each morning, and I never take the rising sun for granted. But it will end for me someday, and someday is much closer than it was when I was in college. During countless graveside services at which I have officiated, the words from John 12:24 have always been spoken at the very beginning of the committal:"Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." Jesus was speaking of physical death, and also of the death of one's own selfish desires. We are approaching Holy Week, when Christians around the world recount the last week of Jesus' life, and ponder again the meaning of love, death, life and resurrection. But at the heart of it all, we have to deal with the dying part of the equation: we are all going to die. And the hardest phrase of all: I am going to die. Talk of resurrection only makes sense when we first can talk of our own death, when we acknowledge that this life will end and our families will gather around our grave and bid us farewell, just as we have done for others throughout our lives. Though Woody Allen was probably thinking of War and Peace when he created the title Love and Death, that phrase sums up nicely the Christian message: facing our own death is bearable because of love. God loved us through sending Christ to live, and die, so that we need not think of death as having the final say. I don't have to like the idea of my own death, and I don't, but I need not approach the reality of that event without the hope of a God who is faithful, in this life, and in life beyond death. The Christian faith is a collection of paradoxes: strength through weakness, greatness through humility, life through death. It is a puzzle, but one worth contemplating, in this life, and beyond.

Friday, March 2, 2012

To Religion's Cultured Despisers

Friedrich Daniel Ernst Schleiermacher wrote a very famous treatise addressing the tension between Romantic and Enlightenment ideas about religion. He entitled the work On Religion: To It's Cultured Despisers. I cannot help but think of that work when I am involved in discussions here on my campus about the tension that exists here for people of faith, any faith tradition, and the intellectual and academic community. Faculty, staff and students alike report the ill-at-ease feeling regarding religion and faith that seems to permeate the institution. No one seems to be able to define why it feels that way, but those who have spoken about it have felt its sting. How did we evolve from an openly Presbyterian-related school to one where it seems to be really uncool to admit openly to religious beliefs? Let's be clear in acknowledging the historical battles on many college and university campuses in the early part of the twentieth century dealing with orthodox Christian thought and heresy trials, etc, and of the "feel good" pseudo-theology that found a home on many campuses during the final decades of the twentieth century. Some of the problem is of religious folk's own making. Having said that, one can search the web and find many first-class colleges and universities that still talk openly about their commitment to the free exchange of ideas, including those related to religious and spiritual life. However, it has become a bit more challenging to find links to the Religious and Spiritual Life page from the homepages of many colleges and universities, including our own. Why? Like most institutions, the fastest growing demographic among our students as far as religious beliefs are concerned is the one where students define themselves as "unaffiliated." In her new book, Christianity After Religion, Diana Butler Bass tracks the decline of religious affiliation in America, at least, as it affects the Christian Church. Even the popular mega-churches have plateaued and are beginning to lose members. We live in a time of rapid change, and there seems to be a suspicion of anything that can be defined as traditional. So, we should not be surprised that the popularity of religious belief is waning. However, since the major religious traditions emphasize the intrinsic value of all people, does it make sense for some institutions of higher education to flee from holding up their religious life programs and the good that takes place within and without those communities? One would think not. Certainly, a new form of "evangelical" atheism may have something to do with it. This new atheism is not one that encourages all to "live and let live" when it comes to beliefs about essential truths. Rather, it seeks to demean all religion and anyone who holds religious beliefs and describes religious folks as "delusional." Have religious people done anything to bring this thinking about? Undoubtedly, they have. One need only listen to some of the presidential candidates to pinpoint the kind of language and thinking that can cause others to dismiss any talk of faith and spirituality as superfluous. But college and university campuses are supposed to be places where dialogue on any range of issues can be addressed without fear of ridicule. I dare say that we are entering a period, if we are not there already, where one risks being thought an intellectual lightweight in the academic community if one admits to belief in a Supreme Being, or power beyond oneself. My institution admits many students and employs a significant number of people who hold religious beliefs and live as active members of faith communities. Hopefully, we will do a better job of helping those individuals to feel valued for the good they bring to the community because of the effect of their faith, not in spite of it.

