It's All Racism

I value diversity, in all forms. Difference keeps life interesting; we are created as unique and distinct individuals who see the world differently. I celebrate that.

I celebrate it ... up to a point. And I get to decide where to draw the line between a perspective that is worthy of my respect and a perspective for which I cannot muster any. Celebrating diversity of opinion does not imply that all perspectives are equally valid. There's a line.

Racism crosses that line. A racist perspective is not worthy of my respect. Racism is sin. Racism is evil. Racism is "antithetical to the gospel itself." Racism is the only issue; every issue is racism.

Over the past three or four years in our nation, latent racism has been revealed, embraced, and mainstreamed. Overtly racist statements are made openly, in public, and without shame. And when challenged, the statements are defended with malice, malevolence, and bitter defensiveness.

For the record let me say this: Telling people of color to go back where they came from is racist. (Though why I should have to make that clear boggles my mind.)

Now, I have no desire to comment here on the president's character; I believe that his own words and actions have revealed more about his character than my thoughts ever could. Maya Angelou said it best when she said, "When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time." Our president has shown all us exactly who he is, and I believe him.

At first the overt racism was sporadic; it seemed a sideshow or some kind of alternate reality that would soon pass. When it did not, there was indignation and anger, resolve to resist and persist. And then when it continued, we thought it was a distraction from deeper more insidious things, intentionally orchestrated to divert our attention. I no longer consider it a distraction.

The malevolent racist spirit that corrodes our nation is not a distraction from other more destructive activity happening behind the scenes. In fact the very fact that I once considered it to be a distraction is ample proof of just how insidious and evil this malevolence is. The malevolent racist spirit is the only thing that matters; everything else begins there.

As I wrote previously, "And so as disciples of Jesus, as Christians, as people who desire to live as God intends us to live, we have to confront the malevolent spirit permeating our world. We have name it, draw it up to the light, and annihilate it. And then we have to offer an alternative way of being, a replacement for the malevolence that will solidify its destruction once and for all.

That alternative way is called 'love,' by the way. Love, and everything that comes along with it. Things like hope. And forgiveness. And justice, and peace, and grace, and compassion."

I'm still here. And although it feels sometimes like the malevolence is indestructible, we must not allow ourselves to fall into "weak resignation to the evils we deplore." May God "grant us wisdom, grant us courage, serving the One whom we adore." Amen and amen.

Post Mortem for the Via Media

The Via Media is dead.

The post-mortem of the Middle Way includes such examinations as General Conference 2019, 21^st century politics, seminary recruitment plans, and Christian evangelism.

At General Conference 2019 a via media was offered by marriage equality advocates and a few who favor traditional marriage. It was strongly rejected by just over half of the delegates.

In 21^st century politics, a via media platform would never get enough support from a party’s base to be nominated in the first place, and so the candidates presented for election tend to represent extremes.

In seminary recruitment, rigorous theological debate among a variety of diverse viewpoints has been replaced by ideologically driven “orthodoxy” training, which has become a primary consideration for potential students.

In terms of evangelism, individual Christians are drifting toward congregations that are more uniformly aligned with their own theology rather than doing the hard and uncomfortable work of living together with diverse perspectives.

(Yes, these are generalities; Yes, I am aware of their limitations.)

I am a “via media liberal.” I have “mediated” my sermons here at Campbell for the sake of honoring the middle way. In doing so, I hear from liberals in the congregation disappointed that I have not been more forthright. When I am more forthright about my personal perspective, I hear from conservatives in the congregation disappointed that I have been too political. Both liberals and conservatives have left Campbell in the past few months to connect with congregations to which they feel more aligned theologically. More via media post-mortem examination.

And so it goes. (I hear similar stories from “via media conservative” colleagues, by the way.)

And still I continue to believe that the middle way is the best way. I continue to believe that we need each other. As much as I value my personal relationship with Jesus, as highly as I regard my perspective of who he is and who he wants me to be, I know that my glimpse is only one small glimpse of the infinite entirety of Christ. I know that I need other glimpses, connected together with mine, in order to get a fuller picture of who God is.

We need each other. And so…

We need the via media.

Yet the via media is dead.

