I'm watching World Series Game 5: Part Deux right now. I'm rooting for the Phillies, mainly because I don't want to have to listen to Joe Buck any more than I have to. He's such a terrible announcer. At least he's paired with Tim McCarver for these games, so he has someone to compete with over the world's worst announcer award. Sports announcers are so annoying sometimes. Here are some ways they (and their friends, sports columnists) butcher the English language:
1. Referring to injuries by the body part injured. Example: "Willie Parker is out with a knee." No, Willie is not out with a knee. There are 52 other guys with not one, but 2 knees, and they're not sitting out. Parker is out with a knee injury. Is it really that time consuming to add the word "injury" at the end of your sentence?
2. Keys to the game. They usually include obvious statements, like, "To win, the Chiefs must avoid penalties," or "Keys to the game for the Phillies: Get a solid pitching performance." I think generally, the keys to winning every game in every sport are the same: limit mistakes, get solid performances, and make big plays without letting your opponent make big plays. All other "keys to the game" derive from these.
3. Making up new meanings for words. In World Series Game 5: Part One, Joe Buck decided that sliding on wet infield dirt could be playfully described as hydroplaning. It was mildly witty when he used it the first time. But then he became obsessed with this word and spent 3 innings explaining any act of sliding as "hydroplaning," as if the words were interchangeable. Hey Joe, they're not. Hydroplaning is done while driving...in cars. When Jimmy Rollins slides into second, he's not hydroplaning into second...he's sliding into second.
4. Misunderstanding the meanings of words. The two most misunderstood words in sports announcing are "literally" and "infamous." Literally is now apparently a way of emphasizing and embellishing rather than describing what actually happened in reality. During the Olympics, I heard an announcer say that a diver "literally fell apart" on a poor dive. However, when she emerged from the pool, she was still in one piece. Infamous is also used in the wrong way. Most announcers (nay, most people) think infamous is just a more unusual way of saying famous. One example may be, "Andruw Jones is infamous for all his spectacular diving defensive plays in centerfield." In reality, Andruw Jones is famous for his defensive highlights. Andruw Jones is infamous for signing a huge contract with the LA Dodgers, then playing only 75 games while hitting .158. One Fifty Eight!
5. Pulling a 7-3. Paul Farmer, a medical missionary in Haiti, popularized this phrase in the book written about his work, Mountains Beyond Mountains. Farmer says a 7-3 is when someone uses 7 words when 3 will do. In Tuesday's paper, Ron Cook wrote this line about Sunday's Steelers game: "I'm not sure Holmes' absence wasn't the No. 1 reason the Steelers lost." When I have to read your sentence 3 times to fully understand your point, you no longer deserve to be a sports columnist. Why couldn't you just say this instead: "Holmes absence was the prime reason the Steelers lost." If you're not sure is wasn't, then are you sure that it was? I really can't tell. Please help me with this.
6. Talking over one another. I'm not sure this isn't the main reason why I am possibly not looking forward to the Steelers game that isn't being played on a day other than Monday, Nov. 3. I hate the MNF crew, because they are as incomprehensible as all the Sunday afternoon pregame shows. You know the premise: 3 or more guys shouting at the same time, all trying to make their point louder than the other, so that all you hear is "LOUD NOISES!" "I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE'RE YELLING ABOUT!" I'll probably mute my TV again this coming Monday.
I often say I could coach the Pittsburgh Pirates. But when it comes down to it, I'd probably do a worse job than anyone who has except Lloyd McClendon. However, when I hear announcers and read columnists, I'm usually convinced I could do their job.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
A New Kind of Love
In Jesus’ day, there were two political camps within the church. You may have heard of them: the Pharisees vs. the Sadducees. Both had strong followings; both knew they were right and the other group was wrong. It was red state vs. blue state, first century style. And as the rebellion heats up, they want to cut down the leader of this new ideology being spread. The Sadducees and Pharisees agree on at least one thing: Jesus must be taken care of. We need to turn his supporters on each other. We need to trap him and get him to say something that will divide his followers. Both try, and fail. And then, as the sun is fading on “Stump Jesus Day” at the temple, the Pharisees take one last shot at Jesus.
A hot-shot lawyer speaks up. Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest? You see, this lawyer knew that he had Jesus trapped. He was forced to choose from 613 laws: some were deemed moral laws, and others were deemed ritual laws. If he chose one type of law over another, he’d lose half of his support. But he had to choose: ritual law, or moral law?
Well, as he does time and time again in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus does not take the bait. He outplays, outwits, and outlasts these religious leaders. He says that there are not one, but two commandments that are equally the greatest. First, we must love God – ritual law. Second, we must love neighbor – moral law. The love commandments, as they are often called, are Jesus’ way of preaching a bipartisan message, one that satisfies everyone. But he does bend the rules, doesn’t he? After all, one of these things must be more important than the other.
But Jesus, in his infinite wisdom, does not cheat. In fact, what is often called the love commandments is actually but one commandment for Jesus. He yokes these two commandments together when he says the second one is like it. Here the words he uses mean that the second one is the same as the first, is equal to the first. Loving neighbor does not merely follow loving God, or turn out as the second best commandment. No, loving God and loving neighbor are one in the same commandment.
Why are these two commandments yoked together by Jesus? Why are they equal? How are they equal? Are they separate but equal? Does one take precedence over another based on the situation?
In bringing these two commandments together in this teaching moment, Jesus shows us that loving God and loving neighbor are intricately related to each other. Jesus, Son of God and Son of Man, knows that neither of these commandments are possible without the presence of the other. One cannot love God unless one loves their neighbor. And one cannot love their neighbor unless they love God. Loving God and loving neighbor are woven together so tight that it often is hard to distinguish one from the other. And it is impossible to have one without the other.
Retired United Methodist Bishop and a former professor of mine, Woodie White, once said, “Without personal holiness, there can be no social holiness. And without social holiness, there can be no personal holiness.” A profound statement by a very wise man – one of the wisest people I know. You see, Bishop White realizes that you can’t love God unless you love your neighbor. And you can’t love your neighbor unless you love God.
In order to love other people, we have to love God. Spending time in a relationship with God prepares us for loving others. It provides both purpose and foundation from which we can love our neighbors. It’s as if we are empty vessels. We love God by coming to worship on Sunday morning, by spending time in devotion and in prayer, by absorbing God’s love through all that is beautiful and true in the world, by experiencing a connection with the one who creates. We spend time loving God because it reminds us that God first loved us. Let me say that again: We spend time loving God because it reminds us that God first loved us. And when we remember this truth, we the empty vessels become filled with God’s love. We become so full that we can’t help but let love overflow with us. We can’t help but flow from our place of personal holiness – flow out into a world desperately in need of acts of love. My friends, this is why we must love God before we love other people – because we need God’s love of us to be the foundation and purpose for loving others. We need God to fill us up so that we can spread that love among our neighbors.
“Pastor,” you may ask, “how is this true? Aren’t there kind, loving people out there who have no relationship with God?” Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean that loving other people is wholly separate from loving God. In fact, when you love someone else, you love God. The very first chapter of Scripture teaches us that we humans are made in God’s image. And if we and our neighbors are made in God’s image – and we and our neighbors are – then to love our neighbor is to love God. By loving God’s creation, God’s beloved children – that is, our neighbors – we love God. We cannot help but love God when we love others. Loving others is intricately tied up with loving God. Without personal holiness, there is no social holiness.
Similarly, we cannot love God unless we love our neighbors. There’s a story of two monks traveling along a dirt road. As they came upon a large, muddy puddle stretching across the entire road, they met a woman there also traveling the road. She had stopped because she was trying to figure out a way to get across the puddle without getting her dress dirty. The two monks, as part of their religious order, were not permitted to touch women at all. It was a good rule, a rule that kept them from being tempted to be led astray from their vow of celibacy. Well, when they heard the woman’s dilemma, one of the monks picked the woman up, carried her across the puddle, dirtying his own robe, and set her down. She thanked him, and the two monks went on their way ahead of the woman.
After several hours of silence, the monk who had watched his companion break one of their sacred rules finally spoke. He said, “Brother, you know that we are not allowed to touch women. Why then did you carry that woman across the puddle back there?” He replied, “Brother, I saw a need and I met it. Back at the puddle I broke our rule of faith, but when I walked through the puddle, for the first time I truly knew what it meant to love as God loves.”
What people with puddles to cross have you encountered recently? What did you do in response? Did you hold fast to the notion that our love of God is not related to loving puddle people? Or did you let love rule the situation, finding that in loving another, you encountered God? You see, loving our neighbors, loving puddle people, is one of many ways that God provides for us to connect with God. Loving our neighbors allows us to connect with the God who breathes life into all people through the dwelling of the Holy Spirit. Just as God created everyone in God’s image, so too God breathes life into all beings. When we make real, loving connections with our brothers and sisters of the world, we experience the breath of the Holy Spirit afresh and anew.
