Human life in this age places value on experience. Each experience elicits a degree of response. A television program can be watched with varied responses. The responses can be laid out on a continuum. Some responses offer a short shelf-life: "can you believe that American Idol vote last night?" Each episode will only be dissected for so long for some. For others, the episode may accumulate with others and inspire a vocal performance career.
Any experience offers an opportunity for interpretation. I have attended numerous continuing education events over the years. Each learning experience, though varied in content, offered a very similar structure. A speaker/teacher of great repute travels and meets traveling participants for a provision of information. It's like I back my empty informational truck into a dock for a load of information. Though the content may be complex, the transaction is simple. I pay money. I receive information. I receive a binder or folder full of notes and handouts I will not likely crack open again. I receive a Power Point file attached to an email that clogs a memory stick or sits on my hard drive. I may have more information, but the information nourishes my body as if I attempted nourishment by swallowing a palm full of vitamins without eating any food. The intake at a conference may hold nutritive qualities, but the information isn't sticky. The typical workshop/conference/symposium in church circles fails the stickiness test. My library is a testimony to this observation. I store many binders with hope of using the material again, yet I often don't. This failure doesn't speak to the quality of the information, but the context in which it was delivered. Every educational experience challenges the participant to interpret the information to their own context. Conference hosts over the years have recognized that more people from each context increases the stickiness of the information (Bring a group! Save money! Broaden the application!) but the methodology still lacks the stickiness necessary for integration.
Unconference11 was a powerful experience for me. Not only because it represented a spiritual milestone for me, but because there was something incarnational about it. Fleshy and sticky. There was not only information shared, but relationships were graciously hosted with God and others. Every participant was given the opportunity to contribute and be respected. This is not what usually comes out of a conference. The ethos of a typical conference resembles a rock concert. If only you can get close to the star, get a backstage pass, some of that star quality might rub off into your context.
Last night I ate dinner with good friends who, like me have attended numerous conferences and workshops. They know the routine. Talk about the greatness of the speaker, the cutting edge discovery or technique, the idea that will change our contexts. I realized last night that I couldn't explain the experience in the same way that I have explained other learning events covering about 20 years of my life.
The challenge of interpreting Unconference11 remains. What will matter in these weeks ahead? First of all, I gathered with a small group of folks passionate about subversive and new ministry developments. I hope to resource this group of people as I enter into a trajectory of ministry new to me. I am thankful for that opportunity. Most of all, the interpretive challenge of Unco11 will not be whether I can share what exactly I learned and experienced among friends. I was respected. I was valued. I was given the opportunity to contribute both truth and beauty. I was healed and loved. No "conference" I have ever attended has done that. My inclination is that though my work and life in the church looks a lot like the conferences I have attended for 20 years--a lot of vitamins, but no nourishment. The interpretive challenge is not that I can replicate Unco11 in my context, but whether in my context I can share in the work of healing, respect, love and creativity. This sounds a lot like Jesus to me.
Showing posts with label suffering. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suffering. Show all posts
Friday, May 20, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
Another untimely review: Conviction
What am I willing to sacrifice in order to pursue a life passion? Does a life passion take on a different scope if that passion is a family member?
At one point in the film Conviction, Betty Anne Waters (Hilary Swank) has been advocating and fighting for her brother (Sam Rockwell), convicted of murder for nearly two decades. She sacrificed her marriage (it ended in divorce) and nearly gave up her relationships with her children in order to prove her brother was wrongly convicted. Waters graduated from law school and passed the bar in order to serve as her brother's council for his murder case. She went through well over a decade without a friend, except for a fellow law student (Minnie Driver) who doggedly befriended Waters and endured Waters' tireless work and persistence in obtaining anything that could help her brother. In a conversation with her two teenage sons, one of the sons states that Betty had given up her live to save Uncle Kenny. Waters paused, looked at her son incredulously, as if the concept of sacrifice never crossed her mind.
The title of the film is a perfect play on words and a deep reflection on the nature of passion. Surely, it is a good story about the pitfalls of any justice system, but for me this was a film about the relationship between conviction and passion. Waters was depicted as someone who did not see herself as passionate or one who sacrificed. The other question that came up in conversation about the story with my wife was whether Waters' relationship with her brother was unhealthy. This was a sibling pair who could be analyzed in psychological parlance as "fused," rooted in growing up together in an abusive household. I wonder if Waters (as she is depicted) is a Christ-like figure. Christians for centuries have written, taught and preached to fellow Christians and the world that we should reflect and embody Christ's "sacrifice" for humanity. I am not a Christian proponent of a sacrificial Christology. The sacrificial nomenclature is hard to escape in the Bible and Christian theology, and I though I don't wholeheartedly reject it, I don't embrace it.
