A Wee Blether

Carol at Tribal Church and I are having a conversation about the Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright. Most recently, I asked Carol: How do you approach a sermon with which you deeply disagree? If you don’t agree with it, does that mean it’s not God’s word, or not God’s word for you?

Carol responds….

You know, I like to see our presidents to go to church. I wouldn’t ever vote against someone for not attending, but it does make me feel a little better knowing that the most powerful man in the world can take an hour to seek guidance from someone other than the political and military experts. It’s good when a leader is a part of that complicated community that seeks to know God, that listens for God’s word.

Bill Clinton didn’t miss too many Sundays. George W. Bush talks a lot about his faith, but he doesn’t darken the door of any church on a regular basis.

Barack Obama was an active church-goer, of a UCC congregation. He donated his gifts and money for decades. Which would normally help him in the running, but not this time. His pastor, widely known as a great religious mind, said things in the pulpit… things that are difficult to hear.

Of course, we know that Republicans have been supported by religious men like Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson, and James Dobson, who regularly said things that horrify us. They pepper their broadcasts with vitriol against gays, lesbians, women, and even the poor. Michael Gerson addressed this recently:

Didn’t George Bush and other Republican politicians accept the support of Jerry Falwell, who spouted hate of his own? Yes, but they didn’t financially support his ministry and sit directly under his teaching for decades.

Okay, so Gerson only addresses Falwell, who is conveniently dead. Gerson’s explaining that religious right candidates have received the abundant money, the votes, the grass-roots organization, but they would never subject themselves to any sort of guidance from these men.

I wonder…how does that make the religious right feel? Do they feel played with this stark admission from one of Bush’s former speechwriters? Gerson outlines the harsh reality of the conservative/religious/political stew. It is not a quid pro quo, something for something. It is something for nothing. There is no relationship here.

Gerson says Obama’s case was different. Obama didn’t just have a supporter, he had a pastor. Obama was not receiving money from Wright’s organization. He was giving money to a church. And when the words came out of Wright’s mouth, Obama did not leave.

Why didn’t he leave?

As Barack Obama explained in his speech, the church was more than a place where he could garner support for his promising political career. Obama was part of a relationship, a community, a family. The words of his pastor made him cringe. But he learned something very important there. He learned to listen to the generations who came before him. And through those words, he learned who he was and who he was not. Obama is not casting Wright off as a batty old uncle (as Gerson proclaims), Obama is explaining that sacred, intergenerational understanding that forms in our spiritual communities.

In the Reformed tradition, Karl Barth writes that the Word of God refers three things: Jesus Christ (the Word made flesh), the Scriptures (as they point to Jesus Christ), and the Word proclaimed (which means our preaching. Gulp.).

I don’t think that everything that comes out of my mouth on a Sunday morning during my 12 minute time slot is the Word of God, but I will say that there is something about that relationship between the words and the congregation that is significant. There is something about how those sermons are held in a community, how the syllables sink into our bellies and then come out through our hands and feet, in the amazing work of reconciliation and peace. There is something about how the stories are understood from generation to generation that make them the Word of God.

But that is not the complete answer to Adam’s question. Because there are those dark times when slavery and oppression have been condoned from our pulpits. When racism, segregation, misogyny, and abuse has spewed from the mouths of preachers. And, at those times, I have to say, that has nothing to do with the Word of God.

So how would you answer Adam’s question? How would you approach a sermon with which you deeply disagree? Is it the Word of God?

And my question for Adam:

When a member leaves a church, it’s always difficult. And watching this pastoral relationship dissolve in such a public way has been particularly painful. What are you learning, as in intern and seminarian, about the relationship between pastors and members?

photo’s by babasteve

Ayr Presbytery’s meeting last week was the really difficult for me. Not only was parliamentary procedure thrown out to the window to detriment of everyone, but presbyters kept making the distinction between tackling a certain matter before presbytery in terms of discipline or pastorally.

Not once did anyone challenge the assertion that a complaint made to the clerk could either be taken up as a matter of church discipline, or as a matter of pastoral concern. It was a telling moment.

