We found out this weekend that Barack Obama has resigned his long time membership at Trinity UCC in Chicago after his affiliation with the congregation has caused him one too many political headaches. It’s a sad ending to what from the beginning has been a very sad and unfortunate story.
Before I go on, a disclaimer is in order. I am no expert in the Black Church. I’m a white, suburban male who has not spent a significant amount of time worshipping in the Black Church (a term which is itself far too generalized). While I don’t have much firsthand experience in these issues, I have a number of friends, colleagues, and teachers who do. I was very fortunate to have friends and professors in seminary who were raised in and are active in the Black Church and can talk about these issues on intellectual, spiritual, and emotional levels. My view on the whole situation with Obama and Rev. Wright is largely formed by what I have learned from them, so take my views for what they’re worth.
I first heard of Jeremiah Wright several years ago when I heard audio of some of his sermons in a preaching class. Of the half dozen or so sermons I heard in their entirety (and many other short clips), I’d say 90% of the time he wasn’t yelling the way we’ve seen in those sound-bites that have been ripped out of context and run in endless loops on cable news channels. Rev. Wright actually has a very rhythmic, mesmerizing speaking style that almost makes you forget how good of a biblical and theological scholar he is. He puts forth a tremendous amount of substance in a very attractive speaking style.
That being said, he does yell and speak off the cuff in the heat of the moment, as do many African American preachers. And as happens sometimes when preachers go off script, he says things that, in retrospect, he wishes he might not have said. No one who preaches regularly, myself included, wouldn’t take back some of their impromptu comments if given the chance.
But even more important than the realities of the occasional gaffes that are part of public speaking is the tradition of prophetic speech in the Black Church. From what I’ve read and what I’ve been told by friends and teachers, the church occupies a very different place in African American culture than it does in the Caucasian culture in which I was raised. The difference is chiefly in terms of empowerment. White, educated, reasonably affluent people have a plethora of venues in which we feel safe to express our hopes, dreams, frustrations, and general opinions. We’re on top socially and economically, so we have the tremendous privilege of being heard whenever and wherever we want. As the great philosopher Homer Simpson said, “I’m a white male aged 18 to 45. Everyone cares what I think!”
This is largely not the case in the African American community. In the average white church you can find business leaders, civic leaders, and other people with tremendous influence in society at large. In the Black Church there is a tremendous sense of disenfranchisement, and the church is one of the few places where African Americans feel truly free to voice the frustration and anger that comes from this sense. As the spokesperson for the community, the preacher has the opportunity (some would even say the obligation) to give voice to these frustrations. So when Jeremiah Wright or another African American preacher yells about oppression they are not just giving voice to their feelings, but to those of their whole congregation. Is it any wonder that the congregation roars back? It’s cathartic!
So it’s simultaneously unfortunately and unsurprising that the media has jumped all over the whole Jeremiah Wright story. Some say that it’s indicative of the latent racism in America’s white majority culture. I think that’s true insofar as it demonstrates our willful ignorance of how important the church is as an institution in African American culture. But the main reason the story has been so big is simply the reality of a 24 hour media culture. Broadcast media is big business, and most of it is controlled by corporations whose singular goal is to keep their stock price high. Clips like the ones of Jeremiah Wright yelling seemingly anti-American sentiments from the pulpit grab people’s attention and can keep it for a period of time, enabling CNN, MSNBC, and Faux News to charge higher ad rates.
Barack Obama is a major player in a game whose rules he did not make, and to win he has to pick his battles carefully. I believe him when he says this was a painful decision for him, and that he felt it was the right thing to do. And neither I nor anyone else can say if the pain he has caused himself and others by leaving the church will be outweighed by the good he might be able to do as President. That will be for historians to judge long after all of us are gone. In the meantime all we can do is pray for him (and John McCain, and Hilary Clinton, and George W. Bush) as he faces many difficult decisions in the days ahead. I hope he will be able to find a place to worship where he is welcomed and treated not as a symbol for one cause or another, but as a beloved child of God.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Jesus Christ Superstar
Last night Jessica and I went to see "Jesus Christ Superstar", the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. It starred Ted Neeley, who played Jesus in the movie that came out in 1973. I was really excited to see this because several years ago I saw a production that starred Carl Anderson, who had played Judas in the same film, and he was absolutely amazing. (In said production, Jesus was played by Sebastian Bach, who was the lead singer for Skid Row, and he played Jesus like a guy in a hair metal band. Surprise, surprise)
I was disappointed in Ted Neeley's performance, although in retrospect I guess I shouldn't have been. He played Jesus in the movie that came out 35 years ago, and I think he had played the part on stage before that. So the guy has been playing this same role for nearly four decades, and it clearly shows. He knows every word and note by heart, and I think he was just going through the motions.
Neeley is a ridiculously talented rock singer. When he hits the high notes he blows every eighties rocker off the map. But going through the motions the way he did, seeming kind of bored with the part, made the character of Jesus seem very etherial, almost like a divine ghost inhabiting a human shell. The strength of JCS is that it reminds us just how human Jesus really was. The scene in the second act where Jesus is praying in Gethsemane just before his arrest is one of the most powerful pieces of musical theatre I've ever seen, and when it's really performed and not just sung, no one in the audience is unmoved, regardless of their religious affiliation.
So although this wasn't the best performance of JCS I've ever seen, it's still an amazing show that I never tire of, and I'm glad I went.
Labels:
broadway,
Carl Anderson,
Jesus Christ Superstar,
Ted Neeley
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Further Shameless Self Promotion
Worship Connection, an online worship resource by Cokesbury, published an article I wrote on collaborative preaching. Check it out if you have a few minutes. Comments are always appreciated, of course.
For those who can't access the link above, copy the following into your browser:
http://www.worshipconnection.cokesbury.com/content.aspx?dyn=1604
Friday, May 09, 2008
General Conference wrapup forthcoming
I haven't fallen off the face of the earth, I promise. I have, however, been quite ill the past few days. It's an occupational hazard when you shake hundreds of hands every Sunday (I wonder how presidential candidates keep from getting everyone's germs?), but I'm better now. Over the next few days I'll take some time to collect my thoughts and give my overall assesment of General Conference. I can say this much right now: it's a mixed report card, as I expected it would be. We succeeded in some ways and failed in others leaving our denominational future a very open question. More specifics in a few days.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
General Conference- May 1
I'm disappointed, although not really surprised at the way many things have turned out at the 2008 General Conference. Perhaps no issue encapsulates the stalemate we find ourselves in as the issue of sexual orientation.
I saw one report that said there were more petitions submitted to General Conference on the issue of sexual orientation than on any other single issue. They ranged from one petition that wanted to make it unconstitutional for any person to try to change the denomination's stance on sexual orientation (thus making it necessary to change the Constitution before any changes could be made), to petitions allowing homosexual persons to serve as clergy and allowing for clergy to perform same sex unions. We have seen at this General Conference, and at many previous ones, that some of the strongest lobbying has gone into this issue by all sides.
So I am not surprised that no real progress was made on this issue at this General Conference. I am disappointed, however, that the delegates chose not to take a step that might at least relieve some of the tension. A majority report from one of the legislative committees recommended adding a clause to the Social Principles that said, “faithful and thoughtful people who have grappled with this issue deeply disagree with one another; yet all seek a faithful witness.” It would not have struck the clause that said that the UMC "considers homosexual practice incompatible with Christian teaching", nor would it have changed the fact that we exclude people from ordination and marriage based on their sexual orientation.
I don't see what would have been wrong with at least acknowledging that we're not all on the same page when it comes to this issue. The United Methodist Church prides itself (sometimes too much so) on that fact that we are a diverse, global church. Would it not have been in the spirit of "Holy Conferencing" to officially admit that we may not all agree but that we acknowledge that people with differing opinions are still good and faithful followers of Jesus?
It's even more unfortunate that when the issue came to the entire assembly that such hateful language was used in the debate. I received an email from one person who was present at the session in question who said that the tone of the debate was even more hurtful than the outcome of the vote. Again, how is this practicing "Holy Conferencing"?
This is especially sad in light of the sermon that Bishop Violet Fischer preached on the same day as this vote was taken (I think the video is available online). While the primary subject of the sermon was on the sin of racism, Bishop Fisher's text was the incident in the gospels where Jesus overturns the moneychangers tables in the Temple courts. She preached very powerfully that for the church to truly be living out the reign of God in the world, some unpopular actions will have to be taken and a number of people made uncomfortable if all of God's children are to be equally welcomed.
It is unfortunate that such a prophetic message was preached in the same space on the same day that a sad social status quo was upheld by a slim majority who feel we're not yet ready to fully include all of God's image bearers in the life of the church. Hopefully one day we will truly hear this message and act on it accordingly.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
General Conference- April 30
I looked at some of the news wrap ups last night after I published my rather lengthy rant on the General Conference's lack of action on the ordination process. While my central argument remains the same: that more substantive action is needed now and delaying another four years will only hurt us, I want to acknowledge a couple things in the interest of fairness on the issue.
First of all, it is true that the Study on Ministry Commission asked for another four years to study the plethora of issues facing it. These are complex questions and I think a continual study on the issue is a good thing. But it's also true that the Commission made a number of recommendations that could have reasonably been acted upon by this General Conference and not put off for another four years (I'll address one of them below). With an issue as crucial to the life and identity of the church as the meaning and structure of ordination there will always be more questions to consider no matter how many years we study it. The fact that not every issue is resolved does not absolve us of the responsibility to take at least a few steps toward fixing a very broken system.
I have seen one petition that may be voted on that changes some of the language in the Discipline by renaming "Commissioned Probationary Ministers" as "Provisional Ministers". As it currently stands, one is commissioned as a probationary Elder or Deacon, serves at least three years in said capacity, and is then fully ordained and admitted into full conference membership. I like the change from "probationary" to "provisional" because it softens the language and makes it seem, on the surface at least, less adversarial. In John Wesley's day new preachers were "on trial", so we're making progress. The language still does not show the level of care that our brothers and sisters in other denominations do, who use language like "in discernment", "postulancy", or "under care", but progress is progress.
I feel this General Conference can go one step further in making the ordination process seem much less cumbersome and adversarial. The perception of what the process is is a major problem, so one of the recommendations of the Study on Ministry Commission would achieve a change in perception and retain the oversight and accountability that supporters of the current system value.
This proposal, which was put forth in several petitions to the 2008 General Conference, but was rejected by the legislative committee, separated ordination from full conference membership. In the case of Elders, full conference membership is important because Elders itenerate and are guaranteed a full time appointment. This proposal would have Elders and Deacons be ordained at the time of what is now commissioning, while keeping the three year residency process so that the minister can demonstrate their fitness to have the tenure that comes with full conference membership. As it exists now, the tenure aspect overshadows the spiritual component of ordination. Rather than a celebration of one's gifts and graces for ministry, and an affirmation of their calling, getting ordained is more like a graduation or an initiation where the person is just glad that the hard work or hazing has come to an end. If ordination if a communal affirmation of an individual's God given gifts and a beginning point to their ministry, then ordination must, of necessity come an the inauguration of one's ministry, not three or five years into it.
I believe that this General Conference can and should move ordination to the time of commissioning, keeping the three year residency process intact before full conference membership. This would retain the structures of oversight and accountability necessary to ensure effective ministry by the ordained, and revitalizing the spiritual aspect of ordination by not muddying it up with the tenure that comes with full conference membership. This would help make ministry in the United Methodist Church much more attractive to prospective candidates because it would celebrate the spiritual aspects of ordination and make the process seem less cumbersome and adversarial. There are still a few days left and there is time for the delegates to change their minds. I pray that they do so.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
General Conference- April 29
OK, let me clear one thing up first. In my previous post I talked about a hypothetical situation in which I could justify denying church membership to a person who served in the military under a recent Judicial Council decision interpreting part of the Book of Discipline. I would never actually do such a thing for a plethora of reasons. I love and support people in the military, even though I disagree with certain decisions that are made by their superiors. It was only an example to show how stupid said action of the Judicial Council was. At least one person misunderstood me, although I'm not entirely sure they didn't deliberately misinterpret what I wrote. But I digress.
I've been tracking the progress of legislation through the different committees because I know there are some things that won't get covered in the news blurbs that come from the journalists at the Conference each day. Not because they're trying to hide anything, of course (if they were why would they put the progress of legislation on the web?). There's just so many topics to cover that they can't all get the full treatment.
One of the big issues that is before the General Conference is the current state of the ordination process. As it stands now it takes the better part of a decade to become a fully ordained Deacon or Elder. The 2004 General Conference commissioned a Study on Ministry Commission to evaluate the current process and make recommendations for improving it. Dozens of very gifted people devoted countless hours to this project, hundreds of thousands of dollars were spent, and a very thorough report was produced with some very clear and reasonable recommendations.
So what did the 2008 General Conference do with all this hard work? They chose to extend the Study on Ministry Commission for another four years and not take the risk of changing anything.
The process of ordination is one of the most critical issues facing the United Methodist Church today. I'm rather biased, of course, because I'm in the middle of the process, so take my analysis with the appropriate grain of salt. But I can't tell you how many people I've met over the last few years who have found the process so cumbersome and adversarial that they have chosen to drop out and pursue their calling elsewhere, or have taken one look and said "no thanks" altogether. In a time when we face rapidly declining membership and an ever growing shortage of clergy to serve churches (I haven't had a conversation with my District Superintendent where he hasn't lamented how hard it is to fill every pulpit), it is completely irresponsible for the General Conference, which is the only body that can make changes to the Book of Discipline, to put off making any decisions for another four years just because some people might not be happy about it.
