Plymouth Creek’s vision remains- To become a beacon of Christian openness and service. It’s about shining our joy about God’s grace through acts of compassion and inclusive faith.
And one way we’ve put that in practice recently involves conversation with local Muslims. A little background: Nearly two years ago, the Northwest Islamic Community Center purchased a building nearby church. They wanted a dedicated space in which to pray, fellowship, serve and teach their children. We stood with them at the City Council as less open neighbors tried to block the acquisition. It seemed to us that God’s love as we meet in Jesus urges us toward hospitality, not judgment.
Ever since, I’ve had multiple occasions to spend time with some of their leaders. Most recently, NWICC began hosting whomever would come for interfaith conversation. Islam 101, they dubbed it, acknowledging that many don’t much about their faith tradition, so many untruths have been spread. A couple of us went to the first of these “classes” to learn and show support.
Last week, a second conversation was moderated by NWICC board member Tamim, a dear man. The topic was “Jesus in Islam”, in honor of our approaching Easter holiday. Perhaps you didn’t know this, but the Muslim holy book- the Qur’an- mentions Jesus over twenty times. It speaks of Christ’s birth, echoing the gospels claims that it was miraculous, a virgin birth. It tells some of Christ’s teachings on compassion and love, citing stories of his healing prowess. There’s even mention of the crucifixion, though in this respect, our faiths diverge strongly. The Qur’an contends that Jesus didn’t die; he only seemed to by people of the day. Instead, he was taken into heaven and lives still, awaiting a second coming. The Christian Bible, by contrast, makes Jesus’ death a central element, claiming that our path to salvation and trust in eternal grace require that resurrection happened, however mysteriously.
Tamim knows that, of course, but as a faithful Muslim, it’s important that he privilege the claims of his holy book above ours. As a (hopefully!) faithful Christian, I must do the opposite too, of course. So I was glad to talk about our differences, learning and sharing with respect. For I believe that cultivating such openness to people of different faith traditions honors Plymouth Creek’s vision. We can celebrate and trust the truth of God we discover through faith in Jesus, while accepting that God’s outreach to humanity is broad enough to encompass other faiths. Or as my Muslim friends might say, “Allahu Akbar” (God is greater!).
And I learned something about the history of Muslim understandings about Jesus that mirrors ours. You’ll recall that even the Bible doesn’t speak with one voice on the meaning of Christ’s death and resurrection. All four gospels have a unique spin. Paul’s writings present another. For centuries after, then, Christians struggled to clarify why that singular event mattered so. Was Jesus God? Did he just seem human? God and human? What would that mean?! I find this variety of opinion- admitting that, though people believe differently, God graciously accepts us, unites us still- one of Christianity’s most attractive convictions. We haven’t always put it into practice, but when it’s done well, it’s beautiful!
Perhaps similarly, Muslim scholars- Tamim tells me- have long debated Jesus’ role as revealed by the Qur’an. Was he a prophet on par with Muhammad? Subordinate? Greater, even?! Different folk claim different ideas, but they all still pray toward Mecca. And maybe that says as much about humanity as it does about God. We were created to think deeply, talk openly, question continually, seek God endlessly. In the meantime, though, God hopes we’ll work together, live and serve in peace.
If you can make an upcoming interfaith conversation, I hope you’ll join me. You needn’t be a Christian expert, just a faithful soul willing to learn. In fact, I find these conversations help me clarify my own beliefs as much as understand another’s. For a major one of those beliefs is that God is honored by openness to neighbors. People unlike us in important ways, but beloved children of God too.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, March 29, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Holy Ground…
We have no fire pit in my backyard, around which to roast marshmallows and tell tales. I have friends whose abode brags of this feature. I’m jealous. For there’s something magical about a campfire, an open stack of crackling wood, flames reaching into darkness, shedding light and warmth and comfort. Some nights, when I’m near one, I wish the blissful minutes would last longer. But all things fade, even firewood. It’s too much to wish we’d abide forever in a fleeting moment.
Perhaps that certainty of change is critical. Maybe we’d cherish it less if the wood blazed, but we knew it wouldn’t disappear. Or maybe we’d grow terrified! How can fire burn, but not destroy?! It would seem out-of-place, menacing, impossible, diabolical. But Exodus 3 tells a tale of exactly that kind, you’ll recall. During Moses’ shepherding days, he confronts a bush that burns, but doesn’t diminish. Fear grips his spirit. It would paralyze most people! A voice says, “Do not be afraid.” As if that helps! Now, there are strange sounds to go with otherworldly sights. Yet it continues, “Remove your sandals. You are standing on Holy Ground.”
A fire that burns, but doesn’t destroy. Passion that consumes, yet won’t ruin. An apt metaphor, I believe, for experiencing of The Holy. Fear does seem appropriate; can’t blame Moses there. We don’t encounter such unadorned holiness most moments of our days. We’re accustomed to profound feelings that fade, intense desires that overwhelm, even harm people. It’s a rare wonder to discover power working alongside longevity and protection. Fright, many say, arrives when we perceive something unexpected. Unknown events scare us. Unfamiliarity seeds suspicion. This story, however, suggests that not all things unusual are made the same. Sometimes terror is appropriate. Other times- holy times- call for awe.
