the Outlook Blog

Reading a bit about Karl Barth and the situation in Germany, 1933, the term, "Confessing Church" tells a remarkable story of how some refused to erase the boundaries between church and state.

To read about the Confessing Church stirs my heart, and I wonder, "Would I have had the courage to stand, as Barth did, or would I have found ways to quietly compromise my status while telling myself that I was yet a man of integrity?"

The term, "Confessing Church" ought not to be ripped from its historical context in Germany, 1933, and co-opted to serve some smaller purpose.

Every time I read of the "Confessing Church" organization in the Presbyterian Church, my soul is shaken - that some would take virtually a holy-ground moment in time and claim it for their own to describe an in-house theological debate. Yes, a debate of genuine importance with long-lasting implications about the church and its life. But to call this group the "Confessing Church" is to misconstrue history.

The real Confessing Church stood its ground against the false gods of National Socialism. 

If there are any comparisons possible to the Confessing Church, it would be those who today protest the casual and careless mingling of church aims and national interests - the most current example of which is Glenn Beck and other lesser lights, who appeal to some of the very worst instincts in our national character.

Instincts found in every nation, and when times are troubled, such instincts rise to the surface, as they did in Germany after WW1, and by the time Hitler came along, he masterfully tapped into them and filled the cup of wrath that was poured out on Germany and the world. 

I respect my sisters and brothers on the issues, but I continue to regret their co-opting the title, "Confessing Church." 

As I read today's note in the LA Times about Jane Spahr to be tried by the PCUSA, I couldn't help but think of the text for this past Sunday, Luke 13:10-17, Jesus setting a woman free from 18 years of affliction, and doing so on the Sabbath, to make a point (he and the lady could have waited 24 hours) - healing is what the Sabbath is all about.

And then the synagogue leader weighs in - scolding folks, "Hey, we've got six days for work, and if you want healing, come on those days, but the Sabbath is for rest - keep it holy - no work!"

And that's when Jesus lays into the leader and his gang, "You hypocrites. You wouldn't treat an ox or donkey this way - you lead them to water on the Sabbath, so why deny the water of life to this woman on the Sabbath? What better day is there for revealing the love of God and the freedom therein?"

While Jesus stood on the intent of the law, the leader clung to the letter of the law. And according to the law, the leader was right and Jesus was wrong. 

So, here we go again, arguing about our laws.

And missing the point of the kingdom of God.

Jane Spahr is technically wrong, if that's the tact we wish to take. Jesus was wrong, too, and someone might have told him, "Wait 24 hours. Then do your healing. No one will be offended, the law will be maintained and everyone will be happy."

But Jesus didn't wait, because love and mercy and forgiveness and hope can't wait.

So ... we'll drag Jane into the mud of our own foolish little world of rules - rules that keep people bound - hungering and thirsting for a better day.

We wouldn't treat a dog this way.

But people?

Yeah, keep 'em tied up, and tie 'em up all the more with rules upon rules, until no one knows which way is up.

Sure, I am what I am - a supporter of marriage equality, comfortable with the biblical work done by Jack Rogers and others.  

And I've been called an apostate, a heretic and a servant of Satan.

No one has the final word, and I surely don't claim that, but with prayer and study, I've made my decision some years ago to no longer wait, and just to keep myself honest, I continue to study and think about these things.

But I write this note with a certain conviction, that Jane Spahr is pointing the way ahead, reminding us what the church and our faith is all about - setting people free. While the charges fly and the legal briefs are prepared, the PCUSA finds itself in the uncomfortable place of the synagogue leader.

That's how I see it these days.  

Thank God we live in a Republic rather than a Democracy ... a Republic in which elected and/or appointed officials are empowered to make decisions for us.

As in the case of fair housing in CA, early 60s, the courts determined that restrictive housing covenants were unconstitutional, despite the fact that 65% of California voters wanted to retain them in Prop 14.

I think, too, about Civil Rights and Women's Suffrage ... it was the leadership of the courts that helped us break free of the past and shed the chains of structural racism and discrimination. Yes, both yet exist in practice and attitude for many Americans, but without official approval. That's a huge step to take, and today in CA, another huge step was taken for civil right and Marriage Equality.

And it looks like the legal arguments are in place - whatever perspective some may personally hold on LGBT persons and practices, there can no longer be a constitutional prohibition on their marriage and the rights that pertain thereto.

For a detailed examination on why the proponents of Prop 8 feared a trial such as has just been concluded, check out the following article at HuffingtonPost. In a nutshell, the "legal arguments" against Marriage Equality simply do not stand up in an American Court of Law.

