tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89067856425590264932024-03-13T11:00:27.759-07:00Rev. James HowellA blog by Rev. Dr. James C. Howell,
senior pastor of Myers Park United Methodist Church
in Charlotte, North CarolinaJames C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comBlogger212125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-68177233749611987862024-02-15T07:06:00.000-08:002024-02-23T18:14:30.730-08:00Thinking Out Loud: How United Methodists Read Scripture<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAm8eX4J02YrJAVPC1Be54UENv4P9_Zrr_RagfgNBI-kKicCD2MRqfUbBV0XoeXu-DeKc1Q3Vc3GCPQi8bxbY5yYcbZJUBqQRfhwSYEMb_VlE3g87XnHPbmwrbKqFfeMkjcNIClyhTDoApqFFHlAregvQnvnFzTC5yag3biIu3rGBkG-Te7XyPdcBZCZk/s634/RolandEMurphy.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="634" data-original-width="438" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAm8eX4J02YrJAVPC1Be54UENv4P9_Zrr_RagfgNBI-kKicCD2MRqfUbBV0XoeXu-DeKc1Q3Vc3GCPQi8bxbY5yYcbZJUBqQRfhwSYEMb_VlE3g87XnHPbmwrbKqFfeMkjcNIClyhTDoApqFFHlAregvQnvnFzTC5yag3biIu3rGBkG-Te7XyPdcBZCZk/s320/RolandEMurphy.png" width="221" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Sometimes I think of my years in ministry as
a long quest to share with others my love affair with the Scriptures. I’ve
always hoped people would see in me what I saw in my Old Testament professor,
Fr. Roland Murphy. What students of his recall is that he would read something
from the Bible, and then make a deep, guttural </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Hmmmmm</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">, like a bear having just swallowed a delicious hunk of meat.
The best thing about me is my abiding affection for this book.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How puzzling, slightly offensive but mostly
exasperating then to find myself and so many friends who share my love
characterized by those disaffiliating from our denomination as lacking
reverence for or taking a dim view of Scripture, or recklessly believing what
we wish while shoving Scripture aside, or resorting to twisted interpretations.
We United Methodists revere the Bible as the inspired Word of God. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gzVbt0th2dNarSxsdHyh8Nj-WdvzIcepgNWWJqRcG7aJ4TJIqgeSNpDv732wrq9eK1vKzU6TwEXCXA8zCZ5IxLiHRazNHZ8f8QIpVr-Ugarr4t7BblhBYXmzD-1CFXWGywCNm1N9L7Wc6FxhyxkudwwBj3CT6GtyePcaBxIpr9c7NDnC1lulyNZZM3Y/s1500/Watkin.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gzVbt0th2dNarSxsdHyh8Nj-WdvzIcepgNWWJqRcG7aJ4TJIqgeSNpDv732wrq9eK1vKzU6TwEXCXA8zCZ5IxLiHRazNHZ8f8QIpVr-Ugarr4t7BblhBYXmzD-1CFXWGywCNm1N9L7Wc6FxhyxkudwwBj3CT6GtyePcaBxIpr9c7NDnC1lulyNZZM3Y/s320/Watkin.jpg" width="213" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;"> We are honest, humble, and even hopeful as
we acknowledge that faithful Christians can and do disagree on how Scripture
speaks to us, the church and the world. Being fallen, sinful creatures, we
Christians have a nasty habit of reading our biases into the text; we have
blind spots, which is good reason to seek and delight in disagreement. We read,
and listen with humility, intense curiosity, wary of agendas, especially those
that mimic the political ideologies of the day. {Parenthetically, a new and
wise theology of how to interpret Scripture that spans the gap between
conservative and progressive biases – and is winning prizes now from both, is
Christopher Watkin’s brilliant <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Biblical
Critical Theory</i>.}</span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAOF56frp6b30BuFPLIFZ6HeXynB7YDnZbK5fw5GosOy1PUCMQpmvghRMsg0HW9hOGaC5PYGCcfFmaxPAvM7RtRiA_fgSpS6KBtsQYra4Dn7PlGaHxDXU6A7R5THYtH674_Gmo4rnkoxoUFU7DsY-MCdFHonwBG3QsXs8MRxaV1cG-OJJSA3W1lAAjWQ0/s1000/MarilynneRobinsonGenesis.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAOF56frp6b30BuFPLIFZ6HeXynB7YDnZbK5fw5GosOy1PUCMQpmvghRMsg0HW9hOGaC5PYGCcfFmaxPAvM7RtRiA_fgSpS6KBtsQYra4Dn7PlGaHxDXU6A7R5THYtH674_Gmo4rnkoxoUFU7DsY-MCdFHonwBG3QsXs8MRxaV1cG-OJJSA3W1lAAjWQ0/s320/MarilynneRobinsonGenesis.jpg" width="213" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;"> Many of us pastors were schooled to adopt a
“hermeneutic of suspicion.” For me, I have suspicions about how we’ve harmed
others in our spin on texts, and about how we may have mis-read things
unwittingly – or self-indulgently. Marilynne Robinson perceives a “hermeneutic
of self-protectiveness,” which is ultimately a “hermeneutic of fear,” a
“hermeneutic of other-ing,” which does not long for and is not open to fresh
winds of the Spirit.</span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3orFVV4a0zgzqg4b0pXY_8BVGgfbsp3VsCnMScm6-5MpkUk4DeEAirtpNKIhW0bU0NvsTmTh2eR_sJnHrfu6KGdaBR30r7It44Y8aK6PXIep3hEHi_ohZnaEFTnu696OZwSsvkqHtnjd8XycTX_1uRAhFwkF87o11_Q_aKHjBzeLvBFU0w5qR4zVA_Kk/s253/GregBoyle.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="215" data-original-width="253" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3orFVV4a0zgzqg4b0pXY_8BVGgfbsp3VsCnMScm6-5MpkUk4DeEAirtpNKIhW0bU0NvsTmTh2eR_sJnHrfu6KGdaBR30r7It44Y8aK6PXIep3hEHi_ohZnaEFTnu696OZwSsvkqHtnjd8XycTX_1uRAhFwkF87o11_Q_aKHjBzeLvBFU0w5qR4zVA_Kk/s1600/GregBoyle.jpg" width="253" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;"> Ours is a “hermeneutic of grace,” or at
least we strive for this. Like a Geiger counter seeking out good (Fr. Greg
Boyle’s image), we look for reasons to embrace, to encourage, to welcome any
and all into the family of God – which we see clearly as the heart of Scripture.
“There is no condemnation in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1). And so we never
weaponize the Bible. It is bread for the hungry. It is, as Luther envisioned,
the swaddling clothes in which the Christ child is to be found.</span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God gave us Scripture, not as a blunt
instrument of judgment, or a batch of escape clauses for modern people who want
to live as they wish. The Bible is an invitation to holiness, to the freedom
the Spirit gives us to be who we really are. How do we discern the Bible’s
perspective on this or that issue? The Bible, clearly, engages in conversation
with itself. We do our darnedest to weigh all of Scripture, Scripture
interpreting Scripture, to nose out the heart of it all, the big canvas, not
just one brushstroke.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the Bible’s conversation with itself, we
regularly notice a wariness of the Bible as a smorgasbord of rigid rules and
judgments passed. To ask <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How do we read
Scripture? </i>is actually to ask, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What
kind of Church is God asking us to be?</i> Many churches, over the centuries,
have assumed God is asking us to be the Moral Police of the world. We’re no
good at being the Moral Police, and truth be told, no one out there is waiting
for the church to dictate to them what is right and what is wrong. No one is
listening. Many out there will forever be alienated from such a church that
reads the Bible for such a purpose.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipcAR_6VInxwz1Fbg9Y95yftNYnLD1WWMBZqM6_3W2kbBGl8r4W_SNy8kQdajxH2i4gUUh2XbAQGLYTLtO3Yo51AlumYKLHAHmfaS2psLZ0DqZZIzArfTfkOArxBknTRN5nhibDAcc6HzmlWVAl8HSGdloRx217HhwOavETkDGdBavVOWapSismBJb4JU/s751/FindingHarmony.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="751" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipcAR_6VInxwz1Fbg9Y95yftNYnLD1WWMBZqM6_3W2kbBGl8r4W_SNy8kQdajxH2i4gUUh2XbAQGLYTLtO3Yo51AlumYKLHAHmfaS2psLZ0DqZZIzArfTfkOArxBknTRN5nhibDAcc6HzmlWVAl8HSGdloRx217HhwOavETkDGdBavVOWapSismBJb4JU/w200-h133/FindingHarmony.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> What kind of Church is God asking us to be?
The documentary, “Finding Harmony,” follows choral conductor David Brown as he
shows up in Springfield, Ohio, tacking up signs in windows saying “Come and
Sing With Us,” with date, place and time. He invites passers-by, the checkout
guy, the waitress, any and everybody. All kinds of people show up, old, young,
white, black, conservative, liberal. They sing – together. He gets them talking,
and people are surprised to find themselves listening to stories they’d not
heard from people like themselves, and sharing stories with former strangers.
They listen, they love, they sing – and they work on a Habitat house together.</span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God asks us to be a Church that joyfully
says “Come and Sing With Us,” a church that listens, shares, and digs into the
Bible together, not looking for ammunition, but a meal to be shared. This is
how we can reach the disenfranchised, the skeptics, the non-believers, the
jaded, the wounded. The Bible is all about finding them and bringing them to
the table, as Jesus tantalizingly portrayed things so marvelously in Luke 14.
It is only reading Bible well that will help us get beyond the polarization in
all those debated terms, like racism, inclusion, immigration. Scripture
unburdens us from the endless debating with the simple affirmation that, in
God’s realm, there are no debated people.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHAZdTvlpJ_JM5a1KiDyhrpiwkD1GPVwdr9_6JJGcmV-n2ATdpduHcLd90MerxbrH-ncIzLHWz8plLPp5iE2cm27FAokFX7QKEYKj-QxtTg1SRlST96czh5UHI7_Rl7jyfuBpfhxw4CGe_UJOUFhsn74_c2suGdkoOwzcI5QUJJWjBaJ0Emyo4ozMLe6Q/s268/ChristPantocrator2%20(2).jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="268" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHAZdTvlpJ_JM5a1KiDyhrpiwkD1GPVwdr9_6JJGcmV-n2ATdpduHcLd90MerxbrH-ncIzLHWz8plLPp5iE2cm27FAokFX7QKEYKj-QxtTg1SRlST96czh5UHI7_Rl7jyfuBpfhxw4CGe_UJOUFhsn74_c2suGdkoOwzcI5QUJJWjBaJ0Emyo4ozMLe6Q/s1600/ChristPantocrator2%20(2).jpg" width="268" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"> As Christians, we are blessed by listening carefully to how non-Christians read our texts. If I confer with a rabbi friend in sermon preparation, I'm always wiser. Then also, as Christians, we take Jesus as the key to our hermeneutic. What in Scripture is in sync with Jesus, who is the heart and embodiment of God, and what is out of sync? No genocide, no burning of adulterers, no passing judgment on others, all in Scripture - and why? Not because we don't like it, but because it's just so out of kilter with all Jesus was about.</span><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> We aren't fundamentalists, or literalists - although we try as best we are able to read a given passage as it was literally intended. Of course there are mistakes, dates, some misspelled names, and even theological confusions - which we know based on Scripture's own conversation with itself! </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBx68b8fK9eNtTwpRx2v-vyKS_MjvYBAIwRHHmdxvWCTHQqg_wrbIHQm0eLmYuQKU7E_iifwI_93Tk27eFtLHKGKY5iFqOs8cklo3yKBPo4BCxU5nEDQqPPWJjtqfhnLLKNDXR3_8cDVsrrlhyphenhyphenKftEhJLaMfHb8Jau4JIPbBvoTrLN0LHtIdV111SbXso/s425/RowanWmsBX.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="275" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBx68b8fK9eNtTwpRx2v-vyKS_MjvYBAIwRHHmdxvWCTHQqg_wrbIHQm0eLmYuQKU7E_iifwI_93Tk27eFtLHKGKY5iFqOs8cklo3yKBPo4BCxU5nEDQqPPWJjtqfhnLLKNDXR3_8cDVsrrlhyphenhyphenKftEhJLaMfHb8Jau4JIPbBvoTrLN0LHtIdV111SbXso/s320/RowanWmsBX.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> We United Methodists resonate with what Rowan Williams wisely wrote – that what is in the Bible is what God wants us to read and hear – which doesn’t mean Jesus is endorsing everything that every character in the story says or thinks. God is saying “This is how people heard me, saw me, responded to me; Where are you in this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We do not have to work on the assumption that God likes those responses.” Genocide, polygamy, slavery and the devaluing of women are all supported by voices in Scripture. But we know God doesn’t like those – not based on our feelings, but on the rest of and the heart of all of Scripture.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To the issue of the day: is LGBTQ+ inclusion
only possible if we set aside Scripture? Or do we welcome and bless them (or
affirm they are already blessed!) by our reading of Scripture? Conservative
rabbis, who read Scripture way more fastidiously than any Christians I know,
affirm same gender relationships based on the same book many Christians use to
debate and judge them. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For us, we state at the outset that we are
speaking of holy people striving to follow Jesus, and holy relationships of
commitment before God. We see the fruit of the Spirit on clear display in the
lives of our LGBTQ+ members and couples. We need one another in church, reading
Scripture together.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8iulcNMuLacC2FcR2eJgsRFfhkpcxrah7cbd2zIR0DXWe1M0QnA-aBqAdTv1hEfqzp4phgUldxtxhX5LjTrw9cAJT-tg9ljkxZuYk041Wp0URx2oOadF9gyq3TkaCVGbw_XwPtzP3RK26kAzTNAt97l2czmigg9G8jdurTzLBMbcuZKfL0v9C38WJH94/s1800/WIllieJennings.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8iulcNMuLacC2FcR2eJgsRFfhkpcxrah7cbd2zIR0DXWe1M0QnA-aBqAdTv1hEfqzp4phgUldxtxhX5LjTrw9cAJT-tg9ljkxZuYk041Wp0URx2oOadF9gyq3TkaCVGbw_XwPtzP3RK26kAzTNAt97l2czmigg9G8jdurTzLBMbcuZKfL0v9C38WJH94/s320/WIllieJennings.jpg" width="213" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;">All of Scripture leads us to a robust
theology of Creation, and a deep trust and delight in its diversity. Willie
Jennings (in his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Acts </i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">commentary)</span>: “Differences among
people do not occasion God’s anger but God’s delight... Difference is not an impediment for relationship , but the very stage on which
God will create a deeper and richer reality of communion with the divine life….
