Why Do We Hate Rupert Murdoch?

I've really never understood the amount of animosity towards media mogul Rupert Murdoch and now that he dealing with the current scandal in the UK over phone hacking, some of these "Rupert haters" are now dancing with glee. The New York Time's Joe Nocera, who usually is an even keeled columnist, is enjoying how the hunter has become the hunted:

Let’s be honest here. There is something undeniably rich about seeing the tables turned like this. When I see photographs of Brooks, or Murdoch, or his son James (who until a few weeks ago was his father’s heir apparent at the News Corporation), sitting in their cars, staring blankly ahead, I can just picture the paparazzi horde jostling to get a decent shot of its prey. Murdoch’s papers have always feasted on scandals like this, picking the bones of their victims. Now Murdoch’s the one whose bones are being picked...

“The schadenfreude is so thick you can’t cut it with a chainsaw,” wrote The Wall Street Journal in an editorial on Monday, defending Rupert Murdoch and the News Corporation. (That’s right. After woefully undercovering the scandal in its news pages, The Journal’s editorial page is now leaping to the defense of its owner. Proving, yet again, that The Journal knows where its bread is buttered.)

Well, yes, the schadenfreude is pretty darn thick. Who would deny it? The whole thing reminds me a little of the ending of Ian McEwan’s wonderful novel “Solar,” in which the many awful things the central character has done in his long life suddenly come together to bury him in an avalanche of comeuppance. I’m O.K. with that.

Nocera then lists the sins of Rupert Murdoch, number being Fox News:

Although I generally admire entrepreneurs who build giant companies, Rupert Murdoch, despite giving us Homer Simpson, generally has not been a force for good over the course of his long career. His Bill O’Reilly-ed, Glenn Beck-ed Fox News has done a great deal to coarsen the political discourse. His tabloids have lowered the standards of journalism on three continents — and routinely broken the law on at least one of them. He had dumbed down his prestige papers, like The Times of London. He has run roughshod over cross-ownership rules meant to prevent one man or company from having too much power — and then used his lobbying might to get those rules diluted. He has put kowtowing to China ahead of freedom of the press, even killing a book set to be published by his HarperCollins unit that the Chinese authorities objected to. He has consistently used his media properties to reward allies and punish enemies. It’s a long list.

While I think it's important to look into the phone hacking mess to find out how far up the corporate chain it went, I think it's a tad premature to tar Murdoch with all of this, as if he order folks to hack into phones.

One of the sins that Nocera mentioned is the advent of Fox News and how it has cheapened the public discourse. I'm not a fan of Fox News, but I have always said it has to right to exist. If people don't like Fox they can just ignore it. Also, its not as if political discourse was some kind of Eden before Fox. Fox News is just a symptom of a greater disease, and if it were to disappear tomorrow, we wouldn't all go back to being nice with each other.

All of this hate and schaudenfruede is a bit much. And frankly, at the end of the day it makes those that enjoy it look somewhat small and petty.

Maybe Murdoch is guilty. Maybe he did know what was going on at News of the World. If so, then he should pay the penalty.

But we don't know all the facts. Instead we want to see someone squirm simply because we don't like them.

I don't think that's right.

Repost: The Old Man and the Queen

This post is from 2008. One note: when this man dies, I will be at his funeral.

And I will cry.

As several denominations struggle with the issue of gay pastors, I am reminded of something that happened to me a few years ago.

I had just graduated from seminary and was doing my CPE at a local nursing home. I was still involved at the church where I was an intern and was asked to serve on the church board. It came to a vote and I was voted in nearly unanimously. I say nearly because one person voted against me. I knew who it was and so did many others. It was an elderly member of the church. He had some idea I was gay and many people assumed that was why he voted against me. After the meeting concluded, he asked me to come with him into another room. He explained that he prayed and studied the scripture on the issue of homosexuality, but his conscience was not swayed in favor. As he said this, he began to cry.

I was and still am touched by this guesture. He did have to speak to me to explain his actions, but he did. He might not approve of who I sleep with, but he did treat me with respect. This wasn't simply about being right for him, but about being loving.

Yeah, I know that his actions were hurtful. Yes, it would have been nice had he voted in favor. But I could respect his decsion even if it was wrong, because he valued me enough to respect me.

Why am I sharing this? I guess because sometimes those of us who fight for justice for GLBT folk tend to paint everyone and anyone who might disagree as evil and backward and not worth listening to. Many pro-gay people think saying anything that is against being gay is hurtful to gays and react strongly to anything that might be hurtful to gays.

But the thing is, there is a difference between words and people that do mean to harm and those that are just not there yet. There are people that truly hate gay people, but not everyone who might have an opinion opposing gay marriage or gay ordination is necessarily a bigot. And the fact is, I'm a big boy-I can handle an old guy.

I truly believe we must work for justice and inclusion in the church. But grace has to be part of the plan. The old man's opposition was tinged with grace and for that reason I could also respond in grace.

I still see the old man-he is now in his late early 80s, but still going strong. We are friendly to each other and he still treats me with the utmost respect and even sees me as Biblical scholar (?). And I love his tenor voice-which is still strong after all these years. I have no idea how he feels about me being gay or having a husband. But I do know that he has taken the command of love very seriously and I will truly weep the day this man leaves the scene. He has taught me about grace; and for that I am ever thankful.

Great, now I'm tearing up...

Graceful Conversation

I think in our day and age, we are losing the act of conversation.  It's kinda odd, in this time when we have so many ways of talking to each other, we really don't talk to each other, at least we don't talk to people who we happen to disagree with.  Instead, we stay in our little circles, unwilling to actually listen to someone who might disagree with us.

It's interesting being a moderately conservative guy in a room full of liberals.  At some point the conversation gets wanders around to someone like Sarah Palin or Michelle Bachmann and everyone takes turns knocking down Republicans.  I start to get a little uncomfortable at all the trash talk.  I have to believe that the same thing goes in conservative circles.  Woe is the lone liberal that has endure that experience.

The sad thing these days is that we really don't know how to listen and talk with each other.  We seem to forget that each person is a child of God and so we hurl invectives at the other camp.  We are so full of righteous indignation that we are blind to loving our enemies.

As Christians, we need to learn to have conversations.  I guess it's kind of ironic that the person who has trouble with conversations is the one bringing it up, but there you go.  Yes, there were times that Jesus got angry, but there were also times that he listened to people.  At times, we have to learn to give up our need to be right, our need to be angry to learn to love the other- especially when we disagree with them.

Presbyterian pastor Janet Edwards wrote a wonderful post on conversation with adversaries, especially when it comes to GLBT issues.  Here's a snippet:

1. Approach the other person as a beloved child of God. See Christ in the eyes of the other person. Set aside every presumption you may have about him or her except that God loves this other, just like God loves you. This is often a mystery for me that our talk with help solve.
2. Trust deeply that the Holy Spirit has a word for you both. Watch carefully for the gift God has for you in your exchange with this other. It probably will not be the same gift for both of you. It will most likely be a still, small voice so you must listen hard for it.
3. Try hard to see things from the other’s point of view. Ask questions like: “This is what I hear you saying, is that correct?” or: “I want to make sure I get what you mean, is this what you said?” My own convictions have been strengthened many times by testing them against the other’s heartfelt words.

I think these words are important, especially for those of us that are gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender. We have to be willing to hear for the Spirit speaking even from those mouths of those we disagree with.

I don't think any of this is easy. But then, no one said following Jesus was easy.

Who's A Feminist?

I know I will probably stir some kettles with this one...

About 15 years ago or so, I remember listening to a call in show on public radio that talked about women's rights.  At one point a caller called in and talked about a friend of hers that was in many ways a strong feminist except that she was pro-life.  The caller asked if this woman would be consider a feminist.  The guest on the program responded: no, she could not be considered a feminist because of her stance on abortion rights.

I remember being rather shocked about that.  I can understand not agreeing with someone on that topic and I can see myself (I am pro-choice, by the way) have some issues.  But I didn't think this one issue should disqualify a woman from being...well, pro-woman.

