Was MLK a prophet?

Although the public school system, at least in my own limited experience, shies away from even admitting that Martin Luther King, Jr. was a Baptist minister, there are a great many churches that point to him a modern-day prophet. Labeling anyone as a prophet is a complicated business and has been for some thousands of years (see Deut. 13, 18). While the prophetic quality of King's message is endlessly debatable and depends more on what you bring to the analysis than the actual content of his speeches and sermons, I think a more interesting avenue to pursue is to compare King's life and work with those of the Old Testament prophets and see what correspondences, if any, exist. What one finds, I believe, is almost an exact replication of the pattern set by the likes of Ezekiel, Isaiah, Amos, Jeremiah, and Hosea and elucidated by Rabbi Abraham Heschel in his book The Prophets. Some of the distinguishing features of this pattern is a moment of call to an unsought after prophetic task, a visionary quality, a great sensitivity to evil and injustice, an engagement in the indictment of contemporary society, and a life tinged with agony.

Perhaps a more interesting line of inquiry would be into the consequences of the acceptance of modern prophecy into mainline denominations Is it possible that King's "Letter From Birmingham Jail" could be canonized as some have sought to do? What new voices would the church be opened to? How would the church incorporate these voices into its regular worship and communal life? Could it be open to such voices without causing increased denominationalism?

Jesus saves. But how?

Perhaps the most exciting theory I've learned about during my first year at HDS is the Giradian theory of atonement. Whereas most Christians understand the bumper sticker slogan "Jesus saves" to mean that "Jesus died to pay for our sins," René Girard argues that the Gospel, as a story about an entirely innocent victim, exposes the violence that forms the very foundation of human society.

His theory revolves around two principles: mimetic desire and the interconnection of violence and the sacred.

Girard understands all desire to be imitative: we don't desire objects for their own sake, we desire them because others do. As such, the people whose desire we imitate become obstacles to our obtaining the object, and thus our rivals. He suggests that if two people desire the same object there will soon be a third, then a fourth, and so on. Because desire is not for the object itself, the object is soon forgotten and what is left is only the antagonism of rivalry. With the object no longer in the picture, people cease to imitate others' desires and instead start to imitate their antagonism. Whereas before they wanted to share the same object, they now want to destroy the same enemy.

Due to this growing antipathy, an outbreak of violence occurs and an individual or group is made the arbitrary victim. After the victim's death, the group's desire for violence is suddenly appeased and peace suddenly restored. The victim comes to be understood as both the origin of the conflict and also the origin of the renewed peace. That paradox imbues the victim with a quality of sacredness. Girard argues that this process is cyclical and is at the very heart of human society.

In a survey of world myths, Girard discovered that most center on the culpability of the sacred victim and the righteousness of his or her killers. He found in the Gospels, however, a different pattern. The Gospels tell a story of an entirely blameless victim. In the accounts of Jesus' crucifixion everyone (from the disciples to Pontius Pilate) is culpable for Jesus' death BUT Jesus. The "good news," then, affirms the innocence of the victim and exposes the sacrificial means by which society maintains its equilibrium.

WHOA.

Love

One of the great leitmotifs of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s ethical and theological thought is his threefold conception of love comprising the categories of eros, philia, and agape. "Eros is a sort of aesthetic love.... Everybody has experienced eros in all of its beauty when you find some individual that is attractive to you and that you pour out all of your like and your love on that individual. Philia, however, "is a sort of intimate affection between personal friends. On this level, you like a person because that person likes you. You love on this level, because there’s something about the person you love that is likeable to you."

Of these three, agape represents highest form of love for King because it does not depend on personal preference but upon recognition of the other as a fellow child of God. It is this kind of love that is intended in Jesus's admonition to love your enemies. King explains it:

Agape is something of the understanding, creative, redemptive goodwill for all men. It is a love that seeks nothing in return. It is an overflowing love; it’s what theologians would call the love of God working in the lives of men. And when you rise to love on this level, you begin to love men, not because they are likeable, but be cause God loves them. You look at every man, and you love him because you know God loves him. And he might be the worst.

Which is funnier?

The original:

NOM Gathering Storm - The most amazing bloopers are here

Or the parody?:

Oy Vey

Although it is not my main reason for entering the ministry, I have to admit that having only one day of actual work a week (and that for 2 hours) is certainly an added perk of the job. That being said however, when one becomes accustomed to such a light workload it is all the more jarring when one is confronted with a week heavily laden with all sorts of services. I am now learning that Holy Week is to a minister what tax season is to an accountant.

In this coming week my church will be putting on a tenebraé service for Maundy Thursday, a Taizé/labyrinth-walking service for Good Friday, and two pretty standard worship services on Easter Sunday. Although I am only doing readings for the Maundy Thursday service and one of the Easter services, I have a lead role in putting together the Good Friday service and am completely in charge of one of the Easter services. It wouldn't be so bad I suppose except that because these are the "High Holy Days" of the Christian year, church attendance will be way up and we have to put on a crazy good showing or else risk turning the twice-a-year churchgoers off from coming even as little as they already do. Let us all pray that I don't say anything too blasphemous. 

Latest Sermon

Here is the link to my latest sermon (to be preached tomorrow):

Copyright. Wrong!

I am off to practice more. I'll let you know how it goes.

Style

I found this video while I was randomly looking up sermons on youtube and was overjoyed to find a black preacher whose style could actually be used in a predominately white, UCC church. This guy is just cool. He has serious style and serious class. So much so in fact that I, true to preacherly form, "borrowed" his opening routine for a pastoral prayer I did two weeks ago.

Here is the clip:



And here is my prayer:
Oh eternal loving God.

We join together today in this house of prayer because you have sustained us and ordained and appointed it to be so.

