Okay, I will start with the most volatile and explosvie topic first. I have no control over you, dear reader, but I would appreciate you actually reading what I say before you respond. Peace on us all from Jesus.
When asked, "Do you believe homosexuals should be allowed to marry?," my response has always been, "yes, I thought they were not interested in marriage." What does that mean?
Marriage is a covenant between a man and a woman before God. By definition, homosexuals are not interested in this sort of covenant with someone of the opposite sex. Therefore, they are not interested in marriage. I do not say this out of judgment or hate. It is a definition of terms. The word marriage has a meaning content. Man and woman together are the content.
What then of blessing same sex unions? My response is I am not authorized (by God) to do such a thing. What is the basis for saying this? The Scriptures are pretty clear. Some argue that the Scriptures are not clear at all (Church teaching is not all confused in this reading of scripture). Some argue the Scriptures are outdated or in error (which leaves authoritybeing the contemporary world view which is clearly not inerrant, and up to date changes every six months?). Some say that God is love and so could never be disappointed when people are in love (which raises all sorts of problems: start with the concept of fornication, move to adultery, then consider incest).
In many churches today, the discussions about this question has led to the formulation of new liturgies. It is a done deal. People advocating them sometimes sound very humble, but in the end they are implementing the services. Right now we are told that they are optional. The church powers will put up with those of us not willing to go along. They say our church in "a big tent" and we can "include" different opinions. At some point, the plan is to force it. So it is tempting to get angry and fight. It is tempting to name call and project any number of negative thoughts on those with whom I disagree. I have succombed to the temptation on many occassions. It is hard to be nice and respectful in emotionally charged fights. It is difficult to go into combat yet love your neighbor as yourself.
On the other hand, I have had a history which makes this theological issue a challenge for me personally. In my high school work I have counseled with young people who thought they were homosexual. I have seen several who have self-identified as such. These are people who are precious to me. In addition, some high school friends have reappeared in my life (Facebook). Some of them are also self identified in this way. This is a personal issue. My nature is to "live and let live" so I wonder, can't we just let this one slide? There was a time when I intervened to stop a "gay bashing" incidents at school. I did it because it is wrong to harm someone because they are different. I have intervened with a parent to love his gay son, because it is his son. There are other memories which I shall not share, but they are all real events and real people.
At our diocese's recent convention a lesbian shared her journey with us. I was impressed by her courage. I think it was really hard for her. I sent her a message to express that to her. My reputation in the GLBT community of our church is probably not positive. I think people were shocked that I could be so "gracious." Yet, part of the reason I could see her unease was because I felt my own. I am terribly uncomfortable with the direction our local church is going. I know that in the days ahead it will get worse. I know that failing to support "gay marriage" is equated with the Taliban in the minds of many Progressives. Being kind to this woman does not change any of that.
So where to draw the line? Do I simply say she is going to hell, when I cannot simply believe that? On the other hand, do I deserve to be under threat because I would not be willing to bless her relationship? Is having compassion for another human being what Jesus called us to? Can I share the truth with others and yet be in relationship with them when we disagree? Enough for today. I think these are hard questions. Tomorrow I want to wrap up this issue and move on.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Drawing the Line 2
Today's reflections are probably more foundational than anything. They are more descriptive than prescriptive. I think it is worth sharing though, because many of our troubles in the church have to do with category errors. What I mean by that is there are people who think that truth is a function of democratic processes. If enough people agree with me, I can mistakenly think that I am right. Voting rights are good but elections are always flawed.
Some folks do not go to church because they do not like church conflict. I do not like them either, but we live in a world full of conflict and disagreement. The idea that churches should be exempt from human struggles is naive, though understandable. Having said that, I would add that many church conflicts are also non-productive. There are times when we create major battles over minor issues. So, where to you draw the line? How do you know when it is time to let go and back off? How can you be sure when it is time to engage enthusiastically and really stand for what you believe?
For me, I try to keep straight the three areas in church life. First, there is theology. This has to do with the doctrine, or teaching, of the church. I think that this area is foundational. Second, there is pastoral care, which is the realm of ministry and taking care of real people in real situations. Lastly, there is politics. This is the least attractive realm because it is the place where power is seen (and abused) in its most naked form. Politics is often the realm of bitter fights because it has the most practical impact (most of the time).
Theology is subtle. You rarely find theological positions which have no truth. Theology is often times a reflection on the unprovable. I do not argue with anyone about theories of inspiration. In the end, I listen to what they think, ponder it, and take what makes sense to me. I am not saying inspiration is not important. It is VERY important. Yet the best of friends can debate theology 24/7 and remain friends because each knows they may be wrong.
Pastoral care is tricky. Ideals are part of the picture, but many times we are not in ideal situations. How did Jesus deal with sinners? What is a pastor to do when leading a church where fully 100% of the members are sinners? Which sinners are welcome and which are cast out? One answer, 'the repentant' are welcome raises a corollary. Who is truly repentant and who isn't? How repentant do you have to be? 100%, 70%, 51% And how does one measure the degree of repentance? If you have ever vowed not to do something and done again (and again), then, like me, you know that repentance may be an ongoing struggle.
