Again, Thanksgiving’s upon us! And this time, I plan to be ready. I’m traveling with Tabitha and Fawkes to my sister’s house in Kansas. I’ll bring some cooking tools also, probably more than I’ll need. But I intend to force my family to let me make some of the holiday meal. The mashed potatoes, certainly. Perhaps some carrots, a chunky gravy.
Of course, it’s only been a few years since I’ve become a non-embarrassment in the kitchen. My family’s accustomed still to the culinary bumbler they long knew. Thus, I suspect that, were we to get together next week for a weekend barbeque, I wouldn’t need to argue for whether I could take control of a recipe or two. They’d say, “Go for it. Let’s see what you’ve learned.” After all, if I messed up, there’s Papa John’s or India House. Except this isn’t a normal dinner. It’s Thanksgiving! And you just don’t take the risk of your suddenly wannabe Chef Son messing up a holiday feast. Give him some years to watch and learn and prepare.
It’s how holiday cooking has worked for centuries, even. Younger generations learning tricks and traditions from their parents, who learned from their parents, all making slight adjustments when their turn came. So on, down the ages, ideas evolved. As new ingredients were imported, things like cinnamon were added to pumpkin pie. As new technologies arose, things like blenders made making smooth gravy much quicker. Yet because these meals mattered more than most- holidays that brought occasional flare to all-too-often bare and simple tables- the evolution was slow, changes took time, traditions held strongly.
It you’re now asking, “Shane, why does that matter?” I want you to reread those sentences, but imagine we’re talking about religion. Go ahead. I’ll wait. You done? Great. Sounds like a related process, doesn’t it? At least, that’s my theory: cooking and religion are often the same. Especially when it comes to big moments, holiday feasts! I’ve attended Christmas services at Evangelical churches who pride themselves on using only up-to-date, hipster music. Yet on those oh-so-holy nights, the churches sang Joy to the World and such. Sure, the instrumentation was more current than organ and bells. Nevertheless, some things, I guess, you just don’t mess with.
Or rather, you only mess with over long periods of time. I mean, it’s also true that Jesus’ followers didn’t sing Silent Night, right? Instead, they celebrated festivals that evolved over centuries of Jewish observance; Passover, Booths, Pentecost, Yom Kippur, which in turn were adapted from earlier cultures and traditions. Over intervening centuries, many things happened that changed the meanings of these Jewish festivals- the Exodus from Egypt, the Exile in Babylon, the takeover of Jewish homelands by Rome. Then, for Christians, Passover became something quite transformed when thought of in light of Jesus. Yet just like Jesus, for awhile, they honored ancient tradition and performed familiar rituals.
You know the saying: the only thing that never changes is that everything changes? That’s true enough, I imagine, however slowly most important changes take. In an age like ours, such measured speeds can feel glacial even, particularly when compared with how quickly some new things change. Flashier, faster iPhones come out yearly now. E-readers and laptops get both smaller and more powerful. Why haven’t we figured out world peace, then?! Or, at least, a perfect way to make turkey gravy every time, with little fuss and less cleaning?! The Holidays are good reminders that, however true it is that all things will pass, you don’t mess with some important things without due deliberation.
So it is I’ll head to Thanksgiving with my new potato ricer and flashy wand blender, demanding to mash potatoes but not daring to roast the turkey. I may say, “Hey Mom, perhaps we ought try brining it this year?” But if we don’t, whatever. She’s Mom; she’s got it covered. And when it’s my turn to take over, eventually, I’ll be glad she passed on what she knew.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
As one…
This Sunday marks the first of several experiments over the next few months. Specifically, we’re welcoming Rev. Dr. Ewen Holmes- Senior Pastor of nearby Plymouth Presbyterian Church- into our pulpit, while I’ll be at his church laying down the good Word. Pastor Ewen and I arrived in Plymouth within a month of each other. We’ve connected through IOCP, along with other similar minded pastors. Enjoying those relationships, we grab lunch or breakfast regularly. And a few months back, someone said, “Let’s do a pulpit exchange.”
Thus it is a (gasp!) Presbyterian will brave a Disciples church!
Honestly, I love the symbolism of this preaching swap the Sunday after national elections. For, if you recall, Disciples began as rebel Presbyterians. Many of our founders trained for ministry in the Presbyterian fold. Two heavyweights- Thomas and Alexander Campbell- were even from Scotland. In the early 1800s, in fact, Alexander attended seminary at the University of Edinburgh, while his father Thomas looked for work in the US. Soon, though, Thomas was fighting with local ministers and church authorities, and around 1809, declared himself a “free agent”. You ask Disciples, it’s because he’d awoken to the need for churches to forget denominational allegiance, and work for unity among the ever-more fragmenting faithful. You ask Presbyterians of that time, Thomas Campbell was an arrogant, stubborn glory-hound!
Honestly, Disciples partisan though I may be, neither story’s fully accurate. What’s most revealing, rather, is that this splinter occurred on the so-called frontier around twenty years after America’s War of Independence. In other words, freedom, autonomy and individual initiative were in the air. Especially in rural farms and small towns up and down Ohio and Kentucky- i.e. exactly where the break occurred. At the time, tempers were high: “You’re heretics!” “You’re demonic!” For all his talk of unity, Thomas Campbell likely wouldn’t have invited Presbyterian ministers into his pulpit, nor ascended one of theirs.
