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.
Showing posts with label violence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label violence. Show all posts
Monday, May 9, 2011
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Sermon: Why are THESE PEOPLE my neighbors?
Joshua 9
Luke 10: 25-37
People who attend a worship service have come a long way in their understanding of who their neighbors are. For decades and sometimes centuries, what it meant to be part of a congregation in North America was to be part of an ethnic enclave of people (some of these enclaves still exist, and new enclaves are forming). These enclaves may have had some interaction with other enclaves, but it was easy to have social and cultural norms reinforced, especially during church. If you wonder how this ethnic cultural reinforcement works think of the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. The Finns had their own church, the Germans had their own church, the English had their own church, the African Americans had their own church, the Scots had their own church, the Norwegians had their own church, the Danes had their own church. Some people in this congregation may have a memory of a marriage or a relationship that was considered dangerous because a Norwegian married a Swede, a Roman Catholic married a Lutheran, or if someone of Northern European descent married someone of Asian descent. Sometimes boundaries aren't negotiated on ethnicity, but political affiliation or theological perspective.
The challenges continue, though the scope of that challenge has changed. The understanding of how we evolve in our relationships with neighbors is often conditioned by recent history and the stress we experience in the world which we live. When we experience stress in relationships, it is tempting to gain immediate relief in those relationships rather than attempt to negotiate their complexity. One of my favorite past times in the midst of stress in relating to my neighbors is to engage in some righteous indignation about the superiority of my perspective. In my Big Fat Greek Wedding, when a Greek father is considering the stress that his Greek daughter is marrying a non Greek man, Costa Portakales directs some disgust to his future son in law in Greek, "my people were developing philosophy while your people were swinging from trees." Sometimes people will join me in my anger, and for a few minutes we experience relief. Other times I pause and reflect on my stress, and realize that I am a fool. Sometimes I don't want to consider that God looks out for my neighbor.
In the midst of the stress of negotiating relationships that we do not understand, we go to our principles of faithful living. Christians go to church, gather in Christian community, and study the Bible as a means of negotiating the world in which we live. The Bible often provides us with a foundational understanding of what it means to relate to God and one another. Some biblical writings are easier to negotiate with others. "You shall not kill" is little easier for most people to reconcile than "you shall love your neighbor as yourself." The question posed by the "lawyer" in Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan reflects how challenging neighbor relationships can be, because we struggle to relate to the identity of our neighbor. Are our neighbors merely our kin? Does our roster of neighbors include only the people who live in close proximity? How is proximity defined? By city, county or national boundary, maybe college football fan base? Going to University of Washington's Husky Stadium for a football game yesterday it was interesting to see who is the neighbor of a Husky fan. Cougars are not neighbors (even though Cougars and Huskies are neighbors in Washington). Ducks are not neighbors (even though their state is adjacent, and Ducks live among Huskies. (Any mixed marriages of colleges out there)? But Michigan Wolverines? They aren't in as close proximity as Ducks or Cougars, but they were named as neighbors. Why? Because they beat the Notre Dame Fighting Irish! Is our neighbor the person who shares the same ethnic heritage? Is our neighbor the person who shares the same political or theological perspective? In North America, we are able to deal with our understanding of neighbor a little differently based on the sheer fact that we have the ability to move if we don't like how the relationships are going with our neighbors. We move to the suburbs, then we move back to the cities, and so on. Understanding of what it means to be a neighbor is constantly shifting.
The people of the Ancient Near East, in the times of the Bible, did not have the means of mobility that we do. In some ways, we are both mobile societies, but one thing we have in America is space, and lots of it. But people in Bible times have the same struggles with defining the meaning of neighbor as we do, with a lot less space with which to work. If you travel to Israel and Palestine one can see the diversity of people living in a very tight space. When we go to the Bible for guidance in the stressful world of negotiating neighbor relationships, the Bible isn't particularly unified about who our neighbor really is, and I think neighbor confusion is reflected in our public discourse. Sometimes that confusion comes to a violent head, as we have seen recently in the fervor related to Pastor Terry Jones and his congregation in Florida creating an event to burn the Quran, the Muslim holy book. This seemingly insignificant local event became known worldwide, because it served as a lightning rod for the stress related to how Americans negotiate a mosque being built near Ground Zero in New York City. The vitriol exchanged in public discourse is stressful in itself. It's tempting to blame "the media" for the fever pitch coverage of the topic, but often times "the media" reflects the state of the public. This is a relationship of neighbors, and it's not simple, especially when lives are on the line.
