My Savior's Love: A Poem

In the virgin light of morning
In the fields with flowers adorning
In the vibrant sun that’s setting
In the mercy of forgetting
I see my Savior’s love.

In the widow’s lonely cry
In the untimely good-bye
In regret for misspent past
In fear of death at last
I see my Savior’s love.

When my joy is made complete
When I’m bowed down in defeat
When good fortune’s sent my way
When the bill demands its pay
I see my Savior’s love.

In all things, good and bad
When we’re joyous, content, or sad,
In every time and place
We see him face to face.
Our Savior brings his love.

Gollum's Idolatry: Paradigm of the Human Condition

Idolatry.  Martin Luther understood it to mean anything in which we put our trust and faith other than God.  (Large Catechism)  Idolatry is the reason why God instituted the first commandment in the Decalogue: I am the Lord your God; you shall have no other gods.  All other gods are idols.

The bible is full of examples of idolatry, the most famous perhaps being Aaron’s golden calf.  After the split of the kingdom of Israel into the northern kingdom of Ephraim and the southern kingdom of Judah, the leader of Ephraim molded two golden calves (idols) for the people to worship.  (1 Kings 12:26-29)  Jesus alluded to the Pharisees’ rigid devotion to their religious traditions as idolatrous.  (Matthew 15:3-9; 23:29-33; Luke 11:42-44; 20:17-19)  In the epistles, idolatry is frequently listed among the sins that followers of Christ should avoid.  (Romans 1:23-31; 1 Corinthians 6:9-10; Galatians 5:19-21)

In western theology idolatry is often equated with people’s focus on possessions, wealth, success, or their own power and autonomy.  It’s a concept with which we’re familiar and which many of us, to a certain extent, can recognize in our own lives.  Yet at the same time it’s easy for idolatry to remain merely a concept, disembodied and disengaged from the practice of daily life.  It’s easy to ignore the implications of idolatry, and to avoid recognizing what kind of damage can come from engaging in it.  It’s so embedded in our American culture, so saturating our common experiences that we’re blinded to its effects.

Literature provides us with characters who embody aspects of our lives that help us see with clarity, because of the natural distance between reader and story.  The harmful effects of idolatry can more easily be recognized in a character who takes the concept of idolatry to extremes.  One such fascinating character is Gollum.

Gollum, a.k.a. Smeágol, comes from the imagination of J.R.R. Tolkien, and resides in the pages and on the screen in the epic Lord of the Rings trilogy and The Hobbit.  Commonly mistaken as either an irredeemably evil creature or an innocent victim of malevolent forces beyond his control, Gollum/Smeágol is the most recognizably human of all Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings characters.  Through this character we can see the somewhat extreme yet undeniably familiar consequences of idolatry, which in turn allows us a glimpse of our own experiences and the consequences that may result from the choices we make.  Continue reading

Why We Need Advent

There are a lot of people right now who are just not feeling that elusive "Christmas Spirit."  You know the one: that idea that everyone has to be happy and joyful for the entire month of December (or longer, if you take your cues from the retail industry).  Christmas is supposed to be a time of generosity and love, a time to enjoy friends and family, buy presents that will make the people you care about happy, and a time to eat lots of cookies but somehow not gain any weight.

But 20 young children died last week.  People are losing their jobs, and families are losing their homes.  A lot of people have strained relationships with their families or have recently lost loved ones, and Christmas Day brings out all the dysfunction you've been trying so hard to ignore.

For a lot of people it's not a very happy time, this Christmas season.

Fortunately, it's not really Christmas.

It's Advent.

You might remember Advent from Sunday School or CCD.  If you're a church-goer, you might recognize Advent as the excuse your pastor gives for not singing all the Christmas carols you love at church, at least not until the radio stations have stopped playing them.

But just as so many fervent Christians shout out that "Jesus is the Reason for the Season," there is a reason for the season of Advent as well.  And the reason is that a celebration of the Savior's birth makes no sense in a world that doesn't recognize its need for salvation.

Isaiah writes in chapter 9:

^{2 *}The people who walked in darkness
   have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—
   on them light has shined.
³ You have multiplied the nation,
   you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
   as with joy at the harvest,
   as people exult when dividing plunder.
⁴ For the yoke of their burden,
   and the bar across their shoulders,
   the rod of their oppressor,
   you have broken as on the day of Midian.
⁵ For all the boots of the tramping warriors
   and all the garments rolled in blood
   shall be burned as fuel for the fire.
⁶ For a child has been born for us,
   a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
   and he is named
Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God,
   Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
⁷ His authority shall grow continually,
   and there shall be endless peace
for the throne of David and his kingdom.
   He will establish and uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
   from this time onwards and for evermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.  (NRSV)

The light is so important because the people have been living in darkness.  They were burdened with yokes across their shoulders, weighing them down.  They were under the rod of their oppressors.  They lived a reality of tramping warriors and bloody battles bringing terror into their lives.  There was pain, and suffering, and misery.

The Christian story does not deny the harsh realities of life.  The Christian story is so powerful because Christ comes to us in the midst of those harsh realities.

Advent is not merely a preparation for Christmas; it is the active expectation of redemption and liberation.  And in a world where children are murdered, people are homeless and hungry, and families are fractured, we need to know that we are redeemed and liberated.  Advent is a time when we look forward in hope and anticipation for better days, even as we acknowledge that although we currently sit in darkness, we have seen a great light.

Don't worry if you're not feeling the Christmas Spirit this year.  Advent will meet you exactly where you are, wherever you are.

Todd Akin and His Mission from God

By now we're all aware of Missouri Congressional Representative and Senate hopeful Todd Akin's inflammatory comment about women rarely becoming pregnant as a result of a 'legitimate' rape.  Several others have already posted (ranted) about the insensitivity, ignorance, and sheer idiocy of that statement, and, since I have nothing new to add to that particular discussion, I'm content to let their words stand in regards to how I feel about the whole thing.

One detail caught my eye, however, that has received much less attention, and I think it needs to be highlighted.  The New York Times ran an article two days ago entitled, "A Politician Whose Faith is Central to His Persistence."  It describes Mr. Akin's Evangelical Christianity, as well as his desire to return America to its "Judeo-Christian roots."

Putting aside for the moment the fact that America has never been a theocracy, nor should it ever be, I personally get interested whenever a politician tries to legislate according to his or her "Christian" values.  What are the Judeo-Christian values that Mr. Akin embraces and believes we should all pattern our lives around?

The best way I could think to answer this question was to look at his voting record.*  I'll confess that I stopped after reviewing the last two years because frankly, the House votes on a lot of bills, and I don't have days to spend on this.  I think his record over the last two years should be sufficient to extrapolate Mr. Akin's values from his votes.

We all know how Mr. Akin feels about abortion, so I'm sure it comes as no surprise that he consistently voted against everything that included any provision for abortion or any support for any entity that might somehow be related to an abortion provider (i.e. if it had Planned Parenthood anywhere in the text of the bill, Mr. Akin voted against it, even if it was for something like breast cancer screening.)  The overreaching aside, I'm willing to consider the rights of the not-yet-born to be a legitimate Christian concern.  Whether those rights are absolute and always override the rights of the mother is still a matter of debate, and something I have absolutely no intention of tackling in this post or on this blog.  But trying to protect those who are unable to defend or even speak for themselves, yeah, I'll agree that that's a value I recognize as Christian.

Except Mr. Akin's concern for the not-yet-born seems to disappear once the mother makes the decision not to abort.  He voted against HR 3470, Infant Mortality Pilot Programs.  What this bill did was identify areas within the United States that had unusually high infant mortality rates, and provide funding for those communities to better support pregnant women and new mothers, to improve the health of mother and child alike, as well as reduce the odds of preventable miscarriage.  Keep in mind that this bill was in no way connected to Obamacare.  Yet Mr. Akin's Christian values didn't inspire him to support these efforts.

He also consistently voted against everything to do with Obamacare, because he doesn't believe the government should be involved with health care at all.  Caring for the sick is not a priority, according to his Christian values.

Mr. Akin voted against H Amdt 1127, which would have repealed indefinite military detention provisions.  People suspected of terrorism can sit in military prisons--without charge and without trial--forever, as far as he's concerned.

Fiscal responsibility is a big concern of Mr. Akin's.  It's also a big concern of mine.  I believe the government is going to have to realize that it can't have everything it wants, and is going to have to make some hard decisions about what it can and can't afford.  So does Mr. Akin.  Let's look at what choices he made, based on his strong faith and desire to legislatively recognize the Creator God.

