My Final Entry

No, I'm not dying. When I arrived at Bucknell University, I inherited a tradition of sending out a weekly meditation through email. It has been a challenge to write both that, and another for the blog. Sometimes, I just copied and pasted the meditation to the blog. But I am going to let the blog lie fallow for a while. If you would like to receive the weekly meditations, send me an email at jpc026@bucknell.edu and I will add you to the list!

Honor and Shame...We Know Them Both!

In this week's Gospel lesson from the fourteenth chapter of Luke, Jesus throws a wrench into the honor-shame culture in which he lived and preached. In that culture, those who were the have's made sure others knew it, and those who were the have-not's did their best to stay out of the limelight. Jesus instructs dinner hosts to invite to their feasts not the well-heeled of the community, nor others who could pay the host back. Instead, he suggests that they invite people to their banquets that they know beyond a doubt cannot ever pay back the debt of hospitality offered. Wow, what's the wisdom in that advice? If we cannot strut our positions and achievements in public, what's the use of striving for excellence? I have watched, with a mixture of amusement and dismay, the proliferation of sashes and cords and medals with which graduates are festooned at commencement ceremonies. Whereas commencement should be a celebration of all graduates having made the grade, so to speak, we have managed to make it another competitive exhibition. Is it not enough we honor academic achievement by listing, and sometimes announcing, Latin honors as the graduates pass? What if everyone wore a plain, black academic gown with no adornments? I write this as one who did not receive his undergraduate degree with honors. But I did receive several graduate degrees with an academic average high enough for top honors, except that the schools involved felt that we ought not acknowledge grade point averages at the graduate level, because it fostered an unhealthy level of competitiveness. "Curses, foiled again!" as Snoopy would say. I remember my first on-going experience of honor-shame. When I was in the third grade, we moved into a new elementary school that housed a cafeteria, something the old school did not have. Up until that time, all of us brought our lunches from home. But my folks insisted that I continue to carry my lunch. That does not sound unreasonable, but for the fact that my school segregated all of the "brown-baggers" from those who bought the hot lunch. We were exiled to a table by the wall, away from the kids who bought their lunches. The worst was Thanksgiving, when even the die-hard brown-bag crowd gave in and bought the feast. But not me. I sat with just a couple of other folks, feeling sheepish and hoping the other kids did not look down on us, while feeling certain that they were doing just that. Our junior high school did not have a cafeteria, and so we all brought our lunches from home for the next three years. When I entered high school, I bought lunch in the cafeteria every day and never carried a brown-bag to school again. Writing this has caused me to remember that little honor-shame saga so clearly, and it is not a pleasant memory, even though it seems so insignificant now. How large a burden, then, must be carried by those whose income level or social status causes them to be marginalized or made to feel different every day, with no end in sight? Jesus sought to end class distinctions forever, and yet they remain, in abundance. Why do we resist his command so vigorously?

Religious Memories, and Memory

Early September always puts me in the mind of my early memories of going to school. When I was in kindergarten, I had to ride the bus for about two miles to get to the school, and that is the longest distance I ever had to ride the bus to arrive at school. I remember the smell of the diesel fumes on a crisp fall morning as the bus driver stopped to pick up students along the way. To this day, the smell of diesel fuel burning transports me back to those bus trips so long ago. September also reminds me of the first parish that I served after graduating from divinity school. For the first time in my life, I was not attending school in the fall, and everything seemed a bit strange and new to me as I went about my daily tasks while others attended classes somewhere. For some, September reminds them of "Rally Day," when the Sunday school classes were promoted to the next grade and the program year began in the church. A family picnic at a location that resembles a grove where picnics were taken when the youth group went on an outing can make our senses come alive. The sound of a beloved hymn, or the smell of candles burning or sunlight illuminating stained glass can all have dramatic effects on our memories. Religious memory can be a very good thing, as it can take us back to times in our lives when we may have made important decisions about our faith, or times that God just seemed a bit closer. Memory can also convict us, sometimes, because we may believe that we were more active, spiritually, when we were younger than now. However, such memories can serve to idealize a time that may not have been as much a time of spiritual growth and certainty as we remember. When recently I stood in the chapel at my Alma Mater and celebrated Holy Communion, for the first time ever in that space, I was overtaken by a sense of awe, of then, and now. I was moved by the memories of the time that I spent there as a student, and as I looked around the room, I was touched by the faces of former classmates and former professors who had gathered that day. But I would not return to those student days for anything, because I had so much to learn, and so much growing to accomplish. Though I was a very devout young man back then, I was so clueless as to the fullness of faith's meaning. Though I must still work to "go on to perfection" in Wesley's words, I know that I have a greater sense of God's love and compassion now that I have lived these years as an adult. I hope that you also have memories that warm your heart, coupled with the perception to help you to know how far you have come on your spiritual journeys since those days. Who we are and what we believe is built always on the soil of where we have been.