How do Christians negotiate a complex web of relationships? How does God?
I offer you the Bible story in Joshua 9 as a means to think about God's action in the midst of complex neighbor relationships. The story tells readers about the Gibeonites, a group who lived in close proximity to Joshua's people in the land of Canaan. They were a group set up to be exterminated according to God's call to Joshua. His conquest in Jericho and Ai were already documented and a reputation for their strength was well known throughout the region. The Gibeonites were aware that Joshua's people were to show hospitality to those who lived far away from Canaan, so they made it look like they came from far away in order that they had a better chance to establish a covenant between the two peoples. The Gibeonites used deception, and the story documents that Israel did not consult God in their dealings with the Gibeonites. A covenant was established between the peoples. When Israel discovered they had been deceived, the leaders were furious they had been tricked, and wanted to destroy them. But Joshua believed they should hold to the oath to God about peace with the Gibeonites.
The circumstances of neighbor relationships change in Joshua 9. An underdog people is spared in the midst of Israel taking possession of the land of Canaan. Why does God not intervene in this story if all the peoples of Canaan are supposed to be destroyed? Is God not only looking out for Israel, but looking out for people who are not part of Israel? Joshua 9 reveals that neighbor relationships are not as cut and dried as we think, and actually in flux. It also reveals that God is looking out for our neighbors, even the neighbors who are different than us. Circumstances matter. Lives hang in the balance. Circumstances matter in Joshua 9, and they matter in public discourse around the mosque near Ground Zero. Listen Up TV www.listenuptv.com has been reporting on the complex web of relationships around Ground Zero--people who have lost loved ones on 9/11/01, as well as Muslim and Christian leaders close to the situation. Their video clip is worth your time (with more forthcoming). Though Jesus gives his followers an ethic of being a neighbor is rooted in mercy,
today's examples provide us insight to the complexity of what it means to be a neighbor, to show mercy in the midst of anxiety, fear, vitriol and demeaning public discourse is an extraordinary act of faith. We cannot do it alone.
If we think of Jesus' last days on Earth, Jesus acted with mercy in the midst of fear, anxiety, vitriol. The parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10 is a microcosm and foreshadowing of Jesus' death and resurrection. Jesus had the power of God to crush his enemies and punish those who betrayed him, yet he extended mercy to all of them. Though retribution for the injustice showed to Jesus was justified, Jesus' resurrection overcomes the fear, anxiety, vitriol and demeaning act of crucifixion and brings love and forgiveness to the world.
Ground Zero is hundreds of miles away from much of the US and can seem distant, yet the discussion still matters. What can Christians do in response to the mercy of God in Christ? Faith in Christ is one thing. Keeping public discourse calm in the midst of anxiety is another. Our everyday actions may seem small, but they matter. St. Luke's Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) showed some mercy to their Jewish and Muslim neighbors by posting a message of peace to their neighbors of different traditions on their church sign (quite a contrast to Burn A Koran Day in Florida). How is God calling you to share mercy in the world? How is God calling communities of faith? The life, death and resurrection of Christ reveals to us each day that the power of mercy can transform the world.
Luke 10: 25-37
People who attend a worship service have come a long way in their understanding of who their neighbors are. For decades and sometimes centuries, what it meant to be part of a congregation in North America was to be part of an ethnic enclave of people (some of these enclaves still exist, and new enclaves are forming). These enclaves may have had some interaction with other enclaves, but it was easy to have social and cultural norms reinforced, especially during church. If you wonder how this ethnic cultural reinforcement works think of the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. The Finns had their own church, the Germans had their own church, the English had their own church, the African Americans had their own church, the Scots had their own church, the Norwegians had their own church, the Danes had their own church. Some people in this congregation may have a memory of a marriage or a relationship that was considered dangerous because a Norwegian married a Swede, a Roman Catholic married a Lutheran, or if someone of Northern European descent married someone of Asian descent. Sometimes boundaries aren't negotiated on ethnicity, but political affiliation or theological perspective.