One pastoral solution is to see the difference between the private and public forum. There are things people may do in private which are scandalous in public. For the most part, I think, churches do best when they focus on public scandal. Otherwise, you have to create some sort of "police" who investigate everyone to see what their secrets are. Having said that, it is probably an error to call public sins an act of integrity. It may be hypocritical, but I still think it is better for someone to teach children correct morality and secretly break the rules. This is not the optimum, but we are talking about failure here.
The worst part of church is politics. In the Episcopal church we do the politics in a big way: conventions. For years different groups have found ways to "get things done" which may or may not reflect the desires of the people (or the Lord). Most people are not engaged in those processes. The people who are, run the show. Line drawing is impacted by this as well. What do you do when you see the majority taking a stand for something which you are very sure is wrong? Do you stand and fight or do you back away? Having fought and lost, is the only option to move on? If you do move, with whom do you align? If you stay, how do you do so faithfully?
I am close to sharing some very personal struggles here, which I will do in the days ahead. I share them in the hope that it is of value to others who find themselves struggling on the Journey of Faith.
Some folks do not go to church because they do not like church conflict. I do not like them either, but we live in a world full of conflict and disagreement. The idea that churches should be exempt from human struggles is naive, though understandable. Having said that, I would add that many church conflicts are also non-productive. There are times when we create major battles over minor issues. So, where to you draw the line? How do you know when it is time to let go and back off? How can you be sure when it is time to engage enthusiastically and really stand for what you believe?
For me, I try to keep straight the three areas in church life. First, there is theology. This has to do with the doctrine, or teaching, of the church. I think that this area is foundational. Second, there is pastoral care, which is the realm of ministry and taking care of real people in real situations. Lastly, there is politics. This is the least attractive realm because it is the place where power is seen (and abused) in its most naked form. Politics is often the realm of bitter fights because it has the most practical impact (most of the time).
Theology is subtle. You rarely find theological positions which have no truth. Theology is often times a reflection on the unprovable. I do not argue with anyone about theories of inspiration. In the end, I listen to what they think, ponder it, and take what makes sense to me. I am not saying inspiration is not important. It is VERY important. Yet the best of friends can debate theology 24/7 and remain friends because each knows they may be wrong.
Pastoral care is tricky. Ideals are part of the picture, but many times we are not in ideal situations. How did Jesus deal with sinners? What is a pastor to do when leading a church where fully 100% of the members are sinners? Which sinners are welcome and which are cast out? One answer, 'the repentant' are welcome raises a corollary. Who is truly repentant and who isn't? How repentant do you have to be? 100%, 70%, 51% And how does one measure the degree of repentance? If you have ever vowed not to do something and done again (and again), then, like me, you know that repentance may be an ongoing struggle.
One pastoral solution is to see the difference between the private and public forum. There are things people may do in private which are scandalous in public. For the most part, I think, churches do best when they focus on public scandal. Otherwise, you have to create some sort of "police" who investigate everyone to see what their secrets are. Having said that, it is probably an error to call public sins an act of integrity. It may be hypocritical, but I still think it is better for someone to teach children correct morality and secretly break the rules. This is not the optimum, but we are talking about failure here.
The worst part of church is politics. In the Episcopal church we do the politics in a big way: conventions. For years different groups have found ways to "get things done" which may or may not reflect the desires of the people (or the Lord). Most people are not engaged in those processes. The people who are, run the show. Line drawing is impacted by this as well. What do you do when you see the majority taking a stand for something which you are very sure is wrong? Do you stand and fight or do you back away? Having fought and lost, is the only option to move on? If you do move, with whom do you align? If you stay, how do you do so faithfully?
I am close to sharing some very personal struggles here, which I will do in the days ahead. I share them in the hope that it is of value to others who find themselves struggling on the Journey of Faith.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Tsunami and Ash Wednesday: Context for discussion
I intend to continue reflecting on "where to draw the line" in the days ahead. It is tricky business and my mind is literally racing in a wide variety of directions. The issues with which we wrestle in the church are literally about life and death. Wars have been fought and many died in the past over religious differences. Today churches are torn apart, families divided and friendships ended over the debates. I am reminded of Jesus' words (paraphrased) "I have come to bring division, not peace" I pray any division generated here comes from Jesus and not me. I pray for salvation, reconciliation and healing in His cross.
All these discussions about our debates need to be in a context. Last week I talked with a priest-friend in Nashville. He reminded me of something I said years ago (as we stood together for the faith). "Some day awful things will happen which will make us forget about our church debates, and miss them as 'the good old days' in comparison." I do believe that still.
Yesterday, like many of you, I saw the video of the Tsunami and earthquake in Japan. The overhead video of the water, choked with floating cars and debris (much of it pieces of shattered houses) was too much to take in. Miles of cities and towns were just washed away. Gone. Today the survivors are living in the horror of the aftermath. The physical and psychological scars will never be healed for many of them. I pictured myself living there. Somehow debates on eucharist or marriage would feel insignificant in the face of such devastating loss and suffering. That is why feelings are not enough.
