In recent days the thought occurred to me that I should write a letter, send an email, or call on the telephone the members of Congress - representative and senators - that supposedly speak and vote on my behalf in Washington. The issue on my mind was the defiance of GOP members regarding the President's Supreme Court nominee.
I chose not to follow through, though, knowing full well it would be futile. None of them sees things as I see them, and my feeble protests might or might not be noted by the 22 year-olds in their offices assigned to keep track of such things.
Next up was a state issue, H.B. 2, an emergency-session North Carolina legislature action taken to make sure people don't pee in the wrong bathrooms (according to state law). Added to that was the restriction on local governments to prevent them from extending rights to LGBT folks.
Again, I thought of contacting the governor and my assigned representatives, but just as quickly I dismissed the notion. There would be no point to it. I was heartened, however, to read a column in Sunday's local paper that clearly articulated the vanity of the legislature's decree.
Watching the news and reading relevant publications I sometimes lament the lack of influence of thoughtful people of faith who take up Jesus' priorities of justice, peace, and the worthiness of all people. Have we failed to provide the witness given to us? Do we have anything positive to contribute to public issues? Are we frightened? Are we too self-centered or overly focused on "going to heaven?"
Of course, candidates and office-holders often make a public spectacle of their religious convictions, which so often seem to coincide with the choices that would be made by white, male, wealthy, dominant-culture types afraid of slipping down from their perch on the top of the heap. There rarely appears to be any relevance to the teachings or example of Jesus. I guess saying something is "Christian" makes it appealing or palatable to folks who are scared.
There always is a debate churning about the role of religion in politics. Some confuse this with the idea of the separation of church and state. And, of course, there are folks who maintain, and can "prove," that America (or, the United States, as it is more properly referred to) is a Christian Nation by design of the Founding Fathers. Try talking a true believer out of that idea!
In any case, I feel sorely frustrated by the current realities regarding how people of good will and faith can relate to our political process. While I never bought into the notion that salvation can be achieved through engagement with politics and government, I have done my bit in the past to advocate for fairness, equity, inclusion, and peace.
It can be a lonely endeavor, especially for a pastor. Most of the folks in the pews won't get involved for a variety of reasons. Preaching can be a delicate issue, as well, in mainline congregations when it comes to trying to address the significant concerns of the world. Clergy sometimes lose perspective in seeking to be 'prophetic,' and church members have a different agenda for coming to worship, i.e., comfort and escape from the pressures of day-to-day living. As I was once told, the people want to be "uplifted," rather than reminded that Jesus sacrificed his very life on behalf of the poor, the abused, the exploited, and the hated.
During a particularly active period in this realm for me I was fortunate to meet a few folks who shared my convictions and faith perspective. We were able to encourage one another, and to band together to act in some meaningful ways. Another positive factor in our case was the presence of a member of Congress who actually gave us fair hearing regarding our concerns.
I learned a lot during those years that I am happy to share with any who would "speak truth to power."
-- Finding fellow travelers is essential. There is strength in numbers, and the support you give to one another is vital in the face of the guaranteed frustration, disappointment, and failure.
-- Be positive in your witness. Instead of always lamenting and criticizing, offer a positive vision.
-- Respect those with whom you disagree. Caricatures and insults do nothing for your position.
-- Know what you're talking about. Be informed and up-to-date on the issue of concern.
-- Recognize the complexity of issues, but remain firm in your convictions.
-- In dealing with the media, respond to questions by sharing the points you wish to make, regardless of what they ask. In most cases, reporters and journalists simply are trying to get you to state your position, but may not know the right questions to ask. Help them succeed.
-- Visit members of Congress in your home district office. You are more likely to meet him or her personally than if you go to Washington. This helps you develop a relationship with that person.
-- When visiting a member of Congress, always: be on time for the appointment; BE POLITE; make it clear who you represent and why the issue is important to you/them; mention any common ground on issues you may have with the member; state your concern clearly and succinctly; BE POLITE; offer alternative positions or actions regarding your disagreements; suggest ways to follow-up on your conversation; BE POLITE; thank the member for taking time to meet with you. Never: insult, ridicule, cajole, threaten, or express other negative behaviors. It only gives that person a reason to dismiss you, your position, and concern.