Why Bill Maher Keeps Getting It Wrong!

I would like to offer my thoughts as to why atheists like Bill Maher get it wrong every time. I like some of Maher's political commentary, but his dismissive attitude towards anyone with religious beliefs gets really old after a while. Finally, the other night he had, as a guest, Jim Wallis, founder of the Sojourners community in Washington, DC. I thought, "Finally, someone to stand up to Maher's questioning." Turns out, Wallis was not up to the task. He quoted great things that Jesus said, but could not respond to Maher's question, "How can you believe in a God who killed people and sent natural disasters and was a tyrant?" They skirted the issue of literal interpretation of scripture, because if one says that one should not take the scripture literally, Maher jumps in with a sweeping generalization that none of it is worthy of belief, in that case. Wallis blew a perfect opportunity to say that scripture is a "witness to revelation," that is, people of faith were inspired to write about their perceptions of God's dealings with humanity through history. Cultural norms and customs frame how we perceive God's activity. It happened then and it happens now. People in the Ancient Near East believed that natural disasters and other events that caused loss of life were God's activity and retribution for faithless living. Wallis could have mentioned Jesus' admonition that he "came not to abolish the law, but to fulfill it." He expanded the understanding of God's actions and also talked about the human element in the formulation of the Law as recorded in the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Bible. What Jesus brought to the discussion was compassion, understanding and a sense of God's history, which in biblical terms, means past, present and future. One can never understand scripture without knowing about what was going on in the faith community, and in the larger world, at the time that it was written. Maher did say that he took a "course" on the Bible. Well Bill, I majored in it and have taken literally dozens of courses related to scripture, and I still have so much to learn. Sadly, many Bible studies on college and university campuses look at individual verses, and seek to interpret what was being said, without giving any attention to the context in which it was stated. My Bible studies challenge folks a bit more, because we look at the whole picture, and that causes more and more questions to arise, which makes us look at our understanding of our faith in new and sometimes challenging ways. My Bible studies are never as popular as the available "popcorn" approach of throwing out verses and asking what folks think they mean, but they can equip one to enter into serious dialogue when the Bill Maher's of the world come calling. Truth be told, I don't think Maher will ever find answers to his questions about the Bible that will satisfy him, because he has not spent his life in a faith community, wrestling with the scriptures, along with others, seeking to get every ounce of meaning out of them. I would be happy to have him attend one of my studies, I think we both would grow from the experience!

A Solution George Zimmerman Did Not Offer.

Folks are still buzzing about George Zimmerman having been found not-guilty in the shooting death of Trayvon Martin. The verdict does not indicate that Zimmerman did not shoot Martin, only that he was not charged in the death. I cannot help but observe that most folks support our justice system, unless someone that we think is guilty is found not guilty by a jury. It's an imperfect system, except for all of the others, as the saying goes. What has not garnered as much attention in this mess is the whole idea of carrying a loaded gun in the same manner in which one carries one's car keys or wallet. Carrying a loaded firearm makes a statement about how the carrier views the rest of the world: all others are potential enemies. While crime statistics show that violent crime in the US has been decreasing steadily over the past several years, each day's headlines can make one doubt the veracity of those statistics. However, I think we need to remind ourselves of the worldview that our Christian heritage imparts to us: We should perceive others as potential friends first, unless they give us reason to think differently. If I were to walk the streets of downtown Lewisburg "packing heat," in my mind's eye, I would see everyone as a potential adversary. Thus I would feel secure in carrying a weapon for my own safety. That is the thinking in states such as Florida, where concealed weapons are not only legal, but encouraged. Recently, a church in Texas made headlines when a sign was posted in the church declaring the church a "gun-free zone." Folks were furious. What then, do they say when they read Jesus' admonition that "those who live by the sword will die by the sword?" I don't own a gun, and never will. It's a personal decision of a man who has never hunted and who always threw back whatever fish he caught. Because it is not in my DNA to carry or use a firearm, or to willingly harm anyone, I may be at increased risk if ever I am accosted by someone who means to do me personal harm. On the other hand, the Lord's command that we see one another as friends, and not as enemies, may give me the advantage of figuratively disarming a potential adversary by extending a hand instead of reaching for a gun. Hospitality can be a life-changing force, if only we allow it time to work.

It's About Time, and Now It's Time for People of Faith to Speak Loudly!

