“This election has hurt people, and the pain it caused certainly does not end today. But democracy does not end today, either. We are still bound to each other. We can still hold one another accountable for making a better world. We can name our pain and demand to be treated better, because LOVE demands respect and dignity, not just a vote every now and then. Today is just the beginning of a new day, and we get to decide what that means.” - Michael Pickett, M.Div., STM
Words matter. Words both inspire and incite, and because of this, they matter. The words above, from a seminary colleague, inspire me today. They give me hope that the future of our country—and the future of my children—might be one where love and reconciliation are lifted higher than opinions and differences.
Unfortunately, there are so many words out there. And they all compete for the precious and limited time that people will give to them. Some are helpful, some are hurtful.
It is with this in mind that I find myself saying less...writing less. Because there are simply too many competing words, and not enough time in the day to read or hear them all.
So I will not write much today. It may not matter that I write anything at all. But, because words do matter, I will still write...
Let us love each other. Let us also feel some sadness when a country is divided over a presidential election. Let us feel conflicted when we speak before we listen. Then let us listen. And then, let us love, even in disagreement.
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
Friday, September 23, 2016
ReDefining the Church ... Again
I've long been taught that the Church is not a building ... it's the people. However, I am currently pondering if that's truly accurate. Is the Church just a body of people who follow a set of beliefs in the Triune God?
Could it be that the Church really is the building?
Hear me out ...
If the Church is the people, then it's surely a flawed bunch of persons. And by flawed, I mean that the body of Christ is often not as welcoming and loving as it should be. The radical hospitality that Jesus displayed is hard to emulate. So if the Church is the people, then it might be a bit inefficient at conveying the love and acceptance of Jesus.
If, however, the Church is a building ... more specifically a sanctuary ... then it is a sacred and safe space where one is invited, accepted, and unconditionally loved by God. It is a place that does not depend on the congregation's ability, or inability, to be hospitable.
When the Church is a truly open and safe space for everyone, then the Church is what it's meant to be. It is holy ground. A safe space of unconditional love and acceptance. An open table. It is God's house, a place where all are equal and all are loved.
I'll close with the words to "To Everyone Born, A Place At The Table":
for everyone born, clean water and bread,
a shelter, a space, a safe place for growing,
for everyone born, a star overhead,
For woman and man, a place at the table,
revising the roles, deciding the share,
with wisdom and grace, dividing the power,
for woman and man, a system that's fair,
For just and unjust, a place at the table,
abuser, abused, with need to forgive,
in anger, in hurt, a mindset of mercy,
for just and unjust, a new way to live,
And God will delight
when we are creators of justice
and joy, compassion and peace:
Yes, God will delight
when we are creators of justice,
justice and joy!
Could it be that the Church really is the building?
Hear me out ...
If the Church is the people, then it's surely a flawed bunch of persons. And by flawed, I mean that the body of Christ is often not as welcoming and loving as it should be. The radical hospitality that Jesus displayed is hard to emulate. So if the Church is the people, then it might be a bit inefficient at conveying the love and acceptance of Jesus.
If, however, the Church is a building ... more specifically a sanctuary ... then it is a sacred and safe space where one is invited, accepted, and unconditionally loved by God. It is a place that does not depend on the congregation's ability, or inability, to be hospitable.
When the Church is a truly open and safe space for everyone, then the Church is what it's meant to be. It is holy ground. A safe space of unconditional love and acceptance. An open table. It is God's house, a place where all are equal and all are loved.
I'll close with the words to "To Everyone Born, A Place At The Table":
For everyone born, a place at the table, for everyone born, clean water and bread,
a shelter, a space, a safe place for growing,
for everyone born, a star overhead,
For woman and man, a place at the table,
revising the roles, deciding the share,
with wisdom and grace, dividing the power,
for woman and man, a system that's fair,
For just and unjust, a place at the table,
abuser, abused, with need to forgive,
in anger, in hurt, a mindset of mercy,
for just and unjust, a new way to live,
And God will delight
when we are creators of justice
and joy, compassion and peace:
Yes, God will delight
when we are creators of justice,
justice and joy!
Shirley Erena Murray Words © 1998 Hope Publishing Company
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
Just a Piece of Cloth...
It's just a piece of cloth.