Two centuries later, though, it’s not only a non-issue, I even think our denominations should just merge. Probably won’t happen for a while, but we’ve really got lots in common. They could be probably teach us about organization and thoughtful planning. We could offer insights into freedom of expression and doctrinal creativity. Whatever the case, we aren’t the same church, but it’s easy enough to act as one. To swap pulpit, merge youth groups, perhaps work together in mission and service…?!
As I said, it’s a potent symbol days after the country votes. Our denomination began as an off-shot of the Presbyterian Church. Our founders railed and harangued, gave and got much abuse. Yet their heirs in faith, now, are working together and enjoying it. Not only in Plymouth, but around the country and world. I know a Disciples minister on staff of a Presbyterian church in Lexington, KY. We’ve partnered for disaster relief and missionary efforts across the globe. In other words, unity- not division nor animosity- have become our long-term trajectory. Our country, I suspect, could learn from that.
I suspect on Sunday the 11th, all sides of the political spectrum will still be elated or downtrodden. Exuberant at their sides’ prospects or anxious over their preferred partisans’ losses. We might even feel something of both within our spirits, if, say, we pick with the majority on one question but ‘lose’ on another. It could be easy, therefore, to devolve into a game of boasting and blaming, of vilifying your victorious opponents or gloating over the ‘losers.’ But the ultimate hope is that in country- as much, I pray, as in church- the long-term trajectory ought be unity, not division.
Even if that seems tough, given the current cultural atmosphere, oneness is neither naïve nor undesirable. Thomas and Alexander Campbell, and other Disciples of Christ founders, may’ve wanted unity, but didn’t achieve it in their lifetimes. Yet here we are- 2012- in Plymouth, Minnesota, receiving blessings from a blessed neighbor, a wise preacher, a...Presbyterian!
I pray you find Pastor Ewen as profound and engaging as I’ve come to regard him. After all, when we put unity before division, togetherness before denigration, it turns out we’ve all got many great gifts to receive and share.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Thus it is a (gasp!) Presbyterian will brave a Disciples church!
Honestly, I love the symbolism of this preaching swap the Sunday after national elections. For, if you recall, Disciples began as rebel Presbyterians. Many of our founders trained for ministry in the Presbyterian fold. Two heavyweights- Thomas and Alexander Campbell- were even from Scotland. In the early 1800s, in fact, Alexander attended seminary at the University of Edinburgh, while his father Thomas looked for work in the US. Soon, though, Thomas was fighting with local ministers and church authorities, and around 1809, declared himself a “free agent”. You ask Disciples, it’s because he’d awoken to the need for churches to forget denominational allegiance, and work for unity among the ever-more fragmenting faithful. You ask Presbyterians of that time, Thomas Campbell was an arrogant, stubborn glory-hound!
Honestly, Disciples partisan though I may be, neither story’s fully accurate. What’s most revealing, rather, is that this splinter occurred on the so-called frontier around twenty years after America’s War of Independence. In other words, freedom, autonomy and individual initiative were in the air. Especially in rural farms and small towns up and down Ohio and Kentucky- i.e. exactly where the break occurred. At the time, tempers were high: “You’re heretics!” “You’re demonic!” For all his talk of unity, Thomas Campbell likely wouldn’t have invited Presbyterian ministers into his pulpit, nor ascended one of theirs.
Two centuries later, though, it’s not only a non-issue, I even think our denominations should just merge. Probably won’t happen for a while, but we’ve really got lots in common. They could be probably teach us about organization and thoughtful planning. We could offer insights into freedom of expression and doctrinal creativity. Whatever the case, we aren’t the same church, but it’s easy enough to act as one. To swap pulpit, merge youth groups, perhaps work together in mission and service…?!
As I said, it’s a potent symbol days after the country votes. Our denomination began as an off-shot of the Presbyterian Church. Our founders railed and harangued, gave and got much abuse. Yet their heirs in faith, now, are working together and enjoying it. Not only in Plymouth, but around the country and world. I know a Disciples minister on staff of a Presbyterian church in Lexington, KY. We’ve partnered for disaster relief and missionary efforts across the globe. In other words, unity- not division nor animosity- have become our long-term trajectory. Our country, I suspect, could learn from that.
I suspect on Sunday the 11th, all sides of the political spectrum will still be elated or downtrodden. Exuberant at their sides’ prospects or anxious over their preferred partisans’ losses. We might even feel something of both within our spirits, if, say, we pick with the majority on one question but ‘lose’ on another. It could be easy, therefore, to devolve into a game of boasting and blaming, of vilifying your victorious opponents or gloating over the ‘losers.’ But the ultimate hope is that in country- as much, I pray, as in church- the long-term trajectory ought be unity, not division.
Even if that seems tough, given the current cultural atmosphere, oneness is neither naïve nor undesirable. Thomas and Alexander Campbell, and other Disciples of Christ founders, may’ve wanted unity, but didn’t achieve it in their lifetimes. Yet here we are- 2012- in Plymouth, Minnesota, receiving blessings from a blessed neighbor, a wise preacher, a...Presbyterian!