I’ve had several people tell me that they think they don’t have to join a church to be a Christian. And you know, to an extent, that’s true. But saying that you can be a Christian without joining a community of faith is like saying I can eat 3 meals a day without using anything but my microwave. Technically, I could eat TV dinners all the time – just nuke them in my microwave. Who needs an oven? But do I really want to give up my stove or oven in favor of a microwave-only lifestyle? By giving that up, I’m giving up things I really love to eat. I’m giving up scrambled eggs and pancakes on the stove. I’m giving up cookies and cakes from the oven. I’m giving up casseroles, stir fry, pasta, and chicken – not to mention giving up all the wonderful things I could cook on the grill! The point is, I could live on only one mode of cooking rather than the full arsenal of culinary tools. But it wouldn’t give me variety, and it would limit the types of things I eat. It wouldn’t be that enjoyable. And I suppose one could live on only one mode of connecting with God – personal prayer or devotions in the comfort of one’s own home. But being a Christian without spending time loving one’s neighbors is like making all your meals with only a microwave – limited in scope and variety, and not very enjoyable. Over time, the microwaved meals feel pretty unfulfilling, pretty empty inside. Without social holiness, there can be no personal holiness.
Personal and social holiness act in a cyclical manner. Love of God and love of neighbor act in a cyclical manner. When we draw into a deeper love with God, we become transformed into people who can’t help but spread love among our neighbors. And when we act out in love, we draw closer to the God who dwells in every living thing. As we draw closer in love to God, we then become equipped to love neighbor even more. And on it goes, these two commandments mutually supporting each other in an intricate relationship.
On this interplay hangs all the law and prophets, Jesus says. The lawyer wants to know which commandment, which rule, is most important to follow. And Jesus tells him that the value of love far exceeds and far surpasses any law that we try to follow. You see, sometimes we get so caught up in our rules and regulations that we forget the greatest commandment: Love God, and love one another. We know this, but it comes up so often in Scripture because we’re in constant need of reminding. Love God, love one another. This is more important than any other thing. Love God, love one another. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
A hot-shot lawyer speaks up. Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest? You see, this lawyer knew that he had Jesus trapped. He was forced to choose from 613 laws: some were deemed moral laws, and others were deemed ritual laws. If he chose one type of law over another, he’d lose half of his support. But he had to choose: ritual law, or moral law?
Well, as he does time and time again in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus does not take the bait. He outplays, outwits, and outlasts these religious leaders. He says that there are not one, but two commandments that are equally the greatest. First, we must love God – ritual law. Second, we must love neighbor – moral law. The love commandments, as they are often called, are Jesus’ way of preaching a bipartisan message, one that satisfies everyone. But he does bend the rules, doesn’t he? After all, one of these things must be more important than the other.
But Jesus, in his infinite wisdom, does not cheat. In fact, what is often called the love commandments is actually but one commandment for Jesus. He yokes these two commandments together when he says the second one is like it. Here the words he uses mean that the second one is the same as the first, is equal to the first. Loving neighbor does not merely follow loving God, or turn out as the second best commandment. No, loving God and loving neighbor are one in the same commandment.
Why are these two commandments yoked together by Jesus? Why are they equal? How are they equal? Are they separate but equal? Does one take precedence over another based on the situation?
In bringing these two commandments together in this teaching moment, Jesus shows us that loving God and loving neighbor are intricately related to each other. Jesus, Son of God and Son of Man, knows that neither of these commandments are possible without the presence of the other. One cannot love God unless one loves their neighbor. And one cannot love their neighbor unless they love God. Loving God and loving neighbor are woven together so tight that it often is hard to distinguish one from the other. And it is impossible to have one without the other.
Retired United Methodist Bishop and a former professor of mine, Woodie White, once said, “Without personal holiness, there can be no social holiness. And without social holiness, there can be no personal holiness.” A profound statement by a very wise man – one of the wisest people I know. You see, Bishop White realizes that you can’t love God unless you love your neighbor. And you can’t love your neighbor unless you love God.
In order to love other people, we have to love God. Spending time in a relationship with God prepares us for loving others. It provides both purpose and foundation from which we can love our neighbors. It’s as if we are empty vessels. We love God by coming to worship on Sunday morning, by spending time in devotion and in prayer, by absorbing God’s love through all that is beautiful and true in the world, by experiencing a connection with the one who creates. We spend time loving God because it reminds us that God first loved us. Let me say that again: We spend time loving God because it reminds us that God first loved us. And when we remember this truth, we the empty vessels become filled with God’s love. We become so full that we can’t help but let love overflow with us. We can’t help but flow from our place of personal holiness – flow out into a world desperately in need of acts of love. My friends, this is why we must love God before we love other people – because we need God’s love of us to be the foundation and purpose for loving others. We need God to fill us up so that we can spread that love among our neighbors.
“Pastor,” you may ask, “how is this true? Aren’t there kind, loving people out there who have no relationship with God?” Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean that loving other people is wholly separate from loving God. In fact, when you love someone else, you love God. The very first chapter of Scripture teaches us that we humans are made in God’s image. And if we and our neighbors are made in God’s image – and we and our neighbors are – then to love our neighbor is to love God. By loving God’s creation, God’s beloved children – that is, our neighbors – we love God. We cannot help but love God when we love others. Loving others is intricately tied up with loving God. Without personal holiness, there is no social holiness.
Similarly, we cannot love God unless we love our neighbors. There’s a story of two monks traveling along a dirt road. As they came upon a large, muddy puddle stretching across the entire road, they met a woman there also traveling the road. She had stopped because she was trying to figure out a way to get across the puddle without getting her dress dirty. The two monks, as part of their religious order, were not permitted to touch women at all. It was a good rule, a rule that kept them from being tempted to be led astray from their vow of celibacy. Well, when they heard the woman’s dilemma, one of the monks picked the woman up, carried her across the puddle, dirtying his own robe, and set her down. She thanked him, and the two monks went on their way ahead of the woman.
After several hours of silence, the monk who had watched his companion break one of their sacred rules finally spoke. He said, “Brother, you know that we are not allowed to touch women. Why then did you carry that woman across the puddle back there?” He replied, “Brother, I saw a need and I met it. Back at the puddle I broke our rule of faith, but when I walked through the puddle, for the first time I truly knew what it meant to love as God loves.”
What people with puddles to cross have you encountered recently? What did you do in response? Did you hold fast to the notion that our love of God is not related to loving puddle people? Or did you let love rule the situation, finding that in loving another, you encountered God? You see, loving our neighbors, loving puddle people, is one of many ways that God provides for us to connect with God. Loving our neighbors allows us to connect with the God who breathes life into all people through the dwelling of the Holy Spirit. Just as God created everyone in God’s image, so too God breathes life into all beings. When we make real, loving connections with our brothers and sisters of the world, we experience the breath of the Holy Spirit afresh and anew.
I’ve had several people tell me that they think they don’t have to join a church to be a Christian. And you know, to an extent, that’s true. But saying that you can be a Christian without joining a community of faith is like saying I can eat 3 meals a day without using anything but my microwave. Technically, I could eat TV dinners all the time – just nuke them in my microwave. Who needs an oven? But do I really want to give up my stove or oven in favor of a microwave-only lifestyle? By giving that up, I’m giving up things I really love to eat. I’m giving up scrambled eggs and pancakes on the stove. I’m giving up cookies and cakes from the oven. I’m giving up casseroles, stir fry, pasta, and chicken – not to mention giving up all the wonderful things I could cook on the grill! The point is, I could live on only one mode of cooking rather than the full arsenal of culinary tools. But it wouldn’t give me variety, and it would limit the types of things I eat. It wouldn’t be that enjoyable. And I suppose one could live on only one mode of connecting with God – personal prayer or devotions in the comfort of one’s own home. But being a Christian without spending time loving one’s neighbors is like making all your meals with only a microwave – limited in scope and variety, and not very enjoyable. Over time, the microwaved meals feel pretty unfulfilling, pretty empty inside. Without social holiness, there can be no personal holiness.
Personal and social holiness act in a cyclical manner. Love of God and love of neighbor act in a cyclical manner. When we draw into a deeper love with God, we become transformed into people who can’t help but spread love among our neighbors. And when we act out in love, we draw closer to the God who dwells in every living thing. As we draw closer in love to God, we then become equipped to love neighbor even more. And on it goes, these two commandments mutually supporting each other in an intricate relationship.
On this interplay hangs all the law and prophets, Jesus says. The lawyer wants to know which commandment, which rule, is most important to follow. And Jesus tells him that the value of love far exceeds and far surpasses any law that we try to follow. You see, sometimes we get so caught up in our rules and regulations that we forget the greatest commandment: Love God, and love one another. We know this, but it comes up so often in Scripture because we’re in constant need of reminding. Love God, love one another. This is more important than any other thing. Love God, love one another. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Token Young Guy
On Thursday, it happened again. In the first meeting of a new district clergy covenant group of sorts, I was told I would be the "young voice" in the discussions. Since I'm the only person under age 40 in this group of 10 clergy, my purpose was made clear up front: to speak the perspective of youth and young adults.