I’ve pondered this issue recently for two related reasons. The first is Easter. In Christian tradition, no other experience unveils God’s Holiness- God’s power and love tied together- as blatantly or blessedly. Death broken by Christ’s broken body rising again to new life. We proclaim that event as the ultimate revelation of sin defeated, fear chastened. As Paul declared, “Nothing can separate us from the love of God we find in Jesus,” our risen Lord. The unjust powers of his day attempted to burn him, extinguish his life. Didn’t work. They failed to see that he hung upon Holy Ground.
As well, our church’s regional camp in Newton, Iowa- the Christian Conference Center- has appealed in recent months for support to make improvements. I haven’t said much because, frankly, we’ve had our own capital campaign ongoing. Still, I’m aware how critical camp was to many Christians’ spiritual development. As a youth, I first learned the gentle force of holiness around campfires at church camp, singing songs, telling tales of Jesus, asking God’s presence to come closer. Since daily life is rarely so…concentrated as a week of summer camp, the passion would fade once I returned home, but it never smoldered out completely. That’s another characteristic of encountering The Holy- it makes an impression, stamps an imprint that lasts beyond the holy fire’s flames.
Plymouth Creek members have long sent youth and others to Conference Center camps. I can’t guarantee their experiences matched mine, though I wouldn’t be surprised. Because of that history, then, I wanted you to know this fundraising was happening. Will you pray about whether you can contribute to help ensure new generations can gather there? Call me or go to uppermidwestcc.org to learn about plans and donate. It’s quite the vision they’ve prepared- responsible, sustainable, bold.
And if you’ve never been, you should know that as you drive onto the grounds, a sign reads, “You are entering Holy Ground.” It’s true. For there, a powerful love encircles youth and families that’s safe, gentle and strong. But the ultimate truth is- my apologies to Moses and the Region- in light of Christ’s resurrection, we can all experience Holy Ground. Wherever we are. It takes eyes to see and hope to believe, but always and everywhere God is there. Burning with love for you that will not destroy. Offering, instead, abundant life eternal.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Perhaps that certainty of change is critical. Maybe we’d cherish it less if the wood blazed, but we knew it wouldn’t disappear. Or maybe we’d grow terrified! How can fire burn, but not destroy?! It would seem out-of-place, menacing, impossible, diabolical. But Exodus 3 tells a tale of exactly that kind, you’ll recall. During Moses’ shepherding days, he confronts a bush that burns, but doesn’t diminish. Fear grips his spirit. It would paralyze most people! A voice says, “Do not be afraid.” As if that helps! Now, there are strange sounds to go with otherworldly sights. Yet it continues, “Remove your sandals. You are standing on Holy Ground.”
A fire that burns, but doesn’t destroy. Passion that consumes, yet won’t ruin. An apt metaphor, I believe, for experiencing of The Holy. Fear does seem appropriate; can’t blame Moses there. We don’t encounter such unadorned holiness most moments of our days. We’re accustomed to profound feelings that fade, intense desires that overwhelm, even harm people. It’s a rare wonder to discover power working alongside longevity and protection. Fright, many say, arrives when we perceive something unexpected. Unknown events scare us. Unfamiliarity seeds suspicion. This story, however, suggests that not all things unusual are made the same. Sometimes terror is appropriate. Other times- holy times- call for awe.
I’ve pondered this issue recently for two related reasons. The first is Easter. In Christian tradition, no other experience unveils God’s Holiness- God’s power and love tied together- as blatantly or blessedly. Death broken by Christ’s broken body rising again to new life. We proclaim that event as the ultimate revelation of sin defeated, fear chastened. As Paul declared, “Nothing can separate us from the love of God we find in Jesus,” our risen Lord. The unjust powers of his day attempted to burn him, extinguish his life. Didn’t work. They failed to see that he hung upon Holy Ground.
As well, our church’s regional camp in Newton, Iowa- the Christian Conference Center- has appealed in recent months for support to make improvements. I haven’t said much because, frankly, we’ve had our own capital campaign ongoing. Still, I’m aware how critical camp was to many Christians’ spiritual development. As a youth, I first learned the gentle force of holiness around campfires at church camp, singing songs, telling tales of Jesus, asking God’s presence to come closer. Since daily life is rarely so…concentrated as a week of summer camp, the passion would fade once I returned home, but it never smoldered out completely. That’s another characteristic of encountering The Holy- it makes an impression, stamps an imprint that lasts beyond the holy fire’s flames.
Plymouth Creek members have long sent youth and others to Conference Center camps. I can’t guarantee their experiences matched mine, though I wouldn’t be surprised. Because of that history, then, I wanted you to know this fundraising was happening. Will you pray about whether you can contribute to help ensure new generations can gather there? Call me or go to uppermidwestcc.org to learn about plans and donate. It’s quite the vision they’ve prepared- responsible, sustainable, bold.
And if you’ve never been, you should know that as you drive onto the grounds, a sign reads, “You are entering Holy Ground.” It’s true. For there, a powerful love encircles youth and families that’s safe, gentle and strong. But the ultimate truth is- my apologies to Moses and the Region- in light of Christ’s resurrection, we can all experience Holy Ground. Wherever we are. It takes eyes to see and hope to believe, but always and everywhere God is there. Burning with love for you that will not destroy. Offering, instead, abundant life eternal.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Defining people…
After visiting the execution chamber in Angola prison earlier this month, our prison chaplain guide sat us down for a talk. I wrote last week about one haunting and hard story he told us. But there’s another he shared that seemed just as morally complicated, but perhaps more hopeful.
