A Glimpse of the Kingdom

The academic year has ended, Commencement commenced and now I prepare for next year. I forget, sometimes, how little life on a college campus has in common with the outside world. Take yesterday, for instance. I was chatting with someone who recounted, in horror, the time that her daughter brought home a guy of another race. This person and I grew up in the same region of the country, so I knew the mindset out of which she was speaking. However, I found myself taken aback and not able to identify with her feelings of shock and disapproval. There was another instance, recently, when I was talking with someone and the subject of same-sex attraction came up. Immediately, it was obvious that we were not on the same page regarding the subject.
These instances, and others that I could cite, attest to the world in which I live and work. It is a world in which the population changes every four years and life seems always in a state of flux for that reason. I lead worship services for a congregation that is racially mixed oftentimes, and I forget that such is not the case in many places of worship in the United States today. I meet with students who are looking for advocates to help sustain their efforts to bring attention to instances of injustice in the world, and , sometimes, on campus. In such a small community as a liberal arts college, folks get to know one another well. More so than on the outside, students become protective of one another, even if they don't share one another's ideologies or political or religious beliefs. Therefore, whenever I chat with someone who does not work in such an environment, I am caught off guard sometimes by an individual's fear of someone from a middle-eastern country, or a person of another race, or of someone who is gay or someone who has differing political views.
You see, I work with young adults who often make stupid choices regarding alcohol consumption and can be promiscuous sexually, though the majority are not. But these young people are also determined to be more accepting of those with whom they differ, and who are less likely to think that race or ethnicity matter in relationships as much as folks of my generation do. I can offer new interpretations of the Gospel that would cause an uproar in the parish, but here, such ideas about Jesus' concern for all people and my enthusiasm for interfaith cooperation are met with joy and a willingness to explore new avenues of ministry. So, it occurs to me that, though life in an academic community can exhaust one in ways unimagined outside the campus perimeter, life here is shot through with idealism, energy and hope. Working with students who are so accepting of one another gives me a glimpse of the kingdom of God that not many get to see.

F.O.G. - F.O.J. John 15:9-17

When Bill Clinton was running for president, and afterward, members of his inner circle were known as F.O.B.'s, as in, Friends of Bill. Barry Chance, writing in the on-line source, Join the Feast, speaks of the people who practice the kind of love Jesus talks about in John 15 as Friends of God and Friends of Jesus. The love which John describes, agape love, is a selfless giving for others. It was the kind of love that defined Jesus. In John's gospel, those whom Jesus loves are defined as philios, the friends of Jesus who experienced that transforming love. Gandhi is said to have stated that he liked the tenets of Christianity very much. He never converted to Christianity because he said that he did not see Christians living out the love that Jesus proclaimed.
On more than one occasion, my wife has turned to me and stated that she is very glad that I chose a career in ministry in higher education as opposed to life as a parish pastor. And she knows that of which she speaks; I was a parish pastor for more than seven years. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I experienced such transformative love and encouragement as a young divinity school graduate by the folks of my first parish. Later, I served a small parish in another state, and one of the churches on that circuit exemplified some of the most unloving behavior that either my wife or I had ever experienced. She stopped attending the women's group because most of the time was spent gossipping about women who were not in attendance. Don't get me wrong; there is nastiness everywhere, including among students on a college or university campus. However, I have seen more evidence of the transformative power of love and acceptance in the lives of the students with whom I work than I have the less attractive side of life. Young adults can have a tremendous capacity for changing their minds and opening themselves to new ideas. I see so much less of the hatred towards some segments of society when I am with them than I read about in church publications or hear at annual conference. I have met so many young adults who are F.O.G.'s and F.O.J.'s. They live out the kind of love that Jesus talks about in John's gospel, the kind of love that some folks in the church deram about but despair of seeing come to fruition. Perhaps these same young adults will lead the way towards helping the church reclaim that love that is visible, certainly in some churches and faith communitites, but nearly enough of them.