We cannot afford another four years of gifted people choosing to pursue their callings elsewhere while our membership declines and our clergy age. The General Conference has a few more days ahead of it, and it is not too late to make the courageous choice to deal with the problem now rather than let someone else deal with it later. Such delaying tactics are currently being employed in regard to other issues as well. The question of whether to reorganize the United States into a Central Conference, thus putting non-US conferences on a level playing field with ones in the US, and the ever present question of whether to fully include persons of differing sexual orientations in the life of the church are receiving the same silent treatment.
Not making a decision is itself a choice. It says loudly and clearly that either we feel the problem in question is not serious enough for us to face right now, or that we do not have the courage to deal with these issues just because they are controversial. I feel that the UMC is sending the latter message. The Church of Jesus Christ is called to be courageous, not to be popular. I fear that if we continue to delay and equivocate we will be failing our millions of members, and even worse, failing to live into the calling that our God has placed before us. It is not too late. I pray that the delegates to the 2008 General Conference will have the courage to face these issues now and not do further damage by delaying.
General Conference- April 28
One very positive development at General Conference is giving me some hope. The slate of delegates for the Judicial Council (the United Methodist version of the Supreme Court) approved by the Council of Bishops and ratified by the GC delegates (again, kind of like the President nominating judges and being voted on by Congress) are a much more moderate group than has been elected to the JC in recent years. In the past four years the Judicial Council has been populated with people who lean toward the extreme conservative end of the UM spectrum, and as such have produced a number of disappointing and frankly unjust decisions.
Chief among these unfortunate decisions was the case of a Virginia pastor who refused to admit a man as a member of his congregation for the sole reason that the man in question was homosexual. The pastor was disciplined by his Annual Conference, but the decision was reversed by the Judicial Council, citing the paragraph in the Book of Discipline where it says that pastors are charged to make sure people are adequately prepared for membership. This interpretation basically opens the doors for me as a pastor to refuse membership to anybody who I deem unfit for pretty much any reason I want, no matter how small the disagreement.
For example, I believe very strongly that Christianity is against violence in all of its forms, including war. So according to the Judicial Council, I could refuse membership to someone who is in the military because they could be called upon to serve in a war and possibly have to commit acts of violence against another one of God's children. Aside from being an extremely unpopular choice in Clarksville (Ft. Campbell, a huge Army base, is right next door), I would be sending the message that to be a part of the church you have to get all your opinions straight. I would be saying that the church is a place for those who have already achieved perfection, rather than a place for those who are mutually seeking perfection together.
I hope that this decision will be reversed by the new Judicial Council. Electing JC members is a proscribed duty of the General Conference, so I'm glad they made a good decision when they were forced to make one. There are a number of other important decisions that the GC seems to be postponing, but that will be the subject of my next post.
Monday, April 28, 2008
General Conference- April 27
Sunday at General Conference a couple of important issues were discussed.
The body voted to create a task force to examine the issue of global climate change and to prepare recommendations on how local churches can reduce their negative impact on the environment. I hope that in four years when these recommendations are presented that local churches will take them seriously. Even if the problem is not as bad as Al Gore and others say it is, it's clear that humans do have a negative impact on our climate, and these will help us be better stewards of God's creation.
Bishop Minerva Carcano of the Desert Southwest Conference (Phoenix Area) gave a sermon at one of the worship services in which she reminded us that the call of the church to serve the poor and marginalized included undocumented workers here in the United States (others prefer the more pejorative term "illegal immigrants"). We may disagree on how the current immigration problem needs to be handled, but I hope we can all agree that those that are here illegally are still human beings and deserve to have enough food to eat, shelter, and adequate medical care. Hopefully we can see those as human rights and not just privileges enjoyed by citizens of this country.
Finally, a number of prominent figures from the Civil Rights Movement, including James Lawson (who is an absolute legend at Vanderbilt Divinity School), spoke out on the issue of full inclusion in the United Methodist Church. Currently people whose sexual orientation (something we do not choose) is not hetero are prohibited from serving as clergy, and in many churches are even denied membership. Lawson and other leaders said that this practice constituted heterosexism and was as grave a sin as the racist practices that used to be legal. The rally marked the fortieth anniversary of the dissolution of the Central Jurisdiction, which kept black and white churches and clergy separate from one another regardless of geographic proximity.
I hope that the fact that people are speaking out on these important issues fosters a healthy dialogue amongst the delegates instead of causing them to retreat into their partisan camps to only trade soundbites with one another. We've already seen some evidence of the latter with the free cell phone incident. Let's hope that's the last of it and that we can all speak openly and honestly with one another.
Labels:
climate change,
General Conference,
homosexuality,
immigration
Saturday, April 26, 2008
General Conference- April 26
The first few days of General Conference were carefully scripted and intended to put the UMC's best foot forward. It didn't take long, however, for underhanded partisanship to rear its ugly head.
It was discovered yesterday that a group known as the "Renewal and Reform Coalition" has been offering the use of free cell phones to delegates from African, Asian, and Philippine conferences, as well as inviting them to "informational gatherings" where they will be instructed on how to vote on certain issues.
The "Renewal and Reform Coalition" is one of those groups that has chosen a seemingly harmless name, kind of like the "Family Research Council" or the "Institute for Freedom and Democracy" to avoid being upfront about their conservative agenda. Say what you want about groups like "Reconciling Ministries" and "Mosaic", but they are upfront about their agenda and stance on particular issues. Perhaps we'd be able to have a more open and honest dialogue about the real issues at and if we quit pretending we weren't divided on them.
What's even worse about this is it seems like the "Renewal and Reform Coalition" have read Rudyard Kipling a few too many times and feel a sense of "white man's burden" to instruct people from the two-third's world on how to vote, as if they couldn't make up their own minds for themselves.
It's time to stop this underhanded garbage, put away our bags of tricks, and sit down together and speak openly and honestly about the issues. I hope this will be the last incident of this type at General Conference, but only time will tell.
General Conference- April 25
The most notable thing about General Conference today was the first ever "Young People's Address". There is already an Episcopal Address from a member of the Council of Bishops and a Laity Address from a lay person. At the last GC a new section of the General Board of Discipleship was created to focus on Young People's Ministry, specifically young adults between college age and their thirties. This is a demographic that is largely missing from the UMC, so to show the denomination's commitment, the 2004 GC decided to have this address as part of the 2008 GC.
The Young People's Address came from six speakers- five of them young adults and one a young clergy person that works with young adults. They were all very impressive. I didn't have their public speaking skills when I was in high school or college. One in particular, Matt Lockett, had a couple of quotes that really stood out:
“It is time for us to set aside the fear of not being in control, and the ounce of comfort that comes with pretending to be righteous.”
“Will the church even exist if all we do is talk about the future without acting?”
What was not said explicitly in any of the Young People's Addresses, but I'd like to think was implied, was that while young people want to be a part of the church, they want to be able to make it their own. They don't just want to copy the way their parents and grandparents did it. There will be some of those elements that were handed down, of course, but they want to make church uniquely their own. This can be scary because it means that older generations will have to give up some control and get used to the fact that things might not look the same as they always have during their lifetimes. But just because it looks different doesn't mean it's not real. The same Spirit that brought thousands into the Church on the day of Pentecost still calls and drives people of every generation to follow Jesus and live out the Kingdom of God in their own way.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
General Conference- April 24
General Conference got underway yesterday, most of the day being devoted to orientation and organization, so there was not much in the way of controversial issues being discussed. The legislative committees begin their work this evening, so we will begin to get a sense of how this GC will play out.
Two notable things about yesterday were aspects of the opening worship. The communion table, and many of the other furnishings and elements used during the worship, were crafted from elements taken from areas that were destroyed by Hurricane Katrina in 2005. Since the General Conference is taking place in Ft. Worth, they are only a few hundred miles from areas that are still struggling to recover, their efforts remaining sorely underfunded. I hope this will be a reminder to the General Conference that one of the most important things we do as a denomination, and one of the things we seem to be best at, is mobilizing our resources to help clean up after disasters. As a denomination we have way too much bureaucracy and red tape, but the United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) is very good at getting resources where they need to be in a timely manner.
The other notable thing about yesterday was Bishop Huie's opening sermon, where she preached on the theme of Resurrection Hope. The past several GCs have been admittedly divisive, so those in charge of planning this year's GC put a lot of energy into encouraging the delegates to remain open, loving, and hopeful. One line from Bishop Huie's sermon interested/amused me:
"Hope has become a 'marshmallow word'. It sounds soft. It looks sweet and appealing. Get it close to the fire, and hope melts off the stick and drips on the ground. ... Resurrection hope transforms lives and changes the future. Tonight, through us, the people of The United Methodist Church gather around this table filled with resurrection hope."
The line amused me because Bishop Huie is making a not so subtle reference to Barack Obama's frequent use of the word "hope". Perhaps she's a Hilary or McCain fan. But more likely she is preaching the very real truth that some words tend to lose their meaning when they get used a lot. Christians gather not with a general sense of hope, but with a hope that is grounded in the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.
A lot of people, myself included, approach this General Conference with a bit of dread because of the divisiveness and negativity that has come before it. But that does not necessarily mean that this GC will be the same. If the Resurrection, and the hope that it gives us, shows us anything, it is that what has come before does not define what will come in the future. With God all things are possible- even getting one thousand people from all over the world to set aside their partisan agendas and work together to build a better future for the United Methodist Church.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
General Conference Blogging
Today the UMC's quadrennial (every four years) General Conference begins. As an interested/concerned person in the UMC, I will be providing some daily commentary on this blog.
You can follow the news at www.gc2008.umc.org
Also, if you are in the Clarksville, TN area, you can come to a daily gathering at Bethlehem UMC. Each day at 5pm we will gather in the sanctuary to discuss the day's events at GC, as well as pray for the delegates as they go about their work. All are welcome.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Finding Theology in "Desperate Housewives"
I can’t believe I’m writing this sentence, but there was some very good theology in this week’s episode of “Desperate Housewives”. This episode contained the typical “Housewives” fare, of course: secrets and deception, cheap sex jokes, dysfunctional relationships, and women over 40 showing way too much cleavage for most of our tastes. But one of the secondary story lines managed to sneak a valuable message about faith amongst the guilty pleasure that makes this show such a hit.
Lynette (played by Felicity Huffman) is the only character in this show I’d want to know in real life. Not only does she have a functional relationship with her significant other, but she actually manages to find healthy ways to deal with her problems. What such a character is doing on a prime time soap opera I have no idea, but I digress. Lynette grew up in a family that didn’t go to church, and she is one of the few residents of her neighborhood who doesn’t get dressed up and go out the door on Sunday mornings. But Lynette has been through a lot lately, having lost her hair in chemotherapy for breast cancer, and have witnessed a tornado wipe out half the neighborhood. As anyone facing these kinds of things might, Lynette has a few questions about God, so she seeks out her most religious (outwardly, at least) neighbor, Bree, and tags along to her Presbyterian church.
After what appears to have been an extremely long, boring sermon, Lynette stands up and raises her hand to ask a question, much to the chagrin of her friends and family. She didn’t grow up in church, after all, so she doesn’t know that you’re not supposed to do that. Bree later seeks out Lynette to set her straight. “Church isn’t a place for questions,” Bree explains, “it’s a place for answers.” This statement prompts Lynette to try the Catholic church instead, where presumably the priest is more open to questions, although I seriously doubt they’d stop the whole Mass just because someone had a question about the homily. Bree apologizes to her pastor later, only to find that he enjoyed the fact that someone cared more about understanding the sermon than about preserving decorum. “After all,” he says, “church is a place for questions, not just for answers.”
I loved this episode for a couple reasons. First of all it was nice to see a pastor on TV who was something other than a blithering idiot, a lecherous pervert, or a stodgy bulwark of the status quo. Also, I’d love it if people did what Lynette in my church. I’m much more interested in people understanding what the sermon is about than in preserving decorum or getting out on time, but for some reason we’ve developed a culture in the church, and perhaps in society at large, where maintaining the appearance of everything being nice and neat is more important than our struggle to really understand what is going on around us. I’m not sure why it is that we’re so afraid of asking questions. If someone comes to ask me a question about the sermon, they’ll usually preface it with, “I don't’ want to be disrespectful, but...”, not realizing that they’re paying the preacher the ultimate compliment by demonstrating that they were listening! Imagine that!
I’m not expecting next week’s episode of “Desperate Housewives” to have any theological value in the way this one did, but it was nice to see that even shows that can be as morally devoid as this one can have some heart from time to time. I guess it’s just proof that truth can be found anywhere.
Lynette (played by Felicity Huffman) is the only character in this show I’d want to know in real life. Not only does she have a functional relationship with her significant other, but she actually manages to find healthy ways to deal with her problems. What such a character is doing on a prime time soap opera I have no idea, but I digress. Lynette grew up in a family that didn’t go to church, and she is one of the few residents of her neighborhood who doesn’t get dressed up and go out the door on Sunday mornings. But Lynette has been through a lot lately, having lost her hair in chemotherapy for breast cancer, and have witnessed a tornado wipe out half the neighborhood. As anyone facing these kinds of things might, Lynette has a few questions about God, so she seeks out her most religious (outwardly, at least) neighbor, Bree, and tags along to her Presbyterian church.
After what appears to have been an extremely long, boring sermon, Lynette stands up and raises her hand to ask a question, much to the chagrin of her friends and family. She didn’t grow up in church, after all, so she doesn’t know that you’re not supposed to do that. Bree later seeks out Lynette to set her straight. “Church isn’t a place for questions,” Bree explains, “it’s a place for answers.” This statement prompts Lynette to try the Catholic church instead, where presumably the priest is more open to questions, although I seriously doubt they’d stop the whole Mass just because someone had a question about the homily. Bree apologizes to her pastor later, only to find that he enjoyed the fact that someone cared more about understanding the sermon than about preserving decorum. “After all,” he says, “church is a place for questions, not just for answers.”