This story involves the teenage step-daughter of a death row inmate. Apparently, one night, not long after the man and his new wife wed, the daughter was dropped off at home by a family friend after a school event. Only the man was around, and he used that fact to kidnap the young woman. Drove her into Louisiana, raped and killed her, then hid the body. Thankfully, he was caught. Turns out he’d sexually abused women before. So he was sentenced to death, which occurred not long ago. His was Angola’s most recent execution.
The unique fact of his execution, though, was that he didn’t fight the sentence. The chaplain said he’d never met another death row prisoner who actively worked against efforts to save his life. But this man told the chaplain, “I deserve what I’ll receive. If they let me out, I’ll do it again. I’m sorry for it. But that’s who I am.” Further, the day of the execution, he called the former family friend, said, “I’m told you feel guilty, think the young woman would still be living if you hadn’t dropped her off that night. I’m sad to say that if it wasn’t that night, it would’ve been another. So please don’t feel guilty. It’s not your fault. It’s entirely mine.” Chaplain Toney told us that he believed this man felt real remorse, hence the phone call and no appeals. Whatever you think about capital punishment, that’s an extraordinary tale.
But what the chaplain said next has stuck with me since. In response, he claimed, “We are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”
A Plymouth Creeker told me last week about her former church. Small town, not too large, yet had multiple ties to incarcerated persons. One had been the woman’s former Sunday School student, now in jail for drugs and theft. Another had twins whom she taught in school, now serving time for corruption. To other people, she told me, these were bad, bad men. She, however, remembers kind words and times one did work on her house. “Society” deemed them inescapably unworthy, defined them by their worst ever deeds. Her church, though, would visit and write, look after family, care. And as we talked about those tough circumstances, it was clear that personal connections matter. Other high profile crime cases, I’ll admit, lead me to cringe, rage or judge. But when someone, however justly incarcerated, grew up singing “Jesus Loves Me” at your prompting, something shifts in how you respond. At least, that’s this church’s experience.
And it seems right to me. We are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done. I’ve met former convicts before at church and was impressed by their renewed faithfulness. I’ve known addicts who’d hurt others during their lowest of lows, yet have cheered their recovery and honored their attempts to make amends. I’ve interacted with people I knew abused children and struggled to not lash out. Yet I also knew they’d done other things, positive things for family or their community. It is right that we punish and jail criminals or denounce unhealthy behaviors. But how do we define the people who do the deeds? How do we define ourselves?
Psalm 139 defines us as “fearfully and wonderfully made.” When looking in the mirror, it’s good to focus on the “wonderfully.” When confronted with others’ terrible acts, the “fearfully” is hard to ignore. Yet I suspect God’s goal is keeping all parts of our complex selves in sight. Not ignoring our sin, but neither allowing that to define us fully. The question, then, is how does God reconcile our worst deeds with the others? Hold all sides of our lives in balance without one overwhelming the other?
My best answer- Grace. Amazing, radical, threatening grace. Is grace the defining idea of God’s relationship with God’s broken, beloved children?
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
This story involves the teenage step-daughter of a death row inmate. Apparently, one night, not long after the man and his new wife wed, the daughter was dropped off at home by a family friend after a school event. Only the man was around, and he used that fact to kidnap the young woman. Drove her into Louisiana, raped and killed her, then hid the body. Thankfully, he was caught. Turns out he’d sexually abused women before. So he was sentenced to death, which occurred not long ago. His was Angola’s most recent execution.
The unique fact of his execution, though, was that he didn’t fight the sentence. The chaplain said he’d never met another death row prisoner who actively worked against efforts to save his life. But this man told the chaplain, “I deserve what I’ll receive. If they let me out, I’ll do it again. I’m sorry for it. But that’s who I am.” Further, the day of the execution, he called the former family friend, said, “I’m told you feel guilty, think the young woman would still be living if you hadn’t dropped her off that night. I’m sad to say that if it wasn’t that night, it would’ve been another. So please don’t feel guilty. It’s not your fault. It’s entirely mine.” Chaplain Toney told us that he believed this man felt real remorse, hence the phone call and no appeals. Whatever you think about capital punishment, that’s an extraordinary tale.
But what the chaplain said next has stuck with me since. In response, he claimed, “We are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”
A Plymouth Creeker told me last week about her former church. Small town, not too large, yet had multiple ties to incarcerated persons. One had been the woman’s former Sunday School student, now in jail for drugs and theft. Another had twins whom she taught in school, now serving time for corruption. To other people, she told me, these were bad, bad men. She, however, remembers kind words and times one did work on her house. “Society” deemed them inescapably unworthy, defined them by their worst ever deeds. Her church, though, would visit and write, look after family, care. And as we talked about those tough circumstances, it was clear that personal connections matter. Other high profile crime cases, I’ll admit, lead me to cringe, rage or judge. But when someone, however justly incarcerated, grew up singing “Jesus Loves Me” at your prompting, something shifts in how you respond. At least, that’s this church’s experience.
And it seems right to me. We are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done. I’ve met former convicts before at church and was impressed by their renewed faithfulness. I’ve known addicts who’d hurt others during their lowest of lows, yet have cheered their recovery and honored their attempts to make amends. I’ve interacted with people I knew abused children and struggled to not lash out. Yet I also knew they’d done other things, positive things for family or their community. It is right that we punish and jail criminals or denounce unhealthy behaviors. But how do we define the people who do the deeds? How do we define ourselves?
