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Month: July 2020

The Virus in Our Midst

Yesterday I read a piece by Andrew Sullivan over at “The Weekly Dish.” In it he offered thoughtful consideration on the Corona virus and the effects Covid-19 is having on society. He particularly developed how the pandemic is contributing to the political chaos that we experience every day in the U.S. It is an interesting read for people who don’t think that overly simplistic answers are sufficient about wearing a mask or not. Or, social distancing and all of the complications that this virus has caused.
One of his points struck me.
He wrote how pandemics do cause effects on culture much as they do on individuals. Granted, not all pandemics are the result of viruses. The most famous ‘plague’ was the Black Death in Europe in the 14th century. That outbreak killed millions and was the result of a bacterium called Yersinia pestis. Not a virus. But, a nasty bug none the less.
In our world today the virus called SARS-CoV-2 is what is wreaking havoc. This virus is that causes the infection we know as” novel corona virus-2019”, or Covid-19.
Viruses are called by many “submicroscopic infectious agents.” They aren’t really a viable living organism because they require a host in which to grow and thrive. In this way they appear parasitic. They infect a host where the virus works its way into the machinery of the host at a cellular level. Once inside the cell, a virus will “highjack” various parts of the cell in order to replicate itself.
Over and over and over again.
Viruses may then produce toxins that overpower a host and cause serious illness or death.
As I considered Sullivan’s piece and looked around at much of what’s going on in the U.S. and the world, I began to see similarities between how a virus infects a living host and how it also “infects” society.
We are witnessing upticks in violence and unrest that are becoming epidemic. Shootings and other violent behavior have escalated to the point that local governments and law enforcement are requesting outside assistance. The lawlessness that we see as people disregard mandates designed to protect people from exposure to the corona virus is rampant as people are tired of being told what to do. They are like sick children who refuse the very medication that may cure their illness. The political turbulence is rising like foam on a polluted river. It is sure evidence that there is something desperately sick happening beneath the surface. We are a culture that has contracted a deadly pathogen that is unaware that it is killing its host. And, the pathogen doesn’t care.
It can only replicate itself.
That is its sole purpose.
Make more of ‘Me.’
It’s no surprise, then, that the most insidious symptom of this virus on culture is that it cares only for itself. It does not care on whit about anyone else.
“It’s all about ME!” has become the outward manifestation of this virus.
“You can’t tell ME what to do!”
“I have RIGHTS!”
Yeah, maybe true.
Our culture is the host for this virus.
Life together is how we maintain our own lives and livelihoods.
If this virus is successful, well, the culture dies.
That’s not a very positive prognosis. But, it is the direction that we may be headed.
Corona virus has revealed our vulnerabilities and weakness as a culture. It has caused us to retract into shells that purport protection. This protection is false.
It is only when, or ‘If,’ we can come together and unite in order to fight the effects of this Cultural Contagion that we may see its cure.
We surely must not remain silent as barriers that the culture have meticulously been raised against selfishness, hate, violence, and destruction are ripped down by the toxins that this virus has released on us.
Yet, we must remain vigilant to speak and act and be proactive in ways that encourage dialog and healing and mutual respect.
So, do we accept the treatment?
Or, do we watch our breath slowly ebb away until there is nothing on the mirror but dust?

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Musing on a Wednesday_7/29/2020

