Church of the Painted Hills, UCC (CPH) has had a long term mission focus on Casa Maria Soup Kitchen, which is a Catholic Worker House inspired by Dorothy Day. Casa Maria focuses on feeding Tucson’s homeless population.
On October 30th, 2014 CPH invited the Casa Maria Kitchen workers to CPH for a dinner that we provided. The dinner gave us a more intimate look into the faces behind Casa Maria.
Each of the workers talked about what brought them to Casa Maria. We heard stories of terrible circumstances, such as Mexican border crossings in bloody shoes, abandonment, and finding food in dumpsters. Then, the workers shared how Casa Maria got them back on their feet, and how their works of mercy filled their hearts with joy.
Through the years, CPH has made sandwiches for Casa Maria on the third Tuesday of each month (many thanks to Nancy Ullrich’s leadership). Last Christmas the church also rallied and bought items Casa Maria needed: a huge new soup pot, two ladles, and a large capacity coffee maker.
Through the years, many people at CPH have volunteered at Casa Maria—hauling in deliveries of produce, making and serving soup, making sacked lunches… To continue that tradition I called Brian Flag at Casa Maria and asked him when volunteers would be most appreciated. He said that they tend to be short-handed on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays.
So, some interested folks and I zeroed in on Fridays. At present, Mary (pictured above), Amos, and Connie are volunteering on the first and third Fridays of each month. And Denise and Karen are volunteering on the second and fourth Fridays of each month. So at present CPH has Fridays covered at Casa Maria!
On average Casa Maria feeds 500 homeless per day and delivers 2,000 family grocery bags per week!
CPH Dinner for Casa Maria Homeless Kitchen Workers | October 30th, 2014CPH Sandwich Making Assembly Line for Casa Maria | 2013Large Soup Pot, Coffee Maker, & Ladles CPH gave to Casa Maria | Christmas of 2014
Amos and Mary bagging lunches for homeless at Casa Maria | September 2015
First, gentle readers, a confession: I’ve got a lot at stake in this whole church thing working out. I suspect that most of you do too. I begin by letting you know that this might be way off-base as I definitely have a pro-church bias. You’ve been warned. I also begin with a bit of clarification; in the title I mean “all churches doing ministry in the 21st century, in this time of movement out of Modernity and toward whatever is next.” To state the obvious: some churches are already postmodern and some are not. The clarification wouldn’t make a very good permalink.
So what is church? What’s the purpose? What are we doing and why do we do it?
In my own answer I’m indebted to teachers in the tradition of the Ecumenical Order and its contemporary offspring: Realistic Living and Profound Journey Dialog. This is a whole rabbit-hole, but I tell you this just to make clear that these ideas aren’t my own.
Church is people who are watching, waiting, and acting.
by Peter on Flickr
In the words of H. Richard Neibuhr, church are those sensitive and responsive people who are first to perceive God’s work in the world and first to respond. To me, this is beautiful imagery. I imagine millions of sensitive and responsive people, those who care, looking around, finding God at work, and joining in. Church folks are the “what’s next?” people. In my mind, all of us sensitive and responsive ones are pausing every once in a while, looking toward the horizon, testing the winds… to see if God is moving in a new way in our world.
Despite this lovely calling to pioneer God’s work in the world, the church isn’t doing so well. You don’t have to look very far to find various bloggers, authors, ministers, and public personae having a big conversation about how close to death the institutional church is in our time. I’m not interested in having that debate. It’s clear that church has changed, is changing, can anticipate additional changes. Because I believe in celebrating and being thankful for what is, I’m looking for the gifts in all this change.
Gift #1: Smallitude One of the biggest challenges facing the church is the commoditization of worship and community life. A couple of examples will give you a feel for what I’m getting at. I work at a church with an unabashedly progressive theology. Every summer, some of our families attend Vacation Bible School programs at other churches with very different dogma and cosmology. It’s something wholesome for the kids to do in the summer. A couple of years ago, I got an email right before Christmas from a family explaining that they would be attending Christmas eve services at a church closer to their home. Every church has candles and Silent Night, right? I’m not criticizing these families’ decisions, but I am pointing toward an idea that, for many people, church is something that fits or doesn’t fit the family’s needs and schedule, much like sports teams and music lessons. Folks shop around, and churches put their best foot forward to get in on the action. It’s consumerism and it seems so natural, so much ‘just the way things work,’ that we can’t see it.
We’re better when we’re smaller.
Last year, I got a birthday card with a cartoon of Jesus on the front, captioned ‘Jesus on Twitter.’ His little thought balloon said, “Twelve followers… Sweet!”
Smaller means more intimate, less pretentious. Smaller means more consensus and fewer committees. Sometimes smaller means more REAL.
Gift #2 Permission to put Vision in the driver’s seat… and stop using the R-word! Big churches have lots of programs. There’s not a thing wrong with programs. But programming (lots of Bible studies, small groups, family activities, fitness plans, travel) can be a distraction from a congregation’s shared vision.
When a faith community puts an emphasis on programs, they run the risk of people leaving when the church down the street offers a program they like better. So program planning becomes a vicious circle: offer more, fancier, more polished programs in brand new buildings or via shiny fast technology. Church leadership becomes focused on numbers and fear. A church focused on numbers and fear – no matter how nice their brochures or how hip their website it – is dying. We are tempted to measure success with spreadsheets and numbers rather than with transformation.