You have sustained us in our waking this morning, sustained us that we had clothes to put on our backs, sustained us that we had the energy and the will to travel to this place. Truly Lord you have brought us from a long way and willed this moment into being. We know you didn’t have to do it, but we know that you chose to and did do it.

And because you have chosen to sustain us, we can fully and heartfully understand the words of the psalmist, “I rejoiced when they said unto me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’”

You have given us our very being sovereign God and it is cause for much rejoice. But in our being you have endowed us with freedom, freedom that we too often waste in jealousy, in hate, in greed, and in anger. We lift up to you today all the pain and grief caused by these sins we commit one against another and we pray for the strength to free ourselves from these shackles with which we bind ourselves.

We pray likewise for all the sorrows and concerns of our community today.
We lift up to you all in our lives that falls short of the future glory you’ve promised us and for which we continue to strive. Through hardship and trouble, through pain and through fear Lord we struggle but we know we do so with the vision of a better world and a better humanity you provided us through Jesus the Christ.

And so dearest God, we thank you, we praise your holy name today, and pray to you in the name of your beloved son, Jesus the Christ. AMEN.

Sermon #3 - Humanity Overcome

The study of psychology tells us that our recall of a story or event revolves entirely around its climax. The climax acts as a mental peg on which we hang our recollection (Sadoski, 2001). Ours minds are tuned to remember first the key features of a story and then just to fill in the blanks from there. What this feature of our psychology means for us today is that if we ended the service at this very moment - which we're not gonna do - all that you would be likely to remember from today's passage is that Jesus performed a miraculous healing of a leper. That's the climax after all: Jesus cures the incurable. Like I said, it's very natural for us to to focus on the more exciting or interesting parts of a story. But to focus on these more dramatic aspects of today's scripture reading, I believe, is to miss its actual point. The good news of the story is not located in the performing of a miracle, but in the short exchange that precedes it.

Our passage begins with the leper coming up to Jesus, and saying to him, "If you are willing, you can make me clean." The Greek verb form used in this passage tells us that there is no sense of presumption in the leper's question as to whether Jesus will heal him or not. He did not come demanding a miracle. In fact, as a leper, he had no right to demand much of anything. At the time lepers were treated as the living dead. As if having a disease which deforms the body, eventually rendering the carrier unrecognizable, as if that wasn't enough, the social stigma attached to leprosy was perhaps worse. The Levitical code called for lepers to keep their clothes torn, their hair unkempt, and to live in isolation, cut off from all social interaction, even with their families. The code further demanded that when a stranger approached, a leper was to call out, "Unclean! unclean!" to warn of his or her presence.

So this leper undoubtedly went to Jesus with no expectations - his very existence was a lesson in rejection and disappointment. He perhaps had heard rumors of a healer and teacher traveling throughout Galilee casting out unclean spirits and preaching in the synagogues. He likely went to Jesus on the very off chance that this healer would even deign to come near to him. We can imagine the leper's shock when, upon his approach, he yelled "Unclean! Unclean!" and Jesus and his disciples did not run away / but stood unmoved. We can imagine the internal struggle going on in the leper's heart as he tried to fend off a sense of elation and a hunger for restoration, feelings that he was likely well practiced at extinguishing but were coming to surface because of the unlikelihood of the situation in which the he found himself. We can imagine the leper was even more surprised as he made his way up to the group, maybe his first human contact in years, to find the disciples not preparing to accost or assault him, but parting so that he could present himself to their leader. 

So overwhelmed was the leper at the situation unfolding before him that the Gospel reports him dropping to his knees before Jesus. The leper knew there was something different about this man, a man who would disobey even the most stringent purity laws by allowing a ritually unclean person into his presence. The leper knew something was up and this understanding is reflected in his words because the leper says, "If you are willing, you can make me clean." The question was not "Jesus, can you heal me?" The question was "Jesus will you heal me?" The question was not one inquiring into Jesus' ability but into his volition. In essence the leper was saying, " I know you have the power Jesus, but do you have the desire." "I know you have the ability to heal me Jesus, but do you have the empathy." "I know you have the capacity to make me whole again Jesus, but the question is do you have the compassion?"

The leper presents Jesus with a choice: Jesus can choose either heal him or choose not to. But when we read about these kinds of stories in the Gospels, these times when Jesus is confronted with the sick, the afflicted, the outcast and other, we don't think about him actually having to make a choice - we just expect him to do the right thing, to do the Godly thing. We like to imagine that these acts of mercy and love were no-brainers for Jesus. That when he saw an outcast, he knew he should should comfort that person, that when he came across a person who the the world said was lesser, that he knew should lift that person up. But it seems the leper had none of the same expectations that we do. The leper understood quite clearly what we oftentimes forget today - Jesus was a human. To suggest that Jesus knew instinctively what was right in all these situations is to deny him his human nature. Author Paulo Coelho suggests that Jesus only felt his divine nature in his heart because if he knew intellectually, if he was absolutely sure that he was divine then Jesus couldn't have been truly human. Being truly human is to live in doubt and uncertainy. Being truly human is to be unsure about our actions and our decisions. 

I submit to you the situations that Jesus encountered were anything but self-evident. Jesus had lived his entire 27 years in the same culture that had condemned this leper to a life of poverty and denied him of his very personhood. Jesus was very much a product of this culture. Had Jesus allowed this culture define him completely and had he conformed to the strict rules of 1st century Israelite society, he would never have even allowed this man within 100 feet of him. We see Jesus had already come over much of the social and cultural conditioning that we rarely do. But before he could perform the work of mercy and of love attested that forms the climax of our story, Jesus had to overcome everything his culture, his society, and indeed everything that humanity had taught him was right. He had to get over what his humanity told him was right so that he could do what was right in the eyes of God.  

