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Rector, Matthias Episcopal Church, Waukesha, WI
President, Episcopal Diocesan Ecumenical and Interreligious Officers (EDEIO)
President, Standing Committee of the Episcopal Diocese of Milwaukee
Oblate, Order of Julian of Norwich
I am an Episcopal Priest, Gaming Geek, Julian, Tolkien Nut, and Ecumenist.
I am a priest in the Episcopal Church with special interest in teaching and Christian Apologetics. For the last several years I have been active in advocacy for the homeless.
Specialties: Liturgy, teaching, preaching, technology
So you made it though Thursday, when you remembered my commandments to serve one another through foot washing and the supper I instituted.
You made it through Friday, when you remembered my judgement, crucifixion and burial. You heard another letter like this that assured you that I died not to appease a bloodthirsty God, but to appease humanity's appetite for wrath.
You prepared on Saturday, remembering when I descended into the depths of the place of the dead, broke it's chains and iron bars, freeing those who had been held captive and claiming all of it in my name.
Now it's Easter Morning — a day for bunnies and chocolate. There's really nothing wrong with that. Celebration of new life is all well and good. You were created to celebrate the goodness of creation. But I wonder. Do you get it? I mean yes, Spring and flowers and grass and peeps and all. But do you get what I did?
The Resurrection is hard for people. Its not something you have experience of in your lives. It goes against your objective sense of reality. There are those that claim that I was not resurrected at all — that my disciples stole my body and made the whole thing up. In the Gospel of Matthew, that's the main concern of the religious authorities of the day. Perhaps you won't take MY word for it. But even if you don't, SOMETHING happened. My disciples, A group of illiterate common folk, mostly fishermen, became energized enough to carry my message throughout all the world. Many of them were tortured and died while doing that. People throughout the Roman Empire heard and believed my Good News of God's love, and believed despite the often high price they paid in a culture that was based in privilege and class and misogyny.
Others more sympathetic to the cause take a route where they talk about my Resurrection as pure myth. While I'm fine with talking about how my life, death and resurrection is the fulfillment of all human yearning and story, as the myth-made-flesh so to speak, my Resurrection actually happened. It may have mythological power, but it is objectively real. No one ever actually claimed to see the Norse God Balder or the Egyptian God Osiris after they were resurrected. I am the myth that became history.
Part of the issue is how you think about what my Resurrection means. So much energy by Christians, especially christians in the West, is spent thinking about the afterlife. Worrying about eternal punishment and reward and about the time when as the Appalachian song says, "You'll fly away." But there's nowhere ultimately to fly to. If you read your Bible, you'll find that what I promise is that heaven is not some faraway place you get to go to after you've exhausted your natural resources on earth. Im not a navigator on some sort of colonization flight in a sci-fi movie.
Instead, I spent my earthly time of teaching talking about the Kingdom of God, which will take place here. A new heaven and a new earth. A new creation here, out of the old. This is why what you do matters. This is why how you treat each other and the creation right now is of utmost importance. Carl Sagan once told you beautifully that you are all made of star stuff. The new heavens and the new earth will be made out of your stuff. The Kingdom of God is not a place far away in a far future. It is NOW. And this is why my Resurrection matters.
Had I simply died, my mission would have died with me. I wasn't the first person who was proclaimed as the messiah. I wasn't the first or the last person whom the Romans crucified to attempt to hold onto their power. If it had ended there, I would have been one of hundreds of thousands of nameless victims of their huge capacity for cruelty. Every human institution failed me.
The government failed me, giving me the bureaucratic shuffle until a weak leader offered me to appease the crowds. Organized religion failed me, being filled with men who turned to the state to enforce their beliefs violently. The people failed me, turning cruel and angry and demanding my blood. Even my closest friends abandoned me, leaving me to face my death alone. (Thank you to Michael Gerson for this idea — http://wapo.st/2pza1W2)
No, had the story ended there, it would not have been unique in any way. In fact, its not so different from your time. In fact, I'd be very surprised if you didn't find part of your story in mine.
And therein lies the beauty of Easter. My Resurrection is part of YOUR story. It wasn't a mike drop on my part, signaling that I was done and walking off the world stage. It was the opening scene of the second act, where God and Humanity work together to bring forth the Kingdom of God.
Beloved, I know how hard it is to be human. That's kind of the point of why I came to earth. I really get it — intimately. I still bear the marks of the world's cruelty. Government and religion and people and family will fail you like they did me. None of those institutions have the power to ultimately save you. But that's not where my story ended. And that's not where yours ends either.
My story ends in Hope, and so does yours. My resurrection was the beginning of a new creation, and your life is lived within that new creation, even though it is sometimes hard to see. As a follower of mine once said, "The Arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards Justice." (Martin Luther King, Jr. quoting Theodore Parker)
I am arisen, and I beckon you to help build my kingdom of perfect justice and love. When in my name you are kind to the stranger and the homeless and the poor, when you do justice and love mercy, you are a co-worker in building my kingdom. When you comfort the afflicted, sick and dying, you are building my kingdom. When you overcome hate and fear and work for unity and love, you are building my kingdom.
Do not live in despair, but live in hope. A hope that is not based in any human institution, but in my life, death and resurrection. In the belief that God loves you so much that I came to earth not primarily to judge you, but to give you eternal life that begins with a new creation NOW.
Yours Truly,
Jesus Christ, A True Lover of your Soul
My Resurrection is Part of Your Story was originally published in Preaching from the Rood Screen on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
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I was listening to the stations of the cross you were celebrating today in my honor, and I heard an interesting prayer:
"Teach your Church, O Lord, to mourn the sins of which it is guilty, and to repent and forsake them; that, by your pardoning grace, the results of our iniquities may not be visited upon our children and our children's children; through Jesus Christ our Lord."
I'm glad you're praying to me, and I'm glad you're thinking of the future, but I'm concerned how you might take this prayer. You could imply from it that my father is into punishing you for the things you do wrong. You might even be tempted to think that he's into punishing your children and your grandchildren for what you've done. While there are plenty of bad fathers in the world, please rest assured that my father is not one of those. My father loved you all into existence and called you very good. He knows your limitations. In regards to those things you have done and have left undone, he looks at you with pity and not with blame. He cannot really forgive you, because he never blamed you, or hated you, or wished harm to you and never will.
The prayer could also be read in a very good way, in that by asking that your iniquities not be visited upon your descendants, that you are finally admitting that it is not the will of God, but your own actions that are causing lasting harm in the world. You pollute the creation and the world is threatened by climate change and people die of cancer. You hoard your wealth beyond the wildest projection of your possible need, and wonder why the suffering poor are angry. You believe that you can achieve peace by just one more decisive use of violence, although that has never worked in your entire history. You are experts at ignoring the long-term consequences of your decisions, so that your own wrath is visited upon your children and your children's children.
Folks, I didn't come to earth and become one of you to appease my father's wrath. I came to save you from your own. I came to instill my divinity into humanity so that humanity might become humane. When my suffering was over on the cross, I did not turn to my father and ask if he was pleased. I cried, "It is accomplished!" I turned to humanity, and I turn to each one of you and ask, "Is it enough? Are you satisfied? Have I proven to you once and for all that God does not desire your death or that of any of you? Looking upon the soldiers gambling over my belongings, can you continue to disregard the needs of the poor? Looking upon the tortured ruin of my body, can you continue to torture each other? God himself has died there at your hands. Having crucified God, can you continue to crucify each other in your daily lives? Can you continue to kill and to hate?"
Beloved, God is love, and I am God. Humanity crucified love. That is not the end of the story. On Sunday, you'll see. All shall be well. But for now, it is right for you to gaze upon my body on the cross, and for you to remember that it was not God that put me there, nor just one group that you can point the finger at, but the wrath of all of humanity. And should it be nothing to you as you pass by, it is not God's wrath that shall be visited upon your children and your children's children, but the wrath you hold so dear in your hearts. I came to save you. It is accomplished. All that remains is for you to accept the freedom I have purchased for you.
Yours Truly,
Jesus Christ, a true lover of your soul
I Came to Make Humanity Humane was originally published in Preaching from the Rood Screen on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
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"Do you know what I have done to you?" That's what I asked the disciples after I had washed their feet. They were all confused and upset. Peter was almost trembling with anger. And why not? The disciples thought of me as either a Rabbi or the prophesied military leader and king throw the Roman armies out. Rabbis and Kings don't wash feet. This was the position of a slave. I know for many of you, the idea of having your feet washed is intimate and possibly embarrassing due to how your culture thinks about feet. It was embarrassing while I was on earth, but for another reason — it was something done routinely by people who were considered property and sub-human. "Do you know what I have done to you" I asked them. They looked at me blankly. They thought they knew the full extent of what I had done. They thought I had embarrassed them yet again by not living up to expected norms of behavior as a religious leader.
And they were right. The thing is, power and prestige, respectability and reputation are all human constructs — No more important in the cosmic scheme of things than the flight of a mosquito to a hurricane. Humanity plays its games of power, pretending like those games have cosmic significance, when the monuments of even your greatest heroes will crumble to dust in just a fraction of the time it took us to bring the Earth from a coalescing ball of gas to a life-sustaining planet. The discomfort of the disciples was a teachable moment. I went on to teach them a divine truth — that in the Kingdom of God, servants and masters are terms with no meaning.
But what about you? Do you know what I have done to you?" Do you understand how much i've messed with humanity's business as usual? Your social groupings from governments to businesses to families all rely on differing levels of power. If you actually took to heart my message at the footwashing that all must serve all; If you internalized the message of the Holy Eucharist that everyone, whether king or pauper gets the same bread and wine which is my body and blood; your unjust structures would crumble. For all of you, that's a frightening concept.
Throughout history, those who love God have pointed out what I have done to you. Gandhi read my sermon on the mount in a way Christians never had before, and authored his method of non-violent resistance. Martin Luther King Jr. read Gandhi and brought his method to bear on American civil rights. Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu studied King's works to end apartheid. When people take what I have done seriously, Justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream. When people take what I have done seriously, hearts are changed and injustice becomes intolerable. In just 1500 years, the ancient, universal human institution of slavery went from being normative to being reprehensible. 2000 years after I died on the cross as an innocent person condemned as a criminal, no serious discussion of capital punishment occurs without my memory being invoked. As Martin Luther King once said, "The Arc of the Moral Universe is Long, but it bends towards justice." It began to bend when I washed the feet of my disciples.
Do you know what I am doing to you? Do you know what you are about to do? You are about to participate in my commandments. That's where the word "Maundy" comes from. From the Latin "Mandatum" or "Commandment." Be careful. These rites of footwashing and Holy Communion turn human expectations on their heads. They point out the folly of obsessions with power, wealth and security. If the true meaning of these rites make it through your shell of protection, they might alter you forever. You might find yourself transformed. You might be less fearful and protective. You might live more in the moment and in the joy of the abundant life you were created for.
Most of you don't make major decisions that affect huge numbers of people. But the aggregate action of people of good will working together is how the arc of history is bent towards justice. As my servant Joan Chittister once said, "We are each called to go through life, reclaiming the planet an inch at a time until the Garden of Eden grows green again." These rites on Maundy Thursday have that power, so beware. If you ask me for new life, for eternal life, for the water that will never leave you thirsty, I will give it to you. But you will not leave unchanged.
Do you know what I have done to you?
Yours Truly,
Jesus Christ, a true lover of your soul
Do You Know What I Have Done To You? was originally published in Preaching from the Rood Screen on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
"Certainty is not a Christian value, trust is. Trust that God loves us so much that he will indeed mend his relationship with us DESPITE the fact that we have fallen short in the past, are falling short now, and will fall short again in the future. Christian hope is found in a messy, sometimes enigmatic relationship with Jesus rather than a checklist of obligations and rewards."
The Sin of Certitude — A Sermon for Lent 2A was originally published in Preaching from the Rood Screen on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
Taking the Bible Seriously, not Literally, by using Algebra
The below is something I wrote a few years ago on a now-defunct blog. A friend had asked me about how I would go about thinking about Ephesians 5:22. In process, I lay out my general thoughts on Biblical interpretation.
Eph. 5:22 For example, wives should submit to their husbands as if to the Lord. (CEB)
How you interpret this passage has a lot to do with how you read scripture. The "Common-sense" approach is the default American method of scriptural interpretation. As Mark Knoll writes in The Civil War as a Theological Crisis:
By 1860 a substantial majority of articulate Americans had come to hold a number of corollary beliefs about the Bible-specifically, that besides its religious uses, it also promoted republican political theory, that it was accessible to every sentient person, that it defined the glories of liberty, that it opposed the tyranny of inherited religious authority, that it forecast the providential destiny of the United States, and that it was best interpreted by the common sense of ordinary people. loc 308 #knoll
That last sentence is the part that can be especially problematic in the context we are exploring. While scripture usually has a "plain sense," it's a plain sense in the culture of the time in which it is written. For instance, in the context of the theological arguments around the Civil War, "Plain Sense" readings of scripture heavily supported the institution of slavery. The entrenched nature of the "peculiar institution" as well as a near universal belief in white superiority (even among abolitionists) made the anti-slavery argument difficult. To quote Knoll again:
(the) nuanced biblical attacks on American slavery faced rough going precisely because they were nuanced. This position could not simply be read out of any one biblical text; it could not be lifted directly from the page. Rather, it needed patient reflection on the entirety of the Scriptures; it required expert knowledge of the historical circumstances of ancient Near Eastern and Roman slave systems as well as of the actually existing conditions in the slave states; and it demanded that sophisticated interpretative practice replace a commonsensically literal approach to the sacred text. … In the culture of the United States, as that culture had been constructed by three generations of evangelical Bible believers, the nuanced biblical argument was doomed. loc 647 #knoll
Writers on this subject routinely point out that the Christian anti-slavery argument never got a lot of traction until after armed conflict broke out and people needed to make sense of the vast slaughter. The abolitionist argument made sense if you considered the sweep of the Bible towards mutuality and respect, but it could not overcome the entrenched "common sense" interpretation that supported the status quo, as such interpretations invariably do. Yet yesterday's common sense is today's folly. You would be hard pressed to find a modern biblical literalist who would support the idea that American slaveholding was a Biblically just institution. This is because a "common sense" interpretation has more to do with us and our context than the Scripture and its Sitz im Leben (That's Biblical geek speak for the original cultural/historical setting of the passage).
There are two ways to read Ephesians that do this passage a grave injustice. Both of them involve this "common-sense" reading that ignores literary and historical context. One is the "literalist" interpretation that insists that this passage requires a wife to be subordinate to her husband in all things. Feminist theology has rightly criticized this reading as being a tool of repression. A more basic criticism might be that using it in such a way completely ignores the rest of the chapter (see below), as well as assuming that Paul is writing in a universal sense without examining his Sitz im Leben.
A second way to do injustice to this text by a "Common-Sense" reading is to try to judge what Paul is saying by our vantage point, which has been shaped by postmodernism, marxism and feminism. To be condescending to ancient writers because they didn't have the same default point of view that we as postmodern Americans have is just as destructive as a literalist position and would result in the loss of much of the world's collected wisdom were it universally applied.
To do justice to Paul, we need to ask the questions of context:
Only after answering these questions can we begin to ask interpretive questions for ourselves. If Paul was saying this to his culture, what might he say if he was writing within ours? Scriptural interpretation in this full sense is not of direct application. Let's think of this in pseudo-algebraic terms. X would be the application of Galatians for us today. A is the cultural setting of Paul's time. B is the scripture. C is our cultural setting. A literalist might say that there is no algebra. Scripture is universal and timeless and all you need is a direct correspondence:
Those of us who believe scripture is the Word of God, but are literary works that bear the imprints of culture and personality would say it is more complex. It's more like solving the proportion:
So if we avoid the so-called "common sense" position (although that's really a misnomer. It's not common-sensical to think that Paul's culture and ours are similar.) and use this approach that is more sensitive to context, what can we say about this passage?
