Last Sunday, a mother came up to me and told me that she and her daughter had been discussing the morning's sermon. I had preached on "We Belong to Jesus" and had mentioned that when we surrender to Christ, when we see ourselves as belonging to Christ, then we don't have to worry about things like others' opinions of ourselves or whether we have enough money at the end of the month.
Well, this sharp young woman's bullshit detector went off and she said to herself, "Wait a minute, that is not true. It doesn't match what I have experienced." And of course, it doesn't. She knows all sorts of good, church-going Christians that still have to worry about their mortgage.
And I found myself once again at the precipice of the huge chasm that divides religious talk and sermons and church stuff from an authentic relationship with Christ. A life surrendered to Christ, a life given to something more than just making it, does indeed lead us into an entirely different realm where the concerns of this life don't go away but become no more burdensome than gnats that we have to shew away from our face. However, I'm afraid that, at least as far as typical American church life goes, we can't get there from here. The systems we have not only don't lead people into this authentic relationship with God, in many ways they actively oppose it.
As I enter ordained ministry, I want my ministry to be about facilitating the wonderful transformation and freedom that can take place in individual lives and in society as one makes the decision to simply follow Jesus.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
The Spirituality of Questions
Last Sunday afternoon was my Ecclesiastical Council for my ordination. In the United Church of Christ, it is not just the local church that ordains a woman or man for ministry, it is also a function of the wider church, since one is ordained as a minister of the entire United Church of Christ.
What this looked like for me is that 40 or so people, mostly from my church, but including people from other churches in the area, gathered to discern whether I had been called into vocational ministry. I shared briefly my spiritual journey, and my theological and ecclesiological understandings as they stand at this point in my life. And then the magic happened.
After my opening address, anyone gathered was welcome to ask me questions. And ask they did. "What is heaven and hell?" "What does it mean to be saved?" "Why does God allow evil?" "Will we ever evolve beyond our need for God?" And I didn't get the feeling at all that people were trying to trick me or even test me. It felt like those gathered were revealing the deep questions of their hearts.
In the coming days I may share my responses to some of these questions. For now, I want to honor the questions themselves. I left that afternoon convinced that we as the church need to be creating space for people to be safe in asking questions. For so long, the church has been the dispenser of the "truth" and we would all come on Sundays and get our cup filled. And because we weren't allowed or were too polite or were afraid about what would happen if we started messing with the cards in the house of cards. Our choices were to agree and fall in line or disagree, keep our mouths shut, and leave or stay and pretend.
We need to question. We need to knead and squeeze our understanding of our truth so we can get it into a form that makes it efficacious for our lives.
What this looked like for me is that 40 or so people, mostly from my church, but including people from other churches in the area, gathered to discern whether I had been called into vocational ministry. I shared briefly my spiritual journey, and my theological and ecclesiological understandings as they stand at this point in my life. And then the magic happened.
After my opening address, anyone gathered was welcome to ask me questions. And ask they did. "What is heaven and hell?" "What does it mean to be saved?" "Why does God allow evil?" "Will we ever evolve beyond our need for God?" And I didn't get the feeling at all that people were trying to trick me or even test me. It felt like those gathered were revealing the deep questions of their hearts.
In the coming days I may share my responses to some of these questions. For now, I want to honor the questions themselves. I left that afternoon convinced that we as the church need to be creating space for people to be safe in asking questions. For so long, the church has been the dispenser of the "truth" and we would all come on Sundays and get our cup filled. And because we weren't allowed or were too polite or were afraid about what would happen if we started messing with the cards in the house of cards. Our choices were to agree and fall in line or disagree, keep our mouths shut, and leave or stay and pretend.
We need to question. We need to knead and squeeze our understanding of our truth so we can get it into a form that makes it efficacious for our lives.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
A Hermeneutic of Love
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.
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.
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.
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