Once again, the pulpit beckons. November 9, the 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, I will be in front of the congregation of Old Pine, preaching, proclaiming, heralding and calling. The road from here to there, though, is long and crowded. I thought I should get a head start.
I invite our regular and irregular readers to join me on this journey again. The texts for this sermon are:
Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25
I Thessalonians 4:13-18
Matthew 25:1-13
Read 'em. Pray 'em. Think about 'em. Get back to me. Comment, email or Facebook message your thoughts (you can phone it in, too, if you need another option).
I will ask the standard questions. What stands out to you? What do you see and hear in these words of Scripture?
And what are the implications for the Church (capitalized or not, however you
understand it) in this time and this nation/world?
Let me add also two bits of context. First, Old Pine is currently between pastors. The Pastor/Head of Staff recently left and no interim has been selected (though the search committee is hard at work finding one). Second, that Sunday will be Stewardship Commitment Sunday. People will come forward for the offering and deliver enveloped pledges for their weekly offering next year. There is a theme to this year's stewardship campaign, and I believe it is "Thankfulness", but I am not certain.
Ok, that's it. Thank you to all who take the time to walk this journey with me.
Update: The stewardship campaign uses the metaphor of music to express thankfulness. Here is a line from the congregational letter: "The melodies of thanksgiving and praise remind us of the certainty of God's steadfast love for us, and drown out those ghosts of fear and doubt." May that add a new harmonic theme to your thoughtful reflection.
Rather than dwelling in ever expanding comments, I thought I would keep our recent discussion going by creating a new post. However, Bill (G or #2, however we should refer to you), Bruce, and Jared please consider this post a response to your insightful words.
My respect for the work of newborn communities such as Broad Street Ministry and Mission Bay Community Church cannot be measured. They are places where the Gospel is rightly preached, heard, and practiced, I'm sure of it, though I've never worshiped at either place. Why be so sure? Because people who have been on the margins of church for too long are participating in leadership. They who climbed a tree to see or raised a roof to hear the Gospel have seen and heard and responded. I need no other proof.
Such communities are the exemplars of the teaching that filled the classrooms of Columbia Seminary. Carlos Cardoz-Orlandi talked about a vision of the church where the center heard the Gospel from the periphery. Chuck Campbell spoke about the foolish Word overthrowing the destructiveness of principalities and powers. Kathleen O'Conner urged us to stop shielding ourselves from the power of Bible texts. BSM, MBCC and a host of others are bringing this conversation to real, tangible fruition, and I do not want to denigrate their work, their journeys, their life together.
That said, I yearn for a new conversation. The next conversation. The one that stops asking if the Church or denomination can survive, stops showing us what a new Church and new communities would look like, and instead starts an earnest reformation in every church community.
Last week I was blessed with an opportunity to catch up with an old friend. Unfortunately, the conversation line was opened with an email including questions like, "Why are people telling me that I need to have faith that it was a miracle?"
The weekend before, this friend was watching a college football game at his father-in-law's land. In the middle of the game, a crop-duster thought he was going to make it safely under some power lines and ended up in a heap in the father-in-law's land. My friend, his wife and the father-in-law all raced out to the plane to see what they could do.
They were able to pull the pilot out of the wreckage and get him to the hospital in somewhat stable condition despite him having ruptured every organ in his body besides his heart. At first I thought my friend's main concern was his second thoughts about whether he and his family members (including his pregnant wife) should have entered a wreck site like that because of the possible negative after-effects. Soon, the conversation (over G-chat) ventured into the heart of the problem... theology.
He was not yet able to wrap his head around seeing the family of the pilot gather around the hospital bed and constantly saying, "I throw God's hands around him." To which his response is, "Why would they say that? They better hope a good surgeon's hands are around him." It also bothered him that they could not stop thanking God, while only the wife of the pilot could call later to thank him and his family for what they did.
The frustration continued at work where his co-workers insisted that it was a miracle from God, again ignoring the work of his wife (certified trained nurse) and the sacrifices his family went through to help the guy. The most irksome to him was his co-worker's insistence that it was the devil that caused the crash and God who came to pick up the pieces.
About that time, I was confirmed in my assumption that what my friend really needed was someone to vent to. That fact that I was also a "churchy-type" and still agreed with many of his concerns helped, but was only secondary.
