Today is my last on-call shift at the hospital. (And there was much rejoicing!) I can't say I'm going to miss it. It's hard to say what part of it I enjoyed least-- wearing three different pagers and the excruciating wait for one of them to go off; responding to a page to hear the words: "we have a full-trauma coming in"; spending endless hours in the stuffy on-call room which makes Harry Potter's broom closet seem like a luxery suite; drifting off to sleep only to be startled awake again by the pager; or the simple and indeterminable boredom of the hospital. There are only so many hours one can spend wasting away at the computer or watching episodes of The West Wing on DVD.
Perhaps there are things I will miss-- the satisfaction of knowing I handled a difficult situation with calm and confidence, or knowing that my presence helped someome get through a traumatic moment in their lives. I do not leave this experience empty-handed. I leave with the stories of other people who's lives I entered into-- however briefly-- at incredibly difficult and painful moments. I have a feeling these people will stay with me for a long while. And even after I forget individual names and faces are blurred over time, I know I will remember the lessons I learned about just how fragile life is, and how precious we all are.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Bridge-building Theology
"Now in Christ Jesus you who were once far off have been brought now. For he is our peace, in his flesh he has made the two groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us... that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God... So he came and proclaimed peace to those who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to God. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God." --Ephesians 2:13-19
So I have a little confession to make this morning. Despite the fact that I’ve chosen to preach on one of the New Testament epistles, I have to admit that I have always had something of a love-hate relationship with them. Ephesians is no exception to this. For example, there are lovely passages like the one we heard this morning— beseeching members of the Christian community to see beyond their divisions and prejudices. But on the other hand, a little later on, one comes across the passage which describes how wives should obey their husbands and slaves should obey their masters. I often end up struggling with how to deal with these texts. Not wanting to accept them without question, but not wanting to throw them out entirely either.
One way that liberal interpreters tend to get around this problem is to make the argument that the letters of the early church were written in a particular time and place, for a particular group of people, in very particular circumstances. Now it’s helpful to keep this in mind, especially when faced with those passages that seem so contrary to our notions of what Christianity should look like. But for liberal Christians who adhere to this kind of interpretation, one of the side effects of labeling something as being for a “particular people in a particular time”, is that sometimes we forget that there are words there for us as well. And while the writers of the New Testament epistles weren’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, every now and then they got something so incredibly right that the words are just as true and profound now as they were then.
The passage from Ephesians that we just heard-- I believe-- is one of those passages. And while it certainly was written within a particular historical and cultural context— it is also a text that speaks to all people, in all times, and in all places.
In its historical context, this morning’s passage had a very specific purpose. At the time, there was a huge divide opening up between two ethnic groups— Jewish followers of Christ, and Gentile converts. There were all sorts of arguments about how strictly Gentile converts had to adhere to Jewish law, some even arguing that the law should simply be abolished. Not to mention all the old animosities between the two ethnic groups that had been present for hundreds of years. Gentiles, for instance, viewed their Jewish neighbors as strange, cultish, backwards, and subversive. Jews, on the other hand, saw Gentiles as immoral, lawless, idolatrous, and oppressive. Neither of these groups was particularly keen on forming community together. But the author of Ephesians was deeply aware that in the midst of this new thing that was happening— in the midst of this new creation-- this new chapter in salvation history--these ethnic clashes threatened to tear apart the fabric of this new religious movement. The writer of Ephesians was also deeply aware that such clashes were contrary to the very core of the message that Christ had come to proclaim.
Not that the writer of Ephesians was saying something entirely new. Perhaps the author was thinking of Isaiah 56, which proclaims that when the day of salvation comes, God’s house will be opened up to become a “house of prayer for all people”. Israelites and Gentiles will be gathered up together as God’s people-- no longer separated by the very human barriers of mistrust, prejudice, hate, and fear.
Or perhaps the writer of Ephesians knew about Jesus’ strange habit of bringing together some of the most radically diverse characters he could find. Consider, for a moment, Jesus’ disciples. We don’t hear much about the character of Simon the Zealot, (Zealots were Jews who radically challenged the sovereignty of the Roman empire) but according to the gospels, Simon the Zealot was one of Jesus’ twelve disciples. A fact that is perhaps unremarkable in and of itself. Until one considers another one of Jesus’ disciples-- one who is perhaps a bit more well known-- Matthew the tax collector. Matthew the tax collector served that very Roman Empire that Simon the Zealot would have been plotting to subvert and overthrow. It’s hard to imagine two more diverse characters. To illustrate just how odd this might have seemed back then, imagine a pro-life, Evangelical Republican working side by side for justice with a pro-choice, socialist leaning democrat. It’s pretty hard to imagine. At least for me! And yet, Jesus chose both of these men to be in his inner circle of disciples. It makes me wonder, if Jesus was around today, who would end up in that inner circle? I’m willing to bet that it wouldn’t just be liberals and progressives.