Psalm 139 defines us as “fearfully and wonderfully made.” When looking in the mirror, it’s good to focus on the “wonderfully.” When confronted with others’ terrible acts, the “fearfully” is hard to ignore. Yet I suspect God’s goal is keeping all parts of our complex selves in sight. Not ignoring our sin, but neither allowing that to define us fully. The question, then, is how does God reconcile our worst deeds with the others? Hold all sides of our lives in balance without one overwhelming the other?
My best answer- Grace. Amazing, radical, threatening grace. Is grace the defining idea of God’s relationship with God’s broken, beloved children?
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Angola,
So. I’ve now seen a death chamber. Saw an electric chair too but’s that in a museum just outside the prison where I’ve lived this week. Instead, the death chamber currently used at the Louisiana State Penitentiary holds simply a microphone and PA system, so the condemned can share last words with a gathered crowd. And there’s a table with two extended arms- not unlike a flattened, padded cross- on which are straps for wrists, shackle cuffs for feet. That’s it. The death chamber.
Oh, and there are curtains, for covering two large windows looking in on the chamber. Process goes that the prisoner is brought in and then the audience gathers (victims’ family, press, his lawyer, sentencing judge perhaps, but not his own family) and then he says his last words and then he’s strapped to the table. The curtains close while a doctor punctures the man’s flesh with IV lines; both arms just in case. At Angola Prison, the warden stands next to the about-to-die man, holding his hand until the deed is done. I’m told wardens don’t do that elsewhere. Finally, once all’s in place, and after this warden has whispered to the man, “The next face you’ll see is Jesus,” a guard opens the curtain so the onlookers can watch as lethally injected fluids work their way into his system. He dies. They say it takes around seven minutes or so. The man might go peacefully. He might cry. He might “pee and shit himself”. The warden stays and holds the hand all the while. People watch.
Justice is done?
We don’t wrestle with this issue much in Minnesota since, as I recall, we’re one of eighteen states without the death penalty. Louisiana, however, has 84 men on death row, for now. That number was supposed to have shrunk by one a couple weeks ago, but legal maneuvering stayed the case last minute. Apparently, twenty(ish) years back, a man got angry at his child for messing his drawers before church. So he drew a scalding hot bath, stripped the eight year-old boy naked and dumped him in, holding his head below the steaming surface, whapping him several times with a screwdriver to reduce the panicked struggles. One might say he tortured his boy to death in hot water; the skin blistered red when all was done. But the convicted father is not dead because, even after all legal appeals were dismissed, the country where Louisiana buys the killing drugs (Holland) passed a law banning their sale for use in legal executions. Once brought to the judge’s attention, just days away from justice(?), His Honor halted the proceedings until all could be set straight.
I met a man on death row this week who’d been there over twenty years, about the right amount time. I didn’t ask his name. Didn’t know yet this story. But I wonder. And if he wasn’t that particular man, he’d still probably done something else terrible. Some death row felons are innocent, of course, some the victims of racist sentencing policies and bigoted juries. But most are pedophile predators or repeat killers, folk whom many think have squandered their right to live. I’m sympathetic to that notion, to be honest; evil is hard to digest. Though when pressed to consider it fully, I’m glad we’ve abolished the death penalty in Minnesota. I don’t think it’s worth killing a couple innocent men to satisfy our longings for revenge. It costs too much. It’s infected with too many biases. And, ultimately, I don’t want us to play God.
But I get the feeling. This man committed an act that cries out desperately for restitution. Next time you pray the Lord’s Prayer, think of this sin and search your heart. Yet when he and I talked, several things came up- where we’re from, what books we like. And God. “I’m right with God,” he said. “I’ll be welcomed Home.” The radical Good News of the Gospel is that, well, he’s right. God will say, “You’re forgiven. I love you.” No death chamber can change that.
And I wonder if our faith- my faith- is big enough to say the same? Should it?
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Oh, and there are curtains, for covering two large windows looking in on the chamber. Process goes that the prisoner is brought in and then the audience gathers (victims’ family, press, his lawyer, sentencing judge perhaps, but not his own family) and then he says his last words and then he’s strapped to the table. The curtains close while a doctor punctures the man’s flesh with IV lines; both arms just in case. At Angola Prison, the warden stands next to the about-to-die man, holding his hand until the deed is done. I’m told wardens don’t do that elsewhere. Finally, once all’s in place, and after this warden has whispered to the man, “The next face you’ll see is Jesus,” a guard opens the curtain so the onlookers can watch as lethally injected fluids work their way into his system. He dies. They say it takes around seven minutes or so. The man might go peacefully. He might cry. He might “pee and shit himself”. The warden stays and holds the hand all the while. People watch.
Justice is done?
We don’t wrestle with this issue much in Minnesota since, as I recall, we’re one of eighteen states without the death penalty. Louisiana, however, has 84 men on death row, for now. That number was supposed to have shrunk by one a couple weeks ago, but legal maneuvering stayed the case last minute. Apparently, twenty(ish) years back, a man got angry at his child for messing his drawers before church. So he drew a scalding hot bath, stripped the eight year-old boy naked and dumped him in, holding his head below the steaming surface, whapping him several times with a screwdriver to reduce the panicked struggles. One might say he tortured his boy to death in hot water; the skin blistered red when all was done. But the convicted father is not dead because, even after all legal appeals were dismissed, the country where Louisiana buys the killing drugs (Holland) passed a law banning their sale for use in legal executions. Once brought to the judge’s attention, just days away from justice(?), His Honor halted the proceedings until all could be set straight.