Looking into the character of Waters and her (loving? obsessing?) pursuit of securing the freedom of her brother, I can't help but think of Jesus. In my limited knowledge of the Bible and theology, I can't recall anyone who bothered to ask Jesus whether he believed that his death was a sacrifice to him (and I would be glad to learn from my readers where I could find further reading on this topic) or whether theology has bothered to ask the question about the nature of sacrifice as it relates to love. In addition, how is a sacrifice beneficial (or even loving) to a relationship if the person who made the sacrifice for the "sake of the relationship" has to constantly remind the other person that they made the sacrifice in the first place?
Over the years in my life of Christian faith, I've been asked to accept the idea of Christ's sacrifice at face value, that I had better appreciate it and think about it to the point of guilt and shame. Only then will I have faith. Until my work with my theological education teachers (mostly Pat Keifert and Walter Sundberg at Luther Seminary) I had not considered the multiple dimensions of sacrifice in the Christian faith and theological discourse. Conviction serves as a reminder of the multiple dimensions of understanding sacrifices and relationships. There's plenty of guilt and shame to go around in the world, and I am thankful for the love and grace I have received in the body of Christ. Many have lovingly given in more ways than I can count so that I may have a better life (did they always see it as a sacrifice?). Watching Conviction offered me some new questions and insights to the interplay of love, justice, sacrifice, guilt and relationships. It wasn't a sacrifice for me to give up four dollars and two hours to watch the film.
At one point in the film Conviction, Betty Anne Waters (Hilary Swank) has been advocating and fighting for her brother (Sam Rockwell), convicted of murder for nearly two decades. She sacrificed her marriage (it ended in divorce) and nearly gave up her relationships with her children in order to prove her brother was wrongly convicted. Waters graduated from law school and passed the bar in order to serve as her brother's council for his murder case. She went through well over a decade without a friend, except for a fellow law student (Minnie Driver) who doggedly befriended Waters and endured Waters' tireless work and persistence in obtaining anything that could help her brother. In a conversation with her two teenage sons, one of the sons states that Betty had given up her live to save Uncle Kenny. Waters paused, looked at her son incredulously, as if the concept of sacrifice never crossed her mind.
The title of the film is a perfect play on words and a deep reflection on the nature of passion. Surely, it is a good story about the pitfalls of any justice system, but for me this was a film about the relationship between conviction and passion. Waters was depicted as someone who did not see herself as passionate or one who sacrificed. The other question that came up in conversation about the story with my wife was whether Waters' relationship with her brother was unhealthy. This was a sibling pair who could be analyzed in psychological parlance as "fused," rooted in growing up together in an abusive household. I wonder if Waters (as she is depicted) is a Christ-like figure. Christians for centuries have written, taught and preached to fellow Christians and the world that we should reflect and embody Christ's "sacrifice" for humanity. I am not a Christian proponent of a sacrificial Christology. The sacrificial nomenclature is hard to escape in the Bible and Christian theology, and I though I don't wholeheartedly reject it, I don't embrace it.
Looking into the character of Waters and her (loving? obsessing?) pursuit of securing the freedom of her brother, I can't help but think of Jesus. In my limited knowledge of the Bible and theology, I can't recall anyone who bothered to ask Jesus whether he believed that his death was a sacrifice to him (and I would be glad to learn from my readers where I could find further reading on this topic) or whether theology has bothered to ask the question about the nature of sacrifice as it relates to love. In addition, how is a sacrifice beneficial (or even loving) to a relationship if the person who made the sacrifice for the "sake of the relationship" has to constantly remind the other person that they made the sacrifice in the first place?
Over the years in my life of Christian faith, I've been asked to accept the idea of Christ's sacrifice at face value, that I had better appreciate it and think about it to the point of guilt and shame. Only then will I have faith. Until my work with my theological education teachers (mostly Pat Keifert and Walter Sundberg at Luther Seminary) I had not considered the multiple dimensions of sacrifice in the Christian faith and theological discourse. Conviction serves as a reminder of the multiple dimensions of understanding sacrifices and relationships. There's plenty of guilt and shame to go around in the world, and I am thankful for the love and grace I have received in the body of Christ. Many have lovingly given in more ways than I can count so that I may have a better life (did they always see it as a sacrifice?). Watching Conviction offered me some new questions and insights to the interplay of love, justice, sacrifice, guilt and relationships. It wasn't a sacrifice for me to give up four dollars and two hours to watch the film.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Getting my vision checked helps me participate in revelation
I picked up my new glasses the other day. I like to hear responses about new things.
"I didn't know you wore glasses!"
"You always had such good vision when you were younger."
True. I remember some eye tests from my teenage years. My 20/10 vision was a badge of honor, especially as a baseball player who took pride in an ability to take a pitch and hit about anything in the strike zone or near it. If I was fooled into swinging I could at least foul it off. I wasn't much for power, but I hit a lot of singles and doubles, and could take a walk. I linked a lot of my success to my gift of vision. I worked hard and cared for that gift. I took a lot of batting practice. I ate a lot of carrots to give nutrients to my eyes. Eventually, I conquered some fears and developed an ability to reach base by getting hit by pitches--visualizing where the ball was going to hit my body gave me the judgment about whether being hit would hurt me. Just get on base, baby. Some of my most admired hitters were rumored to have better than 20/20 vision--Rod Carew and George Brett. Their vision gift allowed them to play the game of baseball at a high level.