I have many friends who oppose Marriage Equality and ordination for practicing LGBT persons, and though I cannot agree with them, I cannot deny either their feelings or opinions.  Yet they are beginning to realize that moral and theological arguments against Marriage Equality cannot be translated into civil law.

As for me, I long for the day when I will be able to officiate at all weddings. That day is coming, I believe, and it will be a good day for all of us.  

American Christians have made much ado about "believing," which is just fine if there's adequate knowing. But in the last 50 years, large portions of American Christianity have settled for "believing" with lots of emotion, and even commitment, without the knowing (both progressives and conservatives have surrendered the depths and heights of the faith).

I'm inclined to think that believing is a good thing, but one can't always believe - sometimes we doubt, and sometimes darker moods prevail. 

But what can never be taken away, never waver is knowledge. Knowledge of the creeds and doctrines of the church. Of course, this isn't belief, but knowing well what scripture and tradition offer us is a genuine foundation, and if someone knows well what faith is all about, in terms of belief and behavior, the believing occurs, I think, more naturally. It no longer needs to be reinforced by hype and drama, but grows evenly and surely, if not surprisingly.

For pastors to be rabbis, above all else. Teachers!

And for congregations to pledge a new loyalty to learning - not always the most exciting thing, but let's not measure things by their excitement factor. 

If we could liberate our congregations - indeed, our American congregations, and youth groups and Sunday Schools, from their addiction to "entertainment" and "excitement" and "fun" and all the other bloated adjectives and adverbs we use these days and just be about "our Father's business," we'd do everyone a huge favor, and might, once again, become for our land "the salt of the earth and the light of the world."

All of this must be done, of course, without the harshness of dogma - but with the sweetness of Christ. 

For our congregations to become places of great learning, we need pastors and elders committed to great teaching - a renewed passion for discipleship, student-ship! To be covered in the dust of the The Rabbi!

Let's free our pastors from the hideous pressures of "building the numbers" and "seeing to the lawn" and forever "calling on Widow Brown." Let's recover the "teaching elder" dimension of our tradition so that our congregations will be repositories of good knowledge, that our pulpits will be sources of steady and, yes, even inspiring, knowledge of the texts, the traditions and the times! That our youth groups and our Sunday School classes will have serious dimensions of learning the faith - catechesis and reflection, to buttress the legitimate "fun and games" that children and youth deserve.

At first, visitors might well sample all of this, and turn away, seeking a much more intense version of the "fun and games" so peculiar to American Christianity, but I believe in God at this point, and God will save those whom God is saving, and we can rely upon God ... if only God can rely upon us!

That when a visitor should come our way, they will meet depth and height and width and breadth, the likes of which will intrigue their soul and invite further inquiry ... and who knows, one-by-one, "lost souls" will be given, by the Holy Spirit through out faithful and thoughtful witness, a vision of the Kingdom of God.

I have some friends, and mostly we see eye-to-eye on the issues of life.

But that hasn't always been the case.

I've had good friends who stood in a place quite different than I did. Most of those friendships were brief, but some have endured for years.

I've tried to think through what those enduring friendships have been like, and why they endured in spite of differing takes on things.

In some respects, we simply liked each other, and respected each other's integrity - that we worked at hard at what we believed, and we sought to live our lives faithfully in and through the love of Christ.

And while we might kid the daylights out of one another, our conversations were marked with a lot of listening and "I understand your point of view a little more clearly now."

I've learned that it's possible to understand someone's point of view and still not agree, but it's harder to vilify someone when you understand and respect them.

In terms of my friendships, understanding and respect came from a lot of early-morning breakfasts with ham and eggs and lots of coffee. "Okay, I'll see ya' again in two weeks." And looking back, humor played a huge roll as well - jokes and banter were as important as the ham and eggs.

In reality, I think such friendships are rare. Mostly, we hang around with those who stand in our corner. Makes sense. We like those who like what we like.

But Jesus reminds us that such friendship, or love, is no big deal. What's really a big deal is "loving our enemies."

I think Jesus chooses the word "enemy" to make something clear to us - that love can be far and beyond similarities and commonalities, and that such love is deeply ethical in how we view and treat one another.

I hold my convictions firmly - I guess that's what makes them convictions. But I've enjoyed the honest criticism of others who hold their convictions with equal firmness. But when we "love our enemy," we refuse to make the final move - that "I'm right and you're wrong." A friendship of differing views can endure when we bow before the mystery of God's grace and love - that we're both servants of the Most High God, both driven by honest and Spirit-impelled motives. Though our instincts want to bring closure to the argument, "You're wrong; I'm right!", we refuse to make that final move.