If I made that absolute distinction before my presbytery committee overseeing my ordination process, or if I argued that distinction on my polity ordination exams, I imagine I’d be in for some major challenges.

For those of us in the PC(USA), the discipline of the church is pastoral. Sure, discipline may not always seem so, but the beauty inherent to the Book of Order is that discipline is always delivered in a pastoral manner. More, the discipline process itself is seen as the height of pastoral concern, not as distinguished from it.

Read the preamble to the PC(USA) Book of Discipline, and marvel at its beauty:

D-1.0101 Church Discipline

Church discipline is the church’s exercise of authority given by
Christ, both in the direction of guidance, control, and nurture of its
members and in the direction of constructive criticism of offenders.
The church’s disciplinary process exists not as a substitute for
the secular judicial system, but to do what the secular judicial
system cannot do. The purpose of discipline is to honor God by
making clear the significance of membership in the body of Christ;
to preserve the purity of the church by nourishing the individual
within the life of the believing community; to achieve justice and
compassion for all participants involved; to correct or restrain
wrongdoing in order to bring members to repentance and restoration;
to uphold the dignity of those who have been harmed by
disciplinary offenses; to restore the unity of the church by removing
the causes of discord and division; and to secure the just,
speedy, and economical determination of proceedings. In all
respects, all participants are to be accorded procedural safeguards
and due process, and it is the intention of these rules so to provide.

Darn tootin.

image by stroinski

photo credit to Kathryn by way of unknown photographer

So I’m in Edinburgh airport, hoping my flight to JFK isn’t too delayed, anticipating the glory of my exit row (you just have to be tall and ask), and hankering for the many treats Decatur, Georgia has to offer me next week. Here’s my top ten must-dos next week.

10. Have Sunday morning coffee and bagel at Urban Grounds
9. Check out the digs at the new Dancing Goats
8. Visit the friendly staff at Little Shop of Stories; probably buy a book
7. Eat the Kosmic Karma at Mellow Mushroom
6. Chick-fil-a breakfast (ok, lunch and dinner too)
5. Buy fresh, lovely, cheap food at Your Dekalb Famers Market
4. Be affirmed in my decision to take the internship at Ayr: St. Columba Church
3. Test drive the Subaru Forester
2. Chat with professors–I could do this for hours
1. Catch-up with scores of friends, while drinking Sweetwater 420

for audio, click above

Ayr: St. Columba Church
Pentecost
Acts 2:1-21, 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13

To the Glory of God

I have a friend who finds the signs and plaques of the presbyterian church problematic. At my presbyterian seminary in Atlanta, there’s a beautiful quadrangle with a lush field in the center. Paths run between the four buildings–administration, classrooms, library, and refectory–but not over the central grassy area students just call “the quad.” And at the edge of the quad, a brass plaque reads, “The Oldenberg Quadrangle, dedicated to the glory of God in gratitude for the service of Douglas Oldenberg, President of Columbia Theological Seminary, 1987-2000.”

And if you’re standing above the plaque and look around, you’ll see many wooden benches lining the paths. On each bench is another plaque bearing the name of a generous donor to the work of the seminary and at the top of each plaque, above the name and the date, they all say, “To the glory of God.”

To this friend of mine, these plaques seem a bit showy, maybe over the top, and he questions the authenticity of the words, “To the glory of God.” He thinks writing “To the glory of God” toots one’s own horn rather than God’s.

I don’t know, maybe I’m just too presbyterian, or not cynical enough, but most of me wants to believe folk really are giving To the Glory of God. We at St. Columba know this well, look on the plaques below the stained glass windows when you leave. Or choir, look at the two plaques on the organ. At the top of each, in bold script, you’ll read, “To the glory of God.”

I’m not certain where the phrase originated, but it echoes the famous first question of the Westminster Shorter Catechism, adopted by the Scottish General Assembly in 1647. “What is our chief end?” the first question asks, “To give glory to God, and enjoy God forever.”