I was quite distraught at the Supreme Court ruling concerning the Voting Rights Act. I don't disagree, necessarily, with the court striking down the part of the law that they did, but rather, with the prospect of having to count on Congress to rectify it. They were warned by the Court several years ago that the act was in jeopardy and needed updating. Congress did what it has done most of late, nothing.But today, I found great comfort in the Supreme Court's striking down a key provision of the Defense of Marriage Act.The court ruled that the United States cannot have one standard of recognition for some folks who are legally married, but not for others. The court did not go so far as to rule that all states must recognize same-gender marriage, but that, in states where it is legal, partners in same-gender marriages are entitled to the same federal benefits as are different gender partners. Now for the hard part: the communities of faith must take a leadership role in keeping the momentum going. I am hopeful, even, that the church in which I was ordained will have to deal with the unceasing demands of some of its members that justice be served by lifting the ban on same-gender marriages, among other things. United Methodists used to be church folks known for bold actions on human rights. In the last thirty years, we have become shadows of our former selves. We have become acculturated and, in many ways, are being held captive to the religious right. I have spoken out in my church for years on full acceptance of all people, and I am not hopeful that such welcome will occur in my lifetime. So, I will speak out even more loudly, not just for full inclusion of all people, but for bold action on social and environmental justice issues. The prophetic imperative has never been lifted from the church, and we are to act as Christ's agents, to bring peace and equality to any places that we are able. If enough of us strive for change, it cannot help but come. So let's put on our walking shoes and lift high our voices. The Prince of Peace will come, and we can help pave the way!

Looking for a Home

I have been wrestling with my ecclesiastical, but not my Christian, identity for some time now. I was ordained in the United Methodist Church, because that is the church in which I was raised. We tend to remain with the familiar things, people and places in our lives, don't we? There was a time when my denomination and I fit well together. The UMC's historic emphasis upon social justice, inclusiveness and open-mindedness has always had immense appeal for me. We used to highlight John Wesley's so-called "quadrilateral" of scripture, tradition, experience and reason as the building blocks of faith. Then, some in the denomination lobbied to have that changed to scripture, first, with the other elements subservient, and the General Conference made it law. At first glance it makes perfect sense, doesn't it? Why would we not use scripture as our foundation for faith? Wesley knew that scripture alone meant little unless one framed it within the historic creeds of the church, the experience of both the worshiping community and the individual, and serious and studied reflection. My denomination has always made provisions for clergy who are unable to attend seminary to take course of study classes, originally by correspondence, and now through on-line access. But those were the exception, and candidates for ordained ministry were expected to attend theological school after college and receive a grounding in scriptural study, among other courses. My denomination sponsors thirteen graduate schools of theology in which to train clergy, including at places like Duke, Emory, Drew and Boston Universities. However, with more and more people choosing ordained ministry as a second career, folks receive training at whatever schools of theology are close to their homes. As a result, many clergy today were trained at schools reflecting divergent theological traditions that employ a literalistic understanding of scripture, something that historic Methodism never advocated. We have always taken scripture very seriously, as a guide for our religious and spiritual lives, but not as a prescription for a list of do's and don’ts. Thus, I find myself in a denomination in which I feel more and more like a stranger, seeing our historic emphasis upon social justice increasingly superseded by calls for "traditional family values" and "getting tough on crime" and "restoring God to government." Each of those phrases encapsulates a whole set of beliefs worthy of serious discussion, but instead of discussion, scripture passages are thrown around to justify a particular theological bent. At times, there seems to be little tolerance for discussion these days. So, I am looking around, trying to find an ecclesiastical home where I fit. I share this struggle with you because I know there are many folks who find that their religious beliefs sometimes don't line up with those of the majority. One can feel very much alone at times, and perhaps it helps to know that many of us are seeking to find a community that exemplifies the welcoming embrace that the gospels proclaim so forcefully. Serious Bible study yields not a list of forbidden activities, but instead, illuminates a way of life that has as its hallmarks justice, truth and welcome. One would think those elements would be most evident in our churches, but one might be disappointed. Blessings on us all as we make these journeys towards our theological homes.