I loved this episode for a couple reasons. First of all it was nice to see a pastor on TV who was something other than a blithering idiot, a lecherous pervert, or a stodgy bulwark of the status quo. Also, I’d love it if people did what Lynette in my church. I’m much more interested in people understanding what the sermon is about than in preserving decorum or getting out on time, but for some reason we’ve developed a culture in the church, and perhaps in society at large, where maintaining the appearance of everything being nice and neat is more important than our struggle to really understand what is going on around us. I’m not sure why it is that we’re so afraid of asking questions. If someone comes to ask me a question about the sermon, they’ll usually preface it with, “I don't’ want to be disrespectful, but...”, not realizing that they’re paying the preacher the ultimate compliment by demonstrating that they were listening! Imagine that!
I’m not expecting next week’s episode of “Desperate Housewives” to have any theological value in the way this one did, but it was nice to see that even shows that can be as morally devoid as this one can have some heart from time to time. I guess it’s just proof that truth can be found anywhere.
Labels:
Desperate Housewives,
preaching,
questions,
theology
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Give God what is God's
“Give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, and give unto God what is God’s.”
So says Jesus in both Matthew and Luke’s gospels. This is one of the best known sayings of Jesus, even among those who rarely if ever crack open a Bible. And let’s be honest, it’s one of the most overused proof texts ever. This verse has been used to justify Christian non-involvement in political issues, the idea of total non-participation in “secular” society, the idea that one should never question governmental authorities, and to justify labeling certain brands of right wing politics as “Christian”. I’m sure the same kind of loose proof texting has been used by those on the political left, too. I’ve just never encountered it myself.
I’ve commented on the intersection of religion and politics on a number of different occasions (they were my two undergraduate majors, after all), but the reason I’ve been thinking about it lately has been because of James Dobson, founder of “Focus on the Family”. Dobson is perhaps the last major voice of the first generation of the “Religious Right”. Jerry Falwell is dead, and Pat Robertson’s frequent outlandish comments have relegated him to practical obscurity. Recently Dobson went out of his way to continue his criticism of Sen. John McCain, who will be the Republican party’s Presidential candidate in the fall. Dobson said that he still wasn’t sure if McCain was a “true conservative”, and not so subtly implying that that massive voting bloc that he controls (whether this control is real or imagined and how big said bloc may be is up for debate, of course) may not support McCain in the general election. Dobson clearly fancies himself a king maker, or at the very least a major power broker in right wing politics.
Seeing people like Dobson make these kinds of comments makes me think of the Middle Ages when the popes gladly swung about their “two swords” (as defined by Augustine) of temporal and spiritual power. There’s a story about one particular pope (I can’t remember who at the moment) who got mad about something a European monarch did, so he excommunicated the king. The king, knowing darn well that he would be bound for Hell, if not in reality then at least in the minds of his subjects, realized he was defeated. The king proceeded to travel to the castle where the pope was staying and stand outside in the snow, barefoot, for several days before the pope agreed to absolve him of his sins and let him back in the church. While Protestants have no official means of excommunication, threatening to withhold votes from a politician is the most comparable weapon a religious leader can have today. But is having, let alone using, such a weapon really a good idea?
Religious leaders like James Dobson are committed, at least in theory, to doing the work of the Kingdom of God. Dobson believes that by following his teachings, people will be more in line with God’s will. In theory, this is “giving unto God what is God’s”- the hearts and minds of people. So how effective can one be in doing the work of the Kingdom when they’re so preoccupied with determining who gets to be Caesar? The Roman Emperor, the Caesar, was unquestionably the most powerful person in his time. Who holds such a position today if not the President of the United States? So forget about “giving unto Caesar what is Caesar’s”, some religious leaders are obsessed with the power to crown Caesar!
I like Martin Luther King, Jr.’s take on the intersection of religion and politics (we’re mourning the fortieth anniversary of his untimely death tomorrow, by the way): “the church should be neither the master of the state nor the servant of the state, but the conscience of the state”. Threatening to withhold a large bloc of votes seems to be an effort to be the master of the state. Unconditionally supporting a war and all the atrocities that come with it because Caesar claims the Christian faith seems to be acting as the servant of the state.
For us to be the conscience of the state we have to be engaged in what it is doing, but to be clear that our first loyalty is to God. This means more than allegiance to a particular political platform, no matter how many Bible verses we may be able to whip out to prove that it is the will of God. I’m not sure exactly what being the conscience of the state really looks like over the long term because I’m not sure that anyone has been able to sustain it for an extended period of time. So all that I can say is that when we find ourselves disagreeing with Caesar, not liking the direction our government is going, we need to identify ourselves as the loyal opposition. The concepts of loyalty and opposition aren’t mutually exclusive, but they are in tension with one another. So perhaps tension is the best way for us to be the conscience of the state: wanting the best for it and occasionally having to resort to some tough love. It’s not an easy job, but it’s one that is sorely needed.
So says Jesus in both Matthew and Luke’s gospels. This is one of the best known sayings of Jesus, even among those who rarely if ever crack open a Bible. And let’s be honest, it’s one of the most overused proof texts ever. This verse has been used to justify Christian non-involvement in political issues, the idea of total non-participation in “secular” society, the idea that one should never question governmental authorities, and to justify labeling certain brands of right wing politics as “Christian”. I’m sure the same kind of loose proof texting has been used by those on the political left, too. I’ve just never encountered it myself.
I’ve commented on the intersection of religion and politics on a number of different occasions (they were my two undergraduate majors, after all), but the reason I’ve been thinking about it lately has been because of James Dobson, founder of “Focus on the Family”. Dobson is perhaps the last major voice of the first generation of the “Religious Right”. Jerry Falwell is dead, and Pat Robertson’s frequent outlandish comments have relegated him to practical obscurity. Recently Dobson went out of his way to continue his criticism of Sen. John McCain, who will be the Republican party’s Presidential candidate in the fall. Dobson said that he still wasn’t sure if McCain was a “true conservative”, and not so subtly implying that that massive voting bloc that he controls (whether this control is real or imagined and how big said bloc may be is up for debate, of course) may not support McCain in the general election. Dobson clearly fancies himself a king maker, or at the very least a major power broker in right wing politics.
Seeing people like Dobson make these kinds of comments makes me think of the Middle Ages when the popes gladly swung about their “two swords” (as defined by Augustine) of temporal and spiritual power. There’s a story about one particular pope (I can’t remember who at the moment) who got mad about something a European monarch did, so he excommunicated the king. The king, knowing darn well that he would be bound for Hell, if not in reality then at least in the minds of his subjects, realized he was defeated. The king proceeded to travel to the castle where the pope was staying and stand outside in the snow, barefoot, for several days before the pope agreed to absolve him of his sins and let him back in the church. While Protestants have no official means of excommunication, threatening to withhold votes from a politician is the most comparable weapon a religious leader can have today. But is having, let alone using, such a weapon really a good idea?
Religious leaders like James Dobson are committed, at least in theory, to doing the work of the Kingdom of God. Dobson believes that by following his teachings, people will be more in line with God’s will. In theory, this is “giving unto God what is God’s”- the hearts and minds of people. So how effective can one be in doing the work of the Kingdom when they’re so preoccupied with determining who gets to be Caesar? The Roman Emperor, the Caesar, was unquestionably the most powerful person in his time. Who holds such a position today if not the President of the United States? So forget about “giving unto Caesar what is Caesar’s”, some religious leaders are obsessed with the power to crown Caesar!
I like Martin Luther King, Jr.’s take on the intersection of religion and politics (we’re mourning the fortieth anniversary of his untimely death tomorrow, by the way): “the church should be neither the master of the state nor the servant of the state, but the conscience of the state”. Threatening to withhold a large bloc of votes seems to be an effort to be the master of the state. Unconditionally supporting a war and all the atrocities that come with it because Caesar claims the Christian faith seems to be acting as the servant of the state.
For us to be the conscience of the state we have to be engaged in what it is doing, but to be clear that our first loyalty is to God. This means more than allegiance to a particular political platform, no matter how many Bible verses we may be able to whip out to prove that it is the will of God. I’m not sure exactly what being the conscience of the state really looks like over the long term because I’m not sure that anyone has been able to sustain it for an extended period of time. So all that I can say is that when we find ourselves disagreeing with Caesar, not liking the direction our government is going, we need to identify ourselves as the loyal opposition. The concepts of loyalty and opposition aren’t mutually exclusive, but they are in tension with one another. So perhaps tension is the best way for us to be the conscience of the state: wanting the best for it and occasionally having to resort to some tough love. It’s not an easy job, but it’s one that is sorely needed.
Labels:
Caesar,
James Dobson,
John McCain,
Martin Luther King Jr.,
politics,
religion
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
There Will Be Vader
Two of the great nihilists in film history (excluding, of course, the Germans from "The Big Lebowski") finally meet. Here's what it would look like if Daniel Plainview was badly burned when the oil derrick blew up, had to put on Darth Vader's suit to survive, and was transported to a galaxy far, far away...
My only question is how Darth Vader is going to drink a milkshake? The force is strong with this one...
See more funny videos at CollegeHumor
My only question is how Darth Vader is going to drink a milkshake? The force is strong with this one...
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
5 years later
Today is the 5th anniversary of the US's invasion of Iraq. Today President Bush gave a speech defending his decision to start this war and his resolve to keep fighting it. Today many other politicians, including presidential hopefuls McCain, Clinton, and Obama, will give speeches touting their positions, saying why the war was and is a good idea or was/is a terrible idea. Whether it's appropriate or not, today is a day filled with rhetoric.
I've weighed in on this war before, so I won't rehash my position. If you want to know how I feel, just look to the left for the pink button. That will tell you all you need to know. So instead of policy talking points or even a lengthy theological interpretation thereof, I want to share my memories of where I was five years ago when we started this war.
Five years ago, in March of 2003, I was a Senior at Butler University getting ready to graduate and move to Nashville to start at Vanderbilt Divinity School in the Fall. On this particular day I was in the informal room of the fraternity house where I lived, along with about two dozen of my brothers watching the opening rounds of the NCAA basketball tournament. Most of us didn't go to class that day because we didn't want our schedule of beer drinking, pizza eating, and basketball watching/ amateur commentating to be interrupted by something as silly as academics. Like it or not, this is the logic of guys in college.
This yearly basketball viewing ritual was a little different, however. The games continued without interruption (because God forbid viewing of a single free throw be interrupted by breaking news of people dying), but during the commercials Dan Rather would come on the screen and show us live footage of Baghdad being bombed. Since it was nighttime in that part of the world, we saw the bombing in fuzzy green night-vision.
Fueled by a combination of too much alcohol and too many video-games, most of the guys cheered for each explosion the way they did a three point shot. The cheers were accompanied by laughter, very creative racial slurs, and impressions of people with Arabic accents running from falling bombs.
I wish I could say that I spoke up and told my friends that this wasn't OK, that each explosion meant that people died, and that people we knew might be killed in the invasion. I wish I could say that I took a moral stand, but I didn't. The whole experience was so surreal that I sat there transfixed, unable to believe what I was seeing on TV, never mind being able to process the reactions around me.
You can support the war or oppose the war, but people dying is never funny. All wars, no matter how positive the outcome (and I firmly believe that positive things can come out of any situation, no matter how bad), the death of anyone, civilian or soldier, is a tragedy. We can and should debate with one another whether the war was the right thing to do and whether we should stay in Iraq, but as we do, let us remember that lives are being lost every day that are never coming back. People lovingly created in God's image are dying, and God is the first one who cries any time any person meets a violent end.
I hope and pray that we we reflect on, debate, and disagree about what has happened over the last five years, that we can remember all the precious lives that have been lost, and that whatever position we support, we do so sincerely trying to honor those lost lives.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Speaking out against torture
I usually refrain from commenting on specific political issues. While I believe Christianity should be politically engaged, I don't believe it should be partisan in the way many on the Religious Right have been during my lifetime, seemingly giving unwavering support to one particular political party no matter what they do. Not being part of the Religious Right, I don't want to replicate the problem by giving unwavering support to the other political party. So what I'm about to say should not be taken as an endorsement of any political party or individual candidate for elected office.
At the end of last week President Bush vetoed a bill that would ban what he calls "enhanced interrogation techniques" that include a practice called "waterboarding", which creates the sensation of drowning for the purpose of extracting information from a person. I believe that waterboarding is cruel, inhumane punishment, and that terms like "enhanced interrogation techniques" are a fancy way of avoiding the only adequate term for such practices: torture.
As a citizen of the United States, my government represents me in all of its policies. I have not only the right but the duty to speak out when my government's practices conflict with my personal beliefs.
Much more importantly, as a Christian I cannot sit silently while another human being is being subjected to such cruel treatment. Every human being, including a terrorist, is a child of God, lovingly created in God's image. God weeps whenever human life is treated as anything less than sacred. Practices like waterboarding are not acceptable to those who believe in the sanctity of human life.
One of the cornerstones of both of George W. Bush's campaigns for President was his very public Christian faith and his claims to be a strong moral leader. He claims to be staunchly pro-life, referring to his opposition to abortion. A great moral leader who is truly pro-life would respect life both in and out of the womb.
The sacredness of human life is something granted by God's grace, and as such cannot be lessened or taken away by anything a person can do, including murder or acts of terrorism. Those who commit such acts should be detained and prevented from committing further acts that disrespect the sanctity of human life, but that does not make it acceptable for governments to disrespect even a single human life in the pursuit of protecting other lives. Either every life is sacred or none are.