Abiding Love - John 15:1-8

When my niece was baptized, I asked a friend to sing a song entitled "Abiding Love." I have not heard that song since, and I think the reason I chose it way back then was because she sang it so beautifully, and because I had a crush on her. I was a teenager then, and the word abiding had a limited meaning, because I had not lived long enough to know what it meant for something or someone's love "to abide." Now that I have the wisdom that comes with being fifty-something, I have a better idea.
In John's gospel, Jesus speaks of abiding in us and us abiding in him. I know that I understand that passage very differently than I did when I was in college. My Christian friends and I looked at the idea of Jesus abiding in us as having an exclusive hold on that love, because so many other students were not like us. It is easy to overlook the fact that, in the same passage where Jesus speaks of abiding love, he also speaks about the need to prune the vines every now and then. I was moved by an old column written by Walter Wink, as he referred to such a pruning process in his own life. He likened it to cooking in the fires of purgatory, and then reflected on its true meaning for him: Something in me stayed with the process simply because God was in it. This, too, was a way to abide. "Abide in me and I in you," even in the purgatorial fires of individuation. Abide in me, even when it feels as if you are being consumed. Abide in me, for there are branches that, when pruned, can be used to build the inferno in which you can be cooked, and cleansed, and slowly shaped into a human being.
I like to think I have become a better human being as a result of the pruning in my own life. That pruning has come in the form of reprimands, encouragement, loss, love, rejection, wilderness wanderings, mountaintop experiences and God's gracious forbearance in waiting me out when I have felt rebellious. Abiding love - God's assurance that we will not have the last word.

A Deeper Look at the Good Shepherd- John 10:11-18

The text in which Jesus refers to himself as the Good Shepherd is a challenging one for the simple reason that we are pretty sure that we know what a good shepherd is like. Many of us learned the words to Psalm 23 when we were just tots, and we cannot help but apply those images to Jesus, just as he probably had the same Psalm in mind when he referred to himself as the Good Shepherd. Often, when I have spoken about this passage, I have referred to sheep as being less than intelligent, which is why it can be such a challenge leading them. I was told recently that sheep do not have great eyesight, so they tend to focus on what is close at hand. I don't know if that is true or not. However, I came across some writings this week that cause me to want to look at this familiar passage again with eyes that fully embrace the shepherd imagery.
Harvard chaplain Peter Gomes once wrote about the custom in early New England of referring to the founding of churches as the "gathering" of the church. Cornerstones are inscribed with the words "..Gathered in 1687..." instead of "founded." What a different dynamic such language sets up for us. To say that a church was founded calls to mind a small group of folks establishing a congregation, electing officers and scheduling meetings. Or, perhaps that is my United Methodist heritage peeking through. However, to gather a congregation calls to mind the actions of another, a leader, a caretaker, a shepherd, if you will. It fosters the idea that God had a part in bringing said congregation into being that the word founded just does not communicate. God was there at its gathering to nurture and care for the congregation, just as a shepherd or shepherdess gathers and cares for a flock.
In my reading I came across the opening words to the Heidelberg Catechism, the foundation document of the Reformed Church, and ancestor of the United Church of Christ. The catechism asks, "What is your only comfort in life and death?" The first two elements of the response: "That I belong, body and soul - in life and death - not to myself, but to my faithful savior, Jesus Christ."
When one combines the image of being gathered together by God with the affirmation that one belongs not to oneself, but to a faithful savior, the image of the Good Shepherd comes alive with life-altering force. Nothing else needs to be said.