There's a post up at the Her.menutics blog (one of many blogs from the evangelical magazine, Christianity Today), that talks about "evangelical feminism" in light of the prominence of two women in political ciricles, Michelle Bachmann and Sarah Palin.  Now, I'm not a fan of either woman.  I strongly disagree with Ms. Bachmann's anti-gay views and I agree with former Minnesota governor Tim Pawlenty in that the congresswoman hasn't done much during her time in Congress.  I think Palin does have some smarts, as evidence in this recent Atlantic piece, but I think she decided to play the role of outsider instead of competent governor.  I know it might distrub folks to see these folks as feminists, but in a way, they are.

Before people start throwing tomatoes at me, let me speak.  What I am trying to say here is that both women are very strong, opinionated women who have worked hard to get where they are.   I might totally disagree with their views, but these are not the stereotype of conservative women that hide behind their strong husbands. 

Does that make people especially my liberal feminist friends, uneasy?  Yeah, it probably does.  But then maybe we need to think again about what feminism means.  If it only means being pro-choice, then you have made it the same narrow kind of club that we accuse conservatives of doing.  However, if there is a diversity of ways of being a feminist, then maybe people can come together on issues where they agree to continue to uplift the role of women in society.

Okay, just let me get my umbrella.  Now you can throw your tomatoes at me.

Autism and Sex

I know it might be bad form for a pastor to be sharing an article about how people on the autistic spectrum achieve an orgasm, but since there are a lot of us out there that will find a partner or spouse, it's probably a good idea to share this.  So, read it.

"My Gay Marriage Harms Nobody"

The following piece is something I wrote for the political website FrumForum as a response to another author concerning the passage of same sex marriage in New York State. 

On September 15, 2007, I got married.

It was a pretty normal, run-of-the-mill event — as weddings are. It was held in a small, picturesque Episcopal Church outside of Minneapolis. The sanctuary was decorated with flowers. The families of both parties were there, beaming with excitement. The only thing that might not make this event a typical wedding was that I was getting married to another man: my partner, Daniel.

At that wedding, we pledged to be faithful to each other. Our relationship was blessed by the Episcopal priest and those gathered, including both of our parents. Our wedding (and Daniel was insistent we call it that) was soley religious, since Minnesota doesn’t allow for same-sex marriage. At some level, it didn’t matter that our marriage was not recognized by the state. It was important that we made a committment to one another in front of the gathered community and in front of God.

But a year later, it did matter.

Keep reading...

Photo: Engagement photo of Daniel and myself.

Sermon Podcast: June 19, 2011

June 19, 2011 (Trinity Sunday)
Texts: Matthew 28:16-20 and 2 Corinthians 13:11-13

Click below to hear the sermon.

Sermons @ First Podcast: June 19, 2011

Aspies and Grief

Gavin Bollard has a great post on his blog regarding how persons with Aspergers grieve.  Maybe one of the big things about those of us on the autistic spectrum is that we don't have emotions.  The reality is we do have emotions, but they are expressed very differently than most neurotypicals.

Gavin shares a recent trauma, how it affected him and how others were affected by him:

We all deal with strong emotions, such as love, anger and grief in our own ways. My wife tends to cry things out but I often internalise them and take them on board as stress and at times, self-harmful behaviour. In the kids, these emotions can manifest as meltdowns or as general destructive behaviour. Sometimes there's nothing to see on the surface at all.

The point is that although we each feel these emotions and we feel them at similar strengths, our reactions vary widely both in intensity and visibility...

 

For some reason, our society seems to think that it's okay to quantify emotions based on visible reactions. If an event occurs to two people and the woman is crying while the man is not, then the woman needs the most care and attention because "she's the one who is really hurt". The solution is to talk in a quiet voice and bring lots of cups of tea and chocolates.

The man, by contrast isn't bawling his eyes out, so he's obviously not hurt. There's nothing that you need to do for him. There's no need to tread lightly because "he's not even upset".

In fact, if the event is of an appropriate level, for example the death of a loved one, then anyone not outwardly grieving is "fair game". You can take things out on them and you're more or less expected to say "what's wrong with you man?". The words "you don't care" should also be used in conversation to him.

Sound familiar?

It's something that many neurotypicals do and yet so few realise how wrong it is.

 Gavin's point is that just because someone is not crying doesn't mean that they are not feeling any emotion.

I saw this a few days ago and was planning to write something about it.  Like Gavin, life stepped in a provided an object lesson.  Late Wednesday evening, my Aunt Nora died.  For the last five years, she suffered the horrible affects of Alzheimers and was being taken away from her loved ones bit by bit.  I've known this woman since I was a baby, so of course it is sad to me.  But, I'm not really bawling my eyes out.  I'm rarely the one that is overly emotional in times like this.  For a long time, I wondered if something was wrong with me.  It's not that I didn't feel sad- it's just that I didn't react in the same way others did.

We live in this world where we expect people to grieve in a certain way.  But there isn't one way to grieve.  Those of us on the spectrum do feel sad and sometimes we can feel sad in ways far stronger than neurotypicals.  But we don't show it in the way that others do.

I think about this as I think about my Dad.  All of his sisters and brothers are now dead and he's the last one.  I know that he is grieving, but typical him, he doesn't show it.  I don't think this is because he is autistic, but he is the typical male of his era.  

But as someone that doesn't express emotion like others, I do understand and I will let him grieve in his own way.

Sometimes the tears don't show on the outside, but they do appear in our hearts.

Welcome to Theobot!

I think I forgot to tell folks that I now I am writing a lectionary blog called Theobot.  Don't expect sterling Biblical scholarship, but do expect some musings from a guy trying to figure out what God is saying in these texts. 
 
Check out the link to this week's post on the Old Testament text.

"Progressive Christians" and Yours Truly

I've been noticing lately within Mainline Protestant  circles, the rising use of the word "progressive" as a way to describe Christians who might have once used the term "mainline Protestant."  The biggest change to note is over at the religion megasite Patheos, which changed the name of one of their religion portals.  What was once called "Mainline Protestant" is now called "Progressive Christian."  That change has brought about a discussion of the term and there have been some fairly good posts about name change.

That said, I'm also a tad bit wary of the term.

Retreads: Change We Can Believe In

I wrote this blog post in March of 2010 on how persons on the autistic spectrum don't like change and how that relates to the modern Mainline Protestant congregation.



In my short time as an ordained minister, I am finding one the most challenging things to take on is congregational transformation. It's one thing to plant a church, quite another for a 133 year-old church to change some of the things its been doing.

In my 17 months at First Christian, I know that people approach change with fear and trepidation. It's scary. It's the unknown. It might lead to people leaving the church.

Change is scary because it wrenches us out of our well-worn ways of doing things. It takes us out of our safe routine. It's just damn uncomfortable.

Believe me, I know. I don't like change.

It's funny how this fear of change so relates to me, especially since my Aspergers diagnosis. One the traits of this form of autism, is that I tend to follow some well worn ways of doing things. I don't like surprises. I don't like things messing up my ordered life.

So, of course I end up with a life partner that lives life at the spur of the moment.

For someone who is autistic and likes his very ordered life which calms him to have someone in your life who loves to be spontaneous can seem like a nightmare.

Sunday Sermon: June 19, 2011

“Go.”

Matthew 28:16-20 and 2 Corinthians 13:11-13

June 19, 2011 (Trinity Sunday)

First Christian Church

Minneapolis, MN

It was fifteen years ago, around this time that I preached my very first sermon.  In fact, it wasn’t to far from here at Grace-Trinity Community Church in Uptown Minneapolis.  I remember being so nervous.  I didn’t really enjoy public speaking and to some extent, it’s still hard for me.  I remember counting down the days until I preached.  I practiced the sermon with the pastor of that congregation who continually told me to speak louder and to try again, and again, which only made me more nervous. My parents drove in from Michigan to see me preach.  I don’t think I sleep that much the night before.  I can remember that Sunday going up to the pulpit and reading my sermon to the gathered congregation.  And I think I didn’t do that bad of a job.  At least that’s what everyone told me.  I’ve preached many times since that sermon in June of 1996, but I’ve never forgotten the emotions surrounding that first time.