Is it dead for a season? Is it winter for the middle way, with a spring somewhere on the horizon? Has the via media been crucified, meaning resurrection is just around the corner?

And if so, what do we do? What can we do?

And on a personal level, what do I do? Shall I veer left theologically, mediating less and being stronger with my own personal perspective? Would that be selling out, capitulating to prevailing winds of the day? Or shall I continue to advocate for compromise, diversity of thought, and the middle way? Would that just be an exhausting, fruitless tilting at windmills that would do nothing but wear me out spiritually?

As of now, I remain committed to the middle way. I value diversity. I enjoy hearing different perspectives, when they are offered with generosity and civility. It just seems like it is harder and harder to walk the via media in this season. More and more people seem to be seeking like-mindedness instead of engaging the difficult, vulnerable, and risky search for truth together.

Maybe it’s that Saturday in between Good Friday and Easter for the middle way, and all we can do is sit by the tomb, in silent vigil, grief stricken, not knowing, not understanding. Wondering what comes next.

Hoping for Easter.

A National Trigger

The incident at the Lincoln Memorial over the weekend was a national trigger.

What we saw in the widely circulated videos depended on what we were looking for. I have very little interest in conflicting opinions currently being shared about “what really happened.” I have little interest in berating “the media” for bias or decrying viral videos shared on social media. The interactions among three very diverse groups of Americans triggered us, and I have a lot of interest in that.

The malevolent spirit at work in our nation lurks just under the surface, and it doesn’t take very much at all to unleash it. And this surreal malevolence doesn’t care about “what really happened” or the current realities of how we consume our information. The only thing on the agenda for this spirit is to keep us all mad at each other. And this week we got triggered.

This weekend, the malevolent spirit got exactly what it wanted.

By and large our leaders have also succumbed to its influence. At the federal and state level (at least) our elected and appointed leaders seem to do nothing to alleviate our anxiety. Caught up in the bizarre malevolence themselves, they seem to be helpless against its power. Instead of defusing, they add fuel. Instead of compromising, they double down. Instead of seeking common good, they seek reelection.

I have written about this phenomenon before, of course. And yet I am stymied. I continue to believe that the only force at work in the world capable of overcoming this malevolence is love. As I said back in September, “resisting the surreal malevolence at work in the world requires us to announce, advocate for, and embody true love.”

By "true love," I mean “a deep, bold love that is brutal in its honesty and equally brutal in its graciousness. A love that insists on authenticity and vulnerability. A love that is at the same time both pliable and unyielding. A love that is at the same time naked and wearing the full armor of God. A love that is the paradox of the deepest pain and the most ecstatic joy.”

Three diverse groups of people interacted in front of the Lincoln Memorial last weekend, and we were all triggered. As Lincoln gazed on, I wonder what he would have said, how he would have responded. Perhaps with something like…

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”

Diversity Without Division

The United Methodist Church is not divided, it is diverse.

This distinction is crucial to understand in these weeks leading up to February's General Conference session. The practice of ministry looks very different from one region to another, from one town to another, even from one congregation to another in the same town, and even within one congregation!

And in this diversity of ministry, we are still the United Methodist Church. I am not sure when "diversity" became a bad thing, but among many it seems to be so. We are a beautifully, frustratingly diverse church; some people celebrate that and others dig in their heels against it.

Among the things we do very differently across the denomination are some practices that comprise the very heart of Christian discipleship: worship, Holy Communion, mission and service work, small group processes. Our buildings are diverse, our staffing structures are diverse, our administrative processes are diverse. We are a diverse denomination. (Or, as I have said before, we are a "holy mess.")

So, let me get to my point. In the United Methodist Church today, there are pastors who officiate at same-sex weddings, congregations that host same-sex weddings, and ordained clergy who are gay and out. And in the United Methodist Church there are pastors who will not officiate at same-sex weddings, congregations that refuse to host them, and conferences and bishops who would never ordain a person if they are gay and out.

That's the reality. That's what is happening now. And some look at that reality and see "division" whereas some see "diversity."

In addition, there are already a processes in place in our denomination to respond to all of that. We have processes by which we seek a "just resolution" to conflict. Paragraph 362 of our Book of Discipline says, "This review shall have as its primary purpose a just resolution of any violations of this sacred trust, in the hope that God’s work of justice, reconciliation and healing may be realized in the body of Christ."