Yesterday was nice.
My wife and I took the day for a long drive. We found our way past detours and along county roads until we arrived in Loudonville, OH. Loudonville is a small town of around 3,000 people. It seems that the main industry is tourism. Every half mile or so there is another sign for this campground or those cabins. There are, perhaps, more canoe liveries per capita than any other place in the country. People, especially young people, travel from all over the area to canoe, tube, kayak, or raft down the Mohican River.
We went, besides for the ride, to check out a place that rents tree houses. My wife and daughter are big fans of anything HGTV. Apparently, one of the features on that network is some guy who builds tree houses that contain all of the amenities of home. He built 2 of the tree houses at this particular place. So, of course, we had to check it out! (yawn…)
It’s not that I don’t like the idea of taking a mini-vacation and staying in a tree house. Especially one that compares favorably to any hotel room. It’s that I really, really don’t like anything about HGTV or any of those home improvement networks. I mean, like, really.
After we saw those and decided that we will probably try to get down there for a stay this fall, we turned the nose of the car East. We drove along State Rt. 39 through the fertile farming country of Ashland, Wayne, and Holmes counties. Passing the towns of Nashville and Millersburg we came to what is commonly called “Amish Country.” There we stopped and bought some cheese. (Of course, that’s a necessary stop anytime we’re there. The cheese in the area is outstanding!) Eventually, we came to the little burg of Walnut Creek. There is a restaurant there that we try to stop at whenever we go down there.
As with most businesses in that area, there is a bookstand near the checkout. The stand contains all kinds of books about the faith of the Mennonites and the Amish of the area. If you want to learn about Amish prayers or read about the faith adventures of some hero of the faith, well, this is your chance.
For me, however, yesterday shined a spotlight on something that has been on my mind lately.
If you’ve followed some of what I’ve shared on this blog recently, you know that I have been studying and sharing the First Letter that Paul wrote to the Church at Corinth. One of the issues that Paul purposed to address in the letter was that of divisions and factions that had driven a wedge between the members of the young church. For Paul, this was unacceptable. His desire for all of the churches that he related to was for unity and to see them built up in the faith. Schisms and fractures were ‘fleshly’ things that could not be tolerated in Spirit-filled relationships.
The reason I bring this up is, as we drove throughout this very conservative and religious area there were dozens and dozens of churches of various denominations and confessions. There were, of course, the ubiquitous United Methodists. They appear like dandelions in my yard. They’re everywhere! The Mennonite and the ‘Amish Mennonite’ churches may also be found aplenty. There are Church of the Brethren, not to be confused with the Brethren Church, there are Presbyterians, and a myriad of non-denominational churched. These range in size from little storefront churches to the gargantuan campus of Grace Church in Wooster.
As I reflected on this, I was seized by sadness. Not because Jesus was not proclaimed in a way that I could personally relate to. Nor, because I have any huge problem with any of these groups.
No.
I was saddened because of the number of different groups.
Each represented to me a division, a schism, a ‘my way or the highway’ reaction that has broken the body of Christ.
I understand that the image of that body necessitates differences. After all, not all can be an eye or an ear or a big toe. There are different gifts that are important for the health and growth of the Body.
But, this denominationalism and factionalism is something entirely different. While some may agree on, let’s say, Piety like the Methodists and Nazarenes and most of those anabaptist churches I mentioned, there are distinctions that allow members of One to say to members of Another, “Well, WE do it this way!”
Or, “We believe that Communion should be this way or that.” Or, “we baptize THIS way! Your way is not right!”
That’s not evidence of a single Body with many gifts.
That’s more like several different bodies.
I know. I’m splitting hairs and being a crotchety old man.
But, that doesn’t make my take on this any easier.

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Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass

