Still Here, and Glad to Be So.

Before I offered my Baccalaureate address this past Saturday, I told those gathered that I had never before presided at a Baccalaureate service held on a day that the world was predicted to end. I told them that, should something happen and some of them be taken away, I would still be there preaching for those who remained behind. Truth is, I would much rather hang out with those who are seeking answers than to spend eternity with those who want to be a part of the 2 - 3% of the earth's population spared from a final cataclysmic event. I hung out with enough of those types in college to last me for a lifetime. How is it that the faith that teaches the most benevolent and grace-filled message of all religions attracts those who like to keep score even more than my mean old third grade teacher? When I took a course in Pauline theology in college, our professor talked about the now-famous verse in I Thessalonians 4 that has come to be know as the "rapture" (a word which never appears in scripture!). Paul expected the coming of Christ at any minute at that point in his career. However, as one reads other, later letters of Paul, it becomes clear that he expected to die before Christ ever returned. I guess that my wonder at such Bible illiteracy is tied up with my on-going question as to why my theology and knowledge of the Bible is suspect by some, while that of those with no training in biblical studies is not. I learned a long time ago in my parish work that, no matter how many years of theological training one has under his or her belt, one always loses out to what "grandma" told a family member. I find it fascinating that, although the mainstream media dismisses the modern day prophets of doom, they spent countless time covering their predictions. They also have no interest in what educated people have to say on the subject. Face it, the world WILL end someday. While I doubt very much that it will happen in my lifetime, I don't know that for certain. If I am a person of faith, as I claim to be, then I must assert that, whenever it happens, God will care for all of God's people, not only for a fortunate few who enjoyed reading the tea leaves.

Christ is Risen! Osama is Dead! And We Want to See His Photo?

Since my wife and I switched churches about five months ago, our experiences of Holy Week and Easter were magnified and enriched in ways that we had not foreseen. Easter Sunday was glorious, joyful, and one woman was overheard exclaiming while leaving the sanctuary, "This is the place to be on Easter!" And so we celebrated the resurrection of our Lord, with spring finally coming to the Lehigh Valley. Just one week later, our students gathered on the Quad at midnight, with beer and fireworks, to celebrate the news that Osama bin Laden had been killed. The news media has spoken of little else since then, even though thousands of Americans are dealing with devastation caused by tornadoes and flooding in the Midwest and South. At Bible study on Monday, I asked the students how they felt about all of the hoopla. They said that they understood the celebrations, even though some of them were not even in their teens when the World Trade Center attacks occurred. There was a sense of dis-ease as they talked, and I asked why they felt a bit of discomfort. It came down to the same discomfort I had been experiencing: should Christians really be celebrating the death of anyone? We talked about who is a child of God, and the consensus was that all people are children of God, though some run from the positive potentials that such a birthright entails. Hitler, Bin Laden and others were born as God's children. They then chose to take the path of evil, but they never could move out of the sphere of God's love. Such words will cause some to wince, I know. We love to hate our enemies and to see them get what they deserve. There is great debate now as to whether or not the photos of the dead Bin Laden will be, or should be, released. My belief: they will be released, but should not be released. The man is dead and buried at sea, but the book is not closed on his reign of terror. We want to revel in his defeat, because we want the pain of those attacks ten years ago to recede, though, in reality, for those who lost loved ones, they never shall recede fully. We mourn our loved ones who have died because our lives seem empty without them. Our grief is a tribute to their impact upon us, and their absence causes us pain. Somewhere, someone is grieving the death of Osama, because he was someone's son and brother, spouse and father. I do not grieve for him because I did not know him, and certainly did not understand his madness. I do grieve for those who celebrate his death, who want to see the photos of his corpse, because, for them, the rage and anger and horror at his atrocities will not abate. It is very difficult to give up our need to get even, to feel that justice has been served. It is difficult, but not impossible. The message of Easter is that all of our attitudes, our fears and our hatred can be subsumed in the resurrection and we can rise to a new level of living in which we need not hate. For many Christians, the resurrection has only to do with life after death, but with no practical application here in this life. Christ's death and resurrection makes it unnecessary for us to need vengeance, because God has taken care of settling scores once and for all. Not even monsters like Hitler and Bin Laden get to have the final word. In life, in death, in life beyond death, we are not alone. God is with us. Thanks be to God.

Another Holy Week.