What made me so completely nervous was the fact that I was getting up in front of people feeling oh so very naked and vulnerable.  I was sharing my life with other people and that just made me nervous.  Somehow, I was able to get though that sermon.

Autism and Faith

I stumbled upon this blog post that offers tips for faith communities in becoming more welcoming to persons with autism.  There are tips for Christian and Jewish communities. And here is a post about autism within the Muslim community.

Sermon Podcast: Pentecost Sunday

June 12, 2011 (Pentecost Sunday)
Texts: Numbers 11:24-30, Acts 2:1-21

Here's what I preached for Pentecost 2011. Click below to hear the podcast.

Sermons @ First Podcast: June 12, 2011

Sermon Podcast: Palm Sunday

I thought I'd start sharing some of the sermons I have via First Christian's podcast page.  Here's one from Palm Sunday of this year. Click on the link below to hear the sermon.

"To Be Continued..."

The "Heresy" of Pacifism

A friend of mine and I had a very short talk yesterday about the use of the military and that got me thinking overall about pacifism in the church. Maybe it's just me, but there seems at times to be a kind of unspoken pacifism in the church. That in and of itself is not a bad thing in my view, I tend to believe every follower of Jesus should strive to deal with conflict in a nonviolent way. But it seems at times that the pacifism that is running around tends to be more ideological and less willing to deal with the situation at hand. In short, it tends to think more about the letter of the law and not its spirit.

In a perfect world, refraining from violence would be a perfect tactic in dealing with problems. But we don't live in a perfect world and the actors we deal with are not always rational actors.

In thinking about this question of war and the Christian faith, I did some surfing and stumbled upon the blog called the Row Boat by Nathan Schnieder. In a post written in 2009 entitled, "Niebuhr, Pacifism, Realism, Peacebuilding" he critiques Reinhold Niebuhr's essay “Why the Christian Church Is Not Pacifist.”

I have not read Niebuhr's essay (though I intend to). But I did like this review of the essay as well as some of Schnieder's criticism. Niebuhr's organizing take on the world, Christian Realism, is something that I wished was preached more in mainline Protestantism. There's a lot to dig into here, but I want to focus on Niebuhr's take on nonviolence. In short, we look at whether or not the nonviolence practiced by Ghandi was Christian or not:

Niebuhr asks how biblical modern nonviolence theory really is. In the first half of the twentieth century, peaceniks preached peace but generally lacked a method. But by the end of World War II, most believed they had found one in the work of Gandhi. The method of nonviolent resistance perfected in the Indian independence movement quickly began to take hold in the civil-rights struggle of black Americans. (For Niebuhr, as well as for Martin Luther King, the chief source was FOR member Richard Gregg, who lived with Gandhi in India before writing his classic The Power of Non-Violence.) Many Christian pacifists believed that Gandhi was in some sense a fulfillment of Christ’s promise.

Yet does Jesus’s scriptural example really have anything directly to do with Gandhian resistance? Jesus exhibited no interest in the overthrow of an unjust social order, beyond noting that its temples would crumble and its poor would always remain. He stood up for all sides of political divisions—centurions, tax collectors, oppressed Jews, and dejected prostitutes. Sure, he advocated taking blows without complaint, and did so himself; but he also spoke of swords and lashed out at merchants. Jesus’s witness was mainly pacifist, but it would be an exaggeration (and a disappointment) to say that this constituted Jesus’s essential message. Ascribing to him a Gandhi movement would be a stretch.

Schnieder then tries to explain Niebuhr's Christian Realism:

The sum of Niebuhr’s thought is often described as a Christian “realism.” It takes seriously the inevitability of sin and selfishness in human affairs, then seeks a set of social arrangements which provide a modicum of justice and the freedom for Christian witness to flourish.




Violence and war have a place in this. They have a certain necessity for him, though Niebuhr hardly had great confidence in their capacity for do-gooding. An adventure like the 2003 invasion of Iraq, which sought to transform a crumbling society into a model democracy through transformative violence, was hardly something he could get behind. But an intervention in Darfur against a coordinated genocide, more likely yes.

Some folks say pacifism is biblical.  But then again, as Schnieder says, genocide was also favored in the Bible as well.  In the comments, Schnieder explains a bit more how Christians who take nonviolence seriously should make decisions:

I also mean to agree with Niebuhr that Christianity doesn’t equal Gandhian political struggle. Yes, there are resources in the Bible to support it, but there are also resources to support genocide. Jesus’s own efforts seem much closer to anti-political pacifism than political resistance. The point is: I think nonviolent resisters have to take fuller responsibility for their commitments. They can’t just say, “This is what Christianity tells us all to do, so we have to do it.” Instead (and I think this is actually more empowering), they should say, “I am a Christian, and I have come to the conclusion that this is the right thing to do, and I find deep resources to guide me in it in my faith.”

Indeed.  We need to take responsibility for our actions instead of hiding behind the Bible. 

So what does this all mean?  Well I think that it means that not every war is a good war to get involved in or support and it also means that not all wars are bad wars to be avoided.  We have to be willing to look at the Bible and prayerfully consider what God would have us do and then in faith move forward. 

I think the best example of Christian Realism being lived out by a person is the foreign policy of President Obama.  More on that later.

Jesus Without the Church

 I was sitting in the hospital here in Michigan (where I'm at for a few days) after my Mom's knee replacement surgery on Friday when I stumbled upon this blog post from Scot McKnight.  It's about a new book by a minister named Rubel Shelly called, I Knew Jesus Before He was a Christian.  You can probably guess by the title that this is not a book that's going to celebrate all that's good with Christianity.  Here's a sample of what the book is about via McKnight:

Jesus “did not come to found a new religion that would generate still more human precepts masquerading as divine doctrine. He did not produce a creed or command us to write one. He came to ‘reveal the Father.’”




Jesus did not round up disciples to teach about the Trinity, millennium, baptismal formulas, worship protocols, head coverings, the Rapture, female clergy, or a thousand other topics that divide Christians today. He focused on the ‘fundamentals’ instead. He gave his pupils their two-question final exam on the first day of the course — and left us our lifetimes to cram for it. Question one: ‘Do you love God with heart, soul, mind, and strength?’ Question two: ‘Do you love your neighbor as yourself?’”



Here’s a killer statement: “People who read the Gospel stories from the life of Jesus are attracted to him. People who know Christ only through his followers often can’t stand him” (14). Print that out, paste it on your desk or shelf or mirror and let us all remind ourselves. We have a challenge.

There was a time in my life, maybe when I was in my 20s, when such a book would make sense to me. This book and a lot of others, tend to be in the "I-would-follow-Jesus-if-it-wasn't-for-the-church" kind of book.  Somewhere along the way, as I entered my 40s, such books piss me off.

Let me explain.  I know what Shelly and others are getting at.  Jesus came preaching and teaching, he came loving people that most of us would not welcome into our homes.  The people who followed him created an organization that didn't always follow Jesus.  It started to support things like slavery or the subjgation of women or demonizing gay people.  Instead of calling people to follow Christ, it called people to follow the institution called Church.

As a gay man, I get it.  As an African American, I get it.  As someone who is autistic, I get it. The church should be called to account for the times it has so severely gone off the rails from the teachings of Christ.

But I'm still pissed off.

The first thing wrong here is that while I don't think Jesus was interested in setting up an institution, he did want people to tell others about him and pass on the teachings.  Humans being humans, they tend to set up structures to keep those teachings alive.  The second problem is that Jesus shared his life, his teachings with incredibly imperfect people.  The disciples would deny and betray him, and even after Pentecost they would still not get the whole picture.  The church, those folks who profess to follow Jesus are very human and make big, big mistakes.

Maybe its been the years working at a church, but I've come to learn that some of the most wonderful people I've met also have lives that are incredibly imperfect.  And yet, through it all, Jesus shines through.

Sometimes what I desire is a book that took the old quote from Will Campbell seriously: "We're all bastards, but God loves us anyway."  I'd like to hear more stories about how God takes all of us jerks and produces wonderful things, because that is what church has become to me.

Maybe we can have Jesus without the church, but I don't think it would be a living Jesus.  I would not learn about how Jesus is alive today if it were not for those fickle, sinful followers of Christ.