Really, that's all it is.
But, in the Lutheran tradition of which I am a part, it holds deep meaning. Without this garment, I am not viewed as an ordained clergy person. I may be almost there, but I'm not quite there yet.
Leaders in the Lutheran Church usually wear a couple of odd pieces of clothing when they lead a worship service. First, they wear an alb. It's that white robe that most pastors and priests wear. You've seen them. They look like a big, flowing dress and are usually worn by older, white men. They look a little out of place. Ancient. Foreign.
Also worn is this thing called a stole. This is the piece of cloth I referred to moments ago. At its root, the stole is simply a garment worn over the alb to signify the status of the person wearing it. For most denominations, that means that ordained pastors are the only ones to wear the stole. Simply put: not ordained, no stole.
The stole can be practical, too. Like an alb, it helps to identify the principal leader of the service. Even for Lutherans, the alb and the stole aren't musts. They're typically just suggested apparel. Usually tradition demands they be worn. So it's a pick-your-battle kind of thing.
There is deeper meaning to these pieces of clothing, above and beyond the practical aspects they hold. The alb signifies baptism, and thereby belongs to everyone.1 The leader of the service wears it to illustrate a different way to be—a way that transcends any particular clothing style. The alb is also meant to disassociate the leader from the ways that our current clothing communicates gender, sexual attraction, class, and wealth, inviting each of us to another way of considering the human being.2 In these ways, I believe the alb can be a helpful symbol. The practical problem is that no one really thinks about those deeper meanings when they see someone wearing an alb.
The stole is a bit different in that it's reserved for those who have been ordained. Called by God. Set apart for the ministry of Word and Sacrament. Sounds so reverent, right? The stole has its origins as far back as the Roman empire and, like an alb, it is a beautiful symbol, even if it unintentionally elevates a person's status above the others around them.
Even with the problems that a stole can embody, I find myself, as a soon-to-be pastor, longing to don this symbolic garment. Weird, because I am not particularly drawn to the traditional ways of the Church. Like I said before, it's just a piece of cloth.
And yet, for me, it will mark the conclusion of a four-plus-year journey, one that has challenged me in ways I never could have expected. It will signify a time when I become something I never thought I could be. It will give affirmation to my calling, though it makes me no better than anyone else.
In its best sense, my hope is that the stole will continually remind me of the sacredness of my vocation. The trust that others have put in me. The invaluable influence I might have in others' lives. The complexity of faithfully proclaiming this odd and mysterious gospel.
When I become ordained, I won't get a ring. I won't magically become different than I am now (even with many ordained clergy hands laid on me). I won't get some miter or fancy hat. But what I will receive is the honor of wearing the stole. Just a piece of cloth. Yet so much more.
And while it is just a piece of clerical attire, I pray it lies a bit heavy around my neck, ever reminding me of its depth and purpose.
1, 2 - Brugh, Lorraine S. and Gordon W. Lathrop. The Sunday Assembly. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2008. Print.
Really, that's all it is.
 |
| A Clergy Stole |
Leaders in the Lutheran Church usually wear a couple of odd pieces of clothing when they lead a worship service. First, they wear an alb. It's that white robe that most pastors and priests wear. You've seen them. They look like a big, flowing dress and are usually worn by older, white men. They look a little out of place. Ancient. Foreign.
Also worn is this thing called a stole. This is the piece of cloth I referred to moments ago. At its root, the stole is simply a garment worn over the alb to signify the status of the person wearing it. For most denominations, that means that ordained pastors are the only ones to wear the stole. Simply put: not ordained, no stole.
The stole can be practical, too. Like an alb, it helps to identify the principal leader of the service. Even for Lutherans, the alb and the stole aren't musts. They're typically just suggested apparel. Usually tradition demands they be worn. So it's a pick-your-battle kind of thing.
There is deeper meaning to these pieces of clothing, above and beyond the practical aspects they hold. The alb signifies baptism, and thereby belongs to everyone.1 The leader of the service wears it to illustrate a different way to be—a way that transcends any particular clothing style. The alb is also meant to disassociate the leader from the ways that our current clothing communicates gender, sexual attraction, class, and wealth, inviting each of us to another way of considering the human being.2 In these ways, I believe the alb can be a helpful symbol. The practical problem is that no one really thinks about those deeper meanings when they see someone wearing an alb.
