On Sunday at church, I preached about one of our core values, "We are people of God's extravagant welcome" and then invited response from the conversation.
One of the questions that was asked was regarding how we assimilate the idea of extravagant welcome with passages in the Bible that appear to exclude certain people or behaviors, in this instance specifically homosexuality.
I responded with the notion that every time we approach scripture we make a choice of how we will interpret it and that we, or I, choose to interpret it in a certain way. On reflection, I realized that, while true, it was about 30% of an answer. And I want to get it up to a good 80-85% here.
Yes, every time we engage scripture we do so through a particular lens or a system of interpretation called a hermeneutic. I know, big word. But it's a very useful word. The Bible is so vast and deep and varied and, dare I say, messy at times that one may find it useful to have a guiding principle when approaching it. That guiding principle is a "hermeneutic."
"Well," one may respond, "I believe the Bible says what it means and means what it says. I just take it at face value." And that is a good way to start reading these sacred scriptures. However, it has been my experience that as I spend more and more time in scripture, which I love to do, I find parts that seem to contradict other parts. I encounter a God that commanded that an entire nation be killed, not because they did anything wrong, but because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time (Joshua 6). Elsewhere, I encounter a God that loved humanity so much, that this God took the form of a human just to be with us and reveal his love and grace to us in a way we could understand. As a result, I must choose how to read a passage of scripture; I must make a hermeneutical choice.
I could choose to read the Bible as one long story from beginning to end, written, without error, by the hands of men controlled exactly and precisely by God. That choice would require me to come up with some pretty creative explanations of parts of the Bible that seem to be in contradiction to one another.
That was a choice that I grew uncomfortable with.
The story I tell about God, based on my understanding from scripture, my observation of how God has worked in history, and my experience of God in my own life, is that God is a God of unfathomable, super-human, love, grace, and acceptance. That understanding of God in scripture eclipses other understandings, in my most humble opinion. So, I choose to read scripture with the hermeneutic of love. Every passage I read, I read through the glasses of a God of radical, extravagant welcome and acceptance. And guess what...that choice requires that I come up with some pretty creative explanations of parts of the Bible that seem to be in contradiction to my understanding of God, but no more or less creative than other hermeneutics.
So, briefly, with every intention of filling these out in greater detail at another time: When I read the story of Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 19), I don't see God angry at a people because of homosexuality, but because of, among other things, being inhospitable. When I read laws supposedly given by God against homosexuality (Leviticus 20:13), I see a necessary rule for a particular time and place to ensure the fruitfulness of a particular tribe, not an all-time and forever rule. When I read Paul's inclusion of homosexuality in a list of sins seen as symptoms of a people who do hot acknowledge God (Romans 1), I assume that Paul is speaking of the only homosexuality he knew at the time, prostitution and slavery, not same-sex couples that choose to form loving, sexual relationships.
Do these require some creative interpretations? Yes, as a matter of fact, they do. Are there other ways that these, and all scriptures, can be read? Most certainly. However, my life and ministry is based on a particular hermeneutical choice, a hermeneutic of love.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
My Spiritual Choice
I read an article this morning that really nudged me over the edge. There are a myriad of spiritualities one could live. Even within Christianity, there are several doctrinal stories in which one could engage. Most of them, when followed authentically, are benign and there are more than one that could lead to a rich, transformative, productive life with God. Most of us "good Christians," in my opinion, would do better to pick one and live it than to argue about them.
Here is the one I am choosing: love God with all your heart, and your neighbor as yourself (Luke 10:27). As Paul Allen, the author of the article states, "there is no mention of balance, just pure devotion." What if Jesus' statement that if we seek first the Kingdom of God, everything else will be added, is a true statement about spiritual life? It seems so simple. What if I focused on loving God and loving those around me: my family, my patients, my parishioners, my co-workers, my friends.
This is what I am choosing. I am not saying it is he only doctrinal story one could live or even the best. However, I feel it is the best for me.
God, I am giving it over to you. I want my heart to be transformed. In loving you, I want to be transformed into a lover of my neighbors. I can't wait to see how you will shape me.