The alternative is to let vision run the show. A shared, energizing, hopeful vision for the future – not just the future of an individual church, but the future of a movement, the future of the earth community. It’s risky, occasionally chaotic. But it’s exciting.
When vision drives the church and becomes the center of decision-making and resource allocation, the church no longer needs to worry about being relevant. (Side Rant: I HATE talk about getting relevant. Bleh.) We get behind the vision, do the work we are called to do, and leave the judgments for history to decide. In other words, when we are busy working, we don’t have time for hand-wringing conversations about being relevant.
Gift #3 Relationship gets more than just talk All churches talk about relationship. It’s a buzzword. The hype around relationships is crazy-making. A friend of mine had an interesting experience with a large Phoenix church. The relationships this church seemed ready to build were with her husband (with a manly, trade show vibe) and with her children (with contemporary music and lots of technology). When they stopped attending, no one noticed.
Everyone’s a pastor. Everyone is a caregiver. I struggled with this in my first year as a church staffer. I had this idea that I would swoop in, fix the education programming (meaning, that I would fill a calendar grid with classes and speakers), and things would just get magically better. Caregiving was just not in the picture. Then I helped lead a retreat (more programming! LOL) in which there were two people in a lot of pain. One was grieving; the other was working through some painful experiences in her past. This second participant had an obvious ‘tell:’ when she would talk about her family life and the difficulties they had experienced, she would grin largely and nervously. The grin masked, just barely, the struggle. I did a lot of caregiving that weekend and since. It’s changed the way I listen, the way I show up, the way I measure my accomplishments in any given week. I’m still growing in this area and feel so grateful for the grace my community shows me as I learn.
Everyone is a caregiver.
Gift #4 Getting Creative… because it’s required In the 1950s when everyone went to church, I imagine that creativity was a luxury. When everything was going well and the church was ahead on budget items, the staff would get creative.
These days, creativity is an everyday thing. Newly minted M.Div. graduates get creative when putting together their call to ministry in order to become ordained. Children’s ministry teams get creative when they don’t have a budget for the off-the-shelf pageant or VBS curriculum. Churches discover that they have gifts sitting RIGHT THERE IN THE PEWS! Chefs, teachers, organizers, plumbers, drivers, engineers pitch in to do the work we are called to do.
Gift #5 Lay Leadership Gets Real Again, I imagine that in days gone by, lay leadership was something a little extra. Churches set aside a day in the fall to recognize the church board chair and the Sunday School teachers. Isn’t that nice? The niceness was propped up by a culture of single income nuclear families and at-home caregivers.
Now, there is less of a division between authorized ministry and lay leadership. More ministers have day jobs to pay the bills. We are getting rid of the idea that being called to ministry requires a Rev in front of your name. These are “fighting words” for some of my friends and colleagues, and this warrants much more digital ink, but this is what I see.
Additionally, despite the necessity of intensive volunteer work and expertise and involvement, there are fewer June Cleavers in our pews. There’s a squeeze of time that we are all living with. AND YET… I see busy and passionate people at board and team meetings every week, prioritizing God’s work over the millions of distractions technology and culture afford us.
UN Photo/Logan Abassi
Church is people who are watching and waiting – looking toward the margins to see the next place where God is at work. Church is people who are acting – serving peace and justice on behalf of all. These pioneering actions continue to happen despite the naysayers who are ready to write the church’s obituary. A smaller church for postmodernity can be MUST BE a visioning church, a caring church, a countercultural church, a serving church.
I hope I’m at least a little bit right. I’m leaning in with this church thing. Peace to all.
Matthew 5:47-48 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
“And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”
The smell of wet glue and drying paint lingered near the kitchen table filled with new arts and craft projects. My sister asked if I could tell which of the creative pieces had been made especially for me? I nodded no and then she slowly began to point out all the ones with glitter. We hadn’t yet talked to the kids about my sexuality, but as an out gender-queer gay person I chuckled with her at what my young nieces and nephew had seemingly picked up on.
I’m not personally a fan of glitter, but it’s been around a long time. It can be traced all the way back to cave paintings in 40,000 B.C. Ancient civilizations (including the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans) used it. It’s quite possible glitter could have been a part of any number of our Bible stories. Maybe the dramatic Bathsheba wore it in shimmering make up long before the androgynous Ziggy Stardust in the early 1970’s? Maybe the prodigal son had celebrated with it like the New York City club kids did in the 1990’s?
The at-risk and homeless LGBTQ youth I minister with LOVE glitter for all the reasons I don’t. Glitter reflects light, it covers up imperfections, and it has a dark side. Yes a dark side, because it gives a false impression. For these beloved youth, glitter brings sanctuary. Through their experiences they’ve been taught they’re unattractive, unworthy, and disposable. The glitter hides deep scars and makes the ugliness of their world appear more beautiful. God knows they deserve some beauty.
Skylar Lee became a statistic this week. He was a 16-year old high school student and transgender advocate with a bright future. He was an accomplished writer and had just published a story about his difficult journey to self-discovery. Identifying as a queer transgender person of color, he found it difficult to survive while sharing messages of hope to other young struggling trans teens. Last Monday Skylar posted a suicide note on Tumblr and then took his own life. Social media was abuzz.