The comment was meant in a positive way, but it didn't sit well with me. In these first few months of being the youngest clergy in our conference, I've been asked to speak for the younger generations. I, as one person, am constantly expected to represent a wide group of people. I often feel like the "token young guy" in groups, and it really frustrates me.
I may be a young adult, and I may have a different perspective on certain things because of this, but my age is not all that defines me. Yes, I am young, but I wish that sometimes I could just be asked my opinion as a clergyperson, not a young clergyperson.
This is not a criticism of those who look at me this way as much as it is a criticism of the way we tend to look at things. We often think diversity can be achieved if we get "token" representatives from interest groups, as long as the representatives successfully present their interest group's viewpoint. There are positive aspects to this, but we must be careful not to assume that any group of people can be said to have one unified world view. I am a young clergyperson, but I cannot speak for all young clergy. I can only speak for myself, and I hope to be treated as an individual, not a spokesperson for an entire generation of people.
The comment was meant in a positive way, but it didn't sit well with me. In these first few months of being the youngest clergy in our conference, I've been asked to speak for the younger generations. I, as one person, am constantly expected to represent a wide group of people. I often feel like the "token young guy" in groups, and it really frustrates me.
I may be a young adult, and I may have a different perspective on certain things because of this, but my age is not all that defines me. Yes, I am young, but I wish that sometimes I could just be asked my opinion as a clergyperson, not a young clergyperson.
This is not a criticism of those who look at me this way as much as it is a criticism of the way we tend to look at things. We often think diversity can be achieved if we get "token" representatives from interest groups, as long as the representatives successfully present their interest group's viewpoint. There are positive aspects to this, but we must be careful not to assume that any group of people can be said to have one unified world view. I am a young clergyperson, but I cannot speak for all young clergy. I can only speak for myself, and I hope to be treated as an individual, not a spokesperson for an entire generation of people.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Don't Worry, He's One of Us
The Episcopal Diocese of Pittsburgh just went through a nasty split. Most congregations left for the more conservative Southern Cone denomination, but some stayed with the main denomination. The congregations who stayed just selected an advisory bishop to help them search for an interim bishop. The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette ran a story on this advisory bishop, a bishop fron Virginia, and they made sure to mention that he roots for the Pirates and Steelers. Of course, you can only take advice from people who root for our local sports teams.
Yep, it's good to be home.
Yep, it's good to be home.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Organ-ic Discovery
Last week I received a call from a guy in the area who belongs to the Organ Historical Society. He wanted to look at our organ with another guy coming in from Philadelphia. The guy from around here has seen our organ before, and they're considering including our organ in their annual convention in 2010 (it'll be in Pittsburgh).
One of the first things I learned when I was appointed here was that the organ was donated in 1905 by Andrew Carnegie. Carnegie hated organized religion (it was dull, hypocritical, and divisive, in his opinion), but he absolutely LOVED the sound of pipe organs. He had organs and full-time organist in all his homes, and he donated hundreds of organs to churches across the country. When asked why he donated organs to the churches he hated, Carnegie replied, "To lesson the pain of sermons."
What I didn't know about our organ until last week is that the Organ Historical Society thinks it's the last surviving organ of its kind, an Austin tubular-pneumatic. Jim, the guy who called me, considers it "a real gem." I think he's worried we're going to rebuild it or replace it at some point. Not while I'm around, we won't.
So we'll be getting a visit in a couple weeks from these organ guys. I don't know much about organs except that I love the sound of them, but I'm looking forward to their visit so I can learn more about these wonderful instruments.
For more information about the Organ Historical Society, visit organsociety.org.
One of the first things I learned when I was appointed here was that the organ was donated in 1905 by Andrew Carnegie. Carnegie hated organized religion (it was dull, hypocritical, and divisive, in his opinion), but he absolutely LOVED the sound of pipe organs. He had organs and full-time organist in all his homes, and he donated hundreds of organs to churches across the country. When asked why he donated organs to the churches he hated, Carnegie replied, "To lesson the pain of sermons."
What I didn't know about our organ until last week is that the Organ Historical Society thinks it's the last surviving organ of its kind, an Austin tubular-pneumatic. Jim, the guy who called me, considers it "a real gem." I think he's worried we're going to rebuild it or replace it at some point. Not while I'm around, we won't.
So we'll be getting a visit in a couple weeks from these organ guys. I don't know much about organs except that I love the sound of them, but I'm looking forward to their visit so I can learn more about these wonderful instruments.
For more information about the Organ Historical Society, visit organsociety.org.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Pastoral Lessons from Paul
"We always give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in our prayers, constantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ." -- 1 Thessalonians 1:2
Paul opens his letter to the church in Thessalonica with these words, and what encouraging words they are! In this brief opening, he offers words of appreciation for the members of the community. He thanks God and prays for them. He notices the work they do and the faith, hope, and love they possess. He cares about them, he's proud of them, he is thankful for them -- he loves them. And he's making sure they know that they are loved.
I've only been a pastor for a few months, but I already know the importance of the phrase, "Thank you." Pastors are surrounded by "so great a cloud of witnesses" in their congregations, yet often all I hear is negativity from my colleagues:
"The trustees still won't fix my refrigerator."
"It's like pulling teeth to get someone to read Scripture."
"Not enough youth are coming to youth group."
"These people still don't understand they need to get off their butt and do something."
"No matter how much I visit Shut-in Sally or Nursing Home Nancy, they complain I don't visit enough."
Maybe I'm too "fresh" out of seminary to be negative and cynical. Maybe I just haven't really experienced the bad side of ministry yet. Whatever the case may be, I hope that I never allow myself to move away from this state of "freshness", a state where I am not ruled by cynicism and negativity but instead appreciate and acknowledge the great things happening in whatever congregation I serve.
Too many times, we as clergy fail to appreciate all that our laity do in our congregations. We forget to give thanks to God for them. We forget their work of faith, their labor of love, and their steadfastness of hope. We even forget to name them in our prayers. And in doing so, we fail to appreciate the work of God through them.
There's a story of a pastor who asked the trustees to replace the flooring in the entire parsonage. The trustees were unable to replace all the flooring, but did replace about half of it. Instead of thanking the trustees for the half they replaced, the pastor openly wondered why the other half wasn't done. Needless to say, the other half never got done. And can you blame the trustees for lack of motivation? They'd just been told that what they did wasn't good enough. They saw that the only work recognized is the work they did not do.
For United Methodists, Laity Sunday is this week. I hope and pray that all clergy will remember the laity in their prayers, and publicly thank them for all the work they do for the transformation of the world and the coming of the kingdom of God. Paul remembered the importance of the work of God's people, as well as the need to acknowledge it. How have we forgotten so easily?
Paul opens his letter to the church in Thessalonica with these words, and what encouraging words they are! In this brief opening, he offers words of appreciation for the members of the community. He thanks God and prays for them. He notices the work they do and the faith, hope, and love they possess. He cares about them, he's proud of them, he is thankful for them -- he loves them. And he's making sure they know that they are loved.
I've only been a pastor for a few months, but I already know the importance of the phrase, "Thank you." Pastors are surrounded by "so great a cloud of witnesses" in their congregations, yet often all I hear is negativity from my colleagues:
"The trustees still won't fix my refrigerator."
"It's like pulling teeth to get someone to read Scripture."
"Not enough youth are coming to youth group."
"These people still don't understand they need to get off their butt and do something."
"No matter how much I visit Shut-in Sally or Nursing Home Nancy, they complain I don't visit enough."
Maybe I'm too "fresh" out of seminary to be negative and cynical. Maybe I just haven't really experienced the bad side of ministry yet. Whatever the case may be, I hope that I never allow myself to move away from this state of "freshness", a state where I am not ruled by cynicism and negativity but instead appreciate and acknowledge the great things happening in whatever congregation I serve.
Too many times, we as clergy fail to appreciate all that our laity do in our congregations. We forget to give thanks to God for them. We forget their work of faith, their labor of love, and their steadfastness of hope. We even forget to name them in our prayers. And in doing so, we fail to appreciate the work of God through them.
There's a story of a pastor who asked the trustees to replace the flooring in the entire parsonage. The trustees were unable to replace all the flooring, but did replace about half of it. Instead of thanking the trustees for the half they replaced, the pastor openly wondered why the other half wasn't done. Needless to say, the other half never got done. And can you blame the trustees for lack of motivation? They'd just been told that what they did wasn't good enough. They saw that the only work recognized is the work they did not do.
For United Methodists, Laity Sunday is this week. I hope and pray that all clergy will remember the laity in their prayers, and publicly thank them for all the work they do for the transformation of the world and the coming of the kingdom of God. Paul remembered the importance of the work of God's people, as well as the need to acknowledge it. How have we forgotten so easily?