Notice Jesus' reaction to the leper. His reply isn't just a knee-jerk response. If it was he most likely would have shuddered and run away - leprosy is not a pretty thing. Instead his reaction is twofold. Mark reports that before answering the man, before making his choice as to whether he would heal him or not, Jesus was first moved with compassion. The first part of his response was inward not outward. Before making his choice Jesus allowed compassion to work over his heart and OVER his humanity. Once his heart had steeped in compassion, then and only then could Jesus see past and through his human nature and act in his divinity. Once his heart had been thoroughly immersed in compassion THEN Jesus could say to the leper, "I AM willing." These are beautiful words. "I AM willing." Where the rest of the world had said I am not, Jesus acted in compassion and said I am - and healing, restoration, and wholeness were made to flow over the leper.

We must ask of ourselves too what kinds of healing, restoration and wholeness would manifest around us if we were to incorporate Jesus' two-part response to this leper into in our own lives. What if as a precondition to all of our decisions and all of our choices we allowed our own hearts to be moved with compassion. I'm not talking about just big decisions either, I'm talking about the small, mundane choices of everyday life too. Life isn't always going to just drop a bloodied up body in front of us so we can play Good Samaritan. Everyday of our lives we are confronted with hundreds of tiny decisions that, were we to approach them with a compassionate heart, would very much change the world in which we live for the better.

What if in our relations with our coworkers, our friends, and our family  - before we said the crass, callous, and hurtful things that we are, or at least I am,  prone to say - before we said all that what if we let compassion have its way with our hearts. Would our humanity be overcome and instead of hurting the ones we love would our relations flourish with new fullness and new wholeness?

What if before we went shopping we let ourselves be moved compassion - would we patronize stores like Wal-mart who refuse their workers a living wage or would we forgo our gallons of pickles and mountains of paper goods and instead support businesses with upright practices that seek not just financial gain but also to build up and give back to our communities? 

What if our preachers, before getting up into the pulpit would let their hearts be moved by compassion - would we have as many churches as we do fostering hate and homophobia or would we hear from our pulpits preaching that affirms our common identity as God's children above and against the sins of greed, gluttony and intolerance that threaten to tear us apart?

 

What if the leaders of the world's nations, before declaring war on other countries, first let compassion work over their hearts - would so many lives throughout the world be continually lost in ego driven battles or would we fight to the bitter end for the peaceable resolution of our conflicts?

Each of us, young and old, black and white, rich and poor, mighty and meek, are all confronted with opportunities to act with compassion and usher healing into an often fractured and hurting world. Like the question put before Jesus by the leper, The question facing us today is not, "Are you able?" The question is "Are you willing?" I want you to look at your neighbor and say, "Neighbor, are you willing?" Because if you are willing, if the world is willing, one day once and for all love will triumph over hate, acceptance over intolerance, peace over war, generosity over greed. And on that day our humanity will be overcome. 

A Favorite Prayer

Breathe into Me the Courage to Make Something New

by Ted Loder

Thank you for all we forget are gifts, 
        not rights. 
Forgive us for all the grievances 
        we remember too well. 
Save us from the self-pity, 
        the self-seeking,
                the fat-heartedness
                       which is true poverty.
Guide us, if we're willing,
        (drive me if I'm not),
                into the hard ways of sacrifice
                       which are just and loving.
Make us wide-eyed for beauty,
        and for our neighbor's' need and goodness;
wide-willed for peace-making,
        and for the confronting power
                with the call to compassion;
wide-hearted for love
        and for the unloved,
                who are the hardest to touch
                        and need it the most.

Dull the envy in us
        which criticizes and complains life
                into a thousand ugly bits.
Keep us honest and tender enough to heal,
        tough enough to be healed of our hypocrisies.
Match our appetite for privilege
        with the stomach for commitment.
Teach us the great cost of paying attention
        that, naked to the dazzle of your back as you pass,
                 we may know we are always on holy ground.
Breathe into us the restlessness and courage
        to make something new,
                something saving,
                        and something true
that we may understand what it is to rejoice.

 

 

Inaugural Prayers

Before discussing the inaugural prayers of invocation and benediction, I would like to take a moment to thank Rick Warren for his great courage in standing up to the great threat posed to families, kittens, and democracy by homosexuality. Verily, he is a man who knows an abomination when he sees one. In the true spirit of Jesus he has chosen hate over love and intolerance over acceptance. I personally can think of no one I would rather have representing American Christianity to the world than he. 

Furthermore, on behalf of white preachers everywhere, a community long characterized as inarticulate in word and bland in delivery, I would like to thank Mr. Warren for not being at all dull or uninspiring and for using a tone entirely appropriate to the gravitas of the historic moment the inauguration represented. 

That is enough from me - I could go on about how amazing this guy is all day. Without further ado, I present to you Rev. Rick Warren of Saddleback Church in California delivering the prayer of invocation at President Obama's inauguration: 



Little needs to be said about the benediction. The Right Rev. Dr. Joseph Lowery is simply not a person of note. Sure, he loitered about with that Martin Luther King Jr. fellow. Sure, he was was a lead orchestrater of the Montgomery Bus Boycott. But seriously, civil rights - so cliche. Who wants justice and compassion when you could be hating on homosexuals? Not I, for one. Also, what's up with his words being all poetic and the cadence of his speech being pleasing to the human ear. Nancy boy. My fellow white preachers, DO NOT TRY TO PRAY LIKE THIS GUY. It will be the end of your career.