The stole is a bit different in that it's reserved for those who have been ordained. Called by God. Set apart for the ministry of Word and Sacrament. Sounds so reverent, right? The stole has its origins as far back as the Roman empire and, like an alb, it is a beautiful symbol, even if it unintentionally elevates a person's status above the others around them.
Even with the problems that a stole can embody, I find myself, as a soon-to-be pastor, longing to don this symbolic garment. Weird, because I am not particularly drawn to the traditional ways of the Church. Like I said before, it's just a piece of cloth.
And yet, for me, it will mark the conclusion of a four-plus-year journey, one that has challenged me in ways I never could have expected. It will signify a time when I become something I never thought I could be. It will give affirmation to my calling, though it makes me no better than anyone else.
In its best sense, my hope is that the stole will continually remind me of the sacredness of my vocation. The trust that others have put in me. The invaluable influence I might have in others' lives. The complexity of faithfully proclaiming this odd and mysterious gospel.
When I become ordained, I won't get a ring. I won't magically become different than I am now (even with many ordained clergy hands laid on me). I won't get some miter or fancy hat. But what I will receive is the honor of wearing the stole. Just a piece of cloth. Yet so much more.
And while it is just a piece of clerical attire, I pray it lies a bit heavy around my neck, ever reminding me of its depth and purpose.
1, 2 - Brugh, Lorraine S. and Gordon W. Lathrop. The Sunday Assembly. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2008. Print.
Thursday, February 25, 2016
The Worrisome, Over-Protective, and Emotionally Unhealthy Apostle Paul
I have noticed a troubling pattern in the life of the apostle Paul, and I'm calling it out.
Simply put, Paul is a bad example of what a minister should be.
Was he a great theologian? Sure.
A convincing rhetorician? Definitely.
I realize that it will likely be offensive for many to read, in bold print, that Paul is a "bad example" of a minister. However, to call Paul a healthy example of a minister of the Gospel is something my seminary education will not allow me to do. For this man of great faith travels around the Mediterranean, visiting fledgling churches and making new converts along the way, all the while attempting to keep them continually at his metaphoric side.
He can't seem to let them go and become grown-ups. He can't allow them to own their faith. And that simply isn't healthy.
Let's look at a few examples from his letters to various congregations.
Romans 16:19 "For while your obedience is known to all, so that I rejoice over you, I want you to be wise in what is good and guileless in what is evil."
Here Paul appears to be using a form of the rhetorical device, apophasis, whereby he commends the Roman Christians' faith and obedience, but then immediately infers that they are easily prone to temptations that could bring about their downfall. Paul wants to claim that he has full faith in these Christian believers, but he falls short of fully affirming them.
1 Corinthians 9:19; 22b "For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them."
"I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some."
In many of his letters, Paul shows an excessive willingness to be "all things to all people." In this pericope he also attests that he has been "entrusted with a commission" and will do whatever is needed to fulfill it (1 Cor 7:17).
2 Corinthians 12:20 "For I fear that when I come, I may find you not as I wish, and that you may find me not as you wish;"
Paul also displays strong concerns and emotions for believers to whom he has ministered. Some of these emotions, as seen above, are even fear and anxiety.
Galatians 4:19 "My little children, for whom I am again in the pain of childbirth until Christ is formed in you,"
While not needing to fully unpack this metaphor, Paul clearly sees himself as a parent to the many churches to whom he has ministered. And for Paul, he is a parent who cannot seem to let his children go off on their own. Here he also takes on the responsibility for "forming Christ" in the believers in Galatia.
Philippians 1:27 "Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel,"
Paul again shows a worrisome spirit for the faith and actions of others, even as he demonstrates a concern that the Philippian believers be of "one spirit" and "one mind."
In these brief examples, one can see in Paul a man who acts as an over-protective parent, pleading with his children to behave while he is away. Does that sound healthy? Indeed it sounds like the actions of an emotionally unhealthy individual who cannot trust that his children are capable of living without his assistance. Perhaps it is because Paul sees these believers as children (in terms of spiritual maturation). However, these are not children. And if Paul believes them to be spiritually immature, then another problem presents itself. Is it up to Paul—or God—to grow the faith of these believers? Can Paul, a man who is obviously in touch with his own sinfulness (see Romans 7:18), believe that the perpetual maintenance of their faith is solely in his care?