Pastors and church leaders have made themselves the high priests of
segregationist practices. They have settled for the love of their own people
instead of a love that creates a people.”</span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And he is careful to clarify that we aren’t
jettisoning holiness as the singular pursuit of life with God. What might the
Spirit reveal to us about what is holy and what isn’t? “Obedience must take
flight with the Holy Spirit into an uncharted world where distinctions between
holy and unholy have been upended, in a moment where purity is expanded to cover
what had been conceived as impure.” This is the project of the entire New
Testament, isn’t it?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s no avoiding the fact that the Bible
which we love so dearly was written on the other side of the planet from where
I live, and 2000+ years ago, in a very different culture. The average listener
to Paul, at the mention of homosexuality, would have thought of those Romans
who creepily endorsed older, wealthy men having a young slave partner. And, of course, some United Methodists would conclude this fits into Rowan Williams's category of things Bible writers simply heard wrongly. But if we are talking holy, committed relationships, then we are willing to err, humbly, on the side of hospitality.</span></p><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoaw5b7Gbi0COxFsXR5f7PGIssOIFeWdC6oIvxH7Uz7IKp8r6nC-ZXvTowzkeGUqwz_qM1WzQH3WlQMzLN9JGkqSWZ33QgtQdKiF3cSeO1Db9JfNZ8tzV-jj48xkUu0KJvFuA08n7Yut47BKlijT00h8ABvLtJCrwN_TyO4K0tPF8vu3umlSxV-hEJrrc/s1000/ChilcoteMultiplyingLove.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="647" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoaw5b7Gbi0COxFsXR5f7PGIssOIFeWdC6oIvxH7Uz7IKp8r6nC-ZXvTowzkeGUqwz_qM1WzQH3WlQMzLN9JGkqSWZ33QgtQdKiF3cSeO1Db9JfNZ8tzV-jj48xkUu0KJvFuA08n7Yut47BKlijT00h8ABvLtJCrwN_TyO4K0tPF8vu3umlSxV-hEJrrc/s320/ChilcoteMultiplyingLove.jpg" width="207" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;"> I suspect many, though not all United Methodists would resonate with the way Paul Chilcote summarizes things: “<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">W</span></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">ith regards to our siblings in the LGBTQIA+ segment of our
family, scripture reveals three things in particular. 1) All people, regardless
of their sexual orientation or identity, are God’s beloved. 2) Relationships
based on love among our siblings in the LGBTQIA+ community can be expressed in
sacredness, fidelity, permanency, and monogamy. These high standards apply to
all those created in the image of God. 3) As beloved children of God all
LGBTQIA+ siblings are invited to use their gifts to the fullest possible extent
in the embodiment of God’s vision of shalom. Just as in the case of women, the
doors to ministry in the life of the church should be opened to these faithful
siblings as well.” Such is our best, humblest and most hopeful reading, taking
hospitality in hermeneutics and ecclesiology as the indispensable key.</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p></div>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-80942930290530621602023-11-14T20:00:00.000-08:002023-11-16T05:19:22.644-08:00Uncantankerous Christians: a Reply to Marilynne Robinson<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_iWbBLKl22x5gtEHSWyD2rlJdcgTagF_EdDo2TWo5X4oPUUKKh1ceak26sKo_qS09HRHl8OLhcjqO066eriOHenK_WlGBmScNCOU-JVO1kkm-m6GrNS439_0XgJO0Ob6MlqRj-69w1wygBk-WQ9cLK1ktWwTcoe-u8B7N0HjtPbWAcsehbzaR1VS7oQ/s1500/MarilynneRobinsonEssays.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_iWbBLKl22x5gtEHSWyD2rlJdcgTagF_EdDo2TWo5X4oPUUKKh1ceak26sKo_qS09HRHl8OLhcjqO066eriOHenK_WlGBmScNCOU-JVO1kkm-m6GrNS439_0XgJO0Ob6MlqRj-69w1wygBk-WQ9cLK1ktWwTcoe-u8B7N0HjtPbWAcsehbzaR1VS7oQ/s320/MarilynneRobinsonEssays.jpg" width="213" /></a></div> <a name="_Hlk150151821"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"> Recently I’ve been devouring the great
novelist Marilynne Robinson’s brilliant and wise essays – including one in
which she laments the hijacking of the term “Christian” by the extreme, shrill,
far right “ranters and politicians.” </span></a><a name="_Hlk150151821"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">This newfangled version of religion is,
like most of our public chatter nowadays, vapid, vulgar, and even violent. It’s
not that Christianity has been watered down; it has somehow transmuted itself
into something nationalistic, militaristic, very white, angry and judgmental,
anti-immigrant and pro-guns. The poor are reviled, books are banned, and science
is ridiculed. Alternatives are greeted with a sneer.</span></a><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150151821;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKlOKFQbbROmpDsB5GvI89vYjn9btEP4FBscGIjyNirRjLxj1ZFdEySP1LRAKNgadDw_l-zbnltdNIoJ0AxOMONVCNv8ympY0AYOUPPMbYbNK52nelkekrvDXmZH5YX5g_tRJSWcJ4mJpc9pRXwSyti6ljDn1Vm-dS57AtfquRLq-7FUi84gfXHhsqR4/s1600/MarilynneRobinson.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKlOKFQbbROmpDsB5GvI89vYjn9btEP4FBscGIjyNirRjLxj1ZFdEySP1LRAKNgadDw_l-zbnltdNIoJ0AxOMONVCNv8ympY0AYOUPPMbYbNK52nelkekrvDXmZH5YX5g_tRJSWcJ4mJpc9pRXwSyti6ljDn1Vm-dS57AtfquRLq-7FUi84gfXHhsqR4/s320/MarilynneRobinson.webp" width="213" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;"> Robinson is puzzled, not just by this perversion of “Christian,” but
that “the old mainline,” the “learned and uncantankerous,” while objecting
strenuously to all this, are “unaccountably quiet about it. She suggests they
must feel lonely, and their inefficacy is obvious. She wishes they would speak
up.</span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150151821;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
a mainline guy who is uncantankerous, I suspect we are quieter than we should
be. Why? Is it a kind of courtesy toward others, thinking religion isn’t a
topic for pleasant dinner conversation? or a restraint on arrogance, a humility
that expects and finds wisdom all over the place, not only among those who
believe as we do? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150151821;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Let me be one to say out loud that we grieve the toxic travesty that
masquerades as Christianity. There are Christians, and Churches, and in large
numbers, that aren’t angry or cocky. We refuse to bow down to the idols of
political ideology. We care that, in our Bibles, the poor are never vilified or
blamed; the poor are blessed, and we are responsible to care for them and walk
with them. Immigrants, strangers, and refugees are never despised in the Bible;
ours is to welcome, help, share and understand. We treasure life in the womb,
and are passionately committed to what unfolds after birth – and for all. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150151821;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“All” seems to be one of God’s favorite words, if the Bible is any
indication – as is the word “with.” God is with us. We are to be with others,
not against them. The “ranters and politicians” Robinson worries about want
power to impose their agenda, and they will do anything to stay in power. Voter
suppression is a weapon for the far right to stay in power, as is gerrymandering.
Show a gerrymandering map to a child, and she will laugh. Lines aren’t drawn to
bless all. Lines are zigzagged like a slippery salamander so the gerrymanderers
might cling to power. The Christians who forged this country wanted a
representative democracy and a balance of powers, not curtailing who gets a say,
and never concentrating power on any one person.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150151821;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>God does not gerrymander. God does not look down and draw a squiggly
line: “These guys are in. Those are out. These get the blessings. But nope, not
those over there.” God’s map is deep and wide, including and empowering, not
suppressing, all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150151821;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How can we be sure that mainline, uncantankerous Christianity is truer
than that of the ranters and politicians? Noting the agenda of the far right,
Robinson wryly declares “I am moving toward the conclusion that these
Christians, if they read their Bibles, are not much impressed by what they find
there.” Jesus wanted swords put down. But they are sure Jesus and his disciples
would carry automatic firearms and thus avoid his violent end. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150151821;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doesn’t
the Bible say “If you have the world’s goods, and see someone in need, but
close your heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him?” “The Samaritan
is your neighbor.” “Love your enemy; turn the other cheek.” Robinson reflects
on the Bible’s ideas that “the first will be last” and “judge not,” and the
company Jesus kept, she can only conclude that “We have it on good authority
that prostitutes and sinners might well enter heaven before us. It is difficult
to respond to this with a heartfelt Amen if one has found comfort in despising
people in whom Christ clearly finds great value.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150151821;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God
gave us the Bible, assuming we’d be willing to let it correct our ideological
confusions and our personal delusions. The push to shift funding from public
schools to private Christian academies? Isn’t it truly Christian to want every
child to become as educated as possible, not just Christian children? Fretting
over how history is taught? Aren’t the lessons of the marvelous achievements
and also the embarrassing flub-ups together what we all need to learn and
ponder so we might rise up and improve not just ourselves but all of us and the
world? Bible people fear no knowledge, trusting our leader’s promise that the
truth will set us free. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150151821;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There are many Christians and Churches who delight in human difference,
delighting in God’s creative wizardry as a gift to liberate us from narrow-mindedness
and to make us wise. We aren’t terrified by other religions, believing God has
strewn wisdom all over the place, and trusting that when all religions are
their truest, best selves, antagonisms fade, and peace might just happen. We
know what we don’t know. We are curious. We strive to be hospital, humble, and
grateful. Our biases aren’t enshrined, but suspect. Sacrifice for others is
holy. We are neither angry nor judgmental, which is to say we are not entirely
given over to our fears. We believe beauty matters, that love is always the way
to life. We are Christian. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-61933470728590285002023-05-15T05:48:00.002-07:002023-05-15T05:48:17.847-07:00On Being a Patient: My 2 Week Hospital Stay<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakvPb-z-ZDZOCiPmFRw-t4a4MwZtDGimIQIfUod_JsF5p4sFuS3Hlp66gTYpCvCtxzJfY-FStvpsk7Eu83xu6ApVAye-8TxDi04Rq7PGt4iQMij9-6vSO7TbNthVS1xTJ00UOTt5SHIkeGySLsoUKcjotDNu8FYoeUKoqkha1x9hW95fIRNJY5vFy/s1200/PresbyterianHospital.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="1200" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakvPb-z-ZDZOCiPmFRw-t4a4MwZtDGimIQIfUod_JsF5p4sFuS3Hlp66gTYpCvCtxzJfY-FStvpsk7Eu83xu6ApVAye-8TxDi04Rq7PGt4iQMij9-6vSO7TbNthVS1xTJ00UOTt5SHIkeGySLsoUKcjotDNu8FYoeUKoqkha1x9hW95fIRNJY5vFy/s320/PresbyterianHospital.png" width="320" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;"> Given my profession, a place I often go is
the hospital, where I’ve spent countless hours and much love, care and tears.
Never though, until April 19, did I find myself admitted as a patient inside one.
Instead of ministerial garb, there I was in the blousy green gown with a gaping
opening in the back. Hard to discern whether to cling to your tattering shreds
of dignity, or just surrender to No shame.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
got my start in life in a hospital as a patient, sort of, if a baby in the
nursery counts. And I may make my exit out of life in a hospital too. Such odd
places, life and death, survival and decline mingled hauntingly in a single
institution. I recall as a young pastor holding hands with an older gentleman
as he breathed his last. Just as the nurse declared “He’s gone,” the violins
(was it Brahms?) on the loudspeaker announced a baby had just been born. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">C’est la vie</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tuesdays with Morrie</i>, Mitch Albom tells
of the day that his friend and teacher Morrie Schwartz was told he had Lou
Gehrig’s disease. “Outside, the sun was shining and people were going about
their business. A woman ran to put money in the parking meter. Another carried
groceries.” Morrie was stunned by the normalcy of the day around him.