Here he is:

One Down, Five to Go

After a good deal of study and an even greater deal of worry, my first semester at Harvard drew to a close this past Wednesday with a 3-hour Japanese test and the handing in of a 15-page paper analyzing the connection between churches' definitions of community their levels of social engagement (it was as interesting as it sounds, I assure you). Although these 6 days off will be relaxing, we jump right back into classes next Wednesday so I've been spending many an hour poring over the course listings. My schedule thus far is shaping up to be pretty packed:

Theories and Methods in the Study of Religion (mandatory)

This course, required of all first-year MDiv students but open to all, serves as an introduction to various approaches to the academic study of religion, from the anthropological and sociological to the philosophical and theological. May only be taken for a letter grade.

Christianity: The Liturgical Year

An introduction to Christianity by way of its liturgical calendar, from Advent through Pentecost and Ordinary Time, including biblical foundations, historical development, and contemporary theological, cultural, and artistic reflection on the annual pattern of Christian life.

The Apostle Paul: His Letters, His Cities, and His Legacy

The course addresses the entire Pauline Corpus. Beginning with the genuine letters of Paul in the New Testament it will demonstrate the developments attested in canonical and apocryphal writings that assumed the mantle of Paul's authority after his death. Archaeological materials will elucidate the cultural and religious world of Paul's cities.

Meaning Making

This course is designed for students currently in a field education setting and focuses on exploring the theological dimensions of students' field education experience.

The Ethical and Religious Thought of Martin Luther King, Jr.

A study of the life, thought, and actions of Martin Luther King, Jr. An ethical analysis of his primary concepts, ideas, and strategies based upon a reading and discussion of his writings and their sources.

Advanced Japanese

Having written that out for the first time I must say it looks more than a little bit daunting. Perhaps I should just altogether give up the hope of having a social life alongside my studies. 

God is good.

The Advent of Hope (Sermon #2)

Good morning, friends. I know, I know, I can’t believe it either. They let me back up here again. Just when you thought it was safe to come back to church. 

But, we gather together this morning on the second Sunday of the Advent season. For us Christians, Advent is a season of great hope. In it’s etymology, the word advent is derived from the Latin adventus, meaning arrival. Each consecutive Sunday brings with it a greater sense of hope than the last as we come nearer and nearer to Christmas day when we commemorate the arrival of our savior 2000 years ago and celebrate in hope his promise to arrive again. And on this morning of the second Sunday of Advent I would like to talk in depth about our conception of hope. It seems to me that with our economy in utter turmoil, with America’s sons and daughters dying on foreign soil in a war that is far from over, and our day to day lives filled with struggles both big and small, hope is something we need to talk about more often. 

 

After 21 months of stump speeches you may be surprised to find that hope is not a thing reserved solely for political campaigns for presidency. You may also be surprised to find, as I know I was, that our beloved President-elect Mr. Barack Obama is not the inventor of the notion of hope. In fact, as a professed Christian in general and a United Church of Christ-er in particular, Mr. Obama is heir to a tradition steeped in hope all the way back to its roots in ancient Israel. If nothing else, we Christians are a hopeful people. 

However, in the course of his campaigning Mr. Obama bandied the word hope about as if it was in need of no further definition. I take issue with this. Hope, if left undefined, can easily become confused and conflated with words like wish, dream, or aspire. Hope, hope is different. It has added dimensions, added layers – it is a good deal more complex. Gustavo Gutierrez, a Peruvian priest and social activist, defines hope as a not-yet-consciousness that seeks to be made manifest in the future through human action in the present. Let me run that by you one more time. Hope is a not-yet-consciousness that seeks to be made manifest in the future though human action in the present.

Let me tell you a story to illustrate what he means by this. There is ship halfway through its journey from Morocco to Miami in the middle on the Atlantic Ocean. The trip is going smoothly, the coast is clear as they say, when all of the sudden a storm system moves in from the west trapping the ship and its crew near the northern edge of the storm. The ship is being tossed about in the brutal fury of the sea. The crew knows that if they don’t do something to get out the storm they will perish beneath the frigid waves of the mid-Atlantic but they are so disoriented they don't know where to begin. Then in a crack in the clouds the captain spies the North Star, and visions of the calm sea beyond the northern edge of the storm fill his mind. What does the captain do? He is the captain so of course he spurs his crew to action by ordering them to batten down the hatches, to man the rudder, and to pump out the bilge and to shiver me timbers, whatever that may mean. The crew springs to life, taking all the actions necessary to propel their ship through the storm and into the safety of the north, where eventually they arrive, shaken, but unscathed.

Now, where was the hope in this situation? According to Gutierrez, the hope is not located in the sighting of the North Star alone, nor in the calm seas it represented. Nor was the hope singularly located in the exertions of crew. Rather, the hope is located in the synergy that occurred when the vision of the calm sea met with the action necessary to get there. That is to say, where the crew’s not-yet consciousness met with the corresponding action necessary to make it happen, there was  hope. In the specifically Christian sense, hope usually arises in recognition of some aspect of God’s goodness not yet fulfilled in our lives. As faithful believers we are called to hopeful action to bring that goodness about. It is just this kind of active, lively get-up-and-do-something, God-inspired hope that we see in today’s scripture reading. Enter John the Baptist. John is introduced to us as an ascetic who lives in the wilderness, who eats only locusts and honey, and who wears only a loincloth of camel hair and a leather belt. Although, I have no personal experience wearing one myself Rev. O’Brien informs me that they chafe a great deal – adding the perfect complement to John’s already uncomfortable lifestyle. Brother John was obviously not one to be concerned with material comfort. Rather, he awaited with great longing the coming of the messiah who had been prophesied about for generations. A messiah that would rescue the Jews from the oppression of the Roman occupation of their lands / and usher in an age of prosperity for the Israelites. John understood with great clarity that waiting was not enough. John, the paragon of hope that he was, realized that his longing for the messiah called for immediate action in the present to make that which was not-yet come to be. And so it was that John cast off all worldly comfort and went out to the Jordan preaching and cleansing the hearts of men, women, and children through water baptism, making straight the path for the coming messiah.