On Ash Wednesday we spoke of death. We told each person, one at a time, you will die. I shared that I choked up several times as I did this sacred act with word and sign. Memories of the personal losses my parishioners had suffered were stirred up and whispered "death" in my soul. The next day, this global loss screamed in our ears, "DEATH!" It is Ash Wednesday writ large: Death.
One of the debate points of the other side (from mine) is that in the face of all the suffering in the world, shouldn't we focus our church's energies and attention on serving those who are broken by "Death" in its many forms? Can we imagine the Japanese victims of the Tsunami or grieving widows and orphans really want to debate the fine points of theology? The answer, of course, is no. People who watched their entire village swept clean of everything familiar, people sleeping in tents, hungry and cold and heart broken would probably not want to discuss the issues which tear our church apart. But I don't see the advocates of the "new theology" dropping their push to innovate. Seems to me that the "aren't there more important things" argument is a smoke screen. It is an effort to make us stand down so that they can replace the faith of the saints with half truths and falsehoods. I for one am not falling for it. Hiding behind human suffering and tragedy to do such things is wrong.
I do not live in Japan. I live in Collierville. In a little while my family will leave here for a baseball tournament. Across the world most of us will live our lives. Japan is far away. We have experienced sadnes and said our prayers. We have made our contributions and we are living our lives. Two things about that. First, I was struck by the number of home videos of the earthquake shown on the news. If it wasn't so sad it would be comical that in the midst of buildings shaking apart and collapsing roofs, so many Japanses people decided make videos rather than seek cover. Amazing. So people are still people, even in the midst of all the horrors. And second, I am just like them. In the face of trauma, I still am me. I mourn losses, weep and move on. Today my parents will miss my son's games, again. They never watched him play. Mom never even saw him, she died years before he was born. Dad died when Luke was a toddler. I can still recall Luke tapping my dad's dead body saying, "bampa, bampa." That was years ago. The pain, though real, is abated.
The world I live in right now has plenty of room to discuss and debate theological issues. These issues, I said to begin with, are life and death issues. Not just wars. Not just relationships. Life and death issues of eternity. Life and death issues in the Kingdom of God. Should we discuss and debate them? Yes. That is one line I have drawn on my journey of faith.
All these discussions about our debates need to be in a context. Last week I talked with a priest-friend in Nashville. He reminded me of something I said years ago (as we stood together for the faith). "Some day awful things will happen which will make us forget about our church debates, and miss them as 'the good old days' in comparison." I do believe that still.
Yesterday, like many of you, I saw the video of the Tsunami and earthquake in Japan. The overhead video of the water, choked with floating cars and debris (much of it pieces of shattered houses) was too much to take in. Miles of cities and towns were just washed away. Gone. Today the survivors are living in the horror of the aftermath. The physical and psychological scars will never be healed for many of them. I pictured myself living there. Somehow debates on eucharist or marriage would feel insignificant in the face of such devastating loss and suffering. That is why feelings are not enough.
On Ash Wednesday we spoke of death. We told each person, one at a time, you will die. I shared that I choked up several times as I did this sacred act with word and sign. Memories of the personal losses my parishioners had suffered were stirred up and whispered "death" in my soul. The next day, this global loss screamed in our ears, "DEATH!" It is Ash Wednesday writ large: Death.
One of the debate points of the other side (from mine) is that in the face of all the suffering in the world, shouldn't we focus our church's energies and attention on serving those who are broken by "Death" in its many forms? Can we imagine the Japanese victims of the Tsunami or grieving widows and orphans really want to debate the fine points of theology? The answer, of course, is no. People who watched their entire village swept clean of everything familiar, people sleeping in tents, hungry and cold and heart broken would probably not want to discuss the issues which tear our church apart. But I don't see the advocates of the "new theology" dropping their push to innovate. Seems to me that the "aren't there more important things" argument is a smoke screen. It is an effort to make us stand down so that they can replace the faith of the saints with half truths and falsehoods. I for one am not falling for it. Hiding behind human suffering and tragedy to do such things is wrong.
I do not live in Japan. I live in Collierville. In a little while my family will leave here for a baseball tournament. Across the world most of us will live our lives. Japan is far away. We have experienced sadnes and said our prayers. We have made our contributions and we are living our lives. Two things about that. First, I was struck by the number of home videos of the earthquake shown on the news. If it wasn't so sad it would be comical that in the midst of buildings shaking apart and collapsing roofs, so many Japanses people decided make videos rather than seek cover. Amazing. So people are still people, even in the midst of all the horrors. And second, I am just like them. In the face of trauma, I still am me. I mourn losses, weep and move on. Today my parents will miss my son's games, again. They never watched him play. Mom never even saw him, she died years before he was born. Dad died when Luke was a toddler. I can still recall Luke tapping my dad's dead body saying, "bampa, bampa." That was years ago. The pain, though real, is abated.
