Faith formation should be a conversation, not a lecture

Most of us wear several hats in our daily activities. We may be children and parents and spouses simultaneously. We’re coworkers, neighbors, friends, and citizens, exercising these diverse roles all in a single day. We’re believers with convictions but also can entertain openness to other points of view. Few of us are not just one thing at any time. We play more than one role that is important to us. We don’t drop out of this collection of identities when we actively engage in any one of the others.

Among the roles I play are counselor, administrator, writer, public speaker, worship leader, and teacher of the church. I do not cease to be any of these while performing as another. In fact, it is fundamentally as a pastor that I write and speak. Family and close friends roll their eyes should you ask if I ever stop being a pastor for five minutes. Long before I completed seminary and was ordained, I was in pursuit of any moment that I could express my deepest convictions about faith. It was almost inevitable that conversations would end up on some topic concerning the church. It’s a wonder, really, that I managed to have real friends growing up!

After a lifetime of fascination with mystical realities and attempts to express them, I find myself asking another question that has often eluded me: What is the church really for? Surely this inquiry should have more deeply engaged me earlier. I must admit that not asking this question sooner in life has had unavoidable consequences. Not only did I subject my unwitting companions to lessons and rituals they may not have wanted, but also, in religious settings where I was fulfilling a duty to present the faith, I doubtlessly taught what I myself had absorbed: that life in the church is like spinach—necessary, nourishing, and not to be scraped off the plate just because you may not care for it.

Church can be presented in many ways, not all constructive or useful. Its teachings and rituals can be a bludgeon to get those who misbehave in line. It can be wielded as a form of control, inciting fear, guilt, or dread. Think of the “Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz,” when a voice that deep, threatening, and mysterious bellows from behind the curtain, spouting smoke and fire. It can be hard to do anything but kowtow. Many sit in pews or in classrooms hearing church leaders proclaim what’s what in just such a voice. Some of us buckle and obey. Others run for the exits.

Some time ago, I realized that carrots work better than sticks. I tried to entertain softer and more appealing methods of instruction. Wise mentors convinced me that humor is acceptable, and storytelling is a must. A teaching or admonition might better be offered as an invitation, not a dictate. A pastor might better shine a helpful lantern on the road ahead rather than march the community forward at the point of a gun. As odd as it may sound, faithful teaching might better be viewed as kindly guidance on the journey, not a litany of rules laid down to stumble and ensnare.

I hope you’ve had pastors who used teaching in this gentler way. I hope preachers you have heard have beckoned more than barked. I hope your relationship to God and church has been shaped and sweetened by wisdom, discernment, and invitation. I really do hope your life in the church hasn’t been a long, abusive slog through commandments and pronouncements that seemed to gag you and take away your freedom. If you’ve suffered at the hands of your pastors or teachers and have not been aided in your quest for God and guidance, please let me apologize on behalf of the church.

Some of us may find this kind of open-endedness uncomfortable. Dominating religious space with the dictates of doctrine and “eternal truth” is much easier! But this way of leading and learning is a way to make our relationships and roles as parents or pastoral people and more real and honest. Choosing persuasion over dominance does not diminish the truth. In fact, it makes it more plain and fuller of possibility than either party might have suspected at the start.

Because, after all, what is the church for? Not to preserve some holy deposit of faith in a sacred vault, untarnished by the ages. Teaching the faith is meant to lead us into the persuasive and compellingly attractive presence of a God who is the fullness of love and compassion. Dominating spaces doesn’t make the case for such a God. Inviting people to walk with us, however, just might.

I invite you to take up the task of continuing your Christian formation. Get inquisitive about your faith and your relationship to God. Try our online bible study. Look over the reading list of suggested titles on our website. Join a reading group. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. Listen to recordings of the homilies preached in our church or others on line. You just might hear a word that brings you closer to The Word - Jesus. Christian formation is a life-long endeavor, and we are here to help you find The Way.

