Has Feminism in the Lutheran Church Gone Too Far?

A friend of mine recently directed me to an article regarding an ELCA church in San Francisco, Ebenezer Lutheran, which had the following sign up: "Goddess Rosary, Wednesday 7 pm." (You can read the entire article here) While I have my own reservations about certain "feminist" language that is being imposed on biblical translation, this transcends a mere question of whether God has feminine qualities. When a "Goddess Pilgrimage to Crete" (sponsored by a pagan group that is dedicated to the worship of "goddesses" - plural, not singular, and includes the Greek goddesses like Aphrodite) is being touted and supported by the ELCA, I start to get more than just a little nervous. When I read what this "Goddess Pilgrimage" entails - I shudder and have to wonder myself if the ELCA has crossed a threshold that may bring about the downfall of our most basic beliefs within the Lutheran Church. At what point have we ceased to be Christian, and become the very thing Paul and the other early Christians were fighting against? Not just fighting against, but died for because they refused to partake in these practices.

Perhaps I'm being an alarmist. Wouldn't be the first time. But if the trend within the Lutheran Church is to begin embracing worship among Minoan pagan altars, of tapping into the "power of the Goddess" within mountains and caves (not that worship in caves and mountains is wrong in and of itself, but these places are also the traditional sites of pagan/nature worship practices - because they could "feel" the presence of the god or goddess who would dwell in the caves and mountains - their "power" was thought to be strongest in these places because they were a part of the rocks, trees, etc.), I won't be able to run away from this denomination fast enough!

While I'm all for women being validated as women, and that "patriarchal oppression" indeed needs to be fought against, and that we should highlight the counter-cultural treatment of women by Jesus, Paul, etc, and yes, I can even see the usage of certain "mother" imagery in imaging God... it's moves like these that invite criticism from those who think the ELCA has gone woefully astray, and I would be among those who would agree with that sentiment. If this ELCA congregation needs to close its doors in San Francisco because they are unable to reach people with the Gospel of Jesus Christ, then so be it. We shake the dust from our sandals and move on, we don't adopt pagan practices in an attempt to entice people into our pews!! I have to ask - what is the Sierra Pacific Synod thinking??? What is the National Synod thinking allowing this to occur under the auspices of Lutheran practice and theology? While the idea of "herchurch" is a lot outside my comfort zone to begin with, after reviewing their site, I can at least accept it as an attempt (an ATTEMPT, mind you, not that they're actually achieving it) to still be within the bounds of Christianity - but when they ally themselves with paganist groups such as the Ariadne Institute which states they explore "the ancient and contemporary myths and rituals of the Goddesses," (PLURAL!) I think the line has definitely been crossed. The "herchurch" site begs that we read all of what they believe, and based on their professions of faith, I inherently have nothing against "herchurch." It's the company "herchurch" is keeping that causes me to cringe and the warning flags to start flying!

As a woman, I understand the plight of women fighting for the right to be leaders in the church, and I even to a degree understand certain portions of "feminist theology." I myself have received criticism for deigning to become a woman pastor, accused of "ignoring scripture" because I put the 1 Timothy text into its proper context and do not apply it as a church-wide mandate. But in my humble opinion - it's actions such as these at Ebenezer Lutheran that caused Paul to clamp down so harshly on women in the first place and is what led to his condemnation of their taking leadership roles in 1 Timothy. Something similar is going on in San Francisco - the church is acquiescing to it's surrounding culture, giving into the pagan practices that predominate the area, and just like in Ephesus - it's women that are leading the headlong plunge into apostasy.

If Christian women don't want to feel the back-lash of this, of people pointing to the Lutheran church and saying "see, this is why women should never be leaders - look at what it leads to!" we need to be loud about our disapproval of such practices. And for those who want to further the argument and cause of ordaining practicing homosexuals in the Lutheran church - they had better scream long and loud as well! Why? Because one of their arguments is that the reason God called homosexuality an abomination was because it was being done as part of the Canaanite pagan cults. When (and yes, I'm probably stereotyping given the location of the church in question) lesbians get together and want to start "goddess worship" among the pagan ruins of Crete, it's not a huge leap for the next few steps into full-blown pagan practices to start taking hold once again. Female sexuality has long been a practice of "goddess worship" throughout the world. In the age of "Christendom" the practices were essentially squashed to only a few adherants, but with the rising tide of interest in the "old" religions and practices of our ancestors, neo-paganism is on the rise - and is finding ways to utilize Christianity so that it doesn't seem like it's "paganism" on the surface. Yet, that's exactly what it is. At the very least, it's promoting pantheism. At the very worst - polytheism.

Now let's envision for a moment... women engaging in "Goddess worship" among the pagan altars of Crete... feeling her power in holy mountains, sensing her mysteries in the darkness of caves (which is where the chosen priestess and male "stag" would traditionally copulate during the spring equinox festival of Beltane in the hopes of impregnating the priestess, who would then raise the child among the female priestessess of the cult. Both the man and the woman would wear a mask so the identity of each would be hidden), and pour out libations of milk and honey on Minoan altars....

Is anyone else seeing warning flags??

The 12 Days of Christmas

OK, this is a totally random posting... but I was sitting here discussing the lyrics of the 12 days of Christmas with my mom (yeah, that's what it's degenerated to, I'm afraid) and how I always get the last 3 totally mixed up, so I looked up the lyrics online and discovered that the symbols of the 12 days apparently actually stand for something! (I know - most of you probably know that and are all shocked and a little disappointed that dear Rivkah had never given the song a lot of thought before now!) :-p I mean, I knew what the 12 days of Christmas were - the 12 days between Christmas and Epiphany that are supposed to be a feasting celebration, but in case there are any others out there who have never thought about what "12 Lords a Leaping" meant before either... I dug around and found some interesting things - some of which is a bit disturbing, I'll admit! :-) (Most have to do with fertility issues and are somewhat sexual in nature... DOH!) :-)

1st Day - "A partridge in a pear tree"
Well, fruit trees are representative of fertility - and of course there's a whole history of a CERTAIN fruit tree from the Garden of Eden! Apparently, part of the folklore is that a young woman should be able to walk backwards around the pear tree, then gaze through its branches and see her future husband. (Hmmmm... think it's too late for me to go find a pear tree???) And a partridge is known for being a very "lusty" suitor. But the "my true love," religiously, is supposed to represent God.

2nd Day - "Two Turtledoves"
Doves for centuries have symbolized both love and fertility. Astarte, the Phoenician goddess of love, is said to have been hatched on the banks of the Euphrates River from an egg that was warmed by two doves. Venus, the Roman goddess of love and beauty, was born of water, where doves are often depicted drinking. This is why they are often seen as fountain art. It's also why Christianity adopted the dove as the symbol for the Holy Spirit. But doves are also said to mate for life, so they are symbolic of marital devotion, faithfulness, and ever-lasting love. Many associate the "two" with the Old Testament and New Testament as well - the two "covenants" or "testaments" of God that bind us together and tell the full story of God and his relationship with humanity.

3rd Day - "Three French Hens"
One Christian tradition is that it is believed a rooster crowed when Jesus was born heralding the coming of the light into the world and is seen as a symbol of resurrection. (This is why some Christian tombs have roosters on them!) But during the 18th century, large exotic fowl from the orient were brought to England and bred with the local common chicken and created a new breed. And hens also symbolize motherly devotion. They're also thought to represent the three theological virtues: faith, hope and charity.

4th Day - "Four Calling Birds" (Actually it's COLLY Birds!!!)
A "Colly" bird is a European black bird. It's essentially a crow (which does call!) :-) Blackbirds were a delicacy in medieval times. Religiously, the "four" is associated with the four gospels that "call out" the good news of Jesus.

5th Day - "Five Golden Rings"
Unfortunately, it's not jewelry, but represents the five rings of gold around a pheasant's neck. This goes way back to the Greek heroic tale of Jason and the Argonauts and the Golden Fleece. The pheasant is supposedly a sub-species of the "bird of Phasis" which were used to create the Golden Fleece. Pheasant soon became viewed as a delicacy reserved primarily for the rich and royal (tell that tall the hunters around here!) and was seen as the "high point" of the feast. These "five golden rings" are also associated with the Torah/Pentateuch, the first five books of the bible.

6th Day - "Six Geese a-Laying"
Geese are involved in many ancient folklore tales. Because of its migrationg patterns, it's long been associated with the solar year and (you guessed it) fertility. The Roman Goddess Juno revered the goose as sacred because in 387 BC the geese in her temple honked and alerted the Romans the invading barbarians were close. They have since been revered for their protective qualities. Ancient Egyptians also believed that a mummy's sould would rise with the head of a goose. Six is then also representative of the six days of creation.

7th Day - "Seven Swans a Swimming"
Like the goose, swans were also highly revered animals in the ancient world. Egyptians continued to link them with immortality, but it was their dual ability to be both of the water and of the air that caused the ancients to believe they represented a connection between both the supernatural and natural worlds. British and Celtic myths frequently pictured loved ones who had died turning into swans with chains around their neck to represent their enchantment. Then on the festival of Samhain (Halloween) when the window between the two worlds would open, the swan would transform and the loved-one would cross over into the spiritual world. This "spiritual" theme is carried on in the Christian significance, representing the seven-fold spirit of God.