Holy Week is again upon us. Palm/Passion Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Sunday.  Some years, these days bring special reflection and introspection. Other years, they seem like just another day on the calendar. No matter what kind of year I had been having, time was when Lent and Holy Week elevated my spiritual life in a way that sustained me through the rest of the year. I remember in high school, when my spiritual life was really in a growth spurt, that Good Friday was a day that transformed me and made the whole Easter celebration real in a way that it had never been before.  Through college and divinity school, I always found a way to kick-start my spiritual life that enabled me to do my academic work with a sense of purpose. During the time that I served churches, I strove to make the whole Lenten/Holy Week/Easter experience something that could be transformative to my congregations. I met a huge challenge while serving a three-point charge in eastern North Carolina and discovered that Maundy Thursday was not something the people there had ever heard of, and they were not accustomed to coming to worship on Good Friday either. So, I grew in ways I had not expected in order to adapt to the local customs. Then I entered the wonderful world of campus ministry and was based at a large church that made the most of all religious holidays. We had Maundy Thursday services with stripping of the church, and Easter sunrise services with paschal fire, and a glorious service of resurrection, packed to the rafters and featuring magnificent choral music.
Since that time, I have been on my own, pretty much, to design worship and other experiences to appeal to small numbers of students who take the time for such observances. I was happy that my own daughter, for whom I was chaplain for two years, always took the time for such observances. She and I are so similar in the way that the religious holidays and observances shape our lives. At this point in my career and ministry, I had come to expect not much new when Holy Week rolls around. When I was able to get away on a Sunday morning, I attended a local United Methodist Church, just as I have all of my life.  In the past years, I began to lose enthusiasm, for my church, and for the Christian year as it came round and round. Then I made the decision to find a church that speaks to me, liturgically and in terms of a commitment to social justice. In January I took a chance and attended the cathedral church of the local Episcopal diocese. Aside from a breathtakingly beautiful sanctuary, I found solid preaching, and a good mix of different people who made up the congregation. So, the next week I went back, with my wife and son joining me. Ever since, we have attend the cathedral, usually on Saturday evening for the Eucharistic service, since I have Sunday morning duties on campus. Occasionally, we are able to make it on a Sunday, and find our worship enriched by beautiful music, liturgies that bring the historic traditions of the church alive, and preaching that continues to challenge not just spiritually, but intellectually as well. Often, when pastors, especially those who work in higher education as I have done for almost twenty-five years, get to this stage of their careers and life, they become a bit more agnostic about the traditions and theologies of the church. I was certainly among them in the recent past. But this year, Holy Week holds great attraction for me, as a leader, and as a Christian. By recovering some of the wonderful liturgical traditions of my Methodist-Anglican heritage, I have reawakened to the message and challenge that is the mystery of our faith. My wish for you during this holiest of seasons is that the mystery of the passion, death and resurrection of our Lord may capture your spirit in a way that is new, familiar and utterly transformative. May you never be the same!

The Problem With Men...Sometimes. John 4:5 - 42

Ever notice how women in the Bible are sometimes ascribed characteristics that are no where attributed to them in the text? Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, because that is how she is portrayed in "Jesus Christ Superstar" right? It must be for that reason, because there is no text that states that she is, or was a prostitute. In this Sunday's text, we have a meeting between a Samaritan woman and Jesus, at a well. She has become known as the "woman at the well", always announced with a change in tone of voice by many male pastors. She was an immoral woman, because Jesus sees through her and reminds her that she has had five husbands, and the man with whom she is currently residing is not her husband. Case closed..slut! Really? Does Jesus call her that? Does the text refer to her as that? The text gives us the facts. David Lose, who teaches at Luther Seminary, makes the point that, when Jesus talks about her five husbands and the current co-habitor, he does not pass judgment. Lose can take one's breath away when he states that the woman could have been abandoned by some of those husbands, as it was a common practice. The man with whom she currently resided could have been there to provide for her welfare, a household of convenience. The reason I find Lose's take on this passage so remarkable is that, after Jesus tells the woman all of these things about her personal life, he has not alienated her. Instead, she states "I see you are a prophet." Lose tells us that sometimes the word "see" is an indication of faith. So, maybe the woman at the well recognized Jesus as a prophet, one who dared to speak to a woman, a Samaritan woman, no less. In the preceding chapter, Nicodemus did not understand who Jesus was, and yet the woman at the well "got" who Jesus was, almost right away. Why? Is it a story about power and who really has access to it? Those who live on the margins are more likely to recognize the prophets among us, because they have fewer things competing for their attention.  The woman runs home, forgetting her water jug, and tells her friends and neighbors about the remarkable prophet she has just met.  In John's gospel, she is the first evangelist for Jesus.
So why have we not heard such an interpretation very often? Could it be because, historically, men in the church have not been great about giving women credit for their role in the establishment of the early church? Lose thanks a female friend for a discussion that engendered his thinking and commentary on the text. Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, guys just don't get it.