Tyler Cowen Autistic? Why Not?

One my favorite bloggers is economist Tyler Cowen. (If you haven't read his latest book on economics, read it.  It's possibly the most enjoyable book on economics I've ever read.) In an interview with the Atlantic, he reveals something I've long expected:

"In 2004 a reader of his blog suggested to him in an e-mail that he might be autistic," writes Greeley. (The reader in question was Kathleen Fasanella, a pattern maker and consultant who has Asperger syndrome.) "Offended at first, he applied himself to understanding the term, then decided he has what he calls an 'autistic cognitive style,' then wrote a book about it, Create Your Own Economy. (Cowen never sought a professional diagnosis.) ... He describes people with autism as 'infovores' who are attracted to information--the minutiae of train schedules. Or books."

On This Side of Heaven

When I was in college, I remember someone asking the question, is God a loving God or a just God?

The answer, according to this person was both- God is both loving and just.

In the minutes following the news last night that Osama bin Laden was dead, I commented on Facebook that I didn't celebrate his death, but I was relieved justice was served.

Someone responded what justice was served: American or God's?

Well, that left me thinking. I couldn't easy respond to that answer. I tend to believe in a God that loves all, including the sinner and including the one who has killed thousands without a twitch of his conscience.

Of course having just written those words have made me feel somewhat ill. If God can forgive someone like bin Laden, then what kind of God is that? How could the killing of innocents who were doing nothing more than taking trips and going to work be let off the hook?

That brings us to what I think is the other side of God, God's justice. I also believe that God is a just God and can't allow evil to stand. Maybe that means judgement in the hereafter, or judgement now, but either way, injustice can't be allowed to fester.

So,were the Navy Seals who took Osama out doing God's will? I'm a little wary of taking flat out saying yes, though I can say that God might understand. Maybe on this side of heaven sometimes Lovev doesn't always win, sometimes Justice has to meted out.

But justice should never be greeting with emphatic cheers. While there might be some understanding that some people were out in the streets, justice is always a grim task. It's more like oatmeal than it is chocolate cake. A Presbyterian pastor in Ohio sums it up nicely:

The military operation against bin Laden seems necessary to me, even from a Christian perspective. He was a mass murderer of thousands of Americans and of many more Muslims in the Middle East. It seems more than justifiable to go after him, to prevent him from killing any more innocent people, here or anywhere else in the world (though I harbor no illusions that bin Laden's death will end the threat of terrorism). Yet at the same time I claim to serve a Lord and Master who says, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you," a Savior who prayed from the cross on which he was brutally killed, "Father forgive them." And I find it almost inconceivable that this Jesus would dance to celebrate anyone's death.

The fact that operations such as the one against bin Laden are necessary speaks of the brokenness and darkness that are all too much a part of this world. That this is so seems to me a cause for lament. And while this sad state of affairs may require that we wield the sword, that we kill, there is a sense in which we are thus drawn into the world's darkness.

I don't take any joy out of what happened, only that it is now over.

Sunday's events remind me that on this side of heaven, there will still be folks like bin Laden who commit heinous acts of evil. But there are also those folks who might not kill on a massive scale, but who murder, or molest children and do other sundry deeds. On this side of heaven, sometimes force has to be used to stop evil. But we are also called to love as though we are on the other side. We are called to live in the future and in the here and now.

I think bin Laden's death was a sense of justice, but not one to celebrate. But I also look to the day when Love does conquer all, when peace reigns and when creation is made whole.

Amen. Come Lord Jesus.

Photo: this is the cover Time Magazine will use for its next issue on Thursday, May 5.

Lectionary Musings: Cruise Control

Easter Sunday A
Matthew 28:1-10

I have to believe that one of the most beautiful inventions has to be cruise control in cars.  There's something kinda cool about pressing a button and having the car basically drive itself during long trips.  All I have to do is sit back, relax and the car drive itself.

Okay, I don't just let the car drive itself.  I do have to keep my eyes on the road.  Cruise control doesn't mean I get to excuse myself from driving- I still have to be alert and ready for any changes on the highway.

Easter can be both a blessing and a curse.  It's a blessing of course because Jesus defeated the powers of death and arose on that Sunday morning long ago.  But it's also a curse, because it comes at the end of a long week and we are just plumb tired.

But maybe what really makes Easter a curse is that we've done it so many times.  We sing the same songs and preach the same sermons year after year.  I don't know about others, but there have been moments when I feel that this has all be done before.  Ressurrection is so first century.

It's easy to go on cruise control when it comes to Easter.  But I wonder if doing that means we miss what might be going on in the story.  I wonder if we miss how this old story is not so old in reality.  Maybe in reading this story again, we will see where new life is springing up in our own lives.

The gospel text today has a lot going on, but I want to focus on one group of characters: the women.  If you want an example of what it means to live without hope, it has to be the two Marys.  These women had a close relationship with Jesus and believed that this guy was special.  Then he ends up getting killed.  They come to the tomb on Sunday morning without any hope.  Another idealist is killed.  Cynicism wins again.

I think back to my time in Clinical Pastoral Education.  I remember meeting a young man who lost one leg in an accident.  I would spend time in his room where he would say very little to me.  His face was one not simply of sadness, but one of profound grief.  He was only 21.  He had a future ahead of him.  But the future was now more cloudy and his face told me had little hope.

That is what these women felt.  There are times in our lives when we feel that there is no hope that things will change.  No hope that someone will get better; no hope that you will get that job; no hope that a loved one will quit drinking.

And then, there's an earthquake, and an angel appears saying that Jesus is no longer at the tomb but alive.  I have to believe the Marys thought it was a joke.  But if they thought that, they didn't think it for very long.  Matthew says the left with fear and great joy.  As they run to tell their friends the good news, they meet Jesus, alive and well.  Where there was no hope, there was now hope. 

The message of Easter is one of hope, but it starts in a place where there is no hope.  It starts in the way things are in the world.  If someone is dead, they kinda stay dead.

But hope has a different agenda.  It can bring life where there was no life and healing where there was sickness.  It reminds us that God is there with us, even when we feel abandoned.  Hope is there even when everything is tell us that there is no hope.

As you go to your faith communities this Sunday, please don't operate on cruise control.  Read the Easter story again and think about the two Marys.  Think about the disciples or the guards.  Read the story again and pay attention.  Think about hopelessness. Think about helplessness.  Think about love. Think about hope.  Think about it all and believe the good news that Jesus is alive and well.

Christ is Risen!

Dennis Sanders is the Associate Pastor at First Christian Church in Minneapolis.

Sunday Sermon: April 17, 2011 (Palm Sunday)

“To Be Continued…”

Philippians 2:5-11 and Matthew 27:11-54

April 17, 2011 (Palm Sunday)

First Christian Church

Minneapolis, MN

About a 10 years ago, I was driving down I-35W from Edina to Minneapolis.  All of the sudden, the traffic just stopped.  Now usually if there is a traffic jam, the traffic slows down, but it rarely just stops.  I looked at the other lane and it was devoid of any traffic…at all.  It was a little odd to see a freeway not have any cars on it at all, especially at the middle of the day.

Just then, a caravan of black cars made its way down the empty lane.  One of those cars was a limousine with flags donning the hood.  It occurred to me that what had just passed me by was a presidential motorcade.  Then-President Bush was in town to make a speech in Eden Prairie and as is the case whenever the president is in town, all roads leading from the airport to the location where the president will be are shut down totally to offer he or she protection.

Frankly, I think it’s kinda cool that as president you don’t have to worry about traffic jams.  Ever. 

It's Friendship...Friendship...

What's been on my mind lately is friendship and how bad I suck at it.

Every since I can remember, I've never been good at making and keeping friends. I look at other folks and the ease at which they meet people and wonder what's their secret. Looking back, I know that a lot the difficulty was due to being autistic. I don't want to make it sound like an excuse, it's just that the way my brain works makes it a bit more of a challenge to meet other people.

That said, it's not like I've tried. Sometimes I think I come on too strong and sometimes not strong enough. Either I freak people out by being too earnest or I ignore the little signs that are important in any type of relationship.

