Bland

Recently, I picked up a book by Sara Miles entitled “Take This Bread” in hopes that it would be the sort of book I could recommend to people who are secretly struggling with the problems of faith.

Her tack is peculiar in that faith for her came about as a consequence of the idea of communion. She had been raised as a generous atheist but through a series of events found herself in an Episcopal church in San Francisco and it was here that she ran into the idea of communion as partaking in the “real presence” of the body and blood of Christ. So it was the fleshy part of communion–the drinking of blood and eating of body–that drew Miles into the church.  Yet, not only did it draw her into the church, it confirmed her vision of the world, for she had always believed that food and its vast socio-political apparatus was part of the dark heart of human civilization. In communion she saw God feeding people and that provided the kind of deity she was comfortable enough to believe in.

This path into the church is interesting but it only exists substantially  in about 10 pages of the book while the rest is a journalistic account of her life over the past 20 years.  It is a life full of all the elements that make a great story: girl grows up, girl goes to Mexico, girl sees people die of hunger and political mayhem, girl meets guy, girl marries guy and moves back to US, girl and guy have house & kid, girl divorces guy so guy can marry other guy, girl marries other girl, girls raise kid together, girl meets God, girl works at soup kitchen, girl finds out that not all Christians are nice people, girl realizes that all people need love, girl writes book.

The issue I have with the book is that Miles seems to have forgotten that when writing a memoir (spiritual or otherwise) the telling of the story is more important than the story itself, for it reads like a therapy journal rather than a creative venture.  In my opinion, Miles has gotten caught up in the fact that all of this is her life and therefore of enormous importance to her but it’s never clear why it should be important to anybody else.

Thus I’m left asking myself, why did she write a book? Why leave this chronicle to posterity? Why think that a grocery list of individual experiences is so striking that people will want to read about it twenty years from now? Why not just write an essay about the power of communion and leave the individual details to a private diary (or a blog!)?

To answer my own question, I think it’s because we all still seek immortality but in a world of materialism we unconsciously recognize that it is only possible through the production of a material representation of “us”.

I guess the other option is that there’s more money in hardcover books than diaries.  But that seems so cynical.

Other Lutherans

Check out this video about all the famous Lutherans. Even has a catchy tune from the band Lost and Found.

Brings a little tear to my eye every time.

A Rewarding Moment

In case you didn’t know, the Urbana Ministry Team was recently selected by the DE/MD Synod to receive an award for Excellence in Ministry. John Bush and Roger Randall, the past and current chairs of the UMT, both attended the awards banquet along with pastors and members of ELC’s church council. It was a grand time.

Fortunately for everyone involved, we have a picture of their moment in the sun.

From left to right: Happy John, Sleepy Bishop, Menacing Roger.

We love you guys!

ministry banquet

Some Pictures of Oasis in Urbana

Thanks to John Weiser for some pictures of the insanity of last night’s Oasis class at Foster’s Grille in Urbana. We had 18 people show up for the loudest and fastest and craziest bible study I’ve ever been a part of.

It was cool!

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oasis urbana 1

An Easter Tirade (Just What Everyone Wants to Read!)

Easter, that yearly time of joy as modern Christians celebrate the new life of Jesus Christ.

Easter, that yearly time of conflict as the skeptical moderns reassert their efforts to bury the new life of Jesus Christ in rational doubt.

This is the modern ritual of Easter.

The latest iteration of this piece of conflict comes from the pen of Geza Vermes, a fairly well-respected biblical scholar and conveyor of such ideas to the broader public. His recent book on the resurrection (available here) of Jesus is the usual evaluation of all the ancient biblical testimonies and the traditions of the church…and he makes the usual conclusion that the resurrection is not a historical event at all. Now this aspect of his argument isn’t all that exciting or even bothersome. Defining the resurrection as a historical event such as the signing of the Declaration of Independence has never really been fully argued of late. Most people recognize that the resurrection is necessarily a breach of history for it demands that Jesus no longer be bound by time and/or space. It is an event that is bigger and more powerful than history can contain.