Despite the deficit, small businesses should be entitled to hefty tax breaks.  Individuals, however, should suck it up and lose the payroll tax holiday, pay more income tax on their social security benefits, have unemployment benefits reduced, and lose all federal assistance to stay in their homes.

The Department of Homeland Security and the Department of Defense should get every penny they asked for, but funding should be reduced for the United Institute of Peace, and food assistance to low-income families and children should be reduced or eliminated.

And federal funding should be prohibited for the financing of presidential elections and National Public Radio, but allowed for NASCAR sponsorship.  (Seriously, H Amdt 92.  I wouldn't dare make something like this up!)

When I think about what a Christian is called to do, I think about Matthew 25:31-40:

31 ‘When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. ³²All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, ³³and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. ³⁴Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; ³⁵for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, ³⁶I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” ³⁷Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? ³⁸And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? ³⁹And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” ⁴⁰And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” (NRSV)

To me, that is what a Christian looks like.  Someone who gives food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, and clothes to the naked (social programs to help people make ends meet).  Someone who welcomes the stranger (sane immigration policies).  Someone who takes care of the sick (health care).  Someone who visits those in prison (recognition that even those who wish to do us harm are human beings, and deserving of the respect and courtesy they would never dream of giving us).  Jesus never made a distinction between the 'deserving' poor and the 'undeserving' poor.  Jesus certainly never identified the mark of the righteous as those with the strongest military, but rather emphasized the role of peace in God's kingdom.

I don't have a problem with Todd Akin voting according to his interpretation of Christian values; I have a problem with Todd Akin and others like him defining for the world what Christian values are, and using his warped voting record to do so.

It seems to me that there are two types of Christians in America today: the care-for-the-poor-and-needy-because-that's-what-Jesus-taught-and-did type of Christian, and the you'd-better-live-according-to-a-strict-moral-code-that-I'll-define-for-you-or-else-you're-going-to-burn-in-hell type of Christian.  I'm in the first category, and I'm happy to report that I'm not alone here.  But Todd Akin is in the second category, and he has a lot of company there, too.  Unfortunately, they get all the media attention.  Their voices are louder than ours, so they're defining for everyone who isn't in either category what Christians believe and value.  That is unacceptable.

I'm not suggesting a screaming match, because a) I don't think that would do any good, and b) that kind of infighting would seriously damage the proclamation of the good news of Jesus Christ.  But I am asking that some of you other social-justice-oriented Christians make yourself known, and let it be known that the Todd Akins of the world don't speak for all Christians.  There are other voices out there; let yours be heard.

*I used VoteSmart.org to see Mr. Akin's voting history.

The Biblical Definition of Marriage, Part 3: Adam and Eve (Genesis 2)

In Genesis 2 we see God creating the man from the dust of the ground before the garden of Eden is planted.  After God plants the garden and puts Adam there, God decides that "It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner."  (2:18, NRSV)  God then proceeds to form every animal of the field and every bird of the air out of the ground, just as he'd* formed Adam, but none of them are found to be a suitable "helper as his partner."  So God puts Adam to sleep, takes one of his ribs, and fashions the woman out of it.  When Adam sees this new creation he says, "This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; this one shall be called Woman, for out of Man this one was taken."  (2:23b, NRSV)  The next verses read, "Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and clings to his wife, and they become one flesh.  And the man and his wife were both naked, and were not ashamed."  (2:24-25, NRSV)


Now we might be getting somewhere.  Eve (who won't be named until the end of chapter 3) was created as a 'helper and partner' for Adam, and is referred to as his wife.  It's hard to argue against the claim that this is indeed the first marriage, created by God.


But is this 'definition' of marriage the only legitimate definition of marriage for all time and in all places?  Does God soundly reject marriage in any other form?

If we say yes, then we have to accept that everything else about this 'definition' ('example' might be a better word to use here) must hold true today.  That includes the bit about both of them being naked and not being ashamed.  So if we're to take this as the biblical definition of marriage, then all Christian modesty doctrines are out the window.

Also out the window are any ideas of subservience of the woman to the man.  The NRSV rather clumsily renders the Hebrew ezer kenegedo as 'helper as his partner.'  This at least moves away from the subservient 'help meet' used in the King James Version.  Ezer kenegedo is literally translated as 'a helper like one opposite of him.'**  In other words, Eve is everything that is lacking in Adam, and vice versa.  While this actually bolsters the claim that marriage was initially intended for the natural complement of one man and one woman, it also defeats the claim that the woman was created as anything other than equal to the man.

So if we're going to take this biblical example of marriage seriously, then we must be willing to accept it all.  According to Genesis 2, marriage is between one man and one woman, both of whom are equal to each other, and clothing for modesty's sake is unnecessary.

But Karen, you might say.  This is before the Fall.  Because Eve ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and gave the fruit to Adam to eat as well, modesty became important, and God cursed Eve, making her subservient to Adam.  Good point, I would respond.  But then that begs the question: if the Fall changed what God expected in regards to modesty and gender roles, might it also have changed what he expected in regards to marriage, too?  If not, why not?  If our mortal situation and context can change God's definition of shame, why can't it change his definition of marriage, as well?  (As for it changing his definition of gender roles, I'm not so sure it did.  When God said to Eve, "Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you," was he giving her a commandment, or was he stating an unfortunate fact based on his knowledge of the nature of men?  Just something to think about.)

We know that God intended for Adam and Eve to not be ashamed of their nakedness, but in response to their disobedience, and in response to their new situation of having that shame anyway, what did God do?  Genesis 3:21 tells us, "And the LORD God made garments of skins for the man and for his wife, and clothed them." (NRSV)  Adam and Eve were acting out of their deepest feelings of shame, which were contrary to God's intention for them, but rather than punish them and insist that they remain naked, God himself made clothes for them.

I'm willing to go with the idea that in God's highest ideals for humanity, marriage is between one man and one woman, and that they are to live without shame and without worry in the garden of Eden.  But since the Fall we're not capable of living up to God's highest ideals for us, and the God of the bible I read isn't in the habit of unleashing his wrath on those who are unable to live up to his highest ideals.  He gets pretty ticked when people worship other gods, practice injustice, and exploit the most vulnerable among them, but there's not a whole lot of him getting all fire and brimstone on people for their human moral failings.  In fact, he tends to use many of those people to achieve his work in the world.  As God demonstrated when he stitched together animal skins to cover the beautiful bodies he'd created because Adam and Eve needed him to, he understood where they were coming from, and he adapted his intentions to their needs.  As these posts continue to look at how marriage is depicted in the bible, one of the things I'm going to look at is how God adapts to humanity's changing needs.  If there is biblical evidence that our own human contexts can influence what God will accept from us, then I'm not so sure that we can point to the prototypical marriage, created and established in the garden of Eden before the Fall, and claim it's the only acceptable definition of marriage for all time and in all places.

Genesis 2 might give us God's original intention for marriage, but it is by no means THE biblical definition of marriage.

If you read a little further, you'll find that only six generations later, one of Adam and Eve's descendents invented polygamy.  Genesis 2 defines marriage as being between one man and one woman, but Genesis 4:19 tells us that Lamech took two wives.  Given the fact that he addresses both of them simultaneously in 4:23, there can be no doubt that he was married to them both at the same time.  Lamech single-handedly redefined marriage, essentially saying to God, "I know better than you what constitutes a marriage."  And God did---nothing.  There is no biblical evidence that God objected to this redefinition.  If he was going to nip it in the bud and enforce his original intention, that would be the time to do it, but he didn't.

It will be interesting to see how marriage continues to develop in the bible.  I hope you'll stick with me.



* For my policy on inclusive language in reference to God, see http://www.quietpublications.com/inclusive-language-policy/.
 ** Ancient Hebrew Research Center, "Biblical Hebrew E-Magazine" July 2008, Issue #044

Part 1     Part 2

The Biblical Definition of Marriage, Part 2: Adam and Eve (Genesis 1)

Any discussion about the biblical definition of marriage must begin with Adam and Eve.  They were, after all, the first people created by God, and their story is most frequently invoked as how God defines marriage.  And there you read about one man and one woman, joined together by God.  End of story.

But what exactly does the story say?

First it depends on whether you're looking at the story that's told in Genesis 1 or in Genesis 2.

Genesis 1:26-28 tells this story: "Then God said, 'Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.'  So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.  God blessed them, and God said to them, 'Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth." (NRSV)

Let's forget for a moment that we're looking for a biblical definition of marriage, and consider what the text does and doesn't say.