Martin Niemoller was a Lutheran pastor in Germany in the 1930s who opposed Hitler but, unlike colleagues like Detrich Bonhoeffer (who called his own participation in the plot to kill Hitler a sin), didn't speak out, and he was eventually imprisoned in a concentration camp. Later he wrote a poem that said:
First they came for the Communists, but I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist.
Then they came for the trade Jews, but I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew.
Then they came for the homosexuals, but I didn't speak up because I wasn't a homosexual.
Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak up.
I'm not worried that the US government is ever going to arrest me and subject me to waterboarding. But it doesn't matter. Fellow human beings are being tortured by my government, and because I am a Christian I cannot stay silent.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thoughts on a Leap Day
Today is February 29: Leap Day, which only comes every four years. I have a friend whose birthday is on February 29, so she only gets to celebrate a real birthday every four years (she always has an excuse to party, though, so the seeming lack of birthdays doesn't hold her back). Because of this she remembers where she was on every Leap Day of her life. My memory isn't quite that good, but I thought I'd look back and see where I was (generally) on all the Leap Days of my life.
1980- I wasn't born until November, so I was barely an embryo on this Leap Day, if that. Good times.
1984- I was still a toddler, probably not even in preschool by this point. I had a baby brother who was about 18 months old, and our mother's life was probably focused on meeting our every need. Those were the days.
1988- I was in first grade, and we were living in Colorado. At some point during these few years we had a blizzard that dumped so much snow on us that I literally walked to school in snow that was waist deep. It was only uphill one way, but still.
1992- I was in fifth grade and we had just moved to Nashville that previous summer. This wasn't the best year because I missed my friends from Denver, but I eventually adjusted.
1996- I was a freshman at Brentwood High School and was chomping at the bit to get my driver's license in the fall. Mr. Box, our band director, decided it would be a good idea to have a "Leap Day Concert" since they happened so rarely.
2000- My freshman year at Butler, and I had been a pledge in Phi Kappa Psi for a little over a month. I was in my first year of my first youth ministry job at Speedway UMC in Indianapolis, which is about two blocks from the actual Speedway. We didn't have church on Sundays when there were races because it was too loud and the foundations of the building shook. I made the mistake of having a youth event during qualifying for the Brickyard, so I learned this the hard way. I thought the roof was going to fall in.
2004- My first year at Vanderbilt Divinity School, and I was working at Crievewood UMC in Nashville as Youth Director, where I would also eventually become Associate Pastor. Grad School was kicking my butt, but I was starting to get the hang of it. Jessica and I had dated for a while the previous semester and had taken a break, so on Leap Day I was still pining away for her and hoping we'd get back together. Thankfully that would happen in less than a month!
2008- Here I am in Clarksville, TN. I'm the pastor of Bethlehem UMC, I'm married to Jessica (yayy!), and I've spent my Leap Day writing a sermon about Jesus' conflicts with the religious establishment of his day, watching "The Sopranos" on DVD (my latest fixation), and of course, blogging.
Looking back at where I've been on all the Leap Days of my life, I realize how blessed I am to have had as many different experiences as I have in the relatively short time I've been alive. There have been good time and bad ones, but overall it's been pretty great. So where will I find myself on Leap Day 2012? All I know is I'll be 31 years old. The rest? We'll just have to see. Stay tuned...
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Let's Define the Terms, Please!
Something’s been bugging me lately in all the rhetorical sound bites that are being thrown around in the Presidential campaign. OK, so a lot of things bug me about it, but I’m only going to mention one right now. When I hear candidates talk about the “War on Terror” I often hear them describe the enemy with the term “Islamic Fascism” or “Islamofacism” (which is not technically a word, but W. has shown us that Merriam Webster is no obstacle). This is a very handy term because it recalls our communal fears of another rise of Naziism, and it stokes our fears of Islam because most of us don’t know anything about it other than crazy stories we’ve heard about the Taliban. The term “Islamic Fascism” is very useful for making people afraid. I totally disagree with using fear as the sole motivation for anything, but that’s a subject for another post. What I want to point out today is that “Islamic Fascism” is a contradiction in terms.
Simply put, Fascism and Islam have absolutely nothing to do with one another. Fascism is a political philosophy that arose after most of the monarchies in Europe collapsed and states like Italy and Germany unified during the nineteenth century. Nationalism that was based on common geographic, ethnic, and cultural identity, rather than allegiance to a particular monarch, was on the rise and Fascism began to take shape. The major examples of Fascist governments were those of Mussolini in Italy and the National Socialist government under Hitler in Germany.
The basic principle of Fascism is that loyalty to the state trumps all other loyalties. Fascism is essentially atheistic because religion can lead to divided loyalties. Fascism only tolerates religion insofar as it serves the needs of the state and promotes loyalty to the state. Fascism stood in direct opposition to Communism, which had as it’s goal the eventual elimination of all state structures, relying on the essential altruism of human beings to care for the needs of others. Fascism believes that people are not essentially good and therefore need to be controlled.
Islam is first and foremost a religion, not a political philosophy. In Islam, loyalty to God, not to the state, is the first and only priority. In fact the word “Muslim” means one who submits to the will of God. While it is true that many Muslims have expressed the desire to see the entire Muslim world united under an Islamic caliphate, that is more a product of medieval Middle Eastern political culture than specifically Islamic theology. It is also true that certain governments, like the Taliban in Afghanistan, have been heavy handed states that attempted to control almost all aspects of their citizens’ lives, but this is indicative of a particularly radical interpretation of Islam that does not represent the majority of the Muslim world.
Like Judaism and Christianity, Islam believes that humanity is fallen and sinful, but that it has not totally lost its capacity for good. For a Muslim, following the five pillars of Islam is a way of disciplining oneself and ordering one’s actions to reflect the will of God. Islam does not, like Fascism, believe that people’s actions have to be completely controlled for the common good to be served.
Using terms like “Islamic Fascism” is not only an insult to Muslims, it’s an insult to educated, thinking people everywhere. Using terms like that reveals an assumption that people’s fear of the unknown is a greater motivator than their desire for the common good. This is the same assumption that Fascism makes, by the way, which is more than a little ironic.
Instead of using invented terms like “Islamic Fascism”, I implore all candidates for office to talk about real issues and real problems and not simply create phony “straw men” to scare people into voting for you. The only way we can make positive change and achieve the common good is to be honest about what we’re really trying to do, and not to exploit fear and misunderstanding for personal and political gain.
Simply put, Fascism and Islam have absolutely nothing to do with one another. Fascism is a political philosophy that arose after most of the monarchies in Europe collapsed and states like Italy and Germany unified during the nineteenth century. Nationalism that was based on common geographic, ethnic, and cultural identity, rather than allegiance to a particular monarch, was on the rise and Fascism began to take shape. The major examples of Fascist governments were those of Mussolini in Italy and the National Socialist government under Hitler in Germany.
The basic principle of Fascism is that loyalty to the state trumps all other loyalties. Fascism is essentially atheistic because religion can lead to divided loyalties. Fascism only tolerates religion insofar as it serves the needs of the state and promotes loyalty to the state. Fascism stood in direct opposition to Communism, which had as it’s goal the eventual elimination of all state structures, relying on the essential altruism of human beings to care for the needs of others. Fascism believes that people are not essentially good and therefore need to be controlled.
Islam is first and foremost a religion, not a political philosophy. In Islam, loyalty to God, not to the state, is the first and only priority. In fact the word “Muslim” means one who submits to the will of God. While it is true that many Muslims have expressed the desire to see the entire Muslim world united under an Islamic caliphate, that is more a product of medieval Middle Eastern political culture than specifically Islamic theology. It is also true that certain governments, like the Taliban in Afghanistan, have been heavy handed states that attempted to control almost all aspects of their citizens’ lives, but this is indicative of a particularly radical interpretation of Islam that does not represent the majority of the Muslim world.
Like Judaism and Christianity, Islam believes that humanity is fallen and sinful, but that it has not totally lost its capacity for good. For a Muslim, following the five pillars of Islam is a way of disciplining oneself and ordering one’s actions to reflect the will of God. Islam does not, like Fascism, believe that people’s actions have to be completely controlled for the common good to be served.
Using terms like “Islamic Fascism” is not only an insult to Muslims, it’s an insult to educated, thinking people everywhere. Using terms like that reveals an assumption that people’s fear of the unknown is a greater motivator than their desire for the common good. This is the same assumption that Fascism makes, by the way, which is more than a little ironic.
Instead of using invented terms like “Islamic Fascism”, I implore all candidates for office to talk about real issues and real problems and not simply create phony “straw men” to scare people into voting for you. The only way we can make positive change and achieve the common good is to be honest about what we’re really trying to do, and not to exploit fear and misunderstanding for personal and political gain.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Unbelievably shameless self promotion
After a year or so of the freelance writing market not being terribly lucrative for me, some of my stuff has been published again. I wrote the Sermon Starters for Circuit Rider, a publication for United Methodist clergy.
You can read them online by clicking HERE.
Click on the link on the page, and a PDF file will open. Feedback is always welcome!
Monday, January 28, 2008
Belated Thoughts on MLK Day
I’ve been sitting on this blog post for a little while, for fear of being politically incorrect. Over the King holiday weekend I found myself being very uncomfortable with a lot of the rhetoric that was intended to honor him. For all of the sincerity in the praise that pundits, athletes, politicians, and preachers lavished on Martin Luther King, Jr., it seemed that something was missing. It seemed like we weren’t really talking about the real King.
I feel weird saying that, because how can an upper middle class white guy who was born more than a decade after King was killed claim to know “the real Martin Luther King”? I don’t mean to imply that I fully understand who he really was. I’m not even sure who I really am half the time. What I am saying is that if we take a closer look at his public ministry we might get a different picture than the relatively safe figure who occupies an elevated seat in the narrative of the American Civil Religion.
Chris Rock has a bit that he does about taking a class in black history, which he thought he could ace without studying because he was black. To his surprise, the answer to every question was not “Martin Luther King”. I’m pretty sure that my knowledge of black history was about as deep as Chris Rock’s until I got to college. They taught me in grade school that Martin Luther King was a great man who said that everyone should be equal, and they would show us a clip from “I Have a Dream”. It turns out they only told us the safe part of the story.
It wasn’t until a number of years later that I found out that King was concerned with a lot more than ending segregation. In his last few years he began to speak out against the Vietnam War, against the advice of many of his friends because they thought it would undermine their continuing work on civil rights. King said that he couldn’t not speak out because Vietnam represented the same injustice and oppression they were fighting against in the US.
As I began to learn more, I also discovered that King was concerned about poverty issues for the same reasons he spoke out on segregation and Vietnam. I had always known that he was killed in Memphis, but nobody taught me that he was there to lend support to a sanitation worker’s strike. As I learned more about who Martin Luther King was and what he stood for I began to have a hard time understanding why he’s quoted so much by people who are pro-war, anti-union, and couldn’t care less about poverty.
What I’ve come to realize is that we’ve done the same thing to Martin Luther King, Jr. that we’ve done to Jesus and countless other prophets, radicals, and charismatic leaders who were a thorn in the side of the established powers of their day. We’ve selectively edited our collective memories of who they were and what they did to make them safe, and then we hold them up as role models who seem to support the status quo, even though they were driven by a passion to see fundamental change in the way we live together as a human community. By pretending to honor them we disgrace their memories by ignoring what they stood for.
I’m glad we have a national holiday to remember Martin Luther King, Jr. It’s important for us to remember not only him as an individual, but the things that he stood for. So let’s not be afraid to say what it was he really stood for, and how his message impacts us today. Were King alive today he would have some very strong opinions about the war in Iraq, about the fight over immigration, and about our health care crisis. And they probably wouldn’t be very popular, certainly not befitting such a lauded American hero. Somehow a radical who was uncompromising in his fight for justice has become one of our national saints, so to truly honor his memory we might just have to become radicals for justice ourselves. I’m pretty sure Martin Luther King, Jr. would have wanted it that way.
I feel weird saying that, because how can an upper middle class white guy who was born more than a decade after King was killed claim to know “the real Martin Luther King”? I don’t mean to imply that I fully understand who he really was. I’m not even sure who I really am half the time. What I am saying is that if we take a closer look at his public ministry we might get a different picture than the relatively safe figure who occupies an elevated seat in the narrative of the American Civil Religion.
Chris Rock has a bit that he does about taking a class in black history, which he thought he could ace without studying because he was black. To his surprise, the answer to every question was not “Martin Luther King”. I’m pretty sure that my knowledge of black history was about as deep as Chris Rock’s until I got to college. They taught me in grade school that Martin Luther King was a great man who said that everyone should be equal, and they would show us a clip from “I Have a Dream”. It turns out they only told us the safe part of the story.
It wasn’t until a number of years later that I found out that King was concerned with a lot more than ending segregation. In his last few years he began to speak out against the Vietnam War, against the advice of many of his friends because they thought it would undermine their continuing work on civil rights. King said that he couldn’t not speak out because Vietnam represented the same injustice and oppression they were fighting against in the US.
As I began to learn more, I also discovered that King was concerned about poverty issues for the same reasons he spoke out on segregation and Vietnam. I had always known that he was killed in Memphis, but nobody taught me that he was there to lend support to a sanitation worker’s strike. As I learned more about who Martin Luther King was and what he stood for I began to have a hard time understanding why he’s quoted so much by people who are pro-war, anti-union, and couldn’t care less about poverty.
What I’ve come to realize is that we’ve done the same thing to Martin Luther King, Jr. that we’ve done to Jesus and countless other prophets, radicals, and charismatic leaders who were a thorn in the side of the established powers of their day. We’ve selectively edited our collective memories of who they were and what they did to make them safe, and then we hold them up as role models who seem to support the status quo, even though they were driven by a passion to see fundamental change in the way we live together as a human community. By pretending to honor them we disgrace their memories by ignoring what they stood for.