Where does Paul get his position that wives should submit? The Epistles are older than the Gospels, but anything that wound up in the Gospels would be circulating as stories and proverbs of Jesus at the time of Paul. It's hard to find anything attributed to Jesus that would support such an assertion. In fact, Jesus seems to be surrounded by "uppity" women, such as the Syro-Phonecian woman, Mary Magdalene and Mary of Bethany who don't seem to know their "proper place" and routinely scandalize the disciples. Did Paul invent all this?
As he would say, "By no means!" There is a long tradition in Greco-Roman and Hellenized Jewish writing (such as Philo and Josephus) of "Household Codes." These codes lay out how a male head of household should manage his affairs. The Roman head of household (Pater Familias) was an absolute ruler within his domain. The Household Codes instruct a young Pater Familias on how to conduct his household in order to preserve honor and avoid shame (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shamesociety) in a culture in which such things were paramount for survival. The failure of a householder to abide by these codes could mean ruin and ostracization from the culture for him and his entire family.
When Paul states that wives are to submit, he's not stating anything new. He's stating anything that any writer of Household codes in his culture, Roman or Jewish, would agree with. Most members of a household in Ephesus hearing the letter read aloud, be they male or female, would have been nodding at this point. But look at what comes later. This is where Paul goes way off track from a standard household code.
Eph. 5:25 As for husbands, love your wives just like Christ loved the church and gave himself for her. (CEB)
Non-Christian Household codes of the time do not speak of the duties of the Pater Familias to his "subordinates" at all. Paul goes on for six more verses exhorting husbands to show the same respect to their wives as Christ does for the church. Think about that. Paul goes to great pains in his letters to show how much Christ sacrificed for his church. It is an absolute, self-sacrificing love, completely incompatible with the self-centered idea of the householder as absolute monarch.
I think Paul is using the household code as a subversive rhetorical device. He uses some throwaway lines, such as 5:22, to lull the hearers into a receptive state, then hits them with something demanding and new (the rest of the chapter) where women are given the same value as the church. Paul is by no means an egalitarian in our terms, but it's unfair to criticize him by those terms. To discard Ephesians because Paul does not articulate perfect egalitarianism would be like discarding the Emancipation Proclamation because Lincoln still retained ideas of white superiority. We are all products of our culture, and I have no doubt that some in the future will judge US with harshness.
However, holding up Paul's writings as scripture does not mean we have to come to it uncritically. Paul's instructions to wives in Ephesians does not support domineering, abusive gender relationships any more than Peter's parallel instructions to slaves (1Peter 2:18) supports modern human trafficking. Paul's culture and assumptions were very different than ours, and our reading of his writings need to reflect that reality. While not a modern egalitarian, Paul's views of both slavery and the place of women was much more progressive than those of contemporary writers. He was a careful but passionate rebel, and he upset the establishment enough that he was eventually executed for it.
It is for this reason that even though some continue to use Ephesians to repress, I think that if we read it with eyes open to context, we can find an example of someone transforming his world bit by bit for Christ. God's plan does not happen in one lifetime, or even in a hundred. This is not a failing of God, but a result of human intransigence. As Jesus said to his disciples, "I have much more to say to you, but you can't handle it now. However, when the Spirit of Truth comes, he will guide you in all truth. He won't speak on his own, but will say whatever he hears and will proclaim to you what is to come." (John 16:12–13 CEB)
Those of us who claim to follow Jesus in the church continue to seek the guidance of the Spirit together as we read our scriptures. God can indeed be found in the Bible. There are those that claim that this should be an easy endeavor, and that the Bible reads like some sort of instruction manual. But many of us believe that the Bible is a complicated work that requires study, work, thought, prayers and discussion in community to begin to understand.
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Other blogs on this topic:
Rachael Held Evans has an excellent post (http://rachelheldevans.com/mutuality-household-codes) on this.
A great sermon (http://kingofpeace.org/sermons2002-2003/sermon-082403.htm) by Frank Logue.
Taking the Bible Seriously, not Literally, by using Algebra was originally published in Preaching from the Rood Screen on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
In the second creation account in Genesis, we are given the reason why we are created — To work and to till the creation. This has implications for how we are to live our lives. A sermon for the Second Sunday of Lent, 2017.
To Work and To Till It was originally published in Preaching from the Rood Screen on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
God's beloved people, Tonight we get a portion of Jesus' "Farewell Discourse" in our Gospel reading. The writer of John is laying out the final teachings of Jesus before the passion narrative begins. We hear:
As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love.
This command, translated "Abide" in the NRSV, means variously "to stay in a place" or "to stand against opposition" or "to hold out," "to stand fast," "to stay still," "to remain," "to endure," "to stay in force." I kind of like the way Eugene Peterson translates this in The Message.
I've loved you the way my Father has loved me. Make yourselves at home in my love.
Jesus could have said a lot of things in this farewell discourse. He could have told us, "Create a Confirmation Curriculum for the high schoolers that somehow allows for irregular attendance and post-modernism" or "Get your bulletins for Lent printed three weeks early" or "Find some way to get Mrs. Ethelmyer back on board with the ECW agenda for next year."
Surprisingly, he doesn't do that. He tells us to abide, to be at home in his love. In choosing this passage as one of the Gospel options for the liturgy of Celebration of New Ministry, the authors of the 1979 BCP were making a statement about the ministry of the ordained. The basis of our ministry is not a particular set of skills, but the root of who we are supposed to be — people who are to model in particular the state of being at home in the Love of God.
Yes, there is much work that can be done. In fact, as ministers of the Gospel, there is an infinite amount of work that can be done. There's always another article or sermon to write, another diocesan committee to serve on, another person to visit, another bulletin to typeset, another program to start, another theological volume to read. But if we are so busy with functional churchy things that we neglect the call to abide in God, all of these things are for nothing. Other civic organizations can educate people, build membership, communicate with their members, and serve others. What sets us apart as a church is that we do these things as we intentionally stand fast in God's love. When we as a church hide ourselves in busy-ness, we are attempting to hide from God.
Our ordained leadership has to be one that is steeped in prayer and reflection as the base of what we do. Because as much as we all believe in the Priesthood of the Believer and the balanced role of laity in our church, the tone of every organization is set by the tone of its leader. If the CEO of a company is anxious and reactive, the company will be anxious and reactive. If Scoutmaster is too intent on getting from point A to point B on a hike, then his or her scouts will not be able to appreciate the beauty of nature as they travel. If a Minister of the Gospel is too focussed on membership and program, then that church will risk turning its operations into a golden calf that pulls attention from the Trinitarian life of God we are called to remain still in.
The Biblical Scholar NT Wright talks about how our passage today has been misused.
'No one', said Jesus, 'has a love greater than this, to lay down your life for your friends' . That is true, gloriously true. Indeed, Jesus was on his way to his own execution as the most dramatic example of the point. The cross is clearly in view here, when Jesus says that laying down your life for your friends is the highest form of love, and then says 'and you, of course, are my friends'. But during the First World War, this text was used again and again, in sermons and lectures, set to music and sung by great choirs, with one single meaning: therefore you, young man — they were mostly young men — must go off to the front line, do what you're told and if necessary die for your country.
Of course, the irony of this was that German preachers were using the same text the same way. If both were right, it would seem that Jesus was just encouraging sacrifice on both sides for it's own sake — that sacrifice itself was the object.
But this is a misuse of this text. Jesus is telling his disciples that HE, JESUS HIMSELF, lays down his life for his friends. While it is true that his disciples endure hardship and some of them become martyrs, they are not DEMANDED by God as a sacrifice. Jesus had already done that. Jesus was crucified on a cross for our sins. WE should be satisfied with that. No one need ever be crucified again for our sakes. The fact that we continue to demand sacrifice from one another to meet our personal or institutional needs is in SPITE of God's gift, not because of it. Martyrs and confessors continue to suffer and die in our world today not because God wills it, but because humanity still clings to its cherished cycle of violence. It is a demand we as sinful humans make, not God.
Sometimes, especially in an American context, we conflate the so-called "Puritan Work Ethic" with this human demand for sacrifice. We try to figure out how "successful" a congregation is by how hard they work. We think that the measure of a congregation or a minister is how much they do. How much of their time and money do their members give? What's your ASA? How many Pledge Units? How many kids in Sunday School? These are the questions on the parochial report the national church uses to measure congregational vitality. All of these questions are useful on one level, but they can't drill down to the real question at the base of ministry: "Does this congregation abide in God's love?" A large church may have thousands of members, millions of dollars, and multiple popular programs, but so does AARP. The true measure of a church is not membership and money, but "how does it allow its members to feel at home in God's love?" All of the other stuff — the growth, the stewardship, the outreach, the work for justice, all flow naturally from this base state of a healthy church that is at home in the love of God.
People of St. Margaret of Scotland, you have called Mo. Carla McCook to be your rector. Those of us in Wisconsin are not happy with this decision, but it's a sound one. Carla is a priest of great depth and intelligence, but she is also a person with a great sense of humor and knows how to play. I'd tell you all about our family's vacation together this summer, but you know what they say, "What happens in Colonial Williamsburg stays in Colonial Williamsburg." She has the ability to lead you into the state of abiding in the love of Jesus. No doubt, she will also be great with program and administration, but that's not what you are really calling her to.
(Call Carla and the Sr. Warden Forward)
I have here the Letter of Transfer for Shane, Shawn, Morgan and Maddi. To be honest, I've had this for several weeks, but just have not had the heart to sign it. I am willing to give this letter to you, but on these conditions from both of you.
(Fran) I want you to promise me on behalf of the congregation that you all will allow and encourage her to abide in God's love. That you will consider prayer and renewal as an integral part of her work week, because if you don't, she won't be able to lead you to Jesus. That you will remember that while she sometimes stands in the person of Christ, she is human, and is going to fail you again and again just like any other human being. That you remember that the rest of the McCook family each has their own identity, and that they each have their own distinct ministry by virtue of their baptisms. If so, answer "I will."
And now you, Carla Hermione Grainger McCook. I charge you here in the presence of God and your bishop, in that order, to take the time to be at home in God's love. That no matter how much work has piled up or how anxious you are about what's going on at the church you will first of all be a person of prayer and reflection. That you will exercise self care. That you, when appropriate, will continue to wear a corset and pirate costume. And that you will remember that your family and friends are part of your vocation as baptized Christian, wife, friend, mother, priest and rector. If so, answer, "I Will."
With these positive affirmations, I am hereby willing to hand this letter over to you, making your family members of St. Margarets with all canonical processes duly observed. (Fa La)
May God bless you all here in your ministries, and may you all abide in God's love forever.
Abide in Me — A Sermon on Ordained Ministry was originally published in Preaching from the Rood Screen on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
The Sermon on the Mount is one of the most important moral discourses in history, but it's always challenging to us. What is Jesus getting at?
The Downer on the Mount was originally published in Preaching from the Rood Screen on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
You know, folks, every time I start a sermon here at St. Matthias, I use the word "beloved" to refer to you. Its something I learned from one of my mentors, Fr. Dick Downing, and it impressed itself on me. You are God's beloved, and you need to be reminded of that all the time. Once a week is actually not enough.
What I've come to realize as I thought about this state of the parish sermon is that while I've made it abundantly clear that you are God's beloved, perhaps I needed to make it abundantly clear that I love you as your pastor as well. My preaching style tends towards the teaching side, and while I talk about my reactions some times, I don't share a lot of personal anecdotes and stories from my own life. I'm not apologizing, This is just my personality, but I want you to know I am aware of it.
I've been here for nine years. I want to take this time to tell you what it means to me to be your pastor.
You and I had a short dating relationship in 2008. When I saw the parish profile, I was strongly interested. My name came to the search committee from several different directions. I was the only one of the candidates who came to visit. And soon, Micky, Brendan, baby Brigid and I were Wisconsinites and Packer fans by default.
For those of you who were here at the time, do you remember what the parish was like? By 2007, the average Sunday attendance had dropped from a high of 224 to 119. The number of pledging families had dropped from 180 down to 68. The culture wars over human sexuality certainly had something to do with that, but the decline actually started precipitously in 2001, even before Gene Robinson was elected bishop of New Hampshire. It probably had more to do with the cultural changes that have meant that less Americans attend church regularly than anything else. Most of the mainline churches in our area show the same decline.
There were entire classrooms that had been full of children in graded Sunday school two decades before that were now unused and gathering dust. There was a tent in the undercroft that was a ghostly reminder of a Children's Church program that no longer existed. There were six committees that hadn't met in years but were still kept on the books. The name change and merger of the mission of St. Phillips into our church had left most of those members hurt and given us a 5PM Saturday Service that didn't have a unique identity.
And, as usual, there was something of a messiah complex. Every church expects a new leader to come in and to change things. I think there were some that thought, "All we need is a new dynamic leader and people will come back." And that tactic used to work when society pressured people to be members of churches and everyone would flock to see the new pastor. But the society no longer has that expectation. People don't come to church anymore to see and be seen. People now come to church entirely for an encounter with Jesus and his beloved community. While some members at that time saw St. Matthias as a large church that was temporarily small, I saw St. Matthias as a small church that needed to find its identity as such and become comfortable with it. I didn't have a five year plan, I didn't have a ten point guide, I simply resolved for us to do as the prophet Micah directed in our reading today, "do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with our God?"
Over the years people have come and gone. We've baptized new members and we've buried our beloved dead. I was looking through our columbarium after Bob Breese's funeral, and those names jumped out at me — Jack, Phil, Betty, Florence, John, Harold, and all the others we see no more but are still with us in the communion of saints. Each one is a unique and beloved note in my heart, and in the heart of our community. We have celebrated our faith with the Body and Blood of Christ over a thousand times since 2008.
And you, beloved, you have been everything to me a pastor could ever ask for. You have been generous to me and my family, from the stocking of our first apartment to the astounding response in bringing meals to us when Micky was an invalid this Spring. You have been a community I have been able to raise my children in where they have felt safe and loved. You have been respectful of my need for time off and generous with my time for diocesan and national church concerns.
But even more than that, while many churches SAY they are ready for change, but only change that leads to a church that looks pretty much like it did two decades ago, you have shown yourself adaptable and open and welcoming. And I don't say this lightly. I was skeptical to begin with — you had to convince me. ALL churches THINK they are open and welcoming. But then the stranger is told to leave someone's accustomed pew, or they stand alone at the end of the service while no one talks to them. That doesn't happen here — there is a natural and genuine friendliness that I observe that attempts to give the newcomer the level of interaction they are comfortable with. They aren't ignored, but they also aren't asked if they would like to serve on the vestry. This really does seem to be in the DNA of the parish — I suspect it has a lot to do with John and Florence Melster of blessed memory.
We are structured completely differently than we were in 2008. We spend $121,000 less than we did in 2007. We have a smaller, more flexible Vestry, around 2 less full-time employees, and a building that is full, all week long, of people working to alleviate homelessness and fight addiction. I could not be more proud of the Books and Cooks program that fights some of the most intractable symptoms of homelessness in a unique way. I have provided leadership in this change, but none of it would have been possible without volunteer leadership, help and most of all, an ability to adapt to change and see new opportunities.
Beloved People of God at St. Matthias Church, you are also my beloved. I love every minute, well, almost every minute of being called to be your priest and pastor. You are a gentle and caring, but also passionate and concerned congregation. You take care of us and of each other in ways that often astound and continue to surprise me. The way you welcome me into your lives at the high and low points is humbling.
We face a lot of uncertainty. We still have a deficit budget, although through your incredibly faithful response to Consecration Sunday this last year we have made huge strides towards closing that gap. We face the same uncertainties that almost all communities of faith face in the way the world is changing and how religion is valued. And the society around us is changing fast. The issues being addressed by elected officials in our nation now are no longer those that are simple differences of political opinion. Some of them are beginning to strike into areas of our fundamental identity as followers of Jesus in America — areas that challenge us due to our baptismal covenant that demands that we seek justice and affirm the worth of every human being as made in the image of God. This has the potential of bringing people of good will inside the church into conflict. I recommit to you what I have always said — my love for you does not hinge on your agreement with me. In fact, a real community centered around Jesus is in some ways like a constant family Thanksgiving dinner. There's always the uncle who is too loud, the aunt that is passive-aggressive, the cousin who you just wish would keep her opinions to herself. Christ makes us one, despite our differences.