8th Day - "8 Maids a Milking"
When a maiden was asked to go "a milking" it was viewed as either a marriage proposal, or a very risque invitation for intimacy. (How does a young maiden know the difference??) ;-) But this also represents the 8 Beatitudes.

9th Day - "9 Drummers Drumming"
In England, there were town "waits" or watchman who would call out the hours of the night. Eventually, they became the town musicians and would be nicely rewarded at Christmastime. The beat of a drum is traditionally also associated with warfare along with trumpets that would hearld a coming battle - but later, trumpets also signalled the arrival of each course at a meal. A musician would usually know how to play both a trumpet and a small drum. This is also associated with the 9 fruits of the Holy Spirit.

10th Day - "10 Piper's Piping"
Being a shepherd was a pretty boring job, so most shepherds played pipes to keep themselves entertained. 10 also stands for the 10 commandments.

11th Day - "11 Ladies Dancing"
Dancing and music of course always goes hand in hand. Dancing and singing were ways in which stories were told - hence "Christmas caroles" are one way in which the story of Christmas is told. The number 11 is associated with the 11 faithful apostles. Like the crow who announces the good news in the 4 gospels, music and dancing are another way in which the gospel story is told. (Though I have to wonder how many strains of more misogynistic Christianity would view the 11 apostles as "ladies"!) :-)

12th Day - "12 Lords a Leaping"
Well, we had the 11 ladies dancing, now we have the Lords a Leaping - dances that were strictly for men alone, such as certain fertility dances and war dances. Some Roman dances involved men leaping as high into the air as they could in the hope of inducing rain to fall to help the corn grow as tall as they were leaping. In Britain, a similar dance was performed by men during the festival of the 12 days for entertainment purposes. 12 is associated with the 12 points of doctrine in the Apostle's Creed.

Aren't you glad you now know this bit of Christmas trivia??

The Voice of Christmas

I'm sure most of you read or heard about the man who was trampled to death at a Wal-Mart in New York. Eager holiday shoppers stampeded the store, tore doors off their hinges, and trampled the employee to death, while injuring more who were attempting to help the fallen man - all in the name of bargain shopping.

The story made me sick to my stomach. For more reason than one. First, just the general indifference people seem to have for one another these days - that their bargain shopping was more important than the life of this man is more than just appalling, it's reprehensible. Second, that it was done on a day that was supposed to mark the start of "the Christmas season." Well, I'll tell you - if that's what "the Christmas season" has become, I don't want to be part of it! I think "the reason for the season" would be more than just a little annoyed that the celebration of his coming into the world has been turned into not only a "commercial" enterprise, but has now turned into a cause for human beings to lose all sense of civility. Rather than lifting up the things that Jesus' life exemplified - caring for the downtrodden, weak, poor, sick, etc. - Christmas has seemingly become the very thing Jesus despised. A focus on materialism, on ourselves, on all the distractions and problems that we put upon ourselves this time of year.

Thus, I thought the text for this coming weekend, the voice of one calling in the wilderness (Mark 1:1-8), was an interesting text to follow on the heels of such depraved indifference in our world. Amid all the commercialism, gift buying, human idiocy, etc. - we are given an image of a man who lived in the desert, wearing a robe made of camel hair and eating locusts and honey. Few people would think to add John the baptist to their nativity set! Not exactly the yuletide picture we think of when it comes to Christmas, is it? No turkey and stuffing for John the baptist. No gift-laden tree, no serene nativity scene lit all aglow. Just a wild-man in the desert, awaiting "the one who is to come."

Advent is the time we await the coming of Christ into the world. John's waiting for the coming of Christ is similar to our waiting - but we seem to be preparing for it quite differently.

There are a lot of voices we hear at this time of year - buy this, buy that, find this, come here, go there... and amid all of that, we faintly hear the voice of one crying in the wilderness. It's a hard voice to hear, because we have a lot of distractions. Shopping, cooking, making travel plans, putting up decorations, fighting with family, etc. etc. We hear the voices that make us empty promises... of how our lives will be better if only we bought this... or tried that... and I confess, I know I'm just as guilty.

But I can't help but wonder if we aren't being called back into that wilderness - back to a place where the demands of the "season" are left behind. A place where a desert man cries out "Repent! Repent!" I am beginning to wonder if this isn't a message we need to heed - repent of what we've turned this season into. Repent of bargain shopping frenzies that have lost all sense of human decorum. Repent of stuffing ourselves full of Christmas treats (of course, there's more than one benefit of this for me!). Repent of family strife and arguments.

Because John speaks of "preparing the way" for the Lord. John prepared the way for Christ's coming not by exchanging gifts, or eating a large turkey or ham dinner (especially not the ham since he was Jewish, after all) - he prepared the way by baptizing, teaching, and proclaiming the good news of the one who would come to save the world. He prepared by retreating to the wilderness and removing himself from the cultural hub-bub of his day.

So I have to wonder... what can we learn from John the Baptist this Christmas season???

Christ the King

This Sunday is Christ the King Sunday. Admittedly, my initial thought was "Egads! How do I preach this?" (Matthew 25:31-46) Sheep and goats, eternal hell, all that fun stuff.

This text is always difficult for Lutheran pastor’s to preach. A former professor of mine, Karoline Lewis, illustrated it like this:

As a kid, you go up to your mother or father and say, “My neck hurts when I go like this” – and then demonstrate the pain-inducing move. Our parent’s response: “Well, then don’t do that.” A similar conversation occurs in the minds of preachers for this Sunday. "When I try to preach Christ the King Sunday, my neck hurts." The answer may be something like the following, "Well, then don't preach Christ the King Sunday."

One of the reasons we find this text so difficult to preach is because it is so heavily judgmental, and leans so heavily towards what we would call “works righteousness.” And let’s face it – we don’t like to talk about Jesus as a judge. We don’t exactly name our churches “Judging Jesus Lutheran,” do we? We want a Jesus who overlooks our being lazy, overlooks everything we do and turns a blind eye to sin, neglect, and inaction. After all, it’s faith—not works—that saves…right? This is what we preach as Lutherans.

However, “works righteousness” isn’t exactly what this parable is about. And it certainly isn’t about Jesus turning a blind eye to the injustices of the world. Quite the opposite. However, what this parable does do is it begs the question: What does it mean to have faith in Christ?

Is faith just an intellectual assent that something is true, or is faith something more than that? Does faith mean we sit idly by while God does his thing, or is faith actual participation in God’s Kingdom? Does faith mean that we ignore the things that were important to Christ, or that we pick up our crosses and take an interest in the things Christ was interested in? Do we live our lives in selfish, unproductive ways, or do we live our lives in faith—faith that Christ has not only redeemed us from our sins, but that God actually wants us to be a part of His Kingdom? That we aren’t just observers in the Kingdom of God, sitting on the sidelines not playing, but that we are active participants in helping bring God’s kingdom to earth? We pray this every week, do we not? Thy Kingdom come? And God has invited us and said, “YOU can help!” Do you have faith in God’s kingdom? Then let’s get to work on bringing it about.

If you go back and read Genesis, you’ll find something interesting—God created us not to be slaves, not as some accident like many of the other near eastern myths that were floating around at that time, but to partake in “kingly” duties. Not only does God hand creation over to us to care for, but it says God created us “in his image,” and part of God’s image is the image of a King. Because a king, while yes, is a ruler, is also a servant. Luther described a Christian as being “Lord of all, servant to none; servant to all and Lord of none.” This is what Christ is saying: those who have faith in my kingdom will also be a part of bringing my kingdom about. And in my kingdom – we clothe the poor, feed the hungry, and work for justice.

Because the problem is, when we stop partaking in being a part of building God’s kingdom, not only do we get lazy and selfish, but we start forgetting who exactly our King actually is. We forget who we belong to. It’s for this very reason that Christ the King Sunday was instituted.

Christ the King Sunday is actually a fairly new “holy day” on the church calendar. It was started by the Pope in 1925. Now you have to realize what was going on in Italy in 1925. Mussolini became Prime Minister of Italy in 1922 and by 1925 had declared himself the “supreme leader” of Italy. During Mussolini’s reign, he committed unspeakable atrocities against his fellow human. The King of Italy turned a blind eye, however, because he was fearful of Mussolini and his party. Of course, we also know Mussolini was followed by someone who became an even bigger “supreme leader” – Hitler. The atrocities that were carried out throughout both Italy and Nazi Germany were allowed to happen for one reason and one reason only – people forgot who the true “Supreme Leader” really was. They allowed swastikas to adorn their pulpits and sat silently as millions of Jews, misfits, and what society considered “undesirables” were carried off and killed in concentration camps. They stayed silent as Germany engaged in a war that killed millions more. These Christians forgot who they were, or more importantly, they forgot who they belonged to. Because they never gave their time to become builders of the Kingdom, they didn't know what to do when the time came to truly "live their faith."