I’m glad we have a national holiday to remember Martin Luther King, Jr. It’s important for us to remember not only him as an individual, but the things that he stood for. So let’s not be afraid to say what it was he really stood for, and how his message impacts us today. Were King alive today he would have some very strong opinions about the war in Iraq, about the fight over immigration, and about our health care crisis. And they probably wouldn’t be very popular, certainly not befitting such a lauded American hero. Somehow a radical who was uncompromising in his fight for justice has become one of our national saints, so to truly honor his memory we might just have to become radicals for justice ourselves. I’m pretty sure Martin Luther King, Jr. would have wanted it that way.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Resolving Our Differences
The latest incident in a very public spat at one of Nashville's most prominent churches has me very upset. For those that aren't familiar with the situation, here's a link to the story in the Tennessean newspaper: Two Rivers threatens to oust suers.
Sidenote: I'm going against my usual rule here. When I'm critical of something I try to do it in such a way where I'm criticizing ideas and general practices, as opposed to criticizing specific individuals, especially when it comes to fellow pastors. That being said, I'm going to be very critical of a fellow pastor.
Several members of Two Rivers Baptist Church recently filed a lawsuit against the pastor, Jerry Sutton, and other church leaders because the concerned parties believed that these leaders were misappropriating church funds. While I'm not sure that filing a lawsuit is the best way to solve conflict in the church, I believe that church members have a right to know how the leaders are spending the money that people tithe in good faith. It seems that Two Rivers doesn't disclose their budget, even to members, which is more than a little shady. So right or wrong, this group of church members has filed suit.
So what does the pastor, the spiritual leader of the congregation, do in response? He threatens to kick them out for daring to question his leadership! What's more, he proof texts to defend his actions. Citing Matthew 18:15-17, he argues that kicking people out of the church is the biblical last step in conflict resolution because Jesus says to treat the person "as you would a pagan or a tax collector".
But how did Jesus treat pagans like Jarius, the Roman centurion? He healed his daughter. How did Jesus treat tax collectors like Matthew and Zacchaeus? He ate with them (the ultimate sign of trust and fellowship in the ancient world), he forgave them of all their sins before they even asked for it, and he invited one of them to be his disciple. The last thing Jesus would do is bar someone from even attending a worship service.
My point is this: if we are seeking to live out God's grace in all that we do, then we won't be afraid to get our hands dirty. Simply cutting off a relationship might be the quickest and easiest thing to do, but it is not the path of reconciliation that God calls us to. I pray that Pastor Sutton will demonstrate this grace to his people by dropping the threat of excommunication and doing everything in his power to not only resolve the situation at hand but to reconcile the strained relationships. Both parties in this conflict clearly have sins to atone for, and the true spiritual leader won't be too proud to take the first step, even if the other person started it. Doing so would be a powerful witness to the work of God's grace in the world.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Looking forward, looking back
It's a new year. Time for new issues, new thoughts, and new blogs. I'll begin this year by considering what will be happening in my denomination in a few months. In April the United Methodist Church will have it's quadrennial General Conference. It's a meeting we have every four years that consists of an equal number of lay and clergy delegates from every conference in the world. General Conference is the only body that can officially speak for the entire denomination. So as you can imagine, these meetings are always significant.
I'll be honest. I'm very worried about what's going to happen this year at General Conference. I'm not worried because there is tremendous disagreement over hot-button cultural issues- that's merely reflective of the world we live in. What worries me is that at the last several General Conferences, as well as in the rhetoric (including the Methodist Blogosphere) in between, we've seen a tremendous spirit of disunity and unwillingness to live together amidst our differences.
At each Annual Conference session this past year, delegates were elected to represent the conferences at GC. Almost immediately, the lobbying began. A number of groups on what we in America would call the conservative side of the hot button issues have held "informational meetings" with the stated intention of helping delegates understand what is at stake at GC. These "informational meetings" look a whole lot like the "voter guides" that Jerry Falwell and other members of the Religious Right used to produce right before elections: they seem to be pushing a highly partisan agenda rather than merely providing information.
I don't think there's anything wrong with taking sides on these issues, per se. I certainly have strong opinions on a lot of issues. What worries me is that long before the delegates to GC gather, issue groups are drawing battle lines. It's as if we're going into this with an "us vs. them" mentality. The fact that a small but vocal minority has been advocating a split in the UMC along partisan lines only increases my anxiety about the future of our denomination.
There is more than enough room for disagreement and diversity in the United Methodist Church. We've always been a "big tent" denomination. After all, we count as members both George W. Bush and Hillary Clinton! One of the reasons John Wesley believed conferencing to be a means of grace was that it gave us the chance to sit down at the table together, face to face, and work out our issues together in a spirit of unity. To be fair, for John Wesley "unity" meant agreeing with him on every single issue (he was the consummate type A control freak), but the concept remains beneficial.
If we go into General Conference with an "us against them" mentality we will be sending the wrong message about who we are as a denomination. We will be just another group that draws battle lines and values winning at all costs. If, on the other hand, we choose to work together in a spirit of love and compassion we will send the message that fellowship and unity (amidst our diversity) in Christ is what our church is all about.
So what will we choose? Let's watch and see.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
A little fun with titles
I recently recieved an email from some folks at the United Methodist Publishing House, and one of the projects they're working on is a study Bible with a Wesleyan theme. It sounds like a pretty cool project, but they're having trouble coming up with a title. The ones they're kicking around right now include: The Wesley Study Bible, The Wesley Life Study Bible, The Wesley Abundant Life Bible, and The Wesley Intentional Life Bible.
While I'm sure these are fine titles, I think we in the blogosphere can do better. I'll offer up a few suggestions of my own, and I want readers to offer their suggestions as well. Bonus points for coming up with the most obscure/humorous titles from Wesley's writings and sermons. Here are a few examples:
The Scripture Way of Salvation Study Bible
The Reasonable Enthusiast Study Bible
The Circumcision of the Heart Study Bible
The Study Bible that will Strangely Warm Your Heart
And finally, a not exactly Wesleyan entry: The Wesleyan Best Life Now Study Bible, with special guest editor Joel Osteen.
Alright, your turn. The best entry wins... a sentence or two of praise on my blog. And who wouldn't want that? Let's hear your suggestions.
While I'm sure these are fine titles, I think we in the blogosphere can do better. I'll offer up a few suggestions of my own, and I want readers to offer their suggestions as well. Bonus points for coming up with the most obscure/humorous titles from Wesley's writings and sermons. Here are a few examples:
The Scripture Way of Salvation Study Bible
The Reasonable Enthusiast Study Bible
The Circumcision of the Heart Study Bible
The Study Bible that will Strangely Warm Your Heart
And finally, a not exactly Wesleyan entry: The Wesleyan Best Life Now Study Bible, with special guest editor Joel Osteen.
Alright, your turn. The best entry wins... a sentence or two of praise on my blog. And who wouldn't want that? Let's hear your suggestions.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Violence in Church
By now you’ve probably heard all about the shootings at a missionary training center and a mega-church in Colorado (if you haven’t, here’s a report courtesy of the New York Times). Whenever a senseless act of violence occurs theological questions inevitably follow, mostly asking why a good and loving God would allow such a thing to happen. This incident is no different, but the fact that the gunman was killed in a church by a volunteer security guard raises some serious ethical questions as well.
I am torn on whether having armed security guards in a church is a good thing or not. As a pastor I can’t even begin to imagine how I would feel if someone walked into my church and started shooting. If one of my parishioners killed the shooter before he could do any further harm I would be relieved because I don’t want to see anyone in my church (or anyone else, for that matter) hurt. And yet I’m not totally comfortable with church condoning violence, even if it is in self defense.
In Matthew 26 we find Judas leading a large group of armed men straight to Jesus. Peter, attempting to defend Jesus, draws a sword and cuts off a guy’s ear. Simon Peter: God’s soldier. Great idea, right? Except that Jesus stops him, supernatural-glues the guy’s ear back on, and says, “All who live by the sword will die by the sword”, and then submits himself to torture and execution. So began the Christian tradition of non-violent resistance to evil. The list of notable exceptions is too long to mention (we’re still paying the price for the actions of our Crusader ancestors), but the fact remains that Jesus was a non-violent person, even though his instinct for self-preservation was as strong as anybody else’s. So does this mean that followers of Jesus can never engage in violence of any sort?
Dietrich Bonhoeffer struggled with this very same question. In 1937 he published The Cost of Discipleship, his own study of the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) and probably the greatest articulation of a Christian theology of non-violence ever written. And yet Bonhoeffer was executed at Buchenwald in 1945 for his participation in the plot to kill Adolf Hitler. A man who preached non-violence so passionately participated in attempted assassination, and suffered a violent death as a result. Does this make him a hypocrite? I don’t believe so. Bonhoeffer wrote in his Letters and Papers from Prison that he could not justify his violent actions. He said that not acting in the face of evil was itself evil, and that he knew what he must do even if he went to Hell for it. This action was, in Bonhoeffer’s view, not a necessary evil, but a lesser evil.
Killing a gunman in the lobby of a church undoubtedly resulted in fewer lives lost than would have been had he gone on with his shooting rampage. But I’m not ready to say that it was a justifiable or necessary act. The volunteer security guard claims that God steadied her hand and guided her aim. Whether or not that’s true is between her and God. All I know is that she made a choice in a situation where no ideal outcome was possible, and the result was probably the lesser evil. Violence is always evil, even if it is done for the right reason. All we can do is ask God for forgiveness for all our sins and pray for the courage to make the best decisions in situations where no one wins.
I am torn on whether having armed security guards in a church is a good thing or not. As a pastor I can’t even begin to imagine how I would feel if someone walked into my church and started shooting. If one of my parishioners killed the shooter before he could do any further harm I would be relieved because I don’t want to see anyone in my church (or anyone else, for that matter) hurt. And yet I’m not totally comfortable with church condoning violence, even if it is in self defense.
In Matthew 26 we find Judas leading a large group of armed men straight to Jesus. Peter, attempting to defend Jesus, draws a sword and cuts off a guy’s ear. Simon Peter: God’s soldier. Great idea, right? Except that Jesus stops him, supernatural-glues the guy’s ear back on, and says, “All who live by the sword will die by the sword”, and then submits himself to torture and execution. So began the Christian tradition of non-violent resistance to evil. The list of notable exceptions is too long to mention (we’re still paying the price for the actions of our Crusader ancestors), but the fact remains that Jesus was a non-violent person, even though his instinct for self-preservation was as strong as anybody else’s. So does this mean that followers of Jesus can never engage in violence of any sort?
Dietrich Bonhoeffer struggled with this very same question. In 1937 he published The Cost of Discipleship, his own study of the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) and probably the greatest articulation of a Christian theology of non-violence ever written. And yet Bonhoeffer was executed at Buchenwald in 1945 for his participation in the plot to kill Adolf Hitler. A man who preached non-violence so passionately participated in attempted assassination, and suffered a violent death as a result. Does this make him a hypocrite? I don’t believe so. Bonhoeffer wrote in his Letters and Papers from Prison that he could not justify his violent actions. He said that not acting in the face of evil was itself evil, and that he knew what he must do even if he went to Hell for it. This action was, in Bonhoeffer’s view, not a necessary evil, but a lesser evil.
Killing a gunman in the lobby of a church undoubtedly resulted in fewer lives lost than would have been had he gone on with his shooting rampage. But I’m not ready to say that it was a justifiable or necessary act. The volunteer security guard claims that God steadied her hand and guided her aim. Whether or not that’s true is between her and God. All I know is that she made a choice in a situation where no ideal outcome was possible, and the result was probably the lesser evil. Violence is always evil, even if it is done for the right reason. All we can do is ask God for forgiveness for all our sins and pray for the courage to make the best decisions in situations where no one wins.
Labels:
Bohnoeffer,
church,
discipleship,
evil,
theology,
violence
Thursday, November 29, 2007
A Community Called Atonement- part 5
In the last section of A Community Called Atonement, Scott McKnight moves away from the theological examination of atonement and explores the social aspects of understanding atonement as a way of life for the church community. Living out this theological understanding is what he calls “Atonement as Missional Praxis”.
The first area of this missional praxis McKnight explores is Fellowship. Being a Reformed theologian, he grounds this understanding of fellowship in God’s life in Trinity. The Trinity exists is perichoresis: an equal, mutually beneficial relationship with one another where no member dominates another. While each member of the Trinity is interdependent with one another, they each have a strong sense of self-identity within the relationship. McKnight takes the Trinitarian life as the model for the human community. In this way the life of the human community can be atoning because it reflects the life of the divine community.
Justice is the next area of missional praxis. McKnight is careful to define justice as God’s standard for human behavior instead of by what he sees as secular theories of justice that are not rooted in an understanding of God. McKnight spends most of this chapter discussing what he believes is God’s standard for humanity as revealed in the Bible, specifically in passages from Isaiah, Jeremiah, the Minor Prophets, Matthew, Acts, and Ephesians. McKnight understands justice in the human community as restoring “cracked Eikons” (imperfect bearers of God’s image) to more accurately reflect their created purpose.
Mission itself is an area of missional praxis. McKnight talks about this by contrasting what he calls “missional” and “attractional” ecclesiologies (theologies of church). An attractional ecclesiology is designed to get as many people in the door as possible in hopes of saving the greatest number of souls. The end result is the church being a large, complex organization. A missional ecclesiology, on the other hand, is one where the church seeks to minimize itself and seeks to equip its members to live missional lives. McKnight defines a missional ecclesiology as the church existing for the world. This missional focus is evangelistic because it seeks to show the self emptying love of God in every action.