I pray you find Pastor Ewen as profound and engaging as I’ve come to regard him. After all, when we put unity before division, togetherness before denigration, it turns out we’ve all got many great gifts to receive and share.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Equality…
I’ve struggled for months now with whether or not to write this letter. As a Disciples of Christ minister, I believe fundamentally in unity. We avoid doctrinal litmus tests for membership in our faith community. We can believe different ideas- about God, the Bible, Jesus- and yet still, by the unconquerable grace of God, be one.
As a consequence, I also believe that all are welcome at Christ’s Table. No matter who you are, what you’ve done, where you come from, you are welcomed, by Jesus. Nothing is more critical, more inspiring to my religious identity than that declaration. I desire, I need to live as openly as I can muster; to invite myself and others to receive the eternally renewing love of God.
Which is why I intend, on November 6, to vote against the Minnesota amendment to limit our state constitution’s definition of marriage. You know the issue. A ballot question will ask us to affirm that marriage in our state should be constricted only to heterosexual men and women. Some Christian communities, of course, have strongly advocated support for that ballot question. They’re convinced that faithful Christianity only endorses marriage for one man and one woman. As I’ve preached to you before, I grew up in such churches. However, during high school, one of my best friends and Christian mentors came out of closet. She told her family and Christian community that she was a lesbian. And they condemned her. Called her evil. Basically kicked her out of the community of grace.
So I was, initially, unsure how to respond. I’d been taught that I too should reject my friend’s declaration. The Bible, in a few instances, seems to denigrate homosexual behavior. Yet in many, many more instances, it celebrates the supernatural reality of love. Indeed, 1 John claims that, “God is love,” seemingly lauding all occasions of authentic love as divine. And I love my lesbian friend. She loves her wife. Ultimately, then, I faced a choice: support the traditional view of marriage and sexuality or support my friend’s love.
I chose love. I still do. I can’t imagine Jesus denying God’s hospitality to gay women or men, to anyone. Yet I know my view on this issue isn’t shared by all my sisters and brothers of faith. To some extent, that troubles me. Don’t we all want others to agree with us?! To another extent, though, I accept that my views aren’t, and shouldn’t be, the final word. Plus, I’m the pastor of wonderful people who don’t always see eye-to-eye. You have diverse spiritual beliefs, political convictions, and I’m so very glad that’s true. So few places in our fragmented society can people of differing viewpoints still come together. Thank God we Disciples declare unity our Polar Star!
So I’ve worried that expressing my personal view on this issue would cause division or disrupt the good work we do. I mean, it’s one thing if a church member says something to another during fellowship hour. But it feels more consequential for the pastor to stake out a potentially controversial position. Nevertheless, I’ve battled a need to be authentic. With you. With myself. Before God. And because I’m concerned with what I see as the demeaning consequences of this vote, I simply felt I can’t be silent. I want all God’s children to be accepted.
I know that political issues are often, and perhaps for good reason, avoided in our community. Our church members will vote for different presidential candidates, political policies and parties. While I believe strongly in the votes I’ll cast, I respect those who differ from me. Because I know you, and love you, and believe you’re voting what you think is right and holy and good. Even if it’s different from me. Even if you vote in favor of this amendment.
But I also believe that Christians shouldn’t fear to speak their minds. And I’m convinced that if we enshrined in our state constitution a definition of marriage that the only acceptable kind was heterosexual, man and woman, then we’d limit the equality of love that God intended. To me, that’s a direct consequence of my most fundamental belief: God is love.
If you agree with me, please vote No with me. If you’re unsure, please call. I’d love to talk. If you don’t agree, then vote against me. I support your decision to follow your own conscience. But in all things, I pray we stay focused on the everlasting power that unites us always- The grace and blessing of our resurrected Savior, Light of the World, God of Love.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
As a consequence, I also believe that all are welcome at Christ’s Table. No matter who you are, what you’ve done, where you come from, you are welcomed, by Jesus. Nothing is more critical, more inspiring to my religious identity than that declaration. I desire, I need to live as openly as I can muster; to invite myself and others to receive the eternally renewing love of God.
Which is why I intend, on November 6, to vote against the Minnesota amendment to limit our state constitution’s definition of marriage. You know the issue. A ballot question will ask us to affirm that marriage in our state should be constricted only to heterosexual men and women. Some Christian communities, of course, have strongly advocated support for that ballot question. They’re convinced that faithful Christianity only endorses marriage for one man and one woman. As I’ve preached to you before, I grew up in such churches. However, during high school, one of my best friends and Christian mentors came out of closet. She told her family and Christian community that she was a lesbian. And they condemned her. Called her evil. Basically kicked her out of the community of grace.
So I was, initially, unsure how to respond. I’d been taught that I too should reject my friend’s declaration. The Bible, in a few instances, seems to denigrate homosexual behavior. Yet in many, many more instances, it celebrates the supernatural reality of love. Indeed, 1 John claims that, “God is love,” seemingly lauding all occasions of authentic love as divine. And I love my lesbian friend. She loves her wife. Ultimately, then, I faced a choice: support the traditional view of marriage and sexuality or support my friend’s love.