And so the writer of Ephesians is attempting to pick up where Jesus left off-- attempting to break down old walls of division between Gentiles and Jews. It’s a message that I’m guessing made a lot of people very angry, because to give up our old prejudices and open the door to the unknown and unfamiliar can be pretty frightening.
This is something we know all too well in our current world. Prejudice, fear, and the threat of the unknown continue to be the sources of many of the dividing walls we put up between ourselves and those who are different than us. Sometimes, our dividing walls are literal— such as the Berlin wall, the Jewish Ghettos and concentration camps of WWII, or the wall in Jerusalem that currently separates Palestinians from Israelis. Other times, the dividing wall is constructed on paper, in the form of unjust laws. Such as segregation and Jim Crow in the United States, Apartheid in South Africa, or a current law which says that who you love dictates your ability to serve your country. Finally, there are those dividing walls that are a little harder to define. Walls put up within our own hearts and minds. Walls that keep us from fully accepting “the other”. Walls of racism, sexism, classism, or homophobia.
It is this last category which is to blame for all the others. The walls of concrete and stone being physical manifestations of our inner fears. And while there is nothing in the Ten Commandments that says, “though shalt not make a wall between thyself and thy neighbor”, I believe that our never-ending human need to divide ourselves from others who are different than us is one of the great sins of humanity. I also believe that as long as we are separated from one another out of fear or hate, we are also separate from God.
So what then? How can we take this word— as is so often our weekly prayer in this church-- and make it a living word for us today?
I don’t know how many of you have seen any of the footage from the UCC General Synod that happened several weeks ago. If you haven’t, and you watch only one speech or sermon from that gathering, watch the sermon of Reverend Otis Moss III. His sermon— which was electrifying— was about God’s punctuation. About something he called “comma theology.” He talked about our audacity as finite creatures to put a period where God would have us put a comma. One of the examples he gave was that of American history. American history, he said, is a “series of contradictions between those who write periods, and those who know that God writes a comma.”
For instance:
If the color of your skin is black, you are only three-fifths of a person.
PERIOD.
If the color of your skin is black, You aren’t allowed to eat in this restaurant. PERIOD.
If the color of your skin is black, You probably shouldn’t come to this school. PERIOD.
But then, Reverend Moss said, God sent a coma to Alabama in the form of a 26 year old preacher named Martin Luther King Jr.
Now just in case you think I’m getting a bit off track, let me assure you that all of this is not unrelated to our subject this morning. We’re really talking about the same thing, just using different vocabulary. But instead of commas, and “comma theology” I would like to talk about bridges, and bridge-building theology. Martin Luther King Jr. was a bridge builder, as were so many of the men and women who came after him in the civil rights movement. As were the men and women who founded this denomination—building bridges across four different denominations to form the one United Church of Christ.
It would be hard, I think, to over-emphasize the importance of bridge building theology. Because it’s not enough to simply recognize these walls of division. It’s not even enough to break them down. If we break down the walls, but do nothing to break down the hate that built those walls in the first place, those walls are going to come right back up again.
And so, like the prophet Isaiah, like Reverend King, like Jesus himself-- we are called to go one step further. Where a wall once used to be, we are called to build a bridge.
And just as the dividing walls of concrete and stone have their origins in the hate and fear that reside within the human heart, so too must our bridges of care have their origins in the divine presence of the spirit within our own hearts and minds. The work begins within each of us. It is then, and only then, that we have the capacity to continue the work of reaching out to others. Especially to those who are different, especially those with whom we disagree, and especially those from whom we would most wish to keep our distance.
If we want our church to be relevant, if we want our church to thrive, we have to be willing to be bridge-builders. We have to be willing to step outside our comfort zone-- into the realm of radical diversity, radical inclusively, and radical love.