Something else was their king—fear. And fear can be a fierce tyrant. I found it interesting this year in the elections the mantra that kept going around was “choose hope over fear.” While I do not doubt some people truly were doing this, I saw the majority of people not choosing hope – but choosing one fear over another a fear. Four years ago, fear of terrorism was what drove us. This year, it was fear over a failing economy. It’s interesting that these things are mentioned in John’s Revelation. John speaks of four things that we sometimes try to put our trust in and try to feel secure about – and if we’re not careful, fear of these things can run our lives. Fear of national conquest, fear of war and violence in our neighborhoods, fear of economic instability, and then ultimately—the fear of death itself.

These are the fears that drove the people of Italy and Nazi Germany as well. And that fear can sometimes paralyze us into inaction. Our active faith becomes an inactive faith, frozen by fear of worldly rulers.

Now this is not to say there weren’t Christians who stood up—there were, and many paid the price. What they didn’t do, however, is they did not let fear rule their life. It doesn’t mean they weren’t afraid—I have no doubt that they were. But fear was not what ruled them. They didn’t let fear of arrest and even death dissuade them from doing… the human thing. They did it because they remembered one thing—they remembered who their supreme ruler really was. They remembered who the true King was. And they remembered that their King was not a tyrant—but a servant. Their king was a king who entered into the depths of hell rather than causing it. Their king was a king who invited them to partake in helping bring heaven to earth. Their king was a king who didn’t seek to escape the harsh realities of life. In fact, their king did the opposite – he entered into those harsh realities—even to the point of death. Their king was a king who didn’t turn a blind eye to the suffering and unpleasantness in life. A king who did not worry about what the rulers of this world were going to do to him. A king who did not seek to save his own life at the expense of others. In fact, he handed his life over in order to save others.

Now this passage naturally instills a certain amount of nervousness in most of us—because we begin wondering, have I done this?—am I going to be a sheep, or a goat? Have I done enough? How frozen by fear and selfishness have I been? And, to be honest, it was designed to do just that. Jesus didn’t say this to make us think that ignoring God’s invitation to be partakers in the kingly responsibilities of caring for and serving others was any small deal. While God certainly doesn’t NEED our help in order to bring about His Kingdom, he has chosen to let us be helpers. It's a gift. In fact, he created us for that very purpose. We are created to be builders! He says these things to move us into action.

While this judgment seems terrifying—let us also remember the nature of our judge and King… the one who rules with love. Instead of ruling from a distant Heavenly throne, he enters into the “hell” of being human. Not only does he enter into the sometimes hellish human experience, but look at the throne he rules from: a cross.

Thus a passage like this is both a warning, and a promise. A warning that neglecting our part in building God’s kingdom, of allowing fear to rule our lives rather than Christ, of caring only for ourselves, being blind to the problems of the world, means that the possibility exists we will then not share in what we did not help build. For if we neglect all these things, we have not been living in faith.

And as much as we hate those kinds of warnings, they do serve a purpose. The purpose is to bring about change. It’s the old story, if a Mack truck is headed your way – wouldn’t you appreciate the warning to get out of its way? Change your route or direction? This is what Jesus is doing—giving a warning so that we jump out of disaster’s way. He does this not for the sole purpose of reprimanding and instilling fear, but because – he loves us. He cares about where we’re headed and what we do. If Jesus didn’t love and care for us, he wouldn’t warn us. Like our mother who warns us, “Look out, that stove’s hot!”

But the amazing promise that is given is those who live out their faith, who have helped build that kingdom, share in everything that the kingdom has to offer. Even if we screw things up most of the time.

Faith is a way of life, not just acknowledgment. Faith is not an “inactive” faith. Faith drives us, it pushes us, it causes us to see Christ in others. It causes us not to be paralyzed into inaction because of fear. Because faith comes from the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit is anything but inactive.

"Tis the season to attack Christmas..."

Oh goody. It's that time of year again! The articles are already pouring in about how humanist atheists are once again trying to "get rid" of Christmas. Normally, I just roll my eyes at this and go on my merry way. However, admittedly, this latest article I came across in the Lincoln Journal Star I found somewhat irritating.

The article headline from the Nov. 12th Journal Star paper was entitled "God Humbug: Humanist Holiday Ads Say 'Just Be Good.'" Apparently, the American Humanist Association out of D.C. has spent $40,000 on an ad campaign that states: "Why believe in a god? Just be good for goodness' sake," and will appear on Washington, D.C., buses starting next week and running through December. In and of itself, the ad is not something that would irritate me. They want to spend $40,000 on that, it's their money and they're free to express their opinion. (Though I am a bit perplexed as to the purpose of trying to "convert" people to atheism. The logic escapes me. I mean, most other religions, Christianity in particular, do it - at its core - because they honestly believe that there is danger in NOT believing. But what does the atheist gain other than getting people to believe along with him/her so they're not alone in their belief that there is nothing beyond this life?)

What captured my attention, however, was their "reason" for doing this. It was as follows:

"Our reason for doing it during the holidays is there are an awful lot of agnostics, atheists and other types of non-theists who feel a little alone during the holidays because of its association with traditional religion."

I guess my question would be... why do they feel "alone"? If everyone else in my neighborhood was celebrating Mahashivaratri (the Hindu night that is sacred to Shiva) and I wasn't because it wasn't something I believed in, so what? Maybe I'm just being thick here, that's always a possibility with me, but I fail to understand why there is this need by humanists/atheists to undermine and do away with religious festivals simply because they don't wish to participate in them. I mean, when I'm in Palm Springs and the Gay Pride Parade is going on, I don't usually go and participate because I'm not gay and I don't really feel the need to participate in that parade. I certainly don't feel "left out" by any means, however, and I'm not going to say they can't have it because I'm not gay.

If the humanists want to celebrate something of their own during that time, fine - make up their own holiday like celebrating the missing link of evolution no one can find, or celebrate the death of the dinosaurs that was the impetus for giving rise to humans as the dominate species on earth. I personally won't celebrate it, but if they want to, by all means, go for it. And I won't feel "alone" or "left out" even if it were to become a national holiday. I'd just do a happy dance that I got another day off from work.

But why tear down a holiday that others find so meaningful and wondrous? What is the purpose? What fear drives this sort of desire to undermine people's faith lives?

Fred Edwords, spokesman for the humanist group, continued by stating:

"...we are trying to plant a seed of rational thought and critical thinking and questioning in people's minds."

While I'll grant you, there are many "irrational" Christians out there, the arrogance implied in his statement is that only atheists and humanists are somehow "rational and critical" thinkers, and it's their "planting" of the seed that will somehow cause us all to be rational and critical thinkers. I suppose there are many that would take issue with my rationality sometimes, but I don't think someone who's religious ceases to be rational. After all, many of our greatest leaps in scientific discovery were made by "religious" people. Sir Isaac Newton, while best known for his "discovery" of the concept of gravity, wrote far more books on theological issues than he ever did on mathematics. Does that make him "irrational" and not a "critical thinker"? While yes, the church had its period of stupidity when it tried to squash certain scientific thoughts and discoveries, religion in and of itself is not in opposition to rational and critical thought.

Sure, there are some things that do seem like foolishness to the world, like God displaying his power through something like the cross doesn't make a whole lot of sense to most human understandings. I think Mark Allan Powell stated it best, though, that when we rely on reason and knowledge alone, it's like trying to sit on a two-legged stool.

Secular or pagan philosophy often claims that there are two primary sources for knowing the truth: reason and experience. We believe some things are true because they are logical and rational. We believe other things are true because experience and observation reveal them to be true. But Christian philosophers sometimes claim that this is only a two-legged stool. If you take everything that is possible to know through reason and experience, you still do not have a sturdy or reliable grasp of the truth. There is a third leg: divine revelation. We know certain things to be true because God has revealed them.¹

The difference between an atheist's reason and a Christian's reason is that for the "rational" Christian, reason and experience are the God-given avenues through which we can come to know the truth. The fact that the humanist chooses to remove God from the equation and rely on human evolutionary processes is fine, and he or she is certainly free to do so, but simply because he/she attributes the source of his rationale to humans and humans alone does not make the religious individual who attributes his/her rationale to something that is more divine in origins any less "rational" or any less a critical thinker.

And I just LOVE the argument that gets thrown out that religion is a "crutch." I had an atheist argue the following with me one time: "[religion] is a crutch to avoid thinking about the harsh realities of life..." I had to actually laugh at the "irrational" voice behind this statement. First of all, crutches are quite useful when you have a broken leg. It helps with the healing process. Second, to not use the crutch is kind of stupid, as it will continue to put pressure on your broken bone and slow the healing process, if not leave you completely hobbled because you don't allow the bone to heal properly. The "logical" thing would be... to use the crutch. I embrace my spiritual "crutch" that I have in Christ, and I will gladly proclaim that.