After receiving my first pair of glasses last year, I've learned a few lessons about vision. Some of these reflections may apply to the Christian life, or to life in general. I tend to look at these kinds of things in light of Christian spirituality, but if you want to use the imagery for vocation or relationships, be my guest.
1. My ability to see has probably been deteriorating for years. Once the eye stops growing in teenage-early adult years (as I've been studying my eye condition, presbyopia) the lens loses elasticity, and the eye begins to lose its ability to focus. The brain is quick to pick up on this change, and the loss of focus may not be noticed for years. This development in my life makes me think of my own vocation and congregational vocation. I remember when I first started recognizing my focus problems, I said to myself, "But I have better than normal vision! I have 20/10 vision! Maybe I haven't been getting enough sleep, or I need to be more attentive to nutrition. But I have 20/10 vision. This isn't really happening to me. I'm special." If I continued to cling to that old identity, I could eventually put myself in danger, or maybe my family or someone else. I could miss out on seeing something important, or lose my zest for learning and living because reading became more challenging. Congregations often take on the identity of their youthful experience, when they were filled with boundless energy and their creativity flowed. Friendships were growing. Ministry programs teemed with both resources and insight. Lives changed. People were cared for. The building couldn't contain the excitement. Then the ability to see the world around them changes, and they maintain they still have better than average vision. "This isn't really happening to us." The congregation loses its elasticity, unable to make adjustments to the world around them. They become rigid and start making statement familiar to many involved in the church, "we've never done it that way before."
2. If I didn't embrace a new way to see the world around me, I would miss out on some of the things that God is revealing. My first pair of glasses last year were a disaster. I went to an optical dealer (who shall remain nameless) who set me up with a pair of glasses that not only did not fit, but a prescription that continued to give me headaches. I was told by both the professionals and by friends that I would get over the headaches, just hang in there. The technology was there to help me, but I also had to take some ownership of the change, find another path and professional and say, "this isn't working. I need to try something else." Now I have a pair of glasses that not only fits my head, but hasn't given me a headache in three days (along with a really big plus--my wife says they look good on me--that I look "distinguished," giving me that look that I'm looking good). Embracing what God is revealing in the world is linked to a personal and congregational fear of failure. Once personal or congregational life deteriorates over a period of time, then a fear of failure to see and try new things can be the next obstacle, exacerbating the deterioration. Once I embraced the idea of wearing glasses, then went through the hassle of getting them, and then they didn't work, I considered giving up. I didn't want to deal with the headaches. But I was driven to see better, beyond the pain, and I tried the experience again. I am pleased with the results and ready to move forward.
For a more amusing version for movie lovers, consider Uncle Rico from Napoleon Dynamite--he spends most of the movie wondering what could have been and ruminating on the past, rather than looking toward the future. Rico is rigid about his understanding of the past, which inhibits his future.
I continue to return to the Baptism of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark and how the voice of God and the identity of Jesus is continually expanding its revelation--to Jesus himself, his followers, and the world. Being stuck in a previous identity and fearing the work of the future inhibits participation in the ongoing and expanding revelation of the power of God. I know I don't see perfectly, but I know that God is revealing anew all the time. I want to see it, and I have to be flexible with my vision in order to participate in the revelation of God.
"I didn't know you wore glasses!"
"You always had such good vision when you were younger."
True. I remember some eye tests from my teenage years. My 20/10 vision was a badge of honor, especially as a baseball player who took pride in an ability to take a pitch and hit about anything in the strike zone or near it. If I was fooled into swinging I could at least foul it off. I wasn't much for power, but I hit a lot of singles and doubles, and could take a walk. I linked a lot of my success to my gift of vision. I worked hard and cared for that gift. I took a lot of batting practice. I ate a lot of carrots to give nutrients to my eyes. Eventually, I conquered some fears and developed an ability to reach base by getting hit by pitches--visualizing where the ball was going to hit my body gave me the judgment about whether being hit would hurt me. Just get on base, baby. Some of my most admired hitters were rumored to have better than 20/20 vision--Rod Carew and George Brett. Their vision gift allowed them to play the game of baseball at a high level.
After receiving my first pair of glasses last year, I've learned a few lessons about vision. Some of these reflections may apply to the Christian life, or to life in general. I tend to look at these kinds of things in light of Christian spirituality, but if you want to use the imagery for vocation or relationships, be my guest.