But this isn’t what Vermes is trying to argue. What he suggests is that the resurrection is not only not a historical event, but that it is nothing but a psychological event. For Vermes, the resurrection is a conscious psychological solution to the shattering event of Jesus’ execution. Jesus didn’t rise, there was no empty tomb, there were no sightings of Jesus. These were fictions created by the early Christians; they were the literary expression of the emotional experience of Jesus continuing presence in their memories.

Vermes is convinced that this is what will appeal to the rationalism of modern skeptics.

To me, though, this is the most irrational argument Vermes could have constructed. It suggests that early Christians didn’t really believe in the resurrection except as a psychological event, which means that they knew it was “false” all along but sold it as something “true”. Now, of course, Vermes thinks he’s discovered the “truth” of the resurrection by discarding all the “false” claims of the early Christians.

Not only is this irrational, it’s anachronistic. It feels stale and old. It’s the same tired argument that our current experience is more valid than the experience of our predecessors. It’s been made for centuries…and is what I politely call…hogwash. For whether we agree with the ancient Christians or not, we can’t simply assume they were all just spin-doctors. We don’t have to build our thinking on the arrogance that our experience is more valid than that of previous generations. Even the well-rounded atheist avoids such thoughtlessness.

Wouldn’t it be wiser—and more contemporary, more post-modern—to assume that the claims made by our predecessors were believed by them to be true? Isn’t it more healthy to trust that they were genuine in their perspective and that–relatively speaking–it is just as valid as our own? Shouldn’t we trust that they really believed the things they wrote? It doesn’t mean we can’t disagree with their perspective, it just means we can’t call them liars because we’ve become so enlightened through our modern reason.

This would require, though, that we construct some kind of competing perspective, some useful interpretation of the resurrection to which we could commit our hearts, minds, and lives. Of course this is precisely the problem for people like Vermes and the rest of the modern skeptics. They would rather believe nothing and have no accountability than commit to something that would force them to live a life of faith. Hence the perpetual enticement of nihilism in the minds of intellectual people.

I think we all know, though, that nihilism produces no offspring.

So as a community of Christians in a modern world that makes all of us prone to the laziness of disbelief, let us continually be challenged to find the courage to believe…for I am convinced that faith alone (sola fidei) will empower us to enliven our ever-decaying societies.

Tirade over.

Lager for Lent

Well, Easter is only a few days away and that means we turn the corner of winter, we pass through the darkest of times in the life of our Lord, and we leave behind our Lenten disciplines.

It’s somewhat difficult this year to say goodbye to what was a very enjoyable Lenten “discipline” on Friday nights at J & P Pizza. Every week I looked forward to our gathering.

If you didn’t make it to the event, you can vicariously participate by viewing the photos below and reading the inspiring quotations that were handed out each week. Be assured that there will be further opportunities in the future to mix beer and faith.

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 Week #1:  “The selling of bad beer is a crime against Christian love” -Law from the city of Augsburg, 13th C.

Week #2:  “Whoever drinks beer, he is quick to sleep; whoever sleeps long, does not sin; whoever does not sin, enters Heaven! Thus, let us drink beer!” -Martin Luther

Week #3: “cold amber liquid/recharges my weary soul/like breaths of fresh air”  - BeerHaikuDaily.com

Week #4: “God does not forbid you to drink…but do not make a pig of yourself; remain a human being.”  -Martin Luther

Week #5: “…the Word is the principal part of baptism.  If in an emergency there’s no water at hand, it doesn’t matter whether water or beer is used.”  -Martin Luther

Week #6:  “We old folks have to find our cushions and pillows in our tankards.  Strong beer is the milk of the old.”  -Martin Luther

 

 

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lager1

“There Will Be Blood” - A Message for a Mission Church

About ten days ago I finally got to see the other major Oscar movie of 2007–the first one being No Country for Old Men which I commented on a month ago.

There Will Be Blood is a fascinating movie about an early 20th Century oil magnate. While there are a number of overt and hidden themes concerning the issue of oil and what Americans have been willing to do to acquire it, what struck me about the movie was the relationship that the main character, Daniel Plainview, had with the local Christian congregation.