And in talking about John the Baptist’s ministry we encounter one more property of hope that I didn’t bring up before, but deserves mention; that is, to co-opt Mr. Obama’s descriptor, the utter audacity of Christian hope. We often find ourselves surrounded by seemingly insurmountable evils and obstacles in our lives. And even when the deck is seemingly stacked against us, even when nothing in life seems to be going in our favor, we as Christians have the unrelenting audaciousness to envision a future much brighter and much Godlier than our present condition. 

John preached of the coming messiah but he did not know, however, when this messiah would come or what this messiah would even look like. To the best of our knowledge, John didn’t even know who Jesus was. Although the Gospel of Luke asserts that John is in fact Jesus’ cousin, most scholarship indicates that this relationship is, in the words of one, actually kind of pretentious, theologian, “of dubious historicity.” That is to say, John and Jesus were probably not related at all. Moreover, John the Baptist was certainly not aware that he was the “one crying in the wilderness” of whom Isaiah spoke. We know this only because in his gospel Mark has woven these strands of history together for us. Isn’t hindsight a wonderful thing? We know what’s going to happen in verse 9: Jesus is going to show up at the banks of the River Jordan wanting to be baptized by John. But poor John living out verse 8 / didn’t have a clue. John had no visible, no tangible reason to expect that his ministry could actually help pave the way for the coming messiah. The Israelites had lived under Roman rule for over a century and had no reason to expect it to end anytime soon. Rather, John’s ministry sprung forth as a necessary component of an absolutely audacious hope that recognized a goodness not yet fulfilled in the world for which he strived to help bring about. Not knowing if he would even see it in his lifetime. Not knowing if his actions would even be effectual. John the Baptist believed against all logic and rationality that he could overcome his present condition and take action to aid the future fulfillment of a messiah, who, as it would turn out, would provide the world with hope for generations to come. 

But it is often the case nowadays that our hope is maligned by society as naïve, as childish. We live in a world that is critical of religiosity of any sort and wants to hear little of a hope animated by the good that God intends for our lives. There is a famous critique of religion by the philosopher Karl Marx that gets quoted all the time, especially on college campuses / especially toward upstanding young men who come out saying that they want to be preachers / (not that I’m bitter… OK maybe a little). But you’ve all probably heard this quote before: “Religion is the opiate of the masses.” If I understand this quotation correctly, we stand accused of being pacified by our religion even when surrounded by manifold injustice and evil in our lives. If I understand this quotation correctly, we stand accused of being so focused on the otherworldly that we are rendered unable to function in our present reality. If I understand this quotation correctly, I would say that the role of hope in our Christianity is being completely mis-understood. 

Pithy as it may be this quote does not take into account the action that so defines our hope as Christians, action that can be attested to by biblical and also by historical witness. I want to take you back now if you’ll join me. I want to go way back, way back to the captivity of the Jews in ancient Egypt. Slaves to the Egyptians for 430 years, the Israelites were oppressed, mistreated and forced to do labor under pharaoh’s regime. They had very little going for them, nothing really to live for, their day-to-day was filled with pain, sorrow, and punishment. But then God appeared to Moses in a burning bush and told Moses that God had heard the Israelites’ cries, was concerned about their suffering, and would set them free. Upon learning of this goodness that God intended for them, the captive Jews did not sit and wait for their freedom to happen unto them. It was the Jews who hoped for their freedom from Egyptian bondage who got themselves to their feet in the middle of the night and headed for their homeland, trying to make that goodness which was not-yet, come to be. Theirs was not a passive hope, as Marx would like you to think. It was a 600,000 person, mass exodus, Red-Sea parting kind of hope. 

Let’s fast-forward now a few millennia to the 17th century at the beginning of the slave trade in America. After being captured in their homelands Africans were forced into ships with room only to sit, were beaten and were starved for months on end. If they survived the cruelty of the Middle Passage they were put on an auction block and sold into slavery not as humans but as property. And then, after being sold, in an attempt to “civilize” them, and I use the word civilize in the most ironic sense possible, they were forced to convert to Christianity and were preached a most pernicious version of the gospel that quoted over and over Ephesians 6:5, “Slaves obey your earthly masters with respect and fear.” And yet, the stories they heard were not the same ones being preached to them. Because in this Christianity they found a Jesus that gave them hope that their present condition was not as God intended and that God had goodness in store for God’s children. And so theirs was not a passive hope. It was an Underground Railroad kind of hope. It was a Civil War fighting kind of hope. And after much struggle and bloodshed when they eventually gained their freedom only to find themselves confronted with the evils of Jim Crow and segregation their hope did not turn did turn into a docile, whimpering kind of hope it remained a Rosa Parks white-only seat sitting, Montgomery bus-boycotting, nonviolent protest marching kind of hope. 

We continue to engage in this active Christian hope even today. Everyday of our lives we bear witness to people struggling with debt, people in relationships that do not honor their personhood, people fighting drug and alcohol addictions, people fighting evils of all sorts who do not lay down to die but rise to the challenge and effect change in their lives because they hope to move beyond the present into the goodness that God holds for them.

So in short what I’m saying is that religion is NOT the opiate of the masses and most certainly not of the Christian masses. Our hope as Christians is the great motivator of goodness in our lives and our world. As you go forth from this place today, please keep in mind that you are an essential participant in the process of hope that is embodied in this season of Advent and that the goodness that God holds for you is not just to be waited for but is to be acknowledged and to be strived for, trusting that ours is a good God and that we are loved. Amen.