We act surprised. We grieve. But let’s keep it real. A 2014 analysis of the National Transgender Discrimination Survey by the Williams Institute found that more than 50% of the students who were bullied in school due to anti-transgender bias had attempted suicide. If that wasn’t bad enough, the number of reported suicide attempts jump to 78% for students who’ve experienced physical or sexual violence at school. And surveys of shelters in 2011 & 2012 found that 40% of homeless teens identified as LGBT. That number is staggering when you consider what a small percentage of homeless teens actually identify as LGBT. These are our children. Why are we so apathetic to their plight? Why do we reinforce the negative lessons they’ve learned, through our silence? Why aren’t we diligently working to create positive systemic changes for them? Why don’t we realize they’re dying?
The Hebrew word for “perfect” is “tamiym.” It’s translated as without blemish, whole, and complete. I believe our LGBTQ youth/young adults are perfect. They’re almost all survivors of the worst neglect and/or abuses. I thank God every day for the miracle that they are still alive, and fighting to remain so. A few have served time in prison, a few have issues with alcohol and/or drugs, a few sell their bodies for food and shelter; and I’d like to believe in God’s eye’s they all remain unblemished. We need to be the adults. We need to take responsibility for relegating so many of our own children to the gutter. We’re the imperfect ones, we should be carrying their scars.
In faith we are asked if we are greeting anyone besides our own brothers and sisters. We are asked to move into perfection ourselves by caring for the unlovable stranger. I’ve heard it preached that perfection in the Bible is often referred to as blameless. Skylar Lee was blameless. We failed to teach Skylar of his worth and now he’s gone. No doubt there will soon be another announcement of an LGBTQ youth/young adult committing suicide.
Isn’t Skylar’s life enough? What are we going to do? What are our churches going to do? When will we attempt to move toward perfection by making a difference in the lives of today’s LGBTQ youth and young adults? They don’t need glitter. They need us.
PRAYER
While dreaming of a world where glitter is no longer needed, we pray to our unlimited and unconditionally loving God. You have called us toward perfection. May we be moved toward you by loving the unlovable. May we be moved toward you by giving voice to those told they are disposable. Move us through our complacency to action as we bring health, wholeness, and justice to our LGBTQ children. Amen, let it be so.
DID YOU KNOW?
The first American transgender suicide helpline, entirely staffed by transgender people, has just opened. God’s transgender children can call the Trans Lifeline at 877-565-8860. Please share some light and spread the word.
A friend of mine was telling me about his pastor’s sermons recently. He said that his pastor uses sermon props every single Sunday and seems to be trying to make his sermons “cool.” My friend confessed that, in spite of the props, he can’t remember a single point from any of his pastor’s sermons. He said the sermons seem gimmicky, and they just aren’t memorable. Of course, I hoped he wasn’t secretly talking about my sermons and that this wasn’t some kind of subtle intervention for me.
For anyone other than a blazing narcissist, preaching is humbling. You study and prepare. You pray for God’s Spirit to move. You stand up and speak from the heart, laying yourself bare. Then after the service, some well-meaning member of your congregation makes a comment revealing that he was completely oblivious to everything you said. No wonder Sunday afternoons are described as the pastor’s hangover. After all that work, we at least want to know that people will remember something from our sermon.
There could be several reasons why the above pastor’s sermons aren’t memorable. Maybe it’s the use of props every weekend that makes all of the sermons run together so that what is supposed to be creative and memorable is not. Maybe the pastor is parroting clichés instead of sharing profound content. Maybe he’s trying to make too many points in his sermons, and the content gets lost in the rubble.
Emotion and Memory
It turns out that there could be another reason. Some psychological studies have supported the theory that we more vividly remember ideas or events that move us emotionally. According to their findings, we are more likely to remember what we feel, what moves our emotions. In a University of Arizona study, psychologists Reisberg and Hertel suggest that we remember parts of events that produced an emotion in us, and we forget parts of events that did not produce an emotion in us.[i]
In Memory and Emotion, the same authors site two separate studies that used visual images to produce an emotion in participants. The result should make every preacher shout “Hallelujah!” They found that it was not just the visual images that created powerful emotional memories, but it was the story connected to the pictures that produced emotion … in other words, pictures with narration! While visual images aided in the telling of the story, it was the spoken word that produced the powerful emotional memories in participants. In both studies, memory was enhanced by the emotional experience created by narration!
The implications of these findings on preaching are obvious. Your sermons are the narration, and you can give your congregation mental images coupled with stories that move them emotionally, so that they remember the images.
To be clear, I am not encouraging emotional manipulation. Manipulation is always wrong, and insightful people can tell if a speaker is feigning emotion or telling a schmaltzy story just to make them cry. The truth is that life itself is intensely emotional, and if you preach sermons that matter to life, you will move people, and they will remember what you say.
Here is an example. Last year, Pope Francis stopped a parade and walked over to a man suffering with a disease that has produced skin deformities all over his body. As the Pope walked toward him, no one was prepared for the emotional impact of what the Pope would do. The Pope wrapped his arms around the man, kissed his forehead, and prayed with him for about a minute. On its own, the Pope’s warm embrace of this hurting, often-rejected man is a powerful image.