It just makes me sad that there are people out there that are apparently so unhappy that the only cause they can find in life is to try and drag everyone down to their level of misery. If they're feeling alone and left out at Christmas--then perhaps they need to think about why that is. I don't feel left out of things I have no desire to participate in. If, however, they have some desire to participate - and really, no one is stopping them but themselves - I think that is the question that needs to be addressed rather than attempting to remove the celebration they feel left out of. The reason one should be upset about being left out of something is if one wanted to participate in the first place, but simply wasn't invited or allowed to attend. I don't think too many Christians out there would tell an atheist they weren't welcome in celebrating Christmas with them. The problem is, these atheists simply don't like Christmas because they disagree with what it stands for, not because they feel "left out" or alone.

The same right that the atheists are engaging in is the right that Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Jews, etc, engage in as well. It's called freedom of religion - the freedom to practice one's religion without fear of persecution. Our celebrating Christmas in now way infringes upon an atheists right NOT to celebrate Christmas. The U.S. Constitution does not state within the clause of the first amendment that we have freedom "from" religion, but rather, freedom "of" religion. In fact, the wording is that the U.S. Congress can make no law respecting an establishment of religion or that prohibits the free exercise of religion. Christmas is one of the ways that Christians exercise their religion and we have a constitutional right to do so.

Don't like Christmas? Don't participate. It's that simple.


1. Diane Jacobson, Mark Allan Powell, Stanley N. Olson, Opening the Book of Faith: Lutheran Insights for Bible Study, (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2008) 24

How Receiving "Hate Mail" Can Spawn a Deeper Understanding of Scripture

While no one likes to receive "hate mail" in response to something they've said or written, I, personally, have found it to be a great tool for honing my arguments and delving deeper into what I believe about scripture. Recently, I received one of these caustic letters that called me an "usurper," "blasphemer," and someone who wanted to interpret scripture so that it fit my own wanton desires...all because I wrote an article that defended a woman's right to hold the office of pastor - apparently in defiance of 1 Timothy. I was told to take scripture at "face value" and not question or challenge the obvious meaning behind the parts of scripture that stated women should hold no authority over men.

While sure, the words can sting a bit, and naturally, just royally tick me off to a certain degree, I actually feel somewhat better for the experience. Strange, I know, but I do enjoy having my stances challenged. Even though I know I am probably going to be unable to reason with an individual who refuses to listen to any sort of argument that challenges their "literal" or "face value" interpretation of scripture (and the fact that I was a woman meant in his mind whatever I had to say was null and void anyway...), it forces me to think even deeper about an issue, re-open scripture and take a look at what it is saying. Naturally, there is always that niggling little fear of "gee, what if he's right? What if I am doing this for my own wanton desires and am just grasping at interpretations that I like but aren't necessarily scripturally sound?" After all, God's word is God's word, but our understanding of God's word can sometimes be VERY flawed. I'm no exception.

Luckily for me, this time, my stance on this issue only solidified further because I began looking even more broadly at the 1 Timothy text and realized something rather startling as I did so... Paul actually negates himself from being a leader in the church if the stipulations set forth are to be adhered to for all times and all places!

1 Timothy states that church leaders are to be above reproach--yet Paul was a murderer and persecutor of Christians before his conversion! It says that they should not be quarrelsome, and we know for a fact that Paul frequently quarreled with the church in Jerusalem, with his own companions (Barnabas actually left and went his own way over a dispute with Paul), and with someone at Corinth (see 2 Corinthians). Leaders should also be "well thought of by outsiders." Hmmmm... I remember at least one letter where Paul had to defend his position as an apostle because people didn't like him much. Thus, Paul was apparently violating his own ordinances!

However, as I continued to engage in the argument with this man, I found myself thinking about the Pharisees, and how they misinterpreted the "intent" of scripture and were focused so heavily on the "letter of the law." Jesus' chastisement of the Pharisees runs throughout all the gospels, but in particular, I remembered how Jesus was constantly "reinterpreting" scripture for them. They missed the intention of why the law existed in the first place, and that it certainly wasn't so that they could neglect helping other people. In particular, I was reminded of how they screwed up the Sabbath laws, being so concerned about making sure they didn't "work" that they neglected helping people.

This then led me to something else Jesus had to say about "the weightier matters of the law" and "straining gnats" in Matthew 23. I re-read this entire chapter and realized... you know what, Jesus DOES point out that there are things in scripture that actually ARE more important than others! This doesn't mean other things are somehow "negated" or that some of these "smaller points" are not still important, but that if justice, mercy and faith are compromised in order to carry out some of these smaller points, then we have our priorities a little mixed up.

As frequently happens, I was reading Matthew 23 and I had some vague recollection that I'd read something else about this particular topic one time as well - so I pulled out my "Opening the Book of Faith" book and Mark Allan Powell's section "How Can Lutheran Insights Open Up The Bible?" The parts that caught my attention were as follows:

"There is a famous bumper sticker that reads, "God said it, I believe it, and that settles it." Lutherans would want it to be a little bit longer: we would want to say something about understanding what God has said. It doesn't do any good to believe what you think the Bible teaches if you have misunderstood what the bible teaches. What would we want the bumper sticker to say? 'God speaks to us through the Bible, we interpret the Bible to understand what God wants to say, and then we believe it--and THAT settles it.' But of course, that is much too long. Lutherans have never been good at bumper stickers." (p.27)

"Lutherans believe that difficult passages of Scripture are to be interpreted in light of those passages that are more readily understandable, and that all of scripture is to be interpreted in light of the Bible's central themes and motifs. We often try to reconcile what is said in one part of Scripture with what is said in other parts of Scripture, sometimes recognizing that there is tension between texts that seem to say different things. We try to be faithful to the entire Bible rather than just picking some parts and leaving others alone...This principle of interpreting Scripture in light of Scripture keeps us from using individual verse to justify things that might not pass muster with Scripture as a whole...The goal is to find the heart of Scripture so that we don't end up majoring in minors. Some religious people in Jesus' day got in trouble because they concentrated on little concerns and ignored big ones...In practice, interpreting scripture in light of scripture means that Lutherans must do some initial work at defining the teaching of "scripture as a whole" so that they will be able to interpret individual passages in light of the broader themes and overall message. When we do this, people who are not Lutheran often think that we are interpreting the Bible in light of our own theology. We understand why they think that, but we think that we are interpreting scripture (individual passages) in light of scripture (the Bible as a whole)." (pp.33-35)

I knew I had always followed this line of thinking, but this just clarified it into terms that were more clearly understood. Combining this way of interpreting scripture with the contextual issues that are always present, I felt solidified in my understandings of 1 Timothy. It isn't that we should just ignore 1 Timothy, but we must look at the overall "themes" of 1 Timothy, while also being conscious of the context into which 1 Timothy was written.

Thus, I think there are three things that we must always ask ourselves when we are working on interpreting scripture:

1. What is the context within scripture? Are there other parts of scripture that uphold or contradict this passage?
2. What is the context socially? What was going on that would have prompted this passage to be written?
3. What was the intent? What was the "theme" or issue that is being addressed?

Ok, so how does all of this relate to my long-standing argument about women being allowed to be pastors? Well, it made me really realize that God's word truly is not a static thing, that the "living, breathing Word of God," spoke back then, but is also speaking now. That the issue 1 Timothy is engaging is a "church order" issue that while beneficial, is not only one of those "lesser points" of scripture in comparison to the bigger points, but that when combined with the context, intent, and scripture as a whole, this really was a statement made to a specific people at a specific time for a specific reason.

Oh, I knew that in theory, but for some reason it took this "individual" pushing me to analyze the issue further that I truly understood what that meant. The "intention" of 1 Timothy is how to deal with good order in the church and how to teach sound doctrine. The issues that were impeding those tasks in the first century are somewhat different than the issues that impede us today. Clinging to the same solutions don't help us solve the problem--and in many cases turns into an oppressive doctrine that hampers the gospel, justice, and mercy. It doesn't make what 1 Timothy says untrue, it simply doesn't make it completely applicable to the here and now.

If one of the larger issues of scripture is spreading the gospel of Christ, oppressing a majority of the world's population (women) from engaging in that activity simply makes no sense in light of the rest of scripture. Is stifling a woman's gifts for ministry going to further the gospel? Is it engaging in love, mercy and faith? In short... no. It isn't. So what was the "intent" of 1 Timothy? To stop the teachings of false teachers. How is that accomplished? By removing the women who had fallen prey to these false teachers from teaching others--in particular the men.

So, if the guy who sent me hate email should ever run across this blog, I'd like to say "Thank you, you helped me find even more reason to think the way I do!" :-)

At any rate - to read my short article about Christians becoming like the Pharisees, click here.

Understanding the Wrath of God

Ok, one particular friend of mine and I have gone over this issue many times (and that dear friend knows who she is) :-) So I fondly look forward to her two-cents on this particular topic.

The "wrath of God" is something that makes the Lutherans among us rather uncomfortable. It's not something we like to think about and certainly doesn't seem to fit at times with an "always loving" God. Yet, something Rolf Jacobson said in his lovely little book "Crazy Talk" struck a chord with me. To quote:

The Anger of God: "The puzzling--to human beings--concept that God loves our neighbors so much that God gets angry at us when we do (or don't do) things and cause them to suffer."

Or, to quote Ricky Bobby from Talledega Nights: "I like the Christmas Jesus best." :-) (I still can't believe I used that clip in a sermon during Advent... the things I managed to get away with sometimes... if you've forgotten, here's the clip... Click Here.)