In the order of creation, humankind* alone is created in God's image.  God's intent in creating humanity was to establish us as caretaker of all the rest of creation.  Men and women were both entrusted with this task equally, as both were created in the image of God.  After they came into being God first blessed them, then commanded them to "Be fruitful and multiply."

One might infer that God just created marriage here, but nowhere in all of Genesis 1 do the words 'marriage,' 'husband,' or 'wife' appear.  To understand this as the establishment of marriage is reading more into the text than is there.  This is the story of how God established humanity as stewards of creation.

The only suggestion that this is a marriage is in God's command to "Be fruitful and multiply."  As I mentioned before, it was the first thing he said to them after blessing them.  But if we're going to read Genesis 1 as the establishment of biblical marriage, then we must also accept that the primary purpose of marriage is to reproduce, and therefore any marriage that does not produce biological offspring is contrary to God's definition of marriage.

More likely, Genesis 1 is not talking about the institution of marriage, but of the primacy of humanity over all other creatures of the earth.  Procreation does require one man and one woman, but as we are well aware, procreation can and does occur outside the bonds of holy matrimony.  God is commanding procreation not as the primary purpose of marriage, but as the way in which humankind is to maintain its dominion over the earth.

But this is all an academic exercise, because few if any point to the Genesis 1 story of Adam and Eve as God's intention for marriage (it's way too egalitarian for many, what with men and women being created equal and equally charged with managing the world).  The Genesis 2 story is much juicier!



*The literal translation is actually 'man,' not 'humanity.'  A more literal rendering of verse 27 would read, "So God created man in his image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them."  Since the final stanza specifically includes both men and women as being created at this time and in this way, I'm going to continue to use the gender-neutral term 'humanity' here, as that is clearly the intent of the original text.

Part 1

How Long Should a Sermon Be?

As has become common for me since I returned to New England, I've been pretty busy doing pulpit supply this summer.  Last week and this week I covered for my own pastor in Chelmsford while he was on vacation with his family.  And it just happened to work out that the two sermons I preached were on opposite ends of the spectrum time-wise.

Last week's sermon very well might be the longest sermon I've ever preached.  If it doesn't hold the record, then it's definitely in the top three.  My word count was 2,462, which took me a little over twenty minutes to preach.  By comparison, this morning's sermon was only 1,165 words, and we were opening our hymnals to the hymn of the day after about eight minutes.  Which sermon had the better length?

I've been thinking about this a lot (ever since last week's sermon, actually), and I think the answer is that last week's sermon length was best for last week's sermon, and this week's sermon length was best for this week's sermon.  My formative Lutheran experience was in a predominately African-American ELCA congregation (yes, a few of them do exist), and the pastor was your classic black preacher, only he happened to have white skin.  His philosophy for preaching and worship was that you preach till you're done, and you worship till you're done.  Since he was my mentor, his philosophy has shaped my approach to worship and preaching.

However, serving in predominately white rural or suburban congregations, I've discovered that 'worship till you're done' isn't a wildly popular concept in most churches.  Generally speaking, they expect 50 minutes to an hour.  Some of them will let me go for an hour and ten minutes, but not a minute longer.  They'll reluctantly accept a service that goes for an hour and twenty minutes if there's something like a baptism, confirmation, or some other special event going on, but they'll also wonder why we didn't cut out some of the readings and prayers to make room for the extra stuff if it goes that long.  Compare this to what happened at Resurrection, my formative congregation; that was the only place where I could show up twenty minutes late and still not miss the Kyrie (the Kyrie is one of the first parts of the service, for anyone reading this who is not familiar with Lutheran liturgy).  They posted that their service ran from 10 to 11 AM, but it really ran to 11:30 pretty much every week.  Finally they decided to change their sign to reflect reality, and stated that they worshiped from 10 to 11:30 AM.  That's when the service started going until noon.  They currently advertise that they worship from 10 to 12.  I'm preaching there in a few weeks, and I'll just tell my husband that I'll be home at some point in the afternoon, because I'm expecting that we'll just worship till we're done.

So I've adjusted my worship planning and leadership to accommodate the stricter schedule, but I haven't changed my preaching.  I preach till I'm done.  Since I'm primarily a manuscript preacher the length is fairly well-defined; you don't have to worry about me being 'caught up in the Spirit' and preaching extemporaneously for ninety minutes.  (I attended a service where that happened once--it exceeded even my ability to just go with it, and I left right after the sermon, even though the service wasn't over.  We'd worshiped for ninety minutes before the sermon even started, and after three hours with no end in sight, I was done.)

This week's sermon was pretty affirming, with no difficult topics, and I could get my point across in relatively few words.  Last week's sermon dealt with prophecy and divorce, and required me to go into more depth.  So I did.  I was glad that this week's sermon was on a lighter topic, because I don't like to double-barrel a congregation two weeks in a row; the fact that this week's sermon was unusually short was coincidence.  Most of my sermons average twelve to fifteen minutes.

So what is the optimum length of a sermon?  A sermon should be exactly how long it needs to be.

Pastor Mama

Ever since I first discerned my call to ministry I have been concerned about my ability to maintain dual roles.  To what extent would I be able to have friendships with people within my congregation, especially if I'm serving in a small town and my opportunities for friendships outside of my congregation are greatly limited?  In the community, is everything I do seen as the Pastor of Such-and-Such Lutheran Church endorsing this or that, or are there times when I can just be Karen doing what she likes?  If I ever get married (much to my surprise, this actually did happen), to what extent will my married life be on display?  To what extent does my husband have to fill the traditional role of 'pastor's wife'?  How can I protect my kids' right to be themselves and make their own mistakes?

Over time I worked out the answers to most of these questions.  My internship was in a very small town, but the congregation understood itself to be training a not-quite-yet pastor, so there was never any question about my authority (I had none).  That made it easier to make friends within the congregation, as they were able to see me as a person rather than THE PASTOR.  The congregation where I served my first call was in a good-sized suburb just outside of Baltimore, and there were plenty of opportunities for me to make friends outside of the congregation (the fact that I didn't was my own fault).  However, when I did do something in the community and was seen by someone in the congregation, my activities and behavior were analyzed and subjectively judged by various members based on how they believed a pastor should spend her free time; that was an ongoing problem for as long as I was there.  My husband was allowed to define his own role as THE PASTOR'S FIANCE at the congregation I was serving when we became engaged, as well as at the congregation where I served my next interim (though by the second interim he had graduated from fiance to full-fledged PASTOR'S HUSBAND).  Both interim congregations saw me as THE PASTOR, though they also both recognized me as a human being with a life of her own.  I've come to realize just how rare and valuable a trait that is in a congregation.  The last congregation I served believed it was their right and privilege to define my role as pastor, my role as a a person in the community, my husband's role as pastor's wife, and our role as parents.  I think the only reason my kids were allowed to be themselves was because my son was less than two years old and my daughter was a newborn.  That call didn't last long, and is the reason why I'm unlikely to ever serve in another congregation, and my husband wants nothing do to with church at all.

At the second interim and my last call, I was both PASTOR and MAMA.  But at all times, when I needed to be the pastor, someone else was there to take over the kids.  And when I had primary responsibility for the kids, I could usually put being the pastor on hold.  I've never had to be both PASTOR and MAMA fully and simultaneously.

Until this past weekend.

A few months ago I was asked to serve as Chaplain for Camp Calumet's Moms and Kids weekend retreat.  For some insane reason, I agreed.  So there I was Friday night, showing up late for the retreat because my GPS put me on the wrong side of the lake from the camp.  I'd had to call my husband on my cell phone and ask him to look up where I was on Google Maps and guide me verbally to where I was supposed to be.  This took nearly thirty minutes of me driving a manual transmission one-handed down unfamiliar dark, windy, hilly roads while juggling a skinny little smart phone (no hands-free technology available) with two freaked out kids in the back seat because mama gets a little scary when she's really stressed out.

Needless to say I was not in a good state of mind when we finally made it to the camp, and I was really hoping I was late enough to have missed the devotion I was supposed to lead, because I didn't think I could possibly guide everyone through a calm, relaxing, meditative experience of centering prayer right then.  Unfortunately I hadn't missed it.  Fortunately we did about an hour of get-to-know-you games first.  Usually I hate those games, but this time I was grateful that they allowed me the time to pull myself together enough to lead the centering prayer.

Of course, I didn't get to do any centering prayer.  All the other kids were older and able to at least sit still and quietly during the extended silence; I learned the next day that some of the 9 to 13 year olds actually did the exercise as I'd instructed, and got something out of it.  My kids, however, were 2 and 4, super-excited about being in a new place with new toys and new people, happy to be out of the car after a 3 hour drive, and up well past their bedtime.  I had my hands full keeping them quiet enough to not completely disrupt the prayer.  The fact that this was a group of moms praying probably helped; they're used to tuning out that kind of noise.