The challenges continue, though the scope of that challenge has changed. The understanding of how we evolve in our relationships with neighbors is often conditioned by recent history and the stress we experience in the world which we live. When we experience stress in relationships, it is tempting to gain immediate relief in those relationships rather than attempt to negotiate their complexity. One of my favorite past times in the midst of stress in relating to my neighbors is to engage in some righteous indignation about the superiority of my perspective. In my Big Fat Greek Wedding, when a Greek father is considering the stress that his Greek daughter is marrying a non Greek man, Costa Portakales directs some disgust to his future son in law in Greek, "my people were developing philosophy while your people were swinging from trees." Sometimes people will join me in my anger, and for a few minutes we experience relief. Other times I pause and reflect on my stress, and realize that I am a fool. Sometimes I don't want to consider that God looks out for my neighbor.
In the midst of the stress of negotiating relationships that we do not understand, we go to our principles of faithful living. Christians go to church, gather in Christian community, and study the Bible as a means of negotiating the world in which we live. The Bible often provides us with a foundational understanding of what it means to relate to God and one another. Some biblical writings are easier to negotiate with others. "You shall not kill" is little easier for most people to reconcile than "you shall love your neighbor as yourself." The question posed by the "lawyer" in Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan reflects how challenging neighbor relationships can be, because we struggle to relate to the identity of our neighbor. Are our neighbors merely our kin? Does our roster of neighbors include only the people who live in close proximity? How is proximity defined? By city, county or national boundary, maybe college football fan base? Going to University of Washington's Husky Stadium for a football game yesterday it was interesting to see who is the neighbor of a Husky fan. Cougars are not neighbors (even though Cougars and Huskies are neighbors in Washington). Ducks are not neighbors (even though their state is adjacent, and Ducks live among Huskies. (Any mixed marriages of colleges out there)? But Michigan Wolverines? They aren't in as close proximity as Ducks or Cougars, but they were named as neighbors. Why? Because they beat the Notre Dame Fighting Irish! Is our neighbor the person who shares the same ethnic heritage? Is our neighbor the person who shares the same political or theological perspective? In North America, we are able to deal with our understanding of neighbor a little differently based on the sheer fact that we have the ability to move if we don't like how the relationships are going with our neighbors. We move to the suburbs, then we move back to the cities, and so on. Understanding of what it means to be a neighbor is constantly shifting.
The people of the Ancient Near East, in the times of the Bible, did not have the means of mobility that we do. In some ways, we are both mobile societies, but one thing we have in America is space, and lots of it. But people in Bible times have the same struggles with defining the meaning of neighbor as we do, with a lot less space with which to work. If you travel to Israel and Palestine one can see the diversity of people living in a very tight space. When we go to the Bible for guidance in the stressful world of negotiating neighbor relationships, the Bible isn't particularly unified about who our neighbor really is, and I think neighbor confusion is reflected in our public discourse. Sometimes that confusion comes to a violent head, as we have seen recently in the fervor related to Pastor Terry Jones and his congregation in Florida creating an event to burn the Quran, the Muslim holy book. This seemingly insignificant local event became known worldwide, because it served as a lightning rod for the stress related to how Americans negotiate a mosque being built near Ground Zero in New York City. The vitriol exchanged in public discourse is stressful in itself. It's tempting to blame "the media" for the fever pitch coverage of the topic, but often times "the media" reflects the state of the public. This is a relationship of neighbors, and it's not simple, especially when lives are on the line.
How do Christians negotiate a complex web of relationships? How does God?
I offer you the Bible story in Joshua 9 as a means to think about God's action in the midst of complex neighbor relationships. The story tells readers about the Gibeonites, a group who lived in close proximity to Joshua's people in the land of Canaan. They were a group set up to be exterminated according to God's call to Joshua. His conquest in Jericho and Ai were already documented and a reputation for their strength was well known throughout the region. The Gibeonites were aware that Joshua's people were to show hospitality to those who lived far away from Canaan, so they made it look like they came from far away in order that they had a better chance to establish a covenant between the two peoples. The Gibeonites used deception, and the story documents that Israel did not consult God in their dealings with the Gibeonites. A covenant was established between the peoples. When Israel discovered they had been deceived, the leaders were furious they had been tricked, and wanted to destroy them. But Joshua believed they should hold to the oath to God about peace with the Gibeonites.