1. My ability to see has probably been deteriorating for years. Once the eye stops growing in teenage-early adult years (as I've been studying my eye condition, presbyopia) the lens loses elasticity, and the eye begins to lose its ability to focus. The brain is quick to pick up on this change, and the loss of focus may not be noticed for years. This development in my life makes me think of my own vocation and congregational vocation. I remember when I first started recognizing my focus problems, I said to myself, "But I have better than normal vision! I have 20/10 vision! Maybe I haven't been getting enough sleep, or I need to be more attentive to nutrition. But I have 20/10 vision. This isn't really happening to me. I'm special." If I continued to cling to that old identity, I could eventually put myself in danger, or maybe my family or someone else. I could miss out on seeing something important, or lose my zest for learning and living because reading became more challenging. Congregations often take on the identity of their youthful experience, when they were filled with boundless energy and their creativity flowed. Friendships were growing. Ministry programs teemed with both resources and insight. Lives changed. People were cared for. The building couldn't contain the excitement. Then the ability to see the world around them changes, and they maintain they still have better than average vision. "This isn't really happening to us." The congregation loses its elasticity, unable to make adjustments to the world around them. They become rigid and start making statement familiar to many involved in the church, "we've never done it that way before."
2. If I didn't embrace a new way to see the world around me, I would miss out on some of the things that God is revealing. My first pair of glasses last year were a disaster. I went to an optical dealer (who shall remain nameless) who set me up with a pair of glasses that not only did not fit, but a prescription that continued to give me headaches. I was told by both the professionals and by friends that I would get over the headaches, just hang in there. The technology was there to help me, but I also had to take some ownership of the change, find another path and professional and say, "this isn't working. I need to try something else." Now I have a pair of glasses that not only fits my head, but hasn't given me a headache in three days (along with a really big plus--my wife says they look good on me--that I look "distinguished," giving me that look that I'm looking good). Embracing what God is revealing in the world is linked to a personal and congregational fear of failure. Once personal or congregational life deteriorates over a period of time, then a fear of failure to see and try new things can be the next obstacle, exacerbating the deterioration. Once I embraced the idea of wearing glasses, then went through the hassle of getting them, and then they didn't work, I considered giving up. I didn't want to deal with the headaches. But I was driven to see better, beyond the pain, and I tried the experience again. I am pleased with the results and ready to move forward.
For a more amusing version for movie lovers, consider Uncle Rico from Napoleon Dynamite--he spends most of the movie wondering what could have been and ruminating on the past, rather than looking toward the future. Rico is rigid about his understanding of the past, which inhibits his future.
I continue to return to the Baptism of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark and how the voice of God and the identity of Jesus is continually expanding its revelation--to Jesus himself, his followers, and the world. Being stuck in a previous identity and fearing the work of the future inhibits participation in the ongoing and expanding revelation of the power of God. I know I don't see perfectly, but I know that God is revealing anew all the time. I want to see it, and I have to be flexible with my vision in order to participate in the revelation of God.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Mysterious Lives of Church Councils (or fill in the name for your governing board)
(Note: I do not know if the following analysis applies to any congregational board. My only experience rests with ELCA church councils and a session of a Presbyterian (PCUSA) congregation.)
ELCA Lutheran church councils live mysterious lives in their congregations. Congregations look to their council for leadership, but they don't exactly know what they do. Even members who serve on a church council may not be able to describe exactly what they do. One tangible product is a church budget. The rest of the a council's activity becomes a series of decisions of varying worth, lacking strategic nature. Council votes and decisions tend to reflect the degree of urgency in congregational life. Sometimes there are lots of decisions to be made. Sometimes councils can meet for several consecutive months without taking a vote. I think people who serve on church boards appreciate learning about the grace of God through congregational activity, but the general frustration or ennui is palpable in the leadership meeting room.
I write this post because I believe church councils are misused assets. Even though its members spend hours each month attending meetings and managing particular areas of ministry, the gifts of leaders are buried because the council lacks purpose. Council members lack clarity of purpose for their participation. Congregations and councils often lament that so few people are willing to serve on the council. I'm surprised that anyone will serve on a council, especially when they know the purpose and direction of the council is lacking beyond a budget or a particular project. Even if projects and goals are clear and tangible for the council, individual council members lack understanding of expectations for themselves. Here are some common issues I have seen on the governing board in the 10 congregations I have served as pastor and numerous others with which I consulted. I place these issues in two categories.
1. Issues related to expectations for council members:
2. Issues related to basic philosophy and theology of the existence of a council.
ELCA Lutheran church councils live mysterious lives in their congregations. Congregations look to their council for leadership, but they don't exactly know what they do. Even members who serve on a church council may not be able to describe exactly what they do. One tangible product is a church budget. The rest of the a council's activity becomes a series of decisions of varying worth, lacking strategic nature. Council votes and decisions tend to reflect the degree of urgency in congregational life. Sometimes there are lots of decisions to be made. Sometimes councils can meet for several consecutive months without taking a vote. I think people who serve on church boards appreciate learning about the grace of God through congregational activity, but the general frustration or ennui is palpable in the leadership meeting room.