I can't tell you what tomorrow holds for us here. I couldn't have told you what we would look like now back in 2008. We will continue to change and adapt as society changes around us. But there are things that will not change. First of all, the center of our community will continue to be Jesus Christ as he is known to us in the breaking of bread, and in the community gathered around us. Second, we will continue to be an open and welcoming community, trying to be as honest about who we are as we possibly can and serving those whom Jesus loves. And third, I will continue to love you. Your passion, your generosity, your openness, your flexibility and your obvious love for me, my family, and each other. I am blessed being here as pastor and priest among you.
2017 State of the Parish Sermon was originally published in Preaching from the Rood Screen on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
"Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near!" That is the message we hear from the Gospel of Matthew today as Jesus prepares to call Simon and Peter as disciples. When we hear that, we likely think repentance has something to do with listing all the things we've done wrong, saying we're sorry, and not doing them again. But that's really too functional a reading of what's going on. The word translated "Repent" is Metanoia in the Greek, which means to turn or to change one's heart. The Hebrew equivalent is Shuv, which has the added dimension of being a continual process of turning. Jesus is not asking people just to be sorry, although that's part of it. He's asking something more — that we change our orientation towards the world. That we see it differently. That we continue to change our hearts.
In Paul's Epistle to the Corinthians, Paul is writing to that congregation in concern. He is concerned about divisions in the church. The Church in Corinth seems to have fallen into bickering between factions that each claim to follow the teachings of a particular leader. Some claim to belong to him, some claim to belong to Apollos, some to Cephas. Others strikingly claim to belong to Christ, which is correct in one way, but I'm guessing the way it's being used is to say snarkily, "Well you may belong to Paul, but unlike you, we belong to Christ." Paul asks incredulously, "Has Christ been divided? Was I crucified for you? Were you baptized in MY name?"
Paul proclaimed Christ to them so that their hearts might be turned away from the innately human pastime of creating divisions. In the highly class and gender stratified culture of the Roman Empire, Christians claimed to be equal to one another in Jesus. It confounded and scandalized people of that time because it challenged the very basis of their society which was founded in clear class distinctions reinforced by extreme violence. And it still confounds us today.
We live in a very divided time. It would be hard to for anyone to dispute that the election cycle we have just gone through has been one of the the most divided times we have known America to be in in our lifetimes. Some are exultant in the results. Some are heartbroken, and in some cases terrified of the results. Some would rather not talk about it, and would probably rather that I wouldn't as well. But that wouldn't be responsible of me. The Gospel has real implications for our real life together as Christians living in a divided America. We are called to the same Gospel of Changing our Hearts that Simon Peter and Andrew were. And we are called to guard against the same divisions that Paul cautioned the Corinthians about.
There was a lot of turmoil in Episcopal Social Media circles this week about the role of the National Cathedral and St. John's in Lafayette Square in the inauguration ceremonies and interfaith prayer service. Some felt that the Episcopal Churches role was what we been done for every president, so this was business as usual. Others felt that this was an extraordinary circumstance and that we needed to respond differently. One of the most active discussions on the internet over the last week have been leaders of various various churches all over the nation as to whether and why we should or should not pray for our new president, particularly by name.
During this discussion, A colleague told a story. It involves Stalin and Russia but that is incidental. It's not the point of the story, and neither the teller nor I are making parallels between soviet Russia and our situation today. The message it holds IS powerful and pertinent for us when talking about how we pray for those in authority.
There was a time in 1990 when my colleague was a student in Moscow. There was a small Orthodox church down the street that he attended occasionally. Every once in awhile he would get into discussions with the priest and at one point they got to talking about the loosening of restrictions on churches that was occurring under Glasnost. The priest mentioned the atrocities of the 1930s that had almost destroyed the church. During that time, some of the priest's family members had been arrested and simply disappeared. His own father, who was also a priest, had been arrested but had been released just after the Second World War started and Stalin reopened the churches in a limited way. Everyone else who was arrested was never heard from again. The priest assumed they had either died in labor camps or in the war as conscripts.
My colleague mentioned the section in Orthodox liturgy where they pray for leaders and those in authority, and how that must have been hard under more repressive communist years. The priest seemed startled and surprised by the question, and said something like "Of course we pray for those in authority, because of their tremendous impact they have on everyone, and that God may enlighten them and change their ways."
THAT RIGHT THERE is the Gospel of Change of Heart that Jesus taught. It's not easy. Indeed, it's very costly. It calls us to sacrifice the preconceived notions and prejudices that we hold dear. We are reminded of the first step of how we as Christians live into that. We pray. Prayer is not a way we remember those we like to God, or a type of magic we use to get something from God that God would not otherwise give. Prayer is a discipline that when done properly holds up our entire lives both as individuals and as a community into the light of day and asks God to help us change it. Effective prayer doesn't just count our blessings, it also counts our curses. It exposes our fears and celebrates our hopes. It is dialogue with God on what kind of world we want this to be and acknowledgement that we need God's help if we are to transcend our human nature to make it that way. It is not just contemplation, but contemplation that leads to action. It is the necessary prerequisite to true, Godly Justice.
The week before the election, I made the promise on social media that no matter what the outcome, we would be praying for our new president-elect in our services. By name in the 8 and 10 Sunday services, because that was our norm, and by implication at the 5 Saturday because we don't routinely use those names in the Evening Prayer form. I know that has not been easy for some. But here's the thing — just like that Orthodox priest, we pray for those in authority because of their impact on everyone. And even more so, we pray that God may continue to turn their hearts just as we pray that God may continue to turn our hearts. Prayer is not supposed to be easy. Prayer is supposed to be honest. It's the base requirement for a Gospel of Repentance.
As Christians, we are not to say, "I belong to Trump" or "I belong to Obama." We all belong to Jesus by virtue of our baptism. But we are also not to brag in that by saying "I belong to Jesus and the rest of you are below me." We are all complicit in the sin of division, and to turn our hearts, we have to confess that. We can't expect our secular country to change if we who follow the Lord of love are not willing to make that change ourselves. It starts with you and I, and we are all Broken Hearted. Broken heartedness is the inevitable outcome of human politics.
Wisconsin writer and social critic Parker Palmer writes of the nature of politics, "It is the ancient and honorable human endeavor of creating a community in which the weak as well as the strong can flourish, love and power can collaborate, and justice and mercy can have their day." But every attempt we have ever made as humans to achieve that has fallen short. On every side, we are all broken hearted because we long for a world of perfect justice, but the very human nature of politics means that we can never fully achieve that which we long for without God's help.
So when we pray for our president, no matter how it makes you feel, remember we are ALL brokenhearted. If you rejoice in this weekend, remember those who are devastated and afraid and pray to be reconciled to them. Pray that both of your hearts may be changed. If this weekend made you question what you believed about American democracy, it is also your task to pray. Remember that work towards reconciliation does not mean acceptance of a status quo and that prayer needs to be the first step in resistance for a Christian.
Palmer warns us, "If American democracy fails, the ultimate cause will not be a foreign invasion or the power of big money or the greed and dishonesty of some elected officials or a military coup or the internal communist/socialist/fascist takeover that keeps some Americans awake at night. It will happen because we — you and I — became so fearful of each other, of our differences and of the future, that we unraveled the civic community on which democracy depends, losing our power to resist all that threatens it and call it back to its highest form."
We are called to the Gospel of turning Hearts, we are called as Christians to witness to our nation the fact that what unites us — the fact the we as humans are made in the image of God — is ultimately greater than what divides us. We are called to disagree. We are called to argue. We are called to take non-violent action according to our conscience. But we are also called to be open with our common broken-heartedness, to see the broken-heartedness in each other, and to treat one another with the compassion that Christ treats us. Because as we repeat in the Lord's Prayer every week, we can only ask to be forgiven to the degree that we are willing to forgive. Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near! May God continue to change all of our hearts.
"Change your Hearts, for the Kingdom of Heaven has come near!" was originally published in Preaching from the Rood Screen on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
I'll be moving over the Medium as soon as all the domain forwarding gets taken care of. Until then, you can get there at https://medium.com/preaching-from-the-rood-screen
The question of whether or not to speak out in politics is a hard one for me as a pastor. On one hand, in American politics the separation of church and state makes publicly endorsing or criticizing specific candidates problematic if not in many cases unethical. My experience is that people of various political persuasions can be devout and effective disciples of Jesus, and that the political process at its best can sometimes even help us work out how our faith is manifested in the world. On the other hand, to say that religion and politics are not intertwined is an obvious untruth. While Jesus did not work for political change per se, the political ramifications of his message of peace and love were radical. One only has to remember that he was executed in a manner that indicated the Roman Empire considered him a threat to its sovereignty. In a normal political climate, the actual difference between party candidates might be small enough for me to feel that remaining silent was an option.
But what do you do with Donald Trump? Roger Cohen wrote in the New York Times this morning:
It's not just that Trump re-tweets to his six million followers a quote attributed to Mussolini: "It is better to live one day as a lion than 100 years as a sheep." It's not just that Trump refuses to condemn David Duke, the former grand wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, who has expressed support for him. It's not just that violence is woven into Trump's language as indelibly as the snarl woven into his features — the talk of shooting somebody or punching a protester in the face, the insulting of the disabled, the macho mockery of women, the anti-Muslim and anti-Mexican tirades. It's not just that he could become Silvio Berlusconi with nukes.
At times in the last week I have found myself in wonder, actively agreeing with commentaries by David Brooks and Max Lucado. I especially appreciate Lucado's commentary, which may put him at odds with some of his base of support. If Brooks and Lucado cannot remain silent, it seems to me that I should speak as well. I feel it is better to speak now, before anyone is the nominated candidate of the Republican Party.
This has nothing to do with the labels of "Liberal" or "Conservative." Indeed, as many have pointed out, you really can't nail Trump down on certain core issues of conservative ideology. It has to do with what Cohen identifies as the basic way Trump operates. I believe Trump is articulating nothing less than a new form of American Fascism. I want to define that carefully, because people often confuse fascism with socialism, due to the Nazi Party being the "National Socialist" party.
The best definition for the sake of this argument is that of Robert Paxton. He writes that fascism is "a form of political behavior marked by obsessive preoccupation with community decline, humiliation, or victimhood and by compensatory cults of unity, energy, and purity, in which a mass-based party of committed nationalist militants, working in uneasy but effective collaboration with traditional elites, abandons democratic liberties and pursues with redemptive violence and without ethical or legal restraints goals of internal cleansing and external expansion."1
One has to remember that in both Italy and Germany of the 20s and 30s, the backing for the regimes were not Marxist, but capitalist. The Third Reich was very profitable for Krupp, Porsche and BMW. The victimhood and decline implied in "Making American Great Again" and the purity language used against Muslims and Hispanics make this definition seem to fit in a frightening way. Note that I am NOT making a Reductio ad Hitlerium argument that Trump is like Hitler per se. Indeed, as John Lukacs argues, there may be no such thing as "generic" fascism. Each fascist regime has been unique, and each may simply be an enculturated expression of extreme populism.2 However, there are enough similarities in the way fascist regimes are structured and how they come to power that we should be able to draw historical lessons without immediately jumping to Holocaust parallels.
Of course, my primary concern is in the sphere of religion. A couple of days ago, I heard a conservative pastor discussing the support of Evangelical Christians for Trump. He related that many Evangelicals feel that the political process has failed them on the issue of same-sex marriage. Therefore, they have given up on the process of turning politics to reflect their values, and instead simply want to see a "Strong leader," no matter what views they espouse. We have seen this before inside fascist regimes. What is even more chilling is that intelligent people often are part of this process.
In Weimar Germany in the 1920s and 30s, many of the leading theologians, such as Gerhard Kittel (Whose Theological Dictionary of the New Testament is still in widespread use - "Little Kittel" is part of my Bible software), Paul Althaus, and Emanuel Hirsch also desired a strong leader to lift Germany out of the disastrous economic situation following World War I. Each worked out a reasoned (albeit extremely narrowly-reasoned) interpretation of the faith to support the rise of fascism. These days, we mostly remember the "Confessing Church" of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, but it is important to remember that millions of Christians felt that their faith was compatible with fascism, and that many well-known Christian leaders in the "German Christian" movement actively supported it. This is the problem with the "Christ of Culture" model described by H. Richard Niebuhr in Christ and Culture. In this case, a good part of German Christianity truly lived into Marx's criticism as an "Opiate of the masses."
Donald Trump is not Hitler or Mussolini, but that does not mean that his rise is not the harbinger of a new form of fascism. While Christians can hold different political viewpoints, I would venture to say that the opinions Donald Trump espouses have little to do with debate of substantive issues and much to do with fear and destructive nostalgia for a time that never was. I appeal to fellow Christians: Can his violent, mysogynistic, and racist narrative be harmonized to the Beatitudes, or the Song of Mary? Can his divisive rhetoric stand alongside Jesus' high-priestly prayer that we be one? Where in the Gospels or Epistles do we find support for the idea of a "Strong Leader" no matter what his scruples?
Democrat or Republican, liberal or conservative, socialist or capitalist? Christians disagree - but we can all find a place within the tradition. Every point in history where populist militarism and nationalism have twisted and compromised Jesus' message has led to tragedy. There is simply no place for the Lord of Peace inside fascism.
I'll give the final word to Robert P. Ericsson, Whose 1985 book Theologians Under Hitler feels much too relevant,
"The scenario to fear, then, is one in which a combination of crises makes life difficult. … If this is coupled with a meaningful attempt to follow democratic principles, … beware. Then we will hear calls for toughness, for law and order, for national unity. We will be tempted to sacrifice some democratic principles and civil rights for national wellbeing. … Will we avoid being the Kittel, Althaus or Hirsch of that time? Will we avoid using our intellect to rationalize a position that protects our comfort and best interests, closing our eyes to the pain created for the different or less fortunate among us? Until we have pondered the questions, we will do well not to condemn Kittel, Althaus and Hirsch too loudly." 3
"Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your sight" - a State of the Parish Sermon for 2016
A sermon about the Abundance of God and how that should effect our discourse, utilizing the miracle at the Wedding of Cana, St. Brigid's Prayer, and former senator John Danforth.
The Primates Meeting in Canterbury has released a statement
"requiring that for a period of three years The Episcopal Church no longer represent us on ecumenical and interfaith bodies, should not be appointed or elected to an internal standing committee and that while participating in the internal bodies of the Anglican Communion, they will not take part in decision making on any issues pertaining to doctrine or polity."
This is a response to the change of marriage canons at our General Convention this summer. In some ways, this doesn't change much. We have already been excluded from communion ecumenical and interfaith bodies for several years. In many ways, this at least sets a date at which time this exclusion will end.
The first thing I would say to anyone who is using language of being "Kicked Out" of the communion, is that this is a far cry from that. What IS the Anglican Communion? There's actually not just one definition, but many. Each member church defines the Communion in a different way. Ours is defined in the preamble to our Constitution thus:
The Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America, otherwise known as The Episcopal Church (which name is hereby recognized as also designating the Church), is a constituent member of the Anglican Communion, a Fellowship within the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church, of those duly constituted Dioceses, Provinces, and regional Churches in communion with the See of Canterbury, upholding and propagating the historic Faith and Order as set forth in the Book of Common Prayer.
The working definition for American Episcopalians of the Anglican Communion is that it is made up of churches that are in communion with the Archbishop of Canterbury. This means interchangeability of ministry and sacraments with the Church of England. Nothing in the entire process from the Windsor Report to now has changed that relationship with Canterbury. The relationship between The Episcopal Church and some other churches in communion with the CofE has changed, but that does not effect anything within our constitutional definition. So we have definitely not been "Kicked Out."
What is being effected is the way we participate in the "Instruments of Communion" that act as consultative bodies in the Communion. The Anglican Communion does not have a constitution. There are three Instruments: The Lambeth Conference, the Anglican Consultative Council, and the Primates Meeting. None of these instruments have juridical authority in any of the member churches of the Communion, and the way they interrelate is likewise not specified in any document. A good question is why the Primates Meeting feels it has the authority to do this. While the Primates Meeting certainly has the authority to determine its own membership and rules, they seem to imply they have authority to define that for the Anglican Consultative Council as well, which is more broadly representative and is the only instrument with representation of the laity. We'll see how that plays out.