It's funny that over the last few years, especially after my diagnosis, I kinda stopped trying to make friends. It's like a part of me just decided to quit trying.

Of course, if I stop then I don't learn.

The thing is, I would like to try again, even if it means I keep getting it wrong. And I'd like to try to tend to the friendships I have, even if I get that wrong. This all has the tinge of being like Data from Star Trek in that like our android friend, I keep trying to be human even though I screw up over and over.

Frankly, I wish there were some book that told you how to make friends. It always seems like everyone else has the secret code or something that I don't have and I'm trying to figure things out by trial and error.

And if there's also a book on how to handle this whole relationship/love thing with your husband, please let me know.

This Is Gonna Be The Best Lent Ever!

My partner Daniel likes to make a few of what I call, "Ash Wednesday Jokes."  On what is suppose to be this very serious day, he always says something like: "This is gonna be the best Lent ever!"

I find his joking hilarious because it's so odd: making a joke on a day when jokes don't seem to make sense. Ash Wednesday begins the season of Lent and that brings about images of ashes and pastors telling people that they are dust and to dust they will return.  It's also a time when we try to "give something up for Lent," or fast a few days during the season.  Lent is a lot of things, but levity is not one of them.

But the thing is, Daniel is right.  We should look at Lent not as a time of sadness, but with hope and expectation.

Yes, a day like Ash Wednesday and indeed the whole time of Lent is a time to remind ourselves that we are sinners, that we fall short of the mark and that we make a mess of things.  But it is should also be a time when we are reminded of God's grace and the fact that even though we fall short, we are forgiven by God.  Christ's death on the cross and his later ressurection freed us from the consequences of sin.

The epistle for Ash Wednesday talks about how through Christ we are made righteous.  Kind of an odd text for Lent, huh?  But the thing is, we need to be reminded of that as much as we do our sin.  We are made free in Christ.  Hope is not lost.

Paul's second letter to the Corinthians also has in it a bit of a lenten discipline.  Because we are free in Christ, we are called to be reconciled to God.  We don't try to live as God's people so that we can become God's people; we try to live as God's people because we are God's people.

So, maybe this Lent we should remember that we are God's.  Maybe we should remember that yes, we are sinners, but we are sinners saved by grace.  Maybe Lent should be as much a time for joy as much as it is for introspection.

Maybe it should be the best Lent ever.

Body and Soul

David Brooks highlights something that many theologians have known for a while: that bodies and souls are not so separate after all.

Integration and the Church

When it comes to building a truly diverse church both mainline and evangelical Protestants do a really bad job about it.  Most churches are still mainly one racial group.  However, a church in Germany seems to be trying a different approach that just might work:

In Bonn, Germany, there is a church called Centrum Lebendiges Wort which has chosen a different approach. Rather than set up a mini-church, they offer interpreting, free of charge, at every Sunday service. The English speakers attend the same service as the German speakers, as do the French speakers and the Chinese speakers. The pastor still preaches in German, but while he preaches, four interpreters at a time interpret his sermon into other languages. They have even gone as far as having multilingual worship: at CLW you find yourself worshipping in German, English, French and even Chinese, all within the same service. Of course, there is much more to a church than Sunday services, but let’s stop there for just now.

What are the drawbacks of this approach? Well, it isn’t cheap. Simultaneous interpreting equipment (sound-proof booths, transmitters, receivers, microphones, headsets) will set you back a good few thousand pounds (or dollars, or Euros). Similarly, interpreting is not an easy skill to master, even for people who speak two languages fluently. Worship in three or four languages takes more effort than worship in one.

Nevertheless, it seems undeniable that this approach is much nearer to integration than creating a mini-church or, worse, not bothering to reach people from other cultures at all. It also seems a lot nearer to what we see in Acts 2, where people from all over the world heard the gospel in the same place, at the same time.

A Question About Kids and Communion

Recently, I've faced a question at church about children and communion.  We had some issues where young kids (about 5 years old) wanted to take part in communion.  The mother talked about how this little one really wanted to take part in communion.

In the Disciples of Christ, kids usually get baptized around age 11 or 12 and usually then participates in communion.  But these days, kids really want to participate sooner and many people think it's important to not exclude kids from communion, even if they have not been baptized yet.

For me, this is an issue that I struggle with.  On the one hand, I hear the  pleading voice of children who want to be included and how could I not?  On the other hand, I grew up (in my Baptist upbringing) learning that one had to wait until baptism to take part in communion.

Historically, people did not have communion until they were baptized usually during Easter vigil. Of course, just because it was done in the past, doesn't mean we should do it today.

So, I want to ask a question: what are the theological reasons for including kids, regardless of age or being baptized, in the Lord's Supper?  Also, was the older way of waiting until a certain age just about people hating children or was there a reason for it?  Has something changed or have we just become more enlightened?

I would lean towards including kids, but I want a reason that's more than "let's be inclusive."  Inclusivity is important, but I want to know why we should do this.

Sunday Sermon: February 27, 2011

“Seeking God in a Shattered World”
Matthew 6:24-34; Isaiah 49:8-16
February 27, 2011
First Christian Church
Minneapolis, MN


This was one of those weeks that no body told me about when I was in seminary.



If you have not heard, the church building was hit twice this week by vandalism on Monday and then again on Wednesday. Someone decided to throw some bricks in the windows in the Fellowship Hall. As many of you know, these aren’t the only two acts of vandalism that have taken place recently. Since the beginning of the year, I’ve counted six incidents. It started with someone spray painting the words, “No God!” on our church sign on First Avenue. Then we started getting the broken windows.



I have to hand to Max Hurlocker, the Property Chair and our Office Manager Chris Wogaman, who were busy making calls to repair the windows, call the police and our landlord, the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. Since Bob was out of town, I stepped in to do…well not a whole lot, but to at least provide a listening ear. As I sat in on a meeting on Tuesday with representatives from the Institute and the alarm company I could hear some the questions coming from our members. They all boiled down to one simple question: why? Why was someone targeting us? What did we do to deserve this?



Having someone vandalize your property once is bad enough, but then it happens twice in the space of 48 hours, it can be downright unsettling and produce a lot of worry. You don’t feel secure anymore. You wonder if it will happen again or if it will get worse.



It’s funny that this is all taking place as the Lectionary texts deal with Jesus’ Sermon the Mount. Last week we hear the call to love our enemies and this week Jesus tells his followers not to worry.



I’ve heard people say that the Sermon on the Mount is basically a guide to living an ethical life. But if Jesus was trying to make a living as a self-help guru, then this is an epic fail. Jesus is asking us to do the impossible. Love some jerk who throws a brick into our building? Really? Don’t worry about things?



Right.



The Sermon on the Mount is impossible to follow. The fact is, we will fail in trying to live by it. And yet, here it is, here Jesus is, calling for us to not worry about what we are going to eat or what we are going to wear.



If it seems odd to hear this in the aftermath of vandalism, it’s even harder to hear it in this current economy, where people worry constantly about keeping their homes and their jobs. Jesus tells us not to serve God and money, but let’s face it: we worry about our finances. We have debts and mortgages and bills to pay and we wonder if we will always be able to pay them.



We could just ignore this passage and go on with our lives, and in many ways we do that anyway. How many times have we heard this passage and just move on? It’s a nice saying, but it has no bearing on reality.



But we can’t ignore this passage. It does speak to us, even as it calls us to do the impossible. Jesus calls us to trust that God will take care of the details. As the old Stevie Wonder song goes, “Don’t You Worry ‘Bout a Thing.” Matthew 6:33 says, “seek first the kingdom of God.” Some versions use the word “strive” instead of “seek.”

Either way, we are being asked to try to strive to live as God calls us to live in this world. The Sermon on the Mount is a step-by-step guide on how to live a good life, but it is a way , a rule of life, of how the followers Jesus should live. We are following a high calling from God to be a peculiar people in the world even though we will fall short time and time again.



I don’t blame people for worrying about all the vandalism. That’s a natural response. It also makes sense to do what you can to prevent from happening again. I think we are always going to worry about things.