The kids were doing a separate activity the next morning when I was leading the bible study, so I was able to be PASTOR with no distractions.  The rest of the day I got to be exclusively MAMA, since our evening devotion got redefined as the call to worship Sunday morning due to a conflict of geography and technology.  (I needed an audio file on my laptop to help with the devotion, which was impossible once a critical mass of moms insisted that the devotion be moved from the room in the conference center where is was originally scheduled to on the beach, tacked on to the end of the campfire.)

The next morning was when my two roles collided.  I was leading Sunday worship on the deck outside of the conference center.  Hymnals, sermon, communion, the works.  My kids had taken a real shine to another mom, who was there with her mother and her 8 year old son, and they graciously agreed to keep my kids with them while I led.  Spencer was fine with that, especially once he realized that this other mom was happy to entertain him, rather than make him sit still in church the way I do.  I decided to just be grateful for the help and not try to make her hold him to my (very-high-but-still-achievable) standards.  But Naomi was having none of it.

The retreat director had found several volunteers to serve as assisting ministers, so after I led the order of confession and forgiveness and the prayer of the day, I got to sit down in the front row for a bit while other people did the readings.  Naomi spent much of that time on my lap, occasionally getting down to go see what Spencer was doing, then coming back to my lap.  She happened to be with her brother when the time came for the gospel reading and my sermon.  I was ten seconds into the gospel reading when Naomi appeared before me with her arms up and a look on her face that told me she knew very well that I couldn't give her a time-out right then, and she was prepared to throw as much of a temper-tantrum as she needed to in order to get what she wanted.  What could I do?  I picked her up and continued to read the gospel as she laid a very contented head on my shoulder.

That head didn't remain contentedly on my shoulder for long.  I was barely into my sermon when I was interrupted by a devastated wail right in my ear.  I looked behind me and saw Teddy Bear (which is actually a pink lamb with a felt flower sewn onto its hand, but Naomi calls him 'Teddy Bear') had managed to launch himself off my shoulder, over the deck railing, and into a prickly bush on the ground below.  The deck was low, but not low enough for me to reach Teddy Bear.  Naomi was demonstrating just how much capacity her two and a half year old lungs had.  I turned back to the somewhat bemused congregation and asked for a volunteer to go get Teddy Bear.  Several of the older kids raced to the stairs, and the one who got there first continued down and around to the bush, retrieved Teddy Bear, passed him to me through the railing, then returned to his seat.  I found where I'd left off on my sermon manuscript and continued on, Naomi once more contently resting her head on my shoulder and holding on very tightly to Blanket and Teddy Bear.  (I think she believed me when I whispered to her that if Teddy Bear fell down again he was staying down, though I know I couldn't have stopped other people from embarking on another Teddy Bear Retrieval Mission if they'd deemed one necessary.)  I preached an entire fifteen minute sermon holding my daughter in my arms behind the lectern that was serving as a pulpit.  While everyone else stood for the hymn of the day, I sat, Naomi on my lap (until she got down to see what Spencer was up to again) shaking my sore right arm vigorously.

She reluctantly stayed with the other mom while I did the communion liturgy, but made herself something of an obstacle during the distribution.  People coming to me for the bread had to step a little to the side and lean over her, because she was standing directly in front of me with her arms up again, wanting to be picked up.  This time it wasn't going to happen.  I can preach and turn the pages of my sermon manuscript one-handed--not so with ripping off small pieces of bread from a larger loaf and handing them to people one at a time.  Eventually I paused in the distribution, put one hand on her head, and gave her my standard blessing for children and others not receiving communion, with a slight deviant addition: "May you always know God's love and care in all that you do.  Now go stand over there please.  Amen."  And it actually worked!  She went and stood over where I told her to.  Ten seconds later Spencer was cutting the line and received the exact same blessing, word for word.  It worked for him, too.

Mercifully the service ended shortly after that.

I am a textual preacher, and the text on Sunday never mentioned Mother's Day.  I never mentioned Mother's Day, or mothers in general, in my sermon.  But what better day to have the preacher preach with her child in her arms?

For all that I've struggled with dual roles, the final verdict is that I am KAREN.  Sometimes I'm a whole host of other things, too.  But on Mother's Day, 2012, at Camp Calumet, New Hampshire, I was PASTOR MAMA.  And I'm good with that.

Christian Families, Motherhood, and Womanhood Series, Part One: Government, Contraception, and the First Amendment

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately reflecting on what it means to be a Christian wife and mother in 21^st century America.  Partly this is because I am a Christian wife and mother in 21^st century America, and partly this is because I’ve been doing a lot of research on the Quiverfull movement for a novel I’m writing.  Watching the political battles unfold in the media have also contributed to this, as once again the candidates’ religious beliefs are being used to condemn, divide, and further alienate much of the electorate who seem to fall on the wrong side of something or the other.

As a result of all this reflecting, I’m going to be sharing several posts on the general subject of Christian families, motherhood, and womanhood, beginning today.  I hope you’ll stick with me, and as always I welcome your comments, whether you agree with my opinions or not, but I do ask you to keep it civil and respectful.  In return, I’m going to put considerable effort into keeping these posts as opinions rather than rants.  So without further ado, here is my Christian Families, Motherhood, and Womanhood Series, Part One:  Government, Contraception, and the First Amendment.

There has been a lot of outrage recently about the Affordable Care Act being managed by Health and Human Services (HHS).  (You can read the original press release announcing specifics of the Act here.)  Specifically the outrage is about the mandate that all employer-sponsored health insurance plans offer FDA-approved contraceptive services without cost-sharing, i.e. free of charge to the women who want them.  The Act does allow a narrow exemption for religious institutions to opt out of the contraceptive mandate, however that exemption did not originally include religious hospitals, universities, or other non-worship specific religious organizations.  At the time of this writing, the Obama Administration has indicated that it intends to recommend a compromise which would extend the exemption to those religious entities, and instead put the onus of free coverage on the insurance companies themselves, requiring them to contract with the covered individuals of exempted employers directly to provide contraceptive services for free.  (You can read the White House Fact Sheet on the compromise here.)

This article published by the National Catholic Register nicely summarizes many of the objections made not just by Catholics, but other Christians and even some Jewish groups.  This quote appears early in the article:  “But all see a major unifier in the mandate’s violation of the First Amendment guarantee of freedom of religion and protection of conscience.”  Some other quotes are:

• “We … call upon HHS Secretary Sebelius and the Obama administration to rescind this unjust ruling and to respect the religious freedom guaranteed all Americans by the First Amendment,” [the Assembly of Canonical Orthodox Bishops of North and Central America] stated.
• [The National Association of Evangelicals] noted that freedom of conscience is a “sacred gift from God, not a grant from the state.” It also said, “No government has the right to compel its citizens to violate their conscience. The HHS rules trample on our most cherished freedoms and set a dangerous precedent.”
• The Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod’s [Matthew] Harrison believes with this “secular assault on those of us who hold traditional Christian values … we have a responsibility to stand up and confess in the face of this opposition. It never has been more the time to stand up than now."

The first problem I see is with the appeal to the First Amendment.  Just as a point of reference, the text of the First Amendment reads as follows: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”  There is no mention in the First Amendment of “protection of conscience.”  In fact, there is quite a bit of precedent in the legal history of the United States that state (or Federal) laws that abide by a “neutral law of general applicability” (i.e. the law uniformly applies to everyone and does not single out a certain religion or religious practice) can interfere with the religious liberty of an individual if there is a compelling state interest.  (For an excellent discussion on this topic, read this summary by Richard S. Myers, Law Professor at Ave Maria School of Law.)  In this case the compelling state interest is equal access to medical care for women regardless of where they work.

In regards to the claim that this mandate violates the free exercise of religion (wording that is explicitly included in the First Amendment), this mandate does not require that women must obtain and use birth control that may be contrary to their faith.  To the Orthodox Bishops, HHS and the Obama Administration do respect the religious freedom of all Americans, including those who choose to refrain from birth control, and those who object to religious controls over their access to birth control.  To the National Association of Evangelicals, the government is not compelling its female citizens to violate their consciences (not-for-profit religious organizations do not qualify as citizens).  And to the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod, there is no secular assault on traditional Christian values; there are safeguards, however, to prevent a religious assault on non-Christian women who hold secular values.