The world I live in right now has plenty of room to discuss and debate theological issues. These issues, I said to begin with, are life and death issues. Not just wars. Not just relationships. Life and death issues of eternity. Life and death issues in the Kingdom of God. Should we discuss and debate them? Yes. That is one line I have drawn on my journey of faith.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Drawing the Line 1
We are studying First Maccabees in my Thursday Bible study. Now some people reading this are saying, "BUT THAT IS NOT SCRIPTURE!!!!"
Exactly.
It is scripture for Roman Catholics. It isn't for Protestants. As for me (an Episcopal priest with a very catholic theology) and my household, well, that is the question.
I have been leading a bible study on OT ever since I did the Apocalypse a few years back. As we studied that mysterious document, also called the Book of Revelation, I was stunned by the amount of OT quotation, imagery and allusion. I told my class that I viewed the Apocalypse as similar to one of those letters where the person cuts out words from a magazine and pastes them on paper to string together his sentences. This constant use of the OT made me realize how much I did not know about the OT, so we have studied it ever since.
I justify reading Maccabees because of its historical importance for understanding Jesus' times. (Imagine studying American history with a gap between the Civil War and WW I.) Yet, even so, there remains a question in the back of my mind....
After class a woman (Presbyterian) talked with me about some issues. She is a very well read and thoughtful person. Like me, she is very distressed with the new movements in the church (termed "modernist," "liberal," "progressive," or "re-appraisser"). Like me, she has also seen things on the other side which appear too extreme. We talked about the question, "where do you draw the line?"
I do not know if God inspired Maccabees. I do know there are any number of people who are frothing at the mouth and ready to denounce me for reading it and for claiming/not claiming it is scripture. Then there are so many more who would call it all superstitious garbage. Finally, there is that wonderful group who ask, "Does it matter?"
Well, if God revealed this text, it matters. And if God did not reveal the text, that matters. And if the whole Christian enterprise is of God, that matters. If instead it is garbage, that matters. So this suddenly becomes a big question. How is one to read this (biblical?) text which shares so much in common with similar books found in the OT (e.g. Joshua, Judges, Nehemiah)?
Exercising some degree of openness and humility, I personally read it as part of the Catholic bible. It is, therefore, truly scripture for me. Reading it as a priest in the Episcopal church, I can make no claims that it is Scripture, it is part of the apocrypha in our biblical canon. I think I have made a compromise on this. Which leads to the question I will ponder in days ahead. When is a compromise an act of humble love? When is a compromise a dirty sell out of all that is true and holy?
I have long been torn apart inside by competing desires. No, desire is too weak a word, by competing drives, almost compulsions. I like people and I love community. In my high school I was voted "most school spirited" and "most wittiest." I had to choose one for the year book so I went with funny, but I was proud my peers thought I was both. I like my organization to do well, so I work to support it. I love to bring people together and make them laugh. I still try that, even in homilies on Sunday. So, on the one hand, I have an overpowering desire to gather in fellowship with others in a way that is warm, connected and fun.
On the other hand, I want to have integrity. I am, by nature, a person who wants to avoid conflict. I am also, by nature, a person who wants to do the right thing. I sometimes wonder about my faith and I often question what I believe, but I usually try to live authentically the faith and beliefs of the Christian church. So when I confront someone teaching "a different gospel" (which is no gospel at all) I get stirred up. When someone teaches heresy, I speak out against it. When someone denies a core truth of the Christian faith, I point it out, sometimes too emphatically. Or so I am told. But I wonder..... Should Jeremiah have turned it down a notch? Should Paul have kept his mouth shut? Did Jesus blow it by being too inflexible and speaking out so boldly? (NO!!!!)
Yet in the midst of these battles within and without the church, I ponder this: What does it mean that my closest allies deny books of the Scripture, reject some of the sacraments and disagree with me on any number of issues which are also important if Truth matters. Where, I wonder, does one draw the line?
Exactly.
It is scripture for Roman Catholics. It isn't for Protestants. As for me (an Episcopal priest with a very catholic theology) and my household, well, that is the question.
I have been leading a bible study on OT ever since I did the Apocalypse a few years back. As we studied that mysterious document, also called the Book of Revelation, I was stunned by the amount of OT quotation, imagery and allusion. I told my class that I viewed the Apocalypse as similar to one of those letters where the person cuts out words from a magazine and pastes them on paper to string together his sentences. This constant use of the OT made me realize how much I did not know about the OT, so we have studied it ever since.
I justify reading Maccabees because of its historical importance for understanding Jesus' times. (Imagine studying American history with a gap between the Civil War and WW I.) Yet, even so, there remains a question in the back of my mind....
After class a woman (Presbyterian) talked with me about some issues. She is a very well read and thoughtful person. Like me, she is very distressed with the new movements in the church (termed "modernist," "liberal," "progressive," or "re-appraisser"). Like me, she has also seen things on the other side which appear too extreme. We talked about the question, "where do you draw the line?"
I do not know if God inspired Maccabees. I do know there are any number of people who are frothing at the mouth and ready to denounce me for reading it and for claiming/not claiming it is scripture. Then there are so many more who would call it all superstitious garbage. Finally, there is that wonderful group who ask, "Does it matter?"
