May 2019 Twin oars to propel us forward

    After years of contributing to The Morning Call’s “Faith and Values” column, I remain grateful for this forum to share thoughts on faith with a wider audience. That said, I am often challenged by the editor’s instruction “to avoid topics that are truly political and would more properly belong on the opinion pages.” Thankfully, only once have I received an email that gently, but clearly, instructed me to provide a new column by the end of the week.

In my life before seminary, I studied international politics, where we learned that politics is, as Wikipedia sums it up: “the capacity of an individual to influence the conduct or behavior of others.”

As a preacher, each week’s sermon has some measure of “God loves you and forgives you,” and “God loves those who are unlike you and who don’t like you, and God expects more of you.” Both are valid. I think the wise pastor will intersperse both of these themes within any one sermon and from week to week. But both of them are truly quite political. God intentionally seeks to influence our conduct and behavior, empowering and inviting us to live and act out of love rather than fear.

People of faith are invariably in the position of trying to influence the conduct or behavior of others. Some of us are trying to explain our faith tradition, so others will find us less mysterious, fearful or threatening. Others are exploring nuances in the understanding of God, to say there is more to this faith than you may think, and as we behave in a certain way, you should consider doing likewise.

To be sure, to name persons of power, particular stances they take, and specific issues of the day, are matters for the opinion page. Without care and boundaries, “Faith and Values” risks becoming as politicized as too many of our other establishments are today.

At the same time, however, “This is the word of the Lord,” often accompanies religious tenets that while “political” as seen through one lens, are part and parcel of what it means to be faithful when seen through another. People, including people of faith, can disagree on how to care for the poor and stranger, and, dare I say, even the immigrant. But adherents of Abrahamic religions and beyond have a clear, undiluted message: you shall care for such persons.

To those who say “you are getting political when you say such things,” I unapologetically agree. Because as I understand my Jewish roots and Christian faith, God is very political, trying to influence our conduct and behavior to love God and neighbor. And doing so with unlimited capacity. God will get God’s way, one way or another, however long it takes. As Martin Luther King Jr., wrote, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

If deeply held values are under debate, shouldn’t other deeply held values inform that debate? For the faithful, religion guiding politics means that our faith informs and energizes our capacity to influence the conduct or behavior of others. “I believe this, therefore…” From a faith-perspective, things go astray when politics, the capacity to influence, steers what we say we believe. “I want you to believe this, therefore…” Then winning means more than what is won.

Religion and politics. Two of the three big no-no’s for “polite conversation.” Yet we need courage and safe spaces for planting the seeds that may one day flower in thoughtful and compassionate conduct and behavior. If “a rising tide lifts all boats," then we need both oars, religion and politics, and we need them moving in tandem. That will allow us to have the healthiest of discourse, the kind that this country was founded on, and now so desperately needs.

April 2019 The Serenity Prayer in the Midst of Adversity

 

Among the many devastating events this year, the one that likely drew the most international attention did not result in any loss of life. That would be the sight of the Cathedral of Notre-Dame ablaze. Although so different in so many ways, from cause to casualties, it was difficult not to think back on the Twin Towers, each reaching to the sky, twisted by fire.

In the days following, popular sentiment was loud to rebuild Notre Dame exactly as it was, and those with ample means were praised for pledging up to a billion dollars in support. While the immediacy of crisis promotes snap judgments, the passage of time ought to give time for reflection. Alas, the French Senate voted for an exact restoration as late as last week. 

I certainly understand the impulse to rebuild such a beautiful place, a landmark felt to be holy by so many. In the wake of 9/11 that same impulse was certainly expressed. Time and reflection led to constructing a beautiful place. But a new place.

One wishes that Reinhold Niebuhr’s “Serenity Prayer” was among those prayers said in the wake of the fire: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…” There is no original Notre-Dame to restore, only the Notre-Dame known in our lifetime. It is a beloved place, but one that has been modified, renovated, and vandalized in its 850 years.

Moreover, the church as we have known it is changing. Once a cultural norm, church attendance is now the exception rather than the rule. Notre-Dame was built as a place for people to worship, but now it is now known largely as a tourist attraction; as one website reminds, “but it is also a church.” If its worship attendance is anything like much of the world’s, it is a fraction of what it once was. We cannot change that this Cathedral is no longer a centerpiece of religious life, and no longer home to so many worshippers.