It is not an option

An interviewer once asked Dr. Billy Graham, “If you could eradicate any problem in America, what would it be?” Dr. Graham answered very quickly and very directly as he replied, “The racial division and strife in our nation.” Why would this issue stand so central for one of the most prominent Christian voices in our society? I would like to suggest several reasons why racial reconciliation must be at the front of our agenda as a faith community.

In Mark’s gospel, Jesus makes clear, “If a house is divided against itself, that house cannot stand” (Mark 3:25). By its nature, racism divides. It does not exist merely because of social differences. Racism is not a social issue or a cause. Because it is rooted in the human heart and has an impact on all human relationships, it is a theological and spiritual issue. Therefore, the Church must lead the way in every reconciliation effort and set the standard for spiritual and social healing in our communities and in our nation. Moreover, because it effects human relationships, failure to confront it infects us with its evil impact, no matter how great or small.

Racism, simply put, is hatred toward someone whom God created – there is no other way of looking at it: it is the belief that someone is innately superior to another individual whom God created simply by existing. Such prejudice toward someone whom God created is a blatant offense against God in whose image every human being is made. It is a sin.

Holy Scripture instructs us why we must all be involved in this work of racial reconciliation:

• Racial Reconciliation confronts and defeats hypocrisy. Romans 12:9 says, “Love must be without hypocrisy. Detest evil; cling to what is good.” God loves all whom He has created, and He encourages us to do the same. Reconciliation confronts and defeats divisions among people based on the differences in color or culture.
• Racial Reconciliation confronts and defeats self-righteousness. Romans 2:11 says, “There is no favoritism with God.” Believing that one race or ethnic group is better than another is a form of self-righteousness.
• Racial Reconciliation encourages the body of Christ to freely obey the Great Commission. Mathew 28:19-20 says, “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe everything I have commanded you.” The word “nations” always used in Scripture to indicate ethnicity.
• Racial Reconciliation encourages the body of Christ to obey the Great Commandment. John 13:34-35 says, “I give you a new command: love one another. Just as I have loved you, you must love one another. By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” Hate for another or prejudice against another has no place in the life of a disciple of Jesus.
• Racial Reconciliation honors God’s design. Acts 17:26 says, “From one man He has made every nationality to live over the whole earth and has determined their appointed times and the boundaries of where they live.” By His own design, God created all of humanity to stem from one man’s blood.
• Racial Reconciliation honors God’s redemptive plan. Revelation 5:9 says, “And they sang a new song: ‘You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals, because You were slaughtered, and You redeemed people for God by Your blood from every tribe and language and people and nation.’” God’s redemptive plan includes people from every ethnic group.
• Racial Reconciliation honors God Himself. John 3:16 says, “For God loved the world in this way: He gave His One and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life.” God’s act of love was for the world, not for one race.

As the bearers of Christ’s image on earth, reconciliation is not merely an effort to be made – it is a high calling that we must live. The apostle Paul declares, “Everything is from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation. That is, in Christ, God was reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and He has committed the message of reconciliation to us.” On this one of the collects used in the Church’s Daily Office is instructive:

O God, you have made of one blood all the peoples of the earth, and sent your blessed Son to preach peace to those who are far off and to those who are near: Grant that people everywhere may seek after you and find you; bring the nations into your fold; pour out your Spirit upon all flesh; and hasten the coming of your kingdom; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
(“Morning Prayer,” BCP, p. 100)

When we pray, “Thy kingdom come,” we realize that working for racial reconciliation is not an option. Full stop.

"I am not a racist . . ."

“I am not a racist.”

I cannot count how many times that statement was part of a conversation about this difficult topic.

Racism occurs because a person ignores the fundamental truth that, because all humans share a common origin, they are all brothers and sisters, all equally made in the image of God. When this truth is ignored, the consequence is prejudice and fear of the other, and—all too often—hatred. Where there is fear, racism is possible. Where there is ignorance, racism is possible. Where there is misunderstanding, racism is possible. Where there is in equality, racism is possible. The list can go on.