Well, if God revealed this text, it matters. And if God did not reveal the text, that matters. And if the whole Christian enterprise is of God, that matters. If instead it is garbage, that matters. So this suddenly becomes a big question. How is one to read this (biblical?) text which shares so much in common with similar books found in the OT (e.g. Joshua, Judges, Nehemiah)?
Exercising some degree of openness and humility, I personally read it as part of the Catholic bible. It is, therefore, truly scripture for me. Reading it as a priest in the Episcopal church, I can make no claims that it is Scripture, it is part of the apocrypha in our biblical canon. I think I have made a compromise on this. Which leads to the question I will ponder in days ahead. When is a compromise an act of humble love? When is a compromise a dirty sell out of all that is true and holy?
I have long been torn apart inside by competing desires. No, desire is too weak a word, by competing drives, almost compulsions. I like people and I love community. In my high school I was voted "most school spirited" and "most wittiest." I had to choose one for the year book so I went with funny, but I was proud my peers thought I was both. I like my organization to do well, so I work to support it. I love to bring people together and make them laugh. I still try that, even in homilies on Sunday. So, on the one hand, I have an overpowering desire to gather in fellowship with others in a way that is warm, connected and fun.
On the other hand, I want to have integrity. I am, by nature, a person who wants to avoid conflict. I am also, by nature, a person who wants to do the right thing. I sometimes wonder about my faith and I often question what I believe, but I usually try to live authentically the faith and beliefs of the Christian church. So when I confront someone teaching "a different gospel" (which is no gospel at all) I get stirred up. When someone teaches heresy, I speak out against it. When someone denies a core truth of the Christian faith, I point it out, sometimes too emphatically. Or so I am told. But I wonder..... Should Jeremiah have turned it down a notch? Should Paul have kept his mouth shut? Did Jesus blow it by being too inflexible and speaking out so boldly? (NO!!!!)
Yet in the midst of these battles within and without the church, I ponder this: What does it mean that my closest allies deny books of the Scripture, reject some of the sacraments and disagree with me on any number of issues which are also important if Truth matters. Where, I wonder, does one draw the line?
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Big Boys Don't Cry
A coule of days ago I heard reports that the Miami Heat basketball team lost another game. I am not a big NBA fan, but I was well aware of the James-Wade-Bosh decision to form a super team last summer. I thought that Cleveland deserved better treatment, but also understand why players would make the decision which they did. Lately, the super team has fallen on hard times and the coach reported after another tough loss that "there were guys crying in the locker room." This was fodder on numerous sports talk shows the next day and I ran across the story several times. Some of the talk conveyed the assumption that crying was not manly.
Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. The major theme of the day is repentance. It is also the beginning of Lent, a season of preparation for Holy Week, culminating in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. There is a close connection between this day and the cross of Jesus for me. I tend to jump from A to Z in my thought processes, so last night on the altar I was transported to April anticipating the emotional service from Good Friday. As I did, I felt a surge of deep emotion. My eyes teared up. Again. You see, I am one of those men who do cry...
Ash Wednesday is a long day. I got to church at 5:40 am, so the 7:00pm eucharist is at the end of a long day. During the day we got word that the priest with whom I had worked for my first eight years at St. Andrews had fallen and suffered head trauma. Fr. John is 84 and has grieved the loss of his wife for many years. A couple of minor strokes and the ravages of age have forced him to give up the church work and driving. He makes it clear that he is ready to join his wife. He is asking God to take him home. So even though he wants to die, I found myself choking up when I talked with his family. I was pretty emotional and know I would cry if I talked about it. It is embarassing to cry in public. I know. I have done it so very many times.
In reading Genesis, I was struck by how often Joseph cries. I think it is like four or five times. In bible study class we read that Elisha the prophet wept when he spoke with a general of Aram because he knew what horrors that man would visit on Israel. I also know that Jesus wept over Jerusalem and wept before the tomb of Lazarus.
What is cryng? Why do we have water come out of our eyes and make strange noises when we are sad? How is it that some people find themselves choking up constantly (me) while others seem able to walk through life composed?
When I preach about the love or mercy of God I choke up. When I speak about Jesus and His call to saving relationship with us I choke up. But sitting here writing this I am not emotionally moved. It is odd to me. I wonder what is going on. I have heard that "the gift of tears" is a movement of the Holy Spirit in our lives. I hope that is true. I know tears are also a natural phenomena, witness the basketball reference above. I know big boys do cry, I have seen many athletes, soldiers and other manly men weep. I also know that it is something with which most men are uncomfortable. That said, I am pretty sure that I will continue to choke up when I preach. I will cry when Fr. John, my friend, dies. I will cry at his funeral even though he wants to pass to the next stage. And I will marvel at this mystery of emotion and wrestle with it and try to figure out what our Father God is doing with all this crying. I just hope that the church continues to be a place where people can cry without shame when they have to. We cry for a reason and sometimes I think we need to. I think God designed us that way.
Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. The major theme of the day is repentance. It is also the beginning of Lent, a season of preparation for Holy Week, culminating in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. There is a close connection between this day and the cross of Jesus for me. I tend to jump from A to Z in my thought processes, so last night on the altar I was transported to April anticipating the emotional service from Good Friday. As I did, I felt a surge of deep emotion. My eyes teared up. Again. You see, I am one of those men who do cry...
Ash Wednesday is a long day. I got to church at 5:40 am, so the 7:00pm eucharist is at the end of a long day. During the day we got word that the priest with whom I had worked for my first eight years at St. Andrews had fallen and suffered head trauma. Fr. John is 84 and has grieved the loss of his wife for many years. A couple of minor strokes and the ravages of age have forced him to give up the church work and driving. He makes it clear that he is ready to join his wife. He is asking God to take him home. So even though he wants to die, I found myself choking up when I talked with his family. I was pretty emotional and know I would cry if I talked about it. It is embarassing to cry in public. I know. I have done it so very many times.
In reading Genesis, I was struck by how often Joseph cries. I think it is like four or five times. In bible study class we read that Elisha the prophet wept when he spoke with a general of Aram because he knew what horrors that man would visit on Israel. I also know that Jesus wept over Jerusalem and wept before the tomb of Lazarus.
What is cryng? Why do we have water come out of our eyes and make strange noises when we are sad? How is it that some people find themselves choking up constantly (me) while others seem able to walk through life composed?
When I preach about the love or mercy of God I choke up. When I speak about Jesus and His call to saving relationship with us I choke up. But sitting here writing this I am not emotionally moved. It is odd to me. I wonder what is going on. I have heard that "the gift of tears" is a movement of the Holy Spirit in our lives. I hope that is true. I know tears are also a natural phenomena, witness the basketball reference above. I know big boys do cry, I have seen many athletes, soldiers and other manly men weep. I also know that it is something with which most men are uncomfortable. That said, I am pretty sure that I will continue to choke up when I preach. I will cry when Fr. John, my friend, dies. I will cry at his funeral even though he wants to pass to the next stage. And I will marvel at this mystery of emotion and wrestle with it and try to figure out what our Father God is doing with all this crying. I just hope that the church continues to be a place where people can cry without shame when they have to. We cry for a reason and sometimes I think we need to. I think God designed us that way.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Ash Wednesday
"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
These words, which I will utter repeatedly today while tracing a small cross with ashes on the forehead of a person kneeling before me, are pretty simple and straight forward. They are a reminder of mortality. However, they are also more.
In Genesis, one of the accounts of creation pictures God digging in the earth. The clay ground (adamah) is formed into a man (adam) into which God breathes His Spirit (ruah = breath, spirit, wind). It is a reminder that we are dependent beings. We are creatures, i.e., created. Our existence is real, but it is derived and it is not the basis of reality. It is very easy to imagine a world wherein you or I do not exist. In fact, history tells us that we are not needed. We are not necessary. God, on the other hand, is needed and is necessary for creation. Everything relies on Him.
The great rebellion on the part of man (and woman) is the decision to lay claim on God's status for ourselves. It is the desire to make God answerable to us, to judge God by our standards. Sin is the embrace of the illogical assertion that I can make my own way in the world and I can choose what I think it best. Sin is, therefore, arrogance.
We all do it. When we critique the world God made or question His commandments. When we seek what we desire and call it good, regardless of what we are told to the contrary. We all share this common state, whether believer or atheist, whether nominal Christian or committed. We all forget who we are and what we are.
Today, briefly, we are reminded. In the end, we are not so very important. We are born, we live, we die, we disappear into dust. We are destined to be dust again. A reminder which we must take to heart.
So is that it? No. The reminder, that we are dust, is also a call, to wonder how dust can be animated and build skyscrapers, bake cakes, sing and dance and play ball. How can dust write novels, laugh at jokes and hold children? How can dust write blogs and create the internet? It is the breath, the breath of God, which animates us and makes us real. Real boys and girls. Real men and women. Dependent beings, yes, but dependent upon a God who is sustaining us each moment, even when we doubt His existence and criticize His every move.
So today we repent. We begin a season of repentance. A time to deny ourselves, to grow in faith and love. A time to discipline our desires and focus more intently on the Lord and His ways. Lent is a gift from God to His church, a church full of dust men and dust women. A church full of rebelious citizens of His kingdom. Yet, also a church full of His beloved children gifted to bless and be blessed. WE are dust, we shall return to dust, but we are also so much more. Our final destiny, after the grave, is GLORY!
These words, which I will utter repeatedly today while tracing a small cross with ashes on the forehead of a person kneeling before me, are pretty simple and straight forward. They are a reminder of mortality. However, they are also more.
In Genesis, one of the accounts of creation pictures God digging in the earth. The clay ground (adamah) is formed into a man (adam) into which God breathes His Spirit (ruah = breath, spirit, wind). It is a reminder that we are dependent beings. We are creatures, i.e., created. Our existence is real, but it is derived and it is not the basis of reality. It is very easy to imagine a world wherein you or I do not exist. In fact, history tells us that we are not needed. We are not necessary. God, on the other hand, is needed and is necessary for creation. Everything relies on Him.