“Shouldn’t the world stop? Don’t they know what has happened to me?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not
that you want others to know. In our culture, which idolizes health, progress,
and quick fixes, there’s almost a sense of embarrassment that you haven’t just
whipped this thing. I was in the hospital way longer than anybody anticipated,
and I could feel both concern but also shock that I wasn’t home quickly. Tells
us a lot about how good modern medicine is, and about how we therefore blanch
over the idea of extended suffering.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve
always loved hospital visitation, that holy chance to represent God’s church to
people under duress; I knew never to stay long (rule of thumb learned day 1 in
seminary). As a patient in some misery, I found myself super honored someone
would stop by. But I could muster zero hospitality energy, and I asked Lisa to
hold folks at bay. I texted one visitor later to apologize for being rude. She
understood. I hope. A couple of visitors just poked their heads in and waved. I
felt so loved! – and relieved.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwNoYtSX-RSqi_YQ5hMWwRdxjeYl4ghCEHsauGrfnpyq1KMeiougGwlrk1OzlSoM5MsDjcVHIpQ3DZ7_w1ELeSmKxTSsPWVGMz1yoQ84sUJmnkzNn2Dvv9ufZ_R0ay3784AXCZr1Rit2lCgj-iErDTjyhAFeNuY_RlM34AW0iQozO-a8NodZ6bIg7/s400/O'DonohueBlessSpace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="267" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwNoYtSX-RSqi_YQ5hMWwRdxjeYl4ghCEHsauGrfnpyq1KMeiougGwlrk1OzlSoM5MsDjcVHIpQ3DZ7_w1ELeSmKxTSsPWVGMz1yoQ84sUJmnkzNn2Dvv9ufZ_R0ay3784AXCZr1Rit2lCgj-iErDTjyhAFeNuY_RlM34AW0iQozO-a8NodZ6bIg7/s320/O'DonohueBlessSpace.jpg" width="214" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> What
to make of God and a long hospital stay? A lovely poem about illness by John
O’Donohue speaks of “a courageous hospitality toward what is difficult, painful
and unknown.” On day 1, tethered to equipment and flat on a bed, I thought, “I’ll
pray a lot.” It’s embarrassingly difficult to pray when you’re fending off
constant nausea and a splitting headache – and various professionals zigging
and zagging in and out to run tests, poke, stick, listen, prod. I veered quite
a few times toward utter despair. I do know enough to recall that the Bible is
full of despair. It’s not something that mortifies Jesus. He is very close to
us in our despair.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One
of those professionals turned a light bulb on in my soul. A new nurse
introduced himself: Martin. He asked how I was. This was at my nadir, the worst
day and maybe hour ever. I said “I’m despairing that I’m not getting better. I
may never get better.” He said, “You’ll get better.” I asked, “Is that a
promise?” He laughed and said, “No, it’s medicine.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two
things about that. We talk a lot about hope, or faith, as if it’s something in
us we have to do, and strongly if possible. But we hope in God, we believe in
God. It’s not our earnestness and positive thoughts about God, but God that
saves us. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
then: medicine. We pray for cures. And God knows I might have prayed for more
sick people in my lifetime than anyone you’ve ever met. God heals most often
through the smart, hard-working, valiant professionals we call doctors, nurses,
the IV team, the X-ray and CT scan people who are God’s handymen, delegates,
worker bees, elves… so don’t go as far as you can go with medicine and then ask
God to overcome what they can’t fix. God is already there when after your
physical, the internist orders up an extra test. God is even in you, God’s
delegate, in your body, the Temple of the Holy Spirit: when you feel pain or
discomfort (as I did to start all this), it’s God saying “James! James! I wired
you with these warning signals! Go see my people down there who can help!” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have a friend who heard I was laid low, and said “God sure has a way of slowing
you down.” I can’t think for a moment God thought “James is just wearing
himself out being so busy! I’ll jerk this colonic volvulus thing in his gut,
and then he’ll cool his jets for a while.” But there is a simplification, a
cutting to the core of what really matters. O’Donohue’s poem suggests illness
might become “a lantern to illuminate new qualities emerging in you,” and that
this light might “release whatever has become false in you.” Once it became
evident I’d be in the hospital for quite a few days, and I’d emerge sub-par
whenever I got out, I cancelled a week of busy things to do in about ten
minutes. Important and urgent, some of these things! But all tumbled rapidly
off the table of what really matters – as did trips to Colorado and Peru
planned for my sabbatical. Funny how little they mattered in the face of a
health crisis!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
me, and I pray I can cling to this more zealously than I clung to my last shred
of dignity being prodded in that green gown, it’s understanding what really
matters – that is, what it is to be human. To be human isn’t to make mistakes.
To be human isn’t to consume or maximize fun. My fellow human temporary
boarders in the hospital? Not one of us wanted to be there. Yet everyone one of
us very much wanted to be there. Like life on earth: it’s a pilgrimage, we’re
passing through – but gosh, it’s such a cool space. And it took me a week to
realize I didn’t know the political or religious affiliation of any other
patient or professional. Lovely. Calming. Healing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> We
are alive in these bodies. It’s precarious, always – which is what makes it
such a treasure. I’m here. My wife and kids are hovering nearby. Life is good.
Life is hard. Life is… life. I’m a person who matters, if only in this small
space to not many people. Which is why I made it a point to ask every
professional her or his name – and where are you from? No one responded with
merely a city or state. Always a story. So many stories: people with jobs, but
dreamers, lovers, with their own issues and gifts and glories. I might just
wear this hospital wrist-band forever to remind me of just that. Being human.
That’s all God asks of us. That’s all God asks us to ask of one another.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-87684867005641888722022-12-12T07:07:00.004-08:002022-12-12T10:06:22.514-08:00To my Disaffiliating Friends: Don't Believe What You've Been Told<p> <span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">I was stunned, then I just shuddered and
sighed the other day when I read an email from a member of a disaffiliating
Methodist church in another part of the country, hurling ferocious and false
accusations at me for staying United Methodist. The surprise is that this is
someone I know, who’s been in my church for worship, and even went to Israel
with me 13 years ago.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It began “We thought you were a believer who
preached the word and accepted Jesus as the divine son of God. But after
learning you’re still in the United Methodist Church, we are shocked that you
now believe Scripture is not the Word of God.” It went on to express disdain
that I don’t accept Christ as my Savior and that I deny there’s a Holy Spirit, and
that I don’t have any moral standards – and on and on, at great length.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I share this, and my response to this
friend, because it is a witness to why some Methodist churches are being duped
into disaffiliating – and it’s just plain wrong to hurl mud at fellow
Christians period, much less for what is a fabrication. I replied, “You know
me, a real live United Methodist pastor who from your own experience is deeply
rooted in the Scriptures. Yet you’ve swallowed the misinformation and
caricatures being spread by those who are recruiting churches to disaffiliate.
You’ve concluded I’m not a believer, I don’t lift up Scripture as the Word of
God, and I deny the divinity of Jesus. False, false, and false. The Holy Spirit
does not guide Christians into bogus, malicious ideas about other Christians.” I might have added that I know hundreds of United Methodist pastors, and I can't name one of them who doesn't take Scripture as of God, or denies the divinity of Christ or that there's a Holy Spirit - or that there are no moral standards.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trying to be gentle but clear, I suggested
that the only place such misinformation might have come to them was their own disaffiliating
Methodist church. Even knowing me, the emailer didn’t ask what I believe or if I’d changed, but
simply parroted what had been spoonfed – so all I can conclude is that this
well-known disaffiliating church teaches a smug, judgmental way of behaving,
which is not of God or any moral standard that qualifies as Christian.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_TWPMKQB9KLRwPNgm7MxXkiFSlYbXvBU9XeFyTUcBZk-y8SqmKKkvxsoG1V9D7ducvvIMi13esezqq69SdeeceKX26b0Tm0e8jZ_gDVsH5ycHyAKm_yYB_gsvmBqLGt-t18oVU4UTMk-x1UQ4q-gyrFVns64GCVM8MCpI5VRzpgW7nCcNEmp1WXU-/s293/DankerBook.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="196" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_TWPMKQB9KLRwPNgm7MxXkiFSlYbXvBU9XeFyTUcBZk-y8SqmKKkvxsoG1V9D7ducvvIMi13esezqq69SdeeceKX26b0Tm0e8jZ_gDVsH5ycHyAKm_yYB_gsvmBqLGt-t18oVU4UTMk-x1UQ4q-gyrFVns64GCVM8MCpI5VRzpgW7nCcNEmp1WXU-/s1600/DankerBook.webp" width="196" /></a></span></span></div><span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Near the end of my friend
Ryan Danker’s very fine book, <i>Wesley and the Anglicans: Political
Division in Early Evangelicalism</i>, he tells how in 1764, John Wesley wrote a
letter to 40 or 50 clergymen, who were divided on issues, challenging those Methodists
who were at odds with one another to “speak respectfully, honourably, kind of
each other; defend each other’s character; speak all the good we can of each
other.”<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, if any disaffiliators are reading: stop
the libel. Stop the falsehoods. Stop the misinformation. Stop the logical
fallacy of finding some United Methodist somewhere who said something awry, and
then inferring that, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aha, that’s United
Methodism!</i> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if you’re a United Methodist who’s
sticking around, don’t get too smug either. Our sisters and brothers who are
disaffiliating are more like us than we realize: operating out of hidden fears,
we all rush to judgment against those who aren’t us. Wesley could be a harsh dude,
but he was right on what God asks of us. We don’t assault one another’s
character. We defend, we speak respectfully, always. And we always tell what really is the truth, and if we don't know, we just hush.<o:p></o:p></span></p>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-85683954421660243832022-12-10T17:53:00.011-08:002023-03-24T05:21:23.070-07:00Pilgrimage to Turkey, September 2023<p><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Join me as we return with yet another group to visit ancient Asia Minor, modern Turkey,
the historic birthplace of worldwide Christianity! We’ll visit 6 UNESCO World
Heritage sites, take in stunning landscapes and architectural wonders, and
delight in Turkish food and culture.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><b>September 17-29,
2023</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><i> {We are still going! The earthquake, the death toll and the suffering for the survivors is an unspeakable horror. Travellers stimulate the economy - which they need desperately now - and the vast majority of this huge country was physically untouched by the catastrophe.}</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Cost (as of today,
could fluctuate a little due to flight variables): <b>$4,444</b>.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>$750 single supplement, and $545 for a 2
night extension in Istanbul.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-- includes flights (US to Turkey,
and short flights within Turkey), hotel, breakfast and dinner daily (almost), guide,
driver, tips and taxes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEE1GddlRExgkCryU5XjASu2aXDmw_v_DJEFzJ2_yST-5Er-d4T7qha_m_3m3Sf1zBw2WSdjgxz5SnFrMv1snFMqDy-pPO9cUpodQ-7r8NmcE_lUwkdIMyMubwZUf3e2eVDNLCUTqhdlYkWfyx1h36HOxv4kXh3XWwqBDpKHum0f0Arl-wG_l5yPPz/s2415/DSC_0496.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2415" data-original-width="2090" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEE1GddlRExgkCryU5XjASu2aXDmw_v_DJEFzJ2_yST-5Er-d4T7qha_m_3m3Sf1zBw2WSdjgxz5SnFrMv1snFMqDy-pPO9cUpodQ-7r8NmcE_lUwkdIMyMubwZUf3e2eVDNLCUTqhdlYkWfyx1h36HOxv4kXh3XWwqBDpKHum0f0Arl-wG_l5yPPz/s320/DSC_0496.jpg" width="277" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Our guide will be <b>Gülin
Pazaroğlu</b>, who has become a treasured friend to the Howells and others in our
church family! She is an extraordinary guide and a great friend. You'll love her! </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> Our itinerary will be different from any other, beginning in the
far east and heading west. We begin in:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDSf_Pt5o7WiNQgK3o_xO7678k1_MhQeY-lcpSP4Gl1AGYKzig6RrtxyuE6cJnXt8vR6mQ1iovioyWwoIRhHw1e9oGCQd8mNn8rHBHC4BquTYhpQjLn7bhawly1xXOxfroK6U5RT7c33Lq0aMCq-vKeyTKYLsBs_aT1oy1dK6f1Nh8BYvuEIQBh-T6/s1536/Saint-Peter-Cave-Church-Antioch-1536x1024.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1536" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDSf_Pt5o7WiNQgK3o_xO7678k1_MhQeY-lcpSP4Gl1AGYKzig6RrtxyuE6cJnXt8vR6mQ1iovioyWwoIRhHw1e9oGCQd8mNn8rHBHC4BquTYhpQjLn7bhawly1xXOxfroK6U5RT7c33Lq0aMCq-vKeyTKYLsBs_aT1oy1dK6f1Nh8BYvuEIQBh-T6/w272-h181/Saint-Peter-Cave-Church-Antioch-1536x1024.webp" width="272" /></a></b></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b> </b>Originally, we'd planned to begin in <b>Antioch</b><span>, th</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">e cradle of Christianity in Acts. We explore the ancient
“cave church” of St. Peter, and other biblical era remains, staying at the
Museum Hotel. The cave church is just fine, as is the hotel - but the rest of modern Antakya was devastated by the earthquake. This is the one place we sadly won't be able to visit - sad for the people there way more than for ourselves.</span><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> So we will begin instead in </span><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;">Tarsus</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">, the birthplace of Paul, and <b>Seleucia</b>, the port where Paul and Barnabas sailed on mission. Then to:</span><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="TR" style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-ansi-language: TR;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9UbjsGyu5K9G3o3Adp-oZ0DuhFRA1ei2XZr7Mgx_Gd7CW9o2MyApn-wTe7x7nYdFswFDHdlOEgjPTVsPDrIlWPuHwth3cT0-WjzVYOFZK5UnYTqSv1KR882U8d6np_zuAhatsHm9ExIATLmPWkaFx-ouQrmxA-Ykt1Gb7xby5QKYvWrwatlbQywb3/s1330/Gobeklitepe.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="1330" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9UbjsGyu5K9G3o3Adp-oZ0DuhFRA1ei2XZr7Mgx_Gd7CW9o2MyApn-wTe7x7nYdFswFDHdlOEgjPTVsPDrIlWPuHwth3cT0-WjzVYOFZK5UnYTqSv1KR882U8d6np_zuAhatsHm9ExIATLmPWkaFx-ouQrmxA-Ykt1Gb7xby5QKYvWrwatlbQywb3/w252-h132/Gobeklitepe.jpg" width="252" /></a></b></div><b> Urfa</b><span lang="TR" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> (ancient
Edessa, the cultural center of early Christianity), taking time to visit
Gobekli-Tepe, Zeugma and Gaziantep, among the most astonishing archeaological
finds ever, rewriting all we’ve known about the early history of humanity. Then
on to:</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwmHvm9yrHR1eTFLF8gp9j7sWC5ChPEt4ms3RO7FsmyuGULYJmQSA8TrfJoIQVP3-tIMY9Khi0fAx1GASyniLioNRr4IRfgrpPlqNxmU9gXzKiKYVxDffq8miyOPPXV7ftvGC0LRsMlFL5y8nIZ2_2-XojrJHO18Hzh3DOVAdHmJbFMrIQIJV0BDZj/s4608/Cappadocia-1050-2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4608" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwmHvm9yrHR1eTFLF8gp9j7sWC5ChPEt4ms3RO7FsmyuGULYJmQSA8TrfJoIQVP3-tIMY9Khi0fAx1GASyniLioNRr4IRfgrpPlqNxmU9gXzKiKYVxDffq8miyOPPXV7ftvGC0LRsMlFL5y8nIZ2_2-XojrJHO18Hzh3DOVAdHmJbFMrIQIJV0BDZj/w265-h176/Cappadocia-1050-2.jpg" width="265" /></a></b></div><b> Cappadocia</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">, the geological wonderland, with cave
churches; the home of the Cappadocian Fathers, the wisest of early
Christianity’s leaders. We’ll stay at Cappadocia Estates, an unforgettable
venue. After a stop in picturesque <b>Aphrodisias</b>,
one of ancient Rome’s grandest cities, we’ll make our way to:</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtkPuNE_KAJX8FLMAPvNp1kvPz-sijyit_J9H-6r2eccO4Bo4kzg27P1Kv52gNf60FPJOVPHET-bYNICQUr8aZzb5RT9VHMEm3xqENK9omcDvMPFsoSFoKPdEZigHSbvKVQ7aaB1k9JwNJt8ZiXBpt1ajJ5NsWXk-Pkti04hyZtFIL-btyTLAcQm4/s2690/DSC_0911.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1716" data-original-width="2690" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtkPuNE_KAJX8FLMAPvNp1kvPz-sijyit_J9H-6r2eccO4Bo4kzg27P1Kv52gNf60FPJOVPHET-bYNICQUr8aZzb5RT9VHMEm3xqENK9omcDvMPFsoSFoKPdEZigHSbvKVQ7aaB1k9JwNJt8ZiXBpt1ajJ5NsWXk-Pkti04hyZtFIL-btyTLAcQm4/w266-h170/DSC_0911.jpg" width="266" /></a></b></div><b> Pamukkale</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">, the visually stunning calcite deposits, with the healing
waters of thermal baths, right next door to <b>Hierapolis</b> and <b>Laodicea</b>,
excavated cities once visited by Paul, and recipients of the Book of Revelation..