The narration is the man’s story. His name is Vinicio Riva, and he has suffered from this disease since he was 15 years old. Get this. Since developing the disease, he has felt rejected by his father.[ii] His father, who is still living, is embarrassed of him and rarely shows any affection toward his son. Vinicio has walked through life feeling the continual stares and rejection of other people, including his own father. That all changed, however, when the Pope embraced him on international television. Even though Vinicio’s father rejected him, the Holy Father, and Vinicio’s Father in heaven, embrace him as a beloved son. That’ll preach! Your congregation will never forget the unconditional acceptance communicated by that powerful image coupled with moving narration.
Here are some ways to tell if you’re preaching sermons that move people:
Does it move you?
Do you feel the importance of what you’re saying? If not, why bother? Find something that moves you, or why preach it?
Are you communicating with passion?
You will, if the content matters to you. Let your emotion show in ways that are appropriate to your context. Even well mannered, upper middle class Americans want to be moved. They want to experience life in all of its fullness, and you can help them do that.
Do you tell true-to-life stories to illustrate your sermon point(s)?
Stories, or plot lines, are what move us emotionally. You will not move people with a bullet point list, alliteration, or academically presented information. Of course, sermons do present information, but in order to move people, you have to illustrate information with emotionally powerful images and stories.
When you tell stories, do you communicate the real emotion that would be expected in that story?
Some pastors tell cliché-like simple stories that skip over all of the real emotion that someone would experience if they were in that story. Life is not a tidy little fable. Ask someone who is facing a crisis right now. Cute little stories lacking emotional depth do not speak to someone whose child has been diagnosed with a disease, someone wrestling with questions, or someone who is facing relational brokenness.
Tell stories that are true to the deepest pains and highest joys of life. Ask yourself, “How do the various parts of this story make me feel?” Then honestly communicate that emotion as you tell the story.
Most importantly, are you in touch with your own emotional life?
If you are not aware of your own emotion, you will not be able to connect with your congregation emotionally. This is the most important point. When you get real about what’s going on in you, then other people will see your emotion and connect with you on a deep level. Get honest with yourself, and preach from your gut!
Something that has helped me become more aware of my own emotions is self-monitoring. It sounds incredibly simple, but in actuality, it requires courageous and focused soul-searching. To practice self-monitoring, ask yourself, “How do I feel right now, and why?” Try this a few times a day, and see what happens! You may discover sources of your feelings that you never imagined… and you will know how you feel and why.
When you feel it and communicate it, they will feel it too. As you couple powerful images with moving narration, both you and your congregation will be emotionally affected, and the result will be a sermon they remember.
We are called to love. We are called to love those around us. What about this, though: Those around us are who we are called to love.
This removes the fantasy element of all of this. Now we are dealing with names, dates, places and times. We are dealing with life in real time. This is a different discussion all together because it is the marrow of life, the relationship aspect of our dwelling together. And it’s where everything can get messed up. There are so many moving parts that often require intention and care.
Anne Lamott says that we are on this Earth without a manual because this is forgiveness school. Wouldn’t that be something? If my purpose on this Earth was to be able to forgive? My access to self-forgiveness and my access to forgiving those around me often get in the way of my call to love. Now my ability to recount every wrong that someone has done is amazing. Where others may have athleticism, I have this down pat. If the Olympics offered resentment as a sport, you’d want me representing you there! And I am certain I am not alone in that. I am certain we could spend just a little time observing the world around us and find some Olympic quality resentment. And we don’t even have to observe the world around us; we can simply observe the world within us.
This is lived experience. Lived experience is often far different from imagined experience. It is in the lived experience that we get to have access to realities that change the very fiber of our being. Those around us, right now, are who we are called to love.
The recounting of wrongs, resentment embracing and the tit for tat lived experience does not allow access to grace. It allows access to what is due, not what is healing. A lived experience in which we keep record of wrongs and the score card limits our own access to grace. There is something so life affirming in affording someone else grace when the score card is full. In my own spiritual development, I have recognized that when I turn toward forgiveness and choosing love, I am turning toward that in my own life as well. I open that door to you and suddenly that door is open to me. I have access to a lived experience that before was completely blocked. I have access to the very love that I long for because I have offered it to another.
Richard Rohr speaks eloquently on this topic in his book, “Breathing Under Water” which is his description of choosing a life lived in spirit. He says this, “Grace will always favor the prepared mind.” It is not that grace isn’t extended to all. It is. Grace is all around. The love of God is all around. Our ability to have access to this grace and love is often in direct proportion to our willingness to turn toward love.
I lived in South Africa in the late 90’s. I was a 7th grade school teacher. I moved there at age 18 so I was a baby teaching babies. I was having it out one day with one of the students, Akhona Mvandaba. We had argued and argued and argued that year. I offended him. He offended me. Our score cards were oh so full! I don’t remember what triggered the moment of change, but something did. He said something that I didn’t like and we were on our way to the principal’s office. He had his angry face on and so did I. We were huffing up the way when our path was blocked by a Mama. Her name was Esther.
She asked why we were angry. I let it out, listing his bad parts that were just not acceptable. Then he let it out listing all the reasons why I just was not good people. As we took turns, Esther took my hand in her hand. She then reached for his hand. We continued as she held our hands. She began to say “Peace. Peace. Peace.” I responded to Akhona’s last sentence with furvor and anger. She started to rock with a sway, side to side, “Peace. Peace.” It went back and forth as she swayed. And the quiet began to rest on me. It began to rest on him. Peace. Peace. I cried. He cried. It was such a hard year. “Peace. Peace.”