Please understand that I am not condemning the many fundamental instructions that Paul offers to these growing churches. I am simply observing in him an unhealthy need to care for people beyond his immediate reach—an unnecessary, burdening responsibility for the spiritual health of others.
Many pastors have undoubtedly—and perhaps subconsciously—imitated Paul's zeal for helping fellow believers (even to their own frustration and burnout). To be a healthy person means taking responsibility only for oneself—not for the actions or beliefs of others. Paul's example is one of laden concern to ensure the spiritual well-being of fellow believers around the Mediterranean Sea. While commendation may be made for Paul's faith and love for God's people, it cannot be made for his unhealthy sense of responsibility for those same people.
All scripture referenced from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America.
Simply put, Paul is a bad example of what a minister should be.
Was he a great theologian? Sure.
A convincing rhetorician? Definitely.
I realize that it will likely be offensive for many to read, in bold print, that Paul is a "bad example" of a minister. However, to call Paul a healthy example of a minister of the Gospel is something my seminary education will not allow me to do. For this man of great faith travels around the Mediterranean, visiting fledgling churches and making new converts along the way, all the while attempting to keep them continually at his metaphoric side.
He can't seem to let them go and become grown-ups. He can't allow them to own their faith. And that simply isn't healthy.
Let's look at a few examples from his letters to various congregations.
Romans 16:19 "For while your obedience is known to all, so that I rejoice over you, I want you to be wise in what is good and guileless in what is evil."
Here Paul appears to be using a form of the rhetorical device, apophasis, whereby he commends the Roman Christians' faith and obedience, but then immediately infers that they are easily prone to temptations that could bring about their downfall. Paul wants to claim that he has full faith in these Christian believers, but he falls short of fully affirming them.
1 Corinthians 9:19; 22b "For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them."
"I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some."
In many of his letters, Paul shows an excessive willingness to be "all things to all people." In this pericope he also attests that he has been "entrusted with a commission" and will do whatever is needed to fulfill it (1 Cor 7:17).
2 Corinthians 12:20 "For I fear that when I come, I may find you not as I wish, and that you may find me not as you wish;"
Paul also displays strong concerns and emotions for believers to whom he has ministered. Some of these emotions, as seen above, are even fear and anxiety.
Galatians 4:19 "My little children, for whom I am again in the pain of childbirth until Christ is formed in you,"
While not needing to fully unpack this metaphor, Paul clearly sees himself as a parent to the many churches to whom he has ministered. And for Paul, he is a parent who cannot seem to let his children go off on their own. Here he also takes on the responsibility for "forming Christ" in the believers in Galatia.
Philippians 1:27 "Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel,"
Paul again shows a worrisome spirit for the faith and actions of others, even as he demonstrates a concern that the Philippian believers be of "one spirit" and "one mind."
In these brief examples, one can see in Paul a man who acts as an over-protective parent, pleading with his children to behave while he is away. Does that sound healthy? Indeed it sounds like the actions of an emotionally unhealthy individual who cannot trust that his children are capable of living without his assistance. Perhaps it is because Paul sees these believers as children (in terms of spiritual maturation). However, these are not children. And if Paul believes them to be spiritually immature, then another problem presents itself. Is it up to Paul—or God—to grow the faith of these believers? Can Paul, a man who is obviously in touch with his own sinfulness (see Romans 7:18), believe that the perpetual maintenance of their faith is solely in his care?
Please understand that I am not condemning the many fundamental instructions that Paul offers to these growing churches. I am simply observing in him an unhealthy need to care for people beyond his immediate reach—an unnecessary, burdening responsibility for the spiritual health of others.
Many pastors have undoubtedly—and perhaps subconsciously—imitated Paul's zeal for helping fellow believers (even to their own frustration and burnout). To be a healthy person means taking responsibility only for oneself—not for the actions or beliefs of others. Paul's example is one of laden concern to ensure the spiritual well-being of fellow believers around the Mediterranean Sea. While commendation may be made for Paul's faith and love for God's people, it cannot be made for his unhealthy sense of responsibility for those same people.
All scripture referenced from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America.
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