We’ll stay at the lovely Doga Thermal Hotel. Then, with a stop at <b>Sardis</b> (another of the “7 cities of
Revelation”), we’ll get to:</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOIL4Ce9H9m9Y030F3MNF6hkjImPF-WvfDXneZrs0RdXn9I688-kwl8X_0vJ1lxrA8QDc8mtqCi9p-azOpgbuxV8JH9B11QkIJgt_9-d70RFOQKSZIFK8LA8JkoCAIhii6bMfnL9s-s1WNkWprQg5PRjaP1scUOCVQwatDFKl61zFskmKnXvKaZsRU/s4608/DSC_0752.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4608" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOIL4Ce9H9m9Y030F3MNF6hkjImPF-WvfDXneZrs0RdXn9I688-kwl8X_0vJ1lxrA8QDc8mtqCi9p-azOpgbuxV8JH9B11QkIJgt_9-d70RFOQKSZIFK8LA8JkoCAIhii6bMfnL9s-s1WNkWprQg5PRjaP1scUOCVQwatDFKl61zFskmKnXvKaZsRU/w273-h182/DSC_0752.jpg" width="273" /></a></b></div><b> Ephesus</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">, the crown jewel of Turkey, where Paul preached and was
imprisoned, where John and Mary lived out their days, the site of one of the
Wonders of the Ancient World, the Temple of Artemis, and its famous library.
Finally, we come to:</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-wSvN9rs_WuOEVi8R1ZA-QUAklN5-eIF_VRNcrHskMan9a080livLbwIhW6DBSZoJvjUkjxvF3d5szrSjrWWdjkO1EQygU6P5pAsM0J932kbOeegDIhhB8hfYKLnlZciFkIMBNMJfxHpjqcrMklOKdLUJc5JVhu9RziJ-o4c5JhjMevuLXUoNrqA/s4608/DSC_0265.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4608" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-wSvN9rs_WuOEVi8R1ZA-QUAklN5-eIF_VRNcrHskMan9a080livLbwIhW6DBSZoJvjUkjxvF3d5szrSjrWWdjkO1EQygU6P5pAsM0J932kbOeegDIhhB8hfYKLnlZciFkIMBNMJfxHpjqcrMklOKdLUJc5JVhu9RziJ-o4c5JhjMevuLXUoNrqA/w280-h186/DSC_0265.jpg" width="280" /></a></b></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> Istanbul</b>, ancient Constantinople,
which replaced Rome as capital of the empire, the home base of the Church for
centuries, literally littered with great churches and mosques. This will be a
shorter than usual visit, just a day - which is all many devote to Istanbul anyhow. The beautiful Chora church is closed, and the crown jewel, the Hagia Sophia, has scaffolding and covers over the Christian mosaics... which will be the way it is for years to come.</span><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> *** To learn more or to apply to join this pilgrimage, <a href="mailto:james@mpumc.org">email me at james@mpumc.org</a>. </span></div><div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p></div></div>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-53238914558063984232022-12-01T05:11:00.002-08:002022-12-01T06:16:07.443-08:00Christ was born!... so Methodists could vote?<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> <span> </span><span>This morning, I woke up remembering how
often I’ve said “A virtue of Methodism is it’s not in our DNA to wake up in the
morning and think ‘We’re right, and everybody else is wrong’ – and how within
Methodism, we can disagree without killing each other, or getting a divorce.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span> </span><span>This recollection probably drifted into my
head because last night, like so many nights in recent weeks, I went to bed
grieving questions that had come my way about some Methodist church or another
ramping up to a vote on whether to disaffiliate from the United Methodist
Church. When I hear this, I shudder, and try then to recall the humorous truth
of a clergy friend of mine who will snap a photo of the crowd during an
especially tedious, cantankerous and dull denominational meeting, and text it
to me across the room with the caption, “Another unintended consequence of the
resurrection.” I saw a Facebook photo of church I love holding hearings to help
them decide. Not what Jesus had in mind.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span><span style="font-family: georgia; mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhex9HYQDueBmTrYNkw__tUUdOojTQtNMkl5YrC6-24VEkrF2ggv4cL9fgDn55j0VfqL5SEs-9B_09lJjOlREY7opsoevW2S_q86-9OlzcSu_mECNsF-i-QugJ16p9NyligeBMGUqJrZsPI0Q9H-DjcSiafY_xZ4GkjQUugUUFJTaqXTXyT_sh88au_/s1024/RembrandtAdoration.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="841" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhex9HYQDueBmTrYNkw__tUUdOojTQtNMkl5YrC6-24VEkrF2ggv4cL9fgDn55j0VfqL5SEs-9B_09lJjOlREY7opsoevW2S_q86-9OlzcSu_mECNsF-i-QugJ16p9NyligeBMGUqJrZsPI0Q9H-DjcSiafY_xZ4GkjQUugUUFJTaqXTXyT_sh88au_/s320/RembrandtAdoration.jpg" width="263" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> An unintended consequence of the
resurrection? or since it's Christmas, of the incarnation? Jesus came so we could… vote? Zealously, I
advocate voting – in the United States. In the church, it’s hard to imagine a
more destructive activity. Quakers, and a great many other Christian bodies,
don’t vote. They discern. And the kicker here is: <i>United Methodists don’t have
to vote. And shouldn’t vote</i>. “Somebody told us we need to vote.” You don’t, and
if they told you this, or recruited you, they are well-meaning, but misguided.
If your church is gearing up for a vote, you can and should back up, take a
deep breath, and not forge forward into what will inevitably be a church
division – the worst conceivable witness to a skeptical world, not what Jesus
had in mind when he came into Mary’s womb or went to the cross.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An analogy: Lisa and I have stayed married
for 36 years. What if, for Christmas, we entertained speakers on the virtues of
divorce (“I finally found the love of my life,” “No more socks on the floor”)
vs. staying married (“He’s getting creaky but he’s a dear”) – and then we took
a vote on whether to aim for 37 years. Thankfully, we don’t have to vote. We
have disagreed with one another on a great many issues (as has our church) all
along. What I find, with her, is that when it gets tense and I am sure I am
right, I quite often am wrong. Being right is way overrated anyhow. As best I
can tell, it only hurts the other person, and puffs up my ego.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some say to me “We have to draw a line!”
Did Jesus say this? Here’s maybe the single most important reason not to vote
to disaffiliate: at the 2008 General Conference, I spoke from the floor and
said "We have for decades declared that ‘We do not condone the practice of
homosexuality.’ This has not prevented one person from being gay. It has,
though, alienated tens of thousands not just from our church but from <i>any</i>
church." Want to talk about an unintended consequence of the resurrection or
incarnation? The question isn’t <i>Who’s right?</i> but, as in my marriage, <i>Who’s
hurt? </i>I meet them all the time: people who used to go to church, don’t and won’t
now, and the first or second reason they give is because the church is
judgmental, and specifically because they judge and exclude gays.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those who lobby churches to disaffiliate
argue “It’s not about LGBTQ inclusion.” I’ve been wrong in saying they are
wrong. I’ve been right, in that Methodists have strongly disagreed and stayed
together over dozens of huge issues – but it’s this one that has created congregational
votes. And yet, they <i>are</i> right. It’s about how to be the Body of Christ in this
moment in history, when division is little more than a mirror image of what’s
going on in our country politically. Instead of healing America, voting
Methodists are letting themselves be ruined by America.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On sabbatical several years ago, I found
myself in a pub, sitting next to a guy. I asked what he does in life. “I’m a
shepherd.” This piqued my attention, so I quizzed him about shepherding,
including this question: “Why are there always sheep and goats, never just
sheep, never just goats.” He glanced upward as he stroked his beard and said “We
just find that they do better together.” That’s United Methodism; we're better together. Instead of a
smattering of broken-in-half churches all over this country, none thriving while
all claim they are right, if we simply don’t vote, and stay with the one who
brought us to the point, we can still be better together – an intended
consequence of the resurrection and, since it’s Christmas, the incarnation.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-7420514680228873502022-09-25T12:23:00.002-07:002022-09-25T12:30:46.726-07:00Hope: Saving 1 Life. A sermon preached in Krakow, Sept. 25, 2022<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyo9MCrRdDVKfldRWmFTC-s8ZFvsQKhBvD47NrC53rtMktD7Nwgx7tKod1Ck_VLUSRUUfPdOprDFLLUbRYbIkG9aJrZTF-kgK73TZgujJAMl9b0zdWNvmThye_NBUBUV3wbFJ_MIdg_Jg7vsw5-nesp5VbI_f0i2qIxmTqMxYJQtzQvfu61pTNKpwc/s1862/PolandPreaching.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1306" data-original-width="1862" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyo9MCrRdDVKfldRWmFTC-s8ZFvsQKhBvD47NrC53rtMktD7Nwgx7tKod1Ck_VLUSRUUfPdOprDFLLUbRYbIkG9aJrZTF-kgK73TZgujJAMl9b0zdWNvmThye_NBUBUV3wbFJ_MIdg_Jg7vsw5-nesp5VbI_f0i2qIxmTqMxYJQtzQvfu61pTNKpwc/s320/PolandPreaching.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPuqDKgBIcg">Watch here</a>. Text below.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Jeremiah
32, beginning with verse 1. <i>“</i><span class="text"><i>The word that came to Jeremiah
from the </i></span><span class="small-caps"><i><span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">Lord</span></i></span><span class="text"><i> in the tenth year of
Zedekiah king of Judah, which was the eighteenth year of Nebuchadnezzar. <b><sup> </sup></b>At
that time the army of the king of Babylon was besieging Jerusalem, and Jeremiah
the prophet was shut up in the court of the guard which was in the palace of
the king of Judah. <b><sup> </sup></b>Jeremiah said, “The word of
the </i></span><span class="small-caps"><i><span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">Lord</span></i></span><span class="text"><i> came to me: Behold,
Hanamel your uncle will come to you and say, ‘Buy my field which is at
Anathoth, for the right of redemption by purchase is yours.’ <b><sup> </sup></b>Then
Hanamel came to me in the court of the guard, in accordance with the word of
the </i></span><span class="small-caps"><i><span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">Lord</span></i></span><span class="text"><i>, and said to me, ‘Buy my field
which is at Anathoth.’ Then I knew that this was the word of the </i></span><span class="small-caps"><i><span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">Lord</span></i></span><span class="text"><i>. <b><sup> </sup></b>And I bought the field, and weighed out
the money to him, seventeen shekels of silver. <b><sup> </sup></b>I
signed the deed, sealed it, and got witnesses. <b><sup> </sup></b>Then
I gave the deed of purchase to Baruch, in the presence of all the Jews who were
sitting in the court of the guard. <b><sup> </sup></b>I charged
Baruch in their presence, saying, ‘Thus says
the </i></span><span class="small-caps"><i><span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">Lord</span></i></span><span class="text"><i> of hosts, the God of Israel:
Take these deeds, both this sealed deed of purchase and this open deed, and put
them in an earthenware vessel, that they may last for a long time. <b><sup> </sup></b>For
thus says the </i></span><span class="small-caps"><i><span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">Lord</span></i></span><span class="text"><i> of hosts, the God of Israel:
Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.’”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Jeremiah. We know him as God’s great prophet
during the darkest days of the invasion of Nebuchadnezzar and the mighty
Babylonian army, destroying cities and killing the Israelites. But during his
lifetime, the Israelites mocked him, laughed at him, and tried to ignore him.