She blocked our path to anger and spoke peace into our beings. And something changed fundamentally. There was no anger left, just sadness at all the moments we didn’t love each other. We swayed with her and the gentle rocking presence of God rested on us. Peace. Peace.
Those around us are who we are called to love. As Richard Rohr so eloquently put:
“Grace will always favor the prepared mind.” But then he continues, “Maybe we can sum it up this way: God is humble and never comes if not first invited, but God will find some clever way to get invited.”
Look around. The invitation is right in front of you.
Peace.
Peace.
Image above: My students at Valley Dawn Christian School in Willowvale, South Africa. Akhona is in the back row second from left. – Dax
The belief in God has never been something that I have struggled with before. Even as a young child, it was just something that made sense to me. I was able to see a flow in life. I had a pretty clear understanding of kindness, compassion and love. I gravitated toward those who operated in these fruits of the spirit. My grandma would whisper messages to me as she rocked me to sleep and I would absorb them. She told me I was precious to God. She told me God loved me. I believed it without a second thought. What this gave to me was the belief that I was in this world for a reason and that reason had something to do with being loving.
I have a dear friend that describes her faith in a way that is simply brilliant. She has given me permission to use it publicly as it is something that I love so much and I come back to quite often. She describes herself as a children’s Bible thumper. Isn’t that fantastic? When she expands on this more she talks about really getting behind the God of the children’s Bible. The children’s bible has an overarching message. You were created by God and you are so very loved. Nice.
Then we hit puberty and we are all lost. Just utterly lost; rough stuff. Nothing that was is now. Along with that, suddenly, the message changes. The children’s Bible gets dark. It becomes more like Grimm’s Fairy Tales. For many faith communities, all of our desires and thoughts and wishes become somehow bad in some way; something to be denied and certainly to be controlled. The children’s bible will no longer do! For me, this is when intense shame entered the picture for me. My sense of belonging also became challenged as I walked toward the fringe, afraid if those people who say they loved me really knew what I thought and felt, I would be cast out.
The children’s bible version of life is often something that we can get behind. It doesn’t take too much to get us there. We seek to be loved and it feels mighty good when we experience love ourselves. I recently found out from a segment on 60 minutes about dogs that my dog likes to look at me. I have a pit bull mix that I have had since she was teeny tiny. She stares at me. A lot… Like all the time. I honestly have felt burdened by this because I thought she wanted something. Does she need to go outside? Does she want to play? What does she want?
It turns out she just wanted to stare at me because it is enjoyable to her. When she stares at me, her brain releases oxytocin. We like oxytocin. So we do things that will allow us to feel that chemical change. We are called to love and that is a good, good thing. We desire that feeling of love. It moves us and changes us to love.
So we are called to love. Yes, we can get behind that.
Let’s add to that now. We are called to love those around us.
One of the perks I have found in coming to church is that I get to imagine doing “better”, whatever better looks like given the topic at hand. We get to sit in our pews and chairs, listen to a message and apply that message to imagined circumstances. We can have imagined conversations where we put into practice some fundamental spiritual discipline. I can just see myself being loving next time I encounter whatever made it difficult last time. I am going to rock being kind and forgiving at the office on Monday. It’s going to be good.
I can create scenarios with a sense of ease in my head where I am either the hero or I am the regretful one, ready to do it different next time. But I am still imagining. I am running through scenarios, making minor promises to myself that I will do it different next time. I will really do it well.
We are called to love those around us. There is a small human that I know and love. He has been on this earth for about a decade. He is the son of two of my friends. Since his first years of being able to express himself, he has expressed a deep love for others. His ability to empathize is simply incredible. One aspect of him that is true over and over is his desire to see equality and fairness throughout the world. He has just been baffled by America’s reticence to accept all adult couples who desire marriage. It simply did not make sense to him. In June, when his mom told him the news that marriage equality had happened in America, he was thoughtful. And then his response a moment later, “Mom, now they have to be able to marry in the rest of the world.”
We are called to love those around us and the world was all around him. We can imagine as we sit here, loving others. And I do believe that is a powerful tool. The ability to imagine ourselves in a situation is often a step in living into that situation. So, as we sit here in this moment, reading these words, we are likely able to get behind the concept that we are called to love those around us.
Let’s sit with the spiritual gift of imagined experience. Spend time holding onto that and let’s check in again on Wednesday because there is more to this than a simple imagined experience. There is lived experience.
“My gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.”
I begin this article with a confession. I should probably have used the #IWASKIMDAVIS hashtag for my Twitter and Facebook posts last month, because I’m one of those older ministers whose views have changed, and I’m chagrined to think of some of my past sermons and comments. My Christian life began in the Evangelical camp and I remained there for more than a decade. “You can only know what you know” and for years the only theological writings that I came across were of the typical and unfortunate category labeling “homosexuality” as a choice and a sin. Given that background, when I came across GLBT Christ followers, I could only see them as a challenge—challenging the presuppositions that I held.