How Much Do We Believe in God? Matthew 6:24 - 34

There is a huge sycamore tree in our front yard that has a hole high up in the trunk where two large branches converge. We have a great view of that tree from our living room window. Often I have sat there, transfixed and amused by the carryings on of the many squirrels who live in our yard. That hole in the trunk is a popular destination, and, on any given day, squirrels can be seen carrying dried leaves and twigs into it, making a nest that must be comfy and warm. I have even seen birds and squirrels vie for the spot: when one leaves to get more fluff for the nest, the other quickly reclaims the hole. Possession seems to last until the latest resident has to leave and the other comes back. I once observed a squirrel carrying a load of leaves in its mouth that was too wide to get through the entrance to the nest. After several unsuccessful attempts to enter, the squirrel went back down the tree, returning a moment later with a more manageable load and was able to successfully navigate the entrance. The squirrels seem patient and even cheerful as they do their work, day after day. I have often wondered if they have bad days and moody times. They just seem to carry on, regardless of weather or circumstance. They really are quite miraculous creatures.
Jesus' remarks about the lilies of the field are among the most beautiful and imaginative in all of the gospels, in this writer's opinion. There is a majesty in the text that paints the most vivid pictures to underscore the meaning of the words. In our twenty-first century lifestyles of comfort and abundance, it may be difficult to capture the original intent of the words that Jesus spoke in their context. Most of the people in Jesus' time and place were desperately poor, and survival was very much a day to day operation. Many people tried to scratch out a living by working in the soil, or by fishing. The lilies of the field image was directed to the farmers in his midst. He reminds them that, though their lives are tied to the soil and to the creatures who also get their food from it, they are not called to become actual lilies or birds. The ultimate meaning of their lives is not defined by the soil in which they work, but is rooted in God's providential care for all creatures. The birds of the air, the flowers in the meadow, the men and women who struggle to subsist on the barest of essentials: all of these are under the providential care of God. The text reminds its readers that, though the needs of men and women are greater than those of plants and animals, God's love and sustaining care are adequate for the survival of all.
If our lives are to have true meaning, then they must serve something outside of ourselves. If a man or woman farms, and cares only about the actual work of farming, for example, he or she makes an idol of work. In addition, such a person may also begin to covet those things which he or she does not have because the financial resources are so limited. The rich may idolize the possessions which they have accumulated, and the poor may come to idolize those things which they do not possess. In either case, there is an insecurity born of a lack of trust. Do we really trust God for our immediate, as well as our ultimate survival? Can we find the confidence to state honestly that we believe that God does care for us? The answer to that question may sound very different coming from someone who has a good job and adequate shelter over against someone who is wandering the streets. But Jesus' message is clear: those who would call themselves his followers must possess the inner peace and fortitude to believe that their lives cannot fall out of the realm of God's loving care. We can have lengthy discussions about how that care is best demonstrated, and about what happens to our perceptions of that care when tragedy strikes, jobs are lost and dreams are shattered. But before we can move on to discuss those larger issues, we must be able to discern for ourselves if we really believe what Jesus says in this passage. To what extent do we really believe that God cares for us?