The concern is when our worry about things gets in the way of striving to be God’s people. A broken window should not deter us from reaching out to our neighbors. It should not prevent us from giving out bus cards to those who are homeless or poor. It should not stop us from feeding the poor or finding ways to shelter those without homes. Despite the worry, we seek to be a faithful community that shares God’s love in word and in deed.



You all know that I’m a bivocational pastor. I work as the Communication Director for the Presbytery of the Twin Cities Area. This week, I was asked to take pictures for an open house at Kwanzaa Presbyterian Church, which is located in North Minneapolis. As the name suggests, it’s an African American congregation. One of the co-pastors there is Alika Galloway, and she took about an hour to talk about all the various ministries going on at the church and there is a lot. There is an after-school program that provides a lot number of African American kids who live in poverty and meal and a stable place to learn and play. There is also a program called Northside Women’s Space which is done in conjuction with a researcher from the University of Minnesota. The Women’s Space simply offers a refuge for women who work in the sex trade. Many of these women live chaotic lives where they face abuse from pimps and johns. This space, housed in one of the congregation’s buildings gives these women a place just to be and even give them some help.



All of this takes place in a part of town that is not the safest. I would guess there is a lot of worry that takes place at Kwanzaa. But yet, they seem to strive for God’s kingdom, feeding those who are hungry and giving hope to the outcast.



As I was getting ready to head to the church, I had to make a phone call to the congregation. I got their voice mail and heard Alika’s voice. Towards the end of the recorded voicemail message Alika said “It’s True, it’s true, it’s true. God loves you, God loves you, God loves you.”



That’s a message that people in North Minneapolis need to hear, especially if they live in poverty and feel that no one cares for them. They need to know that someone cares for them, and as the passage says today, if God cares for the lilies and birds, God cares for these folks. Kwanzaa makes sure that the residents of North Minneapolis know that by saying it and doing it.



It’s also a message for us. In the midst of our own worries and struggles remember that “it’s true, it’s true, it’s true. God love us, God love us, God love us.” Thanks be to God. Amen.

Thoughts on "Being Human"

It's been a long time since I've really followed a scripted television series. Most folks I know have raved about shows like Glee, Lost and Battlestar Galactica, but none of those have really held my attention. Over the last few years, I've basically stuck to HGTV and reality shows like Top Chef.

But I now love to get in front of the TV on Mondays to watch "Being Human" on SyFy. This is actually the American version of a British series that's been on since 2009. The premise in both series is that a vampire, werewolf and ghost live together and try to be...well, human.

I really have enjoyed the episodes as each tries to deal with what they are and also try to hold to some humanity.  They all face temptations to give into their darker sides which is what gives the series its edge.

I've always had a fascination with werewolves (and wolves in general) so the character I've had the most interest in is Josh (George in the British version) the geeky "Jewish kid from Ithaca" who leaves everything behind once he becomes a werewolf.  He's basically the heart of the threesome and an emotional mix of every emotion.  He's fun to watch as he tries so hard to fit in.

In some way, the series is an allegory to me of trying to fit in and make the best of what life hands you.  In being both gay and being autistic, I've had to find ways to learn to accept myself and find ways to fit in, so I connect with the three as they try to just live.

It's a great show in both versions.

The Social Network

Via Scott McKnight, I came upon this blog post by Richard Beck about how Facebook is killing the church. Yes, you heard me: Facebook is killing the church.

The difference between Generations X and Y isn't in their views of the church. It's about those cellphones. It's about relationships and connectivity. Most Gen X'ers didn't have cell phones, text messaging or Facebook. These things were creeping in during their college years but the explosive onset of mobile devices and social computing had yet to truly take off.

So why has mobile social computing affected church attendance? Well, if church has always been kind of lame and irritating why did people go in the first place? Easy, social relationships. Church has always been about social affiliation. You met your friends, discussed your week, talked football, shared information about good schools, talked local politics, got the scoop, and made social plans ("Let's get together for dinner this week!"). Even if you hated church you could feel lonely without it. Particularly with the loss of "third places" in America.

But Millennials are in a different social situation. They don't need physical locations for social affiliation. They can make dinner plans via text, cell phone call or Facebook. In short, the thing that kept young people going to church, despite their irritations, has been effectively replaced. You don't need to go to church to stay connected or in touch. You have an iPhone.

Sure, Millennials will report that the "reason" they are leaving the church is due to its perceived hypocrisy or shallowness. My argument is that while this might be the proximate cause the more distal cause is social computing. Already connected Millennials have the luxury to kick the church to the curb. This is the position of strength that other generations did not have. We fussed about the church but, at the end of the day, you went to stay connected. For us, church was Facebook!

I think this post exposes one of the weaknesses of the modern-day church, and reminds us what church is all about. Churches are of course made up of humans, so they are social communities, places where people connect with one another. Friendships are made at church. People find their future husband or wife at church.

The problem isn't that churches are social communities; the problem is when that's all they are. In the heyday of mainline churches, congregations could get away with being a religious Elks Club. But what happens when new communal spaces like Facebook come around? Well, people don't need to go to a church to meet other people when they can do that on Facebook or Twitter or someplace else.

Churches have to be places where we can connect with each other, but also remind us of the holy. They have to be places where we are formed into the likeness of Christ. Yes, they need to be places of social connection, but that can't be the main thing anymore. It never was supposed to be.

This Is Our Hope

First Christian had its annual Anniversary Dinner yesterday, celebrating 134 years of ministry.  I decided to make a video outlining what missions and ministries took place in the last year at church.  Below is the result.

The Possibilities of a Disability

A few days ago, a fellow pastor asked me if I wanted be a senior pastor.  When I first heard it, I was a bit taken aback.  Ever since I had my diagnosis of Aspergers, I had decided that maybe being a solo or even senior pastor was out of the questions.  I knew that they way my brain worked and some past experiences made me think that I could never be a the only pastor at a church.  Indeed, someone in small group who also has Aspergers wondered aloud how I could be a pastor at all.

But now I'm starting to wonder if maybe I have limited myself too quickly.  Maybe I could be a solo pastor somewhere.

What has me thinking differently is this video by John Elder Robison for his second book, Be Different.  I enjoyed his first book, Look Me In the Eye, so I'm really looking forward to this new one.  The main point of his trailer is that even though those of us who are autistic might have roadblocks in our lives, we shouldn't sell ourselves short.  There is a lot that we can do, it's just that we do it differently.


Since my diagnosis, I've focused on my limits. In some ways, this is a good thing to point: I mean, you need to realize that you aren't going to be good at everything.

But the thing is, I still can be a pastor and a damn good one at that- it's just that I tend to do things a bit differently than other pastors.

What's so good about being a pastor who has trouble with executive function or social skills?  Well, it's still a question I'm trying to answer, but I think that my time at First has taught me I can do a hell of a lot.  I've been able to use my creativity to the benefit of the wider community.  I've learned how to be able to simply let people talk ( for some reason, people like to talk to pastors).  I've also just learned how to be able to engage in small talk.  I also think I'm able to see ideas no one else can see. 

I could say that my time at First has helped me become more "human," but I would like to think that I've also helped others at the church get in touch with their humanity as well.

Of course from the standpoint of faith, I am reminded that God constantly used people who on the outside didn't seem up to the job.  Moses supposedly had a speech problem and still led his people out of Egypt.  Gideon was a scaredy cat and led an army that defeated an enemy exponentially bigger than his army, the disciples of Jesus included people who weren't very smart and yet they were the ones that established the church. 

I've known all this for years, but I haven't yet let it sink into me.  Partly its because of my history, where I was always making mistakes and running around like a bull in a china shop.  I allowed myself to think I wasn't of any value, that I was a bit of a mess.

And I still am a bit of a mess, but I'm getting better.  I know I have skills and talents.  My autism can be a gift, it can be something that is an asset and not simply a demerit.

I'm still on a journey to learn about the gifts of an autistic pastor.  I don't have all the answers, but let's just say I'm a lot more open these days to a future solo pastorate than I was even a week ago.

Notes from a Reluctant Liberal Christian

A few years ago, a dear friend of mine described me as an evangelical turned liberal Protestant.  I remember blanching at that definition.  Politically, I tend to lean more center-right/libertarian.  Theologically, I'm pretty orthodox.