Nothing was more laughable than his one and only business deal, purchasing a
little tract of land in the small town of Anathoth, on the outskirts of
Jerusalem.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvVS3kQO9s856H6447p5qWJzgnpB7-AXLqqol5twPC7w5nHp4vtqvx4cDKM2cJ7ct6aJN5wmbtCb8QJZChh6KECnd13JXErWfIX4cM4WzQjlLngrenSa0xi6S_L0cNPkr3p5t8N1q_RCPp-Lch5sGz4C085wh2Lzv5pTm_PbZIpsNBzMNsiZWGbOQf/s300/FortPulaski.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="215" data-original-width="300" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvVS3kQO9s856H6447p5qWJzgnpB7-AXLqqol5twPC7w5nHp4vtqvx4cDKM2cJ7ct6aJN5wmbtCb8QJZChh6KECnd13JXErWfIX4cM4WzQjlLngrenSa0xi6S_L0cNPkr3p5t8N1q_RCPp-Lch5sGz4C085wh2Lzv5pTm_PbZIpsNBzMNsiZWGbOQf/s1600/FortPulaski.jpg" width="300" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;">Jeremiah had grown up in Anathoth. When I
was a little boy, my family lived in Savannah, Georgia. My favorite place was
an old brick structure on a little spit of land sticking out into the Atlantic
Ocean called Fort Pulaski. And my school was called Casimir Pulaski Elementary
School. Pulaski, you may know, was born in Warsaw. He fought for the
Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth against – yes – the Russians. Then he came to
America and fought against the British, until he was shot and killed in my
hometown, Savannah. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span><span style="font-family: georgia; mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG5hx8iPIayWjwdkhvy1B_SUfVAy1gkMhIR0p1LS6TfGnCAxt2ykjdtL0r9HtHMoshBRyAasTUSfBxMUAlA5Az6o9at__b_n1FE6xCsgABDdM_2YGby_yTdY62ZEYTRiI1tAPFPlFWO5cm2zo2N-ZwdsKqL2EsMUJJSLpj4dZjvF2RcOuw1p4kvC-a/s1387/CasimirPulaski.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1387" data-original-width="944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG5hx8iPIayWjwdkhvy1B_SUfVAy1gkMhIR0p1LS6TfGnCAxt2ykjdtL0r9HtHMoshBRyAasTUSfBxMUAlA5Az6o9at__b_n1FE6xCsgABDdM_2YGby_yTdY62ZEYTRiI1tAPFPlFWO5cm2zo2N-ZwdsKqL2EsMUJJSLpj4dZjvF2RcOuw1p4kvC-a/s320/CasimirPulaski.jpg" width="218" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> In a way, Pulaski was a failure. The
Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth fell. The battles in which he fought were
losses. In America he had a few successes, but he died, only 34 years old, far
from home. He had never married or had children. When he drew his last breath,
he did not know if the war would be won or not.</span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is God asking of us? To succeed? To
win? To see the fruit of our labors? No. God asks us to have some courage. God
asks us to love. God asks us to hope. Hope isn’t some naïve belief that
tomorrow ill be a better day. Hope is prepared is tomorrow is worse than today.
Hope depends on God’s future. Vaclav Havel, when he was President of
Czechoslovakia, said Hope is the ability to work for something simply because
it is right, whether it stands a chance of succeeding or not. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSkml-m-Hm_UAfwTLbhD3Oh--WlkLNr4Z9QHc3C1MzSGYVFprhkAOVE5gCVMZfmomk1vCozsHOrWvT1gfzE80W1xN8fFeMMFmhGVGziGKB93vbR08_ipWAd_RODInYXeP0VNKvwDzjYgE0xbNGZ2hUZ83gH7yWqwjESIk5PjuZDe9MGxR-K8Byvx-m/s320/ClarenceJordan.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="221" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSkml-m-Hm_UAfwTLbhD3Oh--WlkLNr4Z9QHc3C1MzSGYVFprhkAOVE5gCVMZfmomk1vCozsHOrWvT1gfzE80W1xN8fFeMMFmhGVGziGKB93vbR08_ipWAd_RODInYXeP0VNKvwDzjYgE0xbNGZ2hUZ83gH7yWqwjESIk5PjuZDe9MGxR-K8Byvx-m/s1600/ClarenceJordan.jpg" width="221" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> In America, 70 years ago now, a Christian farmer
named Clarence Jordan read his Bible and thought he was supposed to do what it
said. So he created a commune where white and black people lived and worked
together – in rural Georgia in the 1950’s. He got kicked out of his church, and
the Ku Klux Klan (a racist terrorist organization) burned all of the crops just
as it was time for the harvest. A news reporter stood in the burned out field
with Jordan and said to him, “You have failed! What will you do now?” Jordan
replied, “We’ll plant again. God doesn’t ask us to be successful. God asks us
to be faithful.”</span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6h8azbolDbbz6HBKr-NEaRu8I2bKcvGsABYzjolgka8N6zG90lRhfsaoZuG4VRZmFsvGDkhZImI-y9-Ba2PxmMAnE1MKIGPKl6MP2Psj8UU5gomKJNkf7H2Qruomk43tJ0cuCE4xgzJK2ce6Hm3mMB9UdM18crmdmaP_xEJfVuizLrOxfTmmtDONw/s2224/ReginaPrayer.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1744" data-original-width="2224" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6h8azbolDbbz6HBKr-NEaRu8I2bKcvGsABYzjolgka8N6zG90lRhfsaoZuG4VRZmFsvGDkhZImI-y9-Ba2PxmMAnE1MKIGPKl6MP2Psj8UU5gomKJNkf7H2Qruomk43tJ0cuCE4xgzJK2ce6Hm3mMB9UdM18crmdmaP_xEJfVuizLrOxfTmmtDONw/s320/ReginaPrayer.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;"> About 800 kilometers from here is a small
town in Lithuania called Birzai. Several times, I have visited there and stayed
with my friend Regina. She grew up as an atheist, but then converted to
Christianity as an adult. Her house is tiny, with no running water. I thought
of her as poor. But one day she took me with her to the people she thinks of as
poor, delivering food and medicine she could hardly afford for herself, praying
with the poor, hugging them, reading to their children. The poor serving those
poorer. I asked her, “Regina, why do you sacrifice what you really need for
yourself for others?” She was puzzled by my question, saying “That’s just what
Christians do, right?”</span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jeremiah purchased a field he couldn’t really afford, when no one was
buying property, when its value would only drop lower and lower. He would get
no return on his personal investment. It was a dramatic act of hope. His
investment was in God’s future, not his own. He was revealing to skeptics that
God was still God, that rough times were ahead, but in the end, God would
reign. He was a man of tremendous hope. He didn’t need to see the return on his
investment. But he knew it would come, someday, in God’s good time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The theologian Reinhold Niebuhr once said
“Nothing worth doing can be accomplished in a single lifetime. Therefore, we
are saved by hope.” To the world, hope looks like foolishness. What fool would
purchase land during the Babylonian invasion? What fool would re-plant crops,
knowing they probably would be burned down again? What fool poor person shares
with poorer persons? The apostle Paul wrote about the “foolishness of the
Gospel,” urging us to be “fools for Christ.” It’s God’s wisdom, this
foolishness. It’s hope. It’s joy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two things in closing. Jeremiah signed the
deed and sealed it up in a jar – and we read about it, 2,500 years later, in a
very different language, on the other side of the world. Jesus broke bread and
shared wine with his disciples in a room in Jerusalem, and we have the audacity
to believe we are there with him, with them, 2,000 years later, on the other
side of the world. Next Sunday is, for us, World Communion Sunday. We are
foolish enough to believe that, even though our group will be back in America,
we will mysteriously and mystically be here, in this room with you at our
Lord’s table. It’s a miracle. Skeptics may scoff. But we are one, across time
and space. It’s God’s time and space. We are his Body, always together,
separated only by miles and hours and language. We are One in the Spirit.
Christ stretched his arms out to embrace you, and us, reaching around the
globe, enveloping all of us in a love that cannot be crushed or lost.
Foolishness to the world, but our good reason to hope.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0v9XjvfE2iSZ9BTf-HMP81eSXHm6qjoHTEJcbuJrGmCiwlfpEcFszoQ4VXQfKezRRNITSXwPnMt311pr3sALbcM24IAiB3_sggaRESIKDJlfk-VSrIOS0pECYmgOI4tZIYjLcd98T00WkSvuoCCnMKD00KkDPJg2AvzNRtds6lDGBGDIEpJT1APEb/s1200/GeorgeWashington.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0v9XjvfE2iSZ9BTf-HMP81eSXHm6qjoHTEJcbuJrGmCiwlfpEcFszoQ4VXQfKezRRNITSXwPnMt311pr3sALbcM24IAiB3_sggaRESIKDJlfk-VSrIOS0pECYmgOI4tZIYjLcd98T00WkSvuoCCnMKD00KkDPJg2AvzNRtds6lDGBGDIEpJT1APEb/w200-h200/GeorgeWashington.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;"> And then there’s this. Casimir Pulaski
fought bravely, for a lost cause, and then for a winning cause he never witnessed.
He probably saved several lives, but we know about one life he saved. At the
Battle of Brandywine Creek in 1777 – which the Americans lost! – Pulaski saved
the life of George Washington. If he had not saved that one life, America
probably would have lost the war. America would not have had Washington as its
first President. That one life mattered in ways Pulaski and the other Americans
fleeing that battle just to survive could never have imagined. Jews often say
that to save one life is to save the world.</span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few days after the Russians invaded
Ukraine, I was talking with our Bishop here, Patrick Streiff. He reported to me
that the Methodist churches in Poland were stepping up with great hospitality
and courage to welcome Ukrainian refugees. Guests. Friends. He told me that a
young woman got off a bus, walked into a Methodist church, and gave birth a few
hours later. Everything we do, we together, the Body of Christ across this
globe, our church and your church, really just one church in God’s heart, is about
saving one life. That one child: who knows what that child will become? Maybe a
future President of Ukraine. Maybe the one to bring peace to eastern Europe.
Maybe a scientist discovering a cure for cancer. Maybe a pastor, or a parent.