My overall feeling is kind of "Meh." I get the distinct impression that these measures are ones of a Primates Meeting that is tired of fighting and wants to get on with other things. As to our "punishment," I'm going to quote from a post by my colleague the Rev. Miranda Hassett:
I am the mother of a straight white male. One of the most important things we're trying to teach him, as he becomes a young man, is the value of being an ally. Standing up for your friends who are girls facing sexism; kids of color facing racism; queer kids facing homophobia; differently-abled kids facing all kinds of barriers. Being an ally, we tell him, means there might be times when you get in trouble or have to deal with some crap, because you're standing with your friends. That's OK. In fact, it's better than OK. And we won't be mad.
I won't use the word "Prophetic," because that's a word that is thrown around a lot with no connection to its meaning in the Hebrew Scriptures. But if this is the price we pay for creating a church I feel I can raise my children in without having to have extended discussions of why if we love their GLBT friends we won't let them marry the people they love, then I'm fine with this.
At the first Lambeth Conference in 1867, the main topic was how to discipline the "radical" Bishop of Natal John Colenso, who among other things held up the idea that the first five books of the Hebrew Scriptures were not written by Moses or always scientifically accurate. He also criticized the treatment of native Africans during colonization. As we look back on that first decision to criticize and ostracize Colenso on the basis of things that are unremarkable or even heroic today, maybe we can hope that the current decision of the Primates Meeting will be seen this way in the future.
While we think of the visit of the Magi as a pastoral scene, they actually bring danger to the infant Jesus. Nevertheless, they are examples of faith for us.
Enrico, the Iberian Flea - A Children's Christmas Sermon
In which I completely geek out over the interplay of truth and myth and how they relate to the Christmas story. Also, did I mention Star Wars?
Earlier this week, Bp. Dan Martins posted "Jesus, Mel Gibson, and the alpha issue," in which he somehow tied together whether people liked Gibson's epic "The Passion of the Christ" with their views on theological orthodoxy and what is often termed progressive social justice issues. He posits that if you are "Conservative," you probably like Gibson's film because it emphasizes Jesus' passion, death and resurrection. You are therefore orthodox theologically and probably have certain positions on social issues. On the other hand, if you are "Progressive," you probably don't like the film because it does not cover Jesus' life and teaching. You are therefore most likely to underemphasize the ontological work of Jesus, favoring a social justice approach bereft of depth in the unique Christian witness.
Megan Castellan and Steve Pankey have already written on this strange exercise in cinematographic dualism. For many of us who are "Younger" in the church (And I need three sets of quotes around that), this is a tired and useless dichotomy that we have heard most of our lives. My personal experience is that for those of GenX and below, creedal orthodoxy is much more prevalent than is was in the preceding generation. Those of us holding this position see those creedal formations as requiring a push towards equality and parity in all areas of society. I'm not a person who believes in women's, civil, and GLBTQ rights and just happens to be a Christian. I am a person whose experience in "Generous orthodox" worship and study in the Christian tradition has led me to those positions.
We, the youngish (Maybe that's better) Progressive orthodox, have spent our lives being told by our elders that we can't be who we are. The Conservatives tell us that if we want to use traditional language liturgy, we should logically hold to their idea of "traditional marriage." The Progressives tell us if we want to support GLBTQ inclusion, that we should be working to throw out all of our historic liturgies. But here we are - people who will march for marriage equality or #blacklivesmatter but prefer Rahner to Spong and Von Balthasar to Borg. We might utilize "Messy Church" or a table eucharist during the week, but we still want high mass with chant on Sunday. To ignore this trend is to continue to live in the seminary memories of the 1960s and 70s, and refuse to see what the Spirit is doing in the Episcopal Church (and other denominations) today.
But perhaps my biggest qualm about Bp. Martin's post is the way he treats criticism of Gibson's movie. I find the movie repellant. This has nothing to do with Bp. Martin's split between those who emphasize Jesus' teachings and his salvific actions. It has to do with the fact that this movie is simply violent pornography. It is, in my humble opinion, heretical theology that glorifies the violence against Jesus and makes an idol of it.
If we look at the Gospel accounts (remember that Gibson's movie uses A LOT of extra-Biblical material) and the way Jesus interacts with authority, we see that he consistently refuses to be drawn into human pre-conceived notions of power and status. When the disciples want Jesus to hurry to meet someone important, he stops to interact with those whom the disciples deem unworthy. When Pilate asks, "So you are a king?" Jesus replies, "YOU say so." Most importantly for this argument, when the soldiers go to break the legs of the crucified, they marvel that Jesus is already dead. Jesus doesn't suffer MORE physically than any of the hundreds of thousands that are tortured and crucified by the Romans. In fact, the actual Biblical account seems to indicate he suffered LESS.
Why is it important that Jesus suffer less? Perhaps because like with the disciples or with Pilate, Jesus refuses to be constrained by our human concepts. The kind of worship of the violence perpetrated on Jesus in the film (one medical professional remarked Jesus shed more blood in the film than contained in six men) is an attempt to tame Jesus - to fit him into a category we are comfortable with. This is Jesus the action hero, not much different from Gibson's other heroes, Mad Max or William Wallace. We're honestly lucky Gibson didn't insert a training montage.
But the real Jesus, the incarnation of the Second Person of the Trinity, the crucified and resurrected Lord, did not die to glorify violence of any kind. He died quickly, in order to point to the fact that not even the violence of the of the combined political and religious authorities of his day could define who he was. He refused to participate or present an opportunity be used in the cycle of violence. It took centuries of popular piety and an erratic filmmaker to reverse that intention and turn it into a fetishized spectacle of gore that fit more neatly into our human narratives of violence, thereby robbing it of its true power.
The crucifixion is important. Every Good Friday I repeat the words, "We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world." But the redemption of the world is not accomplished by HOW MUCH humanity made Jesus suffer, it is accomplished by who Jesus IS, namely the incarnation of the Second Person of the Trinity.
In a day and age when violence committed under a patina of religiosity is causing so much death and destruction in the world, we as Christians need to admit that it's our problem too. When we religiously glorify violence of any kind, even that committed against Jesus, we fuel the cycle of violence. Jesus, as René Girard remarked, is the one that shows the absolute lie of the ultimate efficacy of sacrificial violence. Jesus is no longer bound to the cross, and neither are we as his followers.
This is a really long way of saying that Bp. Martin's use of the metaphor of Gibson's film is problematic. It's not that a Progressive orthodox like me has trouble with Jesus' salvific action, because that's core to my faith. In fact, Jesus' actions we commemorate during the Triduum are the foundations on which my belief in social justice issues rest. If Jesus did this for us to show us the powers and principalities could not bind him, why do we continue to bind each other in chains of racism and sexism and all the other "isms" that harm the children of God? And why do we continue to insist that humanity, in whatever group we are discussing, needs to be divided into opposing camps that can't find common ground?
Putting on the Armor of Light, a Sermon for Advent 1 C.
(This really IS a response to the Where is your Galilee" question as part of the Acts8 BLOGFORCE. As Bp. Curry says, "Stick with me now….")
One of the unfortunate decisions in the Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings (LOTR) films was to omit the chapter "The Scouring of the Shire" from the book The Return of the King. In that chapter, near the end of the trilogy, the returning Hobbits find the shire subjugated and industrialized by Saruman and his followers. From a mythological (Actually Mythopoeic[1]) perspective, this is the key to the book. The Hobbits represent the average readers, who are taken on a mystical journey, face travails, prevail over evil, then return to their world to bring it healing. The Hobbits not only drive the invaders out of the Shire and return it to it's agrarian base, but make it better than it was through their wisdom, abilities and the gifts of the elves which they acquired during their quest. In LOTR, the industrialization of the shire under Saruman was not just about factories and waste, but is a metaphor for the loss of meaning in society - a loss of the value of story in the face of bare empirical reductionism.
If you can't tell from that previous paragraph, I'm a geek. I often tell people that I was a geek long before I was a Christian. I saw Star Wars before I ever saw The Ten Commandments. I read Dune before I read the Bible. I've been a Dungeon Master longer than I've been baptized. I grew up in South Central Kentucky, where most of my contact with Christians had to do with people telling me I was going to hell because I didn't go to their specific church. While I thought Jesus was an interesting figure, I couldn't get past what I saw as the bigotry and anti-intellectualism of his followers. Christianity, as I saw it, was a narrow, moralistic path that seemed to have very little joy. It was a reductionistic way of thinking completely bereft of the power that I found in the books of Tolkien, Herbert and Asimov. I felt more community in 12 hour gaming sessions of "Star Frontiers" than I did in any of the student led prayer meetings that occurred around school events.
I was ignorant enough of the Christian story that when I read the C.S. Lewis Narnia series, I didn't pick up on the rather heavy-handed allegory. I remember loving the character of Aslan and thinking, "If the God of the Christians was like that, I might be interested in Christianity." There seemed to be no correlation between what was going on in Narnia and what I was hearing from the Christianity around me.
I became a Christian gradually and somewhat grudgingly - my stepfather was hired as the organist of the Episcopal Church and so I became an Episcopalian by default. The initial attack into my skepticism was liturgy and community. I had been led to believe that Christianity was about the acceptance of certain empirical propositions about God and Jesus. But as I spent time in my new church, I found that little time was wasted on that. Instead, it was all centered around building community inside and outside the church, as well as worship which featured re-telling the story of Jesus and re-enacting it in a communal way. This was from an unexpected direction, and I found myself bringing my guard down bit by bit.
The major turn towards faith took place when I started to look at the Bible critically. As long as the characters of the Bible were sterile, saintly characters, I had no real use for them. But when I began to read the Bible as literature, it came alive for me. As a person who had immersed myself in story in both reading and creating my own through tabletop role playing games, I could relate to real, mixed-motive characters. Abraham and Ehud, Jael and Rachel became characters as interesting as Gurney Halleck and Hari Seldon. It worked the other way too. After I had studied the Genesis account in a mythological manner, I found I could read Tolkien's Silmarillion all the way through - something I had attempted several times before without success. The Bible became a way to expand my imagination, rather than shut it down. It was now possible to think about Christian religion in a new way - as a story with incredible power. But I still needed a further step.
It was Lewis story of coming to faith that brought me in totally:
On that fateful night in 1931, Lewis was in the midst of a fretful return to religious faith. Raised as an Irish Protestant, he had become an agnostic as a teenager. Though he came back to accepting the idea of a divine presence in 1929, he continued to resist Christianity. It remained for Dyson, a High Anglican, and Tolkien, a devout Roman Catholic, to push him over the threshold — though it literally took them all night. As they marched back and forth along Addison's Walk, Tolkien argued for the literal and mythological truth of the Resurrection of Christ.
By all accounts, the key moment came when Lewis declared that myths are lies, albeit "lies breathed through silver." Tolkien replied, "No, they are not," and demanded to know why Lewis could accept Icelandic sagas as vehicles of truth while demanding that the Gospels meet some higher standard. Hours past midnight, Tolkien finally went home to bed, leaving Dyson to carry on the campaign. Tolkien's argument — that the Resurrection was the truest of all stories, with God as its poet — may not sound particularly convincing to nonbelievers (nor indeed to some Christians), but to a man committed to the idea of myth as the only way to express higher truths, it was irresistible. Two weeks later, Lewis told a friend he had once again fully embraced Christianity: "My long night talk with Dyson and Tolkien had a good deal to do with it." [2]
(This is a fictionalized video of Toklien and Lewis' conversation. It's from EWTN, so it portrays Tolkien as the self-confident Roman Catholic and Lewis as a kind of slow student, but the dialogue is helpful.
While it's often novel for people who know the Bible to read it as literature for the first time, for me as a religious outsider familiar with imaginative literature, it was the necessary step to be able to accept it as truth. For some Christians, it seems necessary to hold the Gospel as an exclusive truth that is unique from all others. For me, it was necessary that the "Christian Myth" was NOT unique in many of the archetypes and stories it uses. It was the fact that it had all the humanity of the other stories, but was transcended by divinity. Christ is the myth-made-man that gathers in the truth of all of humanity's myths and brings them into focus. Christ is THE story, embodied. I am not saying that Jesus did not exist, or that his Resurrection is purely a metaphor. I believe in the bodily Resurrection. I mean that God uses story as a primary means of imparting meaning, and that Jesus as one person of the Trinity is the ultimate meaning.
(I'm getting to the point. I'll sit down in a couple of minutes.)
In our culture, we are bereft of story. The enlightenment, while providing us with many benefits that I would never speak ill of, has left us with a lesser view of the power of fiction. We now say that something is "Only a story," inferring that since it does not bear up a strict factual truthfulness, that it must have less value. Despite that, as human beings we derive all our meaning from story. Therefore, we invent new stories to fill that meaning gap. These days, they are usually stories of political certitude backed up by niche media. In my opinion, part of the reason (beyond economics) why groups such as Al Queda and ISIS are able to recruit effectively is that people are growing up in a world bereft of narrative. Eventually, the narratives of politics wear out. They don't have depth and they leave one wanting more. People will reach for any meaning if they have none.
Christianity has that depth of story. We have THE story of the people of God culminating in the person of Jesus. In itself it is compelling if we don't sanitize it. It speaks deeply to people if we don't require subscription to moral codes and creeds before they hear it. It can be life changing for people who immerse themselves in other kinds of story if they are allowed to hear it that way - with it's native power.
This is my Galilee: The Geeks. My people. People who hunger for and immerse themselves in story, but have not been able to hear Christ's story in the same way, quite often due to the actions of his followers. As Episcopalians, we have the temperament and tools to be able to be the Jesus Movement to my people. We can present the narrative as narrative, while still holding onto its divinity.
Those of us who have experienced the life-transforming story of Jesus have, like the hobbits, gone into the world of legend and saga and returned changed. We can transform the Shire, returning the tradition of the past while bringing the best of the present. We can encourage tolerance and respect for all despite holding onto our particular truth claims. The challenge lies before us. "Go!"
To close, a paragraph from JRR Tolkien's essay On Fairy Stories:
I would venture to say that approaching the Christian Story from this direction, it has long been my feeling (a joyous feeling) that God redeemed the corrupt making-creatures, men, in a way fitting to this aspect, as to others, of their strange nature. The Gospels contain a fairy story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories. They contain many marvels—peculiarly artistic, beautiful, and moving: "mythical" in their perfect, self-contained significance; and among the marvels is the greatest and most complete conceivable eucatastrophe.[3] But this story has entered History and the primary world; the desire and aspiration of sub-creation has been raised to the fulfillment of Creation. The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man's history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation. This story begins and ends in joy. It has pre-eminently the "inner consistency of reality." There is no tale ever told that men would rather find was true, and none which so many skeptical men have accepted as true on its own merits. For the Art of it has the supremely convincing tone of Primary Art, that is, of Creation. [4]
Mythopoeia (also mythopoesis, after Hellenistic Greek μυθοποιία, μυθοποίησις "myth-making") is a narrative genre in modern literature and film where a fictional mythology is created by the writer of prose or other fiction. This meaning of the word mythopoeia follows its use by J. R. R. Tolkien in the 1930s. The authors in this genre integrate traditional mythological themes and archetypes into fiction. (From Wikipedia) ↩
The Real Fellowship of the Ring - Salon.com. www.salon.com. Web. 16 Nov. 2015. http://www.salon.com/2003/12/03/tolkien_lewis/ ↩
Eucatastrophe is a term coined by J. R. R. Tolkien which refers to the sudden turn of events at the end of a story which ensures that the protagonist does not meet some terrible, impending, and very plausible doom. The opposite of catastrophe. (From Wikipedia) ↩
"On Fairy Stories by Tolkien." Excellence in Literature by Janice Campbell. Accessed November 20, 2015. http://excellence-in-literature.com/childrens-literature/on-fairy-stories-by-tolkien. ↩
This past Sunday the Episcopal Church installed it's new Presiding Bishop (PB), the Most Rev. Michael Curry. This was the fourth PB installation that has occurred during my time as an Episcopalian. I never saw the liturgy for ++Browning. I watched ++Griswold and ++Schori's installations at later dates on DVDs. This time, the technology was good for watching online.