And with that, I've enjoyed some remarkable friendships over the years.

But can this be translated into an entire denomination where practices are at stake?

Where the question of ordination is on the table?

To be or not to be?

There are sane and reasonable voices who yet champion more conversation and better listening. 

And while that might make for interesting conversations over ham and eggs, it hardly helps us out of the impasse of practice - to ordain LGBT persons or not.

Yet others who say, "The time for listening is done. We have listened to one another, and we understand one another. We're just in different places."

My heart aches for my LGBT friends, and when someone (usually straight) suggests that we need more time, I usually think, "Well, that's easy for YOU to say."

I offer no answers here.

Anyone who has read my previous postings know that I'm short on answers for our current situation.

Local option?

Gracious separation?

While I might enjoy friendships with folks of other persuasions, and benefit from lively discussion, I'm still left, as they are, with the question of practice.

And that's the divide for the denomination.

As I see it. 

Writing this occasional blog is like jumping into a lake at midnight - one never knows whether the water is cold or warm - I never know who's going to read and who's going to comment.

Over the last few months, it's been fun to read what others have added - both pro and con.

I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read what's written and offer comment, even it represents a point of view diametrically different than mine.

People care, that's for sure.

I wish I had some answers.

Is there a way out of the pool? So we can dry off and relax ... and get better acquainted? Go have a drink somewhere and tell tall tales?

These are tough issues, and we have in our Christianized bones, especially our Reformation bones, the desire to prove one another wrong, and in so doing, even raising serious questions about one another's integrity.

I know. I've done i myselft, and I've been the target of it.

Last year, I read Calvin's Institutes - for the fourth time in my lifetime  (that, and five bucks gets me coffee at Starbucks)- fun to read how a 16th Century theologian went after his enemies: the Roman Catholic hierarchy and the Anabaptists - no names spared, no punches pulled. Flat-out fist-fight!

But in the end, while I tend to agree with Calvin on most points, it's clear - we can and we will all quote Scripture at one another forever, along with all the appropriate theological notes, and when the dust settles, we won't be one step ahead of the other, and no nearer agreement.

So it goes, I guess.

I stand with my LBGT sisters and brothers and their desire for ordination and marriage equality.

I trust a number of scholars who have done the biblical work on this, and I'm satisfied with my faith at this point in time.

As others are satisfied with theirs.

I guess we can keep on writing and talking, and praying - not for one another, because those sorts of prayers tend to be self-serving, but praying for ourselves, that we'll have clarity, the courage of our convictions and charity of heart toward one another.

Ecclesiologically, I'm ready for local option (G.6.106b removed) and local congregations and/or presbyteries making their own decisions, but in the long run, I think gracious separation might do us all good. Local option would only deepen the confusion and the likelihood of the tug-of-war continuing.

When it comes to ordination, a group, a fellowship, a denomination, needs uniformity, I believe, so that those ordained can move freely from church to church and Presbytery to Presbytery.

Though the UCC seems to have worked out local option with some success (can anyone comment on this?). 

Well, enough meandering for now.

Maybe other readers will choose to weigh in with their thoughts.

In advance, thanks! And keep up the good work!

According to The Layman, I am everything that's wrong with the Presbyterian Church. My theology is apostate, my ethics are hideous; apparently, I have given up on Jesus Christ years ago, I have abandoned Scripture, thrown out the baby with the bathwater, and I am leading the church down the road to perdition.

Strange.

I got up this morning, brushed my teeth and shaved. I read a book and read my Bible. I worked on the July 4 message and will prepare the liturgy later today, a day late, because I've been home with a nasty cold - no doubt, some form of punishment for my wicked ways.

I love my children and they love me.

I love my wife, and she puts up with me, and that's miracle enough for any day.

I have friends, new and old, and I constantly receive notes from folks, via Facebook and the mail, thanking me for my ministry - a very humbling thing, of course, because any minister worth her salt realizes that it's grace, and grace alone, that enables us to touch a person's life with hope.

But I'm the enemy, according to The Layman, and I'm responsible for the decline of the Presbyterian Church the last 50 years.

When I think about it, that's a pretty serious charge, and I've given it some thought. I've granted to The Layman over the years the benefit of the doubt, and I've tried to listen to their concerns.

From my point of view, there's enough blame to go around, and who can blame anyone for the vast cultural changes affecting our world.

I don't think it's a question of blame?