I like the compromise that the Administration is recommending, because it achieves the public goal of providing free access to all women regardless of where they work, and it keeps religious organizations completely out of that arrangement.  The objection I’m anticipating to this compromise is the (probably correct) assumption that insurance companies will increase their rates across the board in order to pay for the women who contract directly with the insurance companies, thus making religious organizations pay for these services indirectly.

Yet the truth is that religious organizations pay for these services indirectly anyway, no matter what.  When a Catholic priest fills a prescription for the antibiotic Amoxicillin, he and his insurance company are giving profits to Teva Pharmaceuticals, the company that currently owns Plan B, which is considered by many conservatives to be an abortion-inducing pill.  Neither the Catholic Church nor any other church can dictate to Teva how they choose to use profits earned on products such as innocent antibiotics, nor can religious organizations dictate to insurance companies how those companies are to use the money they receive on insurance premiums, beyond providing the specific services required by their existing contracts.  So the ‘indirect payment’ argument is a nonstarter.

The fact is that while this country does respect the free exercise of religion, that freedom cannot come at the expense of public wellbeing, and at the moment, the availability of free birth control to women who have employer-sponsored health plans is considered necessary to public wellbeing.  (Whether it should be is a whole other debate, and will most likely be covered in a future blog post in this series.)

All that said, I do believe that there were some valid points made in the National Catholic Register article.  In particular I agree with John Stonestreet, national programs director of BreakPoint, a part of the Colson Center for Christian Worldview, who said the following: “The language of (HHS Secretary Kathleen) Sebelius’ release treats pregnancy as a disease that needs to be prevented. That’s bad news. Despite different stances we (Catholics and evangelicals and Protestants) have on birth control, that language is unacceptable and opens the door to a whole bunch of evils.”

I agree.  Sebelius’ exact words in the HHS press release were “The Affordable Care Act helps stop health problems before they start.”  That quote came immediately after a list of benefits, ending with “contraception without charging a co-payment, co-insurance or a deductible.”  That combined with the title of the press release—Affordable Care Act Ensures Women Receive Preventive Services at No Additional Cost—leaves little doubt that HHS considers pregnancy a health problem that should be prevented.  Interpreting the language that way is not a stretch; what is a stretch is interpreting it any other way.

Clearly I’m in favor of providing free access to contraceptives, but I strongly oppose characterizing pregnancy as a health problem to be prevented.  Pregnancy may not always be a delightful, mystical bonding experience of a mother and her child (morning sickness, gestational diabetes, excessive swelling, back pain, etc. are all medical issues associated with pregnancy that often need to be addressed proactively), but categorizing pregnancy as a health problem that needs to be prevented is the same as categorizing aerobic exercise as a health problem because it results in increased heart rate.  Both pregnancy and aerobic exercise need to be done carefully and wisely, but neither is a health problem to be prevented.

Does the wording really matter?  Yes.  All words matter.  I teach that to my kids all the time.  If you tell a person that they’re ugly, stupid, and worthless, eventually they’re going to believe it.  If the major health service agency of the United States government characterizes pregnancy as a health problem that needs to be prevented, then that too will enter into the public consciousness.  (In some ways it already has, but again, that’s a whole other blog post.  See why I have to make this a series?)  I don’t mind contraception being part of the Affordable Care Act, but I’d really rather it not be included under ‘preventative’ services.

The other point well taken in the National Catholic Register article is the one made by Nathan Diament of the Union of Orthodox Jewish Congregations of America.  He stated, “Most troubling is the administration’s underlying rationale for its decision, which appears to be a view that if a religious entity is not insular, but engaged with broader society, it loses its ‘religious’ character and liberties. … The administration’s ruling makes the price of such an outward approach the violation of an organization’s religious principles.”  At the core of Christianity, Judaism, and (I believe) Islam is the understanding that the faithful must be actively engaged with the world, particularly in regards to charity.  Retreating into safe, private enclaves and ignoring the needs of your neighbors is simply not an option.  Yet the narrowly defined exemption requires exactly that.  (This is somewhat mitigated by the Administration’s compromise, which came about after the National Catholic Register’s article was written.)

In all, I think there’s overreaching by the Administration, and I think there’s overreaching by religious conservatives.  It’s going to take a lot of hard work and humility on both sides to recognize that the United States of America is not a theocracy, however it does need to respect that fact that it has a lot of people who live by strict religious principles.  Let’s try to figure out a way to respect both the religious and the non-religious, and not fight a Holy War over sexual morality.

Which is another topic I’ll be posting on soon.

Refocusing for the New Year

Yes, I realize we're coming up on the second week of January, but the general tone of my life for the past few years (ever since I became a mom, come to think of it) has been that of constantly trying to 'catch up' and maybe even 'get ahead' of things, and never quite achieving it.  So it makes perfect sense that I'm just now getting around to thinking about how I want to approach this new year.

Going into 2010, my hope was simply that it would be better than 2009.  I think I can honestly say it turned out to be worse.  Going into 2011, my hope was that it would be better than 2010.  Some things were better, some things were worse, so overall I'd call it a net neutral, i.e. no change.  Going into 2012, initially I was just hoping that it would be better than 2011, and then I realized that that strategy hasn't been working out so well for me.  So this time I want to set some specific goals on how to make it better.

I've never been a big fan of New Year's Resolutions.  They've never worked for me, and they seem just too trite and faddish.  Who doesn't go into the new year wanting to lose weight, get their finances under control, and be a happier/nicer/better person overall?  Oh yes, and quit or cut down on [insert favorite vice here].  But it seems I do need to be a little more specific and intentional if I want 2012 to be better than 2009, 2010, or 2011.

A blog I follow (Introverted Church) recently posted about having a New Year's Rule of Life instead of New Year's Resolutions.  According to author Adam S. McHugh, "a rule of life is a way of arranging the rhythms of your life - all aspects of your life - so that you can best embrace God's gifts."  He then further breaks it down into the four categories listed in Jesus' greatest commandment: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength."  He suggests that you create your rule of life so that you have elements in each category that are natural and desirable (and therefore more likely for you to keep) as well as some things that are a bit of a stretch.  If you regularly and consistently fail at your rule of life, then it's a bad rule and you need to revise it.

I particularly like this way of thinking about things because I want to live a Christ-centered life that takes into account my gifts, abilities, circumstances, and limitations.  As I see it, if I set a rule of life that I can't keep, then it's probably not really a rule of my life, but a rule of someone else's life.  I am who I am, not who I wish I was, not who someone else thinks I should be.  I can make some changes to improve myself, but I can only improve upon what's already there, and not be something that I'm not.

So when I think about what I want 2012 to look like according to these categories, I immediately run into a problem.  I'm perpetually worried about finances, and, since we're still recovering from our long stint of dual unemployment a few years ago, that concern is somewhat justified (even though my husband is working now, and we've got a concrete and realistic plan that we're in the process of executing to cut our current expenses).  But Jesus didn't address financial stability in the greatest commandment, so trying to prioritize it as a goal in its own right doesn't work.

And maybe that's a good thing.  Our lowest period in the last three years was indisputably the seven months we lived in rural Iowa when I was serving as pastor at a highly toxic and unhealthy church.  Why were we there?  Because we'd been living entirely off savings for eight months when I started that call, my husband's industry seemed to have fallen into a black hole never to be heard from again, and our best hope for survival was for me to find a job (acknowledging that I'd earn less than half of what he'd been making).  My most marketable skill was ministry.  I didn't look too closely at the red flags that came up during my interview process, and I believed the fiction that the congregation presented.  If I hadn't been so desperate for a paycheck, maybe I would have looked more closely, and avoided the whole nightmare.  But wanting financial security was my overwhelming priority, and we're still paying for that mistake two years later.

So as far as my goal of financial security is concerned, I'm just going to have to let it go, because it doesn't have a place in a Christ-centered rule of life.  That doesn't mean I should be stupid about money, but it does mean that it's not important enough to warrant a place of its own.  I preach and write all the time about the importance of trusting God; maybe it's time I try it myself (practicing what I preach?  What a concept!).

So what is important enough to warrant a place of its own in a Christ-centered, great commandment ordered rule of life?

Heart:  In 2012, I'm going to have regular date nights with my husband in which we will learn to just enjoy each other's company again, rather than using the time to strategize our survival.  I'm going to play with my children at least once a week.  (I'm philosophically opposed to being my kids' primary playmate--they can play alone, with each other, and make their own friends, but I'm always going to be MOMMY first.  That said, it doesn't mean we can't have fun together.)  I'm going to make friends with some of the women at my church, starting with attending their monthly events.