But the fact is, I am a liberal Protestant these days.  I'm ordained into a mainline Protestant denomination (Disciples of Christ) and I have standing in another denomination that in some cases is the very embodiment of liberal Protestantism (the United Church of Christ).

I've been a part of mainline Protestantism for nearly 20 years.  In the years after college, I found the evangelicalism of my youth wanting and left it seeking a better fit.  I found that in mainline churches.  I should add, that I never looked down on evangelical past; I think it is still a worthy tradition and it made me who I am.  But, my home is now in a different tradition.

And yet it has at times been an uneasy fit.  Don't get me wrong; I am thankful for a tradition that honors diversity.  My evangelical roots would never accept an open gay pastor, but liberal Protestantism did.  It has also been on the forefront of issues such as civil rights and helped give women a more equal footing in America.

But while in many ways, I am liberal in my theology, I feel at times that the liberalism I am talking about is from another era.  Some of my uneasiness is reflected in Bruce Reyes-Chow's excellent essay on the good and bad liberal Christianity.  Unlike me, he is way more comfortable wearing the liberal label, but he also able to be critical of it:

Over the past few months I have found myself frustrated a lot.  Sitting on the sidelines observing a few interactions between Christians with whom I find theological and ideological commonality, I've found myself whispering under my breath, "I love ya. I agree with ya. But you are really not helping." It seems that in an attempt to respond to actions and words that we liberals feel are wrong, even destructive, we often do more harm than good.

Now I realize that for me to make such broad sweeping statements is pretty arrogant and I fully admit my participation in most of the following accusations in my life. But let me be equally arrogant in saying that if the liberal or progressive church - and we can fight over "liberal," "progressive," etc. definitions HERE - is going to lead the way forward in the church and be part of a larger cultural conversation about morals and faith, we have got to quit shooting ourselves in the proverbial foot and driving people away from our particular approach to faith and life.

His post reads as a love letter to his fellow liberals, telling them to do good work, but also calling them on where they fall short.

On the other hand, Walter Russell Mead's essay from last year reads like a letter from a longsuffering wife to her cheating husband.  He rails against liberal Christianity's willingness to get in bed with the political left at the expense of the life of the church:

In the mainline churches, which is what I know best, the political views leaders express are generally those of what could be called the ‘foundation left’ — emotionally grounded in concern for the poor and development, historically linked to the ‘new left’ mix of economic and social concerns as developed in the 1960′s, shaped by an atmosphere of privilege and entitlement that reflects the upper middle class background of the educated professionals who run these institutions.  The social sins they deplore are those of the right: excessive focus on capitalism, too robust and unheeding a promotion of the American national and security interest abroad, insufficient care for the environment, failure to help the poor through government welfare programs, failure to support affirmative action, failure to celebrate and protect the unrestricted right of women to abort.  I am of course speaking very generally here and there are lots of individual exceptions, but many of these folks are generally tolerant of theological differences and rigidly intolerant when it comes to political differences: they care nothing at all about doctrines like predestination but get very angry with people who disagree with them about issues like global warming or immigration reform.  Theological heresy is a matter for courtesy and silence, but political heretics fill them with bile.

Back in the days of the civil rights movement and the Vietnam war, it was news when Episcopal bishops sided in public with liberal causes.  It took real courage for bishops and priests to speak up in some cases; one of the clergymen in the town where I grew up had been driven from his last parish in Alabama because he spoke up for the Montgomery bus boycott led by Martin Luther King.  Other priests received death threats; some who participated in the Freedom Rides and other demonstrations were beaten by angry mobs.

But these days an Episcopal bishop would have to go to a lot of trouble to get into the news for backing a liberal political cause.  The headline says it all: Liberal Official of Small, Declining Liberal Denomination Endorses Liberal Idea.  This isn’t news for two reasons: it is utterly predictable and it doesn’t matter.  Trivial and predictable are not news, and the political stands that the mainline clergy take are almost always both.  A statement by an Episcopal bishop will not change one mind or one vote; at least in all my years in the pews I’ve never met a single Episcopalian who said that the opinion of a bishop does or should have the slightest influence on how Episcopalians vote and if the churchgoers aren’t paying attention to the bishops I can’t imagine anyone else is.

I’m not urging the bishops to change their politics.  I’m urging them to shut up.  More precisely, I’m urging them to base their ministry on a clearer understanding of their situation and their role.

It's important to note that both Reyes-Chow and Mead are liberal Christians from mainline Protestant denominations.  Both talk about the decline of the mainline church.  But where Reyes-Chow has a more sunny and hopeful view, Mead is far more dire- his post is fire and brimstone.

In many ways, I feel that I have both views living inside of me.  There are days that I am more like Reyes-Chow, wanting to gently admonish people who I consider my friends, and there are days I want to rip them a new hole.

I would agree with Mead that liberal Christianity has become too chumy with the political left.  I've long agreed that American evangelicalism sold itself out to the GOP, but it didn't take me long to figure out that mainline Christians had done the same with the Democrats.  What's frustrating at times is to see Christians have mirrored the larger world: Team Red on one side and Team Blue on the other.

I'm not asking that liberal Christians who are politically liberal change their ideology, but could we not try to ape the larger society?  Can  we be willing to critical of the political left as we are of the political right?  Can we worry less about getting people to support this viewpoint and give people the tools to think as Christians in the world, influencing culture in different ways? Can we find a way to separate partisan politics from faith? Can the church be follwers of Jesus and not try to make Jesus the mascot of either party?

I guess what I'm asking is that we find ways to talk about justice without it devolving into some kind of pep-rally for this or that political party.  When I work on issues like homelessness or poverty, I want to help people think of how they can put their faith to work, not to tell them to support an agenda. 

Blogger Nathan Gilmour had this to say about justice, the political left and right in a commentary on last Sunday's texts:

...far too often any old cause of the New Left gets baptized in the name of being not-fundamentalist, and far too little inspection and criticism happens, especially when libertarian/capitalist categories of “choice” and “rights” rather than Christian practices like hospitality and thankfulness govern Christian discourse about “issues.” The univocality of Being once again threatens what I take to be genuine Christian reflection in these circles as well: throwing one’s time, effort, money, and sometimes more behind the DNC (just as much as the GOP) machine far too often requires participation in the Manichean machinery of American political discourse, and  such participation far too often loses sight of the common lot of mortals in light of the strong analogical difference between God and humanity.  (And there are few more dishonest moments than when a dedicated New-Left Democrat says that “this is not a left-right issue”: if I had money to gamble, I would bet every time that the next line out of the New-Left Democrat’s mouth is going to be party-line social liberalism.)  Not unlike the Right-Wingers that the Christian Left (rightly) holds in suspicion, the stance in favor of some kinds of Social Justice tends towards a strong division: contract-enforcement for one’s political enemies and seeking-for-shalom for one’s political friends.  The urge is neither inhuman nor unexpected, but it’s not all that different from its mirror image.  The hesed and the mishphat that Micah points to in this week’s reading call everyone to account and to repentance, not in the spirit of some flattened “moral equivalence” but in the realization that, when seen in the light of analogically different divine justice and kindness, no mortal’s sense of the good life should remain un-illuminated.  Perhaps the best place to start is indeed to walk humbly.

Walking humbly.  It sounds like a good start for all of us.

The Autistic's Guide to Grooming

This might seem like rather odd advice to give to person- after all it's something that most kids learn at an early age. But for someone who might be autistic, this might not occur to them at all.

I've always been good when it comes to grooming- especially when it comes to taking a bath or brushing my teeth. But I do remember that after I grew a goatee, it took me a while to realize that I had to keep it neat and trim.   Walking around with a scraggly goatee probably didn't help me on the job front way back when.

None of this is to say that anyone with autism has a problem with grooming, but is something to know about.

Stop Making Sense

The fallout from the shooting of US Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords and 12 others on Saturday has been both fascinating and frustrating to watch.

It's been fascinating because the gun barrels had yet to grow cold when people starting pointing fingers and assigning blame. It's frustrating because we seem to be more interested in blame than in stopping for a moment and simply mourning the loss of life.