Here is the one I am choosing: love God with all your heart, and your neighbor as yourself (Luke 10:27). As Paul Allen, the author of the article states, "there is no mention of balance, just pure devotion." What if Jesus' statement that if we seek first the Kingdom of God, everything else will be added, is a true statement about spiritual life? It seems so simple. What if I focused on loving God and loving those around me: my family, my patients, my parishioners, my co-workers, my friends.
This is what I am choosing. I am not saying it is he only doctrinal story one could live or even the best. However, I feel it is the best for me.
God, I am giving it over to you. I want my heart to be transformed. In loving you, I want to be transformed into a lover of my neighbors. I can't wait to see how you will shape me.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
What we Hear
Today I was listening to Fresh Air on National Public Radio. Terry Gross was interviewing a poet named Natasha Tretheway. She won the 2007 Pulitzer Prize for poetry for her book Native Guard. Good stuff. Her latest book is Beyond Katrina: A Mediation on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, a book of poetry and prose.
The part of the interview that I heard included the poet speaking about her grandmother's faith and her funeral.
GROSS: You describe yourself as not a religious person. But do you ever wish that you could have religion like your grandmother did and therefore, find some kind of holy meaning in the most horrible things that have happened?
Prof. TRETHEWEY: I think, you know, she had such a faith and I understood it as a great comfort to her. And there are times that I think that I wish I had such a comfort.I remember when she was being remembered at her service, the preacher looking directly at me and saying, grieve not as others grieve. He was sermonizing about how the faithful don't have the same kind of grief, because they know that there is something else. And so I felt indicted as he looked at me and said "grieve not as others grieve," as if he was pointing to me and saying, I know that you are not the faithful and because of that you have a different kind of grief, the wrong kind.
GROSS: And were you changed by that at all?
Prof. TRETHEWEY: Oh, I was angry.
GROSS: Angry at him for making you feel that way when you were grieving.
Prof. TRETHEWEY: Yes. I...
GROSS: As if there were a wrong kind of grief.
Prof. TRETHEWEY: I think I wanted remembrance of her and I wanted comfort. I mean, I think funeral services are for the living in some ways. They are to remember the dead, but in the face of the living, beloved. And so I didn't feel comforted.
I was so sad listening to this. I wasn't there, but it seems to me from her telling that it is possible this minister was offering to her comfort and hope when he said "grieve not as others grieve." However, she certainly didn't take it as such. She took it as judgment, an indictment.
It seems that for some any word from a religious leader is a word of judgment. And it is true that up to and including now, most of the words of religion have been judgmental.
These are the questions I am pondering:
Why are religious voices always heard as judgmental (and I am specifically using "religious" and not "spiritual" here) even when they may not be? Is it only because of our horrible history? Or, is there something going on inside a person that makes them feel indicted by God?
How can we change our religious language so that those around us understand and experience that "God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world..." (John 3:17 NLT)?
I would love to hear your thoughts!
The part of the interview that I heard included the poet speaking about her grandmother's faith and her funeral.
GROSS: You describe yourself as not a religious person. But do you ever wish that you could have religion like your grandmother did and therefore, find some kind of holy meaning in the most horrible things that have happened?
Prof. TRETHEWEY: I think, you know, she had such a faith and I understood it as a great comfort to her. And there are times that I think that I wish I had such a comfort.I remember when she was being remembered at her service, the preacher looking directly at me and saying, grieve not as others grieve. He was sermonizing about how the faithful don't have the same kind of grief, because they know that there is something else. And so I felt indicted as he looked at me and said "grieve not as others grieve," as if he was pointing to me and saying, I know that you are not the faithful and because of that you have a different kind of grief, the wrong kind.
GROSS: And were you changed by that at all?
Prof. TRETHEWEY: Oh, I was angry.
GROSS: Angry at him for making you feel that way when you were grieving.
Prof. TRETHEWEY: Yes. I...
GROSS: As if there were a wrong kind of grief.
Prof. TRETHEWEY: I think I wanted remembrance of her and I wanted comfort. I mean, I think funeral services are for the living in some ways. They are to remember the dead, but in the face of the living, beloved. And so I didn't feel comforted.