My sister proved to be my salvation in this regard; without her I might still cling to a very limited view of God’s mercy, along with a hyper-literalist approach to the Bible. She has always been a model Christ-follower in our family (although I’m the one with the formal degree in theology). Simply by being herself, Joyce witnessed to me that my spiritual siblings who loved their partners of the same sex are as faithful to Christ and as transformed by the Spirit as I (nay, they are more so). And I’ve come to realize that my gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.
As the culture wars heat up I’ve become intensely aware of how Christians get painted with a broad brush stroke. That came to a head a few weeks ago when a long-time friend told me “You’re not a Christian. If you choose that word to self-identify that’s your right, but I know Christians and you’re not that.” Now, she meant that as a compliment—her way of acknowledging that I’ve become a more inclusive and broad-minded person. But it also stung, because that accusation divides me within myself. Bombarded by the statements of right-wing politicians, preachers and ordinary believers, I struggle with doubts. Have I hit upon a truer faith now, or am I deluding myself to remain in a religion that has so long been characterized by oppression? Why couldn’t I have chosen a religion like Buddhism or Jainism that isn’t regarded as evil? Yes, I’m part of a big UCC family, with many inclusive fellow believers, but our numbers (around a million) are pretty small compared to more conservative groups like the Southern Baptists (15 times as many). And then I keep hearing old friends tell how they’ve left the faith and are so much more congruent embracing atheism (they do a good job evangelizing for their non-faith).
So am I crazy to keep believing? Thank God for the example of gay believers—they give me hope to keep on. If any group has reason to feel the sting of Christian guilt-by-association, it’s them. They’ve been told for centuries that their faith is illegitimate, that they are shameful and unloved by God. Yet their experience belies those lies and they continue to proclaim love for Jesus.
I read John Fortunato’s book Embracing the Exile: Healing Journeys of Gay Christians. He recounts the long and difficult struggle of growing up being both Catholic (sincerely devout) and gay. At one point he complains to God about his fellow believers saying “They call my light darkness! They call my love perverted! They call my gifts corruptions. What the hell are you asking me to do?” And then John Fortunato hears God’s voice, clear and unmistakable. “Love them anyway,” God said. “Love them anyway.”
I think of a trusted colleague in ministry, a gay man who reminds me that our calling is to assist all UCC churches to prosper—not just the Open and Affirming churches, not just the Progressive Churches—but all the churches in our conference.
I think of the young woman with a spikey hairdo in my church who wears a “Gay Christian” t-shirt and engages people in dialogue when they comment on that, taking on the role of an educator for the misinformed.
And if my gay companions can wear the label “Christian” despite the toxicity that’s been pinned onto that, then surely I can. Jesus is indeed fortunate to have such faithful followers—and I am blessed to be surrounded on earth by such witnesses.
Do you ever have those days when you ask yourself, “Why am I going to all this trouble?”
When I was in 8th grade (worst year of my life – true story!), my teacher Ann Andrews asked us to write five things about ourselves on an index card. My fifth thing was ‘I am an eternal optimist.’ It’s still true, but I do have those days when I wonder if I’m just talking to myself around here.
“Around here” is a church, a wonderful place filled with laughter and grace and people walking their talk. I do love this place. My lungs fill a little deeper when I pull into the parking lot.
But every year it gets a little harder. Every year attendance is down just a bit. Every year we have to struggle just a little more to make the budget. Every year I’m sweet-talking just a few more to get people to participate in spiritual formation (Sunday School, classes, and retreats and such).
At least that’s the way it seems some days. I assume that you have “some days” too. Maybe today is one of them. Just in case, I’m answering the question TODAY so I can remind myself when I need to hear this answer.
1. First, some non-reasons. These are completely irrelevant (to me).
Because I don’t want to burn in hell.
Because I want my kids to be “good”.
Because I don’t want my kid to have sex outside of marriage.
Because Christianity is the only answer to the meaning of life.
Because I’m afraid of / superior to other religions and cultures.
Because I fear.
hee hee…”baggage”
These might be legitimate reasons for some people, but they aren’t mine. I list them here just to deal with the baggage.
2. I stick around church because it grounds me.
Human beings are funny creatures. We are, in the words of the Psalms, “made just a little lower than the angels.” According to evolutionary thinkers, we are the universe becoming self-conscious for perhaps the first time. We are simultaneously selfish, greedy, obsessive, mean, short-term thinkers who can’t get our shit in squares to save our own sorry lives, much less the whole darn planet.
My faith does a great job of keeping me in this middle place: knowing and hoping for the best part of humanity and acknowledging that we are flawed and more than a little dangerous. Yeah, I could have faith without church, but that seems like a lonely answer.
3. I stick around church because it answers my questions and encourages me to ask better, deeper questions.
At its best, Christian faith helps me develop a healthy relationship with my experiences. With a rich history of contemplation and mysticism, Christianity gives me tools with which to grapple with the biggest questions life has to offer. These tools aren’t the only ones out there, but they’re mine: prayer, meditation, centering, lectio divina, acts of mercy and service, spiritual direction and companionship.