Tom Loves the Little Children

No, you freaking pervert. I do not like little children in the Catholic Priest sense. 

I mean instead that this past Sunday I was bestowed with the  job of giving the children's sermon. After having heard horror story after horror story of the misdeeds of the youngsters as they gather around (read: gang up on) their beloved pastor (read: cursed play toy) during this special time (read: absence of God's love) I have actively avoided doing being saddled with the responsibility by demonstrating great eagerness in doing everything else BUT it. 

I am sad to report, however, that the head pastor's father passed away unexpectedly last week and he consequently had to be out of town and would be unable to give his sermon. SOOOO... the assistant pastor had one day to come up with a sermon on a theologically weighty passage and in order to ease her burden I took on the children's sermon.

The experience went smashingly well, mainly because we did not allow the children to come to the front to abuse me in ways that only small children can. Rather I walked down the center aisle and addressed with the safety of a few feet of wooden pews between us. 

The sermon itself made use of what I call "pastoral fiction." Basically, I made up a story to make a point. Here is text:

This morning I want to tell you about my Aunt Gladys. My Aunt Gladys was a tiny woman, about this big, had big round glasses like this and she always had a big frown on her face. Have you ever seen an iguana? Yeah, she kinda looked like that. Aunt Gladys lived out of state so I didn’t see her much. But EVERY Thanksgiving she came to our house for Thanksgiving dinner. And on the night before EVERY Thanksgiving I used to get down on my knees next to my bed and I would pray. I would say, “God I thank you for my family. I thank you for giving me Thursday and Friday OFF from school. I thank you for all the yummy food I’m going to get to eat tomorrow. Oh, and God, I have a request. Please, please, please don’t let Aunt Gladys sit next to me tomorrow.”

You see Aunt Gladys was like the Grinch who stole Thanksgiving. "Tommy sit up straight. Tommy, straighten your tie. Tommy, don’t eat so fast. Tommy, don’t talk with your mouthful. Tommy, eat your vegetables."

I was thankful for many things, but not for Aunt Gladys. What I didn’t understand was that Aunt Gladys loved me. She loved me soooooo soooooo much that she wanted me to grow up to be polit and have good manners. I'm not sure if she was too successful, though.

Maybe some of you have relatives like my Aunt Gladys and I know it may be very, very, very hard, but lets try to thankful for them this year. This Thanksgiving when we say our prayers, let’s thank God for loving relatives like Aunt Gladys. Wanna practice? Let’s try:

“Dear God. Thanks you so much for our families. Thanks you so much for all the yummy food we are going to get to eat on Thanksgiving. Thank you for giving us Thursday and Friday off from school. That's pretty cool god. And God, thank you also for relatives like Aunt Gladys who love us even though its sometimes hard to see. AMEN.” 

I thought the name Gladys would signal to the non-adolescent members of my church that the story was made up, but the comments I received afterward would indicate otherwise and make me feel like a liar.

I was also informed during the passing of the peace directly after that in this neck of the woods they pronounce it "ont" and not "ant."

I dun reckon these is mighty fancy folk.

Sermon

After many hours of writing, practice, and prayer, I at last had the opportunity to preach my first sermon to the congregation at the church where I'm interning - just a few hours ago in fact. The sermon was a beefed up and sexyified remake of the social gospel sermon I posted about a month ago. What I intended for it to be was an affirmation of the church's social outreach and a call to further action. I am left now only to hope that that's how it went over. All in all I suppose the the delivery and response wasn't too bad – we laughed, we cried, and only one person fell asleep. 

But now thinking it over, how absurd is it that a young preacher (50 years younger than the average parishioner) would pick a verse from one of the most provocative books in the Bible (Isaiah) and more or less tell people they need to get off their arses and do something for other people? Though of course it was not couched in those terms exactly, it is still a fairly audacious thing to do. And I did it and am now have mixed feelings over it. No one seemed outrightly offended. There remains, I guess, the distinct possibility that they weren't listening. 

Time will make their opinion known, I can be sure at very least of that. It usually takes about a week of ringing phones and commentary (a.k.a. gossip)  for a general consensus to be made in any congregation. Come next Sunday, if I am still allowed back, I will know I have a favorable verdict. 

Here's hoping.

Preach it!

My God, my God, my God is good.

This week brought with it the first day in a long long series of days (2,847) where I can truly say I am proud to be an American.

Regardless of your party affiliation, President Obama knows how to give a nice little speech.

Let us observe greatness:



AMEN.

UCC Conference

This past weekend I attended a statewide conference of the UCC in Worcester (pronounced: WUSS • tah), MA. It was indeed an excellent opportunity to see the inner workings of my denomination and get a grasp of the denominational move toward a process of "congregational discernment" for decision making (as opposed to using the Robert's Rules of Order), but it also left me a little bit anxious about the future of the church. 

You see, of the 600 some people gathered in that sacred space, I was the youngest by about 40 years. In fact, in the keynote address on the first evening, the speaker posed the following question to the crowd: 

"Did your children ever watch that television show Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?"

!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

No!!!! I MYSELF watched the show and owned and played with a great many of their action figures, thank you very much.

If the crowd had been more honest, however, I would not have been alone in my negative response. Given the demographics of the audience I would suspect that most of their children grew up watching Andy Griffith in black and white and that their GRANDCHILDREN were the ones who watched TMNT. 

That just goes to show that you can't trust church folk.