Another aspect of practicing atonement as missional praxis is living out the story of the Word. McKnight is suggesting that Scripture itself plays an atoning role in the life of the community. He contrasts his vision of Scripture’s role in communal life against Bibliodolatry: giving the Bible itself a place coequal to (or even above) God. He rightly points out that the Bible is a book produced by the church (sorry, but the King James version did not float down from Heaven) and neither can exist apart from the other. Scripture does not exist to be probed for secrets and codes, but to shape the lives of individuals and communities and direct them to having a missional focus.
The practices of baptism, Eucharist, and prayer also play into the concept of atonement as missional praxis. Baptism is symbolic of purification from Sin and incorporation into the life of the community, and therefore embodies atonement. Similarly, the Eucharist is the sign of our continuing incorporation into the Body of Christ and our missional calling as part of that body. The Eucharistic prayers recall the death and Resurrection of Jesus- the central narrative of atonement. Likewise, prayer is a continual reminder of this incorporation because we are privileged to have direct communication with God, which would not be possible without atonement.
With these reflections McKnight ends the book rather abruptly. There is no proper conclusion, formal or informal. This is rather appropriate because while I found the premise of this book very exciting and certain parts extremely satisfying, ultimately I found that the project never really came to fruition. Instead of letting the merits of each atonement story stand on their own and interact with one another freely, McKnight succumbed to the pressure of providing his own definitive answer to which narrative is most useful. The criterion he sets for the conversation greatly privilege the penal substitution theory of atonement, and ultimately serves to destroy the collegial tone McKnight sets out at the beginning. If he had left out Part III of the book and had an actual conclusion to the whole work he would have been much better off.
As it is, A Community Called Atonement is a book that had tons of potential but never fully realized it. Perhaps it reflects the ultimate fate of the whole Emerging Church phenomenon: lots of great potential but no one is ever really able to see it through? And is this necessarily such a bad thing? For its many flaws, McKnight’s book serves as great fodder for discussion and debate over the place of atonement in the future of the church.
The first area of this missional praxis McKnight explores is Fellowship. Being a Reformed theologian, he grounds this understanding of fellowship in God’s life in Trinity. The Trinity exists is perichoresis: an equal, mutually beneficial relationship with one another where no member dominates another. While each member of the Trinity is interdependent with one another, they each have a strong sense of self-identity within the relationship. McKnight takes the Trinitarian life as the model for the human community. In this way the life of the human community can be atoning because it reflects the life of the divine community.
Justice is the next area of missional praxis. McKnight is careful to define justice as God’s standard for human behavior instead of by what he sees as secular theories of justice that are not rooted in an understanding of God. McKnight spends most of this chapter discussing what he believes is God’s standard for humanity as revealed in the Bible, specifically in passages from Isaiah, Jeremiah, the Minor Prophets, Matthew, Acts, and Ephesians. McKnight understands justice in the human community as restoring “cracked Eikons” (imperfect bearers of God’s image) to more accurately reflect their created purpose.
Mission itself is an area of missional praxis. McKnight talks about this by contrasting what he calls “missional” and “attractional” ecclesiologies (theologies of church). An attractional ecclesiology is designed to get as many people in the door as possible in hopes of saving the greatest number of souls. The end result is the church being a large, complex organization. A missional ecclesiology, on the other hand, is one where the church seeks to minimize itself and seeks to equip its members to live missional lives. McKnight defines a missional ecclesiology as the church existing for the world. This missional focus is evangelistic because it seeks to show the self emptying love of God in every action.
Another aspect of practicing atonement as missional praxis is living out the story of the Word. McKnight is suggesting that Scripture itself plays an atoning role in the life of the community. He contrasts his vision of Scripture’s role in communal life against Bibliodolatry: giving the Bible itself a place coequal to (or even above) God. He rightly points out that the Bible is a book produced by the church (sorry, but the King James version did not float down from Heaven) and neither can exist apart from the other. Scripture does not exist to be probed for secrets and codes, but to shape the lives of individuals and communities and direct them to having a missional focus.
The practices of baptism, Eucharist, and prayer also play into the concept of atonement as missional praxis. Baptism is symbolic of purification from Sin and incorporation into the life of the community, and therefore embodies atonement. Similarly, the Eucharist is the sign of our continuing incorporation into the Body of Christ and our missional calling as part of that body. The Eucharistic prayers recall the death and Resurrection of Jesus- the central narrative of atonement. Likewise, prayer is a continual reminder of this incorporation because we are privileged to have direct communication with God, which would not be possible without atonement.
With these reflections McKnight ends the book rather abruptly. There is no proper conclusion, formal or informal. This is rather appropriate because while I found the premise of this book very exciting and certain parts extremely satisfying, ultimately I found that the project never really came to fruition. Instead of letting the merits of each atonement story stand on their own and interact with one another freely, McKnight succumbed to the pressure of providing his own definitive answer to which narrative is most useful. The criterion he sets for the conversation greatly privilege the penal substitution theory of atonement, and ultimately serves to destroy the collegial tone McKnight sets out at the beginning. If he had left out Part III of the book and had an actual conclusion to the whole work he would have been much better off.
As it is, A Community Called Atonement is a book that had tons of potential but never fully realized it. Perhaps it reflects the ultimate fate of the whole Emerging Church phenomenon: lots of great potential but no one is ever really able to see it through? And is this necessarily such a bad thing? For its many flaws, McKnight’s book serves as great fodder for discussion and debate over the place of atonement in the future of the church.
Friday, November 16, 2007
A Community Called Atonement- part 4
In the next section McKnight concludes the theological portion of his study by saying which atonement story/stories are most suitable for the twenty-first century church. He picks up the image he used at the beginning of the book: each atonement theory is an individual golf club, and that different “shots” (situations, contexts, etc.) are required to adequately play the game. Now McKnight is suggesting a “bag” in which all the clubs can fit. In doing so McKnight lays his Reformed theology cards on the table quite clearly. I’ll do my best to lay out McKnight’s arguments first and save most of my commentary for the end.
McKnight raises the interesting question of what Jesus thought about his own death. He rightly points out that nowhere in the Gospels do we see Jesus interpreting his death in the same language used by Paul and later New Testament writers. (This is assuming, of course, that all the words attributed to Jesus in the Gospels are genuinely his and not those of the gospel writers themselves. In other words, perhaps the understandings of Jesus’ death in the gospels are more adequately seen as those of the evangelists and not of Jesus himself.)
McKnight suggests that because Jesus chose to die during the Passover celebration (he assumes Jesus chose the time of his death) instead of during Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, we should view his death in light of liberation as well as atonement. As the Hebrew slaves painted their doorframes with lambs’ blood to avoid God’s wrath and was the final act before their liberation from slavery, so Jesus’ atoning death protects us from God’s wrath against Sin and liberates us from slavery to Sin and death.
McKnight also suggests that we consider atonement in light of what he calls “Paul’s Story: The Courtroom of God” (claiming to draw from the “New Perspective” on Paul articulated by EP Sanders, James Dunn, and NT Wright). Most of us are familiar with this basic juridical metaphor: we are judged guilty by God, but Jesus trades his innocence for our guilt, thereby making us justified before God. McKnight argues that the message of the Reformers has been overly individualized and that we also need to understand the communal dimension of justification by faith and not works.
What McKnight suggests as the “bag” in which we can carry all of our atonement theory “clubs” is the Recapitulation Theory of the early theologians Irenaeus and Athanasius. McKnight says that Recapitulation is the common thread among all the subsequent atonement theories. Recapitulation takes the idea of Jesus as the “new Adam” and sees the entire Christ-event as a cosmic do-over for humanity. Adam and Jesus were both created perfect, free of original Sin (a concept that was not fully developed by the time of Irenaeus and Athanasius- that came a few centuries later with Augustine). Adam screwed up pretty quickly and brought Sin into the world. Jesus did it right and broke the power of Sin by paying the price that only one who was untainted by Sin could not pay.
McKnight concludes by saying that all the major atonement theory “clubs” can fit and coexist more or less comfortably in the Recapitulation “bag”. Ransom theory, satisfaction, substitution, representation, and penal substitution (McKnight’s list, not mine) all fit in quite nicely. As for Abelard’s Moral Influence theory, McKnight questions whether it can adequately function as a true atonement theory because it involves no actual transaction taking place.
OK, time for my take on this. I find McKnight’s conclusions lacking in several ways. Thus far he has claimed not to privilege one atonement theory over another and to put them all into dialogue. However, once McKnight sets the ground rules for what the dialogue will be, the rules are such that certain atonement theories, namely penal substitution, are greatly privileged over others. In fact, other atonement theories seem to be included in the bag insofar as they fit into the scheme where penal substitution serves as a “first among equals”. This is most evident when the question of Abelard is raised. McKnight judges Abelard’s theory to be functionally insufficient because it involves no actual transaction or “transmutation of righteousness” (as Luther’s concept of “Alien Righteousness” defines it). But we have to ask why any actual transaction must take place at all. This ground rule necessitating some kind of transaction assumes that there is something necessarily lacking about the human condition and that some kind of payment is necessary to rectify this lack. Hence penal substitution is privileged over all other theories.
McKnight is clearly showing himself as a Reformed theologian here because his theological anthropology is clearly rooted in the Augustinian concept of Original Sin, and carried forward in the concept of Total Depravity defined by the Synod of Dort (from whence we get the TULIP of Five Point Calvinism).
McKnight argument is legitimate insofar as one comes to the table with the same set of assumptions that he does. If one comes with a different theological anthropology, a different understanding of Sin, a different view of the nature/sovereignty of God, a different understanding of the Bible, etc., then one is not on equal footing because McKnight has defined the rules of the conversation.
The fact that McKnight sets the rules of the conversation is not problematic in and of itself. He wrote the book, after all, and any writer by definition sets the rules of the conversation in their work. The problem I see here is that these rules are largely implicit and undefined. McKnight never comes out and says, “I’m a Reformed theologian, so here’s what I assume about God, Jesus, Sin, the authority of Scripture, etc.” If those assumptions were laid out as clearly and succinctly as possible, then the playing field is leveled considerably because the reader has the chance to asses their own position and understand the similarities and differences they have with McKnight. As it is the assumptions are unstated, forcing the reader to figure them out as they go along, or simply accepting these unstated assumptions and ultimately agreeing with McKnight’s conclusions because the rules of the conversation allow no other outcome.
This leads to my larger complaint about most attempts at ecumenical dialogue. There is little to no discussion of our basic assumptions that we bring to the table, what theologians call prolegomena. I think we have to have a fairly strong sense of what our own assumptions are and be able to state them succinctly before we attempt any kind of theological dialogue. Otherwise we’ll each be playing our own individual theological language games and talking at one another instead of talking with one another.
I’ve leveled a pretty strong critique at McKnight in this section. Is my criticism fair? Does it go too far? Am I operating on some unquestioned assumptions that I haven’t adequately expressed?
Discuss…
McKnight raises the interesting question of what Jesus thought about his own death. He rightly points out that nowhere in the Gospels do we see Jesus interpreting his death in the same language used by Paul and later New Testament writers. (This is assuming, of course, that all the words attributed to Jesus in the Gospels are genuinely his and not those of the gospel writers themselves. In other words, perhaps the understandings of Jesus’ death in the gospels are more adequately seen as those of the evangelists and not of Jesus himself.)
McKnight suggests that because Jesus chose to die during the Passover celebration (he assumes Jesus chose the time of his death) instead of during Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, we should view his death in light of liberation as well as atonement. As the Hebrew slaves painted their doorframes with lambs’ blood to avoid God’s wrath and was the final act before their liberation from slavery, so Jesus’ atoning death protects us from God’s wrath against Sin and liberates us from slavery to Sin and death.
McKnight also suggests that we consider atonement in light of what he calls “Paul’s Story: The Courtroom of God” (claiming to draw from the “New Perspective” on Paul articulated by EP Sanders, James Dunn, and NT Wright). Most of us are familiar with this basic juridical metaphor: we are judged guilty by God, but Jesus trades his innocence for our guilt, thereby making us justified before God. McKnight argues that the message of the Reformers has been overly individualized and that we also need to understand the communal dimension of justification by faith and not works.
What McKnight suggests as the “bag” in which we can carry all of our atonement theory “clubs” is the Recapitulation Theory of the early theologians Irenaeus and Athanasius. McKnight says that Recapitulation is the common thread among all the subsequent atonement theories. Recapitulation takes the idea of Jesus as the “new Adam” and sees the entire Christ-event as a cosmic do-over for humanity. Adam and Jesus were both created perfect, free of original Sin (a concept that was not fully developed by the time of Irenaeus and Athanasius- that came a few centuries later with Augustine). Adam screwed up pretty quickly and brought Sin into the world. Jesus did it right and broke the power of Sin by paying the price that only one who was untainted by Sin could not pay.
McKnight concludes by saying that all the major atonement theory “clubs” can fit and coexist more or less comfortably in the Recapitulation “bag”. Ransom theory, satisfaction, substitution, representation, and penal substitution (McKnight’s list, not mine) all fit in quite nicely. As for Abelard’s Moral Influence theory, McKnight questions whether it can adequately function as a true atonement theory because it involves no actual transaction taking place.
OK, time for my take on this. I find McKnight’s conclusions lacking in several ways. Thus far he has claimed not to privilege one atonement theory over another and to put them all into dialogue. However, once McKnight sets the ground rules for what the dialogue will be, the rules are such that certain atonement theories, namely penal substitution, are greatly privileged over others. In fact, other atonement theories seem to be included in the bag insofar as they fit into the scheme where penal substitution serves as a “first among equals”. This is most evident when the question of Abelard is raised. McKnight judges Abelard’s theory to be functionally insufficient because it involves no actual transaction or “transmutation of righteousness” (as Luther’s concept of “Alien Righteousness” defines it). But we have to ask why any actual transaction must take place at all. This ground rule necessitating some kind of transaction assumes that there is something necessarily lacking about the human condition and that some kind of payment is necessary to rectify this lack. Hence penal substitution is privileged over all other theories.