Soul:  I've known since I left Iowa that I'm spiritually wounded and in need of healing.  It seems I've found a safe church home at my current congregation (where I'm just a member and, when necessary, provide pulpit supply).  I'll continue worshiping there, plus contributing to the ministry of the congregation (I've already been asked by some of the women I went to the retreat with in November if I'd teach a bible study on a specific subject).  I also find that I'm benefiting spiritually from writing Quiet Devotions, so I'll continue doing that, and I'll try to write other spiritual and theological resources.  (This might actually someday contribute to financial stability, as my hope is to self-publish and sell some congregational resources, but for now I'm only setting my goal on writing that enriches my own spiritual health, and trusting that if God wants to use those resources to help others, then he will.)

Mind:  As much as I like the idea of getting a Ph.D, I know that now is not the time.  Instead, I'm going to continue reading both fiction (I'm on a 19th century kick right now, though will sometimes mix it up with fantasy or contemporary literary fiction) and non-fiction, usually theologically related.  While I'll continue to follow politics, economics, and current events, I want to make this blog a little less political and a little more personal, spiritual, and theological.  If I comment about politics or current events, I'm going to try to look at it from a theological perspective.  (I've just written a couple of devotions that emphasized the importance of keeping God in mind in all that we say and do, so this blog is probably a good place to try to put that in action.  Again, practicing what I preach--this is going to be hard!)

Strength:  Yes, this is the 'lose weight and get healthy' part of it.  Specifically I'm going to track what I eat in a logbook (something I've been doing on and off since August), weigh myself weekly, and make adjustments to my diet to try to keep it balanced, healthy, and results in my losing some poundage.  I'm also going to get on my recumbent bike for at least ten minutes a day, three times a week.  I know that's considerably less exercise than is recommended, but since quitting the gym two months ago I'm starting at zero.  I'll follow some advice I came across the other day and try to increase my exercise a little bit each month.  Even though my progress will be slow, I'll be establishing a habit with each increase, hopefully keeping it manageable and not getting discouraged.  When the weather improves I'll add some outdoor activities, but since I don't know exactly where I'll be living then, I'll reserve specifics until I have more information.  (Yes, we're moving again.  More on that later.)

So that's my Rule of Life for 2012.  I truly hope this will help make this year better than last year.  And the year before that.  And the year before that.  Wish me luck!

Announcing Quiet Devotions!

Through this blog I've been writing about a variety of issues, and it's been a fun experience for me.  But when I think about what kind of writing I'm likely to make a career out of, I keep coming back to religion.  So while I'll keep this blog as a sort of catch-all (and definitely an outlet for my political rants!), I'm going to be putting more of my effort into establishing myself as a religious writer.

To that end, I'm please to announce Quiet Devotions.  According to the daily lectionary in the back of Evangelical Lutheran Worship, tomorrow begins daily readings for Year B.  So beginning tomorrow, Quiet Devotions will feature a brief reflection and prayer based on one of the daily readings.  If you're looking for something to help focus your personal prayer life, I encourage you to subscribe to that page.

In the future I'll publish other religious resources as well, but for now I'm just going to keep up with the devotionals.  I hope you'll find them helpful and thought-provoking!

A Modern Psalm of Lament From a Former Pastor

I spent this past weekend at a women's retreat at Camp Calumet in West Ossipee, NH.  I signed up through my church, and it was a good opportunity to get to know some of the other women I see every Sunday, but don't get to talk to or interact with very much.  I was a little nervous, because I don't do large groups very well, and I don't make friends very easily.

But I'm really glad I went.

If you've been reading my posts for a while, then you know that I'm struggling to recover from a toxic and unhealthy congregation where I served as solo pastor.  I've known intellectually that I was emotionally and spiritually harmed by that experience, but I don't think I realized the depth of that pain until this weekend.

The theme of the weekend was "Psalms: Prayers of the Heart."  The chaplain, Rev. Elaine Hewes, led us in an exercise where we wrote our own psalm, either of lament or of thanksgiving/praise (or some mixture of both).  Not surprisingly, I had a lament in me.  Quite surprisingly, however, the act of writing this psalm touched a raw, painful place deep within me, and I started crying.  Bawling.  Big, choking sobs.  In the middle of a crowded room full of strangers.  I got up and ran to the bathroom, where I tried to pull myself together.  When I thought I had, I went back into the hallway, where I found two women from my church waiting for me, wanting to make sure I was OK.  Just seeing the look of concern on their faces made me lose it all over again, and the next thing I knew I was being embraced and comforted by women whose names I didn't even know (their scarves were blocking their name tags), but such knowledge was completely unnecessary right then.

I was in a much better place after that, and I think it might have been the first real step in my healing, nearly two years after the damage was done.  Not only did it help me realize some things about the nature and the depths of my own woundedness, but it also served to show me that the church is not exclusively the domain of the selfish, vicious, treacherous, and abusive personalities that caused such harm at my last call.

So for what it's worth, here is my modern psalm of lament, written by a former pastor.  It's in the basic form of an acrostic, though you'll see I took a few liberties (poetic license) when necessary.

Accept me, O Lord,

because your people have not.  A

congregation of your followers sought to

destroy my marriage and my faith.

Every day I live with the pain,

feeling their rejection, and my failure to

guide them back to your ways.

Have mercy on me, Abba.

Ignite my faith where it has dimmed, and show me your

justice.

Keep my family together.

Let those who have strayed from you but call themselves by your name

make right their wrongs, and

know that what they say and what they do matters.

Open my heart, O Lord, and heal the

pain that lives there.

Quiet my demons, and

restore my faith.

Show me your faithful, your forgiven people who remain

true to your path,

unable to be perfect, but

very loving, very giving.

Where are you, Lord?

Explain how this can happen in

your Church.

Zeal is yours, Lord.  I'm waiting for you to show it.

Faith Vs. Reason?

Last week I wondered what Christians do that give others the opinion that we're either angry, judgmental, and unhappy, or else stupid.  This week I have yet another example as to why.

GOP presidential hopeful Michele Bachmann said to a group in Florida, "I don't know how much God has to do to get the attention of the politicians.  We've had an earthquake; we've had a hurricane.  He said, 'Are you going to start listening to me here?  Listen to the American people because the American people are roaring right now.  They know government is on a morbid obesity diet and we've got to reign in the spending.'"*  Really?  God is mad at American politicians who value spending money to try to help the poor and bring peace to the world over keeping a balanced budget?  I realize that how government spends taxpayer money is certainly a matter for debate, as are the intentions behind such spending, the effectiveness of the efforts, and the appropriateness of such priorities in a democracy.  But claiming natural disasters, one of which took forty lives (and counting!), are God's way of championing the rights of Americans who don't like the way their government is being run is heartless, arrogant, ignorant, and cruel.  I'm one who thinks the government needs to reign in spending, but I don't want God to throw a tree at an 11 year old boy's home and killing him to make my point.  Furthermore I refuse to worship a God who does so.  Fortunately I don't have to repudiate my faith or my God, because Bachmann's interpretation of recent events is wrong.  She does not have the monopoly on understanding God's will.  (Neither do I, before you start pointing fingers.)  Unfortunately she's got a microphone to help her spread her interpretation, and media focusing attention on it.  No one is going to repeat with such fervor that the earthquake was due to perfectly natural friction caused by the constantly moving tectonic plates beneath the earth's crust, or that the hurricane was caused by typical weather patterns for this time of year.

Not all Christians believe as Bachmann does, but she's got the louder voice and the sexier story, so her beliefs are understood as representative of all believing Christians.

And we (those of us who subscribe to faith and reason) let her do it, by keeping silent.

It's understandable why we keep silent.  When we speak and offer an alternative interpretation, those who believe as Bachmann does shout us down with their accusations that we're not really Christians, that our faith is tainted, or misguided, and not true Christianity.  And those who aren't Christian (by their own profession, not my designation) won't listen to us, because we're Christian and therefore obviously ignorant and reactionary, because they know how Christians are (they've heard what Michele Bachmann said, after all!).

I don't know how to counter this.  With the increasing polarization in politics, society, and the world, 'faith seeking understanding' is no longer seen as a viable approach.  It's now either/or.  The most vocal Christians proclaim that faith gives all the answers, and anything that challenges those answers challenges the faith.  Because of that insistence, faith has been pushed out of all other conversations, and those of us who have faith are assumed to have nothing of value to contribute.  That more than anything else, I believe, is what may succeed in relegating the church to irrelevancy.  In many ways, we're almost there already.