4. I stick around church because it makes me a better person.
There’s always a tug between being real and being kind. At least there is for me. Maybe some people are naturally kind, and good for them. Being part of my faith community gives me lots, LOTS of opportunities to practice kindness. I tell my kiddos all the time that the best thing someone can say about you is that you are kind… not smart or beautiful or accomplished or wealthy or popular or athletic. The more that I’m around these wacky church people (I’m talkin’ about you, Southwest Conference!), the more I feel the impulse to kindness. The more I practice kindness, the more I progress along the path to being an actual, real life kind person. Then kindness becomes part of the real me. It’s a slow process; just ask the people who know me!
Church folks are not the only people serving peace and justice in the world, but it’s a good bet that if you scratch the surface of a church, you’ll find people who care… and put their caring into action.
5. I stick around church because it is a human thing to do.
Darn us humans with our existential angst! We just can’t help it. We are always looking for meaning. Sometimes we have a hard time finding meaning and we just make some up. We’re meaning-making, meaning-sharing, narrative-telling critters. We’re hard-wired for connection and community. We long to belong and to become whatever it is we’re meant to be.
On the big scale, we’re still a species in our infancy. We’re still growing and evolving. Church is helping me do my part. It’s a lot of trouble, but I’m sticking around. I hope you are too.
Karen Richter is Director of Spiritual Formation at Shadow Rock UCC. She has worked previously in a variety of educational and nonprofit settings. Her interests include peaceful parenting, theology in pop culture, and adult/adolescent faith formation. She is also active in Shadow Rock’s sanctuary ministry and Whole Life Center. Karen lives in Anthem, Arizona with her husband, children, and tiny dog.
John 13:13-15 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
“You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.”
How May I Serve You?
On a recent Sunday evening at Rebel & Divine UCC, one of our homeless young adults took a shower and put on a new outfit he’d picked up at our clothing bank. I noticed him with dripping wet hair, standing somberly over a large dark trash bin. He was holding the outfit he’d been wearing continuously for the previous seven days. After standing there for a few minutes in deep thought, he opened his hands and released the clothing.
Moving closer I started a conversation with him. He shared that the t-shirt was his favorite article of clothing “ever.” It was well worn and frankly a tad ripe. He expressed frustration that he could only take with him what he was wearing. His backpack was so full of his essentials that its seams were starting to split. I respectfully asked if I could take the discarded clothes home and wash them for him. Looking at me in a peculiar manner, he walked off saying, “Whatever you want.”
I washed the clothes, with bleach, several times. I tumbled them dry with springtime fabric softener sheets. The clothes were bright and fresh when they were returned to him with little fanfare a few weeks later. An hour must have passed before he pulled me aside. With a bit of machismo, he said, “You didn’t have to fold my clothes.” and “Thank you — I can’t believe you folded my clothes!” I noticed the teary eyes accompanying his smile.
Jesus often spoke to his disciples about ministry. He didn’t charm their egos with visions of celebrity and certain wealth. He referred to the ministry as diakonos, which at its most basic level means to be a humble servant. It was defined by the powerless roles women and children were required to play in society at the time. Becoming one of his followers meant to set aside your own authority. In this way kings, religious leaders, and tax collectors were brought down while waitresses, pedicurists, and maids were lifted up.
That dapper young homeless man looked at me like I’d performed a miracle that night. Not because I had done anything out of the ordinary, but because I’d done something for him that no one else had ever done. In folding his newly laundered clothing, he began to feel worthy. That young man invites all of his friends to attend church with us, not because we told him too, but because he wants them to have that same experience. We continue to grow.
In other church circles these days I’m hearing a lot about fear. People want to know what that next “big” thing is they will have to do to survive. I wonder if church in this postmodern age is actually a return to the basics? Imagine a place where the least of these feel safe to be themselves. Imagine a place where the voiceless are asked to lead the discussion. Imagine a place where the hungry literally break bread and share the cup. Imagine a place where the naked are clothed and dirty leave clean. Imagine a place where the pastor’s sermon is witnessed, not just heard.
Imagine a place where lives are transformed.
Jesus loved people, very different from himself, into wholeness. Acting in his place in our world today, this new church 3.0 concept really isn’t something to fear. It doesn’t require concert stages, rock bands, and nightclub light displays in our sanctuaries. Maybe it’s actually church unplugged? Maybe it’s focusing less on Sunday morning’s show and prioritizing the building of relationships? Maybe it’s setting aside the first time visitor gifts and offering to wash, dry, and fold our guests’ clothing? It seems the only requirement to ministry today is that Christ be witnessed in each of us.
PRAYER
Holy One, we celebrate your unlimited and unconditional love. Yet we seem to have forgotten the role we play in keeping that love alive in our world today. Assist us in witnessing Christ’s everyday miracles through our humble service. Amen & let it be so!
Rev. Jeffrey Dirrim is a graduate of the Pacific School of Religion(Berkeley, CA) and is currently serving as the Founding Pastor and Executive Director of Rebel & Divine United Church of Christ in Phoenix, Arizona. It is an incredibly diverse missional faith community focused on the health and wholeness of at risk(especially LGBTQ) youth/young adults. Those he serves lovingly refer to him as their “Pomo-homo-genderqueer Pastor!” To learn more visit the church’s website.
The recent photo of two-year old Aylan Kurdi’s body washed up on the beach in Turkey shocked the world. Human beings with any sense of decency were cut to the heart at the loss of this little boy and the thousands of other children and adults he represents who ave been killed in recent Middle East conflict.