Racism comes in many forms. It can be seen in deliberate, sinful acts. In  recent times, we have seen bold expressions of racism by groups as well as individuals. The re-appearance of symbols of hatred, such as nooses and swastikas in public spaces, is a tragic indicator of rising racial and ethnic animosity.

Extreme nationalist ideologies insinuate themselves in American public conversation by xenophobic rhetoric that instigates fear against foreigners, immigrants, and refugees. Too often racism comes in the form of the sin of omission (“what “we have left undone,” BCP, 360), when individuals, communities, and even churches remain silent and fail to act against racial injustice when it is encountered.

Racism can often be found in our hearts—in many cases placed there unwillingly or unknowingly by our upbringing and culture. As such, it can lead to thoughts and actions that we do not even see as racist, but nonetheless flow from the same prejudicial root. Consciously or subconsciously, an attitude of superiority can be seen in how certain groups of people are vilified, called criminals, or are perceived as being unable to contribute to society, even unworthy of its benefits. Racism can also be institutional, when practices or traditions are upheld that treat certain groups of people unjustly. The cumulative effects of personal sins of racism have led to social structures of injustice and violence that makes us all accomplices in racism.

We continue to read headlines that report the killing of unarmed African Americans by law enforcement officials. In our prisons, the number of inmates of color, notably those who are brown and black, is grossly disproportionate. Despite the great blessings of liberty that this country offers, we must admit the plain truth that for many of our fellow citizens, who have done nothing wrong, interactions with the police are often fraught with fear and even danger. At the same time, we must reject harsh rhetoric that belittles and dehumanizes law enforcement personnel who labor to keep our communities safe. We must also condemn violent attacks against police.

With the positive changes that arose from the civil rights movement and related civil rights legislation, some may believe that racism is no longer a major affliction of our society— that it is only found in the hearts of individuals who can be dismissed as ignorant or unenlightened. But racism still profoundly affects our culture. In short, it, in any form, has no place in the Christian heart. What can we do now and in the future, to rid the beloved community of God of this sin?

The Divine Consigliere

 

I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate,

to be with you forever.

(John 14:16 - The Gospel Lesson for Pentecost)

In our culture, we call upon advocates to offer support to those who feel they are not being heard, to ensure they are taken seriously, and to assure that their rights are respected. We also understand that an advocate should help people to access and understand information and services available to them. I am afraid that this understanding is a bit too narrow to understand fully the role of “The Advocate” the Jesus promises us in the Father’s name.

Now, I hope that no one takes offense at what I am about to say, but a slightly different term may give us a more fulsome understanding of what was meant by the term advocate in Jesus’ day – and just what Jesus promises to his disciples then – and now.

I am a big fan of “The Godfather” films (I, II, and III!). Maybe because when I was growing up, we heard a lot about the “Gambino’s,” who had an active branch of their extended crime family in Western New York. Who knows?

Anyway, in the organization of these “families,” a pivotal figure is the consigliere (counselor). A consigliere is an advisor to the boss (usually an attorney), with the added responsibility of standing for the family’s interests in important meetings both within family and with others. The consigliere is a close, trusted friend and confidant, a sort of elder statesman, one of the few in “the family” who can argue with the boss. Consequently, this figure is often tasked with challenging the boss when needed, to ensure that proposed plans are foolproof. In most depictions, the consigliere is dispassionate and devoid of ambition as he dispenses advice.

The important part here is the responsibility the consigliere bears for the interests and internal integrity of “the family.” In this sense, Jesus might, in today’s culture, refer to the promised gift of the Spirit as a sort of consigliere. Think about it: “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Consigliere, to be with you forever.” What better promise? Someone to watch over the family of the Church, whose only concern is its benefit, its well-being, its continuing existence. Someone who can “argue with the boss” and makes sure that plans are carried out well. Thus, the Spirit’s role is not merely to advise but to act decisively whenever the well-being of the Church and its members are at stake. The boss’s consigliere wields tremendous power and holds everyone trust. Isn’t that what the Holy Spirit does?