Now it has left me with some discussion topics. What do we define as a "miracle." Does highly improbable by default equal a miracle? Do we actually dishonor God by directing all thanks to God and neglecting our neighbors (who very well may be agents of God's "miracle"). Are God's hands and a surgeon's hands mutually exclusive?
Please note that I've made a post hoc change to the sermon. One little line has been added based on a solid piece of constructive criticism that I got from Jared. It's funny how ten words really can make a major impact. Also note that I didn't include the very last line. It's more of a symbolic/protest kind of thing.
A nice conversation is happening in the comments to Bill's previous post. Here's where I weigh in (I wanted to do it in comments, but typepad kept puking on me, presumably because I typed too much...)
First: Who knew anyone who didn't live in Sherman between 1996 and 2003 would ever read this?
Second: To all involved in this conversation: thanks for having it.
Place: Broad Street Ministry, a not quite church, not quite non-profit, not quite compartmentalizable... [I don't have a noun for the description, so we'll call it a...] ministry in Center City Philadelphia.
The discussion featured a panel with the Revs. Bruce Reyes-Chow (PCUSA Moderator), Byron Wade (PCUSA Vice-Moderator), Bill Golderer (Broad Street Convening Minister), and Erika Funk (Broad Street Youth Initiative Minister). A powerhouse of a panel.
But the discussion was not powerhouse. There was much talk about "living into a new way of church" and "new ways of being community". There were some good lines. "People don't expect much from us [--the church--] anymore." "We are in a posture of yearning, and there is the chance that we will wander into oblivion." (These aren't exact quotes, but phrases that rang true with me.) However, if ever there was a lost cul-de-sac in the neighborhood of theological, ecclesial, or even pastoral insight, this was it.
There is no question that we live in a pretty divisive time. Every time I turn on the TV or hit up the old interwebs, I find folks trying to:
(a) Cram everyone and every opinion into a convenient little package. (b) Set those groups in some kind of diametrically oppositional framework.
Then it seems like the folks that buy into the us/them ideology start screaming at the other side.
'Heretic'
'Apostate'
'Terrorist'
'Nazi'
'Fascist'
'Racist'
All words hurled at the "other guy" in an attempt to knock her down a peg. It's become frustratingly prevalent....even to the point where I'm pleasantly surprised to find something like this. It makes me proud to be a part of a denomination where one of our leaders is this measured and articulate when dealing with folks he/she doesn't necessarily agree with.
I distinctly remember sitting in the north west corner of the balcony of Sid Richardson gym and listening intently (for those who haven't been in Sid Rich, or don't have internal compasses, the north west corner is the severe nosebleed seats.) I distinctly remember the silence in the room as he spoke. I distinctly remember the energy in the room as he finished. I distinctly remember the rhetoric: an America that delivers on it's promises - not just for those who could afford to buy them, but especially for those that couldn't. I remember the stories of his family. And most of all, I remember the hope.
Colin Powell came to campus and dropped off hope.
At least two ardent Republicans that I interact with regularly have changed their voting intentions this week, after hearing him talk. Colin Powell peddles in hope. And this week, he said this:
So, when I look at all of this and I think back to my Army career,
we've got two individuals, either one of them could be a good
president. But which is the president that we need now? Which is the
individual that serves the needs of the nation for the next period of
time? And I come to the conclusion that because of his ability to
inspire, because of the inclusive nature of his campaign, because he is
reaching out all across America, because of who he is and his
rhetorical abilities--and we have to take that into account--as well as
his substance--he has both style and substance--he has met the standard
of being a successful president, being an exceptional president. I
think he is a transformational figure. He is a new generation coming
into the world--onto the world stage, onto the American stage, and for
that reason I'll be voting for Senator Barack Obama.
While I'm not a Roman Catholic, and in truth, don't give much pause to what Roman Catholic bishops have to say, I find this to be interesting.
In particular, section 5:
5. Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship,
in paragraphs 34-37, addresses the question of whether it is morally
permissible for a Catholic to vote for a candidate who supports an intrinsic evil– even when the voter does not agree with the candidate's position on that evil. The only
moral possibilities for a Catholic to be able to vote in good
conscience for a candidate who supports this intrinsic evil are the
following:
a. If both candidates
running for office support abortion or "abortion rights," a Catholic
would be forced to then look at the other important issues and through
their vote try to limit the evil done; or,
b. If another intrinsic evil outweighs the evil of abortion. While this is sound moral reasoning, there
are no "truly grave moral" or "proportionate" reasons, singularly or
combined, that could outweigh the millions of innocent human lives that
are directly killed by legal abortion each year.