-- Plan public events that raise awareness about your issue. Press conferences, public forums, workshops, conferences, etc. help you to share your concerns. Letters to the editor, and guest columns in local newspapers get the word out, as well.
-- Try to build coalitions with groups and individuals who share similar concerns.
-- Encourage members of your church to learn about and engage with the issues through group discussions, letter-writing campaigns, and volunteering with organizations dealing with your concerns.
-- Spend time in prayer, and pay attention to scripture. Your understanding, conviction, and passion can easily spin out of control if you lay aside the original source of inspiration for your vision. Again, you are well-served to make this a group endeavor.
Personally, I never understood how faith communities could exist only for and unto themselves, but it happens.
If you have a broader vision of the church and its possibilities, I pray that God will strengthen and embolden you, and that your faithful efforts to be a witness to God's will for abundant life for all of God's creatures will find receptive hearts.
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Saturday, March 26, 2016
I Certainly Hope So (or, Easter Gets One's Attention)
A recent television ad for a new movie titled, Risen, included the claim that it was faithful to the Biblical account of Jesus' resurrection. It didn't say, however, to which Biblical account it was referring. Because if someone were to read the four Gospels he or she would discover that each tells a different story. Check it out if you don't believe me.
None, of course, mention lilies, or bunnies, or eggs, or ham, or new clothes for the children. There is no encouragement for those who otherwise never attend church (except for perhaps on Christmas Eve) to get their hind ends into a pew on that special Sunday. Parades and big hats for the ladies came about much later.
What we do see, though, in all of the Gospel accounts of the story, is the most emphatic expression of the underlying truth that stitches together the entirety of the Biblical witness: God makes all things new.
For some reason, this Easter I find myself thinking about my dear departed friend from seminary days named Clark. We didn't know each other prior to our meeting up in Indianapolis. In fact, we were different in numerous ways. He was from the West Coast, I was from the East Coast. He was somewhat conservative, probably willing to vote for Republicans. Me...well... I was athletic and aware of goings-on in professional sports, Clark had no interest. I could go on, but the point is, we arrived in Indiana at the same place and time, and before long became as close as brothers.
One year he was awarded the prestigious Annual Alumni Fund Scholarship, the big prize at Honors Day at the seminary, and I got it the next year. We weren't in many classes together, but often would go to an underground archive room at the library to study and write papers. Neither of us bothered with note cards or outlines or any other techniques recommended for composing term papers. We just carried our typewriters (yes, it was that long ago) and some paper to the archive room and banged them out.
After graduating from seminary, Clark settled right there in Indiana, I headed on down the highway. But, he and I were in each other's weddings, we used to make cassette (and later, video) tapes to send to each other. On occasion, although rarely, we visited. And of course, there were telephone calls, but they, too, were rare.
One time, though, Clark called me from the hospital in Fort Wayne where he was a patient. I was in Florida. He never made a direct appeal, but something about his demeanor set off frightening alarms in my head. Clark suffered from diabetes since he was a teenager, and over the years after seminary had lost both legs below the knee. He had some vision difficulties, kidney trouble, and probably other health problems I never heard about. Without fail, Clark remained upbeat, and even made light of it at times. On this occasion, though, I knew something was dreadfully wrong, even though he never said so.
Before long, I was on a plane to Indiana, arriving after he was discharged from the hospital. (Of course, someone from my church floated a rumor that the real reason for my trip was to apply for another job. As usual, she was wrong. Although, I must say, it was not a bad idea..)
I spent a couple of days with Clark, appalled at what his life had become (I will spare the details here), but glad to reconnect face-to-face. Clark was his usual carefree self, but I knew he was glad I correctly interpreted his signals and made the trip to see him one last time.
A few months later I received word from one of Clark's sons that he was dead from a heart attack while undergoing kidney dialysis. He just drifted off as he was receiving his regular treatment. Another trip to Indiana was required.
I'm not sure why this has all come back to me now, at Easter. May 9 will mark seven years since Clark's passing. But I do know that even as I recall those unhappy days seven years ago, framing it all in the context of the Easter observance gives a sense of hope. Clark truly was a person of faith, and I am sure that contributed to his attitude in the face of his suffering.