A Godly Interruption

After putting it away for weeks, I got out the syllabus for the course I am teaching during the fall semester. I last taught this course once a week, for three hours. Now I must adjust it to twice a week, and restructure it as a writing course for first-year students. So, I have been less than anxious to do that tweaking of the syllabus. The course grew out of work I did during my doctoral program. I took a course entitled "The Prophetic Tradition" and is one of just a few courses I have taken in my life that I would call transformative. The professor who taught it is quiet by nature, and the intensive format of the courses in my program meant that we had the class for eight hours a day for five days. I worried that the seminar would be a snooze, and there were times that the days seemed very long. Worst of all, it met in January in western New York. Not only was there three feet of snow, but the days were very short, and, by the time class ended each day, it was almost dark. Thank goodness I stayed with it, because the subject matter of the course, and the quiet, prophetic spirit of the man who taught it worked a miracle in my life. Over the years, I had become a bit disenchanted, and even lazy, when it came to thinking, talking and living out the social justice aspects of the Gospel. I didn't know that I needed the spark that class offered until I was there and knew that something within me had been rekindled. Aside from the excellent course content, I recall a day when one of the master's level students who were also taking the course arrived very late for class. I was annoyed at her noisy entrance, and the class stopped for a moment while she collected herself. She apologized to the professor, stating that she had just received a phone call with some bad news about a friend. He said he understood and then asked the class to join him in a moment of prayer. At that moment, I felt convicted of my hypocrisy and less than understanding heart. Where I could see only an interruption in the class, the professor saw a student who had been wounded and who needed a word of compassion and encouragement. In that moment, I knew that I needed to be more like him, and that I had to be more attentive to those moments that may be an interruption to my schedule, but that were opportunities to illustrate the community of faith's unwavering love for and support of its members. I have never forgotten that lesson, or that professor. I received an email from him last week, telling me that I would not be hearing from him much, because he had been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease, and he would be saving his energy for immediate tasks that needed doing. At that moment, I whispered a prayer for him, just as he has done for so many over the years, I am sure. I prayed that this quiet, brilliant and giant intellectual of a man will find courage, strength and the support of so many others now that he is traveling down a new path. The course I teach is a tribute to him and his understanding of the true meaning of the gospel message for our world. The prayer was a testimony to his loving and compassionate heart, to one who is not only brilliant, but who best exemplifies wisdom.

When Should Vengeance Give Way to Mercy?

"There may not be a single cemetery in Massachusetts or in the entire country that is willing to be Tamerlan Tsarnaev's final resting place, a funeral director told CNN on Monday." This headline has been playing for a couple of days now on the CNN website. Tsarnaev is one of the brothers who carried out the Boston Marathon bombings. He died in a shootout with police, and his body lies in a Boston funeral home. Relatives came and washed and dressed the body in Muslim custom, and are anxious that his body be buried, which is an essential part of Muslim custom as well. But no cemetery wants his body. I have thought about it, and I can understand that burying his body in Cambridge may be too close to where his destruction was carried out, and would be painful for the families of those who died. But, at some point, can we Americans let go of the part of our anger that is vengeance, and allow his family to bury him somewhere within our borders? Since the events of 9/11/01, we have become much too accomplished at holding grudges and demanding no mercy. Remember the outcry when the proposed Islamic Center near, but not even visible from, the site of the World Trade Center, was announced? When Lee Harvey Oswald, assassin of President Kennedy, was murdered, he was buried in a Dallas cemetery. The only pall-bearers that could be found were members of the news media who were covering his burial. Years later, his body was exhumed, and, inexplicably, his burial vault was found to be broken and the casket had disintegrated. I cannot help but wonder if a cemetery worker got in a final act of vengeance before the grave was filled. But there was no outcry at the time of the assassination that demanded that his family not be allowed to bury his body in Dallas. The pastor in me says that we should allow all people to be buried, even those who have committed heinous crimes, so that their families may have some closure. Tsarnaev had few friends, and even his extended family here in the states wanted little to do with him. and yet, those same family members came and performed rituals that are essential to their faith. Tsarnaev is dead, and he will never be able to harm anyone ever again. His brother will likely receive either a life sentence, or the death penalty. Do we also need to refuse to allow his family to bury the older brother? At what point do we find room for compassion, if not for the perpetrators, then for their families, some of whom had nothing to do with their crimes? Before you answer, read the Gospel where Jesus talks about forgiveness, and how many times we should forgive our enemies. It is not easy to read, but it is necessary, especially during these days of violence, fear and vengeance.

Some Thoughts for Earth Week.

We have had quite a week, haven't we? The news has been, and is still, full of accounts about the bombings in Boston. Add to that the terrible explosion in West, Texas, and one begins to wonder if all the world, or at least our corner of it, is headed down a very bad path. It is Earth Week, when we cannot help but be reminded that we have altered the earth's behavior in ways that may be, in fact, irreversible. What are people of faith to do, or think in the midst of all of the bad news? Well, to take a page from our Jewish brothers and sisters, Tikkun olam, or heal the world. The thinking behind this saying is that the world is broken and we all need to work together to fix it. It sounds simple, doesn't it? We can all work together to repair the broken people and places in the world. But it is not easy, because our attitudes get in the way too often. When I arrive at work each day, I park next to the same pickup truck which has a sticker on its rear cab window that states, "Welcome to America. Now, learn to speak English!" Each time I read that, I am troubled, because I think that what lies behind the sentiment of such a statement is, "Be like me, like the rest of us, and you will be welcome." Healing the broken bits and people of the world means learning to look at the world through new lenses. For people of faith, and I will speak of Christianity, since that is my tradition, we are to look through lenses that see the world and its people as objects of God's love. This then causes us to ask ourselves, "How can I hate someone or something that is loved by God?" How can we act carelessly regarding the natural world when we believe that it is the creation of God? How can we harbor prejudices against those who are different from us when the story of our faith tells us that Christ came for all people, not just for some? Earth Week is a good time to remind ourselves that we are guests on this planet, and we should treat it with respect. But we are also hosts, so we should treat all people as honored guests, at least in attitude. The young man who helped set off the bombs in Boston was a college student, the age of the people with whom I have spent most of my professional life. It's too late to turn his thinking from violence, he has killed and destroyed and broken members and parts of God's creation. What am I to think about him? Am I wrong to wonder if someone, anyone, will care about his spiritual needs? After all, he is a terrorist. So, I must struggle with that question as I contemplate Tikkun olam. His life does not fall outside the realm of lives needing healing, does it? Each of us must deal with God's demands upon us in our own way. This Earth Week, what special cares have been laid upon your heart?