There are few things in this life that can agitate me to extreme frustration and anger than the misuse of the Name of Christ by those who profess to be ardent followers.
Yeah, I know, I have a particular lens through which I view life. My worldview colors my observations and opinions. This, of course, renders what I think and say of little consequence to any who hold differing thoughts.
That’s ok.
I don’t make any claim to know anything at all, let alone what you or anyone else should think.
That being said, I am at a loss right now to express the sadness and dejection that I feel regarding the Church in the U.S.
I just finished reading the first of three memoirs written by Frederick Douglass. It’s entitled, “Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass.”
I really want to educate myself about the history that none of us who grew up in the bleached whiteness of Northern suburbia ever heard in school. I desire to know the truth that gave breath and life to Douglass and du Bois and King and Malcom. What inspires those who march behind banners of ‘No Justice; No Peace’? How can anyone explain the seemingly wanton destruction of property as a form of justifiable protest?
We are told that the roots of all of this lies in the 400 years of slavery, Jim Crow, Jim Crow, Jr., voter suppression, discrimination, and humiliation.
So, I am looking back in time to those who experienced such breaches of human dignity and enacted atrocities that no civilized culture should ever embrace.
So, I read.
And, in this very first volume of Douglass’ not only do I find the utterly deplorable account of human evil against another eikon of God, I find the Church in the U.S. indicted as co-conspirator.
I grew up in the era when many Protestant denominations began to join hands with those who worked, (and suffered), for equality among races. They, at long last, began to lift their voices in harmony with their African American Sisters and Brothers. Soon, a thing called the “Social Gospel” became evident in the work done by these folks.
Almost immediately, a backlash from other less accommodating churches was unleashed.
I always thought it strange that any church should be against offering a hand to lift those trodden down through no real fault of their own. Excepting the amount of melanin in their skin.
Yet, as I studied church history in seminary I began to see another force at work.
The church of the South was instrumental in propping up the structures of slavery. It served a Balm of Gilead to the harassed consciences of women and men who knew in their hearts that what they were doing was an affront to God. At least, that’s how it looks to me. The slavers needed to know that what they were doing was in some way a just and righteous thing to do. The church of the South provided that assurance.
In my mind, though, I considered the counterparts of these, the church of the North, to be, in fact, righteous! Didn’t they house and protect the runaway? Weren’t their benevolences a means of setting the poor, former slaves on a track of self sustenance?
Well, maybe.
In the appendix to Douglass’ memoir I found in it information about the “Christianity of this land” that seems to include the Church in the U.S. at large.
He set this “Christianity” in contrast to what he named the “Christianity of Christ.”
Of this, he wrote,
“To receive the one [Christianity of Christ] as good, pure, and holy, is of necessity to reject the other as bad, corrupt, and wicked…I love the pure, peaceable, and impartial Christianity of Christ: I therefore hate the corrupt, slave holding, women-whipping, cradle-plundering, partial and hypocritical Christianity of this land.”
Pretty strong language.
And, rightly given.
As I reflected on these words I wondered, “what has changed in the 175 years since this narrative was written”?
I looked around, hopefully, to see if there were any, as the prophet Elijah once wondered, if there were any faithful in the land who may be found.
And, happily I saw sparks of hope glittering in the land. I allowed myself a moment to indulge that hope.
Then, I saw that Douglass’ “Christianity of this land” still in ascendancy and power.
For what have we gained as a community of faith when children are still snatched from their families at our southern border? What progress have the faithful made when our cities are still segregated by the remnants of ‘Red Lining’? How can we go to pray to a kind and loving God when our constituents rail against offering a hand to lift our Sisters and Brothers from the chains of ‘White Culture’ that still fetter and bind them?
So, for those who think that I unjustly hold up the dirty laundry of the Church in the U.S. for all to see, please know that I do so only to shine the light of Christ into the darkness of an unjust and cruel community that is complicit in the continued suffering of humans made in the Image of God.
Nor, do I exempt myself from culpability. I have lived my life in the White Light of Privilege that has allowed me to move about freely and without any encumbrance due to the color of my skin. So, before any accuse me of hypocrisy please know that i stand accused and convicted in the systems that have levied such a high cost to our own humanity as we degrade others.
I, too, must work hard to change myself and to see the transformation that God has asked of any who would carry the Banner of Christ.

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More Musing on Paul

What the heck did they do now?

I’ve been having a lot of fun studying Paul in general and, right now, his first letter to the Church at Corinth. Every time that I open the text or read the commentaries something new pops out. The world in which Paul wrote is so very different from ours. Besides the language there are the customs and culture that we simply cannot fully understand from our vantage point some 2,000 years away.
Yet, people are people regardless of where, or when, we find them. In an old television program the announcer told us that the stories we were about to hear were true. The names, however, were changed to protect the innocent. We were then able to relate to the characters because, like the announcer said, “They were real”!
The Bible can sometimes be kind of like that. The people and their stories were real. Only in this case, it’s the Time that’s changed. We can still relate to those folks. They were just like us in more ways than, perhaps, we’d like to admit.
So, when I read something like 1 Cor. 5:10-11 I can see a reflection of myself in those words. These two verses contain a similar catalog of vices. I understand that these kinds of lists existed in many forms at that time. They were useful rhetorically to paint images that would be easily remembered by people in an oral tradition. They also gave people like Paul a base-line template from which to draw common vices that readers/hearers could easily understand and relate to. They were part of a “common lexicon” of terms.
The people in the Church would have absolutely grasped what Paul was trying to tell them regarding those who are “immoral” or “grasping” or “swindlers.” And, they would have realized that if they were supposed to stay away from such people, they would need to remove themselves from society.
But, Paul wasn’t talking about people who practiced any of those listed vices in general. His pen was not aimed at anyone who was not a part of the Church. He agreed that it would be impossible to live and work in society if we had to avoid indiscriminate mixing with these people.
Apparently, the folks in the Church chose to mis-read Paul. They looked at his instructions from what may have been a previous letter and said, “What a Maroon! He thinks that we should build walls around us and live like hermits not mixing with anyone who simply lives life like a normal person.”
Yeah, I’m taking some liberties here. But, it is not to far from the mark when we consider how the so-called “Wise” people of the Church were looking for any reason to denigrate Paul. They worked hard to discredit him because he wasn’t their Ideal as a wise person.
Paul, in these verses, clarified his position.
He told them that he was talking about any so-called Sister or Brother IN. THE. CHURCH.
Now, there are a couple things here that pop out. These are things that the Church today would be wise to grasp.
First, Paul is NOT talking about our obligation to be Prophetic voices in our culture. We are called, yeah, I wrote “called,” to speak Truth to Power. I’ve written this before and I’ll write it again in the future. The systems that are baked into culture are not immune to the rebuke of the Lord Jesus as it is spoken through His followers. Racism, classism, homophobia, xenophobia, capitalism, socialism, and on and on and on all need to be addressed thoughtfully and, in the case of the Church, prayerfully. (**Prayerfully does not mean that action doesn’t need to take place. Prayerfully may help us discern WHAT action to take.)
Marching, protesting, boycotting, writing and speaking are all good and viable ways to speak to Power and, yes, judge it.
Second, Paul seemed to say that whatever my non-believing neighbor does that I would consider ‘sin’ is simply not my concern. If my neighbor is unfaithful to his wife, it’s not my job to go knock on his door and confront him. Of course, if the topic comes up in a natural discussion with him I may mention my opinion. But, I have no business judging him for it.
That’s God’s job and way above my pay grade.
However, if someone in the Church who is considered a Sister or Brother is involved in some illicit behavior or attitude, the Church does have a responsibility to deal with it. I have tried to emphasize Paul’s concern for the Church. He is ultimately concerned with Unity and with Building Up. Everything else is subordinate to those two things. And, in Paul’s mind what was happening at Corinth was damaging the Church, not building it up.
That’s part of my purpose, too. I truly desire that the Church become the best representation of Yahweh as is possible. Yeah, I get testy sometimes. I call out hypocrisy and error when I find it. I also encourage and root for those who are getting it right.
Unfortunately, there seems to be more error than not these days. Especially, when it comes to the Church’s responsibility to speak prophetically to culture AND in keeping its own house in order.
So, here I am with my little platform typing away day by day not knowing if anyone is actually paying attention. But, like I mentioned above, this is part of my ‘calling.’
I appreciate those who humor me by reading my ramblings.
Thanks!