The hope, witness and promise of scripture that God makes all things new is the message that seeks to emerge in the midst of all our distracting traditions and celebrations. It's impossible to understand the depth of God (another topic for many other days!), but as I see it, Easter gives us the opportunity to focus upon and proclaim the word that nothing inhibits God's determination that life prevails over death, that suffering and pain do come to an end, and as both the prophet Isaiah and the Book of Revelation tell us, "every tear shall be wiped from their eyes. Mourning and crying shall be no more."
When? Where? How? God's ways are not our ways, God's thoughts are not our thoughts. But the promise is consistent and sure. All things are made new. By God. That includes Clark's life, and mine, and yours.
Put that in your Easter basket!
None, of course, mention lilies, or bunnies, or eggs, or ham, or new clothes for the children. There is no encouragement for those who otherwise never attend church (except for perhaps on Christmas Eve) to get their hind ends into a pew on that special Sunday. Parades and big hats for the ladies came about much later.
What we do see, though, in all of the Gospel accounts of the story, is the most emphatic expression of the underlying truth that stitches together the entirety of the Biblical witness: God makes all things new.
For some reason, this Easter I find myself thinking about my dear departed friend from seminary days named Clark. We didn't know each other prior to our meeting up in Indianapolis. In fact, we were different in numerous ways. He was from the West Coast, I was from the East Coast. He was somewhat conservative, probably willing to vote for Republicans. Me...well... I was athletic and aware of goings-on in professional sports, Clark had no interest. I could go on, but the point is, we arrived in Indiana at the same place and time, and before long became as close as brothers.
One year he was awarded the prestigious Annual Alumni Fund Scholarship, the big prize at Honors Day at the seminary, and I got it the next year. We weren't in many classes together, but often would go to an underground archive room at the library to study and write papers. Neither of us bothered with note cards or outlines or any other techniques recommended for composing term papers. We just carried our typewriters (yes, it was that long ago) and some paper to the archive room and banged them out.
After graduating from seminary, Clark settled right there in Indiana, I headed on down the highway. But, he and I were in each other's weddings, we used to make cassette (and later, video) tapes to send to each other. On occasion, although rarely, we visited. And of course, there were telephone calls, but they, too, were rare.
One time, though, Clark called me from the hospital in Fort Wayne where he was a patient. I was in Florida. He never made a direct appeal, but something about his demeanor set off frightening alarms in my head. Clark suffered from diabetes since he was a teenager, and over the years after seminary had lost both legs below the knee. He had some vision difficulties, kidney trouble, and probably other health problems I never heard about. Without fail, Clark remained upbeat, and even made light of it at times. On this occasion, though, I knew something was dreadfully wrong, even though he never said so.
Before long, I was on a plane to Indiana, arriving after he was discharged from the hospital. (Of course, someone from my church floated a rumor that the real reason for my trip was to apply for another job. As usual, she was wrong. Although, I must say, it was not a bad idea..)
I spent a couple of days with Clark, appalled at what his life had become (I will spare the details here), but glad to reconnect face-to-face. Clark was his usual carefree self, but I knew he was glad I correctly interpreted his signals and made the trip to see him one last time.
A few months later I received word from one of Clark's sons that he was dead from a heart attack while undergoing kidney dialysis. He just drifted off as he was receiving his regular treatment. Another trip to Indiana was required.
I'm not sure why this has all come back to me now, at Easter. May 9 will mark seven years since Clark's passing. But I do know that even as I recall those unhappy days seven years ago, framing it all in the context of the Easter observance gives a sense of hope. Clark truly was a person of faith, and I am sure that contributed to his attitude in the face of his suffering.
The hope, witness and promise of scripture that God makes all things new is the message that seeks to emerge in the midst of all our distracting traditions and celebrations. It's impossible to understand the depth of God (another topic for many other days!), but as I see it, Easter gives us the opportunity to focus upon and proclaim the word that nothing inhibits God's determination that life prevails over death, that suffering and pain do come to an end, and as both the prophet Isaiah and the Book of Revelation tell us, "every tear shall be wiped from their eyes. Mourning and crying shall be no more."
When? Where? How? God's ways are not our ways, God's thoughts are not our thoughts. But the promise is consistent and sure. All things are made new. By God. That includes Clark's life, and mine, and yours.
Put that in your Easter basket!