This means different things for each of us, by the way. Only as individuals can we determine what dividing walls need to be broken down within our own hearts. And that is my challenge for all of us this morning. To ask, what are the ways that we separate ourselves from others, and from God. What can we do to begin to break down those walls of separation and division and begin to build bridges in their place?
It’s a question that, if we take our faith seriously, we must begin to ask ourselves. Because in Christ there is no east or west, no north or south. In Christ there is no Jew or Greek, male or female, gay, straight, bisexual, or transgendered. God is not white. God is not black. Not red, and not yellow. God does not label anyone as legal or illegal. God is not a democrat or a republican. God is not a conservative, and God is not a progressive. There is only the one God, the one spirit, the one Christ-- whose prayer-- “that they might all be one”-- remains our prayer of hope for all creation.
So I have a little confession to make this morning. Despite the fact that I’ve chosen to preach on one of the New Testament epistles, I have to admit that I have always had something of a love-hate relationship with them. Ephesians is no exception to this. For example, there are lovely passages like the one we heard this morning— beseeching members of the Christian community to see beyond their divisions and prejudices. But on the other hand, a little later on, one comes across the passage which describes how wives should obey their husbands and slaves should obey their masters. I often end up struggling with how to deal with these texts. Not wanting to accept them without question, but not wanting to throw them out entirely either.
One way that liberal interpreters tend to get around this problem is to make the argument that the letters of the early church were written in a particular time and place, for a particular group of people, in very particular circumstances. Now it’s helpful to keep this in mind, especially when faced with those passages that seem so contrary to our notions of what Christianity should look like. But for liberal Christians who adhere to this kind of interpretation, one of the side effects of labeling something as being for a “particular people in a particular time”, is that sometimes we forget that there are words there for us as well. And while the writers of the New Testament epistles weren’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, every now and then they got something so incredibly right that the words are just as true and profound now as they were then.
The passage from Ephesians that we just heard-- I believe-- is one of those passages. And while it certainly was written within a particular historical and cultural context— it is also a text that speaks to all people, in all times, and in all places.
In its historical context, this morning’s passage had a very specific purpose. At the time, there was a huge divide opening up between two ethnic groups— Jewish followers of Christ, and Gentile converts. There were all sorts of arguments about how strictly Gentile converts had to adhere to Jewish law, some even arguing that the law should simply be abolished. Not to mention all the old animosities between the two ethnic groups that had been present for hundreds of years. Gentiles, for instance, viewed their Jewish neighbors as strange, cultish, backwards, and subversive. Jews, on the other hand, saw Gentiles as immoral, lawless, idolatrous, and oppressive. Neither of these groups was particularly keen on forming community together. But the author of Ephesians was deeply aware that in the midst of this new thing that was happening— in the midst of this new creation-- this new chapter in salvation history--these ethnic clashes threatened to tear apart the fabric of this new religious movement. The writer of Ephesians was also deeply aware that such clashes were contrary to the very core of the message that Christ had come to proclaim.
Not that the writer of Ephesians was saying something entirely new. Perhaps the author was thinking of Isaiah 56, which proclaims that when the day of salvation comes, God’s house will be opened up to become a “house of prayer for all people”. Israelites and Gentiles will be gathered up together as God’s people-- no longer separated by the very human barriers of mistrust, prejudice, hate, and fear.
Or perhaps the writer of Ephesians knew about Jesus’ strange habit of bringing together some of the most radically diverse characters he could find. Consider, for a moment, Jesus’ disciples. We don’t hear much about the character of Simon the Zealot, (Zealots were Jews who radically challenged the sovereignty of the Roman empire) but according to the gospels, Simon the Zealot was one of Jesus’ twelve disciples. A fact that is perhaps unremarkable in and of itself. Until one considers another one of Jesus’ disciples-- one who is perhaps a bit more well known-- Matthew the tax collector. Matthew the tax collector served that very Roman Empire that Simon the Zealot would have been plotting to subvert and overthrow. It’s hard to imagine two more diverse characters. To illustrate just how odd this might have seemed back then, imagine a pro-life, Evangelical Republican working side by side for justice with a pro-choice, socialist leaning democrat. It’s pretty hard to imagine. At least for me! And yet, Jesus chose both of these men to be in his inner circle of disciples. It makes me wonder, if Jesus was around today, who would end up in that inner circle? I’m willing to bet that it wouldn’t just be liberals and progressives.