All joking aside, the question of where all the young folk have gone is a big concern for the church. I part from Palin and McCain considerably and maintain that this conspicuous absence has naught to do with homosexuality or a timetable for leaving Iraq. I think I would actually argue the opposite: that the religious right's conflation of politics and nationalism with Christian values and identity has created for most people my age a perception of Christianity as an out-of-touch ideology for fanatics. I see where they are coming from and must admit that it is an accurate depiction in many cases. 

I am also led to wonder, alternatively, whether Jesus pop/rock/heavy metal and other attempts of American Christianity to appropriate secular culture hasn't led to a cheapening and misdirection of faith. Whereas Christian faith of old seemed to be oriented away from the secular and materialistic by providing an orientation toward deep, enduring principles, it would seem that Christianity today wants to be part and parcel of the capitalist enterprise.  

Or, maybe it's just that I can't stand Jesus pop. 

Either way, I just don't know. Tell me, where are all the whippersnappers?

Offertory Escapades

So today was my first day taking the offertory (the part of a church service where the congregation grudgingly coughs up some change for the collection plate). In addition, it also marked the first time I had to something other than just stand at the pulpit and talk (with great eloquence). 

Before the service I had talked things over with my advisor and thought I understood the process: 

1) I go and grab the collection plates that are sitting on the altar. 

2) I walk down to the chancel to between the pews  aisle and hand said plates to the ushers. 

3) I then read a "Call to Offertory" which in laypersons' terms means a "plea for cash." 

However, much to my bemusement, as I passed the ushers the bowls, one of them says, "You were supposed to say something" to which I replied with my usual articulateness, "Duuuhhh..." and watched them turn around and start handing out the plates. 

At this point my advisor interceded on my behalf by standing up and shouting, "Wait! He has something to say!" The ushers then regathered the plate which were already halfway down the first pew and returned to the front so I could give my 30 second spiel and then let them go at it again. 

I am happy to report that I was not summarily smitten at any point during the service thereafter so I can only surmise that the Lord took kindly to the "Prayer of Dedication" I read after they returned with the collection plates. 

Lord have mercy.

I Wonder

I have been wondering a lot lately whether McCain's whiteness will triumph in the end over Obama's obviously superior vision, intellect, and charisma. There is a very good chance it may, and what that says about American society is a little disconcerting. I think the following article really captures the essence of this issue. I hope you find it as eye-opening as I did: 

By Tim Wise

For those who still can’t grasp the concept of white privilege, or who are looking for some easy-to-understand examples of it, perhaps this list will help.

White privilege is when you can get pregnant at seventeen like Bristol Palin and everyone is quick to insist that your life and that of your family is a personal matter, and that no one has a right to judge you or your parents, because “every family has challenges,” even as black and Latino families with similar “challenges” are regularly typified as irresponsible, pathological and arbiters of social decay.

White privilege is when you can call yourself a “fuckin’ redneck,” like Bristol Palin’s boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes with you, you'll “kick their fuckin' ass,” and talk about how you like to “shoot shit” for fun, and still be viewed as a responsible, all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) rather than a thug.

White privilege is when you can attend four different colleges in six years like Sarah Palin did (one of which you basically failed out of, then returned to after making up some coursework at a community college), and no one questions your intelligence or commitment to achievement, whereas a person of color who did this would be viewed as unfit for college, and probably someone who only got in in the first place because of affirmative action.

White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-sized colleges, and then Governor of a state with about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people don’t all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S. Senator, two-term state Senator, and constitutional law scholar, means you’re “untested.”


White privilege is being able to say that you support the words “under God” in the pledge of allegiance because “if it was good enough for the founding fathers, it’s good enough for me,” and not be immediately disqualified from holding office--since, after all, the pledge was written in the late 1800s and the “under God” part wasn’t added until the 1950s--while if you're black and believe in reading accused criminals and terrorists their rights (because the Constitution, which you used to teach at a prestigious law school requires it), you're a dangerous and mushy liberal who isn't fit to safeguard American institutions.


White privilege is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people immediately scared of you.


White privilege is being able to have a husband who was a member of an extremist political party that wants your state to secede from the Union, and whose motto is “Alaska first,” and no one questions your patriotism or that of your family, while if you're black and your spouse merely fails to come to a 9/11 memorial so she can be home with her kids on the first day of school, people immediately think she’s being disrespectful.


White privilege is being able to make fun of community organizers and the work they do--like, among other things, fight for the right of women to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an end to child labor--and people think you’re being pithy and tough, but if you merely question the experience of a small town mayor and 18-month governor with no foreign policy expertise beyond a class she took in college and the fact that she lives near Russia, you’re somehow being mean, or even sexist.


White privilege is being able to convince white women who don’t even agree with you on any substantive issue to vote for you and your running mate anyway, because all of a sudden your presence on the ticket has inspired confidence in these same white women, and made them give your party a “second look.”


White privilege is being able to fire people who didn’t support your political campaigns and not be accused of abusing your power or being a typical politician who engages in favoritism, while being black and merely knowing some folks from the old-line political machines in Chicago means you must be corrupt.


White privilege is when you can take nearly twenty-four hours to get to a hospital after beginning to leak amniotic fluid, and still be viewed as a great mom whose commitment to her children is unquestionable, and whose "next door neighbor" qualities make her ready to be VP, while if you're a black candidate for president and you let your children be interviewed for a few seconds on TV, you're irresponsibly exploiting them.

White privilege is being able to give a 36-minute speech in which you talk about lipstick and make fun of your opponent, while laying out no substantive policy positions on any issue at all, and still manage to be considered a legitimate candidate, while a black person who gives an hour speech the week before, in which he lays out specific policy proposals on several issues, is still criticized for being too vague about what he would do if elected. 