How Do We Keep the Feeling? Luke 24:13-35

Though the lectionary deals with the end of Luke's 24th chapter this week, I have chosen to discuss the first part of the chapter. I am continually intrigued by the account of the journey to Emmaus and the revelation that took place there.I prefer the first part of the chapter, because in that account, by the time that his followers recognize him, Jesus disappears from their midst. The assigned text for the day, from the latter part of the chapter, has Jesus appearing to the disciples, eating in front of them and showing them his wounds. It smacks too much of our need for proof, and I think we need to spend more time getting away from that kind of thinking.
The two people traveling to Emmaus, Cleopas, about whom we know nothing else, and an unnamed companion, are joined by a third person, who seems oblivious to the goings on of the past few days. The walk takes place on Sunday evening, so news of the purported resurrection of Jesus that morning had reached their ears, though they did not know what to make of it. The stranger who walked with them was surprised that they did not seem to grasp the natural progression of events, and he told them as much. He then taught them as one who knew about such things. Just as the conversation was getting really interesting, they reached their turn-off on the road and the stranger appeared to be going on ahead. Customary rules of hospitality bade them to invite him to their place for food and lodging, and he accepted. While they were eating, in the breaking of bread, Jesus was made known to them, and then he was gone.
We just hate it when that happens. Just as God is within reach, God hot-foots it out of there.But what is more important than the fact that Jesus was made known to them was the way they felt when he was with them. "Did our hearts not burn within us?" was the way the fellow travelers expressed their amazement. And that, I think, is at the heart of our longing for some kind of encounter with a physical manifestation of God. Ronald Goetz, writing in the Christian Century years ago, stated that what the believers experienced was "not a revivification of the man they had known, but rather, one knowable only by a miracle of self-disclosure." Goetz then went on to get at the heart of our longing by comparing it to the experience of the commingling of the bonds of affection that occurs between friends or lovers. Those first encounters are almost over-powering in the mutual experience of common interests, feelings and even passions. Can we remember the first date with a current or former lover? Remember the quickening of the pulse, the clammy skin when you finally got up the courage to actually hold hands? Recall the intense longing after you parted, whether for a day, or forever? On the flip side, how about those who remained friends or lovers after those initial feelings of shared affection? Have you found yourself trying to reclaim those early fireworks, only to find that now you seem bored, or at least uninspired with the relationship? Goetz stated that the Other, who became almost as real as one's own self, does not and cannot stay. Moods change, interest fades, the Thou becomes an It. That first moment cannot last. Like the heavenly manna of the Exodus, the experience of that initial love cannot be stored and preserved.
When Jesus vanished from the midst of his new friends, they had only the memory of how they felt when in his presence. It's fleeting nature is what made it so exciting, so precious, so remarkable. As they, and the early church would soon discover, that memory would have to be enough. And it must be enough still. We cannot recreate those moments of self-disclosure, either by God, or by friends and lovers. We can only treasure them, meditate on them and try to understand them in the context of our fleeting lives. They are blessings on the journey and signposts to the Kingdom that awaits us, in this world, and the next.

So, What DID Become of Sin? I John 1:1-2:2

Yes, there was a famous book written by Dr. Karl Menninger back in the 1960's whose title asked "Whatever Became of Sin?" I even have that book on my office bookshelf; it was one of the first books I bought for free reading when I was a divinity student. As I recall, I read about half of it. Menninger was a psychotherapist, and he wondered if we had risen above the need to call anything sin anymore. He felt that we attempted to explain everything away through psychological processes and counseling. I still think his point was valid. Don't get me wrong, after all, I hold a graduate degree in counseling, so I do believe in its merits. But I have come to believe that we so misunderstand the whole concept of sin that it has been rendered mostly meaningless. But it really should not be so.
Now, let's think about what comes to mind when we say the word "sin". Is a sin telling a lie, falsifying one's income taxes, or going too far when out on a date? Many of us were raised with such definitions of sin. But to think of sins as individual acts misses the true meaning and danger of sin. The writer of I John asks how we can say we have no sin when we are sinners? By denying we are sinners, we become liars. Truth is, sin is not individual acts but a state of being. I think sin is reflected in the general cynicism, dishonesty and judgmental way in which we tend to view others. Instead of practicing the Christian hospitality that welcomes the stranger so that he or she becomes a friend, or at least a member of our community, we exclude folks who do not measure up to our idea of what is acceptable. We all remember the boy or girl in junior high and high school who did not fit in for whatever reason, and who was mocked and isolated by other students.
I cannot help but mention the saga of the latest media darling, Susan Boyle, whose audition for Britain's Got Talent has catapulted her into international stardom. She is a plainspoken woman from Northeastern Scotland who happens to have been blessed with a remarkable singing voice. Before she sang on the show, the judges and audience members treated her with a condescending sense of tolerance and amusement. After she sang, they fell over one another praising her. Susan Boyle has touched me deeply, because hers is a story of one who has had a challenging life; she was born with a slight disability that causes here to be perceived as lacking in social graces. She has been the target of neighborhood kids who ring her doorbell and run away. After her performance on TV, she remarked on how great it is to be congratulated by children in the street. So, what has changed to make her suddenly cool? People saw another side of her, there is a groundswell of love and support for her now, and folks are caught in that rising tide. But Susan Boyle, a faithful Catholic who cared for her elderly mother for years, has always been special in the eyes of God. Why is it that many who live in her village did not think so until now?
We have just come through the miracle of Easter; can we change our daily behavior to reflect that miracle? Can we love the unlovable, laugh with, and not at, people who do not seem to fit in? Can we admit that sin, properly understood, is a condition that causes us to separate ourselves from the realm of God's love for all people? And do we have the willpower to rise above the common cynicism of our time to show zero tolerance anytime anyone is singled out for ridicule, or cast out of the "accepted" community. I hope so, because only then can we say that we are trying to rise above sin and walk in the truth about which the writer of I John spoke.