Maybe, I am stretching the metaphor too far, but I think there is merit here.

In Western Christianity, we often “over-emphasize” the role of Jesus in our faith life. There is no surprise there. Christmas and Easter are our favorite holydays. The beginning and the end of the mortal presence of Jesus among us. They are easy to understand and to imagine – something we can lay our hands on. But the Spirit – that’s another thing all together.

By contrast, Eastern Christians (e.g., the Orthodox Churches) focus on that more elusive divine person. Their chants and icons personify the mysterious quality of the Spirit that can be as elusive as the odor of the copious amounts of incense used in worship. In John’s gospel, Jesus says, “The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” It is that ethereal nature that makes us uncomfortable. We want to pin God down, control when and where we meet God. But this is not possible once we realize that God’s presence is everywhere and that we “cannot tell where it comes from” or even where it will lead us.

What is comforting is that this ghostly reality has the power of a consigliere – that what surrounds us are not mere wisps of smoke but an energy with the power to enliven, to protect, to transform with a divine mandate to do all that is necessary to reconcile a broken world to its Creator – a task entrusted to us by Jesus. For this purpose, that Spirit showers us with gifts, each given for the sake of the larger work.

As we emerge from the pandemic, it is more important than ever that we exercise these gifts to support one another as the Spirit leads us to new endeavors. How can you employ your gifts to help us Begin Again! in the days ahead? As activities increase, St. Luke’s remain in need of many hands to make its work light: Altar Guild, acolytes, choir members, ushers, ministers of hospitality, outreach workers, Christian formation helpers, nursery attendants, only to name of the few that can help us recover the momentum we had before the pandemic struck.

Vestry is even now considering new ways that St. Luke’s can meet the challenges out new context presents. Stay tuned for more ways in which we will see our gifts manifest themselves in our community.

Mind the Gap

At the end of the First World War, we are told, Helen Turrell traveled to northern France to put flowers on the grave of her illegitimate son, Michael, one of the fallen. To those travelling with her, she described Michael as her “nephew.”

This is the touching background for a short story by Rudyard Kipling. The story ends:

“A man knelt behind a line of headstones — evidently a gardener, for he was firming a young plant in the soft earth. She went towards him, her paper in her hand.

He rose at her approach and without prelude or salutation asked: ‘Who are you looking for?’ ‘Lieutenant Michael Turrell — my nephew,’ said Helen slowly and word for word, as she had many thousands of times in her life. The man lifted his eyes and looked at her with infinite compassion before he turned from the fresh sown grass toward the naked black crosses.

‘Come with me,’ he said, ‘and I will show you where your son lies.’ When Helen left the Cemetery she turned for a last look. In the distance she saw the man bending over his young plants; and she went away, supposing him to be the gardener.

Subtly, Kipling intimates that Helen made the same mistake as Mary Magdalene as she went to visit the tomb of Jesus on that first Easter morning. “Jesus said to her, ‘Woman why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?’ Supposing him to be the gardener, Mary said to him, ‘Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.’” (John 20.15). As Kipling’s story ends, Helen’s “mistake” goes uncorrected. But in John’s Gospel, “the gardener” goes on to reveal his identity. Mary rushes back to the other disciples with that most extraordinary news: “I have seen the Lord” (John 20.18).

The evangelist Luke, we heard on Easter morning, tells us that her words “seemed to an idle tale, and they [the men] did not believe them” (Luke 24.11). How could she say such a foolish thing? Had she completely gone off? This was not what was supposed to happen. Storylines are meant to proceed according to a set order and structure. Plotlines should represent habits of thought, and for writers especially, they should follow traditional, time-honored conventions. Mary’s tale was not the established plotline.

What I love most about parish ministry is that it seldom follows such pre-established plotlines.