I met a man on death row this week who’d been there over twenty years, about the right amount time. I didn’t ask his name. Didn’t know yet this story. But I wonder. And if he wasn’t that particular man, he’d still probably done something else terrible. Some death row felons are innocent, of course, some the victims of racist sentencing policies and bigoted juries. But most are pedophile predators or repeat killers, folk whom many think have squandered their right to live. I’m sympathetic to that notion, to be honest; evil is hard to digest. Though when pressed to consider it fully, I’m glad we’ve abolished the death penalty in Minnesota. I don’t think it’s worth killing a couple innocent men to satisfy our longings for revenge. It costs too much. It’s infected with too many biases. And, ultimately, I don’t want us to play God.
But I get the feeling. This man committed an act that cries out desperately for restitution. Next time you pray the Lord’s Prayer, think of this sin and search your heart. Yet when he and I talked, several things came up- where we’re from, what books we like. And God. “I’m right with God,” he said. “I’ll be welcomed Home.” The radical Good News of the Gospel is that, well, he’s right. God will say, “You’re forgiven. I love you.” No death chamber can change that.
And I wonder if our faith- my faith- is big enough to say the same? Should it?
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Visited me…
Some of you know this already. If not, you’ll be intrigued. On February 15, as I was working on a sermon and drinking coffee, a colleague who leads a large, dynamic church called and said, “Shane, I’d like to send you to prison.”
I didn’t do anything wrong. Truly. He wasn’t angry with me or warning me. Rather, he’d called to explain a program he helped develop and to offer me a spot. Simply put, he’s leading a group of youngish ministers into Angola State Penitentiary in Louisiana. We’ll live there from Monday until Friday, March 4-8, immersing ourselves in the prison’s life. Well…at least to an extent. We won’t sleep in cells, but in prison guest houses. We can’t have cell phones or computers inside, but also can’t walk around alone, outside the group. We know when we’ll leave, must wear business casual rather than issued garb. Our food will be the prisoners’ food; our schedule set by the prison staff.
Unfortunately, since this experience came up so last minute, I won’t be in worship Sunday the 3rd. But as I discussed the possibility with our Board leadership and Servant Leaders, they said, “Shane, this sounds like a powerful opportunity. Once in a lifetime…we hope! Go learn something, bring it back, and don’t do anything to make them keep you there.”
So I’m going. As I anticipate the trip, my heart and soul rumbles with many voices. I’m excited; I never imagined I’d have the chance to experience such a rich, unique learning environment. I’m nervous; for as learning environments go, prisons have slightly lower reputations than the typical library. I’m insecure; I imagine I’ll meet folk who’ve dealt with harder life events than I’ve ever had to. I’m grateful; for a supportive church, creative colleagues, the privileges and comforts of my every day.
I could go on. But I keep returning to one scripture that sums up why I wanted to go. You know it well. Jesus tells the Parable of the Sheep and Goats, imagining what that “great getting’ up morning” will be like as all humanity meets God face-to-face. To those whom God is pleased with, Jesus names the reason as- “When I was hungry, you fed me. When I was thirsty, you gave me drink. When I was naked, you gave me clothes. When in prison, you visited me…whatsoever you’ve done unto these, my children- even the ‘least’- you’ve done so unto me.” I usually focus on the food and water and clothing part. Visiting the prisoner? Not really.
Of course, in Jesus’ day, internment was different than it is now. He maybe was imagining simple farmers locked up in debtor’s prison; poor people forced, but unable, to pay larger rents and taxes than their small fields could sustain. These days, more people are incarcerated for drug related crimes than debt, or theft or violence. Not exactly the same, although for many, I’m told, drug use and sales are one of too few opportunities for money making in impoverished urban neighborhoods. And sentencing terms for these poor men and women are typically much harsher than for crimes common to wealthier folk (like embezzlement or powder cocaine usage, as contrasted with property theft and crack). In other words, Jesus’ urging his followers to have compassion on downtrodden peasants confined by an unjust system, it’s not a carbon copy way to our current situation. But neither is it irrelevant. Indeed, it probably matters more these days than we’d prefer admitting.
So I’ve decided to take Jesus’ advice, visit the prison and learn what I can. Not to mention take the advice of a PCCC member who likes saying, “If something feels uncomfortable, it’s probably the right thing to do!” I expect to feel naïve most of the week, confront biases in my soul that I wish weren’t there. But I’ll try to share that with you, either through emails during the week or when I get home. Perhaps then we’ll hear together Christ’s ever-present call- “Whatsoever you’ve done…”- and so recommit to seeking more actively more folk to visit, to serve, to love.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
I didn’t do anything wrong. Truly. He wasn’t angry with me or warning me. Rather, he’d called to explain a program he helped develop and to offer me a spot. Simply put, he’s leading a group of youngish ministers into Angola State Penitentiary in Louisiana. We’ll live there from Monday until Friday, March 4-8, immersing ourselves in the prison’s life. Well…at least to an extent. We won’t sleep in cells, but in prison guest houses. We can’t have cell phones or computers inside, but also can’t walk around alone, outside the group. We know when we’ll leave, must wear business casual rather than issued garb. Our food will be the prisoners’ food; our schedule set by the prison staff.