The centerpiece of the movie, in fact it is the scene played during the Oscars, takes place in this little country church in the wasteland of the California desert. Here, Daniel Plainview converts to Christianity in high drama, confessing that he has abandoned his son, getting physically slapped by the minister, being drenched in the waters of baptism, and then rising to be greeted and hugged by the congregation. But in the middle of this scene, in a whisper after his confession, he says, “pipeline.” And we can’t help but remember that he agreed to join the church for the purpose of appeasing the one man whose property he needs to build a pipeline to pump all his oil out to consumers. What is shocking and bothersome about this whole scene is that the church, especially its pastor, knows Plainview’s motivation but pushes ahead with the rituals nonetheless…for Plainview has agreed to give not only a confession, but also $5000 to the church in exchange for the pipeline.

There is no doubt that the little church needed financial resources as well as a high profile convert, indeed, these things made it grow more quickly. The only problem is that they eventually came at a great cost, for the final scene of the movie is probably the most volatile barrage of insults and violence that I’ve ever seen. It is also the only scene where blood is shed…and that blood is the blood of the church.

What I think all of this intends to communicate is not so different from what James says in chapter two of his New Testament letter: “Listen, my beloved brothers and sisters. Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him? But you have dishonored the poor. Is it not the rich who oppress you? Is it not they who drag you into court? Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you?”

* * *

It’s interesting to me that Hollywood has a surprisingly acute talent with leveling these kinds of criticisms, but offers little advice on what we ought to do about it. In my mind this is one of the major failings of contemporary culture: it is all conscientious deconstruction that subconsciously depends on the construction it seeks to tear down. What I’m convinced we as people of faith have to do in this zeitgeist of deconstruction is to continue to construct meaning, virtue, and belief. For it is only a consistent commitment and proclamation of these things that allow us to argue for what ought to happen. And what ought to have happened in this movie is that the pastor and the church should have chosen to have a more sophisticated love of neighbor than simply to use them for financial gain. And what ought to happen in our congregation and all those who consider them Christian, is that love should dig deeper than oil.

Urbana Women’s Ministry - Hey a photo!

Women’s Ministry 2008

Growing in God’s Welcoming Grace

On Saturday, January 12th, a group of worshipers from the Urbana campus of Evangelical Lutheran met at the Hallowood Retreat Center near Sugarloaf Mountain for a time of development of a vision of ministry for the Urbana campus.  After much dialogue, prayer, and biblical study we were able to craft a centering statement…a phrase that captures who we are and what we are doing in Southern Frederick County.

The centering statement that we created is this:  Growing in God’s Welcoming Grace. 

Simple as it is, it is a phrase heavy with meaning and so my hope is to capture some of the spirit behind the statement by describing it in some detail.  I’ll start at the beginning.

Growing:  One of the key thoughts about ministry that came out of our biblical study is that ministry is always a thing in process.  It’s never done:  people never fully arrive in their understanding of God, are never complete in their connection with Jesus Christ, the head of the church.  Growth is therefore a word that captures fallibility, need, a desire to continually be changed by the message of Jesus Christ. 

But growth is also a word that captures the idea of mission.  When we speak of growth, we speak primarily of the growth of the gospel—that message of God’s gift of forgiveness and freedom. We are convinced that the work of our campus is to live and preach this Gospel in such a way that it will change the small corner of the world that we live and worship in.

So we come (although out of order) to the words…

God’s Grace:  All Christians talk of the Gospel of Jesus Christ but we all look at it and nuance it just a bit differently.  What we at ELC Urbana find to be the core of our understanding of the Gospel is that it is essentially a message of grace.  And what we mean by grace is that God has done something for us through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ—God has claimed us through water and Word, has forgiven us, has set us free from all kinds of oppression, has inspired us to give this to the world through the Holy Spirit. 

This is the message that we share and also the message that we as individuals and as a community are growing into.