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A Week in the Life of a Slave-review

Everyone loves a good story.
Stories create worlds where everything is possible. They allow us to visit places and times that are far beyond our experiences of everyday life. Stories can also reveal hidden treasures that enrich our understanding of the world in which we live.
The Bible is such a source that allows our creativity to imagine the lives of people who may only appear as a name in a verse or two. What was the lived experience of that person? What did they think about the world? What did they hear and taste and smell? What did they fear?
Dr. John Byron, Dean of Ashland Theological Seminary, recently published a book that opens our imaginations to consider these questions.
A Week in the Life of a Slave,” published by IVP Academic, tells the story of one of the Bible’s most famous slaves. A man known to us as Onesimus.
I must admit that as I began reading this book I was reminded of nature shows on television narrated by Sir David Attenborough. Attenborough is famous for his story telling style of narration. He takes viewers inside of the thoughts of various critters as they forage for food or search for a mate. Sprinkled within those stories he educates us on the reality of that world.
In a like fashion, Dr. Byron uses his creativity to weave a tale of the ancient world of the Bible. We meet the Apostle Paul as he sits in an Ephesian jail. Philemon, the person who owned the slave, Onesimus, comes to life as a person aggrieved by a slave who “committed the crime of stealing himself.” And, of course, Onesimus the runaway slave.
While most of us in the U.S. think about our own history regarding slavery, very few people consider the practice of ‘human ownership’ in the first century. If we do, like many in the Church today, even consider slavery, we tend to downplay the horrors that were part of everyday life for a slave at the time that St. Paul wrote. Byron, however, paints a very different picture. He does illuminate many differences between the ancient, Roman practice and our own antebellum chattel slavery. The similarities are also revealed to be all too real. Slaves were non-humans. Byron notes that the ancient philosopher, Aristotle, wrote that “a slave is a living tool and the tool a lifeless slave.” No, slavery within the Roman Empire was no walk in the park.
There is another story told, as well. That of the early Church as it fumbled and grasped to find its place in the world. Byron’s story shows the struggle that owners faced in that culture as they tried to reconcile the Love of Jesus with the pain of their slaves. How could Paul say that there was neither slave nor free when the reality of that world stated otherwise? And, how could free people think of themselves as ‘slaves for all’? These questions are ones that we today seldom discuss. We are conveniently ignorant of the labor pains that were present at the birth of our Church. Dr. Byron provides a snapshot of that delivery framed in the form of this book.
Dr. Byron is a well-known scholar who has specialized in studying Graeco-Roman slavery. There is no one better suited to write about this topic, and to present it in this way than Dr. Byron. Students, pastors, and lay people can all benefit from this book. I recommend it for anyone who desires to understand the 1st Century Church and the world it inhabited.