In a senior philosophy seminar, I was introduced to the thought of Thomas Kuhn. In his The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, he argues that science does not proceed or progress in an orderly, plotted fashion. Kuhn maintains that the assumptions of science are continually open to question and are periodically demolished as accepted theories are overturned. What results is what Kuhn calls a “paradigm shift.” Old models no longer work; new models emerge that make more sense of the world. Kuhn argues that it is our mistakes, our ignorance, which send us in a new direction seeking truth.

When Mary Magdalene realizes that she is standing in the presence of the risen Lord, all her assumptions about what the world was supposed to be like crumble. The story of Mary’s encounter with Jesus offers us is a perfect example of how to lose the plot, how to be blessedly mistaken, and how we can break through the old, hard-won habits of knowing, to confront our need for a new way of thinking, a new way of being.

We share so much with Mary these days. The pandemic has made distance, separation, and loss common and deep stresses on how we experience the world. We still yearn for connection. But what we realize is that it must not be superficial but real connection. Such connection seems all but impossible when we must keep our distance as the pandemic compelled us to do. According to the ancient philosopher Aristotle, we can lose our sense of sight, or hearing, smell, or taste, and still go on living. But if we can’t touch or be touched, he contends, we are less alive. During our long COVID winter, we developed ingenious ways to cope and even deny the negative power of this separation. Tele-communications, social media, ZOOM, and Facetime sought to bridge that separation. Instead, they only showed us how enforced social distance can be an obstacle to a fuller life.

And yet, another philosopher, Simone Weil, offers a parable that may teach us how we can transform how we perceive the world – how to undertake a paradigm shift: There are two prisoners whose cells adjoin. They communicate with each other by knocking on the wall. The wall is the thing that separates them but becomes their means of communication.

It is the same with us and God. Every separation we experience can become a link if we view it in a different way. What divides us, the gap between us, can become how we connect to one another … and to God. We think of gaps as dreadful things: gender pay gaps, funding gaps, gaps in knowledge – shortfalls and failings. But a life without gaps wouldn’t be a human life any more than a comb without gaps would be useful to a hairdresser. In fact, as Kuhn understood it, growth in knowledge depends on such gaps. Gaps thereby become life-giving, like our lungs, organs that provide necessary gaps in the middle of ourselves where life breathes in and out. If our lungs did not contain gaps, we could not breath.

So, as we continue to emerge from our COVID inspired separations, I hope that we have learned a new way to look at those gaps. Rather than bemoan how things are not “going according to plan,” I hope that we can see that such disruptions present real opportunities – opportunities to grow, to change, to transform. As Mary learned to see Jesus in a new way, so may we begin to see things anew and remain open to what yet lies ahead.

New Life – A New Generation

I recently completed a six-week intensive online seminar from the Barna Group, a think tank that has done a great deal of research on a topic of great interest to me: the religious inclinations and spiritual yearnings of what sociologists call Generation Z, young people born between 1996 and 2008. Many, we were told, in this age group did not receive a religious grounding from their family. Still, they express a curiosity about the sacred, a yearning for community, and a willingness to learn about religious traditions.

Generally, Gen Z young adults say they do not find what they are looking for in traditional places of worship. They feel passionately about many social issues such as race and gender equality, LGBTQ and immigration rights, gun reform, and reproductive rights. Yet some of these issues put them at odds with traditional religious teaching or at least with those who inhabit traditional religious spaces. Consequently, many Gen Zs say they lack a sense of belonging- the very element that is at the heart of religious community.

Research shows that it is not that these young adults are stepping away as much as it is not being raised in religious institutions in the first place, unlike Millennials or Generation X-ers. The question comes up from so many leaders: How can we get them back? The data reminds us that they have not been there in the first place.

Over 70% of young people researchers that they are religious. About the same number say they feel they are spiritual. There is a lot of overlap in those categories. One can be both things, or just one of the two. Young people continually move back and forth between these categories depending on their experiences. Many times, they are interested in rituals that connect them back across millennia and to communities of faith that they respect and find resonant today. Most importantly, they are not interested in accepting a whole faith system simply to access one or two important rituals.