The great rebellion on the part of man (and woman) is the decision to lay claim on God's status for ourselves. It is the desire to make God answerable to us, to judge God by our standards. Sin is the embrace of the illogical assertion that I can make my own way in the world and I can choose what I think it best. Sin is, therefore, arrogance.
We all do it. When we critique the world God made or question His commandments. When we seek what we desire and call it good, regardless of what we are told to the contrary. We all share this common state, whether believer or atheist, whether nominal Christian or committed. We all forget who we are and what we are.
Today, briefly, we are reminded. In the end, we are not so very important. We are born, we live, we die, we disappear into dust. We are destined to be dust again. A reminder which we must take to heart.
So is that it? No. The reminder, that we are dust, is also a call, to wonder how dust can be animated and build skyscrapers, bake cakes, sing and dance and play ball. How can dust write novels, laugh at jokes and hold children? How can dust write blogs and create the internet? It is the breath, the breath of God, which animates us and makes us real. Real boys and girls. Real men and women. Dependent beings, yes, but dependent upon a God who is sustaining us each moment, even when we doubt His existence and criticize His every move.
So today we repent. We begin a season of repentance. A time to deny ourselves, to grow in faith and love. A time to discipline our desires and focus more intently on the Lord and His ways. Lent is a gift from God to His church, a church full of dust men and dust women. A church full of rebelious citizens of His kingdom. Yet, also a church full of His beloved children gifted to bless and be blessed. WE are dust, we shall return to dust, but we are also so much more. Our final destiny, after the grave, is GLORY!
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Lord's Prayer
A couple of days ago, I shared that at our convention, a version of the Lord's Prayer was used with which I had some concerns. However, I also shared that the familiar version we use in our church has its own issues. Raymond Brown wrote an article on the prayer, which I am unable to find. I will share what I do know, you can research more if it interests you.
There are three versions of the Lord's prayer found in ancient literature: Mathew 6:9ff and a shorter version in Luke 11:2ff are the ones we know best. Although I think most Christians are unaware of Luke's version being different. A third one, found in the Didache, is unknown to most everyone. The Didache (or Teaching of the Twelves Apostles) is an ancient text which outlines "the way" of Christian life, including ethics and worship. Arguments about dates go from around the time of Paul all the way to 150. It is an interesting read.
One thing I noted years ago was all three versions had some slight modifications. Apparently, there was not an effort to create 'in stone" one authentic version. This may be because of Jesus, or it could be inadvertant, or maybe the church intentionally made edits. I do not know why, but I do know that the differences exist. Having said that, the differences are not such that the prayer is not recognizable as the same prayer. What this means, to me, is that the Lord's Prayer is both a prayer to be said and a model for prayers which we create. However, Brown has led me to understand it in a different way than I grew up believing.
Obviously, calling God "Father" is to share in Jesus' understanding of God. It is a privileged place. Many of the blogs I read from young, struggling Christians seem to be generated by the disconnect between life as we live it and the idea that God is a loving Father. I think that, if we take Jesus seriously, we see a man who struggles in a hostile world, yet believes in His Father. Jesus seems to see His mission as combat, a battle with people, institutions and demonic entities which produce great suffering. Jesus also seemed willing to submit to torture and death as the means of victory. MYSTERY!
Brown points out that the verbs in the Lord's prayer are in a Greek tense which indicates a "once and for all" action (aortist tense). In other words, it is not the tense of ongoing actions. It is definitve. He says that this prayer of Jesus is asking God to end the world as we know it and establish His Kingdom as He promised. I like that.
"Hallowed be thy name" is passive voice. I always thought it meant we should treat God's name as holy. In the Bible, passive voice implies Divine action. Remember, the Jewish awe of God's Holy Name led them to avoid using it. So, for example, in Matthew, the Kingdom of God is called the Kingdom of Heaven. Brown says that this is actually a request for God to make His own name holy, i.e., glorify your name. This is a short hand way of saying "establish your kingdom." The next two verses are quite overt: "Thy kingdom come" and "Thy will be done" mean just that. However, it means "NOW." This insight has changed my prayer. The tension I feel in my life, those experiences of sin, evil and 'the absence of God' are real. We do live in a 'not yet' time. Praying this prayer means asking God to estblish His kingdom.
"Give (once and for all) the bread ??" There is much discussion about what exactly the Greek word means which we transalte "daily." Brown makes a good case that it literally means the bread of tomorrow, i.e., the bread of the great Messianic feast. In other words, establish the kingdom and feed us at the great table! The number of parables which Jesus preached about tables seems to reinforce this idea.
We pray "forgive us our trespasses" in my church. Matthew and Didache have "debts" while Luke has "sins" and then "debts." I like debts better than trespasses, for the simple reason that my debts to God are not simply sins. I also have the debt of all I have received from God. Every blessing is a gift. To forgive a debt is to not demand it be paid back. Once more, this is a common theme of Jesus' parables. At the final judgment, it is our prayer that God will write off all our debts, everything we owe. This is forgiveness of sins, but it is so much more!