We had added the "Rood Screen" and a projector a couple of years ago. I don't use our screen for liturgy or singing, but only for preaching and announcements (See my initial post here). This time, I decided to move our Sunday late service time by an hour so that we could take part in the service in Washington by webcast.
The technology worked well. It required a small amount of audio tweaking and we had one ten-second point of buffering, but was otherwise smooth. Since the tech went well, I was a little more present to think about what it was that we were doing - the positives and the possible dangers.
I am well aware I am not the first person to use telepresence in worship. I've been to non-denominational megachurches where the pastor's image is projected life-size onto a screen on the stage for the sermon. The way we as Episcopalians approach sacrament would raise questions in such a venture. If the Eucharist is a celebration of the church gathered for worship with Christ in the center, what does it mean when the primary celebration is happening a thousand miles away?
First of all, let me be clear about my role. Even though blessing of the water of Baptism and the celebration of the Eucharist were taking place on the screen, they were also taking place in my congregation. I said the words along with the celebrants in Washington and the people were responding, so I have no question about validity of sacrament. I have a hard time seeing us ever being in the place where we could accept that a priest at the other end of a video connection could effect Sacramental action remotely.
I was acutely aware from the beginning of planning of the tension between beautiful liturgy and showmanship. As one blogger put it recently, "The distance between a brazier of incense at Compline and a fog machine at a concert is not all that great." Despite being a technophile, I am inherently suspicious of projection screens in worship because of the way we passively receive from them in the rest of our lives.
I was also concerned about the idea of locality. The Eucharist is a rite that should reflect the gifts and limitations of a real local congregation as we bring them before God. The use of a projected cathedral liturgy could both make it an over-the-top show, and destroy that sense of who we are when we gather as a church.
The experience was positive, although I am still in a stage of reflection at this point. The first thing that made it work was the nature of the event. Using telepresence allowed my congregation to participate in the service as a worship experience together that they could have only otherwise experienced as more of a production and then only as individuals. It brought us together with those in Washington and other sites to experience an important moment in our lives as Episcopalians and celebrate that with sacramentality. When my people pray for ++Curry in our Prayers of the People for the next nine years, they will have a memory to draw on rather than just his name.
The second thing that made it work was the fact that it was an occasional occurrence rather than the regular way we worship. Using that method regularly would, I believe, change the entire focus of worship from the locally gathered community to the show taking place elsewhere. Instead of being a celebration of local gifts brought to God, it would have hampered local gifts by setting a standard to which we could not aspire on a Sunday-to-Sunday basis. So in short, I would say it was a great enhancement to my congregation's worship life, but only because it's not what we usually do. The very nature of it as a special event made it possible to use it to allow my people to experience the wider church without it hampering the local, weekly way we worship.
Tech is what we make of it. It neither inherently enhances or destroys community. It always brings with it promises when used well and dangers when used badly. I am pleased that Sunday we appeared to be able to use the tech well.
Fr David uses the story of Melchizedek and the Epistle of Hebrews to look at Jesus' work on the cross, particularly through the works of Rene Girard. A sermon for Proper 25 B, 10/25/15
You hear a lot these days about Christians being "Persecuted" in America. This is despite the fact that we hold an overwhelming majority of positions in the national, state and local governments. As a student of Church History, I would say that very little if any actual systematic persecution is taking place of Christians in America. What is instead happening is that Christians are mistaking the loss of privilege for persecution. The difference is important. Perhaps the best recent example of this is the case of Rowan County Clerk Kim Davis in Kentucky. Her office continues to refuse marriage licenses to Same-Sex couples despite instruction from both the Governor's office and the ruling of a federal judge.
Davis claims that since her version of Christian belief holds that marriage can only occur between men and women, that having to issue a civil marriage license to a same-sex couple would be a violation of her religious freedom. She also refuses to let her deputy clerks sign because her name still appears on the license. This means that same-sex couples who are citizens of Rowan County must travel to a neighboring county for a civil marriage license.
There are Christian voices claiming that she is being subjected to religious persecution. This flies in the face of the history of religious accommodation in America. Employers must provide "reasonable accommodation" to those with a religious scruple. BUT the employee MUST be able to perform the basic functions of their job. Allowing a Sikh to wear a turban against dress code while teaching school does not effect the basic functions of his job. That's a reasonable accommodation. A Hindu claiming that although they work as a butcher they will not kill animals isn't a reasonable accommodation. The job of a county clerk is to uphold the Constitution as interpreted by judicial process. County clerks issue marriage licenses under the laws and interpretation set by the state. If one is led by one's religious beliefs to be unable to fulfill the basic functions of that job, then that job is unsuitable for you by your own choice. It's not persecution. No more than refusing to hire an Orthodox Jew for a factory shift on a Saturday when that person has indicated they absolutely cannot work on the Sabbath. Could reasonable accommodation be made? Maybe, if the clerk would allow a deputy to sign the licenses. Instead, she seems to be dwelling on an incorrect interpretation of religious freedom.
It's not persecution we are talking about - it's loss of historic Christian privilege in America. The fact that she thinks she could be in the legal right here indicates how much Christian privilege still remains. People that are incensed by this "assault" on her "religious freedom" would be scandalized if this principle were applied to the beliefs of other religious groups. What if a Hindu refused to issue marriage licenses to people who were of different castes? What if a Muslim refused to issue marriage licenses to marriages between Muslims and non-Muslims? Let's broaden that principle out. What if a Jew who was head of the USDA decided that it was against his religion to supervise inspections of pork? How about a Rastafari police chief who refuses to enforce marijuana violations? No, only supposedly Christian beliefs have this protection. Thats privilege, even if it is waning.
Davis is free to believe whatever she wants. No one is trying to get her to change her religious beliefs. As Judge Bunning said in his ruling,
"Davis remains free to practice her Apostolic Christian beliefs. She may continue to attend church twice a week, participate in Bible Study and minister to female inmates at the Rowan County Jail. She is even free to believe that marriage is a union between one man and one woman, as many Americans do," .. "However, her religious convictions cannot excuse her from performing the duties that she took an oath to perform as Rowan County Clerk."
In some ways, I find this highly ironic. At the same time some in America are talking about Christians being persecuted, they are simultaneously insisting that someone not face the consequences of their "Christian" belief. In other words, they want to say they are persecuted, but not face the suffering that would take place if actual persecution were taking place. It's the best of both worlds. You get to hold onto the reigns of power but get the satisfaction of false victimhood.
As a Christian minister, I find this misuse of religious accommodation reprehensible and counter to the Gospel. When Mary sang her song during her pregnancy, she told us that Jesus would "Bring down the mighty from their thrones and exalt the lowly." Jesus did not lead from a position of temporal power. Neither did Paul or any of the apostles. The fusion of church and state did not happen until the reign of Constantine. The ramifications of that are still playing out over 1500 years later. The idea that public office is the place where a Christian should enforce her beliefs on others over and against the law of the land has nothing at all to do with the teachings of Jesus. It has everything to do with age-old human problems of power and insecurity.
If we want to be Christians who follow Jesus authentically, then we need to ditch the language of persecution. It only belongs in places of actual persecution, like parts of the Middle East and Africa. We need to embrace the fact that our privilege is dying. We should welcome that, because when our privilege is finally dead, we will be standing closer to Jesus.
A sermon for the 50th Anniversary of the martyrdom of Jonathan Myrick Daniels - Proper 14B. Video from "Here Am I, Send Me: The Story of Jonathan Daniels" at https://vimeo.com/14117023
A Sermon for Proper 13B by the Rev. David Simmons, ObJN. Sometimes we become so obsessed with the details of what Jesus says and does that we forget to follow Jesus himself.
A Sermon for Proper 12B - The Rev. David Simmons, ObJN. For us to see the world properly as children of God, a sense of wonder is required.
Compassion is the root of Jesus' ministry, and is necessary for human culture to thrive. What do we need to do to be compassionate in our culture?
This last Sunday, I played this sermon from our Presiding Bishop-Elect Michael Curry. If you have not seen him preach, it is well worth watching the full 25 minutes. He is known as one of the most dynamic preachers in American Christianity.
I've just gotten home from the General Convention of the Episcopal Church, which was held in Salt Lake City, Utah, over the last couple of weeks. It was a grueling schedule - not only the legislation, but the additional duties I took on with the Ecumenical and Inter-religious office and on the exhibit floor for the Order of Julian of Norwich.
It's going to take me a while to reflect on this convention. I suspect my sermon this week on Sunday will be somewhat of a "highlights," assuming I can find a way to work the Gospel in. The two things that stand out the most in my mind as things of interest to report were the election of our new Presiding Bishop Elect, The Rt. Rev. Michael Curry, and the resolutions on marriage.
Michael Curry is a force of personality. His preaching is radically Jesus-centered and he is all about evangelism. Our current PB, Katherine Jefferts-Schori, was the right choice for the time. Her unflappable calm in the midst of the storms that faced our church nine years ago was exactly what we needed. Perhaps now we need the evangelical fire and broad-tent catholicism of Curry. I'm inclined to agree with Ben Irwin on the "Three Reasons why I'm Really, Really excited about our new Presiding Bishop." There's an embedded video there of his first sermon after election. He is amazing. I expect we are bound to see a renewed emphasis on evangelism and church-planting. It is time for us to leave our bunkers where we have hunkered during the collapse of Christendom and proclaim the Gospel in our particular way.
The second is the way the issue of same-sex marriage was handled at this convention. Anyone who has spent anytime around the governance of main-line protestantism for the last couple of decades knows that same-sex marriage is the lightning rod that is either addressed or conveniently ignored in those gatherings.
Three years ago, the Episcopal Church authorized Same-Sex Blessings. At this time I wrote:
One of the questions everyone is asking about the approval of a provisional rite for same-sex blessings is how it changes our understanding of marriage. It's a complex question, and I'll start with defining "Marriage" and "Matrimony. " These are often used interchangeably in both the culture and the church, but I'm going to define these just for use within this post.
"Marriage" is a civil affair binding two individuals together legally. This is the ancient definition of marriage which predates Christianity.
"Matrimony" is a sacrament, or sacramental rite, or has no religious status at all, depending on your time period and which strain of Christianity you belong to. It's important to note that matrimony can be seen as kind of a "Junior Sacrament" due to its relative newness.
Jesus spoke of the of the permanence of marriage, but not the moral goods. Paul saw marriage as a poor second to celibacy, as did most early Christians. Gregory of Nyssa (d. 385 or so) was one of the first to see a possibility of divine work within marriage equal to that of celibacy, in that it trained people in impermanence.
The role of the church in marriage only began to pick up when it became the established religion of the Roman Empire. As ministers became civil officials, they took on civil roles, including solemnizing marriages. The church slowly began to develop a sacramental theology of matrimony. By the early Middle Ages, marriages begin to be celebrated in churches. By the late Middle Ages, marriage and matrimony combined as the church took over many of the civil functions of the defunct empire and became the sole purveyor of marriages.
This is the confused understanding of marriage and matrimony that we inherit - one born of a confusion of religion and civil government. Clergy in the United States that perform marriages function simultaneously as religious and civil officials. It's important to note that the center group of one of our most cherished American myths, the puritans fleeing religious persecution, believed that marriage was a purely civil affair and rejected any sacramentality around it.
In the modern situation, we face our old confusion. While Europe has separated civil marriage from religious matrimony, The United States continues to conflate the two. This gets especially difficult as the civil authorities redefine (or one could say refuse to define in specific gender terms) what marriage is. In many states, same-sex marriage is legal, while in others same-gender unions are legal, while in others constitutional amendments make such civil recognition impossible.
(Note: If you want more in-depth information on the Biblical, Ethical and Historical foundations of marriage, the supporting essays in the report of the Task Force on The Study of Marriage are pretty good.)
Of course, the last paragraph no longer applies, as the SCOTUS decision was released during the course of convention - another interesting influence on the tone of convention. Same-sex marriage is or will be legal in every state within a short period of time. The church has to respond.
The problem is, how DO we respond? After all, we are a church that inherits both the protestant idea that marriage is a civil ordinance that can sometimes bring forth blessings, and the catholic idea that marriage is a sacrament that is blessed in the actual performance of the ceremony.
This was particularly poignant walking around the LDS (Mormon) Temple complex. The Mormons hold BOTH ideas. Marriages performed outside of a Mormon temple are civil affairs, even if performed inside a chapel. Divorce is possible if frowned upon. Marriages that are "Sealed" inside a temple are literally eternal (although there IS a kind of annulment process for this). The Mormons have found a way, as they do in many areas, to synthesize the confusing and pluralistic streams of American religious and political thought on marriage into a whole, which is admirable even if you disagree.
For those of us who do not choose this path of synthesis, and hold to more orthodox ideas of Christianity, it's not so easy. We still confuse "Marriage" and "Matrimony" and have a thousand nuanced positions on each. Is marriage about children? Is it about love? Is it about partnership? Does it have a sacramental dimension? Is it purely a function of the state? More importantly, how do we as a church deal with both the legalities and theology of marriage when we hold all these conflicting positions within one church?
The answer, I believe, is what came out of convention. There are two rites, one that looks like the SSB rite from three years ago, the other that looks more like the marriage rite from the 1979 BCP. There are canonical changes that makes it clearer that clergy, if they choose, may act as agents of the state in Same-Sex marriages. These decisions are still at the level of the diocese, and so are sensitive to local implementation. It is clearly stated that clergy should not face discipline for being either for or against these changes, and of course, no clergy person can be made to perform a ceremony against their will.
In some ways, General Convention changed little. Same-sex marriage has been in place in much of the church since 2012. But in other ways, this opens the tent a little broader and allows people with differing views to co-exist with a little more elbow room.
Of course there is dissent. Those who oppose these changes are making their opinions known, and provision has been made for them to be able to hold to their consciences within the Episcopal Church. A deputy from the Diocese of Albany thanked the convention for the decorum and grace that was offered, even if the result was not what they wanted. A deputy from South Carolina noted that they were NOT walking out of convention, which has been a familiar phenomenon in the past.
My prayer is that the new provisions will make the tent truly broad enough to hold all of us. A new wind is blowing. One that is not all about issues of gender and sexuality, which has been what has held our attention as a denomination for decades. It's a wind of the Gospel and the Holy Spirit. We talked more about Jesus in this convention that I have ever heard in the Episcopal Church.
Perhaps we can finally shake off our internal struggles and become a real part of what Bp. Curry calls "The Jesus Movement," working to heal the hurts of a broken world.
"Do you not care that we are perishing?" is a question many in the African American community ask after the shooting in Charleston this last week. How do we respond as Christians outside the African-American Community?
A Sermon for Proper 6 B - The Parable of the Seed Growing Secretly.
What is the "Blasphemy against the Holy Spirit" in Mark? Context is important. It's a problem inside the faith community rather than outside. A sermon for Proper 5 B.
A sermon for Trinity Sunday by the Rev. David Simmons, ObJN, which includes references to Tomorrowland, An old Cherokee tale, and Pew research data, all in one fell swoop…
Comforted and Disturbed - a Sermon for Pentecost.
On the Sci-Fi show Battlestar Galactica, there's a repeated saying, "All this has happened before, and all of it will happen again."
Last week, a group of clerical and lay members of the Episcopal Church laid out a general vision for a way forward towards restructuring in "A Memorial to the Church," along with some enabling resolutions for General Convention. All of them are Acts8 Members, but Acts8 is careful to make the distinction between Acts8, which is a Missionary Society, and the memorial and legislation, which is an endeavor by a voluntary subset of people. The "Memorializers" are all sustaining members of Acts8, but all Acts8 members are not "Memorializers."
The reaction has been mixed - Mostly positive, Some negative. But it has created a stir of excitement in social media and on blogs. No matter what you think about the specifics, a group of volunteers who are unauthorized by any church body and are self-funded have put together a proposal for change in the church that has caught the attention of the wider body.