Another Easter, Another Missed Opportunity?

We have come through another Easter Sunday, with churches filled to the brim and folks feeling inspired afterwards. I don't think we will ever know, truly, what brings people out to church on Easter Sunday. Unlike some more skeptical folks, I don't think it has as much to do with making a fashion statement as it does with folks wanting to feel that they are part of something very special. So, once a year our churches are full and we have such an opportunity to address the meaning of the day. And I cannot help but feeling that we never really address it in the way that would be most effective.
I could not help but notice that, although we are in the lectionary cycle that features the gospel of Mark, John's account is also offered as the text for Easter Sunday. The church that my family and I attended used the Johannine passage. I am curious as to why the Markan account is not enough for the day and why we have to fall back on John's more detailed account. And what if we read the account from Mark and stop where many of the most ancient manuscripts did, at 16:8? Instead of an account where Mary sees Jesus at the tomb and assumes that he is the gardener, Mark gives us an account of a young man in the tomb who tells folks not to be alarmed, but the Jesus they have come looking for is not in the tomb, but has gone before them into Galilee. The young man told them that they would see Jesus there, out in the world among folks, just as he had told them. Why is that account not enough for us?
People come out on Easter and they want a show, they want the stops pulled out all the way. Might I go so far as to say that they want whatever proof the pastor can offer that the story is true? That task may seem easier with an account that has Jesus actually appearing to the disciples. Even Mark's gospel has an alternate ending, with more of Jesus and less left to the imagination.
As for me, give me the shorter ending every time. The empty tomb is plenty for me; I don't need to read about Jesus appearing to many people, as if such an account can remove all of the desire for more proof that each of us wants, secretly, or not. Truth is, I want it to be left to me to figure out, on my own. I know the story, I know the faith, so let me try to reason it through. Make me think it through, pray it through, read it through. I want to be challenged to look for Jesus "out there" among the people. I think we get way too attached to the empty tomb. I remember reading long ago that when we have an empty tomb, all we have is a tomb without a body in it.We should spend less time wondering if the shroud of Turin is authentic, because it means nothing. What matters most is the life that Jesus lived, and the sacrifice that he made on Friday. Students are amazed when I tell them that I believe Good Friday to be the most important day of the Chrsitian year. It is the authenticity of Jesus, his faithfulness to the message that he taught, and to his calling from God, that matters most. He was loving, obedient, and his words and his activities were seamless; he was the real deal. I prefer Mark's shorter ending, because it makes me keep looking for Christ in everyone I see and everywhere I go. That is something that lasts longer than the Easter Sunday service; it renews me daily, all year long.