I chose love. I still do. I can’t imagine Jesus denying God’s hospitality to gay women or men, to anyone. Yet I know my view on this issue isn’t shared by all my sisters and brothers of faith. To some extent, that troubles me. Don’t we all want others to agree with us?! To another extent, though, I accept that my views aren’t, and shouldn’t be, the final word. Plus, I’m the pastor of wonderful people who don’t always see eye-to-eye. You have diverse spiritual beliefs, political convictions, and I’m so very glad that’s true. So few places in our fragmented society can people of differing viewpoints still come together. Thank God we Disciples declare unity our Polar Star!
So I’ve worried that expressing my personal view on this issue would cause division or disrupt the good work we do. I mean, it’s one thing if a church member says something to another during fellowship hour. But it feels more consequential for the pastor to stake out a potentially controversial position. Nevertheless, I’ve battled a need to be authentic. With you. With myself. Before God. And because I’m concerned with what I see as the demeaning consequences of this vote, I simply felt I can’t be silent. I want all God’s children to be accepted.
I know that political issues are often, and perhaps for good reason, avoided in our community. Our church members will vote for different presidential candidates, political policies and parties. While I believe strongly in the votes I’ll cast, I respect those who differ from me. Because I know you, and love you, and believe you’re voting what you think is right and holy and good. Even if it’s different from me. Even if you vote in favor of this amendment.
But I also believe that Christians shouldn’t fear to speak their minds. And I’m convinced that if we enshrined in our state constitution a definition of marriage that the only acceptable kind was heterosexual, man and woman, then we’d limit the equality of love that God intended. To me, that’s a direct consequence of my most fundamental belief: God is love.
If you agree with me, please vote No with me. If you’re unsure, please call. I’d love to talk. If you don’t agree, then vote against me. I support your decision to follow your own conscience. But in all things, I pray we stay focused on the everlasting power that unites us always- The grace and blessing of our resurrected Savior, Light of the World, God of Love.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Raising voices…
Soccer fans, the world over, love to sing. In pubs after games. In, well, pubs before games. And during games especially, at the stadiums, loudly. Fans create lyrics to popular ditties that celebrate their favored teams’ prowess, or mock chosen rivals. They raise their voices constantly, broken only by rare moments when players actually score. You can hear this tumult during soccer broadcasts, a perpetual hum beneath TV announcers. As a soccer fan, I love the spectacle. I’d sing along if I knew the words!
Well, a few weeks back, the USA national soccer team was playing. And as per usual at sporting events, just before kickoff, someone sang the national anthem. You know the drill. A person on the field belts The Star Spangled Banner with gusto. The home crowd might sing along, but barely audible, right? Usually the solo performer controls the tempo, the pitch, holding “Land of the Freeeee” longer than necessary. Sometimes the performance is understated. Sometimes it’s defiantly unique. But always, Always, the solo performer carries the song.
Except in this instance. At this game, the Kansas City crowd acted like…soccer fans. They sang along to the national anthem. Loudly. Brazenly. Thus, they utterly ignored the unspoken expectation that the on-field singer controls the singing. It was almost comical, if you ask me. The singer set one tempo, the crowd followed, until the singer slowed down for a run of vocal gymnastics. Meaning suddenly, she was totally out-of-synch with the crowd, who lumbered along. A kind of vocal battle ensued. The singer kept on as planned, forcing the fans back in step, until another miscommunication occurred and another readjustment was required. It was as surreal a national anthem as I’ve ever witnessed.
And it seemed like an unplanned metaphor worth me reading too much into. For isn’t life frequently styled a conflict between individual initiative and crowd mentality? On the one hand is the lone singer, the heroically creative savant. S/he bucks the trend, tries something new, overwhelms the masses through brilliance. On the other hand is the teeming throng, following the beat of a boring drummer. Slovenly devoted to the status quo, this collective deplores inventiveness.
Shane, you’ll say, that’s waaaay too simple a diagnosis of modern society. And you’re right, but it’s believed by many. Besides, it helps me make a point… Which is that I believe something that’s possible- not pervasive, but it happens- is that sometimes a crowd creates something spectacular. Creativity, in other words, can be as communal as it can be singular. Take Wikipedia. It’s a publicly controlled encyclopedia where anyone’s allowed to edit and input information. Some deplore this ‘open source’ method as obviously susceptible to error. Yet some studies found that in many instances it’s as reliable as Encyclopedia Britannica. When writing research papers, you should use more academic sources. But as a quick primer on unknown subjects, free-to-use Wikipedia’s quite useful.
Or take religion. Many believe that religious ideas result primarily from lone champions. Paul. St. Francis. Mother Theresa. I, too, celebrate these faith heroes, but the whole story is bigger. It’s also one of communities discovering new avenues of spirituality and compassion, together. Like Disciples on the American frontier, coming together for the sake of Unity. Like bunches of African-American churches, working together for Civil Rights. In both instances, celebrated leaders often get the credit. But Barton Stone and MKL Jr. wouldn’t have been as effective without creative crowds urging them on.