It's not dissimilar to the way the Episcopal Church reinvented itself after the American Revolution, when William White wrote "The Case of the Episcopal Churches in the United States Considered." Many of the things White suggested were adopted, while many were rejected, but the process through which The Episcopal Church became an independent denomination from the Church of England shows us that radical change from the grass roots is part of our DNA. The Ecumenical movement and the "Ritualistic Wars" of the 19th century likewise changed the church greatly from the ground up. All it takes is for us to recognize that THIS is the historical way we do things rather than through ponderous acts and authorizations of General Convention. Convention is an authorizing body, but it does not need to be, nor can it really be, the origin of sweeping change.
I have also heard the criticism that this work is all some sort of "distraction" from the "real business" of Jesus. Namely, figuring out what the Holy Spirit wants the church to do in the face of racism, poverty, and the growing tide of religious unaffiliation in our society. While I'm sympathetic to that argument, it seems vaguely gnostic to me. Humans are political creatures. We organize ourselves, and those organizations become loci of power and privilege. To say this work is irrelevant is to intentionally ignore the power and privilege we still have within our church. It is to continue to allow the current structure to operate while we continue to support it monetarily.
I heartily believe that we are heading into a period of great change in the church. A good parallel might be any one of the renewal movements at times of societal change - The Franciscans, or the Tractarians, or the Methodists. But the reality is, none of these movements appeared in a vacuum. They came from what was before, and they became something else before being reformed yet again. Nothing in our history, including the Gospel, including the Church, including Jesus himself, sprang fully-formed out of nothing. Even if what is coming is a phoenix, it still requires the ashes of the previous bird to rise. It is worth it to work on the current order even while looking forward to the new, which will still share much of what has gone before. Jesus had John make the path straight. How we order ourselves now can make it easier or harder to birth the new thing into being.
I am not a legislative wonk, so while I generally like the idea of most of the resolutions, I am reserving my opinion on the specifics. What I am most excited about is the process by which the memorial and resolutions itself were generated. It's really nothing new - this is the way we generally did things back before the denomination became more of a corporate entity in the 20th century. It's probably the way things will be in the future as resources become more scarce and the luxury of a grand central administration becomes unaffordable.
"All this has happened before, and all of it will happen again."
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On the Sci-Fi show Battlestar Galactica, there's a repeated saying, "All this has happened before, and all of it will happen again."
Last week, a group of clerical and lay members of the Episcopal Church laid out a general vision for a way forward towards restructuring in "A Memorial to the Church," along with some enabling resolutions for General Convention. All of them are Acts8 Members, but Acts8 is careful to make the distinction between Acts8, which is a Missionary Society, and the memorial and legislation, which is an endeavor by a voluntary subset of people. The "Memorializers" are all sustaining members of Acts8, but all Acts8 members are not "Memorializers."
The reaction has been mixed - Mostly positive, Some negative. But it has created a stir of excitement in social media and on blogs. No matter what you think about the specifics, a group of volunteers who are unauthorized by any church body and are self-funded have put together a proposal for change in the church that has caught the attention of the wider body.
It's not dissimmilar to the way the Episcopal Church reinvented itself after the American Revolution, when William White wrote "The Case of the Episcopal Churches in the United States Considered." Many of the things White suggested were adopted, while many were rejected, but the process through which The Episcopal Church became an independent denomination from the Church of England shows us that radical change from the grass roots is part of our DNA. The Ecumenical movement and the "Ritualistic Wars" of the 19th century likewise changed the church greatly from the ground up. All it takes is for us to recognize that THIS is the historical way we do things rather than through ponderous acts and authorizations of General Convention. Convention is an authorizing body, but it does not need to be, nor can it really be, the origin of sweeping change.
I have also heard the criticism that this work is all some sort of "distraction" from the "real business" of Jesus. Namely, figuring out what the Holy Spirit wants the church to do in the face of racism, poverty, and the growing tide of religious unaffiliation in our society. While I'm sympathetic to that argument, it seems vaguely gnostic to me. Humans are political creatures. We organize ourselves, and those organizations become loci of power and privilege. To say this work is irrelevant is to intentionally ignore the power and privilege we still have within our church. It is to continue to allow the current structure to operate while we continue to support it monetarily.
I heartily believe that we are heading into a period of great change in the church. A good parallel might be any one of the renewal movements at times of societal change - The Franciscans, or the Tractarians, or the Methodists. But the reality is, none of these movements appeared in a vacuum. They came from what was before, and they became something else before being reformed yet again. Nothing in our history, including the Gospel, including the Church, including Jesus himself, sprang fully-formed out of nothing. Even if what is coming is a phoenix, it still requires the ashes of the previous bird to rise. It is worth it to work on the current order even while looking forward to the new, which will still share much of what has gone before. Jesus had John make the path straight d. How we order ourselves now can make it easier or harder to birth the new thing into being.
I am not a legislative wonk, so while I generally like the idea of most of the resolutions, I am reserving my opinion on the specifics. What I am most excited about is the process by which the memorial and resolutions itself were generated. It's really nothing new - this is the way we generally did things back before the denomination became more of a corporate entity in the 20th century. It's probably the way things will be in the future as resources become more scarce and the luxury of a grand central administration becomes unaffordable.
"All this has happened before, and all of it will happen again."
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My friend and colleague Miranda Hassett doesn't blog, but wanted to share some thought on the Memorial and Resolutions - so I'm helping her out here.
Some partial thoughts on revitalization and restructuring…
I just spent a deeply thoughtful hour re-reading the TREC report, and reading, for the first time, the Memorial to the Church and its accompanying resolutions (though I freely confess that I skimmed all the canonical changes - I trust this group!)
Overall, I am very much on board and very appreciative of this group's work; I think they've done some good and helpful work clarifying and adapting some of the TREC proposals. But I have two points that I'd like to raise.
First, I have one comment on the substance of one of the resolutions that accompany the Memorial: the Resolution on the Revitalization of Congregations. My issue is with one word: revitalization. The elements of this resolution seem like a fine plan to staff up & establish structures to pursue that goal. But I see a lack of clarity here regarding what that goal is, exactly. What does "revitalization" mean? The Explanation text offers no clarification, and further, seems to confuse mission and recruitment. The TREC report is quite clear that the purpose of following Jesus into the neighborhood is to join in the work of healing, reconciliation, and renewal that God is already undertaking there. Joining in God's Kingdom work as missional people may mean that we make more Christians, or it may not. Making more Christians may mean that we make more Episcopalians, or may not. There is nothing wrong with recruitment, which seems to be what this resolution really has in mind (for example, in this wording: "… reaching out to populations that are underrepresented in the Episcopal Church"). But recruitment is not the same thing as missional engagement. Recruitment is not even the same thing as evangelism, which is proclaiming God's good news to the world around us - again, irrespective of whether doing so makes more Episcopalians or not. If what we mean is that we want to double-down on effective recruitment, I wish we would say so, rather than muddying the important distinction between missional engagement to serve God and recruiting members to build our churches. Furthermore, I find the use of the word "revitalization" as a shorthand for any or all of this to be confusing; my first reaction to that word is that it has primarily to do with the inner life of a parish - for example, with renewing spiritual practices, calling forth members' gifts, etc.
Second, I mourn the lack of any counterpart to TREC's A003 resolution here - the resolution given the unpromising name of "Restructure Assets in Service of God's Mission in the Future," but which I think of as "The one about the missional use of space." I think there's a lot of real and exciting potential in thinking differently about our buildings - the principal asset of many of our parishes, even small and struggling ones - and I think this resolution offered some helpful nudges in that direction, in encouraging dioceses and parishes to think missionally and creatively about their buildings. I found interest, too, in the idea of regional networks of folks with relevant areas of expertise to serve as resources. I have heard very little chatter about this particular resolution and fear it may end up on the cutting room floor, and I believe that would be a lost opportunity to spark many important conversations.
The question for this week's Acts8 BLOGFORCE is, "Where have you experienced resurrection, either in the church or otherwise, this Holy Week and Easter Season?" I found it in the chapter "The Trembling Giant" of Rachel Held Evans' new book, "Searching for Sunday." Evans' book, which is reviewed in detail here by Nurya Love Parish, details her journey from Evangelicalism to where she currently attends, which is an Episcopal Church.
In my post at the founding of Acts8, "Assumed Ecumenism and the Missionary Society," I wrote,
If we approach the missionization of our culture from the vantage point of proclaiming "The Episcopal Church," we will fail, because young people will not be interested in "The Episcopal Church." What they may be interested in is a way of being Christian and following Jesus that is grounded in the Episcopal ethos. If we set out to make Episcopalians, it's not going to work. If we set out to form followers of Jesus (and we HAVE to talk about Jesus) that are thoughtful, faithful, and merciful because they are grounded in the baptismal covenant and common worship, then we could be successful.
While she certainly does not represent ALL millennials, RHE certainly seems to have her finger on the pulse of a movement of many younger people looking for a "grounded" experience in Christianity with deep roots and which is less consciously "hip." What I love the most about her book is her "Assumed Ecumenism." Her journey takes her through several Evangelical churches, a church plant, a United Methodist youth convention, a Roman Catholic monastery, and finally to a new home in an Episcopal Church. Instead of seeing each one as a flavor to be tried and discarded, she sees each as adding to the fuller recipe of her walk with Jesus.
Last week, at the National Workshop on Christian Unity, we were treated to lectures by Dr. Amy-Jill Levine. Dr. Levine is a Jewish New Testament scholar, which makes for an interesting perspective. She challenged us as to why we think our denominational differences matter so much. Jews tend to see us as a single people, as do Muslims. She pointed out that people who hate us, such as ISIS, see us as a unitive whole. If our enemies see us that way, why do WE fail to see ourselves that way? How do we fail to see the fundamental unity in baptism we claim in the rites of our various churches? If RHE is an indication of the way younger generations perceive the church, it may already be accomplished de facto if still not de jure.
ONE OF THE OLDEST LIVING THINGS IN THE WORLD IS A clonal colony of quaking aspen in Fish Lake, Utah, called Pando. Estimated to be around eighty thousand years old (though no one knows the exact age for certain), Pando is a favorite October entry for wall calendars, as no photographer can resist those stark white trunks and shimmering golden leaves set against the shocking sapphire of a cloudless autumn sky. But Pando can be deceptive, for as artist Rachel Sussman puts it, "what looks like a forest is, in a sense, a single tree."
In truth, Pando comprises a massive underground root system and each of its forty-seven thousand trees are but stems springing from that system, making Pando one enormous, genetically identical organism. And a male one at that. He's nicknamed the Trembling Giant.
At last count, there are nearly as many denominations in Christianity as there are trees growing from Pando. Each one looks different— beautiful and broken in its own way— but we all share the same DNA.
Evans, Rachel Held (2015-04-14). Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church (pp. 200-201). Thomas Nelson. Kindle Edition.
This is a beautiful metaphor, and I will no doubt use it many times in the future.
One thing I am careful to point out with RHE's journey as I perceive it is that she is becoming a member of AN Episcopal congregation, not necessarily The Episcopal Church. She has found what she is looking for in a particular place, but its possible it could have been an ELCA or "high-church" Methodist congregation. She hasn't found what she's looking for because of Anglophilia, or the 39 Articles, or a bicameral legislative body. She has found what she is looking for in the particular expression of Anglican comprehensiveness in a particular congregation.
As we look at national restructuring and all sorts of navel gazing occurs, it's important to pay attention to this movement. Reorganizing our national structure has very little to do with why these young Christians are interested in us. We need to make sure we keep focussed on mission. Perhaps RHE will "Become an Episcopalian," perhaps not. It may not be her final destination in her faith journey. But Im glad she's with us for now and I'm thankful she has written Searching for Sunday as a sign of resurrection for those of us who identify as Episcopalians.
We are one in Jesus. As Thomas Merton once said, our separateness is only a dream. It is heartening to see so many of our younger brothers and sisters realize this in a way we have been reluctant to.
Christ Harrowing Hell
From the Holy Saturday Matins service of the Byzantine Rite
A fearful and marvelous mystery is today beheld being accomplished: The Incorporeal is conquered; he who freed Adam from the curse is bound; he who tries the hearts and reins of humanity is unjustly tried by them; he who shut the abyss is shut up in prison. He before whom the powers of heaven stand with trembling, stands before Pilate; the Fashioner is smitten by the hand of him whom he fashioned; he is adjudged to the Tree of the Cross, who judges the living and the dead. He is shut up in the tomb, who is the purger of Hell. O you, who with compassion did endure all things and has saved all from the curse, most patient Lord, glory to you.
Glory be to your cross, O Christ, and to your Resurrection.
When you, the redeemer of all, had been placed for all in the new tomb, Hell, the respecter of none, saw you, and crouched in fear. The bars broke, the gates were shattered, the graves were opened, the dead arose. Then Adam, thankfully rejoicing, cried out to you: "Glory to your humiliation, O merciful Master."
Glory be to your cross, O Christ, and to your Resurrection.
When you, the deathless Life, did come down to Death, then did you destroy Hell through the dazzling brightness of the Godhead; and when you did raise up the dead from the abyss, all the powers of heaven cried aloud: "Christ our God, Giver of life, glory to you."
Glory be to your cross, O Christ, and to your Resurrection.
Creation was moved with intense astonishment, when it beheld you hung in Golgotha, you who did hang all the earth free in the midst of the waters; wherefore it cried: "None is holy except you, O Lord." He who closed up the abyss is seen as dead, and wrapped in linen and spices; he the Immortal, as mortal is laid in the tomb. O Lord, Creator of the world, and Conqueror of death, glory to you.
Glory be to your cross, O Christ, and to your Resurrection.
Today the grave holds him who holds creation in the hollow of his hand. A stone covers him who covers the heavens with virtue. Life sleeps, and Hell trembles, and Adam is set free from his bonds. Glory to your dispensation, O Lord, through which, when all things were accomplished, you presented to us an eternal rest – your most holy Resurrection from the dead.
Glory be to your cross,O Christ, and to your Resurrection.
The great Moses mystically foreshadowed this day, saying: "And God blessed the seventh day." This is the blessed Sabbath; it is the day of rest, and on it the only-begotten Son of God rested from all his works; through the dispensation of death, in the flesh he rested. Joseph of Arimathea begged the body of Jesus, and laid it in his own new tomb, for it was fitting for him to pass from the grave as from a bridal chamber. You who has destroyed the power of death and to humanity has opened the gates of paradise, glory to you.
Glory be to your cross, O Christ, and to your Resurrection.
Most blessed are you, O Mother of God, for through him who was incarnate from you, Hell was made captive, the curse was annulled, Eve was set free, Death was put to death, and we are endued with life. Therefore, we cry, "Blessed are you, O Christ our God, who did so will; glory to you."
Glory be to your cross, O Christ, and to your Resurrection.
To: My Beloved People
From: Jesus Christ, Son of the living God
on Good Friday
I was listening to the stations of the cross you were celebrating today in my honor, and I heard an interesting prayer:
"Teach your Church, O Lord, to mourn the sins of which it is guilty, and to repent and forsake them; that, by your pardoning grace, the results of our iniquities may not be visited upon our children and our children's children; through Jesus Christ our Lord."
I'm glad you're praying to me, and I'm glad you're thinking of the future, but I'm concerned how you might take this prayer. You almost might think from it that my father is into punishing you for the things you do wrong. You might even think that he's into punishing your children and your grandchildren. While there are plenty of bad fathers in the world, please rest assured that my father is not one of those. My father loved you all into existence and called you very good. He knows your limitations. In regards to those things you have done and have left undone, he looks at you with pity and not with blame. He cannot forgive you, because he never blamed you, or hated you, or wished harm to you and never will.
The prayer could also be read in a very good way, in that by asking that your iniquities not be visited upon your descendants, that you are finally admitting that it is your own actions that are causing lasting harm in the world. I was listening to NPR the other day, which I do a lot. A journalist was talking about the time he went to Somalia to cover the great famine there. He said they walked into the hotel to find great mounds of food welcoming them, while people were literally starving on the streets below. In one heartbreaking case he related how a father had watched his son die of starvation in a hospital, then had carried his body out into the street past booths of food which he did not have the money to buy. The journalist explained that famine never has to do with supply, but with distribution. You don't need my father to punish you - as a race, you do a pretty good job punishing yourselves. You are experts at ignoring the long-term consequences of your decisions, so that your own wrath is visited upon your children and your children's children.
