The Still-Living God
“’See I am making all things new,’” God tells us this morning in the Book of Revelation (21:5). It doesn’t really feel like it today, though, does it? But it is true nonetheless. God also says, “’I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end’” (21:6). The beginning and the end. Somehow, the end sounds like it’s connected to the beginning. In my first sermon I preached as your pastor, at the very beginning of our ministry together, I discussed how the God of our faith is a living God, one who welcomes and invites questions and even arguments. In the name of following this living God, I urged all of you to come to Board and Council meetings and ask some questions. I dared you to find out what it means when we say we are Pilgrim Congregational United Church of Christ. I encouraged the students in Sunday school—both young and older—to challenge the teachers in what they think. I even invited the entire congregation to question me about the incredibly radical and scandalous things that I would claim from this pulpit the Gospel is saying. (I remember getting some quiet giggles when I said that—something tells me times have changed.) I also added that I planned to challenge all of you as well. I hope I made good on that promise.
Since that time, we’ve been busy. More for interest’s sake, I checked on a couple statistics this past week. During my time as your pastor, I’ve performed 18 baptisms, presided at 40 funerals, officiated at five weddings, made 893 pastoral visits, and preached at two Baccalaureate services. Over the years, we as a congregation have seen such activities as Trunk-or-Treats, increasingly involved old-fashioned Pilgrim Thanksgiving services, a Stations of the Cross Good Friday service, an annual Blessing of the Animals, Trivia Nites, a two-year long radio show, Kid Day breakfasts and parade floats, and Parties in the Park. We’ve shared time together learning about church history, the Bible—both in written form and how it appears in popular films—other world religions; we’ve looked at social and justice issues, and shared many, many meals together, not to mention cups of coffee. (I did not try to count either of those categories.)
In the settings of the wider church, we’ve witnessed quite the interesting period concerning the United Church of Christ, including the “God Is Still Speaking” initiative, the “Bouncer” commercial ads banned from the major TV networks, a controversial General Synod resolution supporting marriage equality, an IRS investigation of our national church offices, the public media attention surrounding Jeremiah Wright (former pastor of our denomination’s largest church), and most recently in our own Minnesota Conference—the passionate, heated, and at times very uncomfortable and ugly conversation about the future of Pilgrim Point Camp. During my time here, we’ve tried many new things, and not all of them worked. But some did. But, one question we might ask ourselves from time to time, what was it all for?
The passage from Revelation ends in an interesting way. We have all this beautiful language about the new heavens and the new earth, and God dwelling right here with the people, and this stuff about the Alpha and Omega—all images dripping with eternal significance—and then the passage ends with God saying, “’To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life’” (21:6). God explains that God is the beginning and the end and then declares, “To the thirsty I will give water.” In some ways, this might sound out of place, but really, it isn’t at all. The reading from Mark we heard today—verses from the first chapter of our earliest gospel—serves as the earliest narrative we have telling us about the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. We’ve heard from Revelation—the end; and here we hear Jesus’ first proclamation—the beginning. “Now after John was arrested,” Mark explains, “Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near (or is at hand)’” (1:14-15).
Of course, as we’ve heard so many times in the last five years, Jesus’ opening words carry not just personal or religious meaning, but radical social and political implications. Under the heel of Rome, good news was always supposed to be about the Emperor, not the God of a conquered people. And this kingdom of God coming near—or worse, being at hand as the Greek can also be translated—represents a direct challenge to the sovereignty of the Empire. From these first words, it is clear that Jesus proclaims a new order with new values, one that flies in the face of the Empire and any powers-that-be that seek to conquer through violence and rule by fear; any system that allows the rich to keep their bellies nice and full, while the poor starve; any social understanding that values the worth and dignity of some folks over others; any political or economic outlook that sees the earth and its resources as belonging exclusively to those in power and not to the God who created it all. These are the systems of thought and power that Jesus attacks in these opening words. I know these verses seem short, but they pack a punch.
The new kingdom that Jesus proclaims and tells so many parables about continues to challenge us today. When the rubber meets the road, the way we look at the world shows how little things have changed since Roman times. In the grand scheme of things, the Empire has yet to fall. Jesus boldly claimed that this God of his continually oppressed and exploited people, the God to whom the world and all that is in it truly belong (Ps. 24:1), the God who is also the Alpha and the Omega—the beginning and the end, as Revelation describes—this eternal God is concerned, eternally, with giving water to the thirsty. Yes, something as simple as that act of mercy has central importance to the Eternal God of the Universe. We’ve heard again and again over the years how the church is mission; that taking part in God’s mission—the mission of compassion, love for enemy as well as neighbor, the mission of caring for and with the least of these (Mt. 25)—that, sisters and brothers is the whole point of church and of the entire Christian life.
Ecclesiastes reminds us that there is a time for everything (3:1), and we know too well the old adage that the only constant is change. But I believe that’s not exactly right. There is another constant—an eternal one: God’s love. Through all the church meetings, all the Bible study classes, all the worship services, all the attempts at new ideas (whether successes or not), this love from God stands forever. And as we’ve heard over and over again (I hope), this love serves both to comfort us and to challenge us. The love of God that always supports us also constantly calls us to be agents of that love, empowers us to serve and work as members of the very Body of Christ. This Body always has Christ as its head and God’s work as its mission, no matter who your pastor happens to be. This much is true always.
I thank you for the opportunity to serve with you as partners in Christ’s service for these last five years. My prayer for all of you is that you continue to sense the presence of the living and loving God sustaining you and impelling you always to be about the work of God in the world. This God we claim—and who claims us—is indeed the Alpha and the Omega, and will continue to seek to give water to the thirsty until all need is quenched.
In this, and in all things, thanks be to God. Amen.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thanksgiving 2008
Well, I figured since I posted my Fourth of July sermon and my Halloween sermon, it's only fair that I push my Thanksgiving message on you. So, for any readers who still check out this blog, here you go:
Identity Crisis
At tables across the country tomorrow, families and friends will share meals--many of them pausing beforehand to name a list of things for which they are thankful. For lots of folks, expressing gratitude may be more difficult this year, with the increasingly stressful economy where it is right before holiday time. I read a news story this week reminding us that all the recent company bailouts--however you feel about them--are leaving the poor behind. By so many measures, the number of people dealing with poverty is increasing, and the news article expressed doubt that economic bailouts of corporations would get much help to those at the bottom.
Regardless, I believe we still have much for which to be thankful. I, for one, still feel much gratitude for the fact that the election season is over. And of course, the results of the presidential election carry an additional strange, hard-to-define meaning for those of us in the United Church of Christ. However we feel about the winner, it’s hard to deny that the news headline on the United Church of Christ website the next day held special relevance for us: “20-year UCC member elected U.S. President.” Before anyone gets uncomfortable, this isn’t about the winner of the presidential election, but it is about us.
As we gather this evening to express thanksgiving, we know that’s not the only reason we hold this service here at Pilgrim Church. The black and white Pilgrim costumes should be enough to give that away. Part of why we gather this night is to honor our unique heritage as the denominational descendants of the Pilgrims who founded the Plymouth Colony, our special tradition that includes the Puritans of Massachusetts Bay, the rich history of Old South Church in Boston, a key role in the American Revolution and the early years of the Republic, the central event of the Amistad incident in our understanding of ourselves as a denomination, our historic commitments to the social causes of abolition and women’s empowerment, and even 200 years of existence as the dominant form of Christianity in New England from the arrival of the Mayflower in 1620 until the Irish potato famine of the 1840’s that first brought large numbers of Catholics to the United States. That period of church dominance included the time in which Congregationalism served as the official state church of Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Vermont, and what became Maine.