Now Peter, in the book of Acts, was around long before Columbia Seminary existed, years before the church in Scotland, but Peter, in today’s reading, lives and breathes the mantra “To the glory of God.” Continue reading To the Glory of God, sermon on Acts 2:1-21…

Carol at Tribal Church and I have been blogging back and forth on some of the issues the Jeremiah Wright furor. Carol’s most recent question is:

what are the theological implications of Wright’s words?

Wow. Well let’s see. I could talk about black liberation theology, or prophetic witness, or hermeneutics of humility, or diversity and worship, but I’m going to narrow the discussion to one on preaching, specifically, preaching on politics in America today.

In my Reformed Theology class a few years ago, the professor described a Reformed view of the Word of God. There’s plenty of ways to put this, but in class this day we were discussing three ways the word comes to us (Barth, if you care). First, the Word is fully revealed in Jesus Christ. Second, God’s word is revealed to us in holy scripture. And third, God’s word is revealed in the proclamation of the word through preaching in public worship.

We noted the emphasis of the inspiration of Holy Spirit in the process of revelation of the word, and in the back of the room, a hand shot up excitedly. In an astonished almost unbelieving tone, a student explained how gob-smacked he was that a sermon given in public worship is understood as God’s word. He’d preached the previous year in his home church without any sort of thought to his human words as the word of God revealed. He was taken aback, to say the least.

It is an astonishing claim, that God’s word, through the power of Holy Spirit might be proclaimed from pulpits all over the country each Sunday. By measly people like you and me, God can somehow make our words affective, and by the power of Holy Spirit and the community’s discernment, reveal God’s truth and love.

Sure, there are lots of nuances here and plenty of places to be careful. It’s a concept that should bring the preacher to her knees in humility, not inflate her ego or decrease her effort in sermon preparation. But it’s a big claim: the preached word is God’s word revealed as it witnesses to Jesus Christ, God’s word incarnate.

Christians of at least the Reformed tradition place a large emphasis in the proclamation of the word in sermon. Jeremiah Wright surely does too, as his church seems to concur by selling Wright’s sermons on DVDs. So, theologically speaking, it makes sense that it’s so very difficult to discuss sermons on the evening news. Sermons, in their context of corporate worship, are not mere personal reflections or after dinner speeches, but means through which God reveals God’s word and witnesses to Jesus Christ.

In recent years, the IRS has investigated several churches to determine whether they should be able to keep their tax-exempt status. As I understand the 1954 Internal Revenue Code regarding nonprofits and political action, the code explicitly prohibits nonprofit organizations from directly endorsing or opposing a candidate. Sure, if you’re a nonprofit with explicit political purpose, you can do so but you’re then classified as a 501(c)4 nonprofit and donations are not tax deductible. Churches are assumed to have 501(c)3 nonprofit status and donations towards their work is tax deductible. So according to the IRS, churches must not endorse specific candidates.

According to some random article I found online by Mathew D. Staver, Esq., pastors can personally endorse or oppose candidates, personally contribute to them, personally work for them even, publicly advocate for them on basis of personal conviction, but not personally endorse a candidate while in the pulpit. [Pastor Dan notes a new tack here.]

I have never personally endorsed a candidate from the pulpit - heck, I’ve only preached 50 something sermons - but these restrictions certainly seem to me to censor the word of God proclaimed.

Several churches and the IRS are fighting in court at the moment over the gray areas. If I preach in favor of universal healthcare and an African American in the oval office, and against 100 more years of war in Iraq, is that endorsing or opposing candidates? Or further, what if I say Jesus would vote for the democratic party without saying the congregation should (remember, it’s only a hypothetical)?

The IRS restrictions amount to censorship, but that’s because churches have certain nonprofit status. I don’t think the IRS understands the theology of the proclamation of the word. I don’t think congregational accounts should be held hostage by what the pastor preaches. And I don’t think Wright should have to worry how his preaching will affect his parishioner’s political future.

To make a controversial claim: to fix congregations being bound to these IRS regulations, I’d advocate - though I doubt my congregation would agree - that churches should just drop their 501(c)3 status and not be beholden to governmental regulations. While there are benefits of churches enjoying nonprofit tax exempt status, it’s dangerous to censor God’s word proclaimed.

So, regarding Wright’s sermons, one of the theological implications is a certain censorship of the word proclaimed.