Which is why, for at least that one game, I’d have loved if this happened: Once the national anthem singer realized that this crowd was so excited to sing, so excited to support their team, so energized to laud their nation that they sang loudly, proudly, together, as one, then rather than raise her voice above their voices, rather than struggle for Star Spangled supremacy, she dropped the mic, smiled at the stands and joined the communal singing. It wouldn’t have solved our country’s disgusting divisiveness. It wouldn’t have redefined the national anthem. But for that moment, it would’ve symbolized that beautiful things can happen when we work as one.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Well, a few weeks back, the USA national soccer team was playing. And as per usual at sporting events, just before kickoff, someone sang the national anthem. You know the drill. A person on the field belts The Star Spangled Banner with gusto. The home crowd might sing along, but barely audible, right? Usually the solo performer controls the tempo, the pitch, holding “Land of the Freeeee” longer than necessary. Sometimes the performance is understated. Sometimes it’s defiantly unique. But always, Always, the solo performer carries the song.
Except in this instance. At this game, the Kansas City crowd acted like…soccer fans. They sang along to the national anthem. Loudly. Brazenly. Thus, they utterly ignored the unspoken expectation that the on-field singer controls the singing. It was almost comical, if you ask me. The singer set one tempo, the crowd followed, until the singer slowed down for a run of vocal gymnastics. Meaning suddenly, she was totally out-of-synch with the crowd, who lumbered along. A kind of vocal battle ensued. The singer kept on as planned, forcing the fans back in step, until another miscommunication occurred and another readjustment was required. It was as surreal a national anthem as I’ve ever witnessed.
And it seemed like an unplanned metaphor worth me reading too much into. For isn’t life frequently styled a conflict between individual initiative and crowd mentality? On the one hand is the lone singer, the heroically creative savant. S/he bucks the trend, tries something new, overwhelms the masses through brilliance. On the other hand is the teeming throng, following the beat of a boring drummer. Slovenly devoted to the status quo, this collective deplores inventiveness.
Shane, you’ll say, that’s waaaay too simple a diagnosis of modern society. And you’re right, but it’s believed by many. Besides, it helps me make a point… Which is that I believe something that’s possible- not pervasive, but it happens- is that sometimes a crowd creates something spectacular. Creativity, in other words, can be as communal as it can be singular. Take Wikipedia. It’s a publicly controlled encyclopedia where anyone’s allowed to edit and input information. Some deplore this ‘open source’ method as obviously susceptible to error. Yet some studies found that in many instances it’s as reliable as Encyclopedia Britannica. When writing research papers, you should use more academic sources. But as a quick primer on unknown subjects, free-to-use Wikipedia’s quite useful.
Or take religion. Many believe that religious ideas result primarily from lone champions. Paul. St. Francis. Mother Theresa. I, too, celebrate these faith heroes, but the whole story is bigger. It’s also one of communities discovering new avenues of spirituality and compassion, together. Like Disciples on the American frontier, coming together for the sake of Unity. Like bunches of African-American churches, working together for Civil Rights. In both instances, celebrated leaders often get the credit. But Barton Stone and MKL Jr. wouldn’t have been as effective without creative crowds urging them on.
Which is why, for at least that one game, I’d have loved if this happened: Once the national anthem singer realized that this crowd was so excited to sing, so excited to support their team, so energized to laud their nation that they sang loudly, proudly, together, as one, then rather than raise her voice above their voices, rather than struggle for Star Spangled supremacy, she dropped the mic, smiled at the stands and joined the communal singing. It wouldn’t have solved our country’s disgusting divisiveness. It wouldn’t have redefined the national anthem. But for that moment, it would’ve symbolized that beautiful things can happen when we work as one.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Broken windows…
The first church I joined in adulthood was Iglesia del Pueblo Christian Church in Hammond, Indiana. Why? Well, during my initial visit, a guy named Joe welcomed me with gusto! His wasn’t the quick handshake, “Nice to see you,” then forget you kind of greeting. He took much of the morning learning who I was, sharing who he was, laughing and talking with me. Not everyone’s like Joe, of course. He’s extroverted to the nth degree! But because he cared so much, not just about being nice, but really welcoming me, I felt immediately at peace in a new place. It began to fell home.
Anyway, as I became a fuller part of IDP’s life, I learned of a brewing controversy about broken windows. IDP wasn’t rich; some immigrants and many blue collar workers. But they cared deeply about their church home and using it to shine God’s light of love. Alas, over time, a window or two had cracked. So the debate was, “Should we fix it, or do we have better uses for our resources?” On the one hand, people wondered whether potential visitors would shy away from a church with apparently shoddy facilities. Appearances aren’t everything, they’d say, but they matter for building confidence. On other hand, some thought that feeding the poor was a higher priority. IDP ran weekly soup lunches for local homeless folk, often reached out to those in need in their struggling local environment. The windows still work, they said, not perfectly, but well enough. So let’s direct what we have to those in fragile situations.