Monday, October 13, 2008
Attitude Adjustment
For many of us, these verses in Philippians sound very, very familiar. Paul writes, “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I will say rejoice!” Even now I cannot say it without getting that simple camp song in my head: “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say rejoice! Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say rejoice! Rejoice, rejoice, again I say rejoice! Rejoice, rejoice, again I say rejoice!”
“Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” I have that verse tucked away in my memory for any time I feel anxious or worried, helping me give my anxiety and worry to God in prayer so that God’s peace may come upon me.
“Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” This is yet another oft-quoted verse of scripture. In fact, the first part of it, “Whatsoever things are true”, even appears on the official seal of Northwestern University.
Three different, yet equally popular verses of Scripture, yoked together in this 4th chapter of Paul’s letter to the Philippians. And what great, encouraging verses to lean on for encouragement as we go through life. In fact, encouragement of the Christian community is Paul’s goal here in his letter to the Philippians. And it is pretty clear these are good, non-controversial verses of Scripture. Not many people – Christian or not -- would argue against rejoicing always, not worry about anything, and focusing on virtuous things. But as so often happens with popular Scripture, we have made these verses so popular that we have lost sight of the context in which they were written, and the origins of such words.
In the first part of today’s text, we hear of Euodia and Syntyche needing to be in the same mind in the Lord. It is at this point when, as Fred Craddock says, we are reminded that we’re reading someone else’s mail. This letter was written to the Philippians, who knew exactly who these people were and what the situation was. We however, do not know much about Euodia and Syntyche, or why Paul is bringing them up. We can only gather from context clues that these are two woman, probably prominent leaders in the church, who are in disagreement with each other. This disagreement is likely affecting the leadership of the church, for Paul sees it an important enough issue to address it in his letter. He urges the women to resolve the conflict at least to the point where they can move forward together in the work of the Lord. He then either appoints a mediator or appeals to a mediator already present in the church, a “loyal yokefellow”, who must help them resolve this conflict. What immediately follows is all of those well-known verses.
These verses, when placed immediately following the conflict and the appeal to a mediator, take on a new meaning. By placing them in their proper context, we see this not just as general moral teachings and words of encouragement, but a framework constructed by Paul for dealing with church conflict. Rejoice, show gentleness, don’t worry but turn to God in prayer, and focus on good, virtuous things. The church in Philippi is facing this conflict between Euodia and Syntyche, and need encouragement in the midst of this difficult time. Most importantly, Paul is wisely showing the church in Philippi, and us, that conflict can only be resolved when we set aside our desires to focus on the negative, and instead spend our time thinking about “these things”, that is the true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy things of life. Only in focusing on the virtuous things in life can we move past conflict. In other words, finger pointing and cynicism get you nowhere.
As we all know, we’re in the midst of one of the most hotly-contested political seasons. It’s a presidential election year, and many are touting this as the most important presidential election in our country’s history. I’ve never been a fan of political campaigning, mainly because from what I see, all that campaigning does is create conflict – conflict among candidates, among friends, among neighbors, among families, even among churches and among Christians. I’ve been watching the presidential and vice-presidential debates, and it seems that the only thing anyone wants to do is point the finger at what has gone wrong. Candidates love to spin their opponent’s voting record into something negative, look at the opposing party’s mistakes, and highlight all the things which will go wrong if their opponent is elected. It sickens me that there is usually more mudslinging in the debates and the TV commercials than there is presentation of one’s own platform. I guess if you break down someone else’s platform enough, you don’t have to establish your own, it seems.
I’ll be honest: I tend to consider myself an optimist. And this is why politics usually annoys me so much, because it is full of cynicism and pessimism. And in my opinion, cynicism and pessimism get you nowhere. It doesn’t lead anywhere except to misery. Paul is essentially an optimist in his letter to the Philippians. And remember, he writes optimistically and encouragingly in the midst of his current situation – sitting in prison. He writes optimistically and encouragingly to a community in the midst of conflict. And he gives the Philippians words of encouragement because he knows that in the midst of conflict, encouragement is what we need. Encouragement and positive thinking does not make us immune from the negative or difficult experiences in life, but encouragement and positive thinking guards us from cynicism and pessimism. It’s so easy to complain about all the crap, all the discouraging things in our lives and in our world. And yes, we must acknowledge that the world is not just peachy all the time. But Paul realizes that dwelling on the negative ultimately will not resolve the conflict between Euodia and Syntyche. Dwelling on the negative ultimately leads nowhere.
Some of you may have heard of or seen a movie a few years back called Van Wilder. In the movie, there is very little plot and very much immoral behavior. But despite these shortcomings, there is actually a lot of proverbial wisdom given by the main character, Van Wilder. At one point, this laid-back college student tells one of his peers, “Worrying is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you anywhere.”
This is a modern way of saying what Paul said in his letter to the Philippians. Being anxious and worrying about this conflict within the church is giving the Philippians something to do, but it won’t get them anywhere. So they need to quickly resolve the conflict and put it behind them. Otherwise they will be stuck in a very cynical, very negative place. Worrying is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you anywhere.
Now, the first advice Paul gives is not to worry, and the second is to focus on that which is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise. It’s a list of virtuous things we are to focus on so that the peace of God will be with us. But where did Paul come up with such a list?
As I studied the text this week, I really wanted to know where this list came from. Did Paul just make a list of the buzzwords of the day? Did he just write down whatever sounded good?
Actually, I found several scholars who point out that Paul is obviously borrowing from a well-known list of first century Greek virtues. Fred Craddock notes that these listed virtues in verse 8 were “the virtues extolled by the ethicists of Greek culture.” Now, the Greek ethicists were outside of the circles of Jewish and Christian faith. Their religion was ethical and philosophical study. So then, as Craddock asks, “How can persons nurtured in philosophies and [pagan] religions…embody virtues appropriate to believers in God and in Jesus Christ?” That is, how is it that non-Christians, non-religious people, can be virtuous, moral beings?
For Christians, this is often a slightly embarrassing question. We pride ourselves on our “Christian morality”, but the fact remains, as I said last week, that one can follow the moral laws of Scripture, such as the Ten Commandments, and not be a Christian.
Jonah and Betsy are good people. Jonah is an engineer, and Betsy is a textile designer. They recently married and currently reside in Chicago. Both are extremely concerned with ethics, business and otherwise, in their respective fields. If you were to visit Jonah and Betsy, you’d find that they don’t own many of what people call “the finer things” in life. They do not have a big-screen TV or the fanciest furniture, they don’t have the most luxurious cars or the biggest house. They live in a fairly modest apartment, use public transportation whenever possible so as to reduce their carbon footprint. And they are very generous people. They are considerate, loving, caring people – people you just love being around. They are generally concerned with looking on the positive side of things, and are more thankful for what they have than upset about what they don’t. Let’s review: they are extremely ethical, concerned about the environment and their own role in the preservation of it, and are not ruled by vices such as greed, envy, or cynicism.
Well, okay, they are cynical about one thing: religion. Growing up, both had extremely negative experiences with Christianity – Jonah with the Lutheran Church, Betsy with the Catholic Church. And both have been so hurt by the church that it’s unlikely they will ever consider religion to be a necessary thing in their life. They find it difficult to believe that they need religion in their lives in order to live a moral, virtuous life. And while I hope and pray that they forgive the sins of the churches that hurt them, and one day return to the Christian community, I know that they are right. They live virtuous lives, yet reject religion altogether. In fact, I can say that Jonah and Betsy live a Godly life – they just wouldn’t call it that.
Yes, a virtuous life, a moral life, is a Godly life. All that is good and virtuous in the world has God at its root. God is found in virtue – in those things that are true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy. I hate to break it to you, but we Christians have not cornered the market on virtue. It’s found outside of our bounds. Virtue is found all around what many call the “secular world” – in music, art, creation, acts of kindness, friendships – in all these things we find God. Earlier I quoted Van Wilder – a movie widely considered immoral in almost every way imaginable (and I’d agree that it is). But this secular, immoral movie still had a nugget of proverbial wisdom that is not much different than Paul’s words in Holy Scripture. My friends, we can encounter God everywhere. Our natural surroundings are pure, pleasing, excellent, and praiseworthy. The civil rights movement was true, honorable, commendable, and just – and it was not limited to Christianity or even to religion. A beautiful work of art is pure, pleasing, commendable, and praiseworthy – whether it is a painting of Christ or a painting of people sitting in a park. This morning, we prayed an opening prayer that comes from Eric Clapton, who is not a self-defined “Christian musician.” He is a classic rock legend, a man who sang songs such as “Cocaine” and “I Shot the Sheriff.” But many of his songs and songs of other “secular” artists possess deep spirituality or theology, even if they would not define it as such.