My question, then, to Carol is: How do you approach a sermon with which you deeply disagree? If you don’t agree with it, does that mean it’s not God’s word, or not God’s word for you?

image by madmaven

Due to the generosity of a Columbia Seminary Student Coordinating Council scholarship, last weekend I attended a conference near Edinburgh, Scotland (the scholarship covered my expenses from Ayr, Scotland, not Decatur, GA )

As part of my application for the scholarship, I suggested the best way to share my experience with the Columbia community–seeing as I’m still in Scotland–is through the magic of the interwebs, specifically this blog. So here’s my reflections and report. (To you CTS readers out there, please feel free to ask questions in the comments section, or to email me. I’ll do my best to respond quickly either in the comments or through a post, as I realize an in-person presentation on campus would have left ample time for questions.)

Setting the context:

Seven years ago, some good folks in the Church of Scotland brainstormed a vision for a meaningful church movement, one that moved away from a dependency on church buildings–many of which in Scotland are aging and expensive to maintain–and towards a different attitude regarding church. That movement became Church Without Walls.

After some changes in leadership and initial teething problems, the Church Without Walls has taken on several forms, one of which is an annual National Gathering. This year, the gathering was held at the Royal Highland Center near Edinburgh–yes, the place that hosts the largest annual cattle show hosted around 5,000 Presbyterians. (I have to say, we smelled better.)

As a denomination, the Church of Scotland is struggling in terms of membership, leadership, and vision, so I was quite drawn to a conference emphasizing a fresher more agile approach to church. Before attending, various pastors and members shared a wide range of comments regarding Church Without Walls–some said it was too conservative, some said too happy-clappy, some said it didn’t fit the church as a whole, others raved. So I was eager to attend the National Gathering, worship and learn, and discern for myself what the movement is about. Overall, it was disappointing weekend, but there were moments of insight and vitality.

Worship:

Leading worship in an enormous barn is pretty difficult. I attended three worship services, each with a slightly different flavor. Screens and visual projections were used in a variety of ways. Curiously, worship lacked a good flow. For Saturday’s services, songs for gathering morphed into songs for worship, a speaker was introduced, one bible reading was shared–almost as an afterthought–and then closing songs were sung before people left.

Interestingly, not much about the services would key a worshiper into the fact that it was a Church of Scotland conference. For me, the highlight of worship occurred as the first corporate act of the conference (if you don’t count gathering). The congregation sang Psalm 100 a cappella, slowly, and rousingly. When the convener invited us to sing, I thought it was going to be a disaster–5,000 people singing a cappella in a barn? But the result was the highlight of the conference. It’s just a shame it occurred in the first five minutes.

No font. No table. No Bible. No Lord’s Supper celebrated. The organizers seemed interested in fancy fluff like powerpoint slide backgrounds, but would have done well to order a pulpit more substantial than a wobbly music stand. Speakers had little connection with the conference’s theme, and no connection to each other. Judging from the circumstances, organizers seemed content with booking big names rather than thinking through meaningful worship as a whole.

For the first two services, music was led by praise bands (sorry, their names aren’t clear in the program). The first band, did very well leading a variety of songs and hymns, playing at appropriate volume levels, generally enabling God’s people to sing. The second band favored obliteration rather than invitation. Music at the third service was led by John Bell and a few other Iona Worship Group-minded people. In minutes we were singing in three part harmony and our attention was drawn to God rather than to the personality of the leader.

The preachers’ sermons were unconnected to each other, and several were strangely lacking in a clear focus on scripture. It wasn’t clear to me whether they were “preaching” as in the proclamation of the word in corporate worship, or “presenting” as in giving an entertaining trade talk on the topic of the presenter’s choice. I was especially looking forward to hearing John Sentamu, Archbishop of York and recently in the news for cutting up his clerical collar in solidarity with Zimbabweans and in protest of Mugabe. Sentamu spoke well on the meaning of the ascension and the distinction between evangelism and mission. But by the time he left the stage following an impromptu altar call, rude commanding of the music leaders, and self-promoting drumming, I questioned his approach.