Friday, February 17, 2012

It's Transfiguration Sunday Again. Yawn. Mark 9: 2 - 9

I have been trying mightily to get students interested in a workshop on spiritual autobiography that we are offering here next week. It has been an uphill journey. Add to that the fact that the event falls just after Ash Wednesday, another excuse for many Protestants to yawn, and the task becomes that much more challenging. It is relatively rare that my constituents get terribly excited about events dealing with faith. They are so busy with classes and social events that there is precious little room (desire?) in their lives for other events that require an hour of their time in what is already an over-scheduled week. In the past couple of weeks I have been made acutely aware of how little some members of this community who are not students understand the nature of the work that I do here.
Having said all of that, the Sunday of the Transfiguration should be anything but a yawn. Sure, it's a bit of a stretch to understand the imagery portrayed by Mark. After all, the events described therein can cause one to wonder if drug use was prevalent in biblical times. Who else has such visions? Well, we do, actually. Or, to be more exact, we can. Have you ever been walking along on a certain type of day when you become aware, quite suddenly, of the perfection of everything around you? I have had several of those epiphanies, and they have almost always occurred on a country road in the summertime, when every flower bends in just such a way in the breeze, and cattle graze happily nearby, and I can hear nothing but the deafening silence of that perfect place. I have begun to think of those moments of vision as a gift from God, a way of reminding me of how fortunate I am to have all that I have, and to remind me as well that I am never alone, even though it feels that way sometimes. The most important element in the story of the Transfiguration may be that Jesus came down off the mountain and bid his disciples to do the same. They could not stay in that seemingly perfect place, but they could use that experience to steady themselves when the going got tough. And, as we know, it was about to get very tough, for everyone. We may lament the fact that we are not granted such an audience as Peter, James and John were given on that mountain. But the fact that they were allowed to have that glimpse of the divine realm should energize us for our Lenten journey, and instill in us a sense that this time of the liturgical year is anything but a big yawn. So, look around this week, your moment to be awestruck is about to become manifest. You will have your own epiphany and God will get your attention. But only if you are looking, not yawning.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