Yes, we can encounter God everywhere and in everything that it virtuous. This is what Paul’s letter shows us. We see that sometimes we can draw the good from “pagan society” and claim it as the presence of God in everything, Christian or not. We see here that perhaps the best way to resolve our own failings inside the church walls is to learn from those outside of these walls. God reaches us in many ways, including ways that we may not expect. God may even teach us virtue through people who despise organized religion. And unless we are willing to open ourselves up to such opportunities for learning, we will be just like Euodia and Syntyche, mired in cynicism and petty conflict, unable to move forward and focus on that which is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy. For in focusing on these things, we focus on the God to which all these virtues point. For where we see truth in the world, we are looking at the God who created truth. Where we see honor in the world, we are looking at the most honorable high God. Where we see justice in the world, we are looking at the God who makes justice roll down like water. Where we see purity in the world, we see the God who makes all things pure. Where we see those things that are pleasing in the world, we see the God who created pleasure. Where we see commendable acts, we see God acting in commendable ways. Where we see excellence in the world, we see God who is excellent. Where we see praiseworthy things, we are reminded that it is God whom we praise for all praiseworthy things.
Therefore, my beloved, let us go from this place and seek the virtuous life. Let us not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let our requests be made known to God. Let us rejoice in the Lord always, for it is the Lord who has created the virtue that we see all around us, and it is the Lord whom we see behind all that is good in the world. Let us go remembering that the peace of God will guard our hearts and minds, and that the God of peace will be with us. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
“Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” I have that verse tucked away in my memory for any time I feel anxious or worried, helping me give my anxiety and worry to God in prayer so that God’s peace may come upon me.
“Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” This is yet another oft-quoted verse of scripture. In fact, the first part of it, “Whatsoever things are true”, even appears on the official seal of Northwestern University.
Three different, yet equally popular verses of Scripture, yoked together in this 4th chapter of Paul’s letter to the Philippians. And what great, encouraging verses to lean on for encouragement as we go through life. In fact, encouragement of the Christian community is Paul’s goal here in his letter to the Philippians. And it is pretty clear these are good, non-controversial verses of Scripture. Not many people – Christian or not -- would argue against rejoicing always, not worry about anything, and focusing on virtuous things. But as so often happens with popular Scripture, we have made these verses so popular that we have lost sight of the context in which they were written, and the origins of such words.
In the first part of today’s text, we hear of Euodia and Syntyche needing to be in the same mind in the Lord. It is at this point when, as Fred Craddock says, we are reminded that we’re reading someone else’s mail. This letter was written to the Philippians, who knew exactly who these people were and what the situation was. We however, do not know much about Euodia and Syntyche, or why Paul is bringing them up. We can only gather from context clues that these are two woman, probably prominent leaders in the church, who are in disagreement with each other. This disagreement is likely affecting the leadership of the church, for Paul sees it an important enough issue to address it in his letter. He urges the women to resolve the conflict at least to the point where they can move forward together in the work of the Lord. He then either appoints a mediator or appeals to a mediator already present in the church, a “loyal yokefellow”, who must help them resolve this conflict. What immediately follows is all of those well-known verses.
These verses, when placed immediately following the conflict and the appeal to a mediator, take on a new meaning. By placing them in their proper context, we see this not just as general moral teachings and words of encouragement, but a framework constructed by Paul for dealing with church conflict. Rejoice, show gentleness, don’t worry but turn to God in prayer, and focus on good, virtuous things. The church in Philippi is facing this conflict between Euodia and Syntyche, and need encouragement in the midst of this difficult time. Most importantly, Paul is wisely showing the church in Philippi, and us, that conflict can only be resolved when we set aside our desires to focus on the negative, and instead spend our time thinking about “these things”, that is the true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy things of life. Only in focusing on the virtuous things in life can we move past conflict. In other words, finger pointing and cynicism get you nowhere.
As we all know, we’re in the midst of one of the most hotly-contested political seasons. It’s a presidential election year, and many are touting this as the most important presidential election in our country’s history. I’ve never been a fan of political campaigning, mainly because from what I see, all that campaigning does is create conflict – conflict among candidates, among friends, among neighbors, among families, even among churches and among Christians. I’ve been watching the presidential and vice-presidential debates, and it seems that the only thing anyone wants to do is point the finger at what has gone wrong. Candidates love to spin their opponent’s voting record into something negative, look at the opposing party’s mistakes, and highlight all the things which will go wrong if their opponent is elected. It sickens me that there is usually more mudslinging in the debates and the TV commercials than there is presentation of one’s own platform. I guess if you break down someone else’s platform enough, you don’t have to establish your own, it seems.
I’ll be honest: I tend to consider myself an optimist. And this is why politics usually annoys me so much, because it is full of cynicism and pessimism. And in my opinion, cynicism and pessimism get you nowhere. It doesn’t lead anywhere except to misery. Paul is essentially an optimist in his letter to the Philippians. And remember, he writes optimistically and encouragingly in the midst of his current situation – sitting in prison. He writes optimistically and encouragingly to a community in the midst of conflict. And he gives the Philippians words of encouragement because he knows that in the midst of conflict, encouragement is what we need. Encouragement and positive thinking does not make us immune from the negative or difficult experiences in life, but encouragement and positive thinking guards us from cynicism and pessimism. It’s so easy to complain about all the crap, all the discouraging things in our lives and in our world. And yes, we must acknowledge that the world is not just peachy all the time. But Paul realizes that dwelling on the negative ultimately will not resolve the conflict between Euodia and Syntyche. Dwelling on the negative ultimately leads nowhere.
Some of you may have heard of or seen a movie a few years back called Van Wilder. In the movie, there is very little plot and very much immoral behavior. But despite these shortcomings, there is actually a lot of proverbial wisdom given by the main character, Van Wilder. At one point, this laid-back college student tells one of his peers, “Worrying is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you anywhere.”
This is a modern way of saying what Paul said in his letter to the Philippians. Being anxious and worrying about this conflict within the church is giving the Philippians something to do, but it won’t get them anywhere. So they need to quickly resolve the conflict and put it behind them. Otherwise they will be stuck in a very cynical, very negative place. Worrying is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you anywhere.
Now, the first advice Paul gives is not to worry, and the second is to focus on that which is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise. It’s a list of virtuous things we are to focus on so that the peace of God will be with us. But where did Paul come up with such a list?
As I studied the text this week, I really wanted to know where this list came from. Did Paul just make a list of the buzzwords of the day? Did he just write down whatever sounded good?
Actually, I found several scholars who point out that Paul is obviously borrowing from a well-known list of first century Greek virtues. Fred Craddock notes that these listed virtues in verse 8 were “the virtues extolled by the ethicists of Greek culture.” Now, the Greek ethicists were outside of the circles of Jewish and Christian faith. Their religion was ethical and philosophical study. So then, as Craddock asks, “How can persons nurtured in philosophies and [pagan] religions…embody virtues appropriate to believers in God and in Jesus Christ?” That is, how is it that non-Christians, non-religious people, can be virtuous, moral beings?
For Christians, this is often a slightly embarrassing question. We pride ourselves on our “Christian morality”, but the fact remains, as I said last week, that one can follow the moral laws of Scripture, such as the Ten Commandments, and not be a Christian.
Jonah and Betsy are good people. Jonah is an engineer, and Betsy is a textile designer. They recently married and currently reside in Chicago. Both are extremely concerned with ethics, business and otherwise, in their respective fields. If you were to visit Jonah and Betsy, you’d find that they don’t own many of what people call “the finer things” in life. They do not have a big-screen TV or the fanciest furniture, they don’t have the most luxurious cars or the biggest house. They live in a fairly modest apartment, use public transportation whenever possible so as to reduce their carbon footprint. And they are very generous people. They are considerate, loving, caring people – people you just love being around. They are generally concerned with looking on the positive side of things, and are more thankful for what they have than upset about what they don’t. Let’s review: they are extremely ethical, concerned about the environment and their own role in the preservation of it, and are not ruled by vices such as greed, envy, or cynicism.
Well, okay, they are cynical about one thing: religion. Growing up, both had extremely negative experiences with Christianity – Jonah with the Lutheran Church, Betsy with the Catholic Church. And both have been so hurt by the church that it’s unlikely they will ever consider religion to be a necessary thing in their life. They find it difficult to believe that they need religion in their lives in order to live a moral, virtuous life. And while I hope and pray that they forgive the sins of the churches that hurt them, and one day return to the Christian community, I know that they are right. They live virtuous lives, yet reject religion altogether. In fact, I can say that Jonah and Betsy live a Godly life – they just wouldn’t call it that.