And so the writer of Ephesians is attempting to pick up where Jesus left off-- attempting to break down old walls of division between Gentiles and Jews. It’s a message that I’m guessing made a lot of people very angry, because to give up our old prejudices and open the door to the unknown and unfamiliar can be pretty frightening.
This is something we know all too well in our current world. Prejudice, fear, and the threat of the unknown continue to be the sources of many of the dividing walls we put up between ourselves and those who are different than us. Sometimes, our dividing walls are literal— such as the Berlin wall, the Jewish Ghettos and concentration camps of WWII, or the wall in Jerusalem that currently separates Palestinians from Israelis. Other times, the dividing wall is constructed on paper, in the form of unjust laws. Such as segregation and Jim Crow in the United States, Apartheid in South Africa, or a current law which says that who you love dictates your ability to serve your country. Finally, there are those dividing walls that are a little harder to define. Walls put up within our own hearts and minds. Walls that keep us from fully accepting “the other”. Walls of racism, sexism, classism, or homophobia.
It is this last category which is to blame for all the others. The walls of concrete and stone being physical manifestations of our inner fears. And while there is nothing in the Ten Commandments that says, “though shalt not make a wall between thyself and thy neighbor”, I believe that our never-ending human need to divide ourselves from others who are different than us is one of the great sins of humanity. I also believe that as long as we are separated from one another out of fear or hate, we are also separate from God.
So what then? How can we take this word— as is so often our weekly prayer in this church-- and make it a living word for us today?
I don’t know how many of you have seen any of the footage from the UCC General Synod that happened several weeks ago. If you haven’t, and you watch only one speech or sermon from that gathering, watch the sermon of Reverend Otis Moss III. His sermon— which was electrifying— was about God’s punctuation. About something he called “comma theology.” He talked about our audacity as finite creatures to put a period where God would have us put a comma. One of the examples he gave was that of American history. American history, he said, is a “series of contradictions between those who write periods, and those who know that God writes a comma.”
For instance:
If the color of your skin is black, you are only three-fifths of a person.
PERIOD.
If the color of your skin is black, You aren’t allowed to eat in this restaurant. PERIOD.
If the color of your skin is black, You probably shouldn’t come to this school. PERIOD.
But then, Reverend Moss said, God sent a coma to Alabama in the form of a 26 year old preacher named Martin Luther King Jr.
Now just in case you think I’m getting a bit off track, let me assure you that all of this is not unrelated to our subject this morning. We’re really talking about the same thing, just using different vocabulary. But instead of commas, and “comma theology” I would like to talk about bridges, and bridge-building theology. Martin Luther King Jr. was a bridge builder, as were so many of the men and women who came after him in the civil rights movement. As were the men and women who founded this denomination—building bridges across four different denominations to form the one United Church of Christ.
It would be hard, I think, to over-emphasize the importance of bridge building theology. Because it’s not enough to simply recognize these walls of division. It’s not even enough to break them down. If we break down the walls, but do nothing to break down the hate that built those walls in the first place, those walls are going to come right back up again.
And so, like the prophet Isaiah, like Reverend King, like Jesus himself-- we are called to go one step further. Where a wall once used to be, we are called to build a bridge.
And just as the dividing walls of concrete and stone have their origins in the hate and fear that reside within the human heart, so too must our bridges of care have their origins in the divine presence of the spirit within our own hearts and minds. The work begins within each of us. It is then, and only then, that we have the capacity to continue the work of reaching out to others. Especially to those who are different, especially those with whom we disagree, and especially those from whom we would most wish to keep our distance.
If we want our church to be relevant, if we want our church to thrive, we have to be willing to be bridge-builders. We have to be willing to step outside our comfort zone-- into the realm of radical diversity, radical inclusively, and radical love.
This means different things for each of us, by the way. Only as individuals can we determine what dividing walls need to be broken down within our own hearts. And that is my challenge for all of us this morning. To ask, what are the ways that we separate ourselves from others, and from God. What can we do to begin to break down those walls of separation and division and begin to build bridges in their place?