Luckily for me, I happened to have Dr. J for my prophets class, which means he made me actually think a little about this particular concept that we didn't particularly like to broach too much at seminary. Because we're Lutherans... we like our grace, not wrath. And most of the time, I would agree. But can we totally ignore the fact that sometimes, yes, God gets angry? And sometimes, he's angry with you and with me?

I see anger and love as two sides of the same coin. I call it God's "loving wrath." Stick with me here...

Too often in today’s world we try to separate wrath as being a part of God’s work in salvation. “God is love,” is thrown around in theological discussions like a haphazard hacky sack that fails to truly define or embody what exactly is meant by “love.” The preferred view of God is to see God’s love as always bestowing wonderful things upon us, and that God would never cause any sort of misfortune or pain. Thus we find ourselves with the “buddy Jesus” view of God (see "Dogma" if you haven't already to understand the reference) which completely dismisses the reality of God’s righteous anger that is prevalent throughout the entire Bible, both Old and New Testaments. We throw our sin against our neighbor on Jesus' shoulders, say God's wrath was spent there, and go on our merry way thinking all is swept under the rug. However, I think the key to understanding God’s wrath lies in understanding the nature of God's love. For anyone who has loved another, we recognize the reality that love, while at times wonderful, can also hurt—more deeply than if love were not involved at all.

After all...who do you get the angriest at? The people you love the most. Sure, you get angry with people who do bad things to you, and you get angry with lawmakers, leaders, judges, etc. who make bad choices, to the point that sometimes we run them into the ground, smear them at every turn, and do everything we can to make sure they aren't elected. However, at the end of the day, our most passionate anger usually lies with the people who mean the most to us when they hurt us. I may think someone's an idiot, but I rarely hold any lingering personal resentment or anger toward them for very long. I eventually just dismiss them for what they are in my view - hopeless idiots (although, God loves those idiots, too... Which is why God's love is far greater than my own! I try to say I lovingly dismiss them, but who are we kidding?) But the people who really hurt me, who really do a number on me, are the people I love the most. When love is betrayed, when love is thrown back in your face, when love is trampled on like old newspaper under a dog's behind, the result is anger. Or, as we sometimes like to call it, "wrath." And it's rarely pretty.

The problem is, in today's world, we are always trying to ascribe this thing or that thing to "God's Wrath." God's wrath against the licentious living in New Orleans caused the levees to fail... except, as Tony Compolo quite aptly pointed out, if that was the case, God missed the mark. Bourbon Street was left alone, it was all the poor people who couldn't get out that he destroyed. And admittedly, there are times in my life when I feel as though I'm being punished by God for things I've done in the past. Not always a healthy way to look at things, and let's face it, most Lutheran pastors out there would scream foul at such a thought... and I know that many times my misery is my own making... but I know it's crossed everyone else's mind out there, too, at one time or another. God wanted me to do this, I did something else, and now I'm suffering the consequences of that action. I still think there's more than a little truth to that. Actions in this life do have worldly consequences, as they should. But sometimes... I think a hurricane really is just a low pressure system... part of the natural order of our world that keeps our planet alive and thriving.

However, seeing Christ hanging on the cross reminds us of the very real nature of both God’s love and God’s wrath. God rages against sin, and rightfully so as it is what separates us from Him, to the point of death. And as none of us are without sin, we cannot view ourselves as being exempt from being targets of that wrath.

However, that wrath is not without its purpose and is not just a deity throwing a temper tantrum when He doesn’t get His way. Wrath, as an instrument of love (I know some of you are cringing at such a thought), is employed by God in order to bring about change, but is never the final answer. Wrath, while terrible and hurtful, is mitigated by mercy. God allowed the Babylonians and Assyrians to punish Israel, but did not abandon them and promised to bring them back to Him. God sent a flood, but desired not to totally obliterate creation. God banished Cain, but put a mark on his forehead so no one would kill him. Adam and Eve sinned in the garden of Eden, and the result was expulsion from the Garden and ultimate death. But that was not God's last word on this issue, either.

To look at Christ, then, is not to just shrug our shoulders, say thanks, and walk away... it is to see God’s love wrought through His wrath. Christ was crucified and took upon himself the full wrath of God’s anger against humanity’s sin. Were our story to end there, it would seem like God engages in divine child abuse. However... the story does not end there, because Christ was then raised from the dead three days later.

Thus, while I don't believe we can ignore God's anger and God's wrath at sin, what is important to remember is that the final answer lies not in the wrath and suffering of the crucified Christ, but in the hope of the resurrected Christ to which we must all cling, for there is where we find God’s mercy...and love. The two seem inseparable and must go hand in hand.

And, always remember, God's anger is temporary. Psalm 30:5 says, "God's anger is but for a moment; his favor is for a lifetime." To quote Rolf again, who was quoting Lincoln:

"God is angry with all of the people some of the time, God is angry with some of the people all of the time, but God is not angry with all of the people all of the time."

So while I'm not one to say that we don't have to pay the consequences for our actions, that God doesn't from time to time send something our way that seems terrible - we do know that no matter how angry God gets, it doesn't last forever... but his love does.

Are we accountable?

OK, I know... it's sad. I'm technically "on vacation" from the whole preaching and leading worship thing until I go through assignment and the call process, yadda yadda yadda, so one would expect I would want a break from looking at the weekly texts and spending time poring over them since I'll spend every week for the rest of my life doing this. Unfortunately, whether for ill or for good, I can't help myself from pondering some of these texts - the only difference is, what I ponder here is probably not exactly sermon fodder! But for a few of my fellow sem friends, they might possibly understand. :-)

The Old Testament reading for this Sunday was Ezekiel 33:7-11

So you, mortal, I have made a sentinel for the house of Israel; whenever you hear a word from my mouth, you shall give them warning from me. If I say to the wicked, "O wicked ones, you shall surely die," and you do not speak to warn the wicked to turn from their ways, the wicked shall die in their iniquity, but their blood I will require at your hand. But if you warn the wicked to turn from their ways, and they do not turn from their ways, the wicked shall die in their iniquity, but you will have saved your life.

Now you, mortal, say to the house of Israel, Thus you have said: "Our transgressions and our sins weigh upon us, and we waste away because of them; how then can we live?" Say to them, As I live, says the Lord GOD, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from their ways and live; turn back, turn back from your evil ways; for why will you die, O house of Israel?

The Old Testament is difficult for many of us to read and comprehend - especially for those of us who are Lutheran and rely so heavily on grace to save us, not our actions. Yet, the question remains, does Christ's blood release us from all responsibility? There's a double whammy going on in this text that rails against Lutheran sensibilities - on the one hand, the destruction of "the wicked" doesn't sound very nice and doesn't seem like something God should be doing, though it may be a justifiable destruction in the eyes of God (and most humans, for that matter) - but let's face it, no matter how just or righteous, God smiting people isn't something we're fond of talking about; on the other, the accountability of the prophet who is sent to speak the words of warning, for people to turn from their wicked ways in order to avert the wrath of God. Both of these issues are troubling for those of us who want our clean slate and free pass.

If we were huge free will proponents like the vast majority of our Christian counterparts, this text would be an easy and simple text to exegete: quite simply, the choice is yours. Heed the warning and be saved, don't heed it and be destroyed. Your choice. Same goes for the prophet: do as your told and be saved because you did your part; ignore me and stay silent and the blood of these wicked people will be upon your hands.

Yikes, yikes, and, well... yikes. I guess the question that all Christians, and Lutherans in particular, need to start asking themselves is will there still one day be an accounting for the things we do and the things we don't do? Is it possible to both be forgiven for the "things we've done and the things we have left undone" and still be held accountable in some fashion for these things?

The danger I have always seen in the way Lutheran theology sometimes gets interpreted is that because salvation has been "taken care of" by the death and resurrection of Jesus, and this changed the whole playing field in terms of human action earning salvation, we tend to get a bit complacent. No consequences for our actions is a wonderful thought.

However, I'm reminded of a friend of mine who just started her first call at a church that is not overly welcoming to visitors and "outsiders." She asked them what they wanted to do: change and become more welcoming or stay the way they are and quietly die. One woman responded she was fine with allowing their church to just quietly die out. When my friend challenged them with the Great Commission, the responsibility of all Christians to go out and make disciples, their response was, "We're Lutheran. That's not our theology." Hmmmm... it's not our theology - yet Christ is telling us to do it... what to do?! How do we reconcile a "no action" to save ourselves theology with a call by Christ and God to actually DO something?

"Salvation by coma" (as one of my professors once called it) seems somewhat un-biblical in my view. We agree, we cannot save ourselves, Christ takes care of that, and we are passive recipients of God's grace...but does that mean that there is no accountability, that there is no day when we'll stand before the judge and be held accountable in some fashion for failing to speak God's word when we've been told to, or hated when we should have loved, etc. etc.?