Thursday, March 24, 2016
Maundy Thursday 2016
Christian congregations and groups around the world today commemorate the Last Supper with worship services that include communion, prayers, hymns, varying degrees of light and darkness, and, in some cases, foot-washing. The services focus on the night Jesus met with his disciples in the upper room, presumably to share in a Passover Seder. The meal turned into something else, however, as Jesus told them to remember him when they gathered to eat and drink.
This alone might have been confusing enough to the disciples, but scripture tells us that Jesus also asserted that one of them would betray him, and that Peter, perhaps the most dominant and vocal disciple, would deny numerous times even knowing Jesus. This meal occurred just hours before Jesus spent time in the Garden of Gethsemane agonizing over the inevitability of his arrest and execution.
So, many of this evening's worship services will strike a somber chord among those who attend, and will conclude with everyone encouraged to depart in silence.
Fine. Do that.
But, it all will wear off soon enough, even if some go through the somewhat traditional Good Friday exercise of three-hour services the next day.
One of the things about the season of Lent that bothers me is the remarkably small impact it has on people who even take the time to observe it. For instance, the notion of "giving up something for Lent" often is trivialized. Some give up dessert or chocolate. Maybe it's caffeine. Or they don't engage in some activity or avocation they find enjoyable. But what happens when Lent concludes? Everything returns to "normal," and the "fasting" is over. So, nothing changes.
Easter is a celebratory time but, like with Christmas, cultural intrusions refocus many of us on irrelevancies. In my days as a pastor I tried not to be a spoilsport, but I either found ways to avoid participating in activities like Easter egg hunts and going through contortions to assign "Christian" meanings to secular traditions, or simply did not offer encouragement or enthusiasm for such things. My hope always was that deeper significance would be discovered or recovered.
Something that occupies a bit of my time these days seems to relate to Maundy Thursday. As a volunteer worker at a food bank that serves 16 counties, a lot of food passes through my hands. My work involves receiving pallets of donated food as it is unloaded off the trucks that bring it to the food bank from grocery stores and other sources. Usually, the pallets have 30 or so boxes of food on them, and with other volunteers, I sort through the boxes, separating items, and restacking them on other pallets. Our categories of items are produce, bread, bakery, frozen salvage, refrigerated salvage, dry salvage, and meat. It's impossible for me to imagine how many tons of food show up at the loading docks each month. It's also unfathomable for me to think that if the food bank or some similar organization did not exist, most of that food would be wasted in the face of so many people who are lacking adequate resources to have enough to eat.
The food bank where I volunteer recently marked the distribution of the one millionth food pack created for children in need to take home from school on Fridays because otherwise they would have little or no food until they returned to school on Monday. Summers are especially difficult for many families with children. Seniors on limited incomes, as well as those who are unemployed or underemployed, also benefit from food banks that help distribute food to soup kitchens and local food pantries in churches and other places.
For me, the connection of all of this with Maundy Thursday is that Jesus chose a meal as the means by which he told his followers to remember him. I believe that God's will is life abundant for all people, and the most basic aspect of that is adequate food.
So often it appears that people are worried there isn't enough (I always heard that in the church, of all places!). Yet, the witness of scripture and the evidence of the world is that there is abundance. We are just too self-absorbed to realize it. Our culture teaches us to compete and get ahead and accumulate, with little to no regard for the well-being of others. If someone else has less they are stupid or uneducated or lazy. Society is made up of winners and losers, and we want to do anything we can to be winners, as defined by our culture.
Jesus took a piece of bread and said, "Remember me when you eat bread together." He poured wine into a cup and said, "This is a covenant of my blood, poured out for the forgiveness of sins." As I understand it, sin is separation from God, so the covenant of which Jesus spoke is a coming together with God and, consequently, with our sisters and brothers.
Maundy Thursday reminds us that yes, Jesus sacrificed a lot. He suffered a lot. And it says to us, I believe, there were reasons for that sacrifice and suffering that are wrapped up in the deepest of human needs and realities.
If we remember Jesus around meals, in handling and making use of food, we cannot help but to think beyond ourselves. We cannot help but to realize abundant life is God's desire. We cannot help but to understand changes in our attitudes, outlook, and actions are in order, not just for a few weeks in the springtime, but moving forward.
Maundy Thursday is a sobering observance on so many levels, but it holds the promise of great joy, for life and the world do not have to remain as we experience them now. Inch by inch, moment by moment, day by day, awareness by awareness, spiritual step by spiritual step, we can live into a fuller embrace of the truth of God's abundance.