Since Saturday, everyone has been trying to offer some explaination about what happened. The one issue that keeps coming up again and again is the tone of political rhetoric in our daily disc0urse. The more nakedly partisan among us dig up maps used by Sarah Palin and point to the former governor and the larger conservative movement as the problem. The less partisan bring up calls for more civility. More than one fellow pastor has called for our political speech to be more charitable.

All of the folks in question swear up and down that such speech is not what killed six people and injured 13 others, but in reality, that is exactly what they are saying. They are saying inflamed speech, such as the use of crosshairs on an ad by a certain former Alsakan governor, is what lead to the massacre in Tuscon.

But the reality is, we really don't know why Jared Loughner decided to open fire at a Safeway. We have a lot of odd writings that don't seem to make sense. On Saturday, James Fallows admitted that many an assasin has shot someone for motives that really had nothing to do with anything:

- Leo Ryan, the first (and, we hope, still the only) Representative to be killed in the line of duty, was gunned down in Guyana in 1978 for an investigation of the Jim Jones/Jonestown cult, not any "normal" political issue.

- Sirhan Sirhan horribly transformed American politics by killing Robert F. Kennedy in 1968, but Sirhan's political causes had little or nothing to do with what RFK stood for to most Americans.

- So too with Arthur Bremer, who tried to kill George C. Wallace in 1972 and left him paralyzed.

- The only known reason for John Hinckley's shooting of Ronald Reagan involves Jodie Foster.

- It's not often remembered now, but Manson family member Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme tried to shoot Gerald Ford, again for reasons that would mean nothing to most Americans of that time.

- When Harry Truman was shot at (and a policeman was killed) on the sidewalk outside the White Blair House, the attackers were concerned not about Cold War policies or Truman's strategy in Korea but about Puerto Rican independence.

- The assassinations of William McKinley and James Garfield were also "political" but not in a way that matched the main politics of that time. The list could go on.

And Ross Douthat's Monday column shows that the assisnation of John F. Kennedy was not due to the anti-Democratic climate in Dallas at the time:

When John F. Kennedy visited Dallas in November of 1963, Texas was awash in right-wing anger — over perceived cold-war betrayals, over desegregation, over the perfidies of liberalism in general. Adlai Stevenson, then ambassador to the U.N., had been spit on during his visit to the city earlier that fall. The week of Kennedy’s arrival, leaflets circulated in Dallas bearing the president’s photograph and the words “Wanted For Treason.”

But Lee Harvey Oswald was not a right-winger, not a John Bircher, not a segregationist. Instead, he was a Marxist of sorts (albeit one disillusioned by his experiences in Soviet Russia), an activist on behalf of Castro’s Cuba, and a man whose previous plot had been aimed at a far-right ex-general named Edwin Walker. The anti-Kennedy excesses of Texas conservatives were real enough, but the president’s assassin acted on a far more obscure set of motivations.

I think part of the reason there has been all this talk about cooling our political speech is because we want to find some answer for this tragedy. We want to make sense of the horror. What better way to make sense of this all than to pin the blame on something or someone else?

But can we really blame it on inflammatory speech? Crosshairs aside, was anybody really calling for the assasination of Representative Giffords? And if the culprit is speech, then how in the world do you "cool down" down the rhetoric? Is this simply a moral problem that can be solved by faith communities or is it something that requires the state to take part?

People are trying hard to find a way to pin a villian, usually a villian that people already don't like. It makes this horror easier to understand to our anxious hearts. But I think the awesome reality is that we don't understand what is going on. We want to, but we don't. There is no easy answer to this situation.

And that scares us. Because if there is no easy answer, then it means that life can be random, that sometimes things happen for no discernable reason. We want there to be an easy reason for endangering the life of a public servant and for killing a nine-year-old whose only crime was going to this event to learn more about government.

There is no real way to make sense of this tragedy and I wish others would stop trying to do so.

What I wish we would do is what Daniel Hernandez did. Hernandez is an intern at Giffords' office and after the Congresswoman was shot on Saturday, he stayed by her side and applied bandages to her wounds. Many people think he might have saved her life.

Instead of pontificating and seeking easy answers, I think we need to simply stand by the side of the hurting. As blogger Michael Kruse says, we need to be able to grieve and comfort those who mourn.

The book of Job is a biblical account of a man who goes through immense suffering. He loses everything- including his children and is visited by his three friends. Later on, the three friends try to offer reasons for Job's sufferings, which were never much helpful. At the beginning, though, they met with Job and just sat with him.

Sometimes, in times of tragedy, nothing needs to be said. We just need to sit, mourn and pray for those lost. We don't have to make sense of everything.

Crossposted at Big Tent Revue

Growing Up and Letting Go

A friend from high school said something on Facebook recently, that really stuck with me.  The friend pulled an all-nighter, not partying, but chatting and commented that at 41 he wasn't spry as he once was.

Being the same age, I could totally agree with him.  I can't do the same things I used to do when I was 21, and in some cases, I don't want to.  Once you hit your 40s, you start to realize you aren't young anymore.  It might sound odd, but I feel more of an adult now than I did when I turned 21. 

Knowing your age is important.  Ageing means accepting limits and being open to new possibilities because of those limits. 

Which has led me to think about Brett Farve.  Farve is just a few weeks younger than me and we all know, he is ending his long football career...we think.  Farve was supposed to have retired two years ago, and then came back, retired again and then came back again.  I don't know what is it about Farve that he wants to remain in football, when his body is telling him its time to give it up.  What I do know is that it's pretty sad to see a guy trying to hold on his youth, even though his youth left him long ago.

Lane Wallace has written a wonderful essay on Farve and letting go in the Atlantic. (I guess I wasn't the only one thinking about this.) She writes:

...pursuing something you're so passionate about that you not only excel at it but feel it was something you were born to do makes that activity far more central to both your life and your identity. So what do you do when you edge closer to Father Time than the possibility-filled infant year? When enough years pass that the top of the bell curve slips through your grasp and you find yourself sliding down the far side? When you're past your prime, or not physically or mentally able to do or be what people recognized you for anymore? Who are you, then?


The entertainer and comedian Carol Burnett once said she ended her variety show while it was still getting high ratings—a show that gave her a level of fame and success she never again equalled—because she wanted to exit before the hostess started turning out the lights and asking her to leave. If only Elvis could have had that strength and self-control!

In the church, I've been aware of pastors who stayed in the pulpit way past their time and I know the damage that can do to a congregation. The fear is that when the last sermon is given, they will lose their identity. 

Which is what I think Farve is dealing with right now.  He is known as a great quarterback and if he leaves the stage, what will he be then?

Of course, one can be a lot of things, as Wallace notes in her essay.  But it's hard to see that when you're wrapped up in living in your glory days.

So yeah, I'm not a spring chicken anymore.  If I'm not in the "man of a certain age" territory, I'm damn close.  And that's okay.  I still have a future ahead of me and I'm looking forward to see what I will do...when I "grow up."

Where Dennis Tries to Write A Bible Study

For the last few months, I've been leading a Bible Study at church where we did an overview of the Gospels.  I used some material from the Thoughtful Christian and I think the study went over well.  In looking for what to do next, I stumbled upon a curriculum called Joining the Story on Discipleshare, an open-source Christian Education resource that contains materials written by Disciples of Christ pastors and lay leaders.  Joining the Story was written by Lee Yates, a Disciples pastor in Kentucky. It's written to provide some Bible literacy to youth.  While I'm all for that, I wanted to make it accessible to adults, so I got this fool idea to adapt Joining the Story to adults.

Now, you have to understand a few things.  I have this love/hate relationship with Christian Education.  I'm fascinated by it and want to learn more, but I don't consider myself a teacher and feel like a poor Biblical scholar at best.  That's always made me hesitant to teach, even though people think I do a good job. 

So, I decided to try to adapt this study.  Some of it includes Lee's words (I did ask for permission).  I don't know if I will do a good job, but if you want to see what I'm doing, I've set up a blog where I am writing the curriculum (I'm taking a page from Landon Whitsitt's idea of writing a book online). Take a look a please feel free to let me know what I should add (or detract). 

I look forward to you all joining me on this odd journey.  God help me.  Really.  I mean, what the hell am I getting myself into?