It doesn't have to be a choice between faith and reason.  The two are not diametrically opposed.  There are thinking Christians out there, trying to contribute to the important conversations.  And they are out there, doing good work in spreading the good news.  They just never make the news.  At best they're seen as the exception, and at worst, they're not seen at all.
 

*As reported by the L.A. Times.

Identifying with the Church-Harmed

I've been doing a lot of pulpit supply since I returned to Massachusetts, mostly at the church where I'm a sort-of member.  I've actually preached there five Sundays out of the last seven, which is good, because I never could have preached the sermon I preached on Sunday if I weren't known to and had established trust with the congregation.  In order to preach the sermon I was led to preach, I had to get personal, and I don't do that with congregations I don't know.

The gospel lesson I was preaching on was from Matthew, when Jesus asks his disciples, "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?" and then, "But who do you say that I am?"  (The full passage was Matthew 16:13-20, if you're interested.)  When preparing to write the sermon, I found a note written next to this passage in my bible, probably from a text study I attended years ago: Outsiders' opinion of Jesus.  Why does the Church today need to hear what non-church people say about the Church?  What do we do with that information?  And with that old notation, the direction for my sermon was set.  I needed to explore what Christians do that give non-Christians the impression that we're angry, unhappy, judgmental hypocrites, or else simplistic and too stupid to really understand what's going on around us (because let's face it: when you see Christians depicted in movies and on television, that's usually how we're portrayed).  Sure, there are the obvious culprits like Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, but we can't lay all the blame at their feet.  There are a lot of ordinary, non-famous and non-controversial Christians out there who do a lot of harm to others, and give both Christianity and God a bad name while doing so.

And that's where my sermon had to get personal.  I am one of the Church-harmed, and my own story demonstrates the point I was trying to make better than an over-the-top Falwell or Robertson foot-in-mouth moment that most people can simply dismiss as idiocy.

I was first harmed by the Church (my capitalization here is intentional) when I was thirteen years old.  I'd been attending CCD at the same Catholic Church since kindergarten, at the same church I'd been baptized in, and where my parents had been married.  At the beginning of 8th grade they signed me up for CCD automatically, but no one bothered to tell me where and when to report.  So I missed the first class.  The next day in Social Studies several schoolmates, who were also in that CCD class, told me that the teacher (CCD wasn't taught by the priest) had told everyone there that I was the spawn of the devil because I obviously didn't care about learning about God, and that their eternal souls would be at risk if they associated with me.  Fortunately for me, they weren't too worried about their eternal souls, so I didn't lose any friends over this.  That church did lose a member (me only--my parents had already stopped going because the Church didn't recognize their divorce), and once I got confirmed later that year (at another Catholic Church in the center of town--my mother made me), I left the Catholic Church and never looked back.

The second time was four years later, when I was attending an evangelical church with a friend.  We were going on a ski trip to Vermont, but the bus that had been chartered to take us there never showed up.  The youth pastor organized us into cars driven by adult volunteers, without informing our parents of the change.  The volunteer driving the car I was in drove recklessly and caused a serious accident.  No one was killed, but I missed nearly two months of school recovering from my injuries, and then spent several more months unable to walk without the assistance of crutches or a cane.  My mother sued the church, and I was then informed by some of the leadership that I was an unrepentant sinner beyond all hope of salvation.

Fast forward through my years of atheism, militant church-hating, and then eventual return and even (shock, horror, and awe) ordination, to a first call with a workaholic senior pastor who was unable to share leadership and allow me the autonomy to minister according to my own gifts, to a second call at a level three conflict congregation (a fact that was known to the synod, but was hidden from me).  Because I wasn't aware of the dynamics going in, I didn't provide the correct leadership for that level of conflict, and it quickly became level four.  That last experience caused serious spiritual harm to me and to my family, and has me questioning whether or not I ever want to have anything to do with congregational ministry again.

And the reason I put all of this into my sermon is because all this harm was caused by other Christians, and we as Christians need to know that our words and our actions matter.  I called myself one of the Church-harmed earlier, because I've discovered that there's a disturbingly large number of people who have been harmed by the Church in similar ways.  We are pastors who have been spiritually and emotionally destroyed by abusive congregations.  We are church members who have been exploited and condemned by abusive pastors.  We are seekers who have been judged and convicted by well-meaning believers who are convinced that their understanding alone is sufficient to determine who is worthy of God's love, and who is not.  We are still on the fringes, trying to find our place in the Church.  We are seeking acceptance and belonging in secular circles, wanting nothing to do with the Church.  We're okay with God, but don't want anything to do with the people of God.  We're not okay with God, because who wants to be okay with a God who lets his* people treat others like that?  Or it doesn't matter if we're okay with God or not, because our experiences with Christians have convinced us that there is no God.

I now identify with this group.  And who knows--maybe my calling as a pastor is to reach out to others like me, and to make sure a part of the Church is safe for those who have been harmed by it before.

Assuming the Church doesn't totally beat me down first.


*I disagree with the current efforts to use only gender-neutral language for God, but I'll save that for another post at a later time.

Remembering Emma

I'd written something I was going to post today.  It was one of those witty mom posts in which I complain about my kids in a funny way and wax eloquent about how much simpler life was before I had them.  I may yet post it at some point.  But I can't post it today.

I got word on Sunday night that Emma died.  I've never met Emma.  I've never met Emma's parents.  My family connection to Emma is so distant that it would sound like the beginning of a bad joke if I tried to explain it here, and there's just no room in my heart for such jokes right now.  Suffice it to say that while Facebook is sometimes criticized for inflating the importance of casual acquaintances, it sometimes does allow people to be touched by others that they wouldn't have been otherwise.  Emma is one of those cases.  Her maternal grandfather is an old friend of my husband's, and even though we've never met personally, he and I are Facebook friends.  Emma's aunt is married to my brother-in-law, and we have met, and are also Facebook friends.  And through their status updates, I got to know Emma.

Emma was born on July 12, 2009 with a genetic defect that threatened her life the moment she left her mother's womb.  The hospital was ready for this, having detected the defect in utero via ultrasound.  Extraordinary measures were taken immediately to give this precious child a chance at life.  I don't have all the details, and they aren't important anyway, but I believe she was on full life support for a time before undergoing multiple surgeries.  I don't think her parents were able to take her home from the hospital for about six months, and to my knowledge she was always dependent on supplementary oxygen.

Through her aunt's and grandfather's status updates, frequently asking for prayers, I saw this little girl struggle to survive.  I saw her come through every surgery, endure every hardship, and celebrate every victory.  As she continued to grow and her family posted pictures, I could see her young personality just beginning to emerge.  I saw her smile for the camera, the oxygen tube taped to her adorably pudgy cheeks.

But such a young body isn't built for the high levels of trauma she suffered, and the surgeries and the treatments necessary for saving her life caused complications of their own.  She caught a respiratory ailment that probably wouldn't have been a big deal for most children, but for her it proved to be fatal.  She died on Sunday, less than two weeks after her second birthday.

My kids were already in bed when I found out.  All I wanted to do was hold them.  My son had been sick earlier, and got a second look at his supper as it coated his pillow, his sheets, and his beloved stuffed Cat (who is still drying out--Giraffe is stepping in temporarily).  I was glad that he still couldn't sleep and needed to be cuddled.  I held him and rocked him and cried into his hair, grateful that an upset tummy can be easily soothed, and knowing there are far worse things to face than a vomit-covered bed.

A couple of hours later my daughter woke up crying.  I usually let her cry, not wanting her to get in the habit of a midnight cuddle, but this night I jumped right out of bed and held her close, stroking her wispy curly hair so similar to Emma's.  Naomi's just four months younger than Emma.  I held her in my arms and cried, not even wanting to imagine the heartbreak Emma's parents must be feeling.

No parent should have to bury their child.  I know it happens all the time, but it still shouldn't be.  As Emma is laid to rest tomorrow, my heart goes out to her parents.  My prayers have been with them unceasingly since Sunday, and as Emma returned home to her Lord, she was surrounded by the prayers of hundreds of people she'd never met, but who mourn her passing.

Rest in peace, Emma.

In Memory of Emma Seraphym Ballard

July 12, 2009 - July 24, 2011

Context, Costume, and Identity

Under the best of circumstances, my children's sermons suck.  This past Sunday was no exception.  And it was not the best of circumstances.

I'd just invited the children to come forward, and they'd all come up (all four of them--not bad, actually, for the middle of summer) and assembled themselves in a line, sitting on the stair leading up to the chancel area.  I took a breath and opened my mouth, about to launch into my vain attempt to be interesting and informative to the average six year old, when one of them spoke up and demanded, "Where's the pastor?"