The circumstances of neighbor relationships change in Joshua 9. An underdog people is spared in the midst of Israel taking possession of the land of Canaan. Why does God not intervene in this story if all the peoples of Canaan are supposed to be destroyed? Is God not only looking out for Israel, but looking out for people who are not part of Israel? Joshua 9 reveals that neighbor relationships are not as cut and dried as we think, and actually in flux. It also reveals that God is looking out for our neighbors, even the neighbors who are different than us. Circumstances matter. Lives hang in the balance. Circumstances matter in Joshua 9, and they matter in public discourse around the mosque near Ground Zero. Listen Up TV www.listenuptv.com has been reporting on the complex web of relationships around Ground Zero--people who have lost loved ones on 9/11/01, as well as Muslim and Christian leaders close to the situation. Their video clip is worth your time (with more forthcoming). Though Jesus gives his followers an ethic of being a neighbor is rooted in mercy,
today's examples provide us insight to the complexity of what it means to be a neighbor, to show mercy in the midst of anxiety, fear, vitriol and demeaning public discourse is an extraordinary act of faith. We cannot do it alone.
If we think of Jesus' last days on Earth, Jesus acted with mercy in the midst of fear, anxiety, vitriol. The parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10 is a microcosm and foreshadowing of Jesus' death and resurrection. Jesus had the power of God to crush his enemies and punish those who betrayed him, yet he extended mercy to all of them. Though retribution for the injustice showed to Jesus was justified, Jesus' resurrection overcomes the fear, anxiety, vitriol and demeaning act of crucifixion and brings love and forgiveness to the world.
Ground Zero is hundreds of miles away from much of the US and can seem distant, yet the discussion still matters. What can Christians do in response to the mercy of God in Christ? Faith in Christ is one thing. Keeping public discourse calm in the midst of anxiety is another. Our everyday actions may seem small, but they matter. St. Luke's Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) showed some mercy to their Jewish and Muslim neighbors by posting a message of peace to their neighbors of different traditions on their church sign (quite a contrast to Burn A Koran Day in Florida). How is God calling you to share mercy in the world? How is God calling communities of faith? The life, death and resurrection of Christ reveals to us each day that the power of mercy can transform the world.
Friday, July 30, 2010
The Cautionary Tale of the Whitman Mission
While I lived in South Dakota, I read about anything I could about the Pacific Northwest. I missed the connections to the familiar, comforting, yet mystifying land. I missed the mist on my skin that dampened me, yet didn't get me wet. I missed the salty air that reminded me of the bountiful sea and all its creatures, both familiar and alien. I missed the evergreens that served as green sentries that guided my paths. Though I could only visit my beloved Washington about once or twice per year, through the research and story telling of others, my own stories, memories and observations were fertilized for a time when I would not be part of the Pacific Northwest diaspora, but a participant observer replanted in my land of origin.
Years passed before I made a connection between God and the land. I knew that God created the heavens and the Earth, but I was directed in my thoughts toward an understanding that God cared more about humans than the land itself. As I studied the Old Testament in seminary, I realized the land is a much more powerful character and player in biblical story and that place matters throughout scripture--though the land and place are not widely researched in theological circles, I have come to appreciate the distinctive nature of place sociologically and theologically. John Inge (a bishop in the Church of England) and Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann address theological questions of place and land.
While reading a Pacific Northwest history by Carlos Schwantes, I encountered a new story to me, the story of a massacre at the Whitman mission in southeast Washington state, near Walla Walla. On November 29, 1847, 13 people were killed at the mission site by peoples of the Cayuse and Umatilla tribes. Numerous interpretations of the events surrounding the massacre exist, but the story represents many tensions for me as a local theologian, pastor, student, and native of the Pacific Northwest. The Whitmans came to the region prepared to deliver their way of life to the Cayuse and Umatilla peoples--a way of life that included Jesus Christ, their own culture and agriculture. My impression of the Whitmans is that they saw their work as operating in a single direction. They were the givers and the aboriginal peoples were the receivers. I don't perceive much listening going on, only telling. Naturally, the Cayuse and Umatilla resisted ways contrary to their own way of life, especially so since they did not adapt to row crop cultivation well. It was challenging to learn about Jesus when row crops were seen as a path to Jesus. The Whitmans and their coworkers were carriers for a measles epidemic that wiped out half of the local tribe population. The tribes responded to these developments with violence, and the missionary endeavors in the area were ended for well over a generation.
I still have a lot to learn about the Whitman mission story. It may become a topic for deeper study in my future. On my recent family trip, my family and I visited the Whitman Mission National Historical Site (part of the National Park system). I hope to return when I have more research time and search some of the archives at nearby Whitman College. I learned much from this story and my own understanding of Christian ministry and mission. Some factors remain in my ongoing consideration:
1. The local religious landscape in the Pacific Northwest has always struggled to support Christian ministry and cultural endeavors related to Christian ministry for centuries. Though it is no longer at the bottom of the of the list of percentage of religious adherents (Maine is now at the bottom), it takes significantly more work for Christians to gain influence in the region than in other places where I have lived and worked.