Maybe just a Christian, a faithful disciple of Jesus, another companion of
Jesus, and my children and their children.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw a woman wearing a t-shirt the other
day that said “Hope addict.” We are hooked on hope. We invest in God’s future. We
will be faithful. It’s just what Christians do. It includes all of us, and is
bigger than us. It’s as big as just one child, like the Christ child himself,
God in the flesh, Emmanuel, God with us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-64876291436055041382022-09-21T14:27:00.000-07:002022-12-02T06:24:07.390-08:00Young Karl Barth Preaching, Offending and Reassessing<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQukcStNaCq4-LMvh6QSeBtMXNZ0nchBRh61HrIcT5Aly7kI5egbpPeobO9Ge_rxu2d2xRdS8Xu32QKyAwCxTsMvzeBuP45NkwJ7f83NyroUbMya0W5IYx2hw7fjo5ULxJGZZjHh8vqecJuYiefNETXKD1iF7gDGv210Qy6jr6lD5U0HcdUKLcbmm/s499/BarthTietz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="332" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQukcStNaCq4-LMvh6QSeBtMXNZ0nchBRh61HrIcT5Aly7kI5egbpPeobO9Ge_rxu2d2xRdS8Xu32QKyAwCxTsMvzeBuP45NkwJ7f83NyroUbMya0W5IYx2hw7fjo5ULxJGZZjHh8vqecJuYiefNETXKD1iF7gDGv210Qy6jr6lD5U0HcdUKLcbmm/s320/BarthTietz.jpg" width="213" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">I laughed out loud a few times while reading Christiane Tietz’s wonderful new biography of Karl Barth. Once was during her recounting of his first pastorate in Safenwil. Full of Gospel zeal, he encountered (for the first time in his life) real people with profound social and economic troubles. His sermons began to veer toward what some regarded as “political,” and he was deemed by quite a few to be “socialist.” The common folk cheered all he had to say.</span><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But not Walter Hüssy, the grown son of the local factory owners who had financially paid for the bulk of the church building’s construction a few years earlier. He penned an open letter to Barth, published in the town newspaper: “Barth’s agitating speech was an attempt to sow discord between employers and employees. The owners after all are those who pull the cart, and need some elbow room.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipZarvXYQYV-SVHTMOgyEDKw3I4_c_B5yHcaq_tpSXDzFfl_NyuvoEKZADRTdSUU0CeAXlOqoPzO8V7Tyhe5CtRRL9iVRmRvJijOIOcxRa0rWQzCydh-B-Ojb7Ym2CLqPKtxmD46uxTBNspm3sKVujA0FcJVj_Gvw2P5TbRbEaFwYJBxXE9mJZtjSD/s400/KarlBarthYoung.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="288" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipZarvXYQYV-SVHTMOgyEDKw3I4_c_B5yHcaq_tpSXDzFfl_NyuvoEKZADRTdSUU0CeAXlOqoPzO8V7Tyhe5CtRRL9iVRmRvJijOIOcxRa0rWQzCydh-B-Ojb7Ym2CLqPKtxmD46uxTBNspm3sKVujA0FcJVj_Gvw2P5TbRbEaFwYJBxXE9mJZtjSD/s320/KarlBarthYoung.jpg" width="230" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;"> Barth replied, in the same newspaper: “My honored sir, may I loan or give you a few good books where you can teach yourself some things? You address me in my role as pastor, that I should have a mediating effect. That would suit you! With your permission however, as pastor I set myself a different program, over which I owe no accounting to you. You may be older than I, but nonetheless you are still young enough to develop better insights. I sincerely wish you that.”</span><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The following Sunday, the church was packed beyond capacity! The slugfest was all the talk of Safenwil. The paper published an anonymous column entitled “The Red Danger in Safenwil,” noting Barth’s subversive agitation, and stating uncertainty whether he was really a good Christian or not. The Hüssys promptly departed the church – with their large donations.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His professor of theology in Basel, Paul Wernle, corresponded with him, leading him to rethink not the content but the tone of his remarks. Wernle suggested he’d answered “crudeness with crudeness and rudeness with rudeness.” Pondering this, Barth admitted “When I read Hüssy’s attack, I didn’t feel any personal offense, but a desire to fight: take up the sword of the Lord and Gideon! I didn’t intend anything but to run down an enemy of a good cause. But now, fourteen days later, as the smoke has cleared, I must acknowledge that I behaved in an Old Testament-like fashion. My gesture appears less heroic now, and I can sense all the egocentric aspects that contributed to it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18ypkMk_9eJoLMC-G8mYc3rFmbb8m1EbVRktAmiUTZZktXf3BLCO_s06ZGLSuFVMzGT22MEPmiJUZfZdvVWfHffi-LZtftBHKXY7wq6tNaa_PA8Xa00ZuaSALqPTOtfhGaK05WQHdLolAv4--fucFpFzt2uus-35d8xmHoeBPKYvuyMkHRi2DCNp3/s1000/Safenwil.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="764" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18ypkMk_9eJoLMC-G8mYc3rFmbb8m1EbVRktAmiUTZZktXf3BLCO_s06ZGLSuFVMzGT22MEPmiJUZfZdvVWfHffi-LZtftBHKXY7wq6tNaa_PA8Xa00ZuaSALqPTOtfhGaK05WQHdLolAv4--fucFpFzt2uus-35d8xmHoeBPKYvuyMkHRi2DCNp3/s320/Safenwil.jpg" width="244" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;"> He resolved to do better next time. On this, he never made significant progress. Preaching five years later, he asked out loud if Safenwil didn’t need a different pastor, “a pastor from whose sermons the love of God emanates with such power that you have to feel it, that you are moved. I apparently am not able to speak to you in such a way, because apparently in myself there is something very deeply not in order with God.”</span><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am moved by these words, and hope they were genuine. Barth, I believe, trusted so firmly in the power of the Word to effect change that, when he observed a listlessness, a lack of response in his people and the town, he looked within seeking an explanation.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon thereafter, he grew more acerbic: “You wish for me to be a false prophet, the pastor who pleases the people. To have a pastor in this village means to have eternal unrest in the village, a person who in the most uncomfortable way will continually question everything and give unexpected replies to all questions.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_NiLO1Sc0YOjmgqLbzOsDW0EUISAuoiPqlQ4AOkVTG6Xy8V_3ZMOpTXxO0Hsgo7alrSCvnxTXKyvDwZcmsfE222syu26QsmQCPhd3j-NDTqLK5p-znPj62Xy8FO6jSPd3hBGGKyzhXKdyFpz3ARAYteuKgiqkYXg-cIkHOlYQrhHcjbIn7p3vO2l/s499/BarthEpistleRomans.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="328" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_NiLO1Sc0YOjmgqLbzOsDW0EUISAuoiPqlQ4AOkVTG6Xy8V_3ZMOpTXxO0Hsgo7alrSCvnxTXKyvDwZcmsfE222syu26QsmQCPhd3j-NDTqLK5p-znPj62Xy8FO6jSPd3hBGGKyzhXKdyFpz3ARAYteuKgiqkYXg-cIkHOlYQrhHcjbIn7p3vO2l/s320/BarthEpistleRomans.jpg" width="210" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: georgia;"> And so, also mortified by theologians who could curtsy to the German war efforts, he wrote his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Epistle to the Romans</i>, called by theologian Karl Adam “a bomb on the playground of the theologians.” A new congregation gathered around him: countless young theologians and pastors around the world breathing in his fresh new life. And his pastoring in a small village days were over. Should we say … thankfully?</span><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"> For all of us screwing up the courage to say what we need to say, and searching for the right tone, in some little church somewhere, we want what is within us to be "in right order," and we want to speak truly - even if they do not ask or pay us to stir up eternal unrest. For me, noticing a titan like Karl Barth walked this same difficult road, is encouraging.</span></p>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-68718069177475816232020-11-03T05:40:00.008-08:002020-11-03T10:32:44.172-08:00A Message for the Church on Election Day<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxsC8Om0UJfpz9RqZaOE9SSXV0q5kaAlqnzBBh8FHsYtRFZjzj-IlwJL2OP9WT9CGLdSE-uR59zLfr73MRTLCiwRI0lmnGrGTtb0b9TJniukuzKv4GeOFGKmf384Vxl-y2m8F3BSFDdOI/s320/FBNov3a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxsC8Om0UJfpz9RqZaOE9SSXV0q5kaAlqnzBBh8FHsYtRFZjzj-IlwJL2OP9WT9CGLdSE-uR59zLfr73MRTLCiwRI0lmnGrGTtb0b9TJniukuzKv4GeOFGKmf384Vxl-y2m8F3BSFDdOI/s0/FBNov3a.jpg" /></a></div><br /> A reminder or 2 to people of faith on
Election Day. God is still God, and will be tomorrow. Political ideology is our
idolatry - on both sides! and both are fake gods that can't deliver. Elections
and policies matter, but Church does not equal country, never has, never will.
The Church's work does not change today.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcl1hvlA3jbYqTDGBI5m1bgkp8E47E6m6IFm6qLdNfHqc6x1An-Zpxqj_Aw0S_Az7xMA3suq19FLZ5Ia87PRgGST_jx94uvca3hNKHHiL1BGLMFvUmxA21aKxeo8KpGpHhyVQbsuvgS2c/s500/NTWrightDayRevolu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcl1hvlA3jbYqTDGBI5m1bgkp8E47E6m6IFm6qLdNfHqc6x1An-Zpxqj_Aw0S_Az7xMA3suq19FLZ5Ia87PRgGST_jx94uvca3hNKHHiL1BGLMFvUmxA21aKxeo8KpGpHhyVQbsuvgS2c/s320/NTWrightDayRevolu.jpg" /></a></div> The most important day in history isn't
today; it was Good Friday, which N.T. Wright calls <i>The Day the Revolution Began</i>. Our task is God's agenda, which
sometimes looks conservative, sometimes liberal, always carried out in
humility, compassion and determination.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"> Pray: not for your guy to win, since that
won't usher in the kingdom of God, and if your guy loses, God is still God and
the Church has loads of work to do. Pray for your soul, for the soul of the
nation, for the world, and for the Church to be the Church. Ephesians 5:1 says
"Be imitators of God," the God who has grieved throughout history
over far worse than we're dealing with. How do we imitate God? <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJHHl5C69aJ6SmJwqsuh9s6Jodg4sjTF5sQMxWcQAmKZsKZ-NAPIyi6B_vZguzG3_q-sLKmo5wGLhrljZDwnJ8mjeQS-OSofnaNum2caKJ5IhiFvhOiU_XV-ckQy6KTj2EnA0LxGIztk/s320/FBNov3b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJHHl5C69aJ6SmJwqsuh9s6Jodg4sjTF5sQMxWcQAmKZsKZ-NAPIyi6B_vZguzG3_q-sLKmo5wGLhrljZDwnJ8mjeQS-OSofnaNum2caKJ5IhiFvhOiU_XV-ckQy6KTj2EnA0LxGIztk/s0/FBNov3b.jpg" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Thomas à Kempis, on the heels of a pandemic
that killed one-third of Europe, and during brutal political wars in the 15th
century, wrote </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The Imitation of Christ</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">,
which includes this: "Lord in what can I trust in this life? And what is
my greatest comfort on earth? Is it not yourself, O Lord my God, whose mercy is
limitless? Have I ever prospered without you? Did I ever suffer ill when you
were at hand? I would rather be poor for your sake than rich without you. I
would choose to be a wanderer on earth with you than to possess heaven without
you. For where you are, there is heaven; where you are not, there is hell. You
are my sole desire. For you I sigh, pray and cry. I cannot put my trust in any
mortal to afford me help sufficient for my needs, but in you alone, O my God.
You are my hope, my trust, my strength, most faithful in all things.”</span><p></p><p></p>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-73611314788171352742020-07-19T09:00:00.003-07:002020-07-20T05:51:45.371-07:00Complicated, Infrequent, Maddening: Reflecting on my Dad's Life and Death<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Sigmund Freud said that the most important
day in a man’s life is the day his father dies. If so, that day for me was
Wednesday, July 15. My dad turned 95 on March 5, when we last had a good long visit
together. On Father’s Day he suffered a stroke, and spiraled down from there. I
got to see him briefly, given Covid restrictions, 6 days before he passed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me work through my thoughts and emotions
in front of you now. Helps me, as a writer, to do so in this way – and I suspect
my experience of people’s sympathy might help all of us moving forward. With
loving intentions, we speak words of comfort to one another. I understand well that when we do so, we inject, we transfer our own feelings about our own family into the stories of others. <i>Surely they feel as I did or would</i>. Comforting words are all comforting, but then
at the same time some aren’t so comforting, or aren’t connected to reality,
feeling like little pin pricks to fend off. I don’t fault any of the hundreds
of people who’ve reached out to me. I am humbled, and so very grateful. I feel
loved. My story with my dad probably explains why I need that – but then why
everybody else does too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My dad, Cecil Artus Howell (known as “Jack”
as a young man and in old age) and I had a complicated, infrequent, and
maddening relationship. Grieving might just be harder, or at least very
different, when this is the case. And I know (given my work!) that our relationship, while unique,
was hardly that unusual. I suspect that’s why Jesus stored up his best energy
and imagination for that story about the wonderful father who threw a party for
his lost son – as if Jesus knew some of us who have a hollow or painful place
where “father” is supposed to be would desperately need to know that God is our
father and is like that father, instead of like our own fathers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Positives: my dad was raised in a warm,
hard-working, pious Baptist family in Oakboro, a little town in Stanly County
about an hour from Charlotte. Growing up, I spent much time there with my
grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. It was heavenly, like a womb of
compassion and joy. I wonder if God grants some of us an experience of such an “other”
place so we will know to long for and even expect that beyond this life there
really is a “better place.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My dad’s family endured the Great
Depression. Tough people - and, like many Depression survivors, always a bit
fearful you might run out of money one day. He never went to a day of college,
and covered this fact up deftly throughout life, which is not easy. As a
mechanical engineer producing nuclear fuel at Westinghouse in his second
career, he hired and supervised college- and graduate school-trained people. He
always knew he knew more than they did. He could fix or build anything,
diagnose what was awry in any machine and make it all good. He changed the oil
in his car into his nineties and did his own plumbing, not because he was cheap
(which he was), but because he wanted to be sure it was done right.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As part of that “greatest generation,” he
left the small Oakboro school after grade 11 and joined the Army Air Corps. Flew in
World War II, the Berlin Air Lift, and briefly into Vietnam. He did what Sarah
Palin claimed to do: stationed in Alaska, he and other flyers kept an eye on
the Russians, back in the 50's. Like most World War II veterans I’ve known, he was humble about
it (even about being shot down over Europe), with no trace of rah-rah patriotism.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was born on Hunter Air Force Base in
Savannah, where we lived until I was 8. My dad earned stripes, and taught me to
march and shine my shoes (which were duly inspected every Saturday evening). In
1964, he retired with full benefits, moved us back to North Carolina briefly,
then landed his job with Westinghouse in Columbia, SC, where he worked until
retirement – which he flunked twice, returning to work after a few weeks of
realizing he didn’t have much else to do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having come to adolescence during the
Depression, money mattered in a big way to my dad. He was frugal with what he
earned, and invested aggressively and smartly in the stock market. After
retirement, he became a day trader, watching the ups and downs of stocks all
day, every day. If I called and said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How
are you doing?</i> his answer indicated if the market was up or down. Into his
90’s, he bore that stress all day, every day. His knowledge of corporate America was astonishing. For an uneducated guy with zero
family money, he made a lot, and was proud of it. And cheap. I always paid for
dinner; he put up no fight at all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now to the harder aspects of things. My dad
was, somewhere deep inside, a tender, loving soul. His family was that way. It
would peek out now and then. But mostly I experienced him as distant, cold,
critical. He never said things like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
love you</i>. When he died, many Facebook comments said “I know he was so proud
of you.” But this was not something he ever said, to me or anybody else about me. I read
the words, and feel a slight jolt of wishing he had been. He was sharply
dismissive of my going into the ministry, thinking this was a “waste” of my
life. He abounded with criticism. My clothes, my car, my inability to fix a car, my friends. Nothing suited. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was distant: when he was in the Air
Force, his work took him away for weeks, even months at a time. When he
returned home, he gave great hugs. But then he was gone again. In adult life,
he just was distant. His telephone evidently was a one-way contraption. It
could receive my calls, but it seemed incapable of calling me. He never ever in
calls or visits asked things like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How are
you doing? How are your children? How is your work? </i>I’ve wondered if he had
some kind of narcissistic disorder. Intriguing to diagnose maybe, but not a
happy circumstance when it’s your father who’s the narcissist. He very rarely
saw my children. I don’t believe he saw my son, his only grandson, until he was
nearly 3. He never came to a ballgame or a ballet recital. He rarely remembered
anybody’s birthday. He never volunteered. He never made a donation to a non-profit
or church.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t blame him all that much, oddly. He
married my mother, and they waged a long, dispiriting, bloody war with one
another (like so many marriages, although people cloak this fact and pretend otherwise). Shouting, throwing things, physical battle, stomping out in a rage:
this was my home life. It is a gross understatement to say my mother was a prickly,
difficult person. Yet he loved her. A touching moment, very late in his life: after
he was mired in the nursing home, with no visits allowed due to Covid, I began
printing out and mailing him old photos every day – from his teenage and early
military years, of his siblings, his parents, his flying buddies. He loved this!