Much has changed since that time. During my chaplain internship one summer in seminary, our group of students--which besides myself consisted of three Catholics and a Methodist--was assigned the task of preparing a worship service for the mid-summer retreat for chaplain interns in the St. Louis area. As we searched through ours, and each others’, denominational worship books for ideas, one of the Catholic students was looking through my UCC Book of Worship and laughed as she came across a line in one of the prayers: “Grant to the United Church of Christ a secure sense of our identity…” Coming from a Catholic perspective, she didn’t understand how a denomination wouldn’t have a sense of their own identity. How could we not know who we are?
That episode occurred in the summer of 2002. Much has also happened since that time. Looking back at just the few years since I graduated from seminary, we’ve seen the God Is Still Speaking initiative, our “Bouncer” commercial ads banned from the major TV networks, a controversial General Synod resolution supporting marriage equality, and the presidential campaign of Barack Obama that involved the only IRS investigation of an entire denomination, not to mention the very public media attention given to Jeremiah Wright, former pastor of our denomination’s largest church. After the networks declared Obama the winner on Election Night, I mentioned to a friend that if he continues to identify with the UCC, that means that the chairperson of the NAACP, the Executive Director of Americans United for Separation of Church and State, the chairperson of the Democratic Party, and now the President-Elect of the United States are all affiliated with the United Church of Christ. (Now, there’s a conspiracy for Fox News to look into.) In just the last six years, much has happened. Any folks who still claim to have never heard of the United Church of Christ clearly haven’t been paying attention to the world around them. Whether or not we’re comfortable with the public image of the UCC that has emerged, securing a sense of our identity does not seem to be a problem at the moment.
The question of identity is a funny thing. Identity can empower to overcome incredible obstacles, and it can also bind people to unhealthy and abusive situations. It creates bonds with the past, and also creates the temptation to stay stuck there. It can provide a vision behind which people can unite, and it can capture your mind along with your imagination, leading down a dark path we don’t see.
One of the clearest lessons of Christian history reveals the dangers of confusing our spiritual loyalty with the dominant culture. So much of the heart of the Gospel was sacrificed the day the Roman Emperor Constantine embraced the Christian faith. The struggle against powers and principalities became entirely spiritualized; surely Christians couldn’t be encouraged to defy a Christian Emperor. Even the early New England Congregationalists--despite their many honorable ventures--abused their powers as the culturally dominant force. Baptists were run out of Massachusetts because of their strange ways, groups of people were politically targeted as witches to execute in Salem, and of course, let’s not forget the increasingly hostile and bigoted attitudes the immigrant residents of New England showed the people who really had lived there for generations and who had been there first. (I always see more than a bit of irony anytime a non-Native American talks up immigration reform. I doubt the Pilgrims bothered to get proper work visas or green cards from the tribes on the Atlantic coast.)
The Book of Deuteronomy reminds us (in the New Revised Standard Version), “Take care that you do not forget the LORD your God, by failing to keep [God’s] commandments…When you have eaten your fill and have built fine houses and live in them, and when your herds and flocks have multiplied, and your silver and gold is multiplied, then do not exalt yourself, forgetting the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, who led you through the great and terrible wilderness…Do not say to yourself, ‘My power and the might of my own hand have gotten me this wealth’” (8:11-17).
That idea is quite countercultural. Some might even call it un-American. These verses call us to account anytime we get all puffed up over our country’s tradition of rugged individualism, or our Puritan work ethic, or our marvel at American ingenuity, or our insistence on American exceptionalism. Yes, our ancestors worked hard. Yes, we work hard. But to think that’s the reason we have running water, DVD players, personal computers, video games, and cell phones while millions suffer in squalid poverty--that is an obscene way to talk about God. How can we possibly believe we deserve all our resources more than a starving child does? Is that how God works? Is that what the Bible tells us? Is that what it means to give thanks?
The truth is that the garbage that comes out of the mouths of the preachers of the prosperity gospel should sound much more offensive than any four letter word about some bodily function. The values that our society’s priorities reveal sure seem strange. When we are tempted to think that God has blessed us into prosperity, or power, or dominance, we would do well to remember Mary’s song from the Gospel of Luke, “’[God] has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. [God] has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; [God] has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty’” (vss. 51-53). When I see the incredible disparity of wealth between nations, I think we should probably stop asking God to bless America; God needs to bless some other countries for a while. How about God blessing Haiti, or the people of Cuba? The people of Iraq sure could use some of that blessing, and certainly so many in Sudan need God’s blessings more than we do. We see how Americans handle material blessings when the CEO’s of the “Big Three” automakers fly their private jets to Washington to ask for a bailout and even ride in their own limousines when traveling to and from the Capitol building. Our political leaders--from both major parties--may want to bless corporations like Citigroup, but God does not. While I believe it is true that God loves all, the stories we find repeatedly in scripture tell us that God does indeed take sides, and that God always takes the side of the oppressed, the outcast, the exploited, the displaced, the poor. In the Bible, God never takes the side of the powerful, the rich, those with earthly might, and those who assume they alone always possess God’s blessings.
Thanksgiving is quite a time to celebrate our identity, and indeed a time to give thanks to God. Our Christian identity includes a commitment never to accept a power structure as blessed by God in which suffering is permitted while those on top grow more prosperous; that’s what makes the Kingdom of God other than what we have now. And let us not fall into the trap of believing thanksgiving means we deserve the abundance we have. True thanksgiving calls us to see that all are God’s gifts, so that we may use them as part of God’s Mission. After all, it is God who liberates us; it was God who led us--and leads us still--through the great and terrible wilderness. Any blessings God grants are so that we may be a blessing to all, especially to those who appear to be without such blessing. That’s what giving thanks really means. Thanks be to God.
Identity Crisis
At tables across the country tomorrow, families and friends will share meals--many of them pausing beforehand to name a list of things for which they are thankful. For lots of folks, expressing gratitude may be more difficult this year, with the increasingly stressful economy where it is right before holiday time. I read a news story this week reminding us that all the recent company bailouts--however you feel about them--are leaving the poor behind. By so many measures, the number of people dealing with poverty is increasing, and the news article expressed doubt that economic bailouts of corporations would get much help to those at the bottom.
Regardless, I believe we still have much for which to be thankful. I, for one, still feel much gratitude for the fact that the election season is over. And of course, the results of the presidential election carry an additional strange, hard-to-define meaning for those of us in the United Church of Christ. However we feel about the winner, it’s hard to deny that the news headline on the United Church of Christ website the next day held special relevance for us: “20-year UCC member elected U.S. President.” Before anyone gets uncomfortable, this isn’t about the winner of the presidential election, but it is about us.
As we gather this evening to express thanksgiving, we know that’s not the only reason we hold this service here at Pilgrim Church. The black and white Pilgrim costumes should be enough to give that away. Part of why we gather this night is to honor our unique heritage as the denominational descendants of the Pilgrims who founded the Plymouth Colony, our special tradition that includes the Puritans of Massachusetts Bay, the rich history of Old South Church in Boston, a key role in the American Revolution and the early years of the Republic, the central event of the Amistad incident in our understanding of ourselves as a denomination, our historic commitments to the social causes of abolition and women’s empowerment, and even 200 years of existence as the dominant form of Christianity in New England from the arrival of the Mayflower in 1620 until the Irish potato famine of the 1840’s that first brought large numbers of Catholics to the United States. That period of church dominance included the time in which Congregationalism served as the official state church of Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Vermont, and what became Maine.