Next is the word…

Welcoming:  This is a particularly powerful word for us because it does two things.  First, it captures the idea that the message of grace is one that is available to everyone.  Period.  All our human distinctions between people collapse in the face of God’s Welcoming Grace.  Second, it ties us to the Frederick campus where the word Welcome is used as an acrostic for capturing the vision of ministry—We at Evangelical Lutheran Church are One in our Mission to Evangelize.  In many ways the Urbana campus is the living out of Frederick’s vision for ministry and so the word ‘welcome’ is buried deep in our identity as a community of faith.

One final piece of our centering statement that must be included is that it closely reflects the vision statement for our larger church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.  That statement is:  Living in God’s Amazing Grace.
Our centering statement follows the same grammatical pattern but places emphasis on growth and outreach.  In many ways this serves as a good illustration for our place in the ELCA, for we have taken the rich tradition of our church and are pushing it out into the world in order to change the lives of people in need of that powerful grace.

Growing in God’s Welcoming Grace

This is who we are, who we hope to be; what we share, and what we hope to share…in order to change our world.

No Country for Old Men

If you get the opportunity to see the Coen brothers’ new film No Country for Old Men, take it.

I can’t say that it’s is a good date movie or something you might snuggle up to with a tasty cup of hot cocoa–it’s actually rather bleak. But within its story lies a particular set of answers to many of the basic questions of humankind, one of which is that of fate. Since Christianity has long flirted with fate in the form of predestination, No Country offers an interesting place to sort through the idea from a religious perspective.

From at least the time of Saint Augustine in the 4th Century, Christian fatalism has congealed around the idea that God knows the beginning from the end. In its larger, uglier form, certain brands of Christianity have suggested that because of this, Christians also have to believe that God has intentionally lined-up everything in human history–and our individual lives–to meet a purpose that is unknown to us. We are, therefore, like the actors in a soap opera who read and enact scripts but have no control over what is to come.

While this has continually caused problems, the idea continues to stick in our minds. I think we cling to fate as a way of recognizing that we don’t control everything about our lives. It gives us something or someone to trust or blame for our unpredictable circumstances. Even so, I think fate is an idea worth discarding, especially as Christians…and I think No Country helps us see how to do this.

No Country is a modern tragedy that captures the same themes as the great tragedies of Greek and Romantic writers. Cormac McCarthy, the writer of the book on which the film is based, is well-known for this characteristic of his stories and he tends to use violence as the mechanism that drives the tragic action. So in No Country Fate comes as an assassin who whimsically discards some of the people he confronts but leaves others and Fate is always in pursuit of young Llewelyn who has made a very poor set of decisions. All the while, the burned-out sheriff who is trying to sort through the trail of violence only gets the opportunity to watch the scene unfold. By the end of the movie, all seems hopeless and unredeemed: the sheriff clings only to a dream of peace while everyone else is dead.

So where is the redemptive aspect of the story? How is it able to overthrow the idea of fate?

I think the key lies in the fact that redemption is an option in the story, even though it is not fulfilled. At a number of points, Llewelyn is given the chance to repent, he just never takes it. His infatuation with the money he found overwhelms his better reason and leads him down the path of violence that senselessly ends in the midst of one final decision that is made out of lust rather than care. So the redemptive image in the film comes at the very scene of Llewelyn death, for we find that Fate does not kill Llewelyn …Llewelyn’s death comes in the midst of circumstances that he had a definitive hand in creating. His death is not suicide but it is not necessary either–we get the profound message that it didn’t have to happen. But we also get the sense that it should have happened. We can’t forget that he’s been given the chance to repent–at one point to save himself and at another to save his wife–but he didn’t take it. He gambled and everyone lost.  Thus while redemption is not realized, it is a real possibility.

It is this idea that redemption is possible that empowers Christianity.

As Christians we believe that sin profoundly corrupts our judgment, confuses our reason, and especially when it is combined with the sins of other people, it can create unthinkable messes that are often so complex we can’t help but call them Fate. Yet even in the midst of our hopeless mess, we are offered the opportunity of redemption through Jesus Christ. We don’t have to take it, faith is not forced upon us, there is always an opportunity to reject it…but it is always an opportunity. And because this opportunity is constantly available through Word and Sacrament, there can be no such thing as fate.