In Times Like These.......

As I gaze out my office window, I see bright red tulips blooming, and the trees have begun to leaf out. If I look out the hall windows just outside my office door, I see a gorgeous weeping wild cherry tree in its full floral regalia. Looking at my computer screen, I read accounts of the horrific bombing in Boston on Monday. Glancing at my calendar, I see a "hold" for a memorial service that I will conduct in less than a week. So, this spring is one of life, and death, of indescribable beauty and agonizing tragedy. This spring season is a microcosm of life, isn't it? As members of a faith community, we are called to believe in life in the face of death, and hope in the midst of despair. There have been countless people throughout the centuries who have asked, "How can a loving God allow such things to happen?" I have no doubt that many people are asking themselves the same question today. But it's the wrong question, it really is. We are the people of God and we were created in God's image. But some people do terrible things, and others die for no good reason, and yet, we remain God's people. Don't hesitate to ask God "Why?" in your prayers and meditations. God knows of our sadness and frustration before we even ask, and better than anyone, God knows why we ask. But don't expect to be able to make sense of tragedy, because sometimes, most times, tragedy makes no sense. Random acts of violence appear to serve a purpose only in the minds of those who commit them. We will never be able to resolve the sense of unfairness and outrage that we may feel when something bad happens in our lives, or in the lives of those we love. Our faith tells us not to respond to violence in kind, but that is not a popular option. How are we to believe that good can prevail when so much that happens around us seems to indicate otherwise? Remember the events of Holy Week and of Easter, and against all evidence to the contrary, believe in God's providential care and love. After all, what are the other options that will not cause us to be consumed with hate and thoughts of revenge? There is a quote I heard once, and I don't know who wrote it, but it has given me immense comfort over the years. In these uncertain times, remember these words: "When you come to the end of all of the light you know, and stand at the edge of darkness, faith says that one of two things will happen: either you will step onto something solid, or you will be taught to fly."

Is It Just Me?

I spoke to a university class this week about leadership. Actually, they peppered me with questions for more than two hours and I responded. It was a great exercise in mental acuity, or lack thereof. I spoke of my understanding of scripture, and how having been a biblical studies major has been of great help in my professional and personal life. Many students nodded approval, while at least one looked at me with concern. It was that look that says, "How can you claim to be a Christian and believe that way?" I have seen that look often, beginning in my own college days, when I finally began thinking for myself regarding my religious beliefs. Why is it that those of us who preach about a more open and hospitable faith are those who get the stares from other people of faith? Why is the assumption always seemingly that we are wrong and they are right? Who said that Jesus was the founder of a close-minded religion, more concerned with keeping people out than letting them in to the Kingdom? Along those lines, someone referred me to a new branch of a mainline Protestant denomination that has formed in the past couple of years. So, I went to the website and checked out the confession of faith. Before doing so I kept wondering why this particular denomination gave birth to a new splinter group? I had my suspicions, which I hoped were not true. However, my suspicions were confirmed when I read the church's definition of marriage and family. You know what's coming, don't you? A family is defined there as a father, mother and children. Marriage is to be understood solely as a union of a man and woman. So, this new church, then, has laid out the welcome mat for heterosexual people only. And I wonder to myself, why? I am the first to admit that I don't have a corner on religious knowledge or correct faith practice. But I do claim that my Christian faith and understandings are based on a lifetime of study and reflection on scripture and tradition. I am not going back to the exclusivist theology of my young adult years. I would much rather view others as potential friends and kindred spirits, even when their religious beliefs differ from mine, and even when they claim no beliefs. Perhaps the worst to be said about me after I die will be that I was too open and accepting of others. And I can live with that.

Easter is Past, Now What?