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Ah, Those Were The Days!!

Multi-Deck Flying Saucer ca. 1963

I remember…
Memory is a funny thing. It lives somewhere in the mind alongside colors and taste and imagination.
When I was a kid, my friends and I would spend hours drawing flying saucers. In the early 1960s science fiction was a growing genre that was sprinkled like so much fairy dust on our growing and developing little gray cells. We drew them just like they were portrayed on T.V. and in the movies. One long, narrow oval with a small dome on top.
Think of the original “The Day the Earth Stood Still.” How cool was Gort! We all wanted him as a friend.
“Mom! Can I stay up and watch T.V.?”
“No, Honey. It’s time for bed.”
“Gort! Go get her!”
Oh, yeah, I coulda used a buddy like that!

That’s how memory works.
Our minds are imprinted with information from every minute of every hour of every day of our lives. All of that information is retrievable.
But, none of it can help us to actually relive that time.
We cannot go back to that place.
The colors and smells and Feelings we experienced are backed-up on hard drives of flesh that reside within a thin layer of bone and fluid.

We like to think that memory is 20/20.
That those images and other sensory data that was stored within the folds of our minds is infallible is one of the fallacies that those same minds produce.
No one’s memory is infallible.
I think that even people with perfect recall, those who have what’s called a ‘photographic’ or long-term eidetic memory may see images or recall data. But, the ability to truly relive any given moment in time by remembering it doesn’t really exist. At least not for us mere mortals.

If true and complete memory does not exist, what about something like Nostalgia?

We all have moments when we glance back into our history and feel a touch, a longing for the ‘Good Ol’ Days.’ Don’t deny it! You do, too!
For a lot of folks these feelings create warm and fuzzy feelings. That’s what nostalgia does. Particularly, when society and culture are in flux.
I think back to my youth in the 60s when Civil Rights, the Viet Nam war,and Feminism were in the news cycle daily. My Dad and his friends longed for the days of Eisenhower when houses with white picket fences surrounded gardens of bright flowers and there was an apple pie cooling on the kitchen window. It so much better then! There wasn’t any of this demonstrating or riots or uppity Women.

Nostalgia.

One scholar, Svetlana Boym, quoted in https://thewayofimprovement.com/2020/07/22/nostalgia-for-a-past-that-never-existed/
wrote, “inevitably reappears as a defense mechanism in a time of accelerated rhythms of life and historical upheavals.”
With that in mind, we can think of Nostalgia kind of as a fear response to progress.
Progress = Change and
Change = ???
I think that we human critters are by nature afraid of change.
At least, it takes an effort to make a leap and embrace it.

Why mention all of this?
Yesterday I wrote a rather scathing piece about White Evangelicalism and politics.
Both groups that I accused of being in bed together are steeped in, c’mon you can guess!
Yep!
Nostalgia!

I don’t want to over-simplify a very complex issue involving feelings and memories and life experience.
However, if we even Could turn back time and flip all of those calendar pages back, we wouldn’t find that idyllic streetscape with all of the flowers and birds and dogs yapping gaily around us. We wouldn’t find Mr. & Mrs. Cleaver in their suit and dress with impeccable hair.
We would find reality.
A place where bullies roamed the schoolyard and bosses assaulted their secretaries.
We would find grit in our eyes from the nearby coal-fired power plants and the newspapers and T.V. news would reveal the dark underbelly of business and politics.

There is no going back.

Period.

Society and culture move forward to some as yet unknown vista.

With the support of family, friends, benevolence, and most of all Love we must look past the Past and, together, embrace God’s future.

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Religious Right: Hangin’ With Hookers

From Chicken Little: Fish out of water.

Sometimes I feel like that proverbial “Fish Out Of Water.”
Most of my vision and attention is on Christianity, specifically the Bible, and how it intersects with culture and church.
So much damage has been done to people because of the weaponization of both theology and Biblical study.
How many LGBT young people have been shunned by family and community as so-called religious leaders use the Scripture as a bludgeon to hammer these young folks like a blacksmith shaping iron?
“Hey, you Pious Pricks! These are humans made in the Image of God! Not something that you may objectify and form into your own likeness in the way that you have molded your god!”

Yet, sometimes I’m drawn out of the world of religion and into the world where people actually live and breathe. Hell, many of us argue that this ‘real world’ is the only place that religion is able to find its true footing. After all, Yahweh came and pitched God’s tent right here on Terra Firma in order to prove Divine Love for the Cosmos. When you think about that, it’s pretty amazing!