Perhaps the most telling part of worship was the invitation to the offering during which Albert Bogle, the chair of the conference planning group asked folks to dig deeply into their pockets and hearts, “Because I blew the budget.” He explained he had spent so much on making this conference happen this year that they had run out of any reserves, and lacked any resources to arrange a conference next year. While this invitation may have been effective, I found it off-putting and arrogant. After already paying my registration fee (many thanks to SCC), I was not for a minute going to give money to a man admitting poor stewardship and making a joke out of it. He never refer to the Planning Group or any sort of communal financial oversight, repeatedly saying “I blew the budget” without any remorse. Furthermore, not even one of the five offerings collected was given to any causes beyond the Church Without Walls organization - rather ironic, I must say.

I don’t mean to come across as negative, but my experience of worship at the national gathering was negative, so I feel I should report accurately. I would have found services that seemed more connected to each other, recognized the Word as that which we gathered around, noted the centrality of the sacraments, and gloried in the diversity that a gathering of such size brought about to be more faithful and inspiring.

Seminars:

Between worship services, a conferee could attend seminars. At each time slot, one of four seminars was offered. I found the fact that only four choices were offered rather interesting, as a conference seeking 10,000 registrants in the PC(USA) would probably offer dozens of seminars. The Scottish organizers knew what they were doing, however, as the average attendance at mine was about 150-200. I’m at a loss to explain this denominational difference, but it may be due to the PC(USA)’s emphasis in all-age Christian Education.

21st Century Discipleship was led by Elvis Elahie, moderator of the Presbyterian Church in Trinidad. Elahie spoke of the difficulties being Christian in a very religiously diverse Trinidad. He presented the theological positions of exclusivism, inclusivism, and pluralism and spoke in favor of a more plurarlistic-minded approach to ministry. Only through partnership with those of other religions, Elahie said, could Trinidadians tackle the culture of crime and violence in their society.

World Without Walls was led by Albert Bogle. Unfortunately, he had prepared a powerpoint presentation but was unable to give it as it was scheduled in a venue not suitable for powerpoint (rather embarrassing for the conference director). Bogle continued off the cuff, however, and explored how he had happened on the idea for World Without Walls, which provides for partnerships between Scottish churches and those in developing countries. It’s a pretty cool project, taking the traditional idea of church partnerships and adding technology to enhance the relationship. The seminar lacked much substance, but I appreciate the aims of the project.

Looking Good, Being Bad from Aidrian and Bridget Plass was not what I expected. They presented a hodgepodge of jokes, banter, and poems written on church, God, and the Bible.

The Dawkins Delusion, led by Oxford Professor Alister McGrath, was a dissection and refutation of Richard Dawkins’ book “The God Delusion.” It was beautiful. With simple powerpoint, McGrath presented difficult philosophical ideas smoothly and well. His basic point was that Dawkins has turned atheism into a religion itself. Though Dawkins tries to back up his ideas with science, they are ultimately questions science can’t answer. After hearing McGrath, I would highly recommend his book “The Dawkins Delusion.”

The Tented Village:

The Tented Village was a big feature of this event, asking congregations to buy a tent and through it to tell the story of the congregation. I’d say it worked pretty well. There were hundreds of tents and most of them were fairly creative. Church members would hand out baked good, or fliers, or sing songs, or show videos, and a number of other ways to invite conversation. The tented village certainly led to a feeling of connection and invited conversation. Visually, it was a cool way of seeing hundreds of Church of Scotland churches represented in one place. Theologically, it reminded us of God leading God’s people out of exile, and of the importance not to become too dependent on one church building.

Random observations:

• One way to know you’re attending a Scottish conference is when it’s lunch break, everyone goes to the field and whips out a picnic. It’s a good thing, too, because the only food to purchase was from trucks like you’d find at the fair - but much less good. Needless to say, I brought a picnic for day two.
• Clear signs are important.
• I can’t remember the last American conference I attended without name tags. The Scots proved it’s possible to be friendly, churchy, and name tag free.
• I appreciated the multiple recycling bins for collecting plastic bottles.
• If you go to the gathering next year, don’t pay any attention to the directions the person at the info desk gives you for the bus stop. Following her directions, I had to climb a barbed-wire fence and jump a stone wall. She was right, though, on the other side of the wall I found the bus stop!