“… the courage to change the things I can…” Jesus said almost nothing about building churches, but he had much to say about caring for others, especially the poor and needy. For the many around the world who contributed amounts small or large in the wake of the fire, how does that compare to their giving to that which Jesus did testify: sharing the Gospel, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, caring for the sick.

Some believers give 10% or more in support of such charitable efforts, some congregations pledge 50% of what they receive to the mission outside the church. Certainly those without religious affiliation can be just as generous. That is changing something that we can, as those dollars large and small can make a significant difference in someone’s life.

“…and the wisdom to know the difference” between giving a gift to rebuild a building and building the kingdom. No doubt there are mixed motives behind the pledges toward repairing Notre-Dame. Some are acting out of faith, a connection to their beliefs. Others may be doing so out of national pride or a love of beautiful architecture.

If rebuilding a landmark, that may be generous, but it is no more laudable than a team owner building a stadium. It is a choice. It is not simply a choice between repair or not repair. Ask for the wisdom to determine the difference between needed repair and exact restoration, the latter coming at an immense price.

If repair is a matter of faith, however. then ask for the wisdom to know this difference: when supporting God’s church, are we called to care for people or steeple?

 

We Wait with Hope, and with Work to Do

April 2019

We Wait with Hope, and with Work to Do

To have faith is to wait. For Christians, this is summed up in “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). But in many ways, twenty-first century humanity, with microwaves, instant messaging, and “watch-what-you-want-when-you-want” is less equipped than ever to wait. But we are in a confluence of moments that remind us of how waiting is central to whose we are and who we are, as people of faith and as people in the world.

Just over a week ago, Jews observed the end of the eight-day Passover holiday. It is a holy time at whose core is waiting. It takes us back to the Jewish peoples’ four hundred years of slavery in Egypt, waiting for freedom. This time also reminds us of the start of the forty years wandering in the desert, waiting to reach the Promised Land. I have attended many Seders, the ritual meal of Passover, and they are long and unhurried affairs, because while slaves rush from one thing to the next, free people do not.

Then, one week ago, Christians celebrated Easter, the resurrection of Jesus, whom we understand to be the Messiah. But the Christ was long in coming. An Advent (pre-Christmas) hymn, “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus,” reminds us that many generations waited for his birth. With our Trinitarian understanding of Three Persons in One, we commonly refer to “The God Who Is, Who Was, and Who Is to Come.” That last clause reminds us that we have been waiting a long time, over 2000 years, for the Second Coming. Yet at the same time, we wait with confidence, trusting that “now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation!”

Finally, in just a few days, Muslims will enter into the sacred month of Ramadan, a time of spiritual discipline expressed in additional prayer, increased generosity and charity, and added study. Most well-known, there is a waiting that is core to every living thing, waiting for nourishment. Fasting from dawn to sunset, watching for the moment when we need not hunger and thirst any more. Of the Eid al-Fitr celebrations I have been invited to, marking the end of Ramadan, after a month of fasting, the food and fellowship are abundant.

Waiting is a theme that runs throughout these religions which have common origins. But it ought not be a passive waiting, as if saying “someday, someday, someday” is enough. Because it is not. That kind of passivity, waiting without hope, can lead us to give up. It is to accept what is as if it is what will ever be, however deficient it is. This is the source of Martin Luther King Jr.’s observation that “Justice delayed is justice denied.”

Hopeful waiting, however, is what invites us, encourages us, energizes us to fight the good fight, to run the race that set before us with every intention of seeing it through to the end. This hope allows us to look at what was and what is, and to see how it pales against what can be. It calls us to participate in the Lord’s Prayer petition that “God’s kingdom come, God’s will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” It prompts us to ask hard but necessary questions.

If slaves rush but free people do not, are you slave or are you free? And is your life freeing those around you, or enslaving them?

If now is the “acceptable time,” are we now ready to hear the women, people of color, and those of diverse sexuality whose voices have too long gone unheard? If not, why not? If not now, when?

If a minority people in this country, often unfairly targeted, can offer generosity and hospitality, what is preventing the majority people from offering the same?

What are we waiting for?