Yes, a virtuous life, a moral life, is a Godly life. All that is good and virtuous in the world has God at its root. God is found in virtue – in those things that are true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy. I hate to break it to you, but we Christians have not cornered the market on virtue. It’s found outside of our bounds. Virtue is found all around what many call the “secular world” – in music, art, creation, acts of kindness, friendships – in all these things we find God. Earlier I quoted Van Wilder – a movie widely considered immoral in almost every way imaginable (and I’d agree that it is). But this secular, immoral movie still had a nugget of proverbial wisdom that is not much different than Paul’s words in Holy Scripture. My friends, we can encounter God everywhere. Our natural surroundings are pure, pleasing, excellent, and praiseworthy. The civil rights movement was true, honorable, commendable, and just – and it was not limited to Christianity or even to religion. A beautiful work of art is pure, pleasing, commendable, and praiseworthy – whether it is a painting of Christ or a painting of people sitting in a park. This morning, we prayed an opening prayer that comes from Eric Clapton, who is not a self-defined “Christian musician.” He is a classic rock legend, a man who sang songs such as “Cocaine” and “I Shot the Sheriff.” But many of his songs and songs of other “secular” artists possess deep spirituality or theology, even if they would not define it as such.
Yes, we can encounter God everywhere and in everything that it virtuous. This is what Paul’s letter shows us. We see that sometimes we can draw the good from “pagan society” and claim it as the presence of God in everything, Christian or not. We see here that perhaps the best way to resolve our own failings inside the church walls is to learn from those outside of these walls. God reaches us in many ways, including ways that we may not expect. God may even teach us virtue through people who despise organized religion. And unless we are willing to open ourselves up to such opportunities for learning, we will be just like Euodia and Syntyche, mired in cynicism and petty conflict, unable to move forward and focus on that which is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy. For in focusing on these things, we focus on the God to which all these virtues point. For where we see truth in the world, we are looking at the God who created truth. Where we see honor in the world, we are looking at the most honorable high God. Where we see justice in the world, we are looking at the God who makes justice roll down like water. Where we see purity in the world, we see the God who makes all things pure. Where we see those things that are pleasing in the world, we see the God who created pleasure. Where we see commendable acts, we see God acting in commendable ways. Where we see excellence in the world, we see God who is excellent. Where we see praiseworthy things, we are reminded that it is God whom we praise for all praiseworthy things.
Therefore, my beloved, let us go from this place and seek the virtuous life. Let us not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let our requests be made known to God. Let us rejoice in the Lord always, for it is the Lord who has created the virtue that we see all around us, and it is the Lord whom we see behind all that is good in the world. Let us go remembering that the peace of God will guard our hearts and minds, and that the God of peace will be with us. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Bishop White in the House
Last night, Lisa and I traveled to First UMC of Pittsburgh for a celebration of the 40th anniversary of the General Commission on Religion and Race. Quick history lesson for those who aren't Metho-dorks like me (Lance, Ogle, and Jill, you can skip this part):
In 1968, the Methodist Episcopal Church (MEC) in the United States was divided into 5 regional jurisdictions and one racial jurisdiction (the Central Jurisdiction). Thus, we were a segregated church, with 5 essentially "white" jurisdictions and one jurisdiction of all the African-American churches. That year, the MEC and the Evangelical United Brethren Church (EUB) were talking merger, but the EUB's did not want to merge with a segregated denomination such as the MEC. There had been talk of desegregating our church, but many leaders (in both "North" and "South", mind you) kept dragging their feet on the issue. The merger with the EUB forced the issue, and we desegregated our church (in 1968!!!) by eliminating the Central Jurisdiction and reassigning the CJ churches into the existing regional jurisdictions.
Naturally, many leaders in the Central Jurisdiction feared that the elimination of their jurisdiction would diminish their voice and leadership capability in the denomination. As one way to give racial and ethnic minorities a powerful voice and maintain a high level of leadership in the denomination, the General Commission on Religion and Race was formed. The purpose of the GCORR, as stated on their Web site, is "to challenge and help the denomination’s agencies, institutions, annual (regional) conferences and congregations to achieve full, equal participation of its racial and ethnic minority constituencies in the total life and mission of the Church. The Commission strives to accomplish this task through education and advocacy and by reviewing, monitoring and supporting The United Methodist Church’s efforts to ensure racial inclusiveness and foster racial justice and reconciliation."
Now, 40 years later, we celebrate the work this Commission has done and anticipate the work it has yet to do as we struggle to become the fully inclusive church God commissioned us to be. Our service last night featured retired Bishop Woodie White, who is currently the bishop-in-residence at Candler. I had him last semester for a class on the Methodist Church and Race, and have heard him preach numerous times. And let me tell you: last night, Bishop White "brought the Word!", as we used to say at Candler after hearing any exceptional sermon.
It was a joyous occasion, one where I was able to hear one of my favorite preachers, reminisce on my journey at Candler, and worship with clergy and laity in my own conference. It was the first real "blending" of my two church lives: Candler and Western PA Conference. It reminded me of how blessed I am to have my life touched by Woodie White over the last few years, and how blessed I am to be surrounded by "so great a cloud of witnesses" in my own conference who constantly ask about how my ministry is going and offer their prayers for me and Lisa. More importantly, I am blessed to have these brothers and sisters here at home who share in the struggle for justice in all forms as we boldly step into the future.
Bishop White is awesome. There, I said it. He is a great preacher, wise professor, and just a swell guy, if I may say so. But you know why he's really awesome? Because Bishop White has the courage and the passion to serve our God, who is truly an Awesome God. And for this reason, we have hope for the future.
And for those of you wondering, of course this service was over well in time for us all to get home to watch the Steelers game. Ye of little faith, why did you doubt?
In 1968, the Methodist Episcopal Church (MEC) in the United States was divided into 5 regional jurisdictions and one racial jurisdiction (the Central Jurisdiction). Thus, we were a segregated church, with 5 essentially "white" jurisdictions and one jurisdiction of all the African-American churches. That year, the MEC and the Evangelical United Brethren Church (EUB) were talking merger, but the EUB's did not want to merge with a segregated denomination such as the MEC. There had been talk of desegregating our church, but many leaders (in both "North" and "South", mind you) kept dragging their feet on the issue. The merger with the EUB forced the issue, and we desegregated our church (in 1968!!!) by eliminating the Central Jurisdiction and reassigning the CJ churches into the existing regional jurisdictions.
Naturally, many leaders in the Central Jurisdiction feared that the elimination of their jurisdiction would diminish their voice and leadership capability in the denomination. As one way to give racial and ethnic minorities a powerful voice and maintain a high level of leadership in the denomination, the General Commission on Religion and Race was formed. The purpose of the GCORR, as stated on their Web site, is "to challenge and help the denomination’s agencies, institutions, annual (regional) conferences and congregations to achieve full, equal participation of its racial and ethnic minority constituencies in the total life and mission of the Church. The Commission strives to accomplish this task through education and advocacy and by reviewing, monitoring and supporting The United Methodist Church’s efforts to ensure racial inclusiveness and foster racial justice and reconciliation."
Now, 40 years later, we celebrate the work this Commission has done and anticipate the work it has yet to do as we struggle to become the fully inclusive church God commissioned us to be. Our service last night featured retired Bishop Woodie White, who is currently the bishop-in-residence at Candler. I had him last semester for a class on the Methodist Church and Race, and have heard him preach numerous times. And let me tell you: last night, Bishop White "brought the Word!", as we used to say at Candler after hearing any exceptional sermon.
It was a joyous occasion, one where I was able to hear one of my favorite preachers, reminisce on my journey at Candler, and worship with clergy and laity in my own conference. It was the first real "blending" of my two church lives: Candler and Western PA Conference. It reminded me of how blessed I am to have my life touched by Woodie White over the last few years, and how blessed I am to be surrounded by "so great a cloud of witnesses" in my own conference who constantly ask about how my ministry is going and offer their prayers for me and Lisa. More importantly, I am blessed to have these brothers and sisters here at home who share in the struggle for justice in all forms as we boldly step into the future.
Bishop White is awesome. There, I said it. He is a great preacher, wise professor, and just a swell guy, if I may say so. But you know why he's really awesome? Because Bishop White has the courage and the passion to serve our God, who is truly an Awesome God. And for this reason, we have hope for the future.
And for those of you wondering, of course this service was over well in time for us all to get home to watch the Steelers game. Ye of little faith, why did you doubt?
Pressing On
Week 3 of 4 in Philippians. This week: Phil. 3:4-16. Also, it was World Communion Sunday.
Johnny was a P.K.: a preacher’s kid. He grew up right next to the church where his father was pastor. His mother, Susie, raised him with strict, yet loving discipline. She read him and his nine siblings Scripture every morning and every evening. As the pastor’s family, they never missed church. Johnny eventually grew up, left home with his Bible knowledge in hand, and moved on to the finest seminary in the country. He wanted to be a pastor just like his dear old dad, so he went to study for the ministry. After that, Johnny – now going by the more mature name of “John”, became a minister. And boy, did he make his parents proud. Look at this: we’ve raised a fine young man here, walking in the light, being a good and faithful Christian since birth. He obeys the law found in Scripture, gives alms to the poor, teaches others in the way of truth – he’s a swell guy, as anyone who knows him will tell you. He even goes on mission trips overseas!