In conclusion, I found the conference illuminating and interesting, but far from inspiring. Attending such a gathering helped me further understand the Church of Scotland, and broadened my perspective of ministry in Scotland. The conference raised more questions than answers about the future of the Scottish church, but they are questions I am glad now to consider. I am grateful to SCC for the scholarship, and thank the scholarship committee for their award.

Carol over at Tribal Church and I are having a conversation regarding Jeremiah Wright. My introduction to the series is in this post. My first question to Carol was:

With our current media situation, can we in America have a responsible public conversation on race, religion, and politics or are we destined to the lowest common denominator of ten-second sound-bites?

Her answer found here, follows:

I was serving a small church in Cajun Louisiana. Think The Apostle, Robert Duvall’s masterpiece from eleven years ago, and you’ll know where I was. It was literally filmed down the road from my church.

When I was doing some community organizing, I made friends with Prophetess Perot. She asked me to preach at her revival at the House of Prayer, and I (of course) accepted.

I had no idea what was in store when I drove up to the tiny clapboard house. The building had been transported from a plantation and its walls were soaked with history. Houses of Prayer were the one place on the plantation where slaves met, without any oversight or fear of their owners.

This House of Prayer was where the Bible was read and preached, where revolutions were planned, where hope was reignited. Within those walls, in that safe place, men and women told their stories. They could cry about the beatings, they could whisper the truth about the rapes. The sanctuary was a refuge in every sense of the word.

Upon entering, I found out that the walls were now filled with posters, with the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. written on them, next to the words of the biblical prophets, Elijah and Jeremiah. I read them as the heat from the room enclosed on me.

The series of services was not a revival in the sense that they were out to save anybody. It was a week to revive the pastor. All the speakers and singers were there to encourage the congregation and the prophetess in her work. The congregation was made up mostly of women, and when we talked, I found out that most of them were professional cleaners.

The deacons had starched white coats on. They lined the walls to make sure everyone was helped. I was thankful that I wore a dress, and my husband was in a suit, otherwise we would have felt quite out of place.

We began the service with singing praise choruses and spirituals. And there’s so much I could write about-how the prophetess entered twenty minutes late and was seated in a large wicker chair, how the singers were a family act who traveled about from revival to revival-but I need to get to the point, so I’ll skip all that and tell you about the deaconess who got up to pray.

She was beautiful. Thin, black, with perfect posture. I was about 27 at the time, and she was the same age. When she opened her mouth, there was some sort of power behind her words. A force I can’t explain. But, the preachers reading this know what I’m talking about. She prayed through every part of her body, that her mouth, and nose, and ears, and hands, and feet would all serve God. It was poetry. It’s a prayer form that I’ve tried to copy a hundred times since I first heard it. Except for one part. When she referred to God… at first I didn’t understand it… I couldn’t figure out what she was saying.

And then it hit me. She was saying, “Massah.”

Oh no. It can’t be. I thought. And she said it again. And again. She’s my age. She grew up in the same country that I did. She’s smart. This can’t be.

I had this gut-wrenching urge to plead with her, “You can’t do that! You cannot refer to God as your Master. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t. You are God’s daughter. You are not God’s slave.”

I recall the incident frequently in my mind. And sometimes I still wish that I had been brave enough. But I wasn’t. It was not my place to enter into that sacred house and begin telling her what to do. To tell her how to talk to God. I didn’t think myself as a descendant of slave owners, but she knew that she was a descendent of slaves.

That history was in the walls, and it was in her veins. And she would pray to God, who was her only Master, in the way that she wanted. It was not my turn to speak. It was my turn to listen, and to pray with her.

There was so much in those walls. We were sitting in a context of history that I could never understand.

And, so to answer the question, I’d say that we cannot have a responsible discussion on race in America in the media, by extrapolating sensational sound bites and listening to them over and over again. It’s not just the full context of Jeremiah Wright’s sermons that we are missing. We are missing a beautiful and complicated history, an entire tradition of people who could speak freely in their sanctuaries without the fear of censure.