The just resolution process allows for dialogue and relies on relationship. It means that one case may look very different from another, and be resolved in a very different way. And while that frustrates some, I would much rather have a flexible system that can be contextualized easily than a rigid system of automatic responses that we try to apply to every case everywhere, for all time.

Beyond that, there are already processes in place by which an individual member, a pastor, or a congregation can exit the denomination. There are connectional, structural, and financial implications in those processes, of course, and relationships that need healing and restoration as a result. Nevertheless we already have these processes in place. Those processes are utilized every year, as people and congregations decide to not be United Methodist any more.

We are "Methodists;" we have methods for doing everything we do!

My point is saying this is simply this. In practice, not a lot is going to change after this upcoming General Conference, no matter what happens there.

Pastors will continue to marry same-sex couples - the question is are we going to change our denominational policy to formally allow it.

People who are gay will continue to be ordained - the question is are we going to change our denominational policy to formally allow it.

For some, the answers to these questions will be a hard NO. For the "hard no" people on the right, it is a matter of Biblical obedience. But there are "hard no" people on the left as well, for whom just "allowing" it is not enough; it is a matter of Biblical justice and therefore our denominational policy needs to "mandate" it. This reflects the polarization in which we live these days.

If I may offer an unpopular opinion - the far right (and maybe the far left as well) will leave the United Methodist Church no matter what happens next February. And then in 2020 at the next General Conference we'll address the new reality and look toward the future.

And listen Linda, if we think the decision made at General Conference 2019 is going to "fix" the church once and for all, we are naive and short-sighted. There is no one easy way to "fix" our brokenness; salvation is a life-long endeavor.

But one thing we can do toward that end is to understand the distinction between divided and diverse, and to reclaim diversity as a healthy, beautiful characteristic of the church.

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CLICK HERE to see my sermon about the Trinity in which I explore the idea of diversity without division and unity without uniformity.

Is Diversity Still a Strength?

In the past month, I have heard both from a family who is leaving the congregation because it is too conservative for them and also from a family who is leaving because it is too progressive for them.

Now obviously, as I spoke with each one they shared more; their reasons are more nuanced and complex than that. There is always more to the story. But that’s the nutshell version: for one it is “too conservative” and for the other it is “too progressive.”

For nine and a half years, I have been preaching a consistent message: Love can overcome different perspectives. Diversity is a strength. The conversation matters. “Though we do not think alike, may we not love alike?” as John Wesley said.

I believed that the church was made up of people who see the world differently, people whose politics and theology are labelled either “conservative” or “progressive” or some other such label, and yet who could embrace our variety of perspectives together as we focused on the mission and ministry of the church, and could do so with abiding love for one another.

But the two conversations I mentioned above have given me pause to wonder if that is true anymore, and to ask myself some existential questions. Here are a few…

Question 1 - Has something fundamentally shifted in our world that makes it simply impossible to be in relationship with (much less have a conversation with) someone who sees the world very differently from one’s self? We all know the cliché about knowing what people with whom to avoid discussing politics. It has become a meme, but it really isn’t funny. Why can we not even talk with each other anymore?

Question 2 - Does the “malevolent spirit” currently unleashed upon us have more power over us than the power of God’s love? I do not believe that in my heart of hearts, but from the way we are acting these days, it seems that it may. Or rather, it seems that we have allowed it to.

Question 3 - Is it time for a season of being intentionally apart from one another? Should we just seek out like-minded people and commiserate for a little while, take comfort in similarity, breathe deeply without fear of conflict or attack, without the anxiety of defensiveness, and simply renew our souls? And plan for some point in the future in which the atmosphere might be sufficiently healed that we can come together again?