Much has changed since that time. During my chaplain internship one summer in seminary, our group of students--which besides myself consisted of three Catholics and a Methodist--was assigned the task of preparing a worship service for the mid-summer retreat for chaplain interns in the St. Louis area. As we searched through ours, and each others’, denominational worship books for ideas, one of the Catholic students was looking through my UCC Book of Worship and laughed as she came across a line in one of the prayers: “Grant to the United Church of Christ a secure sense of our identity…” Coming from a Catholic perspective, she didn’t understand how a denomination wouldn’t have a sense of their own identity. How could we not know who we are?
That episode occurred in the summer of 2002. Much has also happened since that time. Looking back at just the few years since I graduated from seminary, we’ve seen the God Is Still Speaking initiative, our “Bouncer” commercial ads banned from the major TV networks, a controversial General Synod resolution supporting marriage equality, and the presidential campaign of Barack Obama that involved the only IRS investigation of an entire denomination, not to mention the very public media attention given to Jeremiah Wright, former pastor of our denomination’s largest church. After the networks declared Obama the winner on Election Night, I mentioned to a friend that if he continues to identify with the UCC, that means that the chairperson of the NAACP, the Executive Director of Americans United for Separation of Church and State, the chairperson of the Democratic Party, and now the President-Elect of the United States are all affiliated with the United Church of Christ. (Now, there’s a conspiracy for Fox News to look into.) In just the last six years, much has happened. Any folks who still claim to have never heard of the United Church of Christ clearly haven’t been paying attention to the world around them. Whether or not we’re comfortable with the public image of the UCC that has emerged, securing a sense of our identity does not seem to be a problem at the moment.
The question of identity is a funny thing. Identity can empower to overcome incredible obstacles, and it can also bind people to unhealthy and abusive situations. It creates bonds with the past, and also creates the temptation to stay stuck there. It can provide a vision behind which people can unite, and it can capture your mind along with your imagination, leading down a dark path we don’t see.
One of the clearest lessons of Christian history reveals the dangers of confusing our spiritual loyalty with the dominant culture. So much of the heart of the Gospel was sacrificed the day the Roman Emperor Constantine embraced the Christian faith. The struggle against powers and principalities became entirely spiritualized; surely Christians couldn’t be encouraged to defy a Christian Emperor. Even the early New England Congregationalists--despite their many honorable ventures--abused their powers as the culturally dominant force. Baptists were run out of Massachusetts because of their strange ways, groups of people were politically targeted as witches to execute in Salem, and of course, let’s not forget the increasingly hostile and bigoted attitudes the immigrant residents of New England showed the people who really had lived there for generations and who had been there first. (I always see more than a bit of irony anytime a non-Native American talks up immigration reform. I doubt the Pilgrims bothered to get proper work visas or green cards from the tribes on the Atlantic coast.)
The Book of Deuteronomy reminds us (in the New Revised Standard Version), “Take care that you do not forget the LORD your God, by failing to keep [God’s] commandments…When you have eaten your fill and have built fine houses and live in them, and when your herds and flocks have multiplied, and your silver and gold is multiplied, then do not exalt yourself, forgetting the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, who led you through the great and terrible wilderness…Do not say to yourself, ‘My power and the might of my own hand have gotten me this wealth’” (8:11-17).
That idea is quite countercultural. Some might even call it un-American. These verses call us to account anytime we get all puffed up over our country’s tradition of rugged individualism, or our Puritan work ethic, or our marvel at American ingenuity, or our insistence on American exceptionalism. Yes, our ancestors worked hard. Yes, we work hard. But to think that’s the reason we have running water, DVD players, personal computers, video games, and cell phones while millions suffer in squalid poverty--that is an obscene way to talk about God. How can we possibly believe we deserve all our resources more than a starving child does? Is that how God works? Is that what the Bible tells us? Is that what it means to give thanks?
The truth is that the garbage that comes out of the mouths of the preachers of the prosperity gospel should sound much more offensive than any four letter word about some bodily function. The values that our society’s priorities reveal sure seem strange. When we are tempted to think that God has blessed us into prosperity, or power, or dominance, we would do well to remember Mary’s song from the Gospel of Luke, “’[God] has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. [God] has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; [God] has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty’” (vss. 51-53). When I see the incredible disparity of wealth between nations, I think we should probably stop asking God to bless America; God needs to bless some other countries for a while. How about God blessing Haiti, or the people of Cuba? The people of Iraq sure could use some of that blessing, and certainly so many in Sudan need God’s blessings more than we do. We see how Americans handle material blessings when the CEO’s of the “Big Three” automakers fly their private jets to Washington to ask for a bailout and even ride in their own limousines when traveling to and from the Capitol building. Our political leaders--from both major parties--may want to bless corporations like Citigroup, but God does not. While I believe it is true that God loves all, the stories we find repeatedly in scripture tell us that God does indeed take sides, and that God always takes the side of the oppressed, the outcast, the exploited, the displaced, the poor. In the Bible, God never takes the side of the powerful, the rich, those with earthly might, and those who assume they alone always possess God’s blessings.
Thanksgiving is quite a time to celebrate our identity, and indeed a time to give thanks to God. Our Christian identity includes a commitment never to accept a power structure as blessed by God in which suffering is permitted while those on top grow more prosperous; that’s what makes the Kingdom of God other than what we have now. And let us not fall into the trap of believing thanksgiving means we deserve the abundance we have. True thanksgiving calls us to see that all are God’s gifts, so that we may use them as part of God’s Mission. After all, it is God who liberates us; it was God who led us--and leads us still--through the great and terrible wilderness. Any blessings God grants are so that we may be a blessing to all, especially to those who appear to be without such blessing. That’s what giving thanks really means. Thanks be to God.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
A Theology of Halloween
For anyone interested, and for those who never knew there could be such a thing, I give you this Sunday's Halloween sermon:
Love vs. Fear
Well, does anyone know what Friday is? That’s right, it’s Halloween! As many of you know, Halloween is my very favorite holiday of all. I love seeing the costumes and decorations, I love watching scary movies, and I love hearing a really good ghost story. Most of this stuff doesn’t have much to do with working in the church, though. In fact, many Christians would find it strange that a pastor likes Halloween so much--and even more so, there are some who think a Christian embrace of such a holiday is inappropriate. The decorations and stories and many of the costumes of this festival have to do with images of fear, after all, and things of the darkness are not to be celebrated in the minds of many.
I can see that point. Many people respond to Halloween differently. In college, one of my friends thought it would be fun to go to a Halloween party as a ghost--not anything fancy, but your regular ole’ ghost. He took one of MY sheets, poked two holes in it for eyes and threw that thing right over his head. Yes, that ole costume. It was quite interesting what happened when we went to the party. He decided he wouldn’t speak to anyone, but kept going up to different groups at the party and just stood there. Here’s the crazy thing--instead of the people becoming uneasy at this non-speaking ghost, everyone assumed he was part of the group. He was one of the most popular guys at the party, and he didn’t even utter a word.
The following year, I decided I was going to try something like that. I had an all-black costume that was comprised mostly of a robe and a hood. But the hood included cloth that went over my face, so that I could see out, but no one could see who I was. The costume shrouded me in darkness, literally. Well, I thought, I’ll try what Keith did the year before and have some fun with this. So, I went to a party that year and also wouldn’t talk. I went up to various groups and just stood there. I did not get the same reaction. I got strange looks, groups actually moved away from me, and everyone’s unease showed in their eyes. Everyone assumed I was not part of their group, but a stranger.