I found photos of his wedding to my mother. After hesitating, I sent them
anyhow. He phoned me: his phone actually <i>was</i> a 2-way phone! and spoke tenderly
of how beautiful she was, how much he had loved her, how he wished he could
have made it work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it didn’t work, and their battlefield
was littered with the debris that was my childhood, and my sister’s. I remember
telling him I was going to college. He seemed puzzled, and tried briefly to dissuade
me, suggesting I get a job and support myself. Mind you, he didn’t support me.
I worked my own way through school, and with no regrets at all. About that
time, he reconnected with an old flame, Bonnie, the deep love of his life. An
ugly divorce case ensued – but then he was free from my mother. He and Bonnie spent every
waking minute together. In their 30 years of marriage, they spent one night
apart. But she was icy, didn’t want to be around my dad’s kids, or my kids. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so I don’t blame him so much. Yet,
people say “Enjoy your happy memories!” I can recall a handful from childhood. His
hugs when returning home. Playing catch a few times. He came to a couple of my
football games in high school. But in my entire adult life, it would be hard to
point to some moment and say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aha, now
that was a happy memory</i>. Naturally, I blame myself too often about this.
What could I have done to make things different? I tried. But maybe I was too
proud? Did I get this trait from him, along with a tenacious work ethic and a resilient
stubbornness?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
impressed at times by my dad. His third wife, Lorraine, began to suffer from
Alzheimer’s shortly after their marriage. I watched him visit her in the
nursing home, when she showed no flash of recognition – and he held her hand,
kissed her, spoke tender words of love to her, combed her hair, every day. That
is a memory that makes me happy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People have said many religious things to me
since he died. “He’s with God,” or “You’ll be together in heaven,” or whatever.
I most certainly hope so. Yet he not only thought it was a waste of my life to
be a pastor. He seemed to believe church was a waste of time. He never said so,
but then he never attended. Well, he came to my wedding in a church, and to one
of my three children’s baptisms in a church, to an occasional family funeral,
and even to worship at Myers Park Church a couple of times, clearly dragged
there by Lorraine before her dementia set in. I did ask him late in life if he ever
prayed. He laughed, and then growled, “Yeah, I pray for my stocks to go up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So if you believe my dad is in heaven, now,
you have to have a pretty expansive theology of who goes to heaven. I have
space in my theological mind for people like my dad who don’t go to church, who
don’t pray, who don’t believe, who don’t make the slightest effort to follow
Jesus, who don’t do anything for anybody else, to be with God forever. I’ve been stridently criticized
by church people over many years for writing and thinking such thoughts. Yet I
know I am in good company with many of our greatest theologians and church
leaders, from Origen to C.S. Lewis to Karl Barth. If you prefer to think of him in eternal perdition, I pity you. I believe he is with God, not because he was my dad, but because of what we know about the heart of God. Fortunately, God has
liberated us from having to know or decide on such things. Ours is, of course,
to hope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suspect Freud was right in some ways I
cannot fathom just now. Since my dad died, I’ve been in a funk. No tears. At least not yet. But a
numbness. I’ve not been answering the phone, even when called by my dearest
friends. I don’t really have words I can attach to this mood, the drumbeat of
feelings that aren’t the usual kind of grief. I’m not mad, or resentful. Even
his impassioned admonition to me as a 20 year old who had just announced I was
going into the ministry, “You only have one life; don’t waste it,” I still
welcome as giving me the laser focus I needed for why I would do such a thing. I
think I’m just sad. Maybe. I’m not fond of could’ves or should’ves. My father
died. Period. A complicated life. Like everyone’s, I suppose. With lasting
impacts on others. Like everyone’s. He was my father. I favor him. He's tangled deep in my soul. Always will be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you, thank you, thank you to every
person who has reached out to me. You’ve buoyed me up and encouraged me. I
think of the times I have most likely assumed things about relationships that
were off kilter, maybe a little hurtful. I hope they too were well-received as
bumbling but sincere expressions of love and care. Let’s never assume though.
Let us never say I know how you feel. If you ask <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How do you feel?</i> you might get an earful, like this blog. Or the
person might do the best she can muster in the moment, which is to say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fine</i>. We are. And we will be. Mostly
likely, and hopefully, forever, if God our Father’s love is as all-encompassing
and tender as we dream it surely must be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-44488913808210001032020-06-27T05:06:00.003-07:002020-06-27T05:06:44.118-07:00God on Statues, Flags and Monuments<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">What does God think about statues being torn down, or preserved? I can’t say for sure. I think of Joseph Heller’s humorous thought in his hilarious <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/God-Knows-Joseph-Heller/dp/0684841258/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=heller+god+knows&qid=1593094195&sr=8-1" target="_blank">God Knows</a></i> where he envisions David in heaven complaining about Michelangelo’s statue of him in Florence: “It doesn’t look anything like me.” There are beautiful statues, and then some really garish ones of Jesus himself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not surprisingly, our polarized divide in America splits us into those who relish the demolition of statues, and those who are mortified. Some say <i>Symbols matter!</i> Others say <i>It’s just a statue</i> – although we might all recall a certain delight when Saddam’s statue was pulled down, or when Lenin’s lay on the turf. Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandias,” a poem I learned in junior high school, testifies to the ultimate tumbling of all monuments to human grandeur.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we witness assaults on monuments, and the reflex to save them, what we see isn’t so much about this or that statue or person. It’s rage at a whole world that has failed us – on both sides of the divide. This debate reveals clearly what I’ve said repeatedly – that everyone is afraid. Half of us are afraid that the world we’ve known and treasured is crumbling around us; the other half are afraid that the world they dream of will never actually dawn. If we just fix this, or save that, we'll stave off all we fear. But in our gut we know it's a vain fantasy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My questions are: <i>How do we reflect on public images and their hurtful or helpful impact on people?</i> And thus <i>How do we preserve history while understanding why and how it matters?</i> History matters. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, reminding us that the most common word in the Bible for “sin” is to “forget,” declares that “the guardian of conscience is memory… Civilizations begin to die when they forget.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Should we forget Robert E. Lee? His statue came down: many were glad, many were miffed. Was he evil – as a person? Or in the cause he life was defined by? By all accounts he was a noble genius – who fought to preserve southernness, including slavery. He was a pious person; but who symbolizes the systematic oppression of black people more than Lee? Does seeing Lee riding Traveler traumatize people? Some, yes. Famously, the Sunday after the war ended, Lee alone responded well when a freed slave walked to the altar of the St. Paul’s Episcopal church in Richmond. Other worshippers were appalled, but Lee knelt next to him at the altar. Not surprisingly, this story is disputed. Should we learn about him, and ponder such a life? Most assuredly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When my daughter Sarah was little, our family watched the local news, which featured video of me, as a religious leader, laying a wreath at the base of the Martin Luther King statue downtown – on his holiday. Having paid attention in Sunday School, she chided me: “Daddy, you’re not supposed to worship idols.” King isn’t an idol. No one is. The truth is, all people are deeply flawed. If we remove all statues of people with some embarrassing flaw, we’ll have no statues. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Lincoln got syphilis from a prostitute, Jefferson owned slaves, King had affairs. The Boston Tea Party was looting, the wanton destruction of somebody else’s property. The history books are jammed with anti-Semites, racists, philanderers, oppressors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the lessons of history is we all have our blind spots. You may feel “woke” on this or that issue. But there’s something horrific in you that you flat out are missing. Lauren Winner wrote a book (<i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dangers-Christian-Practice-Wayward-Characteristic/dp/0300215827/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=lauren+winner&qid=1593094153&sr=8-1" target="_blank">The Dangers of Christian Practice</a></i>) about the letters and diaries of plantation wives, who prayed so very devoutly, <i>Lord, how severely should I punish my slave for what he did?</i> Or, <i>Lord, should I purchase 3 more slaves next week? </i>Or, <i>Lord, how should I read the Bible and pray with my slaves? </i>– numbingly blind to the idea that the Lord might want her to let the people go. I wonder what it is in me, enlightened as I like to think of myself as being?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I totally get that symbols can be hurtful, and can insidiously prop up what alien to our good and noble nature. We have great cause to abolish some symbols. In Germany, if you raise a flag with a swastika, you go to jail. Yet in America, we say the Confederate flag is freedom of speech. But we agree as a democratic people that not every freedom of speech can pass. Nudists can’t express themselves in public. And I’ve found that the people I know who wave a rebel flag and claim freedom of speech rage against a ballplayer taking a knee during the National Anthem. The flag is coded language, shouting to others that they aren't wanted, or included, and had better be very afraid - isn't it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the National Anthem, does God favor taking the knee or standing at attention? Does God want rebel flags or is he more German in his soul? I feel sure the desire is for us first of all to dig beneath the surface and confess we are all broken. We are all hypocrites. We all have blind spots. And then that no image or statue will save us, or destroy us. As the Bible reiterates, the only image of God’s goodness we can trust is the image of God in every person. It’s in me, in you, in the other person you think is amazing and the one whose viewpoint makes you apoplectic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I'd guess God</span> wants 3 things from us just now. (1) That we delve deeply into history, for there is so much that is noble, and so much that is tawdry; this is how we understand ourselves, the perils and the hope. (2) That we are gentle and merciful with one another; you are the spitting image of God, you’re deeply broken, you have blind spots – and the same holds for the other guy. And (3) That we aren’t saved by thinking right about statues or flags or parties or positions; they all matter, but they are as substantial as that crumbled statue Shelley portrayed in “Ozymandias.” And so are we. So let's figure all this out. Together. Symbols matter. What they symbolize matters far more. It's the image of God in all of "we the people" that God is focused on, and dreams that we will be too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-79424732971392460422020-06-25T07:32:00.000-07:002020-06-25T10:11:28.530-07:00Jesus on Statues, Flags and Monuments<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">What does Jesus think about statues being torn down, or preserved? I can’t
say for sure. I think of Joseph Heller’s humorous thought in his hilarious <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/God-Knows-Joseph-Heller/dp/0684841258/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=heller+god+knows&qid=1593094195&sr=8-1" target="_blank">God Knows</a></i> where he
envisions David in heaven complaining about Michelangelo’s statue of him in Florence:
“It doesn’t look anything like me.” There are beautiful statues, and then some
really garish ones of Jesus himself.</span><br />
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</span>Not surprisingly, our polarized divide in America splits us into those
who relish the demolition of statues, and those who are mortified. Some say
<i>Symbols matter!</i> Others say <i>It’s just a statue</i> – although we might all recall a
certain delight when Saddam’s statue was pulled down, or when Lenin’s lay on
the turf. Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandias,” a poem I learned in junior high
school, testifies to the ultimate tumbling of all monuments to human grandeur.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span>When we witness assaults on monuments, and the reflex to save them, what we see isn’t so much about
this or that statue or person. It’s rage at a whole world that has failed us –
on both sides of the divide. This debate reveals clearly what I’ve said
repeatedly – that everyone is afraid. Half of us are afraid that the world we’ve
known and treasured is crumbling around us; the other half are afraid that the world
they dream of will never actually dawn. If we just fix this, or save that, we'll stave off all we fear. But in our gut we know it's a vain fantasy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span>My question is one I think Jesus would ask us: <i>How do we reflect on
public images and their hurtful or helpful impact on people?</i> And thus <i>How do we
preserve history while understanding why and how it matters?</i> History matters.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, reminding us that the most common word in the Bible for “sin”
is to “forget,” declares that “the guardian of conscience is memory…
Civilizations begin to die when they forget.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span>Should we forget Robert E. Lee? His statue came down: many were glad,
many were miffed. Was he evil – as a person? Or in the cause he life was
defined by? By all accounts he was a noble genius – who fought to preserve
southernness, including slavery. He was a pious person; but who symbolizes the systematic oppression of black people more than Lee? Does seeing Lee riding Traveler traumatize people? Some, yes. Famously, the Sunday
after the war ended, Lee alone responded well when a freed slave walked to the
altar of the St. Paul’s Episcopal church in Richmond. Other worshippers were
appalled, but Lee knelt next to him at the altar. Not surprisingly, this story
is disputed. Should we learn about him, and ponder such a life? Most assuredly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl09Pyjy4Gxhbk_Tsgflh43qdwoPka1VjAXi842-MNjoc30IH1AsHLBRRr8ejXs8moLmxTJnAnfxjxa_cmZObNYVMaPwuHPcngl4_nEiozct-83b7oi1hcHOsKEvV0RtX1pdJmqQsLppc/s1600/MLKStatue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="384" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl09Pyjy4Gxhbk_Tsgflh43qdwoPka1VjAXi842-MNjoc30IH1AsHLBRRr8ejXs8moLmxTJnAnfxjxa_cmZObNYVMaPwuHPcngl4_nEiozct-83b7oi1hcHOsKEvV0RtX1pdJmqQsLppc/s320/MLKStatue.jpg" width="245" /></a></div>
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</span>When my daughter Sarah was little, our family watched the local news,
which featured video of me, as a religious leader, laying a wreath at the base
of the Martin Luther King statue downtown – on his holiday. Having paid
attention in Sunday School, she chided me: “Daddy, you’re not supposed to
worship idols.” King isn’t an idol. No one is. The truth is, all people are
deeply flawed. If we remove all statues of people with some embarrassing flaw,
we’ll have no statues. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Lincoln got syphilis from
a prostitute, Jefferson owned slaves, King had affairs. The Boston Tea Party
was looting, the wanton destruction of somebody else’s property. The history
books are jammed with anti-Semites, racists, philanderers, oppressors. <i>Nothing but us
broken sinners down here, O Lord</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span>One of the lessons of history is we all have our blind spots. You may
feel “woke” on this or that issue. But there’s something horrific in you that
you flat out are missing. Lauren Winner wrote a book (<i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dangers-Christian-Practice-Wayward-Characteristic/dp/0300215827/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=lauren+winner&qid=1593094153&sr=8-1" target="_blank">The Dangers of Christian Practice</a></i>) about the letters and diaries
of plantation wives, who prayed so very devoutly, <i>Lord, how severely should I
punish my slave for what he did?</i> Or, <i>Lord, should I purchase 3 more slaves next
week? </i>Or, <i>Lord, how should I read the Bible and pray with my slaves? </i>–
numbingly blind to the idea that the Lord might want her to let the people go.