I am very progressive – theologically, socially, and politically. And yet I have made every effort to temper my own bias, knowing that I am preacher in a diverse congregation. Obviously my bias is revealed every so often; how could it not be? It is who I am. It’s just that I take very seriously the Biblical admonition to avoid being a stumbling block for others who are seeking God. And if my progressive perspective is a stumbling block for anyone’s relationship with God, it breaks my heart. Every time. But that begs another existential question…

Question 4 - Has my tempering of my bias become in and of itself a stumbling block for others? Here I am thinking of the family who told me the congregation is “too conservative” for them. And moreover, here I am thinking of the many, many people who have rejected church as an option in their spiritual lives because they assume that being socially, theologically, and politically conservative is the only choice for a follower of Jesus. This is of course an incorrect assumption, but am I exacerbating it by trying to moderate my progressiveness?

Please forgive my processing these questions “out loud,” so to speak. This is a highly narcissistic post, I know. I’ve been pretty transparent here about some real internal struggles I’m feeling right now, and I understand the risk that entails. But I know that I am surrounded by gracious, loving people who are a continual source of encouragement and support for me, and I’ll just throw myself on your grace and understanding at this point.

And at the same time, I get the feeling I’m not the only pastor struggling with these kinds of questions. There are enough of us, in fact, that the Missouri Conference of the United Methodist Church put together an excellent webinar series on the topic, called “Pastoring in Partisan Times.” (You can watch the recordings here.)

One of the most helpful ideas that came out of that webinar series for me came from Dr. Leah Gunning-Francis, who said, “I know that we are looking for ways to try to appease and make people feel comfortable, but the truth of the matter is it is impossible to do that in light of the gospel.” I get that. In fact that really pokes at the dead center of my existential struggle. How do I hold “making people comfortable” and “not being a stumbling block” in tension and still be an effective preacher of the Gospel of Jesus Christ?

So that’s where I am at the moment. I’ve been here nine and half years, preaching the same message (diverse perspectives are a strength), and now have had two very faithful families from opposite ends of the spectrum tell me they are not going to be a part of the congregation anymore, because it is not closely enough aligned with their own perspective. It has shaken me, and left me wondering if diversity actually is a strength anymore.

And now I’m just trying to figure out what to do with that.


UPDATE (1/4): I would like to add that the people who left are people whom I love dearly and whom I consider to be very good friends. Which makes the whole thing all the more befuddling and heartbreaking.

Freedom, Humor, and Violence: The Charlie Hebdo Mixture

Until now, I haven’t written anything about the Charlie Hebdo attack. Nor did I address it specifically in Sunday’s sermon. (Though I did say, “If it is not loving, it doesn’t come from God,” so that pretty much covers it, I suppose.)

I haven’t really said anything yet because, frankly, I’m having a hard time processing it. For many people, it is simple. Freedom of expression was attacked, and those attackers are evil because, beyond the senseless killing of 17 people, they were attacking one of the core principles of a free democratic society.

To be clear, I abhor violence. Nothing I write here should indicate otherwise. The murderers/terrorists who committed the Charlie Hebdo killings were in the wrong and there should be clear consequences. Violence never resolves conflict, and I will never condone a harmful act.

And at the same time, also on my mind are the limits that society places on freedom of expression. Simply put, you cannot just say anything you want at any time to any person. And as a person of faith myself, I believe one ought not ridicule, demean, or belittle another’s belief system. I certainly wouldn’t want anyone to do so to my own.

But on the other hand, I have no trouble laughing at some of the more absurd satirical presentations of Christianity. I love Betty Bowers, for example. So snarky! And Lark News is always good for a laugh (Headline: “Man Tired of Being Used in Sermon Illustrations”). I usually get a kick out of Jesus when he appears on South Park, too, although you can’t really watch that with your kids, if you know what I’m sayin.

So back and forth and back again; this whole thing is really complex for me.

The Vatican has officially denounced the attack while at the same time asking media outlets to treat religions with respect. And that would mean ALL religions. Pope Francis is quoted saying, “There are so many people who speak badly about religions or other religions, who make fun of them, who make a game out of the religions of others. They are provocateurs.”

Okay, but in no way shape or form does that mean they deserve to die. The staff of Charlie Hebdo was murdered in cold blood. They did not “have it coming to them.” It was shocking, appalling, an act of evil and hatred. And the Pope also said that it is an “aberration” to kill in the name of God and that religion can never be used to justify violence.