The Greek word for 'temptation' is the same word for 'test.' It can mean either. In the last days, Jesus says, it will be so severe that no one would survive without God's grace. I think Jesus is reminding us that as we pray for the Kingdom to come, we are also in need of protection in the time of great testing. Deliver us from "evil" can also be translated from "the evil one." I think there is a great battle and Jesus told Peter to pray because Satan intended to sift him. So it is true of us. Satan is real and he is dangerous.
So when I pray, by myself, I often times make a conscious decision to ask God to establish His kingdom and protect us. I beg Him to bring us to the table of the wedding feast. I use different terms and images, but all are focused on God, the King, coming to the world, once and for all, and setting things right. Because of the struggles I see around me, it is easy to make such a prayer. God is not (fully) reigning right now. This is why it is hard for us to believe. Yet, He is coming. Perhaps when enough of us pray for the kingdom to come He will come? I do not know. I do know Jesus told us to pray for it. So I do.
There are three versions of the Lord's prayer found in ancient literature: Mathew 6:9ff and a shorter version in Luke 11:2ff are the ones we know best. Although I think most Christians are unaware of Luke's version being different. A third one, found in the Didache, is unknown to most everyone. The Didache (or Teaching of the Twelves Apostles) is an ancient text which outlines "the way" of Christian life, including ethics and worship. Arguments about dates go from around the time of Paul all the way to 150. It is an interesting read.
One thing I noted years ago was all three versions had some slight modifications. Apparently, there was not an effort to create 'in stone" one authentic version. This may be because of Jesus, or it could be inadvertant, or maybe the church intentionally made edits. I do not know why, but I do know that the differences exist. Having said that, the differences are not such that the prayer is not recognizable as the same prayer. What this means, to me, is that the Lord's Prayer is both a prayer to be said and a model for prayers which we create. However, Brown has led me to understand it in a different way than I grew up believing.
Obviously, calling God "Father" is to share in Jesus' understanding of God. It is a privileged place. Many of the blogs I read from young, struggling Christians seem to be generated by the disconnect between life as we live it and the idea that God is a loving Father. I think that, if we take Jesus seriously, we see a man who struggles in a hostile world, yet believes in His Father. Jesus seems to see His mission as combat, a battle with people, institutions and demonic entities which produce great suffering. Jesus also seemed willing to submit to torture and death as the means of victory. MYSTERY!
Brown points out that the verbs in the Lord's prayer are in a Greek tense which indicates a "once and for all" action (aortist tense). In other words, it is not the tense of ongoing actions. It is definitve. He says that this prayer of Jesus is asking God to end the world as we know it and establish His Kingdom as He promised. I like that.
"Hallowed be thy name" is passive voice. I always thought it meant we should treat God's name as holy. In the Bible, passive voice implies Divine action. Remember, the Jewish awe of God's Holy Name led them to avoid using it. So, for example, in Matthew, the Kingdom of God is called the Kingdom of Heaven. Brown says that this is actually a request for God to make His own name holy, i.e., glorify your name. This is a short hand way of saying "establish your kingdom." The next two verses are quite overt: "Thy kingdom come" and "Thy will be done" mean just that. However, it means "NOW." This insight has changed my prayer. The tension I feel in my life, those experiences of sin, evil and 'the absence of God' are real. We do live in a 'not yet' time. Praying this prayer means asking God to estblish His kingdom.
"Give (once and for all) the bread ??" There is much discussion about what exactly the Greek word means which we transalte "daily." Brown makes a good case that it literally means the bread of tomorrow, i.e., the bread of the great Messianic feast. In other words, establish the kingdom and feed us at the great table! The number of parables which Jesus preached about tables seems to reinforce this idea.
We pray "forgive us our trespasses" in my church. Matthew and Didache have "debts" while Luke has "sins" and then "debts." I like debts better than trespasses, for the simple reason that my debts to God are not simply sins. I also have the debt of all I have received from God. Every blessing is a gift. To forgive a debt is to not demand it be paid back. Once more, this is a common theme of Jesus' parables. At the final judgment, it is our prayer that God will write off all our debts, everything we owe. This is forgiveness of sins, but it is so much more!
The Greek word for 'temptation' is the same word for 'test.' It can mean either. In the last days, Jesus says, it will be so severe that no one would survive without God's grace. I think Jesus is reminding us that as we pray for the Kingdom to come, we are also in need of protection in the time of great testing. Deliver us from "evil" can also be translated from "the evil one." I think there is a great battle and Jesus told Peter to pray because Satan intended to sift him. So it is true of us. Satan is real and he is dangerous.
So when I pray, by myself, I often times make a conscious decision to ask God to establish His kingdom and protect us. I beg Him to bring us to the table of the wedding feast. I use different terms and images, but all are focused on God, the King, coming to the world, once and for all, and setting things right. Because of the struggles I see around me, it is easy to make such a prayer. God is not (fully) reigning right now. This is why it is hard for us to believe. Yet, He is coming. Perhaps when enough of us pray for the kingdom to come He will come? I do not know. I do know Jesus told us to pray for it. So I do.
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