After that night, I concluded that there are two possible explanations. Maybe I didn’t use enough deodorant. But I think more likely, the costumes themselves created different reactions. The sheet ghost costume is childlike, innocent, familiar, the same costume worn by several characters in the Charlie Brown Great Pumpkin cartoon. It was an image of comfort. The all black robe and hood, however, reminiscent of a grim reaper, was more disconcerting to people. Folks found it more threatening. It struck a note of fear.
Without stretching the analogy too far, I hope, I see in this story two images of God; or at least, two ways we as people of God imagine and respond to God. It’s a broad generalization I know, but often we see either a God of fear or a God of love. Sometimes, even the differences between the Old and New Testaments are unfairly described in this way, although I see both images of God present in both testaments. I think we know both these Gods. The God of fear is the one who harshly punishes even the slightest misdeed, who demands a blood sacrifice to atone for people’s sins, who will get you if you’re not good enough, and who might also condemn you to eternal hell when you die, for the same reason. The God of love, on the other hand, seems to be the God of our best hopes--the God of forgiveness and grace and peace. The God who promises a comforting presence, always, and who always offers another chance. While both are sides of God described in scripture, usually people and churches operate out of worshiping one or the other, even despite whichever God to whom they give lip service.
While we often think of God in one of these two categories--love or fear--it should come as no surprise that history shows human treatment of each other also reflecting one of these two mindsets. I believe that if we truly worship and celebrate a God of love, then we will tend to act toward others in a similar way, and if we worship and dread a God of fear, then we treat our neighbors likewise. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus--quoting verses from the Hebrew Scriptures--also makes this connection, and makes abundantly clear which God is his Father. “Jesus answered, ‘”Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” This is the greatest and the most important commandment. The second most important commandment is like it: “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.” The whole Law of Moses and the teachings of the prophets depend on these two commandments’” (Mt. 22:37-40). In Mark’s version of this event, Jesus begins his answer by quoting more of these Old Testament verses, “Jesus answered, ‘The first is, “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one…”’” (12:29). The God of judgment is one with the God of love, because the judgment of God always springs out of God’s love for the least and the last. But love, and not fear, is the basic element of what God is--that is what Jesus is reminding his listeners here.
Unfortunately, as clear as Jesus was, human history shows us time and time again worshiping the God of Fear. When the Pilgrims first landed, a mutual trust and respect for the local residents gave way to fearing “the heathen natives of this land” as the First Thanksgiving Proclamation in 1676 calls them. In 1692, fear of superstition combined with intentional manipulation by an elite group of community leaders led to the arrest of almost 150 people as witches in the Salem area of Massachusetts, and the execution of 20 of them. (Disturbingly, there are some historians who still contend there really was witchcraft going on in Salem.) In the 1950’s, fear of “un-American” political thought led to accusations, humiliations, and arrests, and a battering of the Revolution’s foundation of free thought and expression. These are all services of worship to the God of Fear.
These actions are not compatible with following Jesus and Jesus’ God. One commentator reminds us that “true religion springs from love of God,” and, “Its test is not what people feel but what they do. Genuine love of God inevitably leads to a second behavior: love of neighbor.” But we as a people continue to do otherwise, even in our own time. The purpose of terrorism, for instance, is to cause people to react with terror, to respond out of fear. Our actions as a nation since September 11 have shown that terrorism has won, so far. Our government’s entire agenda--whether foreign or domestic--has been borne out of fear or its perpetuation. We have seen warrant-less phone tapping, domestic spying, walls to protect us from foreigners, and political fear-mongering. The American people have responded with hate crimes against Muslims and Arabs, hate speech against Islam and immigrants, and yet more charges of ill-defined un-Americanism. Nevermind a prolonged war in a land that had nothing to do with the attacks on September 11. The God of Fear continues to demand--and receive--due tribute.
In a perfect example of the judgment of God based in love, the letter of 1 John reminds us again, “Those who say, ‘I love God,’ and hate [others] are liars” (1 Jn. 4:20). Another scholar asks about the bottom line, “How in real life, do we love? How, in the middle of a war, can we love our enemies? How do we illuminate the love of God and neighbor as a way of life?” This author goes on, “An oft-cited prophetic passage, Micah 6:8, tells us exactly how to love: struggle for justice; show mercy, kindness; walk humbly with God. Justice-making constitutes the how of God’s love whether we experience it between intimate lovers and friends or between ourselves and our enemies in contexts of conflict, including war.”
We are not following the God of Jesus, the God of Love, when we label others as outside the group. Whether it’s a “heathen native” of the mid-17th century, a “witch” in 1690’s Salem, a slave-lover in the antebellum South, a 1950’s communist on McCarthy’s list, or a Muslim who hates freedom or a filthy Arab or a dirty homosexual or an illegal or weak on terrorism; these labels are nothing more than slanders, demonizations, and continued tribute to that almighty God of Fear. In no uncertain terms, these reactions--springing from the fear of difference--are not Christian. That earlier scholar adds, “But we can be lovers of God and even of our enemies [remember that teaching from Jesus?] if we can loosen the grip of fear and its pathetic spawn, the demonization of enemies as unworthy of God’s love. The simple recognition of our enemy’s humanity, however distorted by violence it may have become, may crack open a door through which we can imagine meeting the enemy as a brother or sister.” In other words, one of the things Jesus makes clear in today’s gospel passage is that Christians have no business following a god of fear.
I got into a lively discussion at a dinner party once suggesting that Halloween is a more Christian holiday than Christmas. The way we celebrate Christmas is all about buying things for those who don’t need them and by over-indulging ourselves in the name of Jesus while the poor of the world continue to suffer. Halloween, besides serving as the only time many people bother to go up to their neighbors’ houses and actually interact with them, also holds deeper meaning. It is not about being afraid, believe it or not. It is rather about laughing in the face of fear and the things we fear: darkness, death, superstition, and monsters of every kind. Now, which sounds more Christian to you?
May we celebrate Halloween in its fullest sense, mocking the god of fear while meeting our neighbors face-to-face. Maybe we should even do those things year-round. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Love vs. Fear
Well, does anyone know what Friday is? That’s right, it’s Halloween! As many of you know, Halloween is my very favorite holiday of all. I love seeing the costumes and decorations, I love watching scary movies, and I love hearing a really good ghost story. Most of this stuff doesn’t have much to do with working in the church, though. In fact, many Christians would find it strange that a pastor likes Halloween so much--and even more so, there are some who think a Christian embrace of such a holiday is inappropriate. The decorations and stories and many of the costumes of this festival have to do with images of fear, after all, and things of the darkness are not to be celebrated in the minds of many.
I can see that point. Many people respond to Halloween differently. In college, one of my friends thought it would be fun to go to a Halloween party as a ghost--not anything fancy, but your regular ole’ ghost. He took one of MY sheets, poked two holes in it for eyes and threw that thing right over his head. Yes, that ole costume. It was quite interesting what happened when we went to the party. He decided he wouldn’t speak to anyone, but kept going up to different groups at the party and just stood there. Here’s the crazy thing--instead of the people becoming uneasy at this non-speaking ghost, everyone assumed he was part of the group. He was one of the most popular guys at the party, and he didn’t even utter a word.