The Candidates Do Not Have the Last Word! Isaiah 40:21-31

I don't know about you, but I am very tired of the circus that has come to be known as the presidential primary season. Each day, we learn that one or another of the candidates has said something even more fantastic or ridiculous than the others. And it's a moving target; each day someone "one ups" another in the silliness department. I cannot help but believe that, at their worst, the primaries show to what extent men and women will go to grasp power. The Republican candidates will stop at nothing to wrest power away from the Democrats, and I am certain that the Democrats will be just as ruthless in trying to hold on to the power they have. To make matters worse, there is no shortage of cnadidates claiming the "true" religious faith that will assure victory.
How far we have come from the tragic times that the Israelites faced during the exile in Babylon. Not all of the Children of Israel were forced to make the trip, just those with money and power. After all, the Babylonians probably had little need or desire to increase the numbers of poor among them. Those who were exiled must have wondered what had become of their God, Yahweh, the One who had made covenant to always to with them. They were living in a strange land, with people who practiced what must have seemed a strange religion, worshiping Marduk, in a theological system that celebrated the rise of chaos out of order. In contrast, the creation stories in Genesis describe the peaceful order out of chaos that Yahweh had set down, until humans decided to test the limits of power and thus created their own chaos. So, in the midst of all of this, we have Deutero-Isaiah's words of encouragement to the people.
"Have you not known? Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning? Have you not understood from the foundations of the earth? It is he who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers; who stretches out the heavens like a curtain, and spreads them like a tent to live in; who brings princes to naught, and makes the rulers of the earth as nothing....To whom then will you compare me, or who is my equal? says the Holy One." W. Dennis Tucker, Jr, Associate Professor at George Truett Theological Seminary, modifies these verses to make them conform more closely to the original Hebrew text: "Thus the final rhetorical question is actually the climax in a short series of staccato lines: surely you know, surely you have heard, surely it has been told to you; surely you understand the foundations of the earth. And if you understand the foundations of the earth, how can you believe in the possibility of any other god at work in our world? This God, and this God alone, stands above the world, creating a place for those who are like grasshoppers (verse 22) to live."
What we have here is a strong reminder from Deutero-Isaiah that the people must not forget the God who has been there from the beginning. No doubt, this was hard for the people in exile to believe. Folks who are experiencing hard times are not always able to place their faith in a promise, when everything around them seems to be working to convince them of the falsehood of that promise. One need not be in exile to identify with feelings of isolation or worry. Who among us has not awakened in the middle of the night, unable to fall asleep again because we begin to worry about every task or unsolved problem with which we deal during the day? In the darkness of the night, God can seem far away. How much worse, then, must it be for those in our world who are beset by poverty, illness and injustice? How are they to hold on to promises that show little evidence of fulfillment any time soon? Such despair and weariness is very real, but can it deny the reality of a living, creating God? The beautiful prose at the end of Isaiah 40 queries the reader: "Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." These are not platitudes meant to quiet the restless and appease the down-trodden. They affirm the promise of the God who has been there from the beginning and who will be there to the end. We may not understand our plight, and we may find it hard to believe that our personal situations or our global condition will improve any time soon. The people in exile returned home eventually, and had to start over, with a new idea of who their god was, based on their experience of loss. That should encourage us. And, when I look at our secular leaders, my despair is tempered by the belief that they do not have the last word. My ultimate trust must be found in One whose ways I cannot begin to comprehend, and whose grace I cannot deny.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

The Person of Jesus

I am beginning a study with students on the subject of the person of Jesus. Can we really know anything at all about Jesus the man? After all, nearly everything written about him has come down through the faith community, which cannot be considered an unbiased source. At the same time, modern-day skeptics who seek to discredit him and deny that he ever lived are also suspect, with as strong an agenda as members of the Christian faith community. I think that this conundrum is a good thing, because it should mean, at least, that no one should feel too smug when it comes to what we can know about Jesus. While the Gospels offer much to engender admiration and faith, they are not, properly understood, historical documents. They are testimonies of faith, handed down from oral to written tradition in the decades after his crucifixion. I am having a really productive conversation with a colleague who I think considers himself an evangelical Christian, though labels are dangerous things. I consider myself a liberal, or progressive Christian, and again, watch the labels. We sat down to discuss our views on scripture and found that we share many more points in common than at least I had thought we would. It was a pleasant surprise, and we will continue the conversation in hopes of leading our Christian students, of whatever stripe, to do the same thing. Truth is, interfaith cooperation on our campus is superior to intrafaith cooperation, at least as it pertains to the Christian community. I am looking forward to this study with students on the person of Jesus. After all, I expect to learn much from them. They are young enough to ask questions that more seasoned folks might hesitate to ask. To admit that I do not think that I can really know the person of Jesus causes me to listen to the texts more carefully, and to try to peel away the layers of tradition to seek the kernels of original thought that are there. Happily, I cannot, would not, try to do that alone, but must rely on scholars much wiser than I. Of course, I may find out that I have totally misread what is of interest to students and discover that there are few takers for this discussion, as often happens on campus. Either way, it's a good corrective for those of us who work in the faith everyday, and the rest of us who seek to live out the faith everyday. Without examining the very basic tenets of our Christian faith from time to time, we tend to remake Jesus in our own image. If anyone doubts that, just listen to the presidential candidates when they tout their religious credentials. That in and of itself should be enough to spur us on to a daily examination of not only our Christian faith, but also of our motives for believing in the first place!