2. Is there an appropriate balance between Christian ministry as proclamation and listening? In my early studies of the Whitman massacre, it appears that the actions of the Whitmans moved more toward proclamation than listening and understanding the Umatilla and Cayuse peoples. The Whitman story provides a cautionary tale for me on many levels. I believe in God's redemptive work through the Church, but am I the appropriate proclaimer? I find myself much more interested and driven to understand than to proclaim. Understanding is a relative term--it seems sometimes that the more I learn, the less I understand--but understanding is more about posture than accomplishment. Interim ministry for me has been a ministry of understanding congregations (again, understanding is relative), and using that understanding for the people of God in a particular place to follow their calling in God's preferred future for them.
3. Though it takes great courage and energy to make a proclamation (Marcus Whitman made several round trips from the mission to the East Coast to garner support for the mission in a time where such distance travel was tiring, dangerous and often deadly), sometimes I think it is much harder to listen, learn and understand--because the other cannot be controlled. The Whitmans did not have an opportunity to learn this lesson; they were killed before any change took place. This is part of the conflicting understanding about mission--I make quite a presumption when I think I know what is best for a group of people I serve, whereas we can take the opportunity to build relationship and name that God is already in that place, and together look at the Bible and look the culture and prayerfully see where God is together in hopes of imagining and living God's preferred future for that particular community.
I sometimes wonder whether these thoughts, experiences and learnings make me the right kind of pastor in this day and age, or whether I should find a different path to ministry. A colleague and friend once posed to me the key differences between proclamation and understanding and their relationship to vocation. I believe the distinction between proclamation and understanding is important, but the relationship to vocation is not so cut and dried. I may never feel comfortable in my vocation. I am provoked to proclamation, yet driven to understand. Through the Whitmans I read a cautionary tale, and I am alerted to the consequences on either end of the continuum of proclamation and understanding.
Years passed before I made a connection between God and the land. I knew that God created the heavens and the Earth, but I was directed in my thoughts toward an understanding that God cared more about humans than the land itself. As I studied the Old Testament in seminary, I realized the land is a much more powerful character and player in biblical story and that place matters throughout scripture--though the land and place are not widely researched in theological circles, I have come to appreciate the distinctive nature of place sociologically and theologically. John Inge (a bishop in the Church of England) and Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann address theological questions of place and land.
While reading a Pacific Northwest history by Carlos Schwantes, I encountered a new story to me, the story of a massacre at the Whitman mission in southeast Washington state, near Walla Walla. On November 29, 1847, 13 people were killed at the mission site by peoples of the Cayuse and Umatilla tribes. Numerous interpretations of the events surrounding the massacre exist, but the story represents many tensions for me as a local theologian, pastor, student, and native of the Pacific Northwest. The Whitmans came to the region prepared to deliver their way of life to the Cayuse and Umatilla peoples--a way of life that included Jesus Christ, their own culture and agriculture. My impression of the Whitmans is that they saw their work as operating in a single direction. They were the givers and the aboriginal peoples were the receivers. I don't perceive much listening going on, only telling. Naturally, the Cayuse and Umatilla resisted ways contrary to their own way of life, especially so since they did not adapt to row crop cultivation well. It was challenging to learn about Jesus when row crops were seen as a path to Jesus. The Whitmans and their coworkers were carriers for a measles epidemic that wiped out half of the local tribe population. The tribes responded to these developments with violence, and the missionary endeavors in the area were ended for well over a generation.
I still have a lot to learn about the Whitman mission story. It may become a topic for deeper study in my future. On my recent family trip, my family and I visited the Whitman Mission National Historical Site (part of the National Park system). I hope to return when I have more research time and search some of the archives at nearby Whitman College. I learned much from this story and my own understanding of Christian ministry and mission. Some factors remain in my ongoing consideration:
1. The local religious landscape in the Pacific Northwest has always struggled to support Christian ministry and cultural endeavors related to Christian ministry for centuries. Though it is no longer at the bottom of the of the list of percentage of religious adherents (Maine is now at the bottom), it takes significantly more work for Christians to gain influence in the region than in other places where I have lived and worked.