Then, at age 35, a decade after leaving seminary, John had a conversion experience. He wasn’t seeking it – remember, he was a minister. He knew where he stood with regards to religion…or so he thought. And one day, John was walking down the street and heard a guy speaking. As he got closer, he realized the man was actually reading from a book. And after listening for awhile, he discovered the book being read was commentary on one particular religion’s holy book of faith. And this son of a pastor, who had been a good person all his life, was finally converted by what he heard. Yes, on that 24th day of May, after 35 years of being a preacher’s kid, and after 10 years of being a preacher, John Wesley finally became a Christian.
John Wesley: the founder of Methodism. Born as the son of an Anglican priest, became ordained as an Anglican priest himself, yet he points to May 24th, 1738 as the day he was converted into being a Christian. His heart was strangely warmed that day, he says, and from that point on he began to preach with new vigor, new vitality. He led a movement for renewal among the Anglican church, for its worship and its ministry was not “Spirit-filled” enough. The services were dull and stuffy, so he had his brother Charles write some really kicking hymns – like the opening hymn we sang this morning. And eventually, that renewal movement led to the birth of the people called Methodists, the missionizing of the American Colonies, the establishment of the Methodist Episcopal Church, which in 1968 became what we now know as the United Methodist Church. All because John Wesley experienced Christ on a street corner in 1738.
For the last 3 weeks we’ve been looking at Paul’s letter to the Philippians. Two weeks ago we looked at chapter one, where Paul instructs us that sometimes being a Christian is difficult – sometimes it is even harder than it is to not be a Christian. Last week we talked about how being a Christian requires us to let God work in and through us. And this week, Paul continues talking about what God does for us in our lives.
Before his conversion to Christianity, Paul was a good Jew – of true Hebrew blood, a Pharisee (that is, a religious leader), and he even had a great Hebrew name: Saul. As is well-documented in the book of Acts, Paul (then known as Saul) was a persecutor of Christians. Yeah, that sounds like a bad guy, until you remember that the Christians were these crazy, upstart religious zealots wreaking havoc on the established order of religion. To put it softly, they were up to no good. And Saul was simply doing what he thought was right – defending the religious community against those who weren’t cut out for religion. Of course, he wasn’t perfect – he was probably a leader in the stoning of Stephen – but he was doing it to maintain the boundaries of religion, to keep things orderly as a way of honoring God. That is what Saul was trying to do: he was trying to honor God, even as he did things that were so obviously wrong in our eyes today.
But then Saul had his conversion experience. He encountered Christ on the road to Damascus, changed his name to Paul, and his entire value system was flipped upside down. His entire understanding of religion changed as a result of his conversion experience. And he talks about his change of perspective here in the third chapter of his letter to the Philippians.
If anyone has reason to consider themselves good, religious people, Paul has more. He’s the type of guy who really follows religious teachings to a T. Paul used to be the most righteous person you could find, in terms of human righteousness, anyway. He was righteous, that is “in good standing with God”, because as the tradition taught, he followed God’s law.
But then Paul experienced Christ, and he discovered a new type of righteousness. He discovered that righteousness by the law is only part of the equation. This morning, the Ten Commandments were read as our Old Testament lectionary text for the day. And just look at the high esteem we still place on these laws today. We still try to live our lives in accordance with these and other laws of Scripture. But what Paul realized is that being righteous according to the law, or following all the “Thou shalts” and “Thou shalt nots” only gets you so far. It only makes someone a good, upstanding, moral person. Anyone can follow these laws without actually being a Christian.
Righteousness for Saul was following the Hebrew law. Righteousness for Paul was getting knocked off his high horse and on his butt in an encounter with the Risen Christ. This is what he calls righteousness by faith, a righteousness that takes us beyond being good, moral people. It’s a righteousness that brings us face-to-face with Christ our Lord, drawing us into a “right relationship” with him. It’s a righteousness by faith, not by law. It’s a righteousness because of what Christ has done for us, rather than what we have done for Christ. John F. Kennedy famously said, “Ask not what your country can do for you, but ask what you can do for your country.” Paul, in a way, is reversing that with regards to Christ. Don’t think about what you can do for Christ, but think about what Christ has already done and continues to do for you. Don’t ask what you can do to make yourself righteous, but ask what Christ has already done to make you righteous.
Paul understands here that righteousness – being in a right relationship with God – does not come from our good behavior. It doesn’t come from following religious doctrine or Scriptural law. This does provide a structural framework for experiencing God, but following the law alone does not draw us into a true, Spirit-filled relationship with God. John Wesley preached for a decade before he really felt like he experienced Christ. And Wesley did not encounter Christ because he was doing a really good job of not murdering, honoring his father and mother, and not stealing his neighbor’s cow. And Wesley did not encounter Christ because he was seeking such an encounter. He encountered Christ because Christ sought Wesley out just as he sought Paul out. Both these men were taken aback by true encounters with the living Christ. And while they were trying to make themselves righteous by human standards, God reminded them that Christ had already made them righteous by heavenly standards.
But it doesn’t stop with one experience. Paul didn’t become a perfect Christian on the road to Damascus. And John Wesley didn’t become a perfect Christian on Aldersgate Street, where his heart was strangely warmed. For these men, their “conversion” was the beginning of a beautiful relationship with God. It was the beginning of a continuous process that Paul calls “pressing on toward the heavenly goal” and Wesley calls “striving toward perfection.” Both these men realized that a righteous life is a life full of continual conversion experiences. That is, a life of righteousness is a life of continually drawing closer to God as we let God sanctify us. It is a life where we let God knock us on our butt or strangely warm our heart so that we can experience afresh and anew what life in the Spirit really feels like. Being righteous is recognizing that Christ’s sacrifice on the cross has already made us more righteous than any of our silly religious laws can make us righteous.
As you come to the altar this morning to receive the Lord’s Supper, I hope that you’ll do so not because you think that this act will make you righteous. Instead, I hope and pray that you will come to the table because you know that Christ has already made you righteous, and that Christ seeks you so that he can knock you off your feet, warm your heart, and perfect you in the way of truth. We gather around the Lord’s table not to celebrate not our human righteousness, but the righteousness in faith that Christ offers to all. In the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, Amen.
Johnny was a P.K.: a preacher’s kid. He grew up right next to the church where his father was pastor. His mother, Susie, raised him with strict, yet loving discipline. She read him and his nine siblings Scripture every morning and every evening. As the pastor’s family, they never missed church. Johnny eventually grew up, left home with his Bible knowledge in hand, and moved on to the finest seminary in the country. He wanted to be a pastor just like his dear old dad, so he went to study for the ministry. After that, Johnny – now going by the more mature name of “John”, became a minister. And boy, did he make his parents proud. Look at this: we’ve raised a fine young man here, walking in the light, being a good and faithful Christian since birth. He obeys the law found in Scripture, gives alms to the poor, teaches others in the way of truth – he’s a swell guy, as anyone who knows him will tell you. He even goes on mission trips overseas!
Then, at age 35, a decade after leaving seminary, John had a conversion experience. He wasn’t seeking it – remember, he was a minister. He knew where he stood with regards to religion…or so he thought. And one day, John was walking down the street and heard a guy speaking. As he got closer, he realized the man was actually reading from a book. And after listening for awhile, he discovered the book being read was commentary on one particular religion’s holy book of faith. And this son of a pastor, who had been a good person all his life, was finally converted by what he heard. Yes, on that 24th day of May, after 35 years of being a preacher’s kid, and after 10 years of being a preacher, John Wesley finally became a Christian.
John Wesley: the founder of Methodism. Born as the son of an Anglican priest, became ordained as an Anglican priest himself, yet he points to May 24th, 1738 as the day he was converted into being a Christian. His heart was strangely warmed that day, he says, and from that point on he began to preach with new vigor, new vitality. He led a movement for renewal among the Anglican church, for its worship and its ministry was not “Spirit-filled” enough. The services were dull and stuffy, so he had his brother Charles write some really kicking hymns – like the opening hymn we sang this morning. And eventually, that renewal movement led to the birth of the people called Methodists, the missionizing of the American Colonies, the establishment of the Methodist Episcopal Church, which in 1968 became what we now know as the United Methodist Church. All because John Wesley experienced Christ on a street corner in 1738.
For the last 3 weeks we’ve been looking at Paul’s letter to the Philippians. Two weeks ago we looked at chapter one, where Paul instructs us that sometimes being a Christian is difficult – sometimes it is even harder than it is to not be a Christian. Last week we talked about how being a Christian requires us to let God work in and through us. And this week, Paul continues talking about what God does for us in our lives.
Before his conversion to Christianity, Paul was a good Jew – of true Hebrew blood, a Pharisee (that is, a religious leader), and he even had a great Hebrew name: Saul. As is well-documented in the book of Acts, Paul (then known as Saul) was a persecutor of Christians. Yeah, that sounds like a bad guy, until you remember that the Christians were these crazy, upstart religious zealots wreaking havoc on the established order of religion. To put it softly, they were up to no good. And Saul was simply doing what he thought was right – defending the religious community against those who weren’t cut out for religion. Of course, he wasn’t perfect – he was probably a leader in the stoning of Stephen – but he was doing it to maintain the boundaries of religion, to keep things orderly as a way of honoring God. That is what Saul was trying to do: he was trying to honor God, even as he did things that were so obviously wrong in our eyes today.