Today is one of those days that I find myself drawn into the world where faith and praxis intersect with culture. I am committed to trying to shine the Light of God and Faith into the darker recesses of our humanity. Places where injustice and oppression find themselves attempting to grow in God’s Garden like weeds and thistles.
(As an aside, I have been waging war on real thistles in my yard and garden. These intrusive weeds are ubiquitous to our area and are damned hard to kill. We have finally found a treatment for them. But, it requires cutting each individual plant and ‘painting’ the curative on the newly cut stem. Time consuming for sure. A pain in the back? Yep! But, it is effective. I’ve noticed a huge reduction in new sprouts. Maybe, just maybe, I can win this battle!)
That image is really quite relevant to the growth of weeds in the church at large. And, White Evangelicalism in particular.
Since the early 1980s when people like Jerry Falwell, Sr., Jim Dobson, Kenneth Copeland, Jimmy Swaggart, Jim & Tammy Faye Bakker, and others christened the so-called ‘Moral Majority’ and began to tout their brand of christianity there has been a decided shift in the winds of politics.
White Evangelicalism seemed to be drawn inexorably into the maelstrom of power. Since so much of their dogma was relegated to the outbox of relevancy, they chose to fire weapons of faith at their newly created Culture Wars.
In actuality, it wasn’t all that new. Religious powers had tried to enforce their particular brands of culture and morality on the world for pretty much Ever.
In the 1980s, however, their reach, or overreach, hit the airways of mass communication.
In a way that was good. It gave the wider world a chance to see the immoral power struggles that embraced religion in real time.
It was also, however, a means to ‘rally the troops.’ These conservative religious people sounded the clarion call to alert everyone that the world was on fire with atheists and communists and all sorts of mean & hateful people who were going to eat babies and wreak havoc on Mom, apple pie, and the ‘murican way!
Heaven have Mercy on us all!

What actually happened, though, was not a rescue mission to save the culture. It was not, in fact, even a religious call to repentance and faith.
The primarily White, conservative, Evangelical church became the de facto religious wing of the Republican party.
They traded their birthright, and absolutely abdicated any claim to the moral high ground, for a bowl of oatmeal.

The apostle Paul wrote, (you really didn’t think that I could resist bringing the Bible into this, did you?), a lot about how faith and culture should interact.
One image that I found while studying Paul is that of a person paying for sex with a prostitute. Paul was NOT writing to people who weren’t part of the Church. He wrote specifically to those who claimed to follow Jesus. And, while he was writing about a person actually interacting with a prostitute, the image, I think, bears on what is happening in the world of White Evangelicalism.
Paul wrote, “Don’t you know that whoever is united to a prostitute becomes one body with her? For it is said, ‘The two shall be one flesh’” (1 Cor. 6, NRSV).

I want to be clear that I believe that conservative religious people, particularly White Evangelicals, have climbed into bed with conservative politics, especially the Republican Party, and have engaged in relationships that have made you One Flesh with them.
How far can you fall before you reach the bottom?

I adjure you to consider the position that you are in. It’s precarious to say the least.
God is NOT for or against any political party or position.
God seeks the fruit of truth and justice.
All other fruit is tasteless and rotten.

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What Will It Take?

Earlier this summer we in the U.S. were witnesses to something that purported to be a “Movement.” Black Live Matter was written across our nation in ALL CAPS. Many of us who had lived through an earlier Movement during the Civil Rights struggle of the 60s as well as that of the Viet Nam war resistance viewed this new thing with, I think, a tinge of nostalgia. We were there. Our black and white, rabbit-eared televisions put us in the mix of the struggle.
Of course, most of us were mere children at the time. But, even we could sense the electricity in the air and smell the ozone of the sparks it created.
Many of those sparks erupted into full-blown conflagrations as Watts and Hough caught fire and burned.
I will never forget watching the police in Chicago press the ‘Suppress At All Costs’ button out in the streets during the Democratic National Convention in 1968.
Nor, will I ever stop mourning four dead young people on the campus of Kent State University when Gov. James Rhodes allowed the Ohio National Guard to use lethal force against protesters.

Many changes came about during those moments in history. Voting rights were gained by the disenfranchised in America. A war in some far away jungle was fought on nightly television news. And, we saw the end of an era on April 4, 1968 when Martin Luther King, Jr. Was murdered.