2. Is there an appropriate balance between Christian ministry as proclamation and listening? In my early studies of the Whitman massacre, it appears that the actions of the Whitmans moved more toward proclamation than listening and understanding the Umatilla and Cayuse peoples. The Whitman story provides a cautionary tale for me on many levels. I believe in God's redemptive work through the Church, but am I the appropriate proclaimer? I find myself much more interested and driven to understand than to proclaim. Understanding is a relative term--it seems sometimes that the more I learn, the less I understand--but understanding is more about posture than accomplishment. Interim ministry for me has been a ministry of understanding congregations (again, understanding is relative), and using that understanding for the people of God in a particular place to follow their calling in God's preferred future for them.
3. Though it takes great courage and energy to make a proclamation (Marcus Whitman made several round trips from the mission to the East Coast to garner support for the mission in a time where such distance travel was tiring, dangerous and often deadly), sometimes I think it is much harder to listen, learn and understand--because the other cannot be controlled. The Whitmans did not have an opportunity to learn this lesson; they were killed before any change took place. This is part of the conflicting understanding about mission--I make quite a presumption when I think I know what is best for a group of people I serve, whereas we can take the opportunity to build relationship and name that God is already in that place, and together look at the Bible and look the culture and prayerfully see where God is together in hopes of imagining and living God's preferred future for that particular community.
I sometimes wonder whether these thoughts, experiences and learnings make me the right kind of pastor in this day and age, or whether I should find a different path to ministry. A colleague and friend once posed to me the key differences between proclamation and understanding and their relationship to vocation. I believe the distinction between proclamation and understanding is important, but the relationship to vocation is not so cut and dried. I may never feel comfortable in my vocation. I am provoked to proclamation, yet driven to understand. Through the Whitmans I read a cautionary tale, and I am alerted to the consequences on either end of the continuum of proclamation and understanding.
Friday, April 23, 2010
God revealed in conversation with daughter's mind
"The Wii is gone," I thought. "We've been broken into," I said under my breath.
At first I thought about being calm. I was mugged while I lived in Washington, DC. I was 25 years old. I called my mommy. Then I alerted my credit card companies. Then I called the police. I was going to be calm this time. Were the thieves still in the house?
My seven year old probably heard my statement. She screamed, "we were robbed!"
I called 911 immediately, hoping to get some help if the thieves were still there. My wife was over 2.5 hours away at work that evening. My parents were still at work. I couldn't leave because I wanted to meet the police. I wasn't sure what to do with the girls. I finally connected with my aunt, she came over with a friend. I called our insurance agent. The police came, asked some questions, searched the house, took some pictures. My parents came and took the girls for the evening.
No one was physically hurt. I thought the thieves took things that I found later. Later I discovered they took things I didn't realize at first. Family heirlooms were stolen. That hurts. They took my nice camera. That hurts. What they stole is not the point of this post. Stuff happens. We all adjust, react and cope in different ways. My wife, the heavy sleeper, who wouldn't wake up if you drove a truck through our bedroom, now wakes up multiple times per night. I feel more lethargic than I have in my entire life. My three year old shows no outward sign of knowledge of this break-in.
The most interesting aspect of this story is where I see God. After my seven year old screamed about what had happened, she grabbed a piece of loose leaf notebook paper and began to draw. I was glad because I didn't need to worry about her while I made phone calls. Within 15 minutes of coming into the house, my daughter drew the cartoon above. I'm still in awe of her craft. She has an Autism Spectrum Disorder. If I ever doubted the literature that ASD people think in pictures, I don't now. I lived her thoughts for that rare moment in time--and now I can better imagine the fears she experiences today. Everyone who walked into our home that evening saw her drawing. Maybe I marvel at the cartoon even more because I had to wait 4 years before I came close to a conversation with her. This cartoon depicts the thief coming into our house and taking the Wii. There are other characters that were not physically present in our house, like a snake and a stuffed lion toy, but I quickly knew what she created. I saw a gift in my daughter, and we connected. God revealed a gift in an anxious and painful situation--a call to me to develop that gift. Maybe she'll be an artist. Maybe I will look for a way for her to be mentored by a cartoonist. I do not know.
Even though this is my most challenging period of writing in the past two years (I'm finding it hard to create in the midst of violation and destruction), I'm taking joy in the creativity of my daughter. I wonder if this post is a turning point for me, but for now, my daughter's creativity is enough.
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.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Preaching from the book of Judges (part 1)
In January 2010, Professor Diane Jacobson from Luther Seminary challenged a group of ELCA pastors in Southwestern Washington to engage "tough" texts of the Old Testament. I took the challenge seriously.