I write this post because I believe church councils are misused assets. Even though its members spend hours each month attending meetings and managing particular areas of ministry, the gifts of leaders are buried because the council lacks purpose. Council members lack clarity of purpose for their participation. Congregations and councils often lament that so few people are willing to serve on the council. I'm surprised that anyone will serve on a council, especially when they know the purpose and direction of the council is lacking beyond a budget or a particular project. Even if projects and goals are clear and tangible for the council, individual council members lack understanding of expectations for themselves. Here are some common issues I have seen on the governing board in the 10 congregations I have served as pastor and numerous others with which I consulted. I place these issues in two categories.
1. Issues related to expectations for council members:
- Sometimes council members have no idea what is expected of them.
- Sometimes council members have served on a council for many years, and they end up confusing clear expectations for knowing the repetitive patterns and action of a council as well as their familiarity with congregational life
- Sometimes a council member has a job description, but the job description is too lengthy and detailed to be realistic or even read.
- Often times council members have had little or no training in order to fulfill the basic expectations placed on them.
- Many council members do not know how to lead or participate in a formal meeting.
2. Issues related to basic philosophy and theology of the existence of a council.
- I have never seen a council size appropriate for deliberation and leadership. The smallest governing board I have seen is 9, the largest is 23. If all the congregations I served were playing "The Price Is Right," bidding on the ideal size for a governing board, everyone would have lost the game because they overbid. I believe 5 on a council would be ideal, but no more than 7. I believe in this dynamic for many reasons--beginning with the next point.
- What is the true purpose of a congregational council? Is it to represent the desires of the congregation (often divided in separate ministry areas)? Or is the purpose of a council rooted in leadership? Representation and leadership are not mutually exclusive, but what trait is the higher priority? Leadership ability is almost always sacrificed for the sake of representation. I believe representation is overrated. Even if expectations for a council member are clear, representation can still run amok, leading to divisiveness as council members will sacrifice the good of the congregation for their given ministry area. Representation-heavy systems also seek to appease particular populations in the congregation. Representation should not be completely absent, but in congregations--representation is overrated.
- Which way does the power flow with a council? Does the council see itself as a permission giving body for the pastor and/or staff? Does the council spend its meeting time engaging an approval process for ministries? In order for a council to employ the gifts God has given them, a council cannot be good stewards of God's resources without congregational mission or vision. With a clear mission and vision that is owned by the congregation and propels them into service, a council can then serve as partners and helpers with the staff to fulfill the mission. If the council serves as gatekeepers for ministries, then pastors, staff members, even council members and committee chairs are subject to the whims of the congregation. Every congregational action is subjected to how people "feel" about the "job" that someone is doing. The hidden message to many pastors, staff, council members and committee chairs is "you're not meeting our expectations, but we're not going to bother telling you the expectations."
- Prayer, theological reflection, fellowship and devotional time are individually or as a whole group seen as a "waste of time" and "distracting from the purpose of the meeting." Through my study and practice in congregational systems theory, I can sum up my response to this resistance with a proverb: "The council which prays and plays together, stays together." People have a need for a healthy sense of closeness with God and one another. If a council is not brought together with prayer and play, they will find unhealthy means to get close--often through hostility and divisiveness. Prayer and fellowship are both part of the purpose of leadership, not mere spiritual or recreational diversions.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Congregational Bromides: "We Have Financial Problems"
Maybe it's because I serve in Oldline Protestant congregations. Maybe it's because I serve congregations in transition. I've served as pastor and consulted with numerous congregations, and not one of them hold a primary impulse to be hopeful or positive about their financial resources. Every congregation I have ever known lives in the midst of problems, issues or shortages related to money.
I long for different perspectives related not to Prosperity Gospel or scarcity thinking, but something hopeful and faithful. Walter Brueggemann offers the best biblical theology background on the way I look at resources as a Christian, yet I still find myself trying to persuade people that their thinking and related actions lead to their own demise. Even the congregations I know that are flush with cash (usually because of a huge bequest) end up fighting about money. This says to me that resource struggles have less to do with money (though how we understand money and possessions are important) and more to do with mission and attitude.
Mission will be related to a discussion around another congregational bromide at a later date. Let us share some thoughts about attitude. Is money or lack thereof a barrier to do the ministry to which we are called? I look at the simplicity of Jesus' words to his disciples that they didn't need to take anything with them in their ministry, completely relying on the hospitality of others and the relationships that they build and the help they give (Mark 6: 6b-13). I think it's important to make investments in ministry, but are those investments a requirement to do ministry? If I trust that God has already given to me and my community of faith abundantly, then I feel disingenuous going for what can appear to be an annual money grab because we "need" money for ministry (I'm not against stewardship campaigns, I'm looking for a better way of life). Money is not as necessary to start ministry as we think. If we think in this way, giving does not become the need, response or joy of the giver, but the means to an end. If money is merely the means to an end for ministry, then for what reason do we need God?