The following year, I decided I was going to try something like that. I had an all-black costume that was comprised mostly of a robe and a hood. But the hood included cloth that went over my face, so that I could see out, but no one could see who I was. The costume shrouded me in darkness, literally. Well, I thought, I’ll try what Keith did the year before and have some fun with this. So, I went to a party that year and also wouldn’t talk. I went up to various groups and just stood there. I did not get the same reaction. I got strange looks, groups actually moved away from me, and everyone’s unease showed in their eyes. Everyone assumed I was not part of their group, but a stranger.
After that night, I concluded that there are two possible explanations. Maybe I didn’t use enough deodorant. But I think more likely, the costumes themselves created different reactions. The sheet ghost costume is childlike, innocent, familiar, the same costume worn by several characters in the Charlie Brown Great Pumpkin cartoon. It was an image of comfort. The all black robe and hood, however, reminiscent of a grim reaper, was more disconcerting to people. Folks found it more threatening. It struck a note of fear.
Without stretching the analogy too far, I hope, I see in this story two images of God; or at least, two ways we as people of God imagine and respond to God. It’s a broad generalization I know, but often we see either a God of fear or a God of love. Sometimes, even the differences between the Old and New Testaments are unfairly described in this way, although I see both images of God present in both testaments. I think we know both these Gods. The God of fear is the one who harshly punishes even the slightest misdeed, who demands a blood sacrifice to atone for people’s sins, who will get you if you’re not good enough, and who might also condemn you to eternal hell when you die, for the same reason. The God of love, on the other hand, seems to be the God of our best hopes--the God of forgiveness and grace and peace. The God who promises a comforting presence, always, and who always offers another chance. While both are sides of God described in scripture, usually people and churches operate out of worshiping one or the other, even despite whichever God to whom they give lip service.
While we often think of God in one of these two categories--love or fear--it should come as no surprise that history shows human treatment of each other also reflecting one of these two mindsets. I believe that if we truly worship and celebrate a God of love, then we will tend to act toward others in a similar way, and if we worship and dread a God of fear, then we treat our neighbors likewise. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus--quoting verses from the Hebrew Scriptures--also makes this connection, and makes abundantly clear which God is his Father. “Jesus answered, ‘”Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” This is the greatest and the most important commandment. The second most important commandment is like it: “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.” The whole Law of Moses and the teachings of the prophets depend on these two commandments’” (Mt. 22:37-40). In Mark’s version of this event, Jesus begins his answer by quoting more of these Old Testament verses, “Jesus answered, ‘The first is, “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one…”’” (12:29). The God of judgment is one with the God of love, because the judgment of God always springs out of God’s love for the least and the last. But love, and not fear, is the basic element of what God is--that is what Jesus is reminding his listeners here.
Unfortunately, as clear as Jesus was, human history shows us time and time again worshiping the God of Fear. When the Pilgrims first landed, a mutual trust and respect for the local residents gave way to fearing “the heathen natives of this land” as the First Thanksgiving Proclamation in 1676 calls them. In 1692, fear of superstition combined with intentional manipulation by an elite group of community leaders led to the arrest of almost 150 people as witches in the Salem area of Massachusetts, and the execution of 20 of them. (Disturbingly, there are some historians who still contend there really was witchcraft going on in Salem.) In the 1950’s, fear of “un-American” political thought led to accusations, humiliations, and arrests, and a battering of the Revolution’s foundation of free thought and expression. These are all services of worship to the God of Fear.
These actions are not compatible with following Jesus and Jesus’ God. One commentator reminds us that “true religion springs from love of God,” and, “Its test is not what people feel but what they do. Genuine love of God inevitably leads to a second behavior: love of neighbor.” But we as a people continue to do otherwise, even in our own time. The purpose of terrorism, for instance, is to cause people to react with terror, to respond out of fear. Our actions as a nation since September 11 have shown that terrorism has won, so far. Our government’s entire agenda--whether foreign or domestic--has been borne out of fear or its perpetuation. We have seen warrant-less phone tapping, domestic spying, walls to protect us from foreigners, and political fear-mongering. The American people have responded with hate crimes against Muslims and Arabs, hate speech against Islam and immigrants, and yet more charges of ill-defined un-Americanism. Nevermind a prolonged war in a land that had nothing to do with the attacks on September 11. The God of Fear continues to demand--and receive--due tribute.
In a perfect example of the judgment of God based in love, the letter of 1 John reminds us again, “Those who say, ‘I love God,’ and hate [others] are liars” (1 Jn. 4:20). Another scholar asks about the bottom line, “How in real life, do we love? How, in the middle of a war, can we love our enemies? How do we illuminate the love of God and neighbor as a way of life?” This author goes on, “An oft-cited prophetic passage, Micah 6:8, tells us exactly how to love: struggle for justice; show mercy, kindness; walk humbly with God. Justice-making constitutes the how of God’s love whether we experience it between intimate lovers and friends or between ourselves and our enemies in contexts of conflict, including war.”
We are not following the God of Jesus, the God of Love, when we label others as outside the group. Whether it’s a “heathen native” of the mid-17th century, a “witch” in 1690’s Salem, a slave-lover in the antebellum South, a 1950’s communist on McCarthy’s list, or a Muslim who hates freedom or a filthy Arab or a dirty homosexual or an illegal or weak on terrorism; these labels are nothing more than slanders, demonizations, and continued tribute to that almighty God of Fear. In no uncertain terms, these reactions--springing from the fear of difference--are not Christian. That earlier scholar adds, “But we can be lovers of God and even of our enemies [remember that teaching from Jesus?] if we can loosen the grip of fear and its pathetic spawn, the demonization of enemies as unworthy of God’s love. The simple recognition of our enemy’s humanity, however distorted by violence it may have become, may crack open a door through which we can imagine meeting the enemy as a brother or sister.” In other words, one of the things Jesus makes clear in today’s gospel passage is that Christians have no business following a god of fear.
I got into a lively discussion at a dinner party once suggesting that Halloween is a more Christian holiday than Christmas. The way we celebrate Christmas is all about buying things for those who don’t need them and by over-indulging ourselves in the name of Jesus while the poor of the world continue to suffer. Halloween, besides serving as the only time many people bother to go up to their neighbors’ houses and actually interact with them, also holds deeper meaning. It is not about being afraid, believe it or not. It is rather about laughing in the face of fear and the things we fear: darkness, death, superstition, and monsters of every kind. Now, which sounds more Christian to you?
May we celebrate Halloween in its fullest sense, mocking the god of fear while meeting our neighbors face-to-face. Maybe we should even do those things year-round. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Independence Day
Regarding the upcoming observance of Independence Day, I thought it appropriate to share the thoughts of this Sunday's sermon:
Confessions of a Pastor on Independence Day
There is a yard sign on the east side of Willmar--I know that’s pretty far away; Kim and I joke that when we go further than Hwy. 71 in Willmar, we know we’re really out of town--but there is a sign right on Hwy. 12 there that reads in bold letters, “America--love it or leave it.”
That sign always makes me cringe. Sometimes, I try to think of something clever to yell at the sign as we drive by, but somehow, yelling at inanimate objects doesn’t seem very sophisticated. I find the sign offensive, because I believe it intends to claim that any criticism of the United States is unpatriotic, disloyal, or treasonous. I could stand up here and try to explain how the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution is designed to allow for governmental criticism, because our country’s founders wisely understood that political power without criticism becomes power unchecked, and furthermore that if one were to take the Bill of Rights as a whole, the natural conclusion would be that it is meant to encourage dissent as patriotic obligation. Moreover, I could even tack on the famous quote by Benjamin Franklin--often called the “First American”--that “the first duty of every citizen is to question authority.”