Most of my favorite professors (Throntveit, Fretheim, Jacobson) from seminary and my favorite theologians (Von Rad, Brueggemann) happen to be Old Testament scholars. I enjoyed the interpretive debate in Hebrew more than Greek during school and in my own personal reading. However, I have been so tied to the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) over 11 years of ministry, that I missed out on some of the wealth of scripture, even though I preach an equal amount of Old and New Testament sermons.
Jacobson primarily addressed texts of violence in her talk, something the RCL mostly ignores. Out of respect to the insights of my teacher and the revelation of God in scripture, I thought I needed to join the congregation in engaging some challenging texts in Lent. This challenging engagement can take on many levels: an academic exercise for pastors, a Bible study for hearty students in the congregation, or using these texts as part of a sermon series. The sermon series produced more reflection upon the relationship between the Bible and a congregation than any group of sermons I ever preached.
Topics we have covered during the series include:
1. Job
2. The sacrifice of Isaac
3. Jephtha's sacrifice of his daughter in Judges
Though I do not believe in the dogma biblical inerrancy, I still have a relatively high view of the Bible. Though I believe the Bible needs to be considered in context, that doesn't excuse Christians from engaging biblical texts just because certain concepts or ideas seem antiquated. The Old Testament book of Judges provides a great opportunity for Christians to address an important critique about the Bible--the graphic depiction of violence. Tracy Fitzgerald gave a great introduction to the book of Judges for our consideration in his sermon at First Lutheran Community Church on March 14th (to be posted on my blog at a later date). He and I share conversation about concepts in Judges regarding J. Clinton McCann's Judges commentary and our other readings. McCann makes an argument that Judges is relevant for the community of faith because it addresses contemporary themes:
1. Disputes over land and territory
2. Uncertainty over the roles of men and women
3. Child abuse
4. Spouse abuse
5. Senseless and excessive violence
6. Moral confusion
7. Power-hungry political leaders
8. Male political leaders who chase women
9. Social chaos
McCann argues that Christians are quick to make sociological, economic or psychological examinations regarding the aforementioned social conditions. Judges presents a case to consider these themes theologically. Theological thought related to the texts in Judges presents a challenge because many of the texts produce emotional and visceral reactions. Violent revenge, child abuse and rape all occur in Judges, and each person sitting in the congregation knows something related to these tragedies in life. Revisiting these thoughts or experiences produces pain, anger and despair. Though people come to worship for hope, healing and peace--these texts fail to provide a quick path to wholeness. Preachers and congregations tread lightly or outright avoid these texts. I tread lightly as well. I choose not to address the graphic depiction of rape and murder in the last chapters of Judges, but it is important to name their occurrence, because silence about these topics blocks the path to healing.
These topics addressed in Judges hit home for me this week as I examined the stories surrounding the murder at Calvary Lutheran Church in Federal Way, Washington last week (Susan Hogan compiled a list of links for this story). Calvary is the congregation my family and I attended while I awaited an opportunity for interim ministry. This story leaves me shaken, yet juxtaposed with reading Judges I move away from pure indignation or despair, and think about the world of violence in which we live theologically.
Violence in the Bible challenges ideals of what God's word is supposed to reveal. I think people ultimately want to experience assurances of God's love when reading or hearing the Bible. I think people hope that the Bible will take us to a better place, but sometimes the stories reveal something about sins and baser instincts and actions. Violence was not worse in Biblical times compared to now. The acts of violence differ today from Biblical times, but the violence remains today, magnified by a hypermedia culture that perpetuates a violent life experience. The stories of Judges provide a path for victims of violence to tell their own stories about violence--so they do not have to suffer in silence. Personal stories of violent suffering are often buried, and the stories in Judges do not go around the consequences of violence--the consequences are named. The stories in Judges also reveal an insidious human complicity in violence; temptation abounds for a reader of Judges to separate oneself or community from complicity to violence. A deeper reading beyond the emotional and visceral offers the judgment of God: we are a violent people, and there are consequences for our violence. Palm/Passion Sunday and Holy Week highlight human complicity in violence on many levels and the depths to which God must go to meet us in our violent lives.
Though Judges may not provide a clear path to redemption in the face of violence, God is at work in the midst of the violence that humans inflict on one another, and God will not be silent.