Unfortunately, since this experience came up so last minute, I won’t be in worship Sunday the 3rd. But as I discussed the possibility with our Board leadership and Servant Leaders, they said, “Shane, this sounds like a powerful opportunity. Once in a lifetime…we hope! Go learn something, bring it back, and don’t do anything to make them keep you there.”
So I’m going. As I anticipate the trip, my heart and soul rumbles with many voices. I’m excited; I never imagined I’d have the chance to experience such a rich, unique learning environment. I’m nervous; for as learning environments go, prisons have slightly lower reputations than the typical library. I’m insecure; I imagine I’ll meet folk who’ve dealt with harder life events than I’ve ever had to. I’m grateful; for a supportive church, creative colleagues, the privileges and comforts of my every day.
I could go on. But I keep returning to one scripture that sums up why I wanted to go. You know it well. Jesus tells the Parable of the Sheep and Goats, imagining what that “great getting’ up morning” will be like as all humanity meets God face-to-face. To those whom God is pleased with, Jesus names the reason as- “When I was hungry, you fed me. When I was thirsty, you gave me drink. When I was naked, you gave me clothes. When in prison, you visited me…whatsoever you’ve done unto these, my children- even the ‘least’- you’ve done so unto me.” I usually focus on the food and water and clothing part. Visiting the prisoner? Not really.
Of course, in Jesus’ day, internment was different than it is now. He maybe was imagining simple farmers locked up in debtor’s prison; poor people forced, but unable, to pay larger rents and taxes than their small fields could sustain. These days, more people are incarcerated for drug related crimes than debt, or theft or violence. Not exactly the same, although for many, I’m told, drug use and sales are one of too few opportunities for money making in impoverished urban neighborhoods. And sentencing terms for these poor men and women are typically much harsher than for crimes common to wealthier folk (like embezzlement or powder cocaine usage, as contrasted with property theft and crack). In other words, Jesus’ urging his followers to have compassion on downtrodden peasants confined by an unjust system, it’s not a carbon copy way to our current situation. But neither is it irrelevant. Indeed, it probably matters more these days than we’d prefer admitting.
So I’ve decided to take Jesus’ advice, visit the prison and learn what I can. Not to mention take the advice of a PCCC member who likes saying, “If something feels uncomfortable, it’s probably the right thing to do!” I expect to feel naïve most of the week, confront biases in my soul that I wish weren’t there. But I’ll try to share that with you, either through emails during the week or when I get home. Perhaps then we’ll hear together Christ’s ever-present call- “Whatsoever you’ve done…”- and so recommit to seeking more actively more folk to visit, to serve, to love.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
First things…
My wife’s been reading a book called First Things First. It sounds interesting. As she describes the premise, the author encourages people who want to work and live more efficiently or effectively, to reflect on what’s most important to their goals and souls. After all, many issues, ideas, opportunities, burdens waft across our plates every day and offer to stay. We could volunteer. Remodel the kitchen. Go back to school. Write more letters to friends. We could read the Lenten devotional book that Pastor Shane helped write (copies still available!). But we can’t do everything. We don’t have time or energy. We make choices.
The thing is, the author observes, many choices we make don’t align with what we most want in life, what’s most important. Rather, we pick what seems most urgent, go with the apparently immediate needs. Even if those tasks are less critical to our success or long-term well-being, the plate gets full before we tackle the first things. How long has that project remained on the to-do list? How long has that idea floated around, you saying, “Maybe I’ll make it happen when I finally have the time”? Truthfully, we often have the time. We just don’t use it thoughtfully enough. But if we pause, reevaluate what our most important things are versus the simply ‘urgent’ things (like spending time with God, deepening relationships, building skills that bring us joy), going forward we might be better at keeping first things first.
I like that notion. I’m thinking about it this month in honor of Lent. Our theme, you’ll recall, is “Letting Go,” which reflects a frequent Lenten dynamic. People often choose things to “give up” or “let go” so they’ll interact more with the really First Thing- God! You maybe noticed that I’m asking the church, as a worshipping community, to experience that together. Every Sunday, rather than pray the Lord’s Prayer as per usual, we’re praying a communal prayer of confession found in our Chalice Hymnal, borrowed from our Anglican partners. For many Disciples of Christ, of course, weekly Lord’s Prayers don’t occur. After all, traditional Disciples thought recognizes only baptism and communion as irreplaceable institutions. But for many DoC churches, ours included, that’s been a long-standing element. Indeed, since Jesus himself encouraged us to pray it, it might feel like a divine requirement! Ironically, in Matthew 6, where the most familiar version appears, it comes just after Jesus tells his disciples, “Don’t pray in public, grandly, like hypocrites. Instead, pray in private.” That being said, I doubt Jesus would grudge us our weekly public recitation. As long as the reasons we do it accord with his call to holiness, justice and truth.
But is that why we pray the Lord’s Prayer? A sincere desire to connect with God, forgive our debtors, help God’s Kingdom come on earth? Or is it obligation? Filling time? Maybe the comfort of something familiar (which is good!), but devoid of Jesus’ originally intended transformative purpose? Honestly, I don’t know. It may be one, several or none of those options for you; I’m not your heart’s interpreter. Still, it’s so easy in worship or basic Christian living to fill our plates with stuff that, even when important or useful, we just go through the motions.