Not only for ourselves, but for all whose lives we, as people transformed, might touch.
This alone might have been confusing enough to the disciples, but scripture tells us that Jesus also asserted that one of them would betray him, and that Peter, perhaps the most dominant and vocal disciple, would deny numerous times even knowing Jesus. This meal occurred just hours before Jesus spent time in the Garden of Gethsemane agonizing over the inevitability of his arrest and execution.
So, many of this evening's worship services will strike a somber chord among those who attend, and will conclude with everyone encouraged to depart in silence.
Fine. Do that.
But, it all will wear off soon enough, even if some go through the somewhat traditional Good Friday exercise of three-hour services the next day.
One of the things about the season of Lent that bothers me is the remarkably small impact it has on people who even take the time to observe it. For instance, the notion of "giving up something for Lent" often is trivialized. Some give up dessert or chocolate. Maybe it's caffeine. Or they don't engage in some activity or avocation they find enjoyable. But what happens when Lent concludes? Everything returns to "normal," and the "fasting" is over. So, nothing changes.
Easter is a celebratory time but, like with Christmas, cultural intrusions refocus many of us on irrelevancies. In my days as a pastor I tried not to be a spoilsport, but I either found ways to avoid participating in activities like Easter egg hunts and going through contortions to assign "Christian" meanings to secular traditions, or simply did not offer encouragement or enthusiasm for such things. My hope always was that deeper significance would be discovered or recovered.
Something that occupies a bit of my time these days seems to relate to Maundy Thursday. As a volunteer worker at a food bank that serves 16 counties, a lot of food passes through my hands. My work involves receiving pallets of donated food as it is unloaded off the trucks that bring it to the food bank from grocery stores and other sources. Usually, the pallets have 30 or so boxes of food on them, and with other volunteers, I sort through the boxes, separating items, and restacking them on other pallets. Our categories of items are produce, bread, bakery, frozen salvage, refrigerated salvage, dry salvage, and meat. It's impossible for me to imagine how many tons of food show up at the loading docks each month. It's also unfathomable for me to think that if the food bank or some similar organization did not exist, most of that food would be wasted in the face of so many people who are lacking adequate resources to have enough to eat.
The food bank where I volunteer recently marked the distribution of the one millionth food pack created for children in need to take home from school on Fridays because otherwise they would have little or no food until they returned to school on Monday. Summers are especially difficult for many families with children. Seniors on limited incomes, as well as those who are unemployed or underemployed, also benefit from food banks that help distribute food to soup kitchens and local food pantries in churches and other places.
For me, the connection of all of this with Maundy Thursday is that Jesus chose a meal as the means by which he told his followers to remember him. I believe that God's will is life abundant for all people, and the most basic aspect of that is adequate food.
So often it appears that people are worried there isn't enough (I always heard that in the church, of all places!). Yet, the witness of scripture and the evidence of the world is that there is abundance. We are just too self-absorbed to realize it. Our culture teaches us to compete and get ahead and accumulate, with little to no regard for the well-being of others. If someone else has less they are stupid or uneducated or lazy. Society is made up of winners and losers, and we want to do anything we can to be winners, as defined by our culture.
Jesus took a piece of bread and said, "Remember me when you eat bread together." He poured wine into a cup and said, "This is a covenant of my blood, poured out for the forgiveness of sins." As I understand it, sin is separation from God, so the covenant of which Jesus spoke is a coming together with God and, consequently, with our sisters and brothers.
Maundy Thursday reminds us that yes, Jesus sacrificed a lot. He suffered a lot. And it says to us, I believe, there were reasons for that sacrifice and suffering that are wrapped up in the deepest of human needs and realities.
If we remember Jesus around meals, in handling and making use of food, we cannot help but to think beyond ourselves. We cannot help but to realize abundant life is God's desire. We cannot help but to understand changes in our attitudes, outlook, and actions are in order, not just for a few weeks in the springtime, but moving forward.
Maundy Thursday is a sobering observance on so many levels, but it holds the promise of great joy, for life and the world do not have to remain as we experience them now. Inch by inch, moment by moment, day by day, awareness by awareness, spiritual step by spiritual step, we can live into a fuller embrace of the truth of God's abundance.
Not only for ourselves, but for all whose lives we, as people transformed, might touch.
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