Now, a lot of religious satire seems to point at the way religious principles have been altered by practitioners of said religion. In that sense, the humor can be prophetic. I absolutely love the South Park scene where Cartman forms a “Christian” rock band and replaces the words “baby” and “darling” in pop songs with the word “Jesus” in order to make them “Christian,” for example.

Stuff like that illuminates truth, and if we can manage to laugh at it without taking offense, it can be quite helpful in our spiritual growth.

Comedians can be prophetic, too. People like Louis CK and Ricky Gervais and Nick Offerman sometimes say things about religion that might sound pretty harsh. But those things resonate because they are grounded in truth. I often end up laughing and wincing at the same time.

Of course also in the mix here: I had never heard of Charlie Hebdo before last week, so I was curious. Looking at their stuff now, it just really isn’t all that funny to me. It is crude, defiant, bold, all-inclusive, yes. But I guess I’m not really in the right context to find it amusing. And lacking the humor, the bite of the satire isn’t quite as illuminating.

So you see, all of that is tumbling around in my head, which has made it impossible to form a clear and coherent response. Freedom of expression. Humor. Violence. Prophetic words. Humility. Religious diversity. Truth.

So here’s where I am:

- You can’t just say whatever you want and expect no consequences to follow, especially if it is demeaning or insulting or harmful.

- To be able to laugh at yourself and your own absurdity is a gift and sign of maturity.

- Nobody should ever be killed for expressing an idea, no matter how crude and offensive it may be.

I guess what I’m saying is, we need to somehow figure out how to have all three of these ideas held together, always.

Who Do I "Speak For"?

I read this line in an article in the Springfield News-Leader this morning:

“All respondents except two, Campbell United Methodist Church and Emmaus, said they speak for their congregations, not just for themselves as leaders.”

Here’s the deal. The city of Springfield is making a rather awkward attempt to engage the question of whether to add sexual orientation to the city’s anti-discrimination language. A part of their process was a survey sent via email to pastors all around town; there was a link in the email that took me to the online survey.

One of the questions on the survey asked if I as the pastor “speak for the congregation.” I thought this was a no brainer - “Of course not. The congregation I serve speaks for themselves.” But apparently out of the 56 churches surveyed, there were only two who answered this way.

So let me tell you why I answered the way I did, a way that obviously places me well outside of the mainstream.

First of all, I know for a fact that people in my congregation think all kinds of different things about homosexuality. Obviously, there is more than just one way to see things. (Less obviously, there are more than just two ways to see things.) It is a myth that there is only one faithful Christian belief set; it is likewise a myth that there are only two. Faith rarely deals in either/or. Followers of Jesus are a diverse group, to say the least.

And so how could I possibly speak for my congregation when my congregation reflects such an array of opinions? Surely our society has matured beyond the glorification of homogeneity. Campbell UMC must be one of those rare congregations that has figured out how to love one another in spite of our differences of opinion. We feel that our diversity is a strength, and a part of our core identity as a congregation.

Secondly, it is tricky to make the claim that pastors truly “speak for” congregations in any context. I may be revealing my Methodist tendencies here, but nevertheless it remains that we are not Baptist, nor AG, nor any of the other pastor-centric structured churches around us. We are Methodist, and I for one am proud to claim a distinctly Methodist identity.

That means we are governed by conference. A group of people makes decisions at every level - the Charge Conference locally, through the Annual Conference, Jurisdictional Conference, and on through the General Conference for the denomination as a whole. No single person “speaks for” a Methodist entity at any level of our governance, and that’s the way I like it. Granted that it makes for some frustrating procedures and processes sometimes, but I believe the trade-off is worth it.

Thirdly, I need to say that my saying that I do not speak for my congregation does not indicate that I am a “moral relativist,” as some might fear. I believe what I believe, and draw upon the “Wesleyan Jazz Combo” (Scripture as the lead instrument, with tradition, reason, and experience as the rhythm section) to inform my theological reflection. I’m pretty confident in my belief that the Bible is clear in what it condemns with regard to sexuality, and a mutually loving and respectful, covenant relationship between two adults who are of the same gender is never condemned anywhere in Scripture.

And with that said, I am aware that there are some who agree with me, some who wholly disagree, some who sort of disagree but aren’t sure why, some who agree partly, some who haven’t really given it much thought, and a whole host of other opinions. And knowing this, I cannot in good conscience “speak for” the entire congregation on this particular question. All I can do is articulate my own belief and engage differences of opinion with respect and grace.