I think it's a question of opportunity. Look, things have always been in flux, and there have been times of social prosperity for the church (history makes painfully clear that social prosperity doesn't always equate faithfulness) and times of displacement. So, what's the big deal?

Didn't Paul counsel Timothy to preach the gospel, in season and out of season? I think if we spent far less time blaming the other guy and simply did our best, as God has laid it upon our hearts, we'd be a far healthier voice to the world.

Oops, I forgot. We'd still have to make justice decisions, wouldn't we? Especially with regard to our LGBT sisters and brothers, and corporate greed and investment policies and militarism and war and poverty and education. As long as some want to keep the door closed to LGBT persons, I work to get it open, all the way. 

Anyway, I'm trying to figure out what "an enemy" looks and feels like. 

I feel pretty friendly this morning. And aside from a little weight I'd be happy to lose, I look pretty good, too.

So, I don't know what "the enemy" feels and looks like. Guess I'll have to read The Layman a little bit more. 

It's been awhile since I've blogged ... been busy, preoccupied with a son heading off the Peace Corps and generally uninspired with all things Presbyterian ... until today, and the latest (GA) issue of the Presbyterian Layman.

The one good thing about the Layman is it never disappoints! Never!

But, then, maybe I don't either.

They are what they are, predictably,  and I suppose I'm just as predictable.

Though there was a time when I was a bit more sympathetic with their theological interests.

But I've softened over the years. Some might say that I've gone soft in the head.

Whatever ... though I'm very glad to be where I am these days.

As I read the latest Layman, I heard a desperation I've not heard before, but maybe it's just my imagination.

I think this GA is seen as a Waterloo of sorts - it happens here, and it happens now - in the mind of the Layman, the church will either turn toward faithfulness or finalize its march into apostasy, as defined by the Layman.

Who knows what this year's GA will be like, but I hope for more open doors and windows, theologically and ethically. 

I guess one person's faithfulness is another's apostasy. Go figure ...! 

With the stats in, and so-called "conservative" churches experiencing either a shrinking or a slowing of numbers, the old saw of the last 40 years no longer holds up so conclusively: that liberal churches are declining and conservative churches growing.

Even in the best of times, this claim never had much substance, but was surely used by conservatives to batter their liberal sisters and brothers, becoming a source of pride, even as they danced over the grave of denominationalism. And was, at the same time, an occasion for denominational types to wring their hands in embarrassment and begin backbiting and blaming. 

The latest Christianity Today (June, 2010) carries a fascinating article, "Life in Those Old Bones," reminding us that denominationalism is very much a human dynamic, because we like to hang together, so to speak, and that denominationalism offers resources and strength for mission.

Even for "independent" churches, the need to cooperate and work together is evident in something like the Willow Creek Association, with more than 11,000 member churches in 35 countries and 90 denominations. Functioning much as a denomination, the WCA offers support, curriculum, training and mission opportunities.

Ed Stetzer says: "... denomination-like networks will, I believe, become more like denominations than networks in the years to come, just like the networks of the past (e.g. Methodists) are denominations today."

While writing from a conservative perspective, Stetzer notes the ability of denominations to weather storms and guide troubled congregations. Independent congregations can easily fall apart in tough times; the American landscape is littered with the debris of independent congregations that foundered on theological issues or the failure of leadership.

Paraphrasing Winston Churchill, Stetzer notes: "Denominations are the worst way to cooperate - except for all the others."

"Denominations at their best are not places to get something but places to give and to serve."

With regard to missionaries, Stetzer notes: denominationally funded missionaries are able to spend the bulk of their time in mission, while those who need to raise their own funds are driven to spend less time in the field and more time raising funds.

A healthy denomination, says Stetzer, is "a home, not a prison."

Who can say what the future holds, but God's people always migrate toward one another in various forms and fashions to do a better job in mission. We are called to love one another, and that's never an affective word, but an ethical word - to love is stand with one another for a purpose greater than ourselves.

I love the Presbyterian Church - the church of my ordination - given to me by women and men who trusted me, believing that I would handle with care the legacy bestowed.

I haven't always been as clear as I am now. There was a time when I saw our failures and our faults too clearly. While those faults and failures remain, as they do with all of us, I see more clearly today the goodness and the joy of community within which we live and enjoy and sometimes despair over our diversity.

For me, I'm grateful for Louisville and our systems. We get a lot done. We're on the spot when it comes to crises like Haiti's earthquake. We still plant churches, we train pastors, and we're working overtime to figure out the times in which we live.

Hats off to my Presbyterian sisters and brothers. God will continue to give us a future, because being together is still God's way.