McKnight is clearly showing himself as a Reformed theologian here because his theological anthropology is clearly rooted in the Augustinian concept of Original Sin, and carried forward in the concept of Total Depravity defined by the Synod of Dort (from whence we get the TULIP of Five Point Calvinism).
McKnight argument is legitimate insofar as one comes to the table with the same set of assumptions that he does. If one comes with a different theological anthropology, a different understanding of Sin, a different view of the nature/sovereignty of God, a different understanding of the Bible, etc., then one is not on equal footing because McKnight has defined the rules of the conversation.
The fact that McKnight sets the rules of the conversation is not problematic in and of itself. He wrote the book, after all, and any writer by definition sets the rules of the conversation in their work. The problem I see here is that these rules are largely implicit and undefined. McKnight never comes out and says, “I’m a Reformed theologian, so here’s what I assume about God, Jesus, Sin, the authority of Scripture, etc.” If those assumptions were laid out as clearly and succinctly as possible, then the playing field is leveled considerably because the reader has the chance to asses their own position and understand the similarities and differences they have with McKnight. As it is the assumptions are unstated, forcing the reader to figure them out as they go along, or simply accepting these unstated assumptions and ultimately agreeing with McKnight’s conclusions because the rules of the conversation allow no other outcome.
This leads to my larger complaint about most attempts at ecumenical dialogue. There is little to no discussion of our basic assumptions that we bring to the table, what theologians call prolegomena. I think we have to have a fairly strong sense of what our own assumptions are and be able to state them succinctly before we attempt any kind of theological dialogue. Otherwise we’ll each be playing our own individual theological language games and talking at one another instead of talking with one another.
I’ve leveled a pretty strong critique at McKnight in this section. Is my criticism fair? Does it go too far? Am I operating on some unquestioned assumptions that I haven’t adequately expressed?
Discuss…
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
A Community Called Atonement- part 3
In the first section of the book McKnight argued quite persuasively that to adequately speak about atonement a plurality of metaphors had to be used, since each of those metaphors points to a reality larger than what they actually encompass. In the next section McKnight continues this strand by pointing out a plurality of atoning moments in the life of Christ. But first McKnight engages in a brief excuses on the nature of metaphorical dialogue itself.
McKnight says that “metaphor” can be understood as “possibility”. The subject points to the possibility of a reality that is far beyond the thing itself. Metaphors help expand our imaginations to consider new realms of possibility that cannot be adequately captured by words alone. Seeing metaphor in terms of possibility helps us see the relation of the symbol and the thing itself in terms of indwelling: the eternal reality actually indwells the symbol that points to it. In this way McKnight demonstrates that the symbol, while not being the thing itself (that would be idolatry), nevertheless participates in the reality of that to which it points.
McKnight applies this concept to atonement theory by discussing the critiques of penal substitution, which is the favorite atonement theory of most evangelicals. Many feminist theologians have been critical of the penal substation theory because it idealizes victims (the “silent suffering” of Christ) and justifies oppression and discourage the oppressed from trying to better their situation. McKnight says that while such critiques are valid and point out the potential for abuse inherent in any metaphor, we should not throw the baby out with the bath-water. If we have a more nuanced view of penal substitution as a metaphor, instead of as an actual blood-contract between humanity and God, the potential for abuse is more adequately mitigated, and dialogue between the different metaphors can actually occur.
Further, McKnight argues that since our metaphors are so thoroughly conditioned by our context, and therefore limited in their universal applicability, we need to exercise great care in imposing our metaphors (and thus our contextual reality) upon others. A great degree of humility is required to realize that our metaphors cannot contain the ultimate reality of God’s salvation, and that Truth is not something we can ourselves posses. These things are God’s and God’s alone. This lack of humility is a major cause of the trouble in which the Western church finds itself after the collapse of Christendom.
McKnight begins his discussion of atoning moments at the most obvious place: the cross. The event of the crucifixion is the sole focus of most atonement theories, but McKnight raises the question: Crux Sola? Is atonement only to be found in the cross? Atonement is certainly found powerfully in the cross, perhaps most powerfully because of the striking nature of the image of crucifixion. He also mentions Luther’s “Theology of the Cross” in which Luther speaks movingly of the cross being the ultimate meeting of God and humanity because of the intensity of Christ’s suffering. Jesus was at his most human on the cross because here he experienced the fullness of our pain: physically, emotionally, and spiritually. The power of this atoning moment, however, does not strip other moments in the life of Christ of their atoning power.
McKnight brings a bit of Eastern theology in by asserting that the Incarnation is an atoning moment as well. In the incarnation God shows how much he loves us by becoming one of us. God experiences all of the things that humans experience: joy, laughter, love, fear, temptation, hunger, thirst, exhaustion, loneliness, sadness, pain, and death. But Jesus is more than just your average human being. He is the perfect Eikon- fully embodying the image of God in humanity. Whereas we are cracked and broken Eikons, Jesus shows the fullness of human potential. It would not have been possible for God to have become human had humanity not already been created in the image of God. As much as we have done to fracture that original perfect relationship with God, it cannot be fully broken because we remain, at our core, God’s image bearers.
McKnight also sees Easter and Pentecost as atoning moments. Pentecost is important because the Holy Spirit was poured out on the Apostles and the church was born, signifying the New Covenant in Christ. Although McKnight doesn’t say it explicitly, seeing Pentecost as an atoning moment enables us to see events in our own lives and the lives of our faith communities as atoning. The Holy Spirit still moves among us, reminding us of God’s continual call upon us.
I believe it is incredibly important to see Easter as an atoning moment. Just as Easter has no meaning without Good Friday, the crucifixion has no meaning without the Resurrection. When we focus solely on the suffering of Christ on Good Friday and pay only mere lip service to the Resurrection on Easter Sunday (Mel Gibson, I’m looking in your direction), then we imply that suffering itself is redemptive. Suffering is not redemptive in and of itself. The endurance of suffering is only possible because of the hope of the Resurrection. We endure the trials of life because we know that suffering will end, all tears will be dried, death will be no more, and all wrongs will be righted. Just as death is not the end of existence, the cross is not the endpoint of our faith. The cross points to the Resurrection and gives us hope for the future.
Reflections: If McKnight’s basis thesis is true and our communities truly can live out atonement and actualize the Kingdom of God in the world, then we have to be willing to see atoning moments throughout our communal lives. To begin to see the different ways our experiences can be atoning, a good place to start is to see how different moments in the life of Christ are atoning. McKnight is making a solid case here, and I’m anxious to see how he carries it forward into modern ecclesial contexts.
McKnight says that “metaphor” can be understood as “possibility”. The subject points to the possibility of a reality that is far beyond the thing itself. Metaphors help expand our imaginations to consider new realms of possibility that cannot be adequately captured by words alone. Seeing metaphor in terms of possibility helps us see the relation of the symbol and the thing itself in terms of indwelling: the eternal reality actually indwells the symbol that points to it. In this way McKnight demonstrates that the symbol, while not being the thing itself (that would be idolatry), nevertheless participates in the reality of that to which it points.
McKnight applies this concept to atonement theory by discussing the critiques of penal substitution, which is the favorite atonement theory of most evangelicals. Many feminist theologians have been critical of the penal substation theory because it idealizes victims (the “silent suffering” of Christ) and justifies oppression and discourage the oppressed from trying to better their situation. McKnight says that while such critiques are valid and point out the potential for abuse inherent in any metaphor, we should not throw the baby out with the bath-water. If we have a more nuanced view of penal substitution as a metaphor, instead of as an actual blood-contract between humanity and God, the potential for abuse is more adequately mitigated, and dialogue between the different metaphors can actually occur.
Further, McKnight argues that since our metaphors are so thoroughly conditioned by our context, and therefore limited in their universal applicability, we need to exercise great care in imposing our metaphors (and thus our contextual reality) upon others. A great degree of humility is required to realize that our metaphors cannot contain the ultimate reality of God’s salvation, and that Truth is not something we can ourselves posses. These things are God’s and God’s alone. This lack of humility is a major cause of the trouble in which the Western church finds itself after the collapse of Christendom.
McKnight begins his discussion of atoning moments at the most obvious place: the cross. The event of the crucifixion is the sole focus of most atonement theories, but McKnight raises the question: Crux Sola? Is atonement only to be found in the cross? Atonement is certainly found powerfully in the cross, perhaps most powerfully because of the striking nature of the image of crucifixion. He also mentions Luther’s “Theology of the Cross” in which Luther speaks movingly of the cross being the ultimate meeting of God and humanity because of the intensity of Christ’s suffering. Jesus was at his most human on the cross because here he experienced the fullness of our pain: physically, emotionally, and spiritually. The power of this atoning moment, however, does not strip other moments in the life of Christ of their atoning power.
McKnight brings a bit of Eastern theology in by asserting that the Incarnation is an atoning moment as well. In the incarnation God shows how much he loves us by becoming one of us. God experiences all of the things that humans experience: joy, laughter, love, fear, temptation, hunger, thirst, exhaustion, loneliness, sadness, pain, and death. But Jesus is more than just your average human being. He is the perfect Eikon- fully embodying the image of God in humanity. Whereas we are cracked and broken Eikons, Jesus shows the fullness of human potential. It would not have been possible for God to have become human had humanity not already been created in the image of God. As much as we have done to fracture that original perfect relationship with God, it cannot be fully broken because we remain, at our core, God’s image bearers.
McKnight also sees Easter and Pentecost as atoning moments. Pentecost is important because the Holy Spirit was poured out on the Apostles and the church was born, signifying the New Covenant in Christ. Although McKnight doesn’t say it explicitly, seeing Pentecost as an atoning moment enables us to see events in our own lives and the lives of our faith communities as atoning. The Holy Spirit still moves among us, reminding us of God’s continual call upon us.
I believe it is incredibly important to see Easter as an atoning moment. Just as Easter has no meaning without Good Friday, the crucifixion has no meaning without the Resurrection. When we focus solely on the suffering of Christ on Good Friday and pay only mere lip service to the Resurrection on Easter Sunday (Mel Gibson, I’m looking in your direction), then we imply that suffering itself is redemptive. Suffering is not redemptive in and of itself. The endurance of suffering is only possible because of the hope of the Resurrection. We endure the trials of life because we know that suffering will end, all tears will be dried, death will be no more, and all wrongs will be righted. Just as death is not the end of existence, the cross is not the endpoint of our faith. The cross points to the Resurrection and gives us hope for the future.
Reflections: If McKnight’s basis thesis is true and our communities truly can live out atonement and actualize the Kingdom of God in the world, then we have to be willing to see atoning moments throughout our communal lives. To begin to see the different ways our experiences can be atoning, a good place to start is to see how different moments in the life of Christ are atoning. McKnight is making a solid case here, and I’m anxious to see how he carries it forward into modern ecclesial contexts.
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Friday, November 02, 2007
A Community Called Atonement- Part 2
Hey everyone. Sorry I haven't posted in so long. It turns out this "Full Time Senior Pastor" thing cuts into blogging time. Who knew?
Picking up where we left off last time, McKnight begins Part 1 of the book by asserting again that when he uses the word atonement he is talking about far more than soteriology (how salvation works), but instead about our understanding of the Kingdom of God itself. That is, McKnight is talking about how we understand the Christian faith itself.
Since atonement theories point to a larger reality than that which they can encompass, therefore being ultimately inadequate to provide a full understanding of the subject in and of themselves, we have to use a plurality of metaphors when talking about atonement. If I may overlay Paul Tillich on McKnight’s text for a moment (something which I think McKnight would not mind terribly), a metaphor is another way of saying “symbolic language”. A symbol participates in the reality of that to which it points, but is not the thing itself. So if we were to absolutize only one atonement theory/metaphor/symbol we would be absolutizing something that is far less than absolute reality, i.e. God. The Bible calls this idolatry, which is a pretty major sin, so McKnight is right on in his insistence on using a plurality of metaphors to talk about atonement.
While McKnight’s list of starting points for talking about atonement is certainly not the end-all be-all list of possibilities (and I don’t see him implying that it is), his list is fairly comprehensive and each item merits some discussion.
Jesus: This may seem like a giant no-brainer, but most discussion of atonement begins with a definition of Sin, only then proceeding to Jesus. McKnight contends that Christian theology must begin with Christ. I tend to see theology as a circular undertaking, where our stance on every issue affects every other issue; hence there is no single starting point. Still, starting with Jesus is probably as good a place as any. McKnight takes Luke’s Jesus (let’s be clear- each gospel writer has his own distinct Jesus) and highlights the constant theme of reversal in Luke’s gospel: the last will be first, etc. This theme of reversal continues through Acts, of course, with the Gentiles inheriting the Kingdom that was supposed to be just for Israel. In a world where the divide between haves and have-nots is greater than ever, Luke’s Jesus has a special significance if we’re trying to articulate a relevant Christianity to that world.
God, Eikons, and Sin: For McKnight, these three things are the chronological beginning of the narrative. Theologians call this theological anthropology: how we understand humanity in relationship to God. Long story short, the loving God created us in God’s image (Eikons) and we quickly brought Sin into the picture and screwed up the imago Dei (Latin for the image of God). McKnight understands Sin as “hyper-relational”: breaking many strands in the complex web of relationships between God, the creation, individuals, families, communities, etc. It is this brokenness, estrangement, marred image, and separation that creates the basic problem that Jesus came to deal with. In Jesus, all of this brokenness is made “at one” again: atonement.