But, despite my pretensions otherwise, I am no constitutional scholar. I am a Christian pastor. My vocation requires me not to look at the practices of our government and society through the lens of the Constitution or the principles of the Revolution (principles, by the way, that apparently allowed one in every five people across the colonies--that’s north and south--to be legally owned as property), but to proceed with commitment to discerning the will of God as revealed in the Gospel, even if that leads to criticism that is heard as disloyal, unpatriotic, and treasonous. I wish I could say that a view from that angle makes things more clear, bringing into sharp focus the difference between righteousness and sin, between right and wrong. But it doesn’t. It actually makes such discernment more difficult.
Scripture’s attitude toward earthly power is varied at best. The birth of the Hebrew nation takes place when slaves put their trust in the sovereignty of God instead of the Egyptian pharaoh. But after the Exodus and the time in which the Twelve Tribes were ruled by the Judges, the Hebrew Scriptures appear to become quite comfortable with a king being chosen to rule on behalf of God, and in God’s name. However, when the monarchy strayed from God’s commandments--as it so often did--the prophets arose to criticize their government in bombastic and inflammatory ways. Eventually, the Hebrew kingdoms were conquered, and the New Testament opens with an oppressive, authoritarian Roman Empire ruling the Mediterranean world and on its way to rising to even more power. This situation, in turn, fuels 1st century hopes for a Jewish Messiah, who--like Moses--will again deliver the people from bondage. It would seem that the Christian New Testament might be more unified in its approach to earthly authority, but we read in Paul’s Letter to the Romans the admonition, “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists authority resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment” (13:1-2). And yet, we find in the Book of Revelation, the Roman Empire imagined as the Beast that ruthlessly consumes the righteous. The fact of the matter is that rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and rendering unto God what is God’s is not a compromise for a people who believe that the “earth is the LORD’s and all that is in it” (Ps. 24:1).
The truth is that Christian pastors--and other people of faith--all over the land find it a challenge (to say the least) to integrate their vocation of faith with their American citizenship. If my ultimate loyalty is to the God revealed in Jesus Christ, then I have trouble pledging allegiance to a flag, or to the republic for which it stands, regardless of how good it may or may not be. You might not realize it, but it is a common struggle among mainline pastors how to address civic national holidays like the Fourth of July.
I feel like this internal conflict is further intensified within our own faith tradition--a tradition in which stands Zion Reformed Church (now Zion Reformed United Church of Christ) of Allentown, Pennsylvania where the Liberty Bell was hidden in 1777 to protect it from British plans to melt it down. A tradition in which Old South Congregational Church (also now known as Old South Congregational United Church of Christ) of Boston, Massachusetts stands, where the Boston Tea Party was planned in 1773. It is a tradition in which stands the Battle of Lexington-Concord in 1775, the opening battle of the American Revolution that was sparked by the British manhunt for two Congregationalists by the names of Sam Adams (who had taken the lead in planning and executing the Boston Tea Party) and John Hancock (who would serve as President of the Continental Congress when American independence was declared and therefore had the honor of being the first to sign the Declaration of Independence in July of 1776).
Ours is also the same faith tradition that joined with others in speaking out against the official legality of racial segregation and American imperial policy in Vietnam. It is the same tradition whose leader was arrested last year in front of the White House for protesting similar policies in Iraq and who has endorsed the Campaign Against Torture that condemns the immorality behind our government’s treatment of its enemies. (This leader has noted with both humor and seriousness that he is the first President of the UCC not to be invited to the White House.) And this faith tradition is the only religious denomination in U.S. history to be investigated by the Internal Revenue Service. What we may not realize is that all of these actions, whether from colonial days or periods within our own memory, violated the strictest sense of the words we find in the 13th chapter of the Letter to the Romans and have all been called disloyal, unpatriotic, and treasonous. Of course, so it was with Moses and the prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures, as well as any New Testament Christian who refused to acknowledge the Emperor as Lord, Savior, and God.
To speak in terms of ultimate loyalty is both bold and dangerous. It is to reject any notion of “both-and” and opt decisively for “either/or.” The dilemma of the Christian gospel is its demand for ministry to the “both-and,” while at the same time showing that loyalty can be to only one. We cannot serve two masters as Jesus reminds us in Matthew’s gospel; we cannot serve both God and mammon, and neither can we proclaim both Christ and Emperor as Lord. This is true regardless of which candidate or what party is in office. Some of you may know the name Jim Wallis, a minister who heads up the group Call for Renewal and its journal Sojourners. A few years ago, he became better known for writing a popular book entitled God’s Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It. But in an earlier work, The Soul of Politics, he warns of the danger of misplacing ultimate loyalty. He writes, “Both conservative and liberal religion have become culturally captive forces that merely cheer on the ideological camps with which each has identified. And religion as political cheerleader is invariably false religion.”
We’ve probably been taught the secular value of religious freedom--many of our ancestors came to North America to escape conflict fueled by religious differences. What we may not have heard is that there are theological reasons why the church should resist becoming one with the state. People of faith, as well as people of no faith, must always be free to criticize the government, to lift up a prophetic voice, to speak truth to power. I believe we are called always to live out our ultimate loyalty (apart from the state) and yet to engage the political process and forces of society in the name of the God of peace, justice, and love. I believe Christians are called to be “permanent dissenters,” never confusing our earthly citizenship with our loyalty to the Gospel; to be in the world, but not of the world. Another pastor writes, “Someone has said that the best citizen is not the one who says, ‘My country, right or wrong,’ but the one who strives always to direct his or her country to the right.” And I believe that holds true no matter what flag happens to be flying over our heads. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Confessions of a Pastor on Independence Day
There is a yard sign on the east side of Willmar--I know that’s pretty far away; Kim and I joke that when we go further than Hwy. 71 in Willmar, we know we’re really out of town--but there is a sign right on Hwy. 12 there that reads in bold letters, “America--love it or leave it.”
That sign always makes me cringe. Sometimes, I try to think of something clever to yell at the sign as we drive by, but somehow, yelling at inanimate objects doesn’t seem very sophisticated. I find the sign offensive, because I believe it intends to claim that any criticism of the United States is unpatriotic, disloyal, or treasonous. I could stand up here and try to explain how the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution is designed to allow for governmental criticism, because our country’s founders wisely understood that political power without criticism becomes power unchecked, and furthermore that if one were to take the Bill of Rights as a whole, the natural conclusion would be that it is meant to encourage dissent as patriotic obligation. Moreover, I could even tack on the famous quote by Benjamin Franklin--often called the “First American”--that “the first duty of every citizen is to question authority.”
But, despite my pretensions otherwise, I am no constitutional scholar. I am a Christian pastor. My vocation requires me not to look at the practices of our government and society through the lens of the Constitution or the principles of the Revolution (principles, by the way, that apparently allowed one in every five people across the colonies--that’s north and south--to be legally owned as property), but to proceed with commitment to discerning the will of God as revealed in the Gospel, even if that leads to criticism that is heard as disloyal, unpatriotic, and treasonous. I wish I could say that a view from that angle makes things more clear, bringing into sharp focus the difference between righteousness and sin, between right and wrong. But it doesn’t. It actually makes such discernment more difficult.