I’ve been pondering this memory a lot recently, since we’ve been running a Capital Campaign at Plymouth Creek. We too have some broken windows, crumbling parking lots, etc. But our community also has poor folk in need, families struggling to make ends meet and feel at peace. I’ll be honest. At IDP, I was on the “don’t fix the windows” side. I was still new, of course, hadn’t invested much already in the infrastructure. But I felt strongly- and still do- that the point of church isn’t buildings. The reason we worship, gather in fellowship, give together and such is so, in Jesus’ words, “The Kingdom of God will come on earth as it is heaven.” Love matters more than broken windows. Meeting the needs of those in need trumps parking lots or pretty carpets every time.
Which isn’t to say I don’t believe in our Capital Campaign! Indeed, my wife and I pledged good money to help this effort be successful. But on some level, I feel a tension about this giving, a sense of the risk we’re taking. We could do as some churches do, letting a facilities’ update be a culmination. We could act like a spiffy new shine accomplishes our ultimate purpose for being a community of faith.
Or we could be earnest, bold, engaged disciples of Jesus Christ, and commit ourselves to using this rejuvenated physical plant as a springboard for greater mission. I, for one, am not attracted by churches who pat themselves on the back for looking nice. I’m inspired, rather, by gutsy communities who roll up their sleeves and work. Who resurface parking lots so they can fill parking lots with worshippers and folk seeking help. Who invest in hospitable entry ways so kids and grandmothers have inviting places to form meaningful relationships. Who redo leaking windows because they believe in good stewardship of God’s Creation, then redouble that Creation Care through community gardening, recycling, composting and more.
Because I believe in Plymouth Creek- not the building or facilities, but the people and the facilities- and because I believe we’ll keep our priorities in line, I give and remain excited. Is it risky to do what we’re doing? Could we finish the facility improvements then not redouble our efforts at actually “doing church”? Sure, it’s possible. But more likely is you’ll shine brighter with God’s light of love. Because that’s who we’ve been, and it’s who we are. Let’s make sure it continues to lead us forward.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Anyway, as I became a fuller part of IDP’s life, I learned of a brewing controversy about broken windows. IDP wasn’t rich; some immigrants and many blue collar workers. But they cared deeply about their church home and using it to shine God’s light of love. Alas, over time, a window or two had cracked. So the debate was, “Should we fix it, or do we have better uses for our resources?” On the one hand, people wondered whether potential visitors would shy away from a church with apparently shoddy facilities. Appearances aren’t everything, they’d say, but they matter for building confidence. On other hand, some thought that feeding the poor was a higher priority. IDP ran weekly soup lunches for local homeless folk, often reached out to those in need in their struggling local environment. The windows still work, they said, not perfectly, but well enough. So let’s direct what we have to those in fragile situations.
I’ve been pondering this memory a lot recently, since we’ve been running a Capital Campaign at Plymouth Creek. We too have some broken windows, crumbling parking lots, etc. But our community also has poor folk in need, families struggling to make ends meet and feel at peace. I’ll be honest. At IDP, I was on the “don’t fix the windows” side. I was still new, of course, hadn’t invested much already in the infrastructure. But I felt strongly- and still do- that the point of church isn’t buildings. The reason we worship, gather in fellowship, give together and such is so, in Jesus’ words, “The Kingdom of God will come on earth as it is heaven.” Love matters more than broken windows. Meeting the needs of those in need trumps parking lots or pretty carpets every time.
Which isn’t to say I don’t believe in our Capital Campaign! Indeed, my wife and I pledged good money to help this effort be successful. But on some level, I feel a tension about this giving, a sense of the risk we’re taking. We could do as some churches do, letting a facilities’ update be a culmination. We could act like a spiffy new shine accomplishes our ultimate purpose for being a community of faith.
Or we could be earnest, bold, engaged disciples of Jesus Christ, and commit ourselves to using this rejuvenated physical plant as a springboard for greater mission. I, for one, am not attracted by churches who pat themselves on the back for looking nice. I’m inspired, rather, by gutsy communities who roll up their sleeves and work. Who resurface parking lots so they can fill parking lots with worshippers and folk seeking help. Who invest in hospitable entry ways so kids and grandmothers have inviting places to form meaningful relationships. Who redo leaking windows because they believe in good stewardship of God’s Creation, then redouble that Creation Care through community gardening, recycling, composting and more.
Because I believe in Plymouth Creek- not the building or facilities, but the people and the facilities- and because I believe we’ll keep our priorities in line, I give and remain excited. Is it risky to do what we’re doing? Could we finish the facility improvements then not redouble our efforts at actually “doing church”? Sure, it’s possible. But more likely is you’ll shine brighter with God’s light of love. Because that’s who we’ve been, and it’s who we are. Let’s make sure it continues to lead us forward.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Deliver us…
“Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.” I suspect everyone recognizes this snippet from Jesus’ timeless, Lord’s Prayer. Although, as we also know, several varieties are used. The churches of my childhood preferred, “Forgive us our trespasses.” But the original word- ὀφείλημα pronounced, o-feh-lay-mah- means “debts,” as in money or services owed by one party to another.