Easter Sunday has come and gone. Now it becomes a challenge for pastors to hold the attention of our faith communities as we progress through the Sundays of Easter, on the way to Pentecost. For those of us who lead congregations in academic communities, the challenge is also how to keep folks engaged while, all around us, signs of the end are evident. Final projects will come due, a flurry of presentations and lunch discussions will occur, and students are beginning to panic about final exams. Faculty and staff are wondering if, a) the weather will ever warm up and, b) if the academic year will ever end and will they get everything done before it does. So, perhaps this is the time to reinforce the message of Easter: our lives don't have to go on in exactly the same way as they have! The resurrection tells us that life as we know it changed, once and for all, a long time ago. Fortunately, we get a yearly reminder at Easter, because our spiritual memories are quite short. It is so easy to get caught up in all of our work and responsibilities, and to forget that our Christian faith also applies to those real world headaches. Easter is prophetic, it dares to speak out in the midst of skepticism, boredom and "business as usual" to proclaim that God has broken through the ennui of our sometimes hum-drum existence. Prophetic voices call us to alternative ways that dare us to become excited about Jesus "third" way, which goes up against the usual ways of doing things in every time and place. God's economy is not ours, and time is not an enemy of the Kingdom. So, be glad and rejoice. You have not been left behind after Easter. God will continue to lead you into new ways of living, loving and service. We have, once again, been reminded that life never need be the same again. Alleluia!

A Holy Week

Holy Week. It's a term that means something special to many Christians, and absolutely nothing to many others. For some it is a week to contemplate the last week of Jesus' earthly life, and to think about what it means to live sacrificially. For others, it is a countdown to Easter Sunday, to the festivities and to the reality of the resurrection. I have said it for years and years: one cannot get to Easter Sunday without going through Good Friday. I have been criticized, with some saying that the resurrection trumps all else, and that the need for Good Friday is now done away with, because it did not have the last word. Attendance at my annual Good Friday prayer service is slim, indeed. We just don't want to take the time, it seems, to be reminded of something that is not pretty. And that is exactly the point: Holy Week is not pretty, and it makes us think about terrible events in the life of the One whom God sent to be with us. Perhaps we think we cannot look upon it because we are unworthy, and it reminds us of the distance there is to go between who we should be as Christians, and who we really are. And that's the crux of Good Friday: we look unfaithfulness and betrayal in the eye, and we gaze upon the horror of the murder of Jesus, the very one who did not deserve to die. We cannot understand, adequately, the transforming power of the resurrection in the life of the followers of Jesus until we look, unflinchingly, at the ways in which that first faith community nearly fell apart. The downward spiral of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday was hastened by the abandonment of Jesus by those closest to him. And once they abandoned him, they could not face him, or those who persecuted him, so they fled, quite simply. And that is where Good Friday leaves us, alone and feeling forsaken, until sunrise on Easter Sunday. But let's not jump to Easter right away. Linger with Jesus, in that desolate place, for just a while, so that you may take in the enormity of what is meant by sacrificial love, and view the lengths to which God was willing to go to demonstrate that love. In that silence and darkness are to be found the seeds that will blossom into a proper celebration of the resurrection. May God be with you this Holy Week.

Not Just Another Week.

We face Holy Week next week, preceded by Palm/Passion Sunday. So many people have reacted with surprise when I mention that Palm Sunday is nearly here. Maybe it is due to the fact that Easter is early this year, and the weather, thus far in March, has been anything but spring-like. Nevertheless, the most sacred week in the Christian calendar is almost upon us. What I have discovered, over the years, is the disconnect that more and more people feel with the whole week, aside from Easter. I gave up holding a Maundy Thursday service on campus years ago, because almost no one attended. I was told by one person this year that Maundy Thursday is a "Catholic" holiday, and that Protestants do not observe it. He was wrong, of course, but that perception is widespread. I continue to offer a prayer service at noon on Good Friday, but the attendance is always very low. Our natural inclination as people, and as Christians, is to want to get past the hard stuff and get right to Easter. Good Friday is a downer, so we do our best not to think about it. And yet, how can we possibly celebrate Easter as we should if we have not been willing to look at the events that preceded the resurrection? Fair-weather Christianity is very popular in America, where we can always feel good and not have to deal with unpleasantries. However, I am encouraged by the election of Pope Francis, because he implores all who hear him preach to remember the poor, and he has expressed his vision of having a church that is poor so that the poor may be rich. I think he captures the spirit of the Holy Week message quite well. So, I challenge you to attend a Palm/Passion Sunday service this weekend, even if it has not been a part of your tradition until now. It is the way to best prepare for what is coming, and it is the time for each of us to ask ourselves if we can, indeed, stand with Christ as he faces his trial and crucifixion. For how can we look him in the face on Easter if we have abandoned him in the days leading up to his resurrection? May you have a meaningful Holy Week.