I was so sad listening to this. I wasn't there, but it seems to me from her telling that it is possible this minister was offering to her comfort and hope when he said "grieve not as others grieve." However, she certainly didn't take it as such. She took it as judgment, an indictment.
It seems that for some any word from a religious leader is a word of judgment. And it is true that up to and including now, most of the words of religion have been judgmental.
These are the questions I am pondering:
Why are religious voices always heard as judgmental (and I am specifically using "religious" and not "spiritual" here) even when they may not be? Is it only because of our horrible history? Or, is there something going on inside a person that makes them feel indicted by God?
How can we change our religious language so that those around us understand and experience that "God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world..." (John 3:17 NLT)?
I would love to hear your thoughts!
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Convicting Quote
I'm reading a book (among several right now) titled The God Evaders: How Churches and Their Members Frustrate Genuine Religious Experience by Clyde Reid, a staff member of the national setting of the United Church of Christ. I was pointed to the book by a quote from it in Dallas Willard's book, The Divine Conspiracy. God Evaders is old (1966), but it good have been written this morning. Reid quotes a pastor of the time, John Heuss, and it has been ringing in my ears for the past few days:
The ordinary day-by-day life of the average successful [there were still a few successful ones back then] local parish makes a mockery out of it's world-influencing revolutionary claims.
It is customary for all of us to lay the blame for the public indifference to religion at the door of the secularism and materialism of our age. It is my personal opinion that neither of these does as much harm as does the constant parade of trivialities which the typical church program offers to the public. This program is only rarely related to the real issues which are clawing the soul of modern man to shreds. This program speaks with no commanding voice to the multitudes perishing for lack of certainty. This program gives the distinct impression that it is concerned exclusively with its own preservation.
What most parishes are habitually doing is so prosaic and so little related to anything except their own hand-to-mouth existence that the public cannot imagine in what way they can possibly influence the great affairs of the world. What the local church has become makes it impossible for the average American to take its life-shaking Gospel seriously. Its day-to-day triviality is its own worst enemy.
The ordinary day-by-day life of the average successful [there were still a few successful ones back then] local parish makes a mockery out of it's world-influencing revolutionary claims.
It is customary for all of us to lay the blame for the public indifference to religion at the door of the secularism and materialism of our age. It is my personal opinion that neither of these does as much harm as does the constant parade of trivialities which the typical church program offers to the public. This program is only rarely related to the real issues which are clawing the soul of modern man to shreds. This program speaks with no commanding voice to the multitudes perishing for lack of certainty. This program gives the distinct impression that it is concerned exclusively with its own preservation.
What most parishes are habitually doing is so prosaic and so little related to anything except their own hand-to-mouth existence that the public cannot imagine in what way they can possibly influence the great affairs of the world. What the local church has become makes it impossible for the average American to take its life-shaking Gospel seriously. Its day-to-day triviality is its own worst enemy.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Great Sunday
In a quiet, but miraculous way, we noticed God moving at church this Sunday. God, in God's incredible grace, gave us, I believe, and I know gave me a glimpse of what could happen in our church. Our worship Sunday was good. Then some of us gathered to talk about worship, what worship is, how worship is meaningful to us. It was a wonderful conversation that really gave us something to work with as we move forward in our worship planning. And then Sunday night, we rocked. In an almost surreal scene, a rock band, and a pretty good one at that, Southbound Fearing, from Toledo, Ohio, treated the 20 or 30 of us gathered to an ear-splitting, bass-feeling concert.
The days activities nudged us just enough outside the norm to be able to imagine something different. And it was good.
The days activities nudged us just enough outside the norm to be able to imagine something different. And it was good.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Agressive and Palliative Spiritual Care
Someone gave me a quote today-- quote by one of my favorite spiritual writers, Henri Nouwen:
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. the friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is the friend who cares.
It's a great description of what I do with my hospice patients in my role as an interfaith chaplain. I meet them where they are, discerning what is spiritually important to them, providing comfort and assurance.