It’s a question that, if we take our faith seriously, we must begin to ask ourselves. Because in Christ there is no east or west, no north or south. In Christ there is no Jew or Greek, male or female, gay, straight, bisexual, or transgendered. God is not white. God is not black. Not red, and not yellow. God does not label anyone as legal or illegal. God is not a democrat or a republican. God is not a conservative, and God is not a progressive. There is only the one God, the one spirit, the one Christ-- whose prayer-- “that they might all be one”-- remains our prayer of hope for all creation.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Being Relevent vs. Being Useful
“Let us not underestimate how hard it is to be compassionate. Compassion is hard because it requires the inner disposition to go with others to the place where they are weak, vulnerable, lonely, and broken. But this is not our natural response to suffering. What we desire most is to do away with suffering by fleeing from it or finding a quick cure for it. As busy, active, relevant ministers, we want to earn our bread by making a real contribution. This means first and foremost doing something to show that our presence makes a difference. And so we ignore out greatest gift, which is our ability to enter into solidarity with those who suffer.”
-Henri Nouwen, from “The Way of the Heart
One of my biggest pet peeves about the church today (and I mean ‘church’ in the most general sense) is how irrelevant it can seem. Amidst all the injustice and suffering in the world—war, poverty, famine, racism, homophobia, etc—what is the church really doing to make things better? Sometimes it can seem like the church actually makes things worse!! One of my big questions over the past few years has been how to make the church more relevant. Because of that, I sometimes get preoccupied with how I personally can be relevant, which is what leads to my obsession with being “useful”. Nouwen’s quote really speaks to this, and really convicts me.
This quote came along at the perfect time, because I think my experiences at the hospital are finally starting to teach me that a ministry of presence is in fact very relevant-- perhaps as relevant as it gets. I’ve been able to build relationships with a few of my patients, and for the first time, I feel like I’m actually doing ministry.
I am also starting to see the direct ways in which this is making me a better pastor. By letting go some of my anxiety about being “useful”, I am getting better at being fully present. I’m learning that there is no way to really be in solidarity with someone if your own anxiety prevents you from being fully present. If I am preoccupied with how nervous I am, then I am not giving my full attention to the other person. But if I am fully present, I walk out of the room feeling like the interaction went well, and I am blessed with more confidence for the next visit.
Not only does this make me a better pastor, but I think it makes me a better person. Because when we fully open up ourselves to another person, when we are fully present with them, we expand our own humanity. In all the human suffering we face, we can recognize that none of it is truly alien to us. Nouwen goes on to say that this kind of compassionate solidarity helps us see that “the roots of all conflict, war, injustice, cruelty, jealousy, and envy are deeply anchored in our own hearts.” In thinking about how the church can be relevant, I think this is a profound observation, because the realm of the human heart is where the church can often be the most effective agent of change. And it is the realm of the human heart that we deal with every day as chaplains!
-Henri Nouwen, from “The Way of the Heart
One of my biggest pet peeves about the church today (and I mean ‘church’ in the most general sense) is how irrelevant it can seem. Amidst all the injustice and suffering in the world—war, poverty, famine, racism, homophobia, etc—what is the church really doing to make things better? Sometimes it can seem like the church actually makes things worse!! One of my big questions over the past few years has been how to make the church more relevant. Because of that, I sometimes get preoccupied with how I personally can be relevant, which is what leads to my obsession with being “useful”. Nouwen’s quote really speaks to this, and really convicts me.
This quote came along at the perfect time, because I think my experiences at the hospital are finally starting to teach me that a ministry of presence is in fact very relevant-- perhaps as relevant as it gets. I’ve been able to build relationships with a few of my patients, and for the first time, I feel like I’m actually doing ministry.
I am also starting to see the direct ways in which this is making me a better pastor. By letting go some of my anxiety about being “useful”, I am getting better at being fully present. I’m learning that there is no way to really be in solidarity with someone if your own anxiety prevents you from being fully present. If I am preoccupied with how nervous I am, then I am not giving my full attention to the other person. But if I am fully present, I walk out of the room feeling like the interaction went well, and I am blessed with more confidence for the next visit.
Not only does this make me a better pastor, but I think it makes me a better person. Because when we fully open up ourselves to another person, when we are fully present with them, we expand our own humanity. In all the human suffering we face, we can recognize that none of it is truly alien to us. Nouwen goes on to say that this kind of compassionate solidarity helps us see that “the roots of all conflict, war, injustice, cruelty, jealousy, and envy are deeply anchored in our own hearts.” In thinking about how the church can be relevant, I think this is a profound observation, because the realm of the human heart is where the church can often be the most effective agent of change. And it is the realm of the human heart that we deal with every day as chaplains!
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