What Is the Question?

It has been one of those weeks in which I have heard from several people regarding tragedies in their lives, or in the lives of persons close to them. Somehow, I always feel that, in the back of their mind, their question for me is, "Where is God in all of this?" I don't blame them, for I have asked myself that question many times when looking at the world and its injustices and tragedies, as well as my own life, and the pitfalls I have encountered along the way. Let me preface my remarks by saying that, when some difficulty has arisen in my own life, I cannot say that what I am about to say brought me comfort right away or made the process any easier. But, in hindsight, it has enabled me to take the long view of God and the world, and my experience of both. Currently, I am leading a Bible study on the book of Job, a book which few people have the patience or fortitude to stay with for very long, because IT IS VERY LONG! And yet, many will brighten up and convey their feelings about the book when I mention it. Upon further questioning about the book, it becomes apparent that not many folks have read it all and really wrestled with its message. There is not room here to go into great detail about the book and its characters, nor will I discuss the difficulty evident in the very first couple of chapters of the book, when God makes a deal with Satan. Some folks I have known have not been able to get past that first part. What kind of God gambles with the life of a just man? And that leads me to say that we tend to approach God and the problem of evil by asking the wrong question. If one reads the book of Job with the question "Why" guiding the search, one will likely be disappointed. Job spent very little time with that one as well, though his wife and friends seemed obsessed with it. Asking "why" when tragedy happens is natural, because we hope that knowing why will help make sense of it. In reality, little makes sense when something bad happens. Knowing why something happened does little to lessen the pain, and we still have the loss and pain, don't we? Job kept asking God to appear to him, because he was wondering where God had gone, now that Job was living in desolation. His friends had no patience with such things, and, instead, kept trying to explain away the evil. Job would have none of it, and he persisted in seeking out God, refusing to take no for an answer. And there it is: whatever our sadness or tragedy, whatever our loss or disappointment, we can find a clue to survival in the story of Job. We may never know why a bad or painful thing has happened, but we should never stop beating a path to God's door to insist on God's presence as we go through such events. In the end, what Job received was not an answer to his suffering, what he received was God. Be honest, can you really ask for anything more?

Getting Lost in the Majesty, and Finding God in the Process.

We are near the end of the season of Epiphany. We talk about the season, but not much about the word itself. What is an "epiphany?" Well, the word itself means manifestation, striking appearance or an experience of sudden and striking realization. Had any of those lately? And the final Sunday in Epiphany, the Transfiguration, provides us with an account of a theophany. What is that? A theophany is a visible manifestation of a deity. In our case this week, it is an appearance of Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus. Now there is a not-everyday-event! But I wonder if epiphanies and theophanies are more prevalent than we have been led to believe? Jesus was seen in the company of two men considered patriarchs of Judaism, men associated with the very roots of Jewish faith and practice. I cannot help but be reminded of the tendency in American Christianity, is some quarters, at least, to do away with creeds and symbols, and sometimes liturgy itself, in the belief that the Spirit of God needs no trappings to make itself known. Hard to argue with that. But I think that it is not the Spirit of God that needs help in this regard anyway. It is us! Who among us would not give our eye-teeth to have a real encounter with the biblical figure, such as Jesus experienced? For a long time I have been saddened at the way that worship has changed, even in my own denomination. Organs and choirs have been replaced with praise bands and gospel choirs, both very good, indeed. I loved our Christian fellowship gatherings in college with guitars, and one really, really badly played banjo.But I also loved the majesty of the 4100 pipe organ in our chapel, and of the way I felt in that place. I have thought alot about that since I arrived at Bucknell, where we have a gorgeous chapel, magnificent choirs and organ, and people who can direct and play them. We have a healthy attendance, but still many students will not attend because they think it irrelevant or too structured, and have been taught to be wary of "liturgy." Then I read something in the February, 2013 issue of Sojourners Magazine that gave me hope. Two self-identified "twenty-somethings" talk about their feeling that something was missing in their evangelical worship life, so they attended a local Episcopal Church. Their two observations? 1) I want to be part of something larger than myself, and 2) I want to find my own meaning in Christian faith and practice. They tell of the meaning that the communion ritual holds for them, and how they found God anew in the liturgy, which was foreign to them, initially. Sometimes, God can be experienced best in a place where we can realize that it's not about us, and where we can lose ourselves in something that transcends us. So, if you have longed for an epiphany or theophany for a while, find a place of worship whose magnificence might just transport you to a mountain top of your own, if only for a brief moment. It might indeed be Episcopal, or Baptist, United Methodist or Presbyterian,or any other church that has been declared dead or dying. Some of them have held on to beautiful liturgy and worship, because we can find God in a place that does not hide its history or toss out the creeds and liturgies that have sustained the Christian community for hundreds upon hundreds of years. We will have trouble finding the way forward if we don't know where we have been.