That’s why I think “letting go” during Lent can be helpful, even if that concept seems odd to you. Intentionally not having something you like or even deem obligatory provides space for remembering why it matters. Obviously, the Lord’s Prayer doesn’t fall into that category for everyone, but it does for some and that’s instructive for all. In a culture that rarely gives up anything it wants, seemingly treats every desire as a need (I wonder how Lent’s experienced in developing countries?), it’s spiritually healthy- maybe essential- to regain perspective regularly. Perhaps letting go of the Lord’s Prayer until Easter will facilitate that for you, not only as regards our worshipping together but even in your life. Have you filled your plate with stuff, obligations, routines and even urgent things that honestly aren’t critical? If so, ask God to help you let go, to keep first things first.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
The thing is, the author observes, many choices we make don’t align with what we most want in life, what’s most important. Rather, we pick what seems most urgent, go with the apparently immediate needs. Even if those tasks are less critical to our success or long-term well-being, the plate gets full before we tackle the first things. How long has that project remained on the to-do list? How long has that idea floated around, you saying, “Maybe I’ll make it happen when I finally have the time”? Truthfully, we often have the time. We just don’t use it thoughtfully enough. But if we pause, reevaluate what our most important things are versus the simply ‘urgent’ things (like spending time with God, deepening relationships, building skills that bring us joy), going forward we might be better at keeping first things first.
I like that notion. I’m thinking about it this month in honor of Lent. Our theme, you’ll recall, is “Letting Go,” which reflects a frequent Lenten dynamic. People often choose things to “give up” or “let go” so they’ll interact more with the really First Thing- God! You maybe noticed that I’m asking the church, as a worshipping community, to experience that together. Every Sunday, rather than pray the Lord’s Prayer as per usual, we’re praying a communal prayer of confession found in our Chalice Hymnal, borrowed from our Anglican partners. For many Disciples of Christ, of course, weekly Lord’s Prayers don’t occur. After all, traditional Disciples thought recognizes only baptism and communion as irreplaceable institutions. But for many DoC churches, ours included, that’s been a long-standing element. Indeed, since Jesus himself encouraged us to pray it, it might feel like a divine requirement! Ironically, in Matthew 6, where the most familiar version appears, it comes just after Jesus tells his disciples, “Don’t pray in public, grandly, like hypocrites. Instead, pray in private.” That being said, I doubt Jesus would grudge us our weekly public recitation. As long as the reasons we do it accord with his call to holiness, justice and truth.
But is that why we pray the Lord’s Prayer? A sincere desire to connect with God, forgive our debtors, help God’s Kingdom come on earth? Or is it obligation? Filling time? Maybe the comfort of something familiar (which is good!), but devoid of Jesus’ originally intended transformative purpose? Honestly, I don’t know. It may be one, several or none of those options for you; I’m not your heart’s interpreter. Still, it’s so easy in worship or basic Christian living to fill our plates with stuff that, even when important or useful, we just go through the motions.
That’s why I think “letting go” during Lent can be helpful, even if that concept seems odd to you. Intentionally not having something you like or even deem obligatory provides space for remembering why it matters. Obviously, the Lord’s Prayer doesn’t fall into that category for everyone, but it does for some and that’s instructive for all. In a culture that rarely gives up anything it wants, seemingly treats every desire as a need (I wonder how Lent’s experienced in developing countries?), it’s spiritually healthy- maybe essential- to regain perspective regularly. Perhaps letting go of the Lord’s Prayer until Easter will facilitate that for you, not only as regards our worshipping together but even in your life. Have you filled your plate with stuff, obligations, routines and even urgent things that honestly aren’t critical? If so, ask God to help you let go, to keep first things first.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
What next…
I’d planned to write another letter this week, began working on it Sunday even. Then I awoke to rare news Monday- that the current occupant of St. Peter’s See has decided to renounce his position as leader of the Roman Catholic Church. Pope Benedict XVI remains living, but will no longer be Pope. This hasn’t happened since the middle Middle Ages. Wild.
So my writing plan changed. I had questions, which may be answered once the news is no longer fresh. Will he return to being Joseph Ratzinger, or does a retired pope retain the title, like former Mr. Presidents? Will he have any leadership role once he descends the Apostolic Throne, or will he move to a monastery? Why did he do it? Is he dying? Is there unseen tension with the Vatican?
As a professional minister, these ponderings are my version of workplace gossip. Not as interesting to others, but I’m titillated! As a Protestant, though, in a church with some critical differences from Catholicism- ordination of women, noncelibate clergy, mistrust of hierarchy, rejection of creeds- maybe it shouldn’t matter to me. That’s their business, won’t affect mine.
The thing is Pope Benedict is the world’s most visible and influential Christian. Plus, not only does he head the planet’s largest religious organization, he’s also successor to history’s most enduring institution- the Papacy. Consider that the British monarchy’s not yet a thousand years old. The Dalai Lama began teaching in the late 14th century. Perhaps I’m forgetting other organizations or offices, but the Bishop of Rome seems unrivaled to me. Of course, some papal achievements may not be worth celebrating or still condoning. Novel ideas like holy war, the One True Church, infallibility weren’t the institution’s high points. Nevertheless, because of past popes’ efforts, whoever succeeds Benedict will instantly become Christianity’s most listened to voice. He may not be respected, or sought after, or wise, but when he speaks, people will pay attention. And many, Catholic or otherwise, will believe he represents all Jesus followers.