Young people’s spiritualities tend to seek religious traditions that say less and do more. Young adults increasingly appear very skeptical of people who talk all the time. I think they might tell us that from their perspective, a lot of faith proclamations have not held up well, especially when it comes to issues that they really care about concerning justice, racial equity, and gender equity. They look ways of believing that encompass those elements. So, engaging with nature, being more contemplative, and enhancing meditation become practices that provide space for these values and concerns.

All this research shows that this generation is intensely values driven. Rather than prizing status, conformity, or achievement, Gen Z allow their values to drive their decisions. Those values deal principally with issues around justice and equity. Rightly or wrongly, they perceive that religious communities just don’t care about those issues at the same level they do, and that is where the disconnect develops.

In so many ways, this generation is the most diverse in terms of gender, race, and ethnicity that our society has known for quite some time. It is certainly the most diverse in terms of public policy. When organizations and religious institutions don’t engage in discussion about those matters, or even understand that they should be a part of the discussion, what young people hear is that these organizations do not care about them. For example, when we see interest in Black Lives Matter and racial justice, as well as in other issues mentioned, what we see is that diversity matters in ways it has not mattered to prior generations. For Gen Z, it matters because diversity is a fundamental part of what Gen Z is: it plays a critical part of their identity formation, religious exploration, and the process of defining their sense of self. In other words, diversity and inclusion are at the core who they are.

All this only skims the deep insights these studies present – and the profound challenges that face those who earnestly want to hand on what they received in faith. Over the months to follow, we will continue to explore this crucial element of our future. I hope to share these insights with Vestry as we explore the way forward with our vision for the future. Stay tuned!

Love so amazing, so divine

 

When I survey the wondrous cross

On which the Prince of Glory died,

My richest gain I count but loss

And pour contempt on all my pride.

These words from a familiar hymn are a reminder of the reason for the season of Lent: over a period of 40 days, we undertake a spiritual journey deep into ourselves with our eyes focused on the Cross, and hopefully rediscover – or discover for the first time – the glory and the victory which are ours because of what Jesus did for us. It is a time of renewal when we can commit to the work of laying our whole lives down for Christ. Hopefully, that is what Lent, 2022, will be for all of us.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,

Save in the death of Christ my God!

All the vain things that charm me most,

I sacrifice them to His blood.

Lent is the span of time in the church calendar that starts with Ash Wednesday on March 2nd and ends with the celebrations of The Great Vigil of Easter. Lent provides us a time to reflect, repent, and pray as a way of preparing our hearts to receive the gift of life, which is the promise of Easter. As Episcopalians, we observe Lent, though not every Christian denomination does, as an opportunity for us to focus our thoughts on Jesus Christ and our call to discipline ship in the power of the Spirit.

Some of us will begin Lent by marking our foreheads with ash as a symbol of sorrow and mourning over our sin. The first few verses of Job 42 show us an example of ashes used as a symbol of repentance. Some of us will choose to give up a habit or behavior during Lent as an exercise in prayerful self-denial (see the article later in this newsletter) involving something as simple as not drinking our favorite beverage during Lent to an all-out program of fasting.

We can also commit to a special devotional activity – daily Scripture reading, regular prayer for a specific person or topic throughout Lent, or volunteer work in their community. A full range of opportunities is available on our Christian Formation website at https://www.journeyinfaith-stlukeslebanon.org/lent-2022-walk-with-purpose.html.

The choice to observe Lent is a personal one—the whole point is to focus your heart and mind on Jesus during the journey to Easter. There’s no requirement to observe it, but it is always spiritually rewarding. Anglicans and other Christians around the globe observe Lent each year; if you’ve never done so, I’d invite you to try it in 2022. Whether you observe Lent in a small or major way, you’ll be amazed at what happens when you devote a part of each day to reflecting on Jesus Christ and God’s Word.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were a present far too small;

Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all.

I pray that our Lenten season of 2022 will be one of wonder, meditation, and communal support as we remember and worship our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.