Eternity, Ecclesial Community, and Praxis: If Sin is hyper-relational, dealing with a complex web of relationships, than the cure is going to be complex and intertwined as well. It’s so complex as to literally have no beginning or end: hence the term eternity. McKnight employs the image of Ecclesial Community for much the same reason. Atonement is not simply the reconciliation of individual souls to God. It is also the reconciliation of our communal lives to God (Social Gospel, anyone?), and of ourselves to one another. How does this all work? That is the realm of Praxis: the intersection of theory (theology) and practice. Living out these nice, clean abstractions in the messy realities of everyday life is the tough part, and it’s a never-ending (eternal) conversation as to how this whole Christianity thing actually works.
Reflections: I like the ground McKnight has covered thus far. He genuinely seems committed to ecumenical dialogue without letting one particular voice dominate the conversation. I am trying to figure out what particular theological tradition McKnight hails from. My hunch is some branch of the Reformed/Calvinist tradition, but I’m not sure yet. Anybody have any thoughts or insights on this question or anything else I’ve brought up here?
Discuss…
Picking up where we left off last time, McKnight begins Part 1 of the book by asserting again that when he uses the word atonement he is talking about far more than soteriology (how salvation works), but instead about our understanding of the Kingdom of God itself. That is, McKnight is talking about how we understand the Christian faith itself.
Since atonement theories point to a larger reality than that which they can encompass, therefore being ultimately inadequate to provide a full understanding of the subject in and of themselves, we have to use a plurality of metaphors when talking about atonement. If I may overlay Paul Tillich on McKnight’s text for a moment (something which I think McKnight would not mind terribly), a metaphor is another way of saying “symbolic language”. A symbol participates in the reality of that to which it points, but is not the thing itself. So if we were to absolutize only one atonement theory/metaphor/symbol we would be absolutizing something that is far less than absolute reality, i.e. God. The Bible calls this idolatry, which is a pretty major sin, so McKnight is right on in his insistence on using a plurality of metaphors to talk about atonement.
While McKnight’s list of starting points for talking about atonement is certainly not the end-all be-all list of possibilities (and I don’t see him implying that it is), his list is fairly comprehensive and each item merits some discussion.
Jesus: This may seem like a giant no-brainer, but most discussion of atonement begins with a definition of Sin, only then proceeding to Jesus. McKnight contends that Christian theology must begin with Christ. I tend to see theology as a circular undertaking, where our stance on every issue affects every other issue; hence there is no single starting point. Still, starting with Jesus is probably as good a place as any. McKnight takes Luke’s Jesus (let’s be clear- each gospel writer has his own distinct Jesus) and highlights the constant theme of reversal in Luke’s gospel: the last will be first, etc. This theme of reversal continues through Acts, of course, with the Gentiles inheriting the Kingdom that was supposed to be just for Israel. In a world where the divide between haves and have-nots is greater than ever, Luke’s Jesus has a special significance if we’re trying to articulate a relevant Christianity to that world.
God, Eikons, and Sin: For McKnight, these three things are the chronological beginning of the narrative. Theologians call this theological anthropology: how we understand humanity in relationship to God. Long story short, the loving God created us in God’s image (Eikons) and we quickly brought Sin into the picture and screwed up the imago Dei (Latin for the image of God). McKnight understands Sin as “hyper-relational”: breaking many strands in the complex web of relationships between God, the creation, individuals, families, communities, etc. It is this brokenness, estrangement, marred image, and separation that creates the basic problem that Jesus came to deal with. In Jesus, all of this brokenness is made “at one” again: atonement.
Eternity, Ecclesial Community, and Praxis: If Sin is hyper-relational, dealing with a complex web of relationships, than the cure is going to be complex and intertwined as well. It’s so complex as to literally have no beginning or end: hence the term eternity. McKnight employs the image of Ecclesial Community for much the same reason. Atonement is not simply the reconciliation of individual souls to God. It is also the reconciliation of our communal lives to God (Social Gospel, anyone?), and of ourselves to one another. How does this all work? That is the realm of Praxis: the intersection of theory (theology) and practice. Living out these nice, clean abstractions in the messy realities of everyday life is the tough part, and it’s a never-ending (eternal) conversation as to how this whole Christianity thing actually works.
Reflections: I like the ground McKnight has covered thus far. He genuinely seems committed to ecumenical dialogue without letting one particular voice dominate the conversation. I am trying to figure out what particular theological tradition McKnight hails from. My hunch is some branch of the Reformed/Calvinist tradition, but I’m not sure yet. Anybody have any thoughts or insights on this question or anything else I’ve brought up here?
Discuss…
Friday, September 14, 2007
A Community Called Atonement- Part 1
Over the next couple weeks I’ll be reviewing a new book by Scott McKnight called A Community Called Atonement. While I am not being compensated in any way for this review or any endorsement (or lack thereof), I was fortunate enough to be provided an advance copy of the book by my wife, Jessica, who works at Abingdon Press. Those of us in the Nashville Emergent Cohort were asked to comment on several chapters while the book was in production, so these blog posts are an extension of that conversation.
Before I dive into the text itself, a few preliminary comments are in order. First of all, the word atonement (click here for a brief introduction to the concept) is itself an extremely loaded term that carries all kinds of baggage, both good and bad, with it. Atonement itself is an English word, and literally means “at one-ment”; literally, how we are made at one with God. The very fact that it is an English word makes its theological usefulness debatable because it has no direct translation into other languages. In a seminary class on Paul’s letter to the Romans, we asked the professor, who is French, how the tradition he grew up in deals with atonement theories. He responded, “Well, we don’t believe in atonement.”
Just because the word atonement is English, however, does not mean it is not worth discussing. The concept is certainly older than the sixteenth century origin of the particular word. When Christians talk about atonement it is usually in reference to how the death of Jesus works in the process of salvation. There are any number of different “atonement theories”, depending on whose list you look at, and I’m sure I’ll be referencing what I consider to be the three primary atonement theories (Christus Victor, Substitutionary Atonement, and Moral Influence) in these posts.
What Scott McKnight wants to do in this book is to push our understanding of atonement past a mere explanation of the function of Jesus’ death into a way that we talk about the substance of the Christian life. In fact, on the back cover McKnight poses the question, “Can atonement be a way of life?” From a cursory glance at the book it seems that McKnight wants to talk about atonement as a summation of the whole gospel, and that the interaction of different understandings of atonement all have something to say about the way Christians go about proclaiming the gospel in the world in both word and deed.
In light of the baggage the word atonement carries with it, this seems an ambitious undertaking, but one that Scott McKnight is well suited for. Stay tuned for my summations and assessment of his arguments, and please comment if you agree or (especially if) you disagree with my reflections.
Before I dive into the text itself, a few preliminary comments are in order. First of all, the word atonement (click here for a brief introduction to the concept) is itself an extremely loaded term that carries all kinds of baggage, both good and bad, with it. Atonement itself is an English word, and literally means “at one-ment”; literally, how we are made at one with God. The very fact that it is an English word makes its theological usefulness debatable because it has no direct translation into other languages. In a seminary class on Paul’s letter to the Romans, we asked the professor, who is French, how the tradition he grew up in deals with atonement theories. He responded, “Well, we don’t believe in atonement.”
Just because the word atonement is English, however, does not mean it is not worth discussing. The concept is certainly older than the sixteenth century origin of the particular word. When Christians talk about atonement it is usually in reference to how the death of Jesus works in the process of salvation. There are any number of different “atonement theories”, depending on whose list you look at, and I’m sure I’ll be referencing what I consider to be the three primary atonement theories (Christus Victor, Substitutionary Atonement, and Moral Influence) in these posts.
What Scott McKnight wants to do in this book is to push our understanding of atonement past a mere explanation of the function of Jesus’ death into a way that we talk about the substance of the Christian life. In fact, on the back cover McKnight poses the question, “Can atonement be a way of life?” From a cursory glance at the book it seems that McKnight wants to talk about atonement as a summation of the whole gospel, and that the interaction of different understandings of atonement all have something to say about the way Christians go about proclaiming the gospel in the world in both word and deed.
In light of the baggage the word atonement carries with it, this seems an ambitious undertaking, but one that Scott McKnight is well suited for. Stay tuned for my summations and assessment of his arguments, and please comment if you agree or (especially if) you disagree with my reflections.
Friday, September 07, 2007
The Myth of the Good Old Days
I don’t believe in “the Good Old Days”. You hear about them all the time. Someone will say something like, “Things were so much better when (fill in the blank). But now people (fill in the blank). So if we just (fill in the blank) things would be so much better than they are now.” This will get large cheers from a crowd and may even inspire donations to a church or political campaign. This is an especially favored rhetorical technique for preachers because it’s easy. We point to one particular thing and give a guarantee that if the people will just think and/or do what we say, things will return to the way they were in the “good old days”.
There are a couple problems with this. First of all, things were never as good as we remember them. There’s a popular joke in the United Methodist Church recalling a bishop who exclaimed “if the 1950s ever return, we’ll be ready!” I didn’t live through the 1950s, but my parents did. They tell me that there was drug use, teen pregnancy, divorce, homosexuality, and political corruption back then. It wasn’t as much as now, and it certainly wasn’t talked about as much back then, but it was there. My mother grew up in Memphis where Jim Crow laws were going strong in the 1950s, and she remembers “Whites only” water fountains, bathrooms, and swimming pools. We don’t have those today (even though racism is still alive and well), and I’d say that’s a decided improvement over “the good old days”.
The bigger problem, however, with the myth of the good old days is that it assumes that there is a system, a belief, or an institutional structure that transcends time, geography, cultural context, and even the type of people running the show.
This is the main problem in a new book that is currently all the rage in many United Methodist circles. In Restoring Methodism, James and Molly Scott argue that such a “good old days” existed in the early days of the Methodist movement in America (the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, or the generations that experienced the American Revolution). They say that certain decisions that were made by the church during the twentieth century have been responsible for the current decline we are experiencing, and suggest ten changes that would return us to an earlier time and would, they claim, stop the losses.
I certainly agree that the church made mistakes during the twentieth century, but we made plenty of errors in previous centuries, too. The various incarnations of the church of Jesus Christ have been screwing up in large and small ways since day one! And I also agree that we can learn a lot from the successes of the past and that those successes can and definately should challenge our thinking about the way we do church today.
But what I have to take issue with is the idea that there was ever some state of pristine Methodism that transcended the context in which it found itself. The 1950s are never going to return, and the eighteenth century colonial frontier isn’t either. It’s the twenty-first century and we need to deal with it as it is. Each generation faces challenges that are its own, and simply replicating the ways church has been done before is as bad (if not worse) an idea than changing everything for the sake of changing it.
What if, instead of longing for a return to the “good old days”, we took an honest look at what the past was like and how that is similar and different to where we find ourselves today? What if we put together a companion volume to Restoring Methodism called For God’s Sake, Don’t Do This Again: Ways the Church Universal has Screwed Up Throughout History and how to Avoid Doing it Again? What if we chose to dream about what the future could be, and not just scheme about how to bring the past back to life?
Admittedly this idea requires a whole lot more time, effort, and work than simply following someone’s ten step plan. But doing so would give us the chance to make some “good new days”. The best might just be yet to come…
There are a couple problems with this. First of all, things were never as good as we remember them. There’s a popular joke in the United Methodist Church recalling a bishop who exclaimed “if the 1950s ever return, we’ll be ready!” I didn’t live through the 1950s, but my parents did. They tell me that there was drug use, teen pregnancy, divorce, homosexuality, and political corruption back then. It wasn’t as much as now, and it certainly wasn’t talked about as much back then, but it was there. My mother grew up in Memphis where Jim Crow laws were going strong in the 1950s, and she remembers “Whites only” water fountains, bathrooms, and swimming pools. We don’t have those today (even though racism is still alive and well), and I’d say that’s a decided improvement over “the good old days”.
The bigger problem, however, with the myth of the good old days is that it assumes that there is a system, a belief, or an institutional structure that transcends time, geography, cultural context, and even the type of people running the show.
This is the main problem in a new book that is currently all the rage in many United Methodist circles. In Restoring Methodism, James and Molly Scott argue that such a “good old days” existed in the early days of the Methodist movement in America (the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, or the generations that experienced the American Revolution). They say that certain decisions that were made by the church during the twentieth century have been responsible for the current decline we are experiencing, and suggest ten changes that would return us to an earlier time and would, they claim, stop the losses.
I certainly agree that the church made mistakes during the twentieth century, but we made plenty of errors in previous centuries, too. The various incarnations of the church of Jesus Christ have been screwing up in large and small ways since day one! And I also agree that we can learn a lot from the successes of the past and that those successes can and definately should challenge our thinking about the way we do church today.
But what I have to take issue with is the idea that there was ever some state of pristine Methodism that transcended the context in which it found itself. The 1950s are never going to return, and the eighteenth century colonial frontier isn’t either. It’s the twenty-first century and we need to deal with it as it is. Each generation faces challenges that are its own, and simply replicating the ways church has been done before is as bad (if not worse) an idea than changing everything for the sake of changing it.
What if, instead of longing for a return to the “good old days”, we took an honest look at what the past was like and how that is similar and different to where we find ourselves today? What if we put together a companion volume to Restoring Methodism called For God’s Sake, Don’t Do This Again: Ways the Church Universal has Screwed Up Throughout History and how to Avoid Doing it Again? What if we chose to dream about what the future could be, and not just scheme about how to bring the past back to life?
Admittedly this idea requires a whole lot more time, effort, and work than simply following someone’s ten step plan. But doing so would give us the chance to make some “good new days”. The best might just be yet to come…
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