I think the next time I hear a congregation tell me they have financial problems, I will stop listening. I have yet to hear a unique congregational financial problem.
I long for different perspectives related not to Prosperity Gospel or scarcity thinking, but something hopeful and faithful. Walter Brueggemann offers the best biblical theology background on the way I look at resources as a Christian, yet I still find myself trying to persuade people that their thinking and related actions lead to their own demise. Even the congregations I know that are flush with cash (usually because of a huge bequest) end up fighting about money. This says to me that resource struggles have less to do with money (though how we understand money and possessions are important) and more to do with mission and attitude.
Mission will be related to a discussion around another congregational bromide at a later date. Let us share some thoughts about attitude. Is money or lack thereof a barrier to do the ministry to which we are called? I look at the simplicity of Jesus' words to his disciples that they didn't need to take anything with them in their ministry, completely relying on the hospitality of others and the relationships that they build and the help they give (Mark 6: 6b-13). I think it's important to make investments in ministry, but are those investments a requirement to do ministry? If I trust that God has already given to me and my community of faith abundantly, then I feel disingenuous going for what can appear to be an annual money grab because we "need" money for ministry (I'm not against stewardship campaigns, I'm looking for a better way of life). Money is not as necessary to start ministry as we think. If we think in this way, giving does not become the need, response or joy of the giver, but the means to an end. If money is merely the means to an end for ministry, then for what reason do we need God?
I think the next time I hear a congregation tell me they have financial problems, I will stop listening. I have yet to hear a unique congregational financial problem.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Preaching from the book of Judges (part 2):
I've taken a different path on Palm/Passion Sunday this year--the manner in which it developed is the leading of the Holy Spirit, because I have been led to Christ.
Several months ago, an expanding group of ministers/volunteers at First Lutheran Community Church formed an outreach that would meet people in their vocation with the grace of God. We spend so much of our lives in our work, that God's presence should be proclaimed in the midst of that work. I wanted to proclaim God's presence and offer encouragement of gifts present in vocation. We've called this ministry "Celebrating Faces in the Community," offering thanks for a particular line of work in worship the last Sunday of each month. January offered thanks for health care workers, February offered thanks for people in education. Our March service is in recognition of "First Responders," emergency personnel, law enforcement, firefighters, EMT's and others like them. The group serving in this ministry considered changing the date because of Palm/Passion Sunday and working around the sermon series related to challenging texts of the Old Testament. I had an idea about how these strands of worship, proclamation and service could be woven together, but I lacked confidence.
After the recent violent events near my home in Federal Way, reading the Passion stories, and studying the Old Testament book of Judges, I realized I didn't need to weave as much of the aforementioned themes as I thought.
"First Responders" as we know them are not mentioned in the Bible, but First Responders are established to provide the grace of God in the midst of violent and chaotic situations. What is the source of violence in the book of Judges? Jephtha's lack of trust in the presence of God with him, the sacrifice/child abuse/murder of his daughter, and the ensuing civil war in the land of Israel. What happens in the midst of this civil war? Judges 17:6 and 21:25 provide bookends for the actions of the people when they do not trust God: "all the people did what was right in their own eyes."
In between these bookends in Judges we see some of the most despicable and egregious acts of violence in all of scripture. One can read of rape, complete and violent disregard for the human body, and murder. This takes us back to the question "why is there so much violence in the Bible? Why would we even bother reading these Bible passages?" This takes us back to a key discussion point early in the sermon series from Professor Jacobson. A key interpretive question about Bible passages is "is this passage prescriptive or descriptive?" Is this passage telling us what to do, or is this passage describing a situation? If we look at this passage as prescriptive--telling us what to do, then we legitimize violence in the name of God for our own purposes. This is the exact point of the passage. The reason we have violence in Judges in the first place is that "all the people did what was right in their own eyes." The people of Bible times are not any more violent than we are--Judges is telling a story about ourselves and the consequences of when we do what is right in our own eyes.
"...all the people did what was right in their own eyes" is the human drama of Holy Week.
+ Jesus is brought up on charges because "all the people did what was right in their own eyes."
+ Jesus is mocked by leaders of all stripes in because "all the people did what was right in their own eyes."
+ Jesus is abandoned by his followers because "all the people did what was right in their own eyes."
+ Jesus is executed because "all the people did what was right in their own eyes."
First Responders are not our source of our salvation, but they do provide the grace of God in the midst of a world where "all the people did what was right in their own eyes." This is not to say that First Responders are perfect, but they are the grace and compassion in some of the worst possible situations. For a people and society that does what is right in their own eyes, the grace of God is our only hope for transformation. The grace of God is made perfect and real in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus who conquers death in the hoards of people who "do what is right in their own eyes." Thanks to all the First Responders in our midst who provide the grace of God in unspeakable violence and chaos, thanks be to God in Jesus Christ, who withstood our violent, chaotic behavior so that we may know that there is nothing that will separate us from the love of God.