Scripture’s attitude toward earthly power is varied at best. The birth of the Hebrew nation takes place when slaves put their trust in the sovereignty of God instead of the Egyptian pharaoh. But after the Exodus and the time in which the Twelve Tribes were ruled by the Judges, the Hebrew Scriptures appear to become quite comfortable with a king being chosen to rule on behalf of God, and in God’s name. However, when the monarchy strayed from God’s commandments--as it so often did--the prophets arose to criticize their government in bombastic and inflammatory ways. Eventually, the Hebrew kingdoms were conquered, and the New Testament opens with an oppressive, authoritarian Roman Empire ruling the Mediterranean world and on its way to rising to even more power. This situation, in turn, fuels 1st century hopes for a Jewish Messiah, who--like Moses--will again deliver the people from bondage. It would seem that the Christian New Testament might be more unified in its approach to earthly authority, but we read in Paul’s Letter to the Romans the admonition, “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists authority resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment” (13:1-2). And yet, we find in the Book of Revelation, the Roman Empire imagined as the Beast that ruthlessly consumes the righteous. The fact of the matter is that rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and rendering unto God what is God’s is not a compromise for a people who believe that the “earth is the LORD’s and all that is in it” (Ps. 24:1).
The truth is that Christian pastors--and other people of faith--all over the land find it a challenge (to say the least) to integrate their vocation of faith with their American citizenship. If my ultimate loyalty is to the God revealed in Jesus Christ, then I have trouble pledging allegiance to a flag, or to the republic for which it stands, regardless of how good it may or may not be. You might not realize it, but it is a common struggle among mainline pastors how to address civic national holidays like the Fourth of July.
I feel like this internal conflict is further intensified within our own faith tradition--a tradition in which stands Zion Reformed Church (now Zion Reformed United Church of Christ) of Allentown, Pennsylvania where the Liberty Bell was hidden in 1777 to protect it from British plans to melt it down. A tradition in which Old South Congregational Church (also now known as Old South Congregational United Church of Christ) of Boston, Massachusetts stands, where the Boston Tea Party was planned in 1773. It is a tradition in which stands the Battle of Lexington-Concord in 1775, the opening battle of the American Revolution that was sparked by the British manhunt for two Congregationalists by the names of Sam Adams (who had taken the lead in planning and executing the Boston Tea Party) and John Hancock (who would serve as President of the Continental Congress when American independence was declared and therefore had the honor of being the first to sign the Declaration of Independence in July of 1776).
Ours is also the same faith tradition that joined with others in speaking out against the official legality of racial segregation and American imperial policy in Vietnam. It is the same tradition whose leader was arrested last year in front of the White House for protesting similar policies in Iraq and who has endorsed the Campaign Against Torture that condemns the immorality behind our government’s treatment of its enemies. (This leader has noted with both humor and seriousness that he is the first President of the UCC not to be invited to the White House.) And this faith tradition is the only religious denomination in U.S. history to be investigated by the Internal Revenue Service. What we may not realize is that all of these actions, whether from colonial days or periods within our own memory, violated the strictest sense of the words we find in the 13th chapter of the Letter to the Romans and have all been called disloyal, unpatriotic, and treasonous. Of course, so it was with Moses and the prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures, as well as any New Testament Christian who refused to acknowledge the Emperor as Lord, Savior, and God.
To speak in terms of ultimate loyalty is both bold and dangerous. It is to reject any notion of “both-and” and opt decisively for “either/or.” The dilemma of the Christian gospel is its demand for ministry to the “both-and,” while at the same time showing that loyalty can be to only one. We cannot serve two masters as Jesus reminds us in Matthew’s gospel; we cannot serve both God and mammon, and neither can we proclaim both Christ and Emperor as Lord. This is true regardless of which candidate or what party is in office. Some of you may know the name Jim Wallis, a minister who heads up the group Call for Renewal and its journal Sojourners. A few years ago, he became better known for writing a popular book entitled God’s Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It. But in an earlier work, The Soul of Politics, he warns of the danger of misplacing ultimate loyalty. He writes, “Both conservative and liberal religion have become culturally captive forces that merely cheer on the ideological camps with which each has identified. And religion as political cheerleader is invariably false religion.”
We’ve probably been taught the secular value of religious freedom--many of our ancestors came to North America to escape conflict fueled by religious differences. What we may not have heard is that there are theological reasons why the church should resist becoming one with the state. People of faith, as well as people of no faith, must always be free to criticize the government, to lift up a prophetic voice, to speak truth to power. I believe we are called always to live out our ultimate loyalty (apart from the state) and yet to engage the political process and forces of society in the name of the God of peace, justice, and love. I believe Christians are called to be “permanent dissenters,” never confusing our earthly citizenship with our loyalty to the Gospel; to be in the world, but not of the world. Another pastor writes, “Someone has said that the best citizen is not the one who says, ‘My country, right or wrong,’ but the one who strives always to direct his or her country to the right.” And I believe that holds true no matter what flag happens to be flying over our heads. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Religious Freedom
We got a late start to our radio show on Monday, but those who waited patiently enough heard our discussion about commitment to religious freedom. The question I posed went something like "Should we (whatever 'we' means) care about religious freedom in other countries, even when it's not our religion?"
To sum up, for me the answer is a resounding yes. Not only do I think such a commitment falls under Jesus and Paul's reminder to love our neighbors as ourselves, but I went so far as to claim that to care only about persecution of one's own religion is hypocrisy.
If you tuned in this week, you may have heard the flurry of phone calls we received in the last few minutes. All the calls were quality, but one particular caller really piqued my interest in having another discussion. To paraphrase, this caller said that religion--and I think he meant all religion--breeds intolerance.
I lightly remarked that I thought intolerance by religious institutions was certainly a widespread phenomenon, but, naturally, I was reluctant to admit that the original teachings of religious figures (Jesus, for example) spurred intolerance. But as with all things on the show and on this blog, disagreement is welcome.
The truth is that religion--like any other institution--can be used for good or for ill. Any serious glance at history shows how religious institutions, including Christianity, fosters intolerance. It's easy to see how much popular religion, especially fundamentalism, leads to intolerance. But a more in-depth look may also bring the other side to light: for many years, the church was the center of learning; in the American experience, many Northern churches were at the center of the abolition movement (I would be remiss not to mention the Congregationalists' wide participation in that movement); and during the civil rights struggles of the 1950's and '60's, black churches were often the base of operations for assaults on Jim Crow, discrimination, and inequality. To make the claim that religion always breeds intolerance, one has to explain the work of the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.
All in all, I think this week's topic really brought out some good discussion; I'd love to keep it up!
Next week will be our season finale, and I think the caller's comments about religion begs the question for our topic on 5-19: what is the point of Christianity?
Always looking forward to some spirited conversation, this is Pastor Chris signing off.
To sum up, for me the answer is a resounding yes. Not only do I think such a commitment falls under Jesus and Paul's reminder to love our neighbors as ourselves, but I went so far as to claim that to care only about persecution of one's own religion is hypocrisy.
If you tuned in this week, you may have heard the flurry of phone calls we received in the last few minutes. All the calls were quality, but one particular caller really piqued my interest in having another discussion. To paraphrase, this caller said that religion--and I think he meant all religion--breeds intolerance.
I lightly remarked that I thought intolerance by religious institutions was certainly a widespread phenomenon, but, naturally, I was reluctant to admit that the original teachings of religious figures (Jesus, for example) spurred intolerance. But as with all things on the show and on this blog, disagreement is welcome.