Folks, I didn't come to earth and become one of you to appease my father's wrath. I came to save you from your own. I came to instill my divinity into humanity so that humanity might become humane. When my suffering was over on the cross, I did not turn to my father and ask if he was pleased. I cried, "It is accomplished!" I turned to humanity, and I turn to each one of you and ask, "Is it enough? Are you satisfied? Have I proven to you once and for all that God does not desire your death or that of any of you? Looking upon the soldiers gambling over my belongings, can you continue to disregard the needs of the poor? Looking upon the tortured ruin of my body, can you continue to torture each other? God himself has died there at your hands. Having crucified God, can you continue to crucify each other in your daily lives? Can you continue to hate? "
Beloved, God is love, and I am God. Humanity crucified love. That is not the end of the story. In three days, you'll see. All shall be well. But for now, it is right for you to gaze upon my body on the cross, and for you to remember that it was not God that put me there, nor just one group that you can point the finger at, but all of humanity. And should it be nothing to you as you pass by, it is not God's wrath that shall be visited upon your children and your children's children, but the wrath you hold so dear in your hearts. I came to save you. It is accomplished. All that remains is for you to accept the freedom I have purchased from your own selves.
Yours Truly,
Jesus Christ,
a true lover of your soul
Do you know what I have done to you?" That's what I asked the disciples after I had washed their feet. They were all confused and upset. Peter was fairly trembling with angst. And why not? The disciples thought of me as either a Rabbi or the prophesied king who would dismantle the brutal Roman occupation. Rabbis and Kings don't wash feet. This was the position of a slave. I know for many of you, the idea of having your feet washed is intimate and possibly embarrassing, but at the time, it was something done routinely by people who were considered sub-human and ignored. "Do you know what I have done to you" I asked them. They looked at me blankly. They thought they knew what I had done. They thought I had embarrassed them yet again by being insensitive to the realities of power and the strictures of respectability.
And indeed I was. The thing is, power and prestige, respectability and reputation are all human constructs - No more important in the scheme of things than the flight of a gnat to a hurricane. Humanity plays it's games, pretending like they have cosmic significance, when the monuments of even your greatest heroes will crumble to dust in a fraction of the time it took to bring the Earth from a coalescing ball of gas to a life-sustaining planet. The discomfort of the disciples was a teachable moment. I went on to teach them a divine truth - that in the Kingdom of God, servants and masters are terms of no meaning.
But what about you? Do you know what I have done to you?" Do you understand how much i've messed with humanity's business as usual? Your social groupings from governments to businesses to families all rely on differing levels of power. If you actually took to heart my message at the footwashing that all must serve all; If you internalized the message of the Holy Eucharist that everyone, whether king or pauper gets the same bread and wine which is my body and blood; your unjust structures would crumble. For all of you, that's a frightening concept.
Throughout history, those who love God have pointed out what I have done to you. Gandhi read my sermon on the mount in a way Christians never had before, and authored his method of non-violent resistance. Martin Luther King Jr. read Gandhi and brought his method to bear on American civil rights. Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu studied King's works to end apartheid. When people take what I have done seriously, Justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream. When people take what I have done seriously, hearts are changed and injustice becomes intolerable. In just 1500 years, the ancient, universal human institution of slavery went from being normative to being criminal. 2000 years after I died on the cross, no serious discussion of capital punishment occurs without my memory being invoked. As Martin Luther King once said, "The Arc of the Moral Universe is Long, but it bends towards justice." It began to bend when I washed the feet of the disciples.
Do you know what I am doing to you? Do you know what you are about to do? You are about to participate in my commandments. That's where the word "Maundy" comes from. From the Latin "Mandatum" or "Commandment." Be careful. These rites of footwashing and Holy Communion turn human expectations on their heads. They point out the folly of obsessions with power, wealth and security. If the true meaning of these rites make it through your shell of protection, they might alter you forever. You might find yourself transformed. You might be less fearful and protective. You might live more in the moment and in the joy of the abundant life you were created for.
Most of you don't make major decisions that affect huge numbers of people. But the aggregate action of people of good will working together is how the Arc of history is moved. As a character in one of your movies says, "It is the small things, the everyday deeds from ordinary folk, that keeps the darkness at bay." These rites on Maundy Thursday have that power, so beware. If you ask me for new life, for eternal life, for the water that will never leave you thirsty, I will give it to you. But you will not leave unchanged.
Do you know what I have done to you?
Yours Truly, Jesus Christ, a true lover of your soul
I received a question the other day from a prospective member about what the Episcopal Church believes about homosexuality. Do we think homosexuality is a sin? It's been a while since I addressed this particularly burning issue, and things have changed a lot in the church since then, so I thought I would give it a (lengthy) try.
The first thing to address in a question like that is the idea that a denomination has a unitive view of a particular issue. The Episcopal Church is a creedal church, rather than a confessional church. What this means is that historically, the Anglican tradition has not had any document with authority like the Ausburg Confession or the Greater Catechism of the Roman Catholic Church that defines finer points of doctrine. We adhere to the Apostles and Nicene Creeds, which define the dogmas of creation, incarnation, and resurrection and we hold to the teachings of the first five councils of the church. Our tradition has been historically broad, including catholic and protestant believers on a doctrinal axis, and liberal and conservative on a political axis. Our real focus of unity is worship. The definition of a member in good standing is one who is baptized, recieves communion at least three times a year, and gives in some manner to the life and work of the parish. While the creeds are utilized liturgically, there is no doctrinal "Litmus test", no required intellectual assent, for a believer to become a member. This has historically meant that people from all over the spectrum on a number of issues can find room in the Episcopal Church. I often tell people we are more like a family of churches rather than a single unitive denomination. So the answer would be that we probably have as many positions on a given issue as we do members.
The second is to address the specific issue of "homosexuality." "Homosexuality" is an orientation which is a product of either nature or nurture (or some combination thereof depending on who you are talking to) rather than an action, so that it in itself cannot be considered sinful. This is believed by most Christians, even those denominations that tend to be of a conservative bent. The orientation of being attracted to someone of the same sex has no moral content at all. The question is about homosexual behavior. That's an important distinction. Even the Roman Catholic Church will ordain candidates with a homosexual orientation if they are celibate. Some Christians claim that the Bible speaks directly against same-sex sexuality. I find those few passages that might have application to be vague and uncertain, and in any case, Christians have come to different understandings today about things such as lending at interest, slavery and the status of women that have much clearer discussion in the Bible.
Others will speak of the tradition of moral reasoning in the Christian Church. Once again, while it is clear that for the most of Christian History, the majority of Christians have seen homosexual behavior as sinful, that's really not a warrant to continue to maintain a unified doctrine in the face of new scienfitic knowledge and the development of moral thinking inside a church that prays for the guidance of the Holy Spirit. One only has to remember that large parts of the American church in both the North and South opposed abolition and interracial marriage and sometimes made convincing arguments from both the Bible and tradition to support their cause.
A helpful thing to address is, "What is being asked of the church?" The Episcopal Church is clear in one area - that people of every sexual orientation are beloved children of God and therefore have access to the Sacraments of Baptism and Eucharist. To say otherwise would be to imply that the nature of "being homosexual" obscures the image of God the person is made in. This is really not a matter of serious debate in the church anymore. The questions we have struggled with over the last few decades have been those of ordination and blessings of relationships. The debate on both of these boil down to questions of the innate sinfulness or not of same-sex behavior.
It's important to note here that sex itself is morally neutral in the abstract. It is the moral end the sex promotes and the situation in which it occurs that makes it possible to form a judgement. Matrimony is not a "sex license." Heterosexual sex that is physically or psychologically harmful can be considered sinful even if engaged in within the sacramental rite of Marriage. The church has traditionally held that all sexuality is best (if not only properly engaged in) within a lifelong, committed relationship, which developed over history into the Sacramental Rite of Holy Matrimony. (One has to remember that this is a fairly late development. Marriage was only gradually moved from being a purely civil affair to a religious one, only reaching it's current state in the late middle ages.) Some hold that this Sacramental Rite is only possible in the "Complimentary" natures of a male/female union. Others hold that the essential unity between a married couple is found in their humanity and being made in the image of God and is therefore independent of gender. Still others have posited that the moral goods of same-sex relationships are something different than those of traditional heterosexual marriage and look to base them on other models of lifelong commitment such as monastic profession. You will find people of all three opinions within the Episcopal Church and most likely within every congregation. The question of ordination follows the same argument. If clergy are expected to lead a lifestyle that is to be an example to the people they pastor, can they lead that life within a committed, same-sex relationship?
So where does that lead us? It's not really helpful to invoke the labels of the American cultural wars, which divide people into conservative and liberal camps. Neither one of those labels have origins within the Bible or tradition. Terms that have been used more successfully are those of "Traditionalists" and "Re-appraisers." Even these labels have their limitations - many Traditionalists follow newer worship models, while many Re-appraisers are very traditional and Anglo-Catholic in their worship. But for the sake of this issue, it's helpful to think of these two approaches to the Christian Tradition. Each values the tradition and the Bible, each affirms the creeds, and each prays to the triune God using the 1979 Book of Common Prayer, but each comes out in a different place on this issue.
Traditionalists see the church as a defense against dangerous innovation and cultural "relevancy." To them, the church is primarily about being a "Mighty Fortress - a bulwark never failing." Re-appraisers see the church primarily as a force for justice and inclusion - a force to redress human prejudice and wrong. To them, the church is about the "Holy Spirit ever forming in the Church the mind of Christ." Both read the same Bible, but come to it with different lenses through which to view it. There are some in both camps that believe this is an all-or-nothing proposition. For them, this issue is so important from either a purity or justice standpoint that agreement with their position on it trumps all other concerns.
I think this is an intrusion of the culture wars. Jesus prayed that his church be one. Catholicity (comprehensiveness) is not a way to avoid conflict - it's a way to hold humanly-constructed impressions of the ultimate truth in tension. Church is not about being around people that look like us and think like us. I could join a country club for that. It's about being in community with people you vehemently disagree with while still honoring the image of God they are made in. It's not about loving the sinner and hating the sin, because we're all sinners and humans historically have a real hard time dividing the two.
One of the problems with Protestantism is that once you decide that one thing is worth dividing the church over there is nothing to prevent the next thing from being a church-dividing issue. This is why there are thousands of denominations. Protestants in general and Episcopalians especially have over the last few decades started to re-approriate our catholicity. This has meant a lot of bi and tri-lateral ecumenical work. But even more so, it has caused us to question the underlying assumption that division over non-dogmatic theological scruples is God's will. If someone is willing to affirm the reality that "Christ has Died, Christ is Risen, Christ will come again" as articulated in the creeds, are we not brothers and sisters in Christ? And if so, while other issues might be important to us and worth sometimes heated debate, are they not of secondary importance to our essential unity in Christ? As Paul writes, "Has Christ been divided?" Certainly not!
So in light of the current issue, there are two major poles on a continuum - each with integral integrity, and each with people of faith who follow them. Christians find themselves in different places all along that continuum. It then behooves the church to be a space where people of good will can continue to encounter one another and work out the mind of Christ together. Compromise is often looked at as a dirty word in modern American culture. But compromise is neccessary for any human organization with diversity of any kind. Compromise means being tolerant in "less essentials" in order to preserve the "most essentials." Compromise is neccessary for Christian catholicity. Jesus' prayer that we all may be one cannot be fulfilled without compromise on human scruples.
In the Episcopal Church, the General Convention has provided tools and authorizations that allow decisions on how to manage this compromise to take place with the highest degree of local control (subsidiarity.) Diocesan Bishops may or may not allow their ordained ministers to celebrate rites of Same-sex blessing, and may or may not allow their ordained ministers to sign civil marriage licenses for same-sex couples. In the Diocese of Milwaukee, our bishop has provided a unique rite for ministers to bless the civil marriage of same-sex couples, but has declined to allow his ministers to sign civil marriage licenses in those cases. This compromise makes no one particularly happy. To those in favor of same-sex marriage, this feels like a second-class solution. To those opposed, it feels too much like Holy Matrimony which they hold to be only possible between people of different genders. Like all compromises, you can probably assume it's a real one when no one is completely happy with it.
So to conclude, the Episcopal Church does not have an "Official Position" on homosexuality or homosexual behavior. The people who make up the membership of the Episcopal Church hold a wide variety of opinions, and the church itself has a wide variety of practice. But we do affirm that all humans are made in the image of God and worthy of the Sacraments within a normative framework of administration. It is a time of compromise, discussion and discernment of the will of the Holy Spirit within our church.
Fr. David weaves in themes from Jonah and Narnia to a sermon reflecting on the state of St. Matthias Parish for the previous year.
The Christian Fairy Tale - We shouldn't be afraid to use this terminology. JRR Tolkien's academic work points out that what we now call "Fairy Tales" are the narratives that have traditionally given humanity a way to debate and pass on values. A Christmas Eve sermon.
Mary, The Magnificat, and My role in Racism. A sermon for 3rd Advent.
Of all the professors I had in seminary, The Rt. Rev. Mark Dyer was definitely the most unique and interesting.
Bishop Mark (as we called him) had a varied career which he was always ready to share. From his days as a naval aviator (which included flying nuclear failsafe missions) to his time as a Roman Catholic monk (where he worked with both Thomas Merton and Mother Theresa) to his Episcopal career in our church (which included major ecumenical accomplishments), Bishop Mark was larger than life, but as accessible as a favorite uncle.
Everyone used to joke that Bp Mark only had one class. Whether it was Ecumenical Theology or Patristics or Anglican Communion studies, they all tended to have the same content - mainly extended stories with a lot of name-dropping. He had a spot in the old chapel in the balcony which never varied by an inch, leading to one chapel prank involving traffic cones and police tape around that three feet of pew.
The most fascinating course I took in seminary was one that he co-taught with Dr. Ellen Davis on the Song of Songs. Dr. Davis handled the Hebrew and rabbinic teachings, and Bp. Mark taught us about medieval exegesis, including Bernard of Clairvaux. It was a simply amazing time of learning.
His major influence on me was Ecumenism. In his Ecumenical Theology class, we explored the major bilateral dialogues of the Anglican Communion and the Episcopal Church. His experience as the chair of the International Anglican-Orthodox dialogue gave him amazing insights into the process of finding shared theological space to built unity. I was fascinated with the way he merged his Anglo-Catholic Benedictine spirituality with the open ecumenical spirit, and much of my own spiritual journey has been influenced by him. After I left seminary, that love for the Faith and Order movement did not abate. I saw him at a meeting a few years after graduating and asked what study I should do to get involved. He said, "Don't study it - get in there and do it" - advice I have followed gratefully.
Even with our Christian Hope, it's sad when someone leaves us. Another influential figure is on the other side of the veil while the rest of us continue our human struggle. Rest in Peace, Bp. Mark. Many of us in the Anglican Communion and ecumenical movement are so much richer for having known you. You are the father of the ecumnical spirit within me, and I will always be in your debt.
A Sermon for St. Matthias' 170th Birthday. Since the early Episcopal missionary activity in Wisconsin under James Lloyd Breck, our church has been on the edge of change in the church. As we move forward, we must bring out all treasures old and new.
Render to the emperor what belongs to the emperor, and to God the things that are God's…
"It's Not Fair!!!!"
As I thought about the BLOGFORCE Challenge this week, a blog post I did on the passing of the Rev. Howard Surface in 2011 came to mind. I think it sums up everything I would want to say. I honestly believe that if it were not for the Episcopal Church, Howard, and all the excellent clergy and lay people I encountered on my journey, I would not have ever had a relationship with Jesus.
As Episcopalians, we don't often refer to ourselves as "evangelists." It brings up connotations of people knocking on doors with that "are you saved?" question we dread in the South. We think of people handing out tracts in airports, waiting to pounce with well-rehearsed points of doctrine. What we often don't think of is a pleasant man in a black suit and clerical collar sitting in a small office in a downtown church. But that's exactly what an evangelist looks like to me. His name was The Rev. Howard Surface.