Several months ago, an expanding group of ministers/volunteers at First Lutheran Community Church formed an outreach that would meet people in their vocation with the grace of God. We spend so much of our lives in our work, that God's presence should be proclaimed in the midst of that work. I wanted to proclaim God's presence and offer encouragement of gifts present in vocation. We've called this ministry "Celebrating Faces in the Community," offering thanks for a particular line of work in worship the last Sunday of each month. January offered thanks for health care workers, February offered thanks for people in education. Our March service is in recognition of "First Responders," emergency personnel, law enforcement, firefighters, EMT's and others like them. The group serving in this ministry considered changing the date because of Palm/Passion Sunday and working around the sermon series related to challenging texts of the Old Testament. I had an idea about how these strands of worship, proclamation and service could be woven together, but I lacked confidence.
After the recent violent events near my home in Federal Way, reading the Passion stories, and studying the Old Testament book of Judges, I realized I didn't need to weave as much of the aforementioned themes as I thought.
"First Responders" as we know them are not mentioned in the Bible, but First Responders are established to provide the grace of God in the midst of violent and chaotic situations. What is the source of violence in the book of Judges? Jephtha's lack of trust in the presence of God with him, the sacrifice/child abuse/murder of his daughter, and the ensuing civil war in the land of Israel. What happens in the midst of this civil war? Judges 17:6 and 21:25 provide bookends for the actions of the people when they do not trust God: "all the people did what was right in their own eyes."
In between these bookends in Judges we see some of the most despicable and egregious acts of violence in all of scripture. One can read of rape, complete and violent disregard for the human body, and murder. This takes us back to the question "why is there so much violence in the Bible? Why would we even bother reading these Bible passages?" This takes us back to a key discussion point early in the sermon series from Professor Jacobson. A key interpretive question about Bible passages is "is this passage prescriptive or descriptive?" Is this passage telling us what to do, or is this passage describing a situation? If we look at this passage as prescriptive--telling us what to do, then we legitimize violence in the name of God for our own purposes. This is the exact point of the passage. The reason we have violence in Judges in the first place is that "all the people did what was right in their own eyes." The people of Bible times are not any more violent than we are--Judges is telling a story about ourselves and the consequences of when we do what is right in our own eyes.
"...all the people did what was right in their own eyes" is the human drama of Holy Week.
+ Jesus is brought up on charges because "all the people did what was right in their own eyes."
+ Jesus is mocked by leaders of all stripes in because "all the people did what was right in their own eyes."
+ Jesus is abandoned by his followers because "all the people did what was right in their own eyes."
+ Jesus is executed because "all the people did what was right in their own eyes."
First Responders are not our source of our salvation, but they do provide the grace of God in the midst of a world where "all the people did what was right in their own eyes." This is not to say that First Responders are perfect, but they are the grace and compassion in some of the worst possible situations. For a people and society that does what is right in their own eyes, the grace of God is our only hope for transformation. The grace of God is made perfect and real in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus who conquers death in the hoards of people who "do what is right in their own eyes." Thanks to all the First Responders in our midst who provide the grace of God in unspeakable violence and chaos, thanks be to God in Jesus Christ, who withstood our violent, chaotic behavior so that we may know that there is nothing that will separate us from the love of God.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
On "Tough Texts" of the Old Testament: The Relationship Between Job, Eddie Murphy, Dan Akroyd and Jamie Lee Curtis
Old Testament theologian Diane Jacobson of Luther Seminary inspired me to preach a sermon series on "tough texts of the Old Testament." She was a favorite professor of mine at Luther. I loved the questions that she asked and she taught me an important distinction in reading the Bible. In our class discussions one distinction almost always drove class discussion: "Is it prescriptive or descriptive?" Is this passage describing a situation? Or is this passage telling us what to do?
Dr. Jacobson came to the Southwestern Washington Synod in January for Bishop's Convocation. I told her I was going to preach a sermon series on some of these texts, and she was a bit startled. One thing I appreciate at First Lutheran Community Church is that a space has been created to explore the depths of the Bible because previous pastors have put aside the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL). Though some of the texts during this series come from the RCL, we can take these challenging texts, put them side by side, and have them work with us and learn something about what they say about the God we follow.
Last Sunday, we took a look at Job. I was taught that Job was a comforting book in my youth, and I took that statement at face value. Once I actually studied the book, I became disturbed by some of the things that happen, mainly that God and Satan make a bet about Job, with Job's life hanging in the balance, and that Job suffers a great deal because of this bet. A few people in the congregation reminded me of the Dan Akroyd, Eddie Murphy and Jamie Lee Curtis movie Trading Places a story where lives that are put on the stage for a bet between two wealthy brothers (I really love how some people were thinking movies when we talked about Job!). I remember the first time I saw this film as a teenager and my indignation over humans being manipulated for sport. There is a some justice in the movie because the wealthy brothers become the targets for revenge. Not so with God and Satan--it doesn't seem to matter in the end that Job's life is used for sport and suffers a great deal. Does Job receive an appropriate test for his faith, or is he abused?