In other words, even Protestants have a stake in the Papacy’s direction. We don’t have a say in where it leads, obviously. But it’s still worthwhile to ponder its possible impact on us.
Suppose the new pope is a disaster; unapologetic about clergy abuse, treats other religions as enemies and not partners. The modern papacy retains trappings of medieval monarchs- thrones, palaces, near absolute authority, expensive regalia meant to project power- and some want a doubling down on that outmoded system. I think such decisions would further alienate modern folk from not just Catholicism, but all Christianity.
Then again, others advocate for a dramatic opening of the institution and church- celebrating Catholicism’s vibrant, multicultural growth in Africa and Asia, investing in its anti-poverty and social justice work that basically no one else does so well or has for so long. When Pope John Paul II visited concentration camps and met with other leaders of world religions, interfaith cooperation leapt forward in ways no one else could’ve achieved. I think such decisions could prove healing and invigorating for all Christians.
Now, I’m not a Benedict XVI scholar, but my feelings of him are mixed. Not as reactionary as I first worried, not as open as I’d choose. But this decision to step down, acknowledging his frailty and restrictions, the unique leadership demands the Papacy requires, it seems a decision of humility, of lifting the pope’s work above his prestige. If that’s right, I think it’s wise. For all the office’s grandiose aura, a flawed human inhabits it. And when the Papacy has failed worst is when a Pope acted as if he’s above normal human limitations. Perhaps by so publically acknowledging he can’t do it all, Benedict will re-energize the office’s humanistic elements. That may present other popes with more realistic expectations, open his church to newer ideas and leadership models. Who knows, it may lead non-Christians to reconsider the most attractive claims of Christian faith? That even flawed humans, broken and compromised, can connect fully with our merciful God, can make the world better, can find redemption, can channel divinity.
Just look at St. Peter. He did alright.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
So my writing plan changed. I had questions, which may be answered once the news is no longer fresh. Will he return to being Joseph Ratzinger, or does a retired pope retain the title, like former Mr. Presidents? Will he have any leadership role once he descends the Apostolic Throne, or will he move to a monastery? Why did he do it? Is he dying? Is there unseen tension with the Vatican?
As a professional minister, these ponderings are my version of workplace gossip. Not as interesting to others, but I’m titillated! As a Protestant, though, in a church with some critical differences from Catholicism- ordination of women, noncelibate clergy, mistrust of hierarchy, rejection of creeds- maybe it shouldn’t matter to me. That’s their business, won’t affect mine.
The thing is Pope Benedict is the world’s most visible and influential Christian. Plus, not only does he head the planet’s largest religious organization, he’s also successor to history’s most enduring institution- the Papacy. Consider that the British monarchy’s not yet a thousand years old. The Dalai Lama began teaching in the late 14th century. Perhaps I’m forgetting other organizations or offices, but the Bishop of Rome seems unrivaled to me. Of course, some papal achievements may not be worth celebrating or still condoning. Novel ideas like holy war, the One True Church, infallibility weren’t the institution’s high points. Nevertheless, because of past popes’ efforts, whoever succeeds Benedict will instantly become Christianity’s most listened to voice. He may not be respected, or sought after, or wise, but when he speaks, people will pay attention. And many, Catholic or otherwise, will believe he represents all Jesus followers.
In other words, even Protestants have a stake in the Papacy’s direction. We don’t have a say in where it leads, obviously. But it’s still worthwhile to ponder its possible impact on us.
Suppose the new pope is a disaster; unapologetic about clergy abuse, treats other religions as enemies and not partners. The modern papacy retains trappings of medieval monarchs- thrones, palaces, near absolute authority, expensive regalia meant to project power- and some want a doubling down on that outmoded system. I think such decisions would further alienate modern folk from not just Catholicism, but all Christianity.
Then again, others advocate for a dramatic opening of the institution and church- celebrating Catholicism’s vibrant, multicultural growth in Africa and Asia, investing in its anti-poverty and social justice work that basically no one else does so well or has for so long. When Pope John Paul II visited concentration camps and met with other leaders of world religions, interfaith cooperation leapt forward in ways no one else could’ve achieved. I think such decisions could prove healing and invigorating for all Christians.
Now, I’m not a Benedict XVI scholar, but my feelings of him are mixed. Not as reactionary as I first worried, not as open as I’d choose. But this decision to step down, acknowledging his frailty and restrictions, the unique leadership demands the Papacy requires, it seems a decision of humility, of lifting the pope’s work above his prestige. If that’s right, I think it’s wise. For all the office’s grandiose aura, a flawed human inhabits it. And when the Papacy has failed worst is when a Pope acted as if he’s above normal human limitations. Perhaps by so publically acknowledging he can’t do it all, Benedict will re-energize the office’s humanistic elements. That may present other popes with more realistic expectations, open his church to newer ideas and leadership models. Who knows, it may lead non-Christians to reconsider the most attractive claims of Christian faith? That even flawed humans, broken and compromised, can connect fully with our merciful God, can make the world better, can find redemption, can channel divinity.
Just look at St. Peter. He did alright.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
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