Please pray for the families affected by the murder at Calvary Lutheran Church in Federal Way, Washington and the congregation.
Most of my favorite professors (Throntveit, Fretheim, Jacobson) from seminary and my favorite theologians (Von Rad, Brueggemann) happen to be Old Testament scholars. I enjoyed the interpretive debate in Hebrew more than Greek during school and in my own personal reading. However, I have been so tied to the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) over 11 years of ministry, that I missed out on some of the wealth of scripture, even though I preach an equal amount of Old and New Testament sermons.
Jacobson primarily addressed texts of violence in her talk, something the RCL mostly ignores. Out of respect to the insights of my teacher and the revelation of God in scripture, I thought I needed to join the congregation in engaging some challenging texts in Lent. This challenging engagement can take on many levels: an academic exercise for pastors, a Bible study for hearty students in the congregation, or using these texts as part of a sermon series. The sermon series produced more reflection upon the relationship between the Bible and a congregation than any group of sermons I ever preached.
Topics we have covered during the series include:
1. Job
2. The sacrifice of Isaac
3. Jephtha's sacrifice of his daughter in Judges
Though I do not believe in the dogma biblical inerrancy, I still have a relatively high view of the Bible. Though I believe the Bible needs to be considered in context, that doesn't excuse Christians from engaging biblical texts just because certain concepts or ideas seem antiquated. The Old Testament book of Judges provides a great opportunity for Christians to address an important critique about the Bible--the graphic depiction of violence. Tracy Fitzgerald gave a great introduction to the book of Judges for our consideration in his sermon at First Lutheran Community Church on March 14th (to be posted on my blog at a later date). He and I share conversation about concepts in Judges regarding J. Clinton McCann's Judges commentary and our other readings. McCann makes an argument that Judges is relevant for the community of faith because it addresses contemporary themes:
1. Disputes over land and territory
2. Uncertainty over the roles of men and women
3. Child abuse
4. Spouse abuse
5. Senseless and excessive violence
6. Moral confusion
7. Power-hungry political leaders
8. Male political leaders who chase women
9. Social chaos
McCann argues that Christians are quick to make sociological, economic or psychological examinations regarding the aforementioned social conditions. Judges presents a case to consider these themes theologically. Theological thought related to the texts in Judges presents a challenge because many of the texts produce emotional and visceral reactions. Violent revenge, child abuse and rape all occur in Judges, and each person sitting in the congregation knows something related to these tragedies in life. Revisiting these thoughts or experiences produces pain, anger and despair. Though people come to worship for hope, healing and peace--these texts fail to provide a quick path to wholeness. Preachers and congregations tread lightly or outright avoid these texts. I tread lightly as well. I choose not to address the graphic depiction of rape and murder in the last chapters of Judges, but it is important to name their occurrence, because silence about these topics blocks the path to healing.
These topics addressed in Judges hit home for me this week as I examined the stories surrounding the murder at Calvary Lutheran Church in Federal Way, Washington last week (Susan Hogan compiled a list of links for this story). Calvary is the congregation my family and I attended while I awaited an opportunity for interim ministry. This story leaves me shaken, yet juxtaposed with reading Judges I move away from pure indignation or despair, and think about the world of violence in which we live theologically.
Violence in the Bible challenges ideals of what God's word is supposed to reveal. I think people ultimately want to experience assurances of God's love when reading or hearing the Bible. I think people hope that the Bible will take us to a better place, but sometimes the stories reveal something about sins and baser instincts and actions. Violence was not worse in Biblical times compared to now. The acts of violence differ today from Biblical times, but the violence remains today, magnified by a hypermedia culture that perpetuates a violent life experience. The stories of Judges provide a path for victims of violence to tell their own stories about violence--so they do not have to suffer in silence. Personal stories of violent suffering are often buried, and the stories in Judges do not go around the consequences of violence--the consequences are named. The stories in Judges also reveal an insidious human complicity in violence; temptation abounds for a reader of Judges to separate oneself or community from complicity to violence. A deeper reading beyond the emotional and visceral offers the judgment of God: we are a violent people, and there are consequences for our violence. Palm/Passion Sunday and Holy Week highlight human complicity in violence on many levels and the depths to which God must go to meet us in our violent lives.
Though Judges may not provide a clear path to redemption in the face of violence, God is at work in the midst of the violence that humans inflict on one another, and God will not be silent.
Please pray for the families affected by the murder at Calvary Lutheran Church in Federal Way, Washington and the congregation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)