The truth is that religion--like any other institution--can be used for good or for ill. Any serious glance at history shows how religious institutions, including Christianity, fosters intolerance. It's easy to see how much popular religion, especially fundamentalism, leads to intolerance. But a more in-depth look may also bring the other side to light: for many years, the church was the center of learning; in the American experience, many Northern churches were at the center of the abolition movement (I would be remiss not to mention the Congregationalists' wide participation in that movement); and during the civil rights struggles of the 1950's and '60's, black churches were often the base of operations for assaults on Jim Crow, discrimination, and inequality. To make the claim that religion always breeds intolerance, one has to explain the work of the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.
All in all, I think this week's topic really brought out some good discussion; I'd love to keep it up!
Next week will be our season finale, and I think the caller's comments about religion begs the question for our topic on 5-19: what is the point of Christianity?
Always looking forward to some spirited conversation, this is Pastor Chris signing off.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Christianity's Biggest Threat
We tried to go after a pretty big topic on the radio show this past Monday--"What is the biggest threat to Christianity?" A few interesting answers were thrown on the table, including disillusionment with religion and religion continuing to come to terms with modern ways of thinking.
I never really explained what I think is the biggest threat to Christianity: fundamentalism. One former Southern Baptist had this to say: "The inclination to conserve the creativities of the past can become such a compelling obsession that nothing new can ever pop into our heads. One of the tragedies of fundamentalism, religious or political or social, is that it is a joyless, argumentative, dogmatic, quarrelsome, fighting neurosis that squelches freedom and quenches creativity. The Devil of fundamentalism scowls and frowns and complains and opposes and bickers and moans and maneuvers and manipulates and schemes and plots but seems incapable of achieving the freedom to enjoy a hearty laugh. Revealed religion, we bear in mind, calls for creativity as well as conservation" (quoted in The Christian Century).
Fundamentalism claims that every word of scripture is inerrant and comes from God. In my view, this approach to the Bible raises its words to the role of divinity themselves. I believe that scripture springs from humanity's struggle to search for God and the expression of an understanding of God. To speak of the Bible as the inerrant Word of God is nothing else than idolatry--an idolatry of the Bible, in which the words of scripture take the place of God.
Our denomination (the United Church of Christ) has put on an entire evangelism campaign based on the slogan "God is still speaking." To make this claim means that God's words are more than just what scripture records. It means that God did not stop speaking sometime in the century after Jesus' crucifixion, but continues to seek us out now, just as the Spirit of God's voice sought out the biblical authors in ancient times. Sometimes we get it wrong today, and sometimes they got it wrong back then, too. Our God is a living God; to limit the message of God to words written down by ancient writers turns God into a dead deity, speaking words conditioned by a culture that no longer makes sense to most of us.
It is no news that fundamentalism leads to intolerance, extremism, hatred, fear, and even war. For me, there is simply no way of reconciling this way of reading scripture with the message of the God we find in Jesus Christ who reminded us to love our neighbors as ourselves.
-Pastor Chris
I never really explained what I think is the biggest threat to Christianity: fundamentalism. One former Southern Baptist had this to say: "The inclination to conserve the creativities of the past can become such a compelling obsession that nothing new can ever pop into our heads. One of the tragedies of fundamentalism, religious or political or social, is that it is a joyless, argumentative, dogmatic, quarrelsome, fighting neurosis that squelches freedom and quenches creativity. The Devil of fundamentalism scowls and frowns and complains and opposes and bickers and moans and maneuvers and manipulates and schemes and plots but seems incapable of achieving the freedom to enjoy a hearty laugh. Revealed religion, we bear in mind, calls for creativity as well as conservation" (quoted in The Christian Century).
Fundamentalism claims that every word of scripture is inerrant and comes from God. In my view, this approach to the Bible raises its words to the role of divinity themselves. I believe that scripture springs from humanity's struggle to search for God and the expression of an understanding of God. To speak of the Bible as the inerrant Word of God is nothing else than idolatry--an idolatry of the Bible, in which the words of scripture take the place of God.
Our denomination (the United Church of Christ) has put on an entire evangelism campaign based on the slogan "God is still speaking." To make this claim means that God's words are more than just what scripture records. It means that God did not stop speaking sometime in the century after Jesus' crucifixion, but continues to seek us out now, just as the Spirit of God's voice sought out the biblical authors in ancient times. Sometimes we get it wrong today, and sometimes they got it wrong back then, too. Our God is a living God; to limit the message of God to words written down by ancient writers turns God into a dead deity, speaking words conditioned by a culture that no longer makes sense to most of us.
It is no news that fundamentalism leads to intolerance, extremism, hatred, fear, and even war. For me, there is simply no way of reconciling this way of reading scripture with the message of the God we find in Jesus Christ who reminded us to love our neighbors as ourselves.
-Pastor Chris
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
The Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright
As long as I tried to put off talking about another political news story, on the April 6 radio show I discussed the Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright, former pastor of my denomination's largest congregation--Trinity United Church of Christ.
Here are some random thoughts I e-mailed to a friend after the Rev. Dr. Wright's comments hit the airwaves:
"The fact that single lines are taken out of context
and run on air over and over again is, of course,
terrible. But I was more disappointed with the public's
response--why can't we Americans accept the
possibility that the rest of the world may have
legitimate reasons to dislike us? Why do so many of
us insist on the fantasy that America does no wrong?
It's unfortunate that the debate in the media has been
over Senator Obama's acceptance/rejection of Wright, and not
over the accuracy of Wright's comments.
"One more rant--too many Christians think the point of
religion is ONLY to comfort, and that's simply not
borne out by scripture. If God is a God of love, then
God is also a God of justice (which is merely love
applied in a societal context), which means that those
who sincerely try to speak God's message will
necessarily have to confront those in power, at one
time or another. The prophets of the Hebrew
Scriptures (Old Testament) were full of challenge to
society and those in power when they spoke on behalf
of the God of love, and Jesus didn't exactly avoid
ticking people off either..."
So, there you have it. That's all I have to say on the subject. For more information on the denomination's response, you can visit the website of the United Church of Christ at http://www.ucc.org/news/responding-to-wright.html
The news section also contains many other related stories.
Lamenting that this political campaign season is way too long,
Pastor Chris
Here are some random thoughts I e-mailed to a friend after the Rev. Dr. Wright's comments hit the airwaves:
"The fact that single lines are taken out of context
and run on air over and over again is, of course,
terrible. But I was more disappointed with the public's
response--why can't we Americans accept the
possibility that the rest of the world may have
legitimate reasons to dislike us? Why do so many of
us insist on the fantasy that America does no wrong?
It's unfortunate that the debate in the media has been
over Senator Obama's acceptance/rejection of Wright, and not
over the accuracy of Wright's comments.
"One more rant--too many Christians think the point of
religion is ONLY to comfort, and that's simply not
borne out by scripture. If God is a God of love, then
God is also a God of justice (which is merely love
applied in a societal context), which means that those
who sincerely try to speak God's message will
necessarily have to confront those in power, at one
time or another. The prophets of the Hebrew
Scriptures (Old Testament) were full of challenge to
society and those in power when they spoke on behalf
of the God of love, and Jesus didn't exactly avoid
ticking people off either..."
So, there you have it. That's all I have to say on the subject. For more information on the denomination's response, you can visit the website of the United Church of Christ at http://www.ucc.org/news/responding-to-wright.html
The news section also contains many other related stories.
Lamenting that this political campaign season is way too long,
Pastor Chris
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