I do not agree with Jeremiah Wright. I am saddened by the damage he has done to Barack Obama’s campaign. I shudder at what he has said about AIDS. I fear when he says, “God damn America.” There’s just something deep within me that worries that God will hear him. That God will honor his plea. I watch the National Press Club clips and shake my head. Rev. Wright has been flippant he should have been serious.

But I also acknowledge he’s speaking in a context that I will never understand, one that pulses in this country, and goes far beyond the context of the sermon. It is a tradition that began in those houses of prayer. In the one place where people could speak freely. Where no one could tell them what they ought to say, and how they ought to pray, and how they ought to sing, and how they ought to talk to God.

And so, it is again my place to listen. Not only to Wright’s sermons, but to the vital tradition of liberation that scares me and gives me hope.

We cannot have a responsible conversation in the media. But we can have it in our spiritual communities. And the words of Rev. Wright have stirred up that opportunity.

So, Adam, let me ask you, what are the theological implications of Wright’s words?

Thanks for the fantastic post, Carol.  I’ll think on these things, and post right back at you.

So Carol over at Tribal Church and I have both been thinking about blogging and Jeremiah Wright, but stymied over the best blogging approach. Now that the furor had died down a bit, we’ve agreed to have a bit of a blogging back and forth, asking each other probing questions and reflecting with our brilliant wit - ok, well at least the first part. I’ll give my overall impression of Wright, and then the questions.

In many ways, Wright speaks out of a theological perspective that speaks to me. Jesus delivered people from oppression. He did not lead folks to financial prosperity, nor to easy answers, nor to cuddle up to corrupt systems. Jeremiah Wright gets this, so my initial thoughts on the controversy were that Wright was being slammed unfairly by the media in a slow news week.

Did you notice how seldom the media refers to him as “The Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright?” Did you notice how one sermon was taken out of context without regard for the rest of Wright’s ministry? Did you notice how his service in the US Marines is seldom mentioned? These complexities make it easier for the media to portray Wright stereotypically rather than with complexity. The stereotype was one with which many Americans have great difficulty: un-educated rabble-rousing preacher, anti-American, angry black man.

Anyone who knows anything about Wright’s church knows this stereotype is a sad indictment of religious, racial, and political dialog in America.

So when Wright went public a few weeks ago, initially I was cautiously optimistic that he would transcend these stereotypes and heighten the level of conversation. I watched Bill Moyers interview, and thought this might be the case. I watched the Detroit NAACP speech, and got a bit worried. I watched the National Press Corps presentation - especially the Q and A - and knew the moral high ground was lost, as was any salvageable credibility, forever.

So here’s my first question to Carol:

With our current media situation, can we in America have a responsible public conversation on race, religion, and politics or are we destined to the lowest common denominator of ten-second sound-bites?

image by mishahu 

If you have six minutes, Moyers’ sermonizing below is just first-rate.

When Megan and I return to the states in July, we’ll need to buy a few things to get us settled in again: new stamps, groceries, sunscreen, and…a, oh yeah, a car. See we sold both of our cars before we left for our year abroad.

I’ve been researching for what seems like forever and narrowed it down to two (well, basically–I took the Jetta TDI out since it may not start well in very cold weather, and the Civic is a fantastic car, but a bit wee, and Megan just doesn’t we don’t think the Prius fits our style).

So let’s pretend we’re choosing between the CR-V and Accord. We’re going to be a one car family so we need the vehicle to be reliable - both are. We need something safe, big enough for car pools, and fun to drive is always nice - both got it. So here’s my thoughts…

CR-V: Everyone I know who has one loves it. Great room everywhere, especially the back - that’d be real handy for our bikes. It’s crazy safe. And, hey, it’s much cooler than I am. The main problem is ethical. It gets the best mileage in its class, better than most cars, but 20 city 30 hwy isn’t a hybrid. Then again, if we’re going to keep it 10+ years it’s upkeep costs are lower than the Accord. But would I be joining the ranks of an SUV owner (rather than a “crossover vehicle”)?