I'm reminded of the two books that are opened in Revelation (perhaps not the best book in the world to base all of one's theology upon, however, there it stands). An image of God opening 1) the book of life, and 2) the books of deeds. Both are at play, and neither idea is overly comforting. Because on the one hand, whoever is in the book of life, their name is there solely at the whim of God - it has nothing to do with deeds. However, there's this second GROUP of books that is based on our deeds... both options are scary! I suppose I would be willing to dismiss this point if it were a stand-alone statement not held up anywhere else in the Bible. The problem is, the entire Bible is always mixed with these two issues that are so simply portrayed in Rev. 20:12: grace mingled with human accountability. Even Paul, our great "grace" theologian finds himself caught in this strange paradox, admitting that all fall short of the glory of God (Rom. 3:23), yet also stating there are those who when they continue in their wickedness and do not bear the marks of a "true Christian" may not be "acceptable" (Rom. 12) in the eyes of God. Christ did not condemn the adulterous woman, yet still told her to "go and sin no more." Grace - yes. Accountability - yes. OY!

Repentance is replete within the Bible. You find calls for it everywhere, yet it's a word we Lutherans shy away from because it somehow insinuates that there is an action on our part, that we somehow do have to do SOMETHING. That we have to turn from our evil ways, seek God's forgiveness that is given so freely.

I suppose where I find myself turning then is to people like Abraham and David. God loved them, God continued to call them both a friend of God and a man after God's own heart - yet Abraham and David did do things that had consequences. Abraham didn't trust God when he should have and thus, now Isaac's line and Ishmael's line are forever at odds with one another. David committed adultery and murder, and there were dire consequences as a result. Did God forgive? Absolutely. Did it mean there was no longer some sort of judgment or no "accountability"? No. It seems clear that God's forgiveness is sure, but that we are also still somehow held accountable for our actions. To what end, well - I suppose that remains to be seen. Some consequences we witness first hand. Others, take longer to rear their ugly head... and others may still be waiting for us beyond the grave. Christ took the ultimate consequence of sin upon himself - death. Because of that, we have been assured we will share in a death and resurrection like His... does that mean every consequence of every sin that we commit is swallowed up in Christ? Ultimately, yes... but we also have to recognize that our sins still have very real consequences on others in the here and now. The "now but not yet."

I think the thing that sticks out the most in the Ezekiel passage for me is when it says that God does not delight in destroying the wicked. Instead, he would much rather see the wicked repent of their ways - and the only way in which that happens is if someone speaks up. The possibility for repentance can begin, but if those of us who have been given this "great commission" prefer to stay silent, will their blood also be upon our hands in some fashion as this passage suggests?

Even our Gospel lesson for today (Matt. 18:15-20) lends itself to the question of responsibility--of call and response. Calling one to task for something they are doing and showing them the error of their ways so that they might repent, and if they fail to do so, then out of the community they go. Again, not something we're fond of doing and in fact, something few of us are willing to do. But, as I have discovered, there's a fine line between loving someone and enabling someone. It is difficult for us to call people out on things, because who are we, sinners that we are, to ever judge another? The problem seems to me, however, to be that we are mixing up judgment with accountability. We don't pass judgment, but we are accountable to point out wrongs when they arise. Yet, to do so might make us very unpopular, and bring down the scorn of our friends, colleagues, and even parishioners. We avoid those calls like the plague because of how they might make us look - like we're somehow "holier than thou" or pretending to act like we know the will of God in some fashion. Well, we may not always know what God's will is from one moment to the next, one incident to another - but there are sometimes things that we do know because they have been revealed to us through scripture. One of those is that God's will and desire is for NONE to perish, that all might repent and be brought back to God.

Obviously, I'm not going to solve these paradoxical elements in a single, simple blog - after all, we've been struggling with these ideas for 2000 years, I hardly think I'm going to figure out the answer. And perhaps we're not meant to - perhaps living with the tension is God's will and intention! Another of those mysteries that we don't fully comprehend or understand because we aren't God. However, I do know this - I do have a responsibility and I do believe that one day I will be held accountable for the things I do and don't do. Forgiven, yes - but still held accountable. I'm not sure what those consequences may one day be, but they undoubtedly exist, nonetheless. It is both a terrifying and reassuring thought that we have to leave such things up to God - so the paradox continues! :-)

Now the question is - how do we convey to our parishioners that paradox? That they are both saved by grace through faith alone, yet God still demands that we DO something in this life? That we continue to care for our neighbor and that not only matters to God, but that we will be held accountable in some fashion by God if we fail to do so?

Olympics and Crumbs

Well, it's been a while since I've done my theology blog--mission trips and moving tend to purge my creativity for some reason.

But, I'm back with just a short musing on this week's text. I didn't have to preach this Sunday, but I suppose the theologian in me can't help but think about such things when I look at the weekly readings. This week's reading was from Matthew 15, about the Canaanite woman who begged Jesus to heal her demon-possessed child. "And how does this relate to the Olympics?" you may be asking if you read the title of my blog. No, the athletes are not demon possessed (though one has to wonder if China didn't sell their souls to the dark prince for a few of their victories!) :-)

Several things, however, have struck me as I've watched these Olympics: First, the men's gymnastics team, and how exuberant they were to win the bronze medal. The next, the women's gymnastics team and watching the tears and disappointment on their faces as they "settled" for a silver. And then there was the Swedish wrestler who left his bronze medal lying on the mat in protest (resulting in him getting kicked out of Beijing). And of course, there's Michael Phelps...'nuff said about that! This idea of "perfection" that the Olympics creates is both fascinating and thrilling to watch, but also bothersome on many levels. (Nothing more bothersome than the girl that sang at the opening ceremonies that they wouldn't show because they didn't feel she was "cute" enough!) Now, don't get me wrong, I love cheering these athletes on, and I feel all warm and fuzzy inside when the Americans do well. I confess--I'm guilty of some of the Olympic hype. I was jumping up and down with excitement that first night with the men's 4x100 relay win over France.

However, in the midst of watching all this, I read the scripture reading for this week, and couldn't help but think how similar the two situations were.

The Olympics are all about expectation and living up to this ideal of perfection. There are the 'preferred' athletes that are expected to win. For those who expect to win, and do--it's a feeling of accomplishment. But for those who are expected to win...and DON'T... you can see the devastation on their faces. It's not that they're not winners... it's that they didn't win the GOLD. They still won a medal, but it wasn't the medal they were expecting or hoping for. Though nothing tears at our heartstrings more than when some underdog who wasn't supposed to do anything at all winds up surprising everyone and winning an Olympic medal. (Anyone remember Tara Lipinski in the winter Olympics for figure skating back in 1998?)

Well, in a similar fashion, the Israelites were the "preferred" race of people, the people God had chosen to be His holy nation. They were the expected recipients of God's grace and favor. You would have expected them to be the "gold medalists" if you will. The top dogs--the ones upon whom God's face would shine and the world would revere--the Michael Phelps of holiness, or something like that. Ironically--the "gold medal" they were hoping for wasn't what they expected. They wanted a militaristic savior that would redeem all of Israel, set their nation atop all others and tear their enemies down. Instead--they got a carpenter who went around spouting things off like 'love your neighbor' and challenged their traditions and scriptural interpretations. Not quite what they expected. Jesus was, in their view, a disappointment as far as messiahs go.

Yet, here is this Canaanite woman--a woman who was unclean, a woman who was not an Israelite. A pagan. Someone to be despised and sent away. She ate pork, didn't wash her hands properly, and of course, worshipped idols. She was like...well, the Jamaican bobsled team. Yet, when Jesus points out her status as being something no higher than that of a dog, she seems content with that status and begs for whatever left-overs there might be from this "chosen" and preferred "holy" people of God. She'll take what she can get and will be grateful for whatever those "crumbs" from this "disappointing" messiah might be. Whatever healing or comfort that can be tossed her way--she'll take it.

The Olympics and society as a whole would seem to rail against what happens here. Begging for scraps? Hoping for whatever you can get? It seems to desperate. It seems so... lame. It seems so--imperfect. Yet... Jesus' response is that her faith is GREAT! Her willingness to humble herself and eat crumbs and scraps, and not be disappointed that she won't get the "full meal" so to speak, is rewarded!!

So I started then thinking of all those Olympic athletes that don't win medals. All those athletes that fall "short" of Olympic perfection. The ones that can smile and say, "I'm just happy to be competing in the Olympics," knowing they probably will never stand on that medal podium, compared to those who throw their medals down in disgust because it wasn't what they expected. It wasn't what their idea of perfection should be--they should have gotten gold, not silver or bronze.

Then you see the men's gymnastic team--ecstatic over... bronze? Well, they were like the Canaanite woman. They'll take what they can get. It was more than they expected and were happy to be bronze medalists.

We are all like that, too... recipients of the "crumbs" of God's grace. Bronze medalists. The expectation was that salvation would be for Israel and Israel alone--yet, this wasn't the case. Salvation wound up being for even the Canaanites, the "dogs" of society. Maybe we aren't all "gold medalists" when it comes to our Christian lives, but we certainly are humble recipients of a few crumbs and can be grateful for what we do actually receive by the mercy of God. It may not always be what we expect, or even sometimes what we want--but like those Olympians that state how happy they are to just be at the Olympics--no matter how the experience goes--we, too, should be grateful for what we receive from God--no matter how the experience goes. It sometimes may seem trite, and certainly seems like a hollow statement in the face of adversity, yet... perhaps we need to simply be searching for moments like the men who won the bronze medal--being excited and ecstatic over something wonderful and unexpected rather than wallowing when we have high expectations and are disappointed when we fall short.