I say an end of an era because in many ways it was.
People in this nation had seen and experienced enough.
Enough anger; enough hate; enough killing.
It seems as though there’s only so much chaos that we humans can endure before we simply stop and close our eyes.

So, we convinced ourselves that we had all done a great job of addressing the many issues of the day. The good results we kept. The not so good we chalked up to ‘experience’ and walked away from.

In most places that process has a name.

Complacency.

That one word describes a sense that All Is Well. Or, at least it’s Not Terrible and we can live with it.
It reveals a people who are tired and who have no desire to press the struggle to its actual terminus.
“We’ve done pretty good! Well, at least pretty OK!” we say as we turn on the ball game and open a fresh bottle of Heineken’s.

Perhaps I’m just voicing my own cynicism.
I’ve seen this process happen so many times.
People mobilize and march and stage boycotts and the news carries this or that spokesperson for the “Cause du jour.”
Then there are the rebuttals that must be shown. Equal opportunity and all that.
Soon, the news cycle shifts to the high price of chicken because of some bacterial thing that made someone in B.F.E. puke.

Then, gone.
Forgotten.

It seems that only when people break windows and burn cars and yell and scream and throw things…it’s only THEN that people pay attention.
I read the NY Times for Sunday.
There was a lot about the late John Lewis. As there rightly should be. He was a giant among Humanity.
However, the causes that he fought for were conspicuously missing.
Black Lives Matter?
The only coverage was about the Federal Government’s illegal activity in Oregon.
I haven’t seen a word about any marches or rallies on local media.
In fact, the absence of coverage for PEACEFUL and NON-VIOLENT activity, the very things that Congressman Lewis gave his life for was deafening.

Seriously, folks.
Do we need to burn the country down in order to secure some semblance of Justice for what the Bible names, “the least of these?”
Will it take more deaths and disaster to finally show us that we are all Equal in God’s eyes? So, dammit! We should be equal in one another’s eyes as well?
What will it take?
We’ve been at this a long, long time and the same issues are still raising their Hydra Heads.

I don’t know.
I hope that I will be able to see some life in our culture before mine ends.
But, that hope hangs on a thread.

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Friday Musing_7/17/2020

I used to wonder why, if God desired love and justice in the world, why were we church folks only concerned about what happened after we left the world.
I know, it seems like a silly question. But, that’s exactly how many people who say that they follow Jesus think.
The rationale was that saving people from eternal, conscious torment was more important than providing for a good education or a leg up in the world.
If you ask many churchy people, they will say, “Well, duh! Of course eternity is of greater value than an education that will ultimately pass away!”
And, from within that religious bubble, that’s hard to argue with.

But, what if, as I’ve argued before, there is no Hell where people are toasted for eternity?

The African American Church can guide us here.
Born out of the true Hell of chattel slavery, they found a way to embrace the God of their captors. They found hope and love within the very same Bible that those who held the chains of their bondage.

For them, however, God was not a pious white man on a gleaming throne away off in some heaven. The streets of which mere mortals could never tread. The white god of those who imprisoned their bodies was only interested in keeping things the way that the white people always wanted them. That god sanctioned slavery. The white god cursed all who were NOT white. “The sin of Ham caused all of his seed to be dark and cursed,” this god exclaimed!

No. The God that the African Americans found was a God who walked with them in the fields as the chopped cotton or hoed the rows of tobacco. The God they knew promised to lead them from the bondage of slavery just as this same God rescued the Children of Israel all those many years ago.
They KNEW God as their friend, benefactor, and ultimately, their deliverer.

And, they have never forgotten that God.

Suffering was reality. Pain constant.
Yet, Jesus had come to this world to put an end to suffering.
His death and resurrection was the final act of redemption that rejected suffering as the way that life must be. As one writer put it,

“Through the Suffering Servant, God has spoken against evil and injustice. The empty cross and tomb are symbols of the victory.”

[Townes, Emilie M., A Trioubling in My Soul: Womanist Perspectives on Evil & Suffering, Emilie M. Townes, ed., Maryknoll, NY, 1993, p.84.]

With this hope in their hearts, God was the Agent of Transformation where justice and hope were not some pie in the sky dream. These things became the real, tangible call for all who would put their hand to the plow of Faith.

Yet, the White church continued to hold up their Bibles and cry, “Foul! We must obey what the Word of God says! Slaves, obey your masters!”

How far from the mark of God’s Glory were they!!!
The White church abdicated its responsibility to be light and salt in the world in order to fill their barns with the bounty of the harvest.
And, like in that story Jesus told, God said,

“You fool! This very night your soul is required of you; and now who will own what you have prepared?”