As European countries rightly welcome Muslim refugees from Syria, anti-Muslim and anti-immigrant fervor is rearing it’s ugly head once again. A nationalist party in Britain released a fear-mongering anti-Muslim/antiimmigration video featuring wild math about birthrates and a ludicrous doomsday ending. Closer to home, we are witnessing a level of both anti-immigrant and anti-Muslim nationalism in our current presidential campaign that has never been higher.
With irresponsible and even dangerous rhetoric increasing, we cannot afford to remain silent any longer. It is past time for all peace-loving Christians to stand up and speak out loudly in favor of empathy and hospitality toward the immigrant and the Muslim. This is not simply a “liberal” cause. The need for Christians to speak out is based on this undeniable fact– the most vitriolic and xenophobic language in America is not coming from Muslims; it is coming from far right wing nationalists who claim to be Christians. The Muslims I know speak out for peace regularly but find it hard to gain media coverage.
This past May, I scheduled a series of sermons at One Church entitled Religions of the World. During that series, I invited a rabbi and an imam to speak on Judaism and Islam respectively. They both represented their faiths very well.
Prior to the series, I had been looking forward to having lunch with a local imam named Khalil. He speaks regularly at interfaith gatherings and flatly condemns all violence in the name of Islam. He is one of the moderate Muslims who is accused by right wing persons of not speaking out enough against terrorism. Like many American Muslim leaders, however, he speaks out against violence continually. It’s just that he has trouble getting his message into the news media.
I suspect that the cable news channels that complain that Muslim leaders do not speak out rarely invite Muslim leaders on air to speak out. After all, if you invite Muslim leaders on air to condemn violence, you can’t induce fear and rage in your viewers by claiming that Muslim leaders won’t speak out. Fear and rage drive up ratings, but what kind of ratings do calm, reasonable Muslim voices get you? Depending on the news outlet, inviting them to speak might drive away viewers.
Khalil and I had a very pleasant, thoroughly enjoyable conversation over a twoand-a-half hour lunch. We shared stories of how we entered the ministry and what our respective religion means to us. To him, Islam means peace. He beautifully articulated how Islam provides a holistic way of life, and I was struck by how similar it sounded to a Christian’s explanation of why she or he wants to follow Jesus. We joked about the common experiences that clergypersons have, regardless of their religion. As our server kept pouring fresh cups of coffee, we discovered that we have a great deal in common. I now consider Khalil a friend.
After our lunch, I drove home and saw the headlines that ISIS had burned Jordanian pilot Moaz alKasasbeh alive. ISIS commits revolting, brutal murders on video in order to recruit more terrorists and provoke endless conflict with the West. As you know, a war with the West is part of their fundamentalist, apocalyptic fantasy.
Curious to see all opinions, I typed foxnews.com into my browser and read an article titled “ISIS Burns Jordanian Pilot: Mr. Obama, when will you get angry about radical Islam?” In two sentences, the author called for vengeance and dehumanized the enemy. “America wants to know, when is President Obama going to get angry? When is he going to slam his fist on the desk, demand vengeance, put aside his incessant campaigning and call out the Islamic radicals of ISIS as the animals they are?”
I support thoughtful U.S. intervention on behalf of innocent people, but on a news outlet known for catering to conservative Christians, what does angry, dehumanizing vengeance have to do with the teaching of Jesus?
In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said:
“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” (Matthew 5:43-45)
Just as famously, Paul (in Romans 12:19) referenced Deuteronomy 32:35: “Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord.” The King James translation is still the best remembered, saying, “’Vengeance is mine; I will repay,’ saith the Lord.”
I believe in protecting the innocent from terrorists like ISIS, but this opinion piece and much of the news coverage of Muslims is an example of violent, vengeful, dehumanizing war rhetoric that is diametrically opposed to the teaching of Jesus.
And do we even need to remind everyone of the recent dehumanizing statements toward Latino immigrants by a presidential candidate?
Progressive Christians speak out regularly in defense of peace-loving Muslims in our communities. Following the inflammatory anti-Muslim protest in Phoenix this past spring, we saw how beautiful solidarity can be between Christians and Muslims.
Progressive Christians also speak against xenophobia and urge immigration reform that welcomes immigrants into the United States as though we were welcoming Jesus, Himself (Matthew 25:35).
This, however, can no longer be only a progressive Christian cause. Now, I think it’s time to ask a different question:
When are moderate Christians going to stand up and condemn this kind of unChristian, vengeful rhetoric toward immigrants and Muslims?
Millions of Christians consume xenophobic and inflammatory “news” on a daily basis. When a prominent piece such as this one goes unchallenged by a large number of moderate Christians, I have to ask, where does their allegiance lie—with a cable news channel or with Jesus Christ?
The fact is, my lunch with an imam was far more peaceloving than the opinion piece I read afterward. Who has the inside track on making peace?
Ryan Gear is the founding pastor of One Church, a nondenominational progressive church in Chandler, Arizona. He is the founder of openmindedchurch.org, a growing national directory of churches willing to wrestle with questions and doubts. Ryan writes regularly for religion blogs such as OnFaith and Convergent Books and has been featured in Real Clear Religion. Ryan also serves as an initiator in Convergence U.S., a national movement bringing together forward-thinking Catholics, Evangelicals, and mainline Protestants, along with ethnic and peace churches and other willing colleagues.