One could make the case that I am in fact speaking for the congregation as I describe it. I’ll go along with that. For example, when I make the claim that Campbell has figured out how to love one another in the midst of our differences, I am in a way “speaking for” the congregation. At the same time, I fully expect that someone who knows the congregation and doesn’t agree with me would call me on it if I said something nutty.

FYI, the other congregation, “Emmaus,” whose response was that they do not “speak for” the congregation, is described on the website as “led by a group of pastors - no single person is in charge.” They hope to create an “attitude of encouragement and accountability” in their ministry. Sounds pretty cool! Like something any congregation should strive for, in fact.

So I hope you understand my reasoning behind answering the way I did on the survey. It’s not that I do not feel I am a “leader” for Campbell UMC; it’s that I would never dream of “speaking for” a group of people who are perfectly capable of speaking for themselves, and doing so with grace, respect, and love.

Diverse is Different than Divided: 2012 Election Reflection

I must say, after Tuesday’s election, most of us seem to be … just fine. Of course, there is a distinct minority of Americans which is not just fine, and within that minority there are two sub-groups: people who are ecstatic and people who are appalled.

The ecstatics are ecstatic because President Obama was re-elected and now all is right with the world.

The appalleds are appalled because President Obama was re-elected and now our nation is hopelessly doomed to oblivion.

Neither outlook is truthful, and that’s why most of us are just fine. We know we’re not great; there is a lot of work that needs to be done, so we’re not really ecstatic. We know we’re not horrible; things have been and could be a lot worse than they are, so we’re not really appalled.

And of course there are degrees of “just fine-ness,” with some of us on the pleased end of the scale and some on the disappointed end. And there is variety within the spectrum of “just fine,” depending on if you are talking local, state, or national levels.

The “just fines” voted Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, Green, and the rest. Some of our candidates won, and some lost. Some of our ballot initiatives passed, and some didn’t. Some of our amendments amended, and some didn’t. And so it goes.

And “just fine” doesn’t equal “weak” or “ambivalent” or “disengaged,” by the way. Many of the “just fines” are energetic, passionate people who care deeply for our communities, our states, and our nation. We’re just realistic about it, and by realistic I mean this:

We understand the difference between “divided” and “diverse.”

If Tuesday’s election did nothing else, it reinforced the idea that the United States of America is a diverse nation. The “ecstatics” and the “appalleds” want to talk about how divided we are, but I don’t think that is accurate. Our nation is not divided, it is diverse, and there is a big difference.

There are times it feels divided, but the problem lies with the system, which is currently structured in such a way that the myth of the divided nation is perpetuated. One of the changes I wish for is the immediate elevation in significance of multiple alternative political parties, so that the system more accurately reflects the diversity of our nation, and provides a process by which we can choose from among a more diverse set of platforms.

Just for example, this year I was struck by the number of people with whom I communicated who expressed the core of the Libertarian Party platform. Though not a clinical survey, it seemed to me that a fiscally conservative approach that emphasizes personal freedom, including the freedom to marry whomever one chooses, was fairly common. However, neither the Democratic nor the Republican platforms fully reflected this perspective, so the people who felt that way were forced to compromise something of their values if they wanted to feel as if their vote counted for something.

We should never have to choose between feeling like our vote counts and feeling like our vote fully reflects our values. Many of the “just fines” vote for people rather than party already. Last Tuesday, I personally voted for candidates representing three different parties. I think it would be very healthy to bring more voices into the conversation, more perspectives, more philosophies from which to choose, and not automatically consider these alternative parties to be “fringe” or “extreme” or any other dismissive label, but rather legitimate perspectives that we could hear, understand, and then choose, or not.

However, all in all, I’m just fine. Our nation is just fine. So is our state and our town. My president is a Democrat, my U.S. senators are Republican and Democrat, my U.S. representative is a Republican, my governor is a Democrat, my state representative is a Republican. See, just fine. Not ecstatic, not appalling.

There is a difference between divided and diverse. Our nation is not divided, we are diverse, and I for one love it that way.