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in which I feel more and more like a stranger, seeing our historic emphasis upon social justice increasingly superseded by calls for "traditional family values" and "getting tough on crime" and "restoring God to government."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!