I was in my mid-teens, and my stepfather had just become the organist at Christ Episcopal Church in Bowling Green. I had grown up believing in God and reading stories from the Bible, but I had also been very interested in science and reason. We didn't go to church as kids, so I had developed into a kind of Jeffersonian Deist, thankful to God for the creation, but thinking that our prayer had very little to do with our daily life. It's really wasn't all that different from Conan's god Crom, which fit in well with my life in the science-fiction/gaming subculture.
Growing up under the buckle of the Bible Belt means that you are exposed to a lot of different flavors of evangelical Christianity. It's a default in the culture - you can't escape being influenced by it in one way or the other. Several times in Scouts and other groups, I was encouraged to "Give my life to Jesus." I wanted God to be a personal force in my life, but I couldn't overcome my skepticism enough to connect. I tried multiple times to pray for Jesus to enter my life, but it never seemed to "take."
After my parents' divorce, church became a regular part of my life with both my mother and father. Before the Episcopal church, my stepfather had been the organist at a Methodist church, and I dutifully went there, but never really felt it to be a part of me. Initially, I didn't see a huge difference between Methodist and Episcopal, except that the sermons were shorter and you knew how much longer the service was going to be by simply following in the Book of Common Prayer. I liked that.
Soon after we started attending, my mother asked me if I wanted to be baptized. I wasn't sure, but I was willing to talk to Howard about it. We sat down and talked about baptism and the Apostles' Creed. I had a lot of trouble with the section on the virgin birth. My skeptical mind could not fathom how you could create a male human without an x and y chromosome. I explained this to Howard. I told him I was interested in Baptism, but that I couldn't give up my skepticism and be honest. He told me he'd be glad to baptize me, and that I should just keep saying the creed and the answer might come to me.
I was in this predicament because the culture had taught me to believe that everything that had to do with faith was about me. It was about a personal affirmation of intellectual belief in a series of formulated and agreed-upon doctrines. If I agreed with the doctrines of any given faith group, I could enter into a social contract and become a part of that church. If not, I would be defined as part of the group that did not agree to the truth, and therefore damned.
Howard showed me another way. Despite my doubts, I said the Nicene Creed in the "We" form every week. I became an active participant in the Holy Eucharist. I became interested in theology and Biblical studies. I found, over time, that God did not want me to give up my skepticism. He wanted me to be in relationship with Him and his church. It wasn't about making a set of intellectual affirmations, it was about being part of God's family. I came to believe that God has no human ego and therefore does not mind being doubted. I saw the love that God has for me and for all of creation. Once it was no longer a contest between my mind and abstract doctrine, my resistance slowly receded and I was able to claim the beauty and philosophical poetry of the creeds as being part of me. I am now a Christian and a priest because I was offered this other way.
Howard didn't quote scripture at me. He didn't lecture me on points of doctrine. He didn't bring up hell, or even heaven for that matter. He simply modeled God's love through community, and provided good soil and spiritual food for my young faith to grow. He embodied the admonition often attributed to St. Francis to "Preach the gospel at all times. Use words if necessary." He was an evangelist of grace, creating a space where skeptics and agnostics could come to find Jesus' love.
Howard passed on to his glory this week, and he will be sorely missed. Many still remember his standard Easter sermon, or his somewhat authoritarian way of instructing the faithful what posture they were to assume in prayer. But I will always remember that afternoon in his office, when like Paul at the Areopagus, he offered me the Gospel for the first time in a language I could understand and accept. Were it not for him, my life would have turned out very different. For that, I am literally eternally grateful.
May the souls of the faithful departed, especially that of Howard, my father in Christ, rest in peace. Amen.
The Episcopal Church is necessary because there are some people, like me, that would never hear the Gospel if it were not proclaimed the manner we do it. I don't believe this is exclusive. I'm sure there are others that feel the same way about the Roman Catholic, Orthodox, or Lutheran ways. The diversity of Christianity is not a scandal, it is its strength. It only becomes a problem when we don't recognize that.
Dear Scotland,
As you approach your momentous vote for or against independence from Great Britain, I wanted to assure you of the support of Scottish-Americans for you no matter what your choice will be. I want to be specific. I pledge to you, on behalf, of the American diaspora, that the following behaviors will continue indefinitely:
Scotland the Brave, we will still love our idealized version of you no matter how you vote.
Why Anglicanism? Because the genius of Anglicanism is that it is by definition a temporary state of affairs.
Ever since seminary, I have been deeply interested in Ecumenism. How do we see ourselves as part of the wider Christian family? How do we interact with Christians of different cultures and confessions? As I thought about our BLOGFORCE challenge this week, I kept coming back to this. When the Church of England was formed by Henry VIII, it was not intended to be the "true" church, or the "only" church, or even the most correct church. It was intended to be the branch of the catholic church in England, holding to the faith as had been delivered unto that nation. Despite some periods of pressure for a more confessional doctrine, Anglicanism has remained by and large a "creedal" church, insisting that her dogma only contain what was agreed in the formative councils of the church before the Great Schism. Anglicanism has often maintained we are the BEST way to be Christian (I mean, why would you be a part of something that you don't think is the best?), but we have never maintained we were the ONLY way to be Christian.
Indeed, Anglicanism has such a great diversity of worship and doctrine that even inside national churches, we are more like a family of churches with some commonalities than a single denominational family. Our liturgy is mostly Western, but our sacramental theologies draw evenly from Western and Eastern sources, while our ecclesiology is much more similar to the Eastern model. Because of this diversity and flexibility, Anglicanism has been in the forefront of the Ecumenical Movement. In 1888, the Lambeth Conference passed the following resolution:
Lambeth Conference of 1888
Resolution 11
That, in the opinion of this Conference, the following Articles supply a basis on which approach may be by God's blessing made towards Home Reunion:
(a) The Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, as "containing all things necessary to salvation," and as being the rule and ultimate standard of faith.
(b) The Apostles' Creed, as the Baptismal Symbol; and the Nicene Creed, as the sufficient statement of the Christian faith.
© The two Sacraments ordained by Christ Himself—Baptism and the Supper of the Lord—ministered with unfailing use of Christ's words of Institution, and of the elements ordained by Him.
(d) The Historic Episcopate, locally adapted in the methods of its administration to the varying needs of the nations and peoples called of God into the Unity of His Church.
This was a unique document at the time. It is not anything less than a confession that we believe Anglicanism to be a temporary state of affairs. By setting forth criteria that we could agree on for "Home Reunion" (read merger) with other churches that held much less than the full breadth of Anglican theology (For instance, where are the 5 Sacramental Rites? Or the three-fold ordained ministry?), we effectively put in writing that unity with other churches was much more important than the cultural/theological construct of modern Anglicanism. In short, unbecoming who we are for the sake of Christ is who we are. While Anglicanism is no doubt guilty of the sin of pride, I believe there is a core of humility in the Anglican ethos. It is that core that gives us a unique role in the worldwide catholic church.
This was my sermon for 9/7/14, after a difficult pastoral week.
Today In Newport, Wales they gather,
Allies forged by the Second War To End All Wars.
An almost giddy feeling pervades the gathering
As the menacing bear threatens again from the East
Reviving old bonds and strengthening new ones.
Brass blares, and salutes snap, and flags flap in the Welsh breeze.
Modern bards sing the sagas of the last century -
Ragnorak avoided but threat only delayed
As giants still menace with their axes and hammers.
Brave rhetoric and proud promises.
Military pomp and political circumstance.
In the end, despite all the lofty bombast,
it may boil down to men in foxholes
packed together against a mortar attack
huddled to hold onto their humanity laid bare.
Today is the feast day of Paul Jones, bishop of the missionary district of Utah
in the Year of our Lord 1917.
As the country entered into the first War To End All Wars
He felt the prick of conscience.
"War is unchristian" he spoke.
Something he seemed to have heard from an ancient backwoods preacher.
Spittle in the eyes of the establishment.
Meant to heal, but taken as threat.
A bishop as Secret Service mark,
A threat of hot tar and feathers.
An eventual demand from his Apostle peers
that he resign his chair to resolve their discomfort.
He meekly accepted, while the church promoted going "Over There."
In the end, despite all the casuistry,
it boiled down to men in foxholes
packed together against a mortar attack
huddled to hold onto their humanity laid bare.
While reading about Jones, the cell rings.
"It's my brother." the voice gasps.
A veteran of the latest War to End All Wars,
His wound was not physical, but it infected and grew
Until it took his life as surely as a bullet or knife.
"My husband… My son… My brother… My friend…"
A post-conflict casualty of our invisible wars,
pre-empted by the Kardashians,
interrupted by commercial breaks.
Rite of church, snap of flag, crack of rifles,
"On behalf of a Grateful Nation."
In the end, despite all the promises of glory,
it boiled down to men in foxholes
packed together against a mortar attack
huddled to hold onto their humanity laid bare.
Some remained in the foxholes, some left.
Some walked away, but still linger.
While the colors are furled and cased,
The drums and bugles silent,
The arms stacked,
The casualty count still continues.
In Moscow and Wales, the world dreams of future glory,
and still more foxholes.
O Lord,
You who told Peter to sheathe his sword,
You whom we hung high upon the cross,
You who looks upon us with pity and not with blame.
Save us from ourselves.
Make our strife and struggles to cease.
Inspire us to fight no more forever.
Bring us together to stand against the attack of the Enemy who divides.
Gather us to heal our humanity laid bare.
A special thanks to seminary friend and poet Elizabeth Leigh Hadaway, who gave me great feedback.
A BLOGFORCE challenge for reflections on the new paper on church governance.
I have often thought that some of my best formation on learning to preach the story of Jesus came from my time as a GameMaster.
So, "Why the Church?" is our BLOGFORCE topic for the week. The answer, I think, is fairly simple. It's found at the end of Matthew's Gospel, "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age." The Church's Raison d'être is non complex. It is to proclaim the message of Jesus to all, whether it's someone who has heard the message or one who has never heard it before. It is to remember that Jesus is always with us. But, much like the answer generated by Deep Thought in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the real problem is, "What is the question?" What is the issue or condition that the existence of the Church purports to solve? Why should we proclaim the Good News? Different parts of the church frame the question differently.
For me, it has to do with a relationship with God, which is the state we are intended to be in. We thrive as human beings when we are in such a state. In all human cultures, there is an awareness that we are not where we need to be in regards to this. In some cultures, this takes the form of taboos. In cultures with monotheism, we tend to talk of a concept of sin. The myths in the book of Genesis address this. What's the nature of sin? In Eden, the offense is disobedience and striving to become gods ourselves. Yet, that sin is tempered by the fact that without that original offense, much of what makes us human would never have existed. For this reason, many Jewish scholars speak of an "Upward Fall." I think the real crux is the next extension. Since we are more "god-like" in knowledge, we also have the right to make judgments of life and death. The myth of the murder of Abel by Cain is (as Rene Girard would say) the "Founding Myth" that establishes the cycle of envy and violence that is at the core of human consciousness. Civilization did not change that. In fact, it only systematized and formalized the cycle using the idea of sacrifice. Even secular societies require sacrifice for coherence. For proof, see Thomas Jefferson's popular quote: "The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants." As humans, we require sacrifice to reconcile our confused hearts. This works subconsciously. It cannot function fully when we are aware of it.
Jesus turns that on it's head. In his life, Jesus refuses to play along with human concepts of blame and sacrifice. On the cross, Jesus is sacrificed by both temporal (Roman) and religious (Judean) authority in order to maintain societal peace, just like thousands before him. The difference is, he is not only blameless, but God as well as human. His resurrection is not simply Jesus coming back to life, but a refutation by God of the entire idea of sacrifice. (Ps 50: "Do I eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the blood of goats?") Jesus is not sacrificed because God requires blood. As Julian of Norwich wrote, "Then spoke our good Lord Jesus Christ, asking: 'Art thou well satisfied that I suffered for thee?'"[1] Jesus dies because humanity requires sacrifice. His thwarting of human will begins a cycle of divine non-violence that coincides and competes with the human cycle of violence, subverting it and growing in power.
The church, in short, is intended to serve God, whom is non-violent love. It is to be both the temple that enshrines the Godly cycle of non-violence (a priestly role), and the mouth and hands that enact this cycle in the world (a diaconal role). We are to remember He is with us, even to the end of the age, and we are to proclaim the message that our human need for sacrifice of each other on a physical, emotional, and spiritual level is a false god. The sacraments serve this end, proclaiming inclusion for all who call upon Jesus (Baptism) and a bloodless re-participation in Jesus' singular cycle-destroying sacrifice (Eucharist.)
Does the church always live up to this mission? By no means. It is founded in divinity, but also in humanity. It fails regularly and spectacularly. It is often compromised just like any other human institution. It buys into human narratives of race and class. It becomes so sure of itself that it can't see the speck of dust in its own eye. It refuses to listen to the critique of the voices of God's children outside its own walls. Most of all, when it becomes preoccupied with the one thing Jesus seemed to be least obsessed with - his own suffering - the church can stop being a temple to love and become a sustainer of the very violence Jesus taught against. The church is not intended to fixate on Jesus' death at the hands of human violence, but on his resurrection at the hands of a loving God.
Why the Church? Because God is the only effective antidote to human violence and preoccupation with death. The Church, when doing it's job right, proclaims the fact that death is already dead, and that all our human peccadillos and atrocities that flow from the fear of death are false. When we get it right, we stand against violence in our culture and in our own hearts, whether that is to others or to ourselves.
Julian of Norwich (2011–03–30). Revelations of Divine Love (Paraclete Essentials) (Kindle Locations 835–836). Paraclete Press. Kindle Edition. ↩
I've been a Chief Election Inspector in the City of Waukesha for about three years now. People often ask me questions about the nitty gritty of the election process. One I hear a lot has to do with primary elections, which is timely because one is coming up tuesday. A parishioner asked me today, "Why can't I vote how I want to next Tuesday?" What he was asking was why he can't vote in the democratic primary for governor and the republican primary for sherrif. This is important because in Waukesha County, the Republican Primary often determines a local election. The Democrats may not even field a candidate in the fall General Election. I think it's easier to explain by talking about what it's like in my home state of Kentucky.
In Kentucky, they don't have open primaries. This means that when you register to vote, you must declare a party affiliation. Most people are Republicans or Democrats, although there are some Libertarians, Greens, etc. as well. You can also declare Independent, but that basically means you don't get to vote in primaries. When you arrive at a polling place, you state your name and the poll workers look you up in the poll books. Next, they state out loud your party affiliation. You are then handed a ballot that only has the candidates from the party you have registered in on it. This shows the nature of a primary. It is not a "public" election in many ways. It is the gathering of a political party to decide which candidate they are going to send forward to the General election. It is in the State's best interest to run these elections to keep the process accountable and above board. It is also in the state's best interest to have all the primaries at the same time to cut costs.
In some states like Wisconsin there are "Open" primaries, meaning all candidates are on one ballot. This saves all sorts of trouble due to mis-registration and cuts ballot printing costs. HOWEVER, the election is still a primary. It is effectively a group of separate intra-party elections held at the same time. While it may appear that the Waukesha County Sheriff's race is determined this Tuesday, the choice will be which candidate the Republicans have on the ballot in November. The fact that the Democrats may not even field a candidate in November does not change the nature of the election.
So, if you walk into a polling place on Tuesday and mark a ballot with votes in more than one party, the optical-scan machine will reject it as a cross-vote. By voting in a primary, you are declaring that (at least for Tuesday) you are a member or supporter of a particular political party. By definition, you can't participate in more than one party's internal political process. You are not being denied a right to vote or having your choices narrowed. In fact, an open primary increases your choice by allowing you to choose on election day which primary you wish to vote in rather than requiring you make that choice semi-permanently when you register to vote.
A sermon using Jesus' Parable of the Weeds & the Wheat, The Simpsons, and the Jesus of Sinai icon to explore divine mercy and judgement.

subset: commoncrawl