Accord: My previous car was an Accord and my experience was as most: great solid car. It’s not a looker, but it performs like none other. The bikes would be more of a problem, but the mileage would pay for the annoyingness of a rack. We’d get a manual, which the CR-V doesn’t offer. Dual AC is pretty spiffy. But would I be the boring predictable pastor?

So I’d be real interested in what folks had to say. Are we sinners if we get the CR-V? Is the classic styling of the Accord just too boring for my uber-boring personality? 

To vote, go to this simple, straight-forward, bound-to-work poll here.  If you vote “other” I’d love to know what “other” you have in mind.  

(and if anyone knows how a better way for polls in posts in wordpress please let me know)

click for audio

Ayr: St. Columba Church
May 4, 2008

What Shall I Do With You?
Hosea 6.1-6

1 “Come, let us return to the LORD.
He has torn us to pieces
but he will heal us;
he has injured us
but he will bind up our wounds.

2 After two days he will revive us;
on the third day he will restore us,
that we may live in his presence.

3 Let us acknowledge the LORD;
let us press on to acknowledge him.
As surely as the sun rises,
he will appear;
he will come to us like the winter rains,
like the spring rains that water the earth.”

4 “What can I do with you, Ephraim?
What can I do with you, Judah?
Your love is like the morning mist,
like the early dew that disappears.

5 Therefore I cut you in pieces with my prophets,
I killed you with the words of my mouth;
my judgments flashed like lightning upon you.

6 For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings.

(for audio click on the link above)

On Radio 4 last week, I heard an interesting discussion with a children’s book publisher and children’s book author on the newly proposed children’s book rating scheme. Not unlike the movie rating system, publishers have proposed rating children’s books according to age appropriateness, and prominently placing each book’s rating on the cover.

7+ for some books, 10+ for others, “Teen” for the rest.

What struck me about the interview, however, was not the merits of the rating system, but one of the questions asked by the interviewer. He said, “But isn’t it difficult to tell how to rate each book? For example, Christian parents will certainly have different standards for their children’s reading than, say, humanist parents.” Continue reading Sermon: What Shall I Do With You, Hosea 6:1-6…

I didn’t lie. I have a sermon up by Thursday. I investigated a few other wiki sites, and am sticking with deki wiki. At least this way you don’t have to sign give you email addresss, and I created a special public username and password.

Much of contemporary thinking of preaching has moved from thinking of preaching as a hierarchical speak-at model, to a conversational speak-with model. The use of wiki technology broadens that conversation even before the sermon event.

Certainly, wiki sermons bring up many important theological questions. For instance, if a sermon - as I believe - is given and written for a particular congregation in a particular time and place, wiki users will not necessarily have a solid understanding of the context. But…other perspectives are important, and may bring in new appropriate ideas that the preacher would not have seen otherwise. (I’ll stop there, but there’s plenty more thelogial questions.)

To access the sermon follow these simple instructions:

• go to my wiki site and read the sermon.
• login by typing Jesus as the username, and theway as the password
• comment at bottom, or click edit up top to edit till your heart’s content (don’t forget to click save from the editing icons when you’re done.

Hopefully this Thursday post will give more people time to access the sermon, and participate in a fun experiment. (Obviously, I reserve the right to change whatever I feel called to change) And I can always tell St. Columba folks that Jesus edited the sermon!

image by zuen

I attempted to write a thoughtful reflection on Rev. Wright’s recent speeches, but I need some space. Instead, here’s the best commentary from Tuesday, which I’ll add to in the coming days.

Diana Butler Bass writes an altogether too kind portrait of Wright over the last few days here.

In the NY Times, Bob Herbert writes a much more damning, and much more accurate piece here.

Finally, Eugene Robinson accurately predicts Obama’s bus-throwing earlier today here.

My quick take: not good for Obama, not good for the black church, not good for American Christianity, not good for America.

Update:

Jim Izrael has a fair post on the UCC here (thanks Barbara).

Pam writes an interesting post here

This Wright-related article on Black Patriotism is well done (thanks Catherine).

Joe Klein, solid but not revolutionary here.