I was the only adult standing, I'd led the liturgy up to this point (with the assisting minister and reader--great lay leadership and participation in this congregation!), my clerical collar peeked out the top of my alb, and my stole matched (more or less) the paraments on the pulpit and altar.  Several people in the congregation snickered in their amusement as I said to the child, "I'm the pastor."  He looked at me in stark disbelief, and I heard more snickering as I found myself having to explain, "I know I'm not your regular pastor, but he's on vacation, and I'm filling in while he's away."  The kid seemed to accept that, and I was finally able to launch into my poorly crafted children's sermon, which flopped as usual, and then they were free to go back to their seats and I was free to go back to my comfort zone in the pulpit.  But that child's question, and the fact that he hadn't recognized me as pastor even while I was in full costume and doing all the things a pastor does during worship stuck with me.

Anyone can wear the costume and say they're a pastor, but that doesn't mean they are one.  Even someone wearing all the appropriate clothes and doing all the appropriate things in a worship setting can just as easily be an imposter.

That innocent question from a confused child had exposed me for what I'd been feeling like all along.  When I don the uniform and stand up there on Sunday mornings, I feel like an imposter.  Even though I'm technically in good standing with my roster status listed as "On Leave From Call - Family Leave," I also can't forget that some have labeled me (and I've labeled myself, if I'm going to be honest about it) as a "failed pastor."  My last call went horribly wrong for a variety of reasons, and I enjoyed no coverage or support from my bishop or his staff.  It's unclear if I could get another call now even if I wanted to (which, right now, I most certainly do not want).  I've done nothing pastoral for a solid year (no preaching, no worship planning or leadership, no teaching, no visiting, nothing).  The moment I returned to Massachusetts and made myself known to a few pastors in the New England Synod, I was immediately sucked back into the vortex of pulpit supply.  But despite the three weeks I've already served as substitute pastor, with two more to go (and still counting), I've not felt like a pastor.  At all.

An hour and a half after that six year old asked me that question, I showed up for the last day's programming of Readercon 22.

Readercon is an annual convention of science fiction and fantasy writers and fans.  Unlike other science fiction conventions, Readercon focuses almost exclusively on the craft of writing.  I learned about it from my husband, who is an avid reader of the genre.  I have nothing against science fiction myself, but it's never particularly grabbed me, either.  However, because Readercon focuses so heavily on the craft of writing, most of the panels are of interest to a nonfiction writer and aspiring writer of literary (opposed to speculative) fiction, like me.

I'd attended the previous two days of programming as well, and I'd pretty much blended into the scenery.  On Sunday, however, I'd come straight from worship, and even though I'd left my stole, alb, and pectoral cross in the car, I was still wearing my tabbed black clergy shirt and black skirt.  This time, I was noticed.

Why didn't I de-tab before going in?  I could have.  But I think I was rebelling against an anti-religious sentiment that had been pervading the entire convention.  Earlier in the weekend, at different panels, I'd heard religion (particularly Christianity) referred to as -- at best -- a "silly superstition" and -- at worst -- a "dangerous colonial imperialism" that "oppressed" people.  The context was inappropriate for a debate on the merits of my particular theology, but I was in no mood to hide my beliefs, either.  I had a legitimate reason to be wearing that collar; I wasn't about to 'camouflage' my uniform because many of the people there didn't think much of what it represented.

The reaction to me was mixed.  Some people asked me, politely and (I interpreted) out of genuine curiosity, what brought me to Readercon.  I recognize that some of the anti-religious sentiment was triggered by some Christians' very vocal opposition to the science fiction and fantasy genres as a whole.  All of it has been categorically dismissed as 'pagan' or 'devil-inspired.'  My presence was a curiosity, and my uniform combined with my bearing and manner (i.e. I was engaging with the panels the way everyone else was, rather than pounding a bible and threatening hell and damnation on everyone who wouldn't repent and be saved) made me an approachable representative of Christianity.  Some talked to me about religion.  Others disregarded my attire and talked to me as a human being (how refreshing!).  Others gave me a very wide berth when I walked down the hallway.  But no one attacked me.

And through it all, it felt right to me.  I knew I was wearing 'distinctive' clothing, but it felt more like a uniform than a costume.  I felt like the clerical collar represented who I was and what I believed.  As I talked with people, I was even able to bring legitimacy to my claims of being a writer because of the writing I've done in the course of my ministry.  I'm a writer who ministers.  I'm a minister who writes.  I can't do one without the other.

Officially, I'm in a period of discernment as I focus on raising my kids.  (At least that's my justification for staying on the roster, rather than just dropping off.)  I think what I need to discern is why I feel more like a pastor at a gathering of non-religious science fiction writers and fans, but I feel like an imposter at church.  What is my calling, anyway?

Too Offensive? Or Too Easily Offended?

I am way behind in my reading.  I've got a stack of periodicals that are getting increasingly outdated that I'm working my way through (except for the ones that I eventually throw away without reading, because they're just to irrelevant now).

Right now I'm working my way through the May 17th issue of the Christian Century, which also happens to be the last issue of my subscription.  I like the magazine, and I get a lot out of the articles despite the somewhat liberal Calvinist perspective (I'd always thought 'liberal Calvinist' was an oxymoron, but apparently not!), but I simply can't keep up with a biweekly publication right now.

A regular feature of the Christian Century is the section "Living By The Word," in which a guest contributor writes up a reflection on the upcoming two weeks' worth of lectionary readings.  Quinn G. Caldwell, who is listed as being the associate minister of Old South Church (UCC) in Boston wrote the reflections in this issue.  In his reflection for May 22 he wrote about interfaith dialogue and worship, and he described two ways of going about it.  The first way waters down everyone's faith to the lowest common denominator, so that everyone agrees to only say things that everyone else in the room can agree with.  The other way, which he identifies as his preferred way, allows and encourages everyone to be unafraid about who they are and what they believe.  He writes, "Rather than agreeing not to risk being offensive, we agree not to be easily offended."

I like this approach, and not just for interfaith dialogue.  What would happen if, in general, people worked harder at not being offended rather than not being offensive?  Your personal faith claim of ultimate truth isn't an attack on mine.  My preferred parenting method isn't a critique of yours.  Her strong preference for the culture of a coastal city isn't a slam against his strong preference for the community of a midwestern farming town.  The way one person chooses to live his or her life isn't a judgment on how someone else chooses to live theirs.

I know that in truth, many people would rather be offended, and expect the world to fully agree with and affirm their choices or preferences.  It would be much easier and nicer to live where we never felt like an outsider, or in any way different.  And I acknowledge that sometimes people really are being attacked for their differences, and that is wrong.  But not everything is an attack or a judgment.  Sometimes two people just see things differently, and agreeing to disagree is the only way to fully respect both parties, rather than asking one or both to play down who they are or what they believe.  As Caldwell writes in his May 22 reflection, "[T]he great challenge of our day is not to learn to live with watered-down versions of other faiths, but to live with them in all their fullness.  What could I possibly learn about Islam from a Muslim who's pretending not to be one?"

I'm sure that every time I speak to someone, either publicly or privately, my words could be interpreted as offensive by someone.  Increasingly people who do speak publicly are having to be more and more careful what they say, because someone somewhere is sure to be offended.  As a result, we are saying less and less.  We are not dialoguing with each other about anything important; we are monologuing at each other about nothing at all.  We are not learning from each other, because we're too afraid to say anything.  So we're all retreating to our own safe little enclaves of like-minded people and becoming more and more isolated from each other, and entrenched in our own positions and beliefs, and stagnant in our growth as people, and ignorant in our knowledge of the world.

Back in seminary I was asked to lead a devotional for the Wartburg Association of Students.  I'd found a poem inspired by a verse from John's Gospel, written about a hundred years ago.  The poem used masculine pronouns for God, which was contrary to Wartburg's gender-neutral language policy, but I didn't want to rewrite the poem in the name of political correctness.  So before I read the poem I explained the age of the piece, and that it did include these pronouns, and that I hoped everyone would be able to look past that and hear what the poem was saying.  As far as I could tell, everyone did, and it was clear that despite the presence of the pronouns that some in the room found offensive, by choosing not to be offended by them they were able to hear the beauty of the sentiment that the poet was trying to express.

We can do it.  Something else seminary taught (drilled into) me was this: it's not about you.  Next time you hear someone saying something you don't agree with, don't assume it's an attack or a judgment on you.  Instead, try to hear what they're saying, and understand what it means for them.  Don't demand that everyone else be inoffensive; work a little harder at not being so easily offended yourself.