Another one of my professors, Dr. Terrence Fretheim, told one of my classes that Job was a theological construct by the authors to offer a counter testimony to Deuteronomistic theology that essentially states that if you do the right things, then good things will happen. Brueggemann states that Israel was well aware that they did not live in such a neat and tidy world, and appeared to be able to live in a certain degree of paradox. It is a good thing to follow the laws and statutes of God, but that sometimes doing the right things doesn't necessarily produce a good result. The manner in which this is done in Job is quite disturbing, and I can't say that I find it all that comforting.
I took an informal poll after Sunday's sermon out of Job--were people disturbed by Job, or did they take comfort in Job? I found that between 3/4ths and 7/8ths of people in the congregation were comforted by Job. I honestly don't know what to make of it. What I observed was that at the very least, people in the congregation were deeply reflecting about the presence of God in the midst of suffering, and that Job was a powerful example. I don't have anything against the character of Job, but the exchange between God and Satan. I don't have a problem that Satan is an agent of Job, but their sporting bet over Job's life. It makes me wonder about how we humans do this kind of sporting bet with other forms of life. The obvious one is that humans place bets on horses and dogs in races for fun and sport. How do we do it in other ways?
This question brings us back to Dr. Jacobson's question, "Is it (the passage) descriptive or prescriptive?" I'm leaning toward descriptive. Though I can see that many people find comfort in Job's response of faith to disaster in his life, I think the story may describe the greatness of God by challenging our stereotypes. I'm not sure if the intent of the passage is to hold up the virtue of Job, but the limits of human theologies. It takes a startling exchange between God and Satan to see how limiting theology can be.
Dr. Jacobson came to the Southwestern Washington Synod in January for Bishop's Convocation. I told her I was going to preach a sermon series on some of these texts, and she was a bit startled. One thing I appreciate at First Lutheran Community Church is that a space has been created to explore the depths of the Bible because previous pastors have put aside the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL). Though some of the texts during this series come from the RCL, we can take these challenging texts, put them side by side, and have them work with us and learn something about what they say about the God we follow.
Last Sunday, we took a look at Job. I was taught that Job was a comforting book in my youth, and I took that statement at face value. Once I actually studied the book, I became disturbed by some of the things that happen, mainly that God and Satan make a bet about Job, with Job's life hanging in the balance, and that Job suffers a great deal because of this bet. A few people in the congregation reminded me of the Dan Akroyd, Eddie Murphy and Jamie Lee Curtis movie Trading Places a story where lives that are put on the stage for a bet between two wealthy brothers (I really love how some people were thinking movies when we talked about Job!). I remember the first time I saw this film as a teenager and my indignation over humans being manipulated for sport. There is a some justice in the movie because the wealthy brothers become the targets for revenge. Not so with God and Satan--it doesn't seem to matter in the end that Job's life is used for sport and suffers a great deal. Does Job receive an appropriate test for his faith, or is he abused?
Another one of my professors, Dr. Terrence Fretheim, told one of my classes that Job was a theological construct by the authors to offer a counter testimony to Deuteronomistic theology that essentially states that if you do the right things, then good things will happen. Brueggemann states that Israel was well aware that they did not live in such a neat and tidy world, and appeared to be able to live in a certain degree of paradox. It is a good thing to follow the laws and statutes of God, but that sometimes doing the right things doesn't necessarily produce a good result. The manner in which this is done in Job is quite disturbing, and I can't say that I find it all that comforting.
I took an informal poll after Sunday's sermon out of Job--were people disturbed by Job, or did they take comfort in Job? I found that between 3/4ths and 7/8ths of people in the congregation were comforted by Job. I honestly don't know what to make of it. What I observed was that at the very least, people in the congregation were deeply reflecting about the presence of God in the midst of suffering, and that Job was a powerful example. I don't have anything against the character of Job, but the exchange between God and Satan. I don't have a problem that Satan is an agent of Job, but their sporting bet over Job's life. It makes me wonder about how we humans do this kind of sporting bet with other forms of life. The obvious one is that humans place bets on horses and dogs in races for fun and sport. How do we do it in other ways?
This question brings us back to Dr. Jacobson's question, "Is it (the passage) descriptive or prescriptive?" I'm leaning toward descriptive. Though I can see that many people find comfort in Job's response of faith to disaster in his life, I think the story may describe the greatness of God by challenging our stereotypes. I'm not sure if the intent of the passage is to hold up the virtue of Job, but the limits of human theologies. It takes a startling exchange between God and Satan to see how limiting theology can be.
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