But then Saul had his conversion experience. He encountered Christ on the road to Damascus, changed his name to Paul, and his entire value system was flipped upside down. His entire understanding of religion changed as a result of his conversion experience. And he talks about his change of perspective here in the third chapter of his letter to the Philippians.
If anyone has reason to consider themselves good, religious people, Paul has more. He’s the type of guy who really follows religious teachings to a T. Paul used to be the most righteous person you could find, in terms of human righteousness, anyway. He was righteous, that is “in good standing with God”, because as the tradition taught, he followed God’s law.
But then Paul experienced Christ, and he discovered a new type of righteousness. He discovered that righteousness by the law is only part of the equation. This morning, the Ten Commandments were read as our Old Testament lectionary text for the day. And just look at the high esteem we still place on these laws today. We still try to live our lives in accordance with these and other laws of Scripture. But what Paul realized is that being righteous according to the law, or following all the “Thou shalts” and “Thou shalt nots” only gets you so far. It only makes someone a good, upstanding, moral person. Anyone can follow these laws without actually being a Christian.
Righteousness for Saul was following the Hebrew law. Righteousness for Paul was getting knocked off his high horse and on his butt in an encounter with the Risen Christ. This is what he calls righteousness by faith, a righteousness that takes us beyond being good, moral people. It’s a righteousness that brings us face-to-face with Christ our Lord, drawing us into a “right relationship” with him. It’s a righteousness by faith, not by law. It’s a righteousness because of what Christ has done for us, rather than what we have done for Christ. John F. Kennedy famously said, “Ask not what your country can do for you, but ask what you can do for your country.” Paul, in a way, is reversing that with regards to Christ. Don’t think about what you can do for Christ, but think about what Christ has already done and continues to do for you. Don’t ask what you can do to make yourself righteous, but ask what Christ has already done to make you righteous.
Paul understands here that righteousness – being in a right relationship with God – does not come from our good behavior. It doesn’t come from following religious doctrine or Scriptural law. This does provide a structural framework for experiencing God, but following the law alone does not draw us into a true, Spirit-filled relationship with God. John Wesley preached for a decade before he really felt like he experienced Christ. And Wesley did not encounter Christ because he was doing a really good job of not murdering, honoring his father and mother, and not stealing his neighbor’s cow. And Wesley did not encounter Christ because he was seeking such an encounter. He encountered Christ because Christ sought Wesley out just as he sought Paul out. Both these men were taken aback by true encounters with the living Christ. And while they were trying to make themselves righteous by human standards, God reminded them that Christ had already made them righteous by heavenly standards.
But it doesn’t stop with one experience. Paul didn’t become a perfect Christian on the road to Damascus. And John Wesley didn’t become a perfect Christian on Aldersgate Street, where his heart was strangely warmed. For these men, their “conversion” was the beginning of a beautiful relationship with God. It was the beginning of a continuous process that Paul calls “pressing on toward the heavenly goal” and Wesley calls “striving toward perfection.” Both these men realized that a righteous life is a life full of continual conversion experiences. That is, a life of righteousness is a life of continually drawing closer to God as we let God sanctify us. It is a life where we let God knock us on our butt or strangely warm our heart so that we can experience afresh and anew what life in the Spirit really feels like. Being righteous is recognizing that Christ’s sacrifice on the cross has already made us more righteous than any of our silly religious laws can make us righteous.
As you come to the altar this morning to receive the Lord’s Supper, I hope that you’ll do so not because you think that this act will make you righteous. Instead, I hope and pray that you will come to the table because you know that Christ has already made you righteous, and that Christ seeks you so that he can knock you off your feet, warm your heart, and perfect you in the way of truth. We gather around the Lord’s table not to celebrate not our human righteousness, but the righteousness in faith that Christ offers to all. In the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, Amen.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
World Communion Sunday
This Sunday is World Communion Sunday. That means our church will celebrate, along with other churches around the world, the interconnectedness of Christ's church. We will commune in our small town church as one body, but we will also commune with our brothers and sisters around the world, figuratively gathering around one table, breaking one loaf, and drinking from one cup of blessing. In honor of World Communion Sunday, I have decorated the altar with items from many countries around the world. These are all items that Lisa or I have obtained from our own travels or the travels of our friends and family. I also have multiple lapel pins representing countries from around the world -- most of them from my childhood journeys through Disney World's Epcot Center -- that I plan to wear pinned to my robe. Finally, I will use the modified liturgy found in the UM Book of Worship that was written for just such an occasion.
Our church only celebrates the sacrament of the Lord's Supper about 3-4 times a year, but I would love to move us toward more frequent communion, as per Wesley's and the UMC's request. Since we're not there yet, this Sunday will be only the second time I will preside over communion. Those who know me won't be surprised to hear that I have been eagerly anticipating this Sunday's service. All week, I've been walking around with an extra bounce in my step. The mere prospect of a communion Sunday is enough to lift my spirits for an entire week! But what is it about communion that gets me going?
Maybe it's the beauty and comfort of the communion liturgy, which has remained relatively unchanged for almost two milennia. Maybe it's the multiple meanings that communion holds for us as Christians: thanksgiving, community, remembrance of Christ's mighty acts, sacrifice, life-giving action of the Holy Spirit, and hope for the coming of Christ's kingdom. Maybe it's the chance to preside over such a sacred act in the life of the church, serving the body and blood of Christ to the body of Christ as its members kneel at the throne of grace. More than likely, it's all of these things.
The last reason, the responsibility and authority that has been bestowed on me to preside, has tremendous meaning for me as a pastor. Not just anyone can preside over the Lord's Supper, which at times seems harsh, but reminds us of the nature of clergy as "set apart." By "set apart", I do not mean this to be elitist or self-righteous, but humbly called by God to do the work of the church, including the administering of sacraments. Presiding over the table reminds me of my own call to ordained ministry. It humbles me because I know that I am terribly unqualified to serve in this capacity. It brings me to tears because in the moment of administering this sacrament, I feel more sure than at any other moment that I am called by God to dedicate my life to ordained ministry in the United Methodist Church.
For everyone, communion is meant to be an uplifting event in the life of the church. It reminds us of why we believe what we do, it centers us on the meaning of Christ's life and actions, and it connects us with the God who unites us all. It gives us a purpose for living, a purpose for loving, a purpose for serving. If we allow it, the sacrament of the Lord's Supper will provide us with an extra bounce in our step for a few weeks, days, hours, maybe even just minutes. May this be so in your life on this Sunday morning as we remember that "we, though many, throughout the earth, we are one body in this one, Lord."
Our church only celebrates the sacrament of the Lord's Supper about 3-4 times a year, but I would love to move us toward more frequent communion, as per Wesley's and the UMC's request. Since we're not there yet, this Sunday will be only the second time I will preside over communion. Those who know me won't be surprised to hear that I have been eagerly anticipating this Sunday's service. All week, I've been walking around with an extra bounce in my step. The mere prospect of a communion Sunday is enough to lift my spirits for an entire week! But what is it about communion that gets me going?
Maybe it's the beauty and comfort of the communion liturgy, which has remained relatively unchanged for almost two milennia. Maybe it's the multiple meanings that communion holds for us as Christians: thanksgiving, community, remembrance of Christ's mighty acts, sacrifice, life-giving action of the Holy Spirit, and hope for the coming of Christ's kingdom. Maybe it's the chance to preside over such a sacred act in the life of the church, serving the body and blood of Christ to the body of Christ as its members kneel at the throne of grace. More than likely, it's all of these things.
The last reason, the responsibility and authority that has been bestowed on me to preside, has tremendous meaning for me as a pastor. Not just anyone can preside over the Lord's Supper, which at times seems harsh, but reminds us of the nature of clergy as "set apart." By "set apart", I do not mean this to be elitist or self-righteous, but humbly called by God to do the work of the church, including the administering of sacraments. Presiding over the table reminds me of my own call to ordained ministry. It humbles me because I know that I am terribly unqualified to serve in this capacity. It brings me to tears because in the moment of administering this sacrament, I feel more sure than at any other moment that I am called by God to dedicate my life to ordained ministry in the United Methodist Church.
For everyone, communion is meant to be an uplifting event in the life of the church. It reminds us of why we believe what we do, it centers us on the meaning of Christ's life and actions, and it connects us with the God who unites us all. It gives us a purpose for living, a purpose for loving, a purpose for serving. If we allow it, the sacrament of the Lord's Supper will provide us with an extra bounce in our step for a few weeks, days, hours, maybe even just minutes. May this be so in your life on this Sunday morning as we remember that "we, though many, throughout the earth, we are one body in this one, Lord."
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