Don't Just Resist, Stand Against (With thanks to Walter Wink) Matthew 5:38 - 48

One of the most oft used phrases in the English language has to be "turn the other cheek." We use it to denote times when we did not return anger for anger. More often than not, however, it takes on the connotation of someone who acts as a "doormat" and allows other to walk all over him or her. "Turn the other cheek" has come to mean a willingness to take abuse. Nothing could be further from the meaning Jesus intended when he used the phrase. Jesus does not tell his followers not to respond to evildoers, he tells them to resist without resorting to violence. One need not look deeply into scripture to read of allusions to non-violent resistance: Rejoice when you are persecuted, pray for deliverance from evil, love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you.
When Jesus admonished his followers to turn the other cheek, he was not telling them to acquiesce, but to stand against the persecutor. A superior would use the right hand to slap an underling, because the left hand was used only for unclean functions. In order to show superiority, the superior would use the back of the hand to strike the underling. If the underling then turns the other cheek and invites another slap, the superior is placed in the precarious position of having to use the palm of the hand to strike the underling or to not even try. To strike with the palm is to covey some sense of social equality. Even though the superior may choose to flog the underling mercilessly for the impudence shown, the action illustrates what is what is known as "standing against" and it has been used effectively recently in Egypt and other Middle Eastern countries where people's movements have sprung up. Sadly, the people have not always protested non-violently, nor have the governments responded non-violently. Thus, a cycle of violence has sometimes emerged, which is exactly what Jesus was speaking against.
Some have mistakenly called what Jesus taught a form of "passive resistance." Truth be told, there is nothing passive about it. In his day, a person who was owed a debt could take everything from the debtor, including his outer cloak. However, the cloak had to be returned at night, as many people had only their cloaks to keep them warm while sleeping. Jesus admonished his followers to give the upper cloak as well, which meant the debtor would stand stark naked before the lender. In keeping with the cultural mores of the day, the nakedness of the debtor brings shame to the person who observes his nakedness, not to the debtor. Conquering armies could require prisoners to carry their backpack for one-thousand paces. Rules of war being what they were, impelling someone to carry the pack any further than that could subject the soldier to disciplinary actions. So, carrying the pack more than the one-thousand paces could make a soldier very nervous, and the underling thus gained an advantage.
So, you see, there was noting wimpy about what Jesus suggested that his followers do when they were being persecuted. Standing against an oppressor puts that person or authority off-balance. It does not mean that retribution for the embarrassment will not be forthcoming for the underling, but it does mean that the one in power must act in the full light of the exposure which has been brought about by the underling standing against the powerful. It says "I am a human being just like you. I am a child of God. You can't put me down, even if you kill me." Martin Luther King, Jr. understood this concept, which is the reason his demonstrations and acts of civil disobedience changed a society. We need to reclaim Jesus' mandate never to return hate for hate and violence for violence. Instead we must claim the power inherent in recognizing all people as children of God. When an injustice is committed against one, it is commuted against all.

Justice Denied? Micah 6: 1 - 8

Nearly one year ago, on a bright and sunny April afternoon, our home was robbed. My wife and I walked through the house, afraid of each discovery of something missing that we had not noticed before. The sight of the broken kitchen door, the confused look on the face of our cat who had just become a resident of our home the week before, the empty spaces where computers and radios had been just that morning, the vacant dresser-top where the wedding bands for our daughter's upcoming wedding had rested - it was almost too much to take in. Several weeks later the culprits were caught while robbing another home in the area. None of our possessions were recovered, but we had the chance to come face to face with our adversaries recently. Over a year after their crime spree began, the two men responsible for the string of robberies appeared in court for a preliminary hearing to determine if they should be bound over for trial. They were made to sit and listen as each of us who had been robbed gave testimony as to how we discovered the robberies and recounted what had been taken. I discovered that some individuals lost much more than we did, some of them also experiencing the death of spouses immediately before, or after, the burglaries. The defense attorneys each asked me if I had ever seen his client before. I looked each middle-aged man in the eyes, and one of them began to smile at me, and then, thinking better, perhaps, he dropped his gaze. No, I had never seen either one of them before that day in court. After the hearing, the men were bound over for jury trial, unless they plead out first.
While reflecting on this difficult year, my eyes came across the very familiar and beloved passage from the prophet Micah. "What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God?" If one reads the verses that come before this final passage, one understands that Micah was not offering a harmless platitude here. His meaning is clear: God wants justice, not worship. God wants justice, not oppression. God wants us to love seriously, which is fair to the meaning of hesed, the elusive word in the Hebrew Scriptures that may be translated as steadfast love. If one loves seriously, justice will be served. Justice will be real when it is achieved for those for whom justice has always been denied. Looking into the eyes of our burglars, I could not help but try to imagine each as a young child, when he was innocent and looked at each day with wonder. What happened to change them? Was this crime spree a way of life, a lark, an act of desperation? Will the sentence meted out result in justice? I have no doubt that, for those of us who were robbed, there will be some sense of satisfaction and closure. But, for me, it will be a troubled peace, to be sure. Our penal system will not rehabilitate these men, but make them harder and more determined to be more careful next time. Our system of justice in this country is predicated on punishment, not reform. We will not "do justice" to them, for to do so would mean to forgive each man and work with him so that he will have a better and more productive and honest life in the future. Instead, as individuals, we will trust the system to deal with each man. We will worship, we will try to love others, and we will move on. And justice, I am afraid, will not be served. At least, not in the way Micah had envisioned.