White privilege is being able to attend churches over the years whose pastors say that people who voted for John Kerry or merely criticize George W. Bush are going to hell, and that the U.S. is an explicitly Christian nation and the job of Christians is to bring Christian theological principles into government, and who bring in speakers who say the conflict in the Middle East is God’s punishment on Jews for rejecting Jesus, and everyone can still think you’re just a good church-going Christian, but if you’re black and friends with a black pastor who has noted (as have Colin Powell and the U.S. Department of Defense) that terrorist attacks are often the result of U.S. foreign policy and who talks about the history of racism and its effect on black people, you’re an extremist who probably hates America.


White privilege is not knowing what the Bush Doctrine is when asked by a reporter, and then people get angry at the reporter for asking you such a “trick question,” while being black and merely refusing to give one-word answers to the queries of Bill O’Reilly means you’re dodging the question, or trying to seem overly intellectual and nuanced.


White privilege is being able to go to a prestigious prep school, then to Yale and Harvard Business School (George W. Bush), and still be seen as an "average guy," while being black, going to a prestigious prep school, then Occidental College, then Columbia, and then Harvard Law, makes you "uppity" and a snob who probably looks down on regular folks. 

White privilege is being able to graduate near the bottom of your college class (McCain), or graduate with a C average from Yale (W.), and that's OK, and you're still cut out to be president, but if you're black and you graduate near the top of your class from Harvard Law, you can't be trusted to make good decisions in office. 

White privilege is being able to dump your first wife after she's disfigured in a car crash so you can take up with a multi-millionaire beauty queen (who you then go on to call the c-word in public) and still be thought of as a man of strong family values, while if you're black and married for nearly 20 years to the same woman, your family is viewed as un-American and your gestures of affection for each other are called "terrorist fist bumps."

White privilege is when you can develop a pain-killer addiction, having obtained your drug of choice illegally like Cindy McCain, go on to beat that addiction, and everyone praises you for being so strong, while being a black guy who smoked pot a few times in college and never became an addict means people will wonder if perhaps you still get high, and even ask whether or not you may have sold drugs at some point. 

White privilege is being able to sing a song about bombing Iran and still be viewed as a sober and rational statesman, with the maturity to be president, while being black and suggesting that the U.S. should speak with other nations, even when we have disagreements with them, makes you dangerously naive and immature.

White privilege is being able to say that you hate "gooks" and "will always hate them," and yet, you aren't a racist because, ya know, you were a POW, so you're entitled to your hatred, while being black and noting that black anger about racism is understandable, given the history of your country, makes you a dangerous bigot. 

White privilege is being able to claim your experience as a POW has anything at all to do with your fitness for president, while being black and experiencing racism and an absent father is apparently among the "lesser adversities" faced by other politicians, as Sarah Palin explained in her convention speech.

And finally, white privilege is the only thing that could possibly allow someone to become president when he has voted with George W. Bush 90 percent of the time, even as unemployment is skyrocketing, people are losing their homes, inflation is rising, and the U.S. is increasingly isolated from world opinion, just because white voters aren’t sure about that whole “change” thing. Ya know, it’s just too vague and ill-defined, unlike, say, four more years of the same, which is very concrete and certain…


White privilege is, in short, the problem.

Click here for the original text

An Email Anecdote

As a young minister in Kentucky, I was asked by a funeral director to hold a grave-side service for a homeless man, who had no family or friends. The funeral was to be held at a new cemetery way back in the country, and this man would be the first to be buried there. I was not familiar with the backwoods area, and I soon became lost. Being a typical man, I did not stop to ask for directions I finally arrived an hour late. I saw the backhoe and the open grave, but the hearse was nowhere in sight. The digging crew was eating lunch. I apologized to the workers for my tardiness, and stepped to the side of the open grave. There I saw the vault lid already in place. 

I assured the workers I would not hold them up for long, as I told them that this was the proper thing to do. The workers gathered around the grave and stood silently, as I began to pour out my heart and soul. As I preached about 'looking forward to a brighter tomorrow' and 'the glory that is to come,' the workers began to say 'Amen,' 'Praise the Lord,' and 'Glory!' The fervor of these men truly inspired me. So, I preached and I preached like I had never preached before, all the way from Genesis to Revelations. I finally closed the lengthy service with a prayer, thanked the men, and walked to my car.

As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I heard one of the workers say to another, 'I ain't NEVER seen nothin' like that before, and I've been puttin' in septic tanks for thirty years!

Church Fair

This past weekend was a busy one church-wise. Saturday there was a "Church Fair" which called for setup on Friday night and was followed by a special bluegrass gospel service on Sunday. 

Setup was a generally good time and gave me a chance to claim some junk before the hardcore bargain hunters arrived the next morning. You can debate the morality of my purchase in relation to my position as Ministerial Intern at the church, but I for one am extremely pleased with the set of margarita glasses I got for the low, low price of only two dollars. To preserve my reputation, however, I told everyone I was going to use them to practice giving communion to my friends and family. There's nothing like a little salt and lime with your blood o' Christ.

The fair itself was little more than a community garage sale that, in the end, amounted to a redistribution of junk between members of the church. Somehow though the selling of this, honestly put, crap, brought in about $1500 dollars for the church. That is pretty amazing. I appreciate it even more as I, being the youngest church member by 20 years and thus the go-to man for lifting anything and everything, personally handled almost every item that was sold and knew its exact "quality" all the better. Luckily there were church mothers there with crazy delicious baked goods to restore my vital energies. 

Sunday's bluegrass gospel sermon was truly a sight to behold. The preacher (also my professor at Harvard) apparently had a grandfather who was a southern baptist minister in Louisiana so was able to bust out a twangy sermon full of the AMENs and HALLELUJAHs one would hope for. He even went so far as to describe Jesus as a guy who "knew when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em." 

This is my kind of church.