Medically, hospice is about palliative care. It is about keeping a patient comfortable. No agressive or curative treatment is pursued.
Spiritually, palliative care is often called for: comfort, assurance. End-of-life is such a time, I believe, unless of course, a patient demonstrates a need for something else: reconciliation with God, reconciliation with others. But what about in my role as pastor? When is it appropriate to engage in curative spiritual care? When do I need to risk a little bit of pain, possibly on the part of one who I am caring for, and definitely on my part, to help someone over a hump, or to mirror what I see as a detrimental issue in their life?
I imagine it would have to be if they themselves request me to take such a position. Or, as a prophetic voice, which, generally, is not comfortable for me, there may be times when I should take the initiative.
Finley Peter Dunne is credited with originating the saying "Comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable." He was referring to the role of the newspaper. It has since been applied to the role of spiritual leaders and the church. It requires great discernment. I can think of times when both have been used where the other may have been appropriate.
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. the friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is the friend who cares.
It's a great description of what I do with my hospice patients in my role as an interfaith chaplain. I meet them where they are, discerning what is spiritually important to them, providing comfort and assurance.
Medically, hospice is about palliative care. It is about keeping a patient comfortable. No agressive or curative treatment is pursued.
Spiritually, palliative care is often called for: comfort, assurance. End-of-life is such a time, I believe, unless of course, a patient demonstrates a need for something else: reconciliation with God, reconciliation with others. But what about in my role as pastor? When is it appropriate to engage in curative spiritual care? When do I need to risk a little bit of pain, possibly on the part of one who I am caring for, and definitely on my part, to help someone over a hump, or to mirror what I see as a detrimental issue in their life?
I imagine it would have to be if they themselves request me to take such a position. Or, as a prophetic voice, which, generally, is not comfortable for me, there may be times when I should take the initiative.
Finley Peter Dunne is credited with originating the saying "Comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable." He was referring to the role of the newspaper. It has since been applied to the role of spiritual leaders and the church. It requires great discernment. I can think of times when both have been used where the other may have been appropriate.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
The Freedom of Servanthood
A few weeks ago, on July 4th actually, I preached on the idea of servanthood. It wasn't one of my best sermons. It's hard to preach on something that sounds so crazy. It's like standing up and saying that green is orange or that left is right. However, since that week the sermon, at least, has been working on me. The idea is haunting me, that it is in service, in servanthood that we can find freedom.
For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. Galatians 5:13 (NRSV)
If I am serving another, then I am free of the concern about what that one thinks of me. If I am serving another in love, then I am free of what the consequences are, how that service, how that love is reacted to. I don't have to impress anyone. I don't have to be anything I am not. I just have to serve.
This is what we are called to as disciples of Jesus. This is what we are called to as the church. But it seems that it is the antithesis of who we are as the church. We don't serve, we judge. We protect our belief systems and our institutions. It is very apparent in the Roman Catholic church maybe because they have been around for so long and have so much power or perceived power at least. The Vatican's recent comments reveal an institution more interested in protecting its tradition and doctrine than dealing forthrightly with a serious problem, the victimization of children by the ones children should be able to trust the most, their religious leaders. However, us younger denominations and groups are just as guilty.
I want to serve. I want to lead a movement of servants.
For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. Galatians 5:13 (NRSV)
If I am serving another, then I am free of the concern about what that one thinks of me. If I am serving another in love, then I am free of what the consequences are, how that service, how that love is reacted to. I don't have to impress anyone. I don't have to be anything I am not. I just have to serve.
This is what we are called to as disciples of Jesus. This is what we are called to as the church. But it seems that it is the antithesis of who we are as the church. We don't serve, we judge. We protect our belief systems and our institutions. It is very apparent in the Roman Catholic church maybe because they have been around for so long and have so much power or perceived power at least. The Vatican's recent comments reveal an institution more interested in protecting its tradition and doctrine than dealing forthrightly with a serious problem, the victimization of children by the ones children should be able to trust the most, their religious leaders. However, us younger denominations and groups are just as guilty.
I want to serve. I want to lead a movement of servants.
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