To vote for a candidate who supports the
intrinsic evil of abortion or "abortion rights" when there is a morally
acceptable alternative would be to cooperate in the evil – and, therefore, morally impermissible.
I'm particularly intrigued by the assertion that there are "no "truly grave moral" or "proportionate" reasons, singularly or
combined, that could outweigh the millions of innocent human lives that
are directly killed by legal abortion each year."
While the issue of abortion is one that I usually would rather not discuss (mostly due to my own conflicting thoughts and emotions on the issue), I can't help but find these sorts of declarations from clergy to be more frustrating than helpful.
Thanks to Jared for the little bit of nagging that was
required to get me to write this, and thanks to American Airlines for the
fancy-pants upgrade that gave my wrists the room to write. Have you ever tried working on a laptop in
coach when the dude/lady in front of you inevitably leans back? It’s like insta-wrist-cramp. Not fun.
As I’ve said before, I’ve been spending some time of late
looking at why I support Obama. I’m looking for reasons/rationale beyond the
fact that I generally support Democrats, and more importantly, I’m trying to
avoid the omni-present “Why I shouldn’t vote
for McCain” line of reasoning.
Which brings me to a brief aside….
I have yet to find anyone able of presenting me with a
coherent argument in favor of John
McCain. Every Republican-centric blog I
read, all of my conservative friends, they’ll all give you a veritable litany of reasons not to vote for Obama….but they seem light on why I should vote for McCain.
But I digress.
I don’t think there’s anyone who would be willing to argue
that our next president, McCain or Obama will be inheriting a world and a
country that is a vastly different place than it was eight years ago. While it is the general tendency of those of
us that lean to the left to blame a great deal of those struggles on the failed
Bush administration (if you’d like to argue that Bush has been a successful
president on any front, be my guest), the reality of the situation is that
there are a number of the most pressing issues of our time that our current
president had nothing (or at least little)
to do with.
Regardless of blame; rising poverty, energy crises, economic
woes, wars, terrorism, and healthcare; these are issues that our next president
will be forced to deal with on day
one, and ultimately, I think a positive resolution to some of these problems
must come due to a combination of two main roads.
First off, these issues demand the application of new,
innovative solutions. The Cold War is
over. It isn’t 1985 any more, and we
need a president with a 21st-century vision, and I can’t help but
feel that John McCain is fundamentally a 20th-centry man with 20th-century
solutions to problems. For me, I look at
Obama and I see the future. I see a
country moving forward; understanding the past, appreciating what has come
before, but fundamentally understanding that in order to succeed in the 21st
century,
America
will have to change. Notice, for
example, Obama doesn’t speak the language of economic protectionism that is so typical
of the Democratic Party. He doesn’t talk
about protecting American jobs, or bringing back the ones lost to an evermore
global economy, he talks about new jobs. Moving forward. It’s what we have to do.
The second road is related to the first. Our president must
be willing to take this nation on a path to making some fundamentally difficult
choices. As an example, the era of cheap
gas is over. Our nation has to come to grips with
this, and putting our heads in the sand and saying “drill baby drill” just
isn’t going to get it done. Our next
president must help this country
through some difficult decisions about how we live our lives relative to the
consumption of energy. New policy and
programs will be important, but those sorts of initiatives are worthless if you
can’t get the people to buy into them. Some folks might get sick of Obama’s big
speeches and some might find his rhetoric off-putting, there are those of us
that find him to be nothing short of inspiring,
and an inspirational leader who can rally the people of this nation is exactly
what we need to help us make some of these tough choices. It won’t be easy, it might not be altogether
pleasant, but in the end, the difficult choices aren’t optional if we want to
see our nation through to our children’s generation.
There you have it. Part 2.
Notice I’ve not really said anything concrete about policy,
nothing about who’s got the better healthcare plan, or the better economic
model.
I think there’s a reason to that. In my eyes, while I constantly clamor for a
discussion of the issues, for talks of policy, I think this election may be
about more than taxes, healthcare, or even the wars we are fighting. I think this election is more about the vision
for this country over the next decade or so, and to that end, I can’t help but
support the candidate that seems to have his eyes pointed toward the future
instead of the one who seems to be firmly planted in the past.
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