Any Cliff Will Do! Luke 4:14 - 21

This coming Sunday's Gospel lesson is taken from Luke 4:14-21. The event marks Jesus' first appearance in his hometown synagogue since his baptism and commissioning. Imagine all of the townsfolk who gathered to hear what the local boy had to say. At first blush, it seems that Jesus spoke words of hope and promise. But then he answered a question posed by someone, and by the time he finished his answer, the local folks were in search of the highest cliff over which to toss him. And so, a question arose in my sometimes fertile imagination: When we ask God to speak to us, or offer us a sign of God's presence for our lives, do we really want that? Or do we want God to confirm what it is we already believe? Are we open to being surprised, even ticked-off, by the Spirit? I cannot help but think that"localized" Christianity, that is, the brand of Christianity that each of us identifies with, wants answers that feel familiar, and safe and that legitimate that which we already believe. After all, the folks in Nazareth were, at first, really happy that the "anointed" one came from their locale. However, once he began to speak in the synagogue, many of them wished that he belonged to another synagogue in another town. My first parish assignment was just four miles from home. On the whole, folks were very welcoming of this "kid" fresh from divinity school, whose father was born in that very town. But I recall clearly an open meeting when the construction of a new post office was being discussed. Behind the scenes, much was already decided upon before the required open meeting was held. When I expressed my reservations about the plan and the process, a man in the front row told me to shut up or he would kick my.........well, you get the picture. At that moment, I realized with horror that said town had seven hills from which I could be tossed. Our faith should make us uncomfortable at times, or else, it may not be, truly, our faith, but a hand- me- down set of beliefs that we simply accepted without thinking about their ramifications in real life. So, read the Lukan passage again and picture yourself there. Would you have been the one reading and offering commentary on the Isaiah passage, or would you have been a member of the crew scouting for a precipice?

Not All Alone - Ever!

This week's Gospel reading is from Luke, chapter 3, and deals with Jesus' baptism. The main difference between Luke's account and the accounts in the other synoptic Gospels has to do with the fact that Luke's Gospel has no human actor actually performing the baptism. Luke mentions that John was imprisoned by this time due to his mouthing off to Herod. Mark and Matthew mention John's performing the baptism, while Luke and John do not. What are we to make of this? Probably not much, except that Luke and John remind us that God can do things without us. They describe Jesus being baptized with the Holy Spirit, indicating God's direct action. When I was ordained, it was a long time before I could get my head around the fact that I could "officially" baptize folks and consecrate communion elements. It bothered me for a while; after all, who was I that I should get to do such things? I still think about it, but have made peace with it in that I am an instrument used to convey the reality of what God has already done. Whoever performed your baptism, God was there first and was present at the baptism. The Church has decreed that persons be set apart for sacramental duties, which for Protestants usually include Baptism and Communion, or the Eucharist. So, that refers to people like me. However, we would do well to remember the old saying that a church has one pastor, and many ministers. All of us can be channels of God's love and grace to others. If there is a sin which we tend to repeat as a body, it is forgetting, or denying that reality, opting instead for some sense of false modesty or humility. We are not all ordained, but we are all called. So, remember your baptism, both the one with water and the one which, I believe, is on-going, when God's Spirit infuses us with the strength and ability to live lives worthy of emulating. You may be someone's introduction to the manifestation of God's love and the embodiment of the Christian faith. Don't worry, God was there before you, and is there with you. Have a great week!

The Best New Year's Resolution.

I was thinking today, while sweating away in the gym, about New Year's resolutions. This is the time of year when folks are encouraged to buy that workout device, available for six easy payments of $19.95, plus shipping and handling (in other words, an extra $25 just for fun). Or perhaps you will start a new diet, or decide to read that book or write that memoir. I began a regular exercise routine when I graduated from divinity school, but it was not a new year's resolution. I just thought I should work to remain fit, and believe me, it gets harder each year, and the results are never what I hope for, but I keep on keeping on. For better or worse, this is the body God, and my mom, gave to me, so I need to take care of it. But what about taking care of one another, is that ever a resolution for us? So, as I was peddling furiously and going nowhere in the gym this morning, I thought of the best resolution of all. Jesus was asked what is the greatest commandment. He gave a two-for-one answer: "Love the Lord your God with all of your heart and mind and soul. And love your neighbor as yourself." It seems to me that no new year's resolution can improve on that. If we would just incorporate this simple, yet difficult commandment into our personal and corporate lives, imagine what the results might be. From the kitchen table, to the workplace, to the halls of Congress, perhaps folks might behave in a more civil manner. Happy New Year!