I would have to say my life did not turn out the way I expected it to... it certainly wasn't the "gold medal performance" I had once hoped it would be. But something surprising and unusual has happened instead. Perhaps it wasn't what my idea of the "perfect" life would have been, but it has its own "golden" moments and like those Olympians who are happy just to be there, I'm happy just to be a part of this "life" experience--especially the unexpected parts. Because by being content with the "crumbs" of life, we ultimately get the "golden" prize of eternal life in communion with God.

God Forgive Me For What I Left Undone...

For a change, that's not a rote confession. It's an actual heartfelt, anguished plea to our Lord God almighty to forgive me for something horrendous that I left undone. I'm the type of person that best deals with their grief and anger and all those other emotions through writing - it's how I vent, and I have a lot to vent right now as I work through this horrific tragedy. So some of this may not make sense at the moment...and some of it may be misplaced anger and my desire to blame someone, anyone, for something that should have never happened... but I just keep asking myself: How could this have happened? How did we let this happen?

Sarah was always a little different, and I confess to being guilty of probably not reaching out to her the way I probably should have. I spoke to her frequently in the parking lot of our apartment building when she would be out walking her dog those first two years of seminary before she left for Alaska on internship. But beyond that, I never invited her in, I never took the time to sit down with her and find out what life was like for Sarah. When she didn't show up for graduation... I briefly wondered why she wasn't there, then immediately forgot about her again as I concentrated on myself. While I will continue to beg God's forgiveness, and I hope and pray her family can forgive me as well, for not reaching out more to her, not including her more in activities my friends and I would do together, I do wonder what changes will this bring about within the seminary community as a whole?

From early on in my seminary career, I always felt the community life was terrible at Luther and that more needed to be done to connect people to one another there. I admit, I tried for a brief period of time, but before long, I was overwhelmed by the task of trying to coordinate it myself, go to school full time, and work four jobs, so I didn't keep it up. But my experience at seminary was if it hadn't for my small group of friends who were constantly there to pick me up when I was down... I might have suffered the same fate as Sarah. Perhaps that's an extreme. But at the very least, I have no doubt that I would not have had the strength to continue going without my group of friends there to keep my chin up. No one seemed to ever care about the students and what we went through, of the reality of how much our faith lives were strained, our spiritual lives left shattered on the ground, the financial strains of tuition, health care, books, rent, daily living, etc. etc. It was as though many of our instructors wanted to shatter our faith. "Tear you down so we can build you back up" was a phrase I heard over and over again. Only... I must have missed the part where they built it back up. Our instructors for the most part were not interested in getting to know us as people and colleagues in ministry, it was a rare few who took time out to meet with us in his/her office, and that was usually at the student's prompting. Something I always found strange for a supposed faith community. Most of us had to go OUTSIDE the seminary to find some sort of spiritual fulfillment. And why is it we are expected to go out into the parish and magically create a "community" of faithful believers, when the pastors-to-be themselves were never a) trained to, or b) experienced it themselves?? We couldn't seem to create it amongst ourselves except in small pockets here and there for those of us who were fortunate to find some friends that we felt accepted by. You want to know how I made my very first friend at seminary? I bribed her. Yes... she needed help with her Greek homework, and not only did I gladly help her, but I bought her hot chocolate and bribed her to sit and talk with me because I was so desperate for some REAL human contact those first few weeks of seminary. Sad, I know. We're best friends now, but that's how it started out. What is wrong with this picture? I think what frightens me most about all of this is I have to wonder, had I not found my small group of friends who I could vent to, talk with and joke with - would I have wound up like Sarah? I'm no stranger to feelings of isolation and loneliness and the despair and depression that can come from feeling like there's no one who gives a damn. Add to that an environment that wants you to take everything you've ever believed about your faith and not only begin to question it, but down right contradicts it at times, and what potential do we have there for another Sarah? I can't tell you how many times my friends and I would sit around in the evenings and go, "You know... I'm really tired of being told every day that everything I've ever believed about the bible either isn't true or never really happened." We'd joke about it and bolster one another and tell one another - ignore it. Just get through it. Learn what you can that will be helpful in your ministry. But we struggled with those issues and things together. I made the mistake of figuring because she was married, she had her built in support. She had that person she could struggle with - forgetting that just because someone is married, doesn't mean they're getting the support and help they need within the context of ministry and the challenges we face there. Jesus sent the disciples/apostles out two by two - not all alone. Paul never went by himself from city to city. Ministry was not done in a vacuum where the messenger was in isolation. So why is that how we do it today? Why do we send people out into the middle of nowhere all alone?

I know most people are afraid to say this for fear of reprisal, and I admit, it's only my deep grief and emotions of despair, and yes, my own guilt over this that are probably giving me the courage to write this, because no, I haven't had my final synod approval interview yet or gone through assignment, so I run the risk of the "wrong" person reading this and my career as a pastor may be over... but at the same time - we are called to be advocates for the poor, the oppressed, the hurting and sick. Sarah was hurting and sick, and we were not there for her. If my condemnation of that gets me into trouble, then so be it. But I can only follow my conscience and it's screaming foul at the moment.

But how... HOW could a community that is supposedly being trained to be the hand of Christ fail so miserably at doing just that for one of our own? What can be done so that we don't have another Sarah in another few years who feels so alone and desperate in a community that is supposed to be the body of Christ, supposed to be building up faith not tearing it down, that he or she comes to the same ultimate conclusion Sarah did? We have gone terribly wrong somewhere - pushed people to the brink, maybe played God with their lives just one too many times of telling them to suck it up and "trust the process," and ignored their pain and struggles because they were just a little "different." I don't know what other things were going on in Sarah's life, what other issues were at play... but isn't that part of the problem? I never knew, because I NEVER ASKED. I know this was my lesson and wake up call that as much as I thought I was helping people who were struggling in the parish, I was ignoring my colleagues who are people, too... suffering from many of the same problems the people in our parish do. Just because we're in ministry doesn't mean we aren't susceptible to these thoughts of despair.

I don't want Sarah's death to mean nothing and to have nothing potentially good come from this unthinkable horrific tragedy. If this is was the wake-up call we needed - I heard it loud and clear. I just wish the price tag had not been so high. Will the rest of Luther hear it as well? Or will what usually happens at Luther happen again? Will it get brushed under the rug, forgotten about, and it's business as usual? We are in the business of giving people HOPE in the midst of despair. Who gave Sarah hope? Who pastored the pastor? Maybe someone did or tried that I'm not aware of. Like I said - I don't know, because I didn't bother finding out what was going on in Sarah's life. Maybe she had a friend and confident or therapist, or whoever... but I don't know because I didn't ask. And now I never can. God may forgive me, her family may one day forgive me... but it's going to be a while before I'm able to forgive myself. I'll never utter the confession, "God forgive me for the things I've done, and for the things I've left undone" ever the same again.

A God of Our Own Making

Let's face it... there are parts of scripture most of us find troubling--what kind of God wipes out all of humanity with a flood? What sort of God orders genocide? How can a God that seems capable of so much love and grace, also be a God of so much wrath and anger? While, on the one hand, I suppose I could use Rolf Jacobson's flippant, but very true, answer that God loves people so much that he gets angry when one person hurts another person and that anger is sometimes taken out in ways that thousands of years later we are able to look at and judge as not being very God-like. (Because after all, we are now "like" God in our knowledge of good and evil, and this is most definitely evil, is it not?) Let's toss aside the fact that none of us were actually there to witness what transpired or had any clue how truly "wicked" humanity might have been. None of us knew the full story or every circumstance behind these actions. Yet our more "enlightened" 21st century minds reason much more clearly than all previous generations of both Jewish and Christian faithful, and we now have the right and the responsibility to state these things simply could not be the work of God.

But then I read something like Matthew 16:23, when Peter has the very natural and human response of not wanting Jesus to be killed (seems like the right thing to say, doesn't it? "Jesus, I'd really rather you didn't die"), and Jesus' response is:

"Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things."

These seem like such harsh words against a man who only reacted the way any...well...human... would react when they hear that it is God's will that someone should die. And not just die--but die a horrendous death. We react very much the same way Peter does... God forbid! This must never happen!