[New American Standard Bible: 1995 update. (1995). (Lk 12:20). La Habra, CA: The Lockman Foundation.]

Emilie Townes wrote

“Obedience that is blind to the world and only follows directions has divested itself of all responsibility for what it is commanded to do.”

[Townes, Emilie M., A Trioubling in My Soul: Womanist Perspectives on Evil & Suffering, Emilie M. Townes, ed., Maryknoll, NY, 1993, p.87.]

That blind obedience to ancient texts taken out of context and applied with an iron and unbending arm is what has happened, and continues to happen, in so, so many white churches.

It is past time to awaken the Church. Until we heed God’s call to provide justice to the poor, the widow, the foreigner, and all marginalized people we have no right to say that we are fully and truly disciples of Jesus.

We just can’t.

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Un-Fathered

Unseen vistas reveal themselves with every step I take into the world of God. I have walked the oft-trodden, yet rarely observed paths of the Spirit as She blows through the brilliant flowers, trees, and grasses that form the lines of the Scriptures.
It seems that the more I observe and marvel at, more and more beauty and grace appear.

This is not to say that the paths that the Breath of God leads me along are always pleasant for me. No, sometimes I am stung by some insect that follows me. Buzzing in my ear, brushing against my hair and skin, it is a reminder that the paths we walk are still real and within the bounds of this present life.
I read in those ancient texts stories of people who, like me, worried their way along these same pathways. They were led by the same Spirit. Perhaps, they were even stung by that same bothersome insect.
And, while their time and place are foreign to me, I can still feel what they felt and sense what they sensed.
We are, after all, born of the same stuff.

That’s why the text that we looked at last Sunday in the Bible study at St. Barnabas became alive to me in a brand, new way. There was a new vista revealed as I crested the hill.

We have spent the last several weeks working our way through the first 4 chapters of St. Paul’s first letter to the Church at Corinth. Paul wrote that he had been made aware of divisions and factions that had broken along the fault lines of honor and shame. The folks there seemed to find their own sense of honor and worth by casting their lots with one apostle over against another. This one follows Paul; the other Apollos. Paul would have none of that and wrote that the system they used to measure worth was deeply flawed. Through example, irony, and metaphor he urged them to seek the One True Measure which is God through Christ. If the folks at Corinth desired true Wisdom, they need look no further than the Cross of Christ. That, alone, exemplified God’s Wisdom.

In chapter 4, Paul seems to shame the people in that young Church. He pointedly revealed the foolishness of the path that they were taking.
But, he switched gears and told them,

“I am not writing this to shame you, but to warn you as my dear children.”
He continued,
“I became your father through the gospel.”

There it was!
A new sun rising above the horizon of my limited understanding.
Paul wrote this letter, not to wield a rod of correction. It was not so that he expound some great, spiritual truth to them. It wasn’t even really to cajole them into following his instructions.

It was to remind them that he was their father in the faith.

The folks in Corinth had Un-Fathered Paul.

And, that was the cause of much of his pain and concern.

I was reminded, then, of another story like this.
In the Gospel According to Luke the writer related a story about a father and his two sons.
This story is commonly referred to as the story of the Prodigal Son, although the Father is the main character.
The story begins with the younger of the two sons going to his father and requesting his inheritance. This may not appear all that big of a deal to those of us inhabiting the 21st century. However, at the time this story was told, that request would have been scandalous. What we miss is that the request was, in fact, the younger son’s wish that the father was dead so that he could take what he deemed was his.

“Father, I want my inheritance!”

To that the father could reply,

“When I die you will receive it!”
“No, Father, I want it NOW! For, you are dead to me”

That’s how this story would have been heard by those Jesus told it to.
How much this reveals about the Father’s love later in the story!
But, that’s a story that must wait for another time.

The younger son un-Fathered his own father.
He wished that his father HAD died.
His only concern was his own life and desires.

I saw this story brightly reflected in Paul’s response to his Children in the Faith.
I could feel his sense of loss and betrayal.
I could understand his heart as he tried to reveal the potential danger that these children of his were running toward.
“Stop! Wait! There’s a cliff there and you’re about to run off of the edge!”

For those who have experienced the pain of this type of loss, I don’t need to explain it.
For those who haven’t, well, let’s all just hope and pray that you never do.
It is pain above any other. Especially, because of the helplessness that is alive and biting, boring into the heart and soul.
Yeah, I get what Paul was doing here.
He was simply being a loving father to those who owned a piece of his heart.

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