Of course, since Jesus originally uttered it, it’s been commonly understood as a metaphor for sin. But scholars tell us that Jesus wasn’t just being metaphorical. Among poor, common people of his day- i.e. 90% of the population and those to whom he ministered mostly- farming, land-use, and tax debt was everyday fair. More than that, debt was crushing, a cause of widespread poverty. Many families couldn’t own the land they worked, due to high indebtedness. And those who did own often lost land to wealthy city residents who piled high debts on these peasants. They, after all, had to buy seed, farm implements and daily bread, pay temple or imperial taxes, and when harvests were tight, emergency capital was scarce. Thus, a debt industry grew to tide peasant folk through tough times, but when better times came, rarely could they work out of trouble.
Not surprising, then, that Jesus used “debts” in his famous prayer. For his ministry partners and recipients, this turmoil routinely shackled their families. To be forgiven one’s debts meant, literally, a new lease on life. And to forgive one’s debtors- folk rarely viewed with kindness and compassion- meant an act of spiritual powerlifting, a profoundly daring idea.
The prayer’s on my mind this week because I just finished a remarkable book. Titled, White House Burning: The Founding Fathers, Our National Debt and Why It Matters to You, it’s a history of America’s national indebtedness, and a treatise on how our nation might respond to the debt we collectively face. I found the book quite accessible to those not fully versed in economics, like me. I wasn’t entirely ignorant before reading, but now feel much more comfortable with the subject.
And, frankly, I’m a bit worried, not terrified, but concerned. For, truly, the consequences of unchecked debt could be stunningly…icky. Many of us know this personally; I cringe monthly at the student loan payments I make. I’m not ashamed of that debt, since it purchased an education that helps me be a better minister for this church. Still, it’ll be decades until I can shout, “Yeah! I’m debt free!” And think of all the Broncos jerseys that money could buy in the meantime…
On a national level, too, I’m not (entirely) ashamed of our debt. As the book described, in many cases it resulted from decisions our people made to make our lives better. Factions from differing political camps might (do!) take issue with some of those decisions or others. Still, in theory at least, our historically high standard of living derives from collective action we’ve taken.
But we’ve financed some of that action, not from current income, but through future borrowing. And as everyone with loans knows, the paymaster always cometh. In the coming national election, both major parties appear concerned about the debt. At least in theory, they offer competing proposals for how to tackle it, eventually. I won’t weigh in on who I think offers the best proposal, except to say I’m skeptical that either side seems really, truly committed. Still, I’d hope that every voter has an idea for how s/he’d want us to “forgive us our debts”.
Because the issue, as I see it, is that indebtedness isn’t an acceptable long-term strategy. Whether that debt is to your neighbor, for having hurt her with rudeness, to God, for having denied God’s call for justice, love and compassion, or to future generations, for having avoided responsible decisions to avert potential catastrophes of national default or environmental devastation, we ought desire forgiveness and reconciliation, not shutting our eyes and ears. After all, the ultimate goal isn’t getting all we want, whenever we want, to heck with the consequences. It’s to help “God’s Kingdom come on earth,” as best we’re able. Working together.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Goodness…
So… Apparently, Jesus had a wife. Or may’ve had a wife. Or some Christians once thought it was possible. Or something.
I refer, of course, to a news story that broke recently. It seems a Harvard Divinity School professor, a few years back, came upon an allegedly ancient fragment of papyrus. Written in 4th-century Egyptian (Coptic), it contained the phrase, “Jesus said unto them, ‘My wife...’” Since then, she’s subjected the document to archeological testing, written a journal article for peer review, and last month presented her work to an academic conference. As researchers do.
Recap: previously unknown words penned no earlier than three hundred years after Jesus’ death show Jesus muttering “my wife”, though the papyrus ends before further illumination can arise. Intriguing as a potential, albeit limited, window into 4th century Coptic Christianity and its diverse ideas? Sure. Useful evidence for constructing an historically rigorous picture of Mr. (and Mrs.?) Christ’s home-life? Not so much.
Therefore naturally, for a few days after the aforementioned conference, worldwide news organizations went ballistic! “Jesus was married?! OMJesus! God the Father was an in-law?!” I suspect the coverage would’ve been less intense if The Da Vinci Code hadn’t made such a splash. But it did. So now news orgs know that possible suggestions that Jesus may have had (sex) a family produce heavy traffic. Hence it is that a boringly detailed academic non-event becomes global breaking news. So much so, local suburban pastors get sucked in enough to comment.
Honestly, I doubt Jesus was married. He seemed too…peripatetic. You know, walking here, walking there, never staying anywhere all that long. Not terribly effective for nurturing an intimate relationship, right? But maybe he was. If so, good for him. It wouldn’t matter to my faith, I think. Although some Christians consider the suggestion itself evil, blasphemous, dirty.
And that has to do with sex. At least, that’s my guess. After all, we Christians have long had an awkward relationship with sexuality of all kinds. As I understand it, long ago some theologians speculatively separated the human self into Spirit v Flesh (mis-taking cues from Paul’s writings). Spirit they called good, obviously. Flesh, therefore, was bad. And though Flesh could’ve referenced many diverse things, what really got these folks worked up was carnal activity.