And it is for that very reason that we struggle with the disturbing aspects of scripture, and are tempted to throw them out or say "this couldn't possibly be what God wanted," or "there is no way God would have willed this." Surely God was not behind or willing the death of all the first-born of Egypt! Because it rails against our human sensibilities, and it rails against the very things God himself has laid out--loving our neighbors, loving our enemies, not killing--all of those things that we love about God stand in stark opposition to those things that we find most appalling about God. God orders the killing of women and children? How awful! And I mean that sincerely. It is awful! We must somehow find a way to reconcile this text, or just ignore it. How can we do that? Shall we instead cling to authors and others who start pointing us in a decidedly different direction, claiming that well... maybe those things aren't really the word of God? Maybe those parts are just human interpretation of events that happened and are ascribing things to God that never were really God in the first place--in short, the Biblical authors are misrepresenting God. They have to be. We can't trust that the Word of God has been captured in such a way that it is able to reveal God truthfully because humans actually wrote it... not God. And indeed--when only God is perfect, it is impossible for anything, including scripture, to be perfect since scripture is not God, it is only God's revelation, God's reflection being sent out into the world to immediately be misunderstood by extremely fallible humans.

But now... what are we to believe then? Which parts of scripture are we going to adhere to and which parts of scripture can we toss aside? In short... what and who do we trust??

Ah... the sin of Adam and Eve--not trusting the word of God, but instead turning to listen to what the serpent had to say, which sounded MUCH more appealing, and which sounded like a much better deal than what God actually said. God says we'll die... the snake says no you won't... which would I rather believe? God's word says God wiped out large groups of people, and I don't like that much. So someone comes along and says that's OK, you shouldn't believe those parts because that isn't really what the God you've created in your own image would do.

But of course, how silly of me! I forgot - I can't trust the Adam and Eve story either, because it's most likely just a fable or folk-tale. In essence - I apparently can't trust anything the Bible says because the Bible doesn't portray my vision of who I want God to be... because I want God to be like...well... me. I want God to operate within my parameters of human understanding. I need God to be in my box, to play by the rules I want Him (sorry, I mean her, because God is like I am) to play by. I'm going to look at history instead and see how human beings most likely were picking and choosing which scripture to put into play. And yet... there's this problem. If it were solely human reason picking and choosing scripture, then human reason would have done away with the seemingly incongruent and bothersome parts of the text. Look at what we are currently trying to do! Either we make excuses for it and attempt to reconcile it in some way like the fundamentalists, or we go extremely liberal and just start ignoring that which makes us uncomfortable. Are we so arrogant as to think we're the ONLY ones in the past several thousand years who are suddenly recognizing some of these issues with scripture?

Perhaps I am being silly in paying attention to what Jesus has to say about how humans set their minds on human things, not divine things. Jesus probably never said any of that, either. In fact - the whole blooming Bible is probably just a delusion that was written by a bunch of crack-pots in order to control the masses, and anyone who follows its horrendous teachings (except for the few good ones that do please me, like love your neighbors - that's ok, you can follow that one) is just being narrow minded and ridiculous. And anyone who thinks that any of these other ideas that are being spouted are wrong and potentially dangerous - they're just scared and afraid they might discover the truth that what they've believed the Word of God to be is a farce and a lie. When Jesus says "I am the way, the truth, and the life..." that's not what he meant. The truth as claimed by Jesus is not really the truth. His "I am" claims that identify him as God... all part of an agenda by the author of John to stamp out opposing views of Jesus. Right?

So where do we find the Word of God? Inside ourselves? Trust our own intuition and our own ideas and our own vision of who and what God is? Trust our own reason and experience? Is that how this works?

I apologize for the sarcasm, but I couldn't help myself. These are the things we Christians must wrestle with. While questioning parts of the Bible is healthy, and wrestling with your faith is healthy - at some point faith has to enter into the equation. If we rely solely on reason and experience and our own sense of who and what we want God to be to be our only guiding principles, it's as Mark Allan Powell states, trying to sit on a two-legged stool. In order for that stool to stand properly... we need a third leg to stand on. We need divine revelation. We NEED scripture. Because some truth can only come through divine revelation. All the reason and experience in the world will never reveal God as God truly is. After all - if we look to nature alone for who and what God is, we will despair. Because everything dies. There is pain and suffering in the world. Unless we know that God has something to say about that, we must continue on with only our two-legged stool of reason and experience. And if we rely solely on reason and experience to dictate what we believe and don't believe in the bible--again, we've got a two-legged stool because we are not allowing scripture to be scripture. We are not allowing God's word to stand as God's word. We are attempting to reconcile or dismiss those parts of the bible we find uncomfortable and distinctly un-Godlike to our minds. We can't fathom that there might possibly have been some point, purpose, and meaning beyond our understanding for why God did some of the things He did or set forth some of the rules he did that don't fit in with our modern sensibilities. So instead... let's just say He didn't do them, because that makes us feel better about God.

There is an arrogance in this stance, however. That we are somehow more knowledgeable and more aptly able to represent who and what God is than these people thousands of years ago could. We surely would never state these things about God because we're arrogant enough to think we know that God would never do such a thing.

So at what point do we put our arrogance aside and instead have faith in what has been written and passed down as inspired revelation of God? Can we eventually TRUST that when scripture says it comes from God, that maybe it actually does come from God? "For all scripture is inspired by God." Can we believe this statement? No, not as a book that just dropped out of heaven or that God dictated... but to trust that God inspired a truthful representation of who and what He is, even if it isn't very palatable at times, and even when we humans mess it up and twist its meaning into something that it shouldn't be? Perhaps the scriptural representation of God falls short of fully comprehending and revealing every nuance of who and what God is--hence why scripture itself is not God--but gives us enough that we are able to begin to know that despite the parts that disturb us, we do have a God who has revealed himself most fully in the incarnation of Jesus Christ, to show us His heart, to show us his love that was previously so veiled and hidden. As Paul said, we see only dimly as though in mirror. We do not fully understand the ways of God. For even in Jesus, we still see God's disturbing attributes--we still see a violence inherent in his radical dealings with sin. For in seeing Jesus, we must always also see the cross. We cannot have a Jesus without the cross, which then means we cannot have a God who doesn't utilize the violent nature of mankind at times to accomplish his good will and work. We can't have it both ways--a Jesus who died a violent death but not have a God who doesn't utilize violence. The two stand in complete opposition to one another and denies the very nature and purpose of the cross itself.

We always run a risk with a hidden God, with a God who has not revealed every part of himself and has chosen fallible, screwed up humans to reveal himself through. That is what faith is about. Not total illogical "leaps of faith" in things that just are ridiculous, but in hearing the voices of many different people working both independently and in conjunction with another to reveal a very diverse and interesting God and actually believing what is said to be true. To hear one prophet confirm another prophet, to hear Jesus say, "I did not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill the law." That Jesus was not interested in changing scripture--because in Jesus' mind, scripture itself is fine as is and scripture is not the problem, but people's hearing and people's understandings of scripture is what needed to change.

So we have two sides to the same coin--we have those who wish to wield the abusive parts to pump themselves up, to shove it in people's faces and go "we're right, you're wrong." The people who pick and choose these more offensive texts to oppress and harm others. The flip side of that coin are the people who want to go the exact opposite direction and throw those parts out and cling only to the parts that make them feel good, that give them warm-fuzzy feelings about God.

We simply cannot deny that people's experiences are always at play when they read scripture. If they have come from an abusive home, the seemingly abusive aspects of scripture are extremely troubling, because God cannot be associated in any way shape or form with their abuser. This is totally understandable and I have a sympathetic view in such situations. Because can we really turn away from what seems to be the abusive nature of God and just sweep it under the rug like it doesn't exist? The consummate child abuser who abandoned his own son to die an excruciating death on the cross? That it was not only him allowing it, but in some respect actually saying it was somehow NECESSARY?

What can we say to this? How can one argue in the face of our human suffering and in the face of our own experiences that such a God should be allowed to exist in our consciousness? Shame on scripture and shame upon the writers of scripture for writing texts such as these...

Or was Jesus right after all? Is the fact that we have trouble with these texts precisely because they come out of our human experience and that is how we are informed by them? That we have our mind set on the human experience and on human understanding, rather than the unfathomable, radical, and sometimes just downright foolish and odd workings of the divine? That in the violence on the cross, salvation to all people came into being? That in the foolishness of it wisdom can be found? That God, by entering into human suffering and experiencing such things we humans experience on a daily basis--the abandonment of God, the painful existence that defines humanity--could possibly have been working some good out of that? And if God might have been working some good out of that, might he also been working some good out of the things we still fail to understand and comprehend and seem equally as violent and terrible?

I can't say I like many of these texts that portray God as being a genocidal tyrant--because I don't. But am I going to dismiss them as being unfaithful representations of God? Well, I can't really do that either. To do so would make me just as guilty as those who grab hold of these texts and elevate them above other parts of scripture.

For Jesus did not abolish scripture--not even the parts of scripture that we don't like very much. Not one jot or tittle has passed away. I have placed my trust in Jesus Christ and the only way I am able to know what this Jesus has to say to me is to read scripture. Scripture is the way in which God's word is revealed, imperfect though it may be because of the fact that nothing can capture God in His entirety, but can I come to these words of scripture and acknowledge that I don't fully understand everything that is in there? That those seemingly "evil" parts simply have to stand as those parts of God and of scripture that I cannot fully fathom? I think that's the only way to actually acknowledge that yes, I am a creature of God, not God himself, and His ways are not my ways, His thoughts are not my thoughts. (Isa 55:8) I set my mind on the things that are human, not on the things that are divine.