Which makes a kind of sense, right? Sexuality is powerful, and sometimes dangerous, and when abused, sometimes destructive to families. And family is about the most important force in human civilization. But it’s a long jump to go from those admissions to, “Only sex for the purpose of procreation is admissible, and then it’s simply tolerated.” Yet for centuries, that was more or less official Western Christian policy (strangely overlooking that healthy sexuality is highly beneficial to families).
Anyway, fast forward to now, and we’re still dealing with baggage from this centuries-long skepticism or derision of sexuality. It shows up, maybe comically, in the oversized attention the above mentioned news story received. It shows up, less comically, in the bitter fights we’re having about narrowly defining marriage in the Minnesota constitution.
But I wonder if, wherever you stand on those or other sexuality-related issues, we’d have more productive conversations if we all read Song of Songs again. And recognized the delight it takes in humanity, in “flesh”. It too acknowledges the dangers of (especially immature) sexuality. But in the context of loving commitment, this Bible book says more. Apparently, it believes we’re created, as Genesis 1 put it, “good.” Which isn’t, “Without the possibility of evil and abuse.” But rather, “Full of possibility for beauty.”
And that’s true for all humans- male, female, Jesus! Sin hasn’t so infected our “flesh” we’re incapable of doing things good and right and wonderful. Whether we’re talking sexuality or feeding the hungry or building just, decent communities, we may mess up at times, but we don’t always have to. Indeed, I believe that Jesus came to show us what more was possible if we’d better acknowledge and utilize- with God’s help!- the power within us. If we’d more joyfully and respectfully honor the creative image of our Creator God, imprinted on our spirit and flesh. And our neighbors.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
I refer, of course, to a news story that broke recently. It seems a Harvard Divinity School professor, a few years back, came upon an allegedly ancient fragment of papyrus. Written in 4th-century Egyptian (Coptic), it contained the phrase, “Jesus said unto them, ‘My wife...’” Since then, she’s subjected the document to archeological testing, written a journal article for peer review, and last month presented her work to an academic conference. As researchers do.
Recap: previously unknown words penned no earlier than three hundred years after Jesus’ death show Jesus muttering “my wife”, though the papyrus ends before further illumination can arise. Intriguing as a potential, albeit limited, window into 4th century Coptic Christianity and its diverse ideas? Sure. Useful evidence for constructing an historically rigorous picture of Mr. (and Mrs.?) Christ’s home-life? Not so much.
Therefore naturally, for a few days after the aforementioned conference, worldwide news organizations went ballistic! “Jesus was married?! OMJesus! God the Father was an in-law?!” I suspect the coverage would’ve been less intense if The Da Vinci Code hadn’t made such a splash. But it did. So now news orgs know that possible suggestions that Jesus may have had (sex) a family produce heavy traffic. Hence it is that a boringly detailed academic non-event becomes global breaking news. So much so, local suburban pastors get sucked in enough to comment.
Honestly, I doubt Jesus was married. He seemed too…peripatetic. You know, walking here, walking there, never staying anywhere all that long. Not terribly effective for nurturing an intimate relationship, right? But maybe he was. If so, good for him. It wouldn’t matter to my faith, I think. Although some Christians consider the suggestion itself evil, blasphemous, dirty.
And that has to do with sex. At least, that’s my guess. After all, we Christians have long had an awkward relationship with sexuality of all kinds. As I understand it, long ago some theologians speculatively separated the human self into Spirit v Flesh (mis-taking cues from Paul’s writings). Spirit they called good, obviously. Flesh, therefore, was bad. And though Flesh could’ve referenced many diverse things, what really got these folks worked up was carnal activity.
Which makes a kind of sense, right? Sexuality is powerful, and sometimes dangerous, and when abused, sometimes destructive to families. And family is about the most important force in human civilization. But it’s a long jump to go from those admissions to, “Only sex for the purpose of procreation is admissible, and then it’s simply tolerated.” Yet for centuries, that was more or less official Western Christian policy (strangely overlooking that healthy sexuality is highly beneficial to families).
Anyway, fast forward to now, and we’re still dealing with baggage from this centuries-long skepticism or derision of sexuality. It shows up, maybe comically, in the oversized attention the above mentioned news story received. It shows up, less comically, in the bitter fights we’re having about narrowly defining marriage in the Minnesota constitution.
But I wonder if, wherever you stand on those or other sexuality-related issues, we’d have more productive conversations if we all read Song of Songs again. And recognized the delight it takes in humanity, in “flesh”. It too acknowledges the dangers of (especially immature) sexuality. But in the context of loving commitment, this Bible book says more. Apparently, it believes we’re created, as Genesis 1 put it, “good.” Which isn’t, “Without the possibility of evil and abuse.” But rather, “Full of possibility for beauty.”
And that’s true for all humans- male, female, Jesus! Sin hasn’t so infected our “flesh” we’re incapable of doing things good and right and wonderful. Whether we’re talking sexuality or feeding the hungry or building just, decent communities, we may mess up at times, but we don’t always have to. Indeed, I believe that Jesus came to show us what more was possible if we’d better acknowledge and utilize- with God’s help!- the power within us. If we’d more joyfully and respectfully honor the creative image of our Creator God, imprinted on our spirit and flesh. And our neighbors.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
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