I wonder what it is in me, enlightened as I like to think of myself as being?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span>I totally get that symbols can be hurtful, and can insidiously prop up
what is not of God. We have good cause to abolish some symbols. In Germany, if
you raise a flag with a swastika, you go to jail. Yet in America, we say the Confederate flag is freedom of speech. But we agree as a democratic people that not
every freedom of speech can pass. Nudists can’t express themselves in public.
And I’ve found that the people I know who wave a rebel flag and claim freedom
of speech rage against a ballplayer taking a knee during the National Anthem. The flag is coded language, shouting to others that they aren't wanted, or included, and had better be very afraid - isn't it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span>Does Jesus favor taking the knee or standing at attention? Does he want
rebel flags or is he more German in his soul? I feel sure Jesus wants us first
of all to dig beneath the surface and confess we are all broken. We are all hypocrites.
We all have blind spots. And then that no image or statue will save us, or
destroy us. As the Bible reiterates, the only image of God’s goodness we can
trust is the image of God in Jesus, and the image of God in every person. It’s
in me, in you, in the other person you think is amazing and the one whose
viewpoint makes you apoplectic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfqYG5OBokpI0Prf4XVLQwB5K7gb-Zhyphenhyphenlx13RAnnrwOHGyfd8xtIL56e4eGdUsAQFLUaFqQ-zg2Vm0HQpZ5vjXj4-pMDSy54Ghiu4f8SSCpip2lldkebuO9lD1Ul9nmf7vpdlk1GLpdv8/s1600/ChristPantocrator2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="330" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfqYG5OBokpI0Prf4XVLQwB5K7gb-Zhyphenhyphenlx13RAnnrwOHGyfd8xtIL56e4eGdUsAQFLUaFqQ-zg2Vm0HQpZ5vjXj4-pMDSy54Ghiu4f8SSCpip2lldkebuO9lD1Ul9nmf7vpdlk1GLpdv8/s320/ChristPantocrator2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus
wants 3 things from us just now. (1) That we delve deeply into history, for
there is so much that is noble, and so much that is tawdry; this is how we
understand ourselves, the perils and the hope. (2) That we are gentle and merciful
with one another; you are the spitting image of God, your body is God’s temple,
you’re deeply broken, you have blind spots – and the same holds for the other
guy. And (3) That we aren’t saved by thinking right about statues or flags or
parties or positions; they all matter, but they are as substantial as that
crumbled statue Shelley portrayed in “Ozymandias.” God alone is God. God alone
can save.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-31214379507759020542020-06-02T17:54:00.001-07:002020-06-02T17:54:33.957-07:00My Message on Race to my Church Family<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> As your pastor, I’ve had many questions
about our church’s response to the turmoil we’re witnessing in our city and
nation. We begin of course in grief, in prayer, trying to feel the pain in
God’s heart, straining to hear the pain in the hearts of all God’s people. We
are to bring healing, to be a light to the nations, the salt of the earth
(Matthew 5:13), the repairers of the breach (Isaiah 58:12). It’s time, past
time really, for the Church to be the Church.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Church has always been looked to in
times of crisis for moral leadership. In Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan, some
religious people walked on by; but one stopped to help (Luke 10:29). When
something is not of God, we speak up; we do something. We do so peacefully, and
full of love. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was both praised and criticized for
showing up for a protest gathering downtown on Sunday. The clergy of our city
are always asked by officials to be present, to stand in the breach as a buffer,
to be a calming, peacemaking force. Clergy, on behalf of their churches, show
up in communities to show the church cares. I know we all care. As your pastor,
I embody your care to others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone I know shudders over looting,
breaking windows, smashing police cars. These are crimes, to be dealt with as
crimes. But we can’t let the tiny fraction of people who take advantage of
situations like this (and many truly are instigators from outside our city) drown
out the voices of pain. We recall that our country has a long and honorable
tradition of civil disobedience. The patriots of the Revolution, seeking
freedom, broke laws. The Boston Tea Party was, after all, looting… Martin
Luther King, Jr., deliberately and peacefully broke the law, and was more than
willing to be imprisoned. Very different from petty looting, isn’t it? And
during the Civil Rights movement, a turning point came when TV focused eyes on
police brutality. After watching Bull Connor, Americans said “No more.” Jesus
himself was a peaceful protester, and it cost him his life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Racism persists as a nagging, unsolved
challenge to the good society we dream of. And it’s not out there somewhere. I
laughed out loud the first time I saw <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Avenue
Q</i> when it came to the song “<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RovF1zsDoeM">Everyone’s
a little bit racist</a>.” Like all white
people, I carry lingering shadows of attitudes that were deeply ingrained in me
at a young age. I have to pray and work on that, as we all do. Studies show
white people’s pulses rise when they encounter a black person on a sidewalk. No
condemnation of anyone here; as Christians we are always striving to be more
faithful and holy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What we have to remember, in thinking about
race, is that we are all people riddled by fear. Rev. Bill Roth mentioned to me
this week that “In the face of fear, we will either acknowledge and feel it, or
we’ll act it out, going on the offensive against those we fear.” We see and
feel these things constantly. Christian faith is a healing for fear, God’s
grace embracing us, telling us we are safe, and there’s comfort, no need to
judge or get angry or lash out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had some programs a couple of years ago
on <a href="file:///C:/Users/JHowell/Dropbox/myersparkumc.org/reconciliation">Racial Reconciliation</a>, and
they were great. My friend Bishop Claude Alexander of The Park here in town
pointed out in conversation the other day that “reconciliation” is a misnomer –
in that it implies we used to be together, we fell apart, and now we want to
reconcile. Whites and blacks were never together as Americans. Blacks were
brought here as slaves, and it’s been an uphill battle toward freedom ever
since. Somehow for me, James Baldwin’s wisdom resonates with me – that many white
Americans may have come to need black Americans, not just to work for them, but
to help them feel they’re better than somebody else. As Christians, we trust
God’s grace to heal us from any lingering hints of ever thinking anybody’s
better than anybody else.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span>In times like these, “white
privilege” and “white supremacists” are terms tossed around. I am someone who’s
worked hard. I paid my own way through school. But no one ever sized me up by
skin color and assumed I would turn out poorly. If you befriend people of color
(and not just one!), let them share their experiences with you. You may learn
about privileges you didn’t realize you had. When we hear “white supremacists,”
we might think of rebel-flag-toting guys trying to revive the KKK. I often see and
feel something way subtler – when we white people think we understand black
people and what they should be doing, although we’ve not really listened to
them or lived in their shoes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So when people ask <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What can we do?</i> it’s not like making a donation or saying a prayer
or any one thing will change the world. We begin by listening. Make a friend
who looks different, stick with that friend over time to build trust, and then
listen, learn, share life together. If all the white Christians in Charlotte
had longstanding friendships with black Christians in Charlotte, we’d have a very
different city. I helped author and signed <a href="https://www.charlotteobserver.com/opinion/article243180156.html">a statement from white clergy and community leaders</a> simply saying “We are grieved, outraged, remorseful,
and weary… We are with you.” Reach out to someone who is black and share your
sorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What
can we do?</i> My answer is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Everything</i>.
Where do you walk, bike, hang out? Whom do your children play with? Where do
you shop? How do you vote and why? How do you engage in conversations about
other people with your friends? Or at home? Lots of people are finding
practical steps to take in this “<a href="https://medium.com/equality-includes-you/what-white-people-can-do-for-racial-justice-f2d18b0e0234">75 Things White People Can Do for Racial Justice</a>.” Ask questions. Have you phoned anybody? Lie awake
at night. Nathan Arledge and others recommend reading <a href="https://www.amazon.com/How-Be-Antiracist-Ibram-Kendi/dp/0525509283"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How To Be An
Antiracist</i></a>, by Ibram X. Kendi.
Maybe it’s not enough to say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m not
racist</i>. Maybe we have to be anti-racists, working with others against
racism.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For God asks us to be responsible, to be our
brother’s keeper, to love the stranger, never to rest until God’s blessings are
there for everybody. On this, I love Martin Luther King’s wisdom: “Cowardice
asks ‘Is it safe?’ Expediency asks ‘Is it politic?’ Vanity asks ‘Is it
popular?’ But, conscience asks, ‘Is it right?’ There comes a time when one must
take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but because
one’s conscience tells one that it is right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>** Your
thoughts and perspectives, and your ideas about what God is calling our church
to do and be are welcome! Email </i><a href="mailto:input@mpumc.org"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">input@mpumc.org</i></a><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">, or me
directly, </i><a href="mailto:james@mpumc.org"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">james@mpumc.org</i></a></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-9670144298845959862020-05-28T07:01:00.002-07:002020-05-28T07:22:04.919-07:00A Wicked Monotony: George Floyd<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There is a wicked monotony to the righteous rage sparked by unjust deaths that lights up Facebook for a few days, which then subsides after a few days when we get distracted again. George Floyd, Walter Scott, Eric Garner, Freddie Gray, Philando Castile, Alton Sterling, Michael Brown... Who can remember them all? Everyone is SO upset. We trot out our justice memes and strut our credentials as crusaders for justice - and then nothing changes until another name is added to the roll call that condemns, not the police or anybody else, but all of us. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We get the society we are. We get the institutions we ask for. It's a Democracy. "We the people..." The racism is ours, not somebody else's. The willingness to keep institutions that do unjust harm is ours. The patience with bizarre unacceptability is ours. We complain about our leaders. We get the leaders we vote for. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Every time there is a mass shooting, we hear the droning chorus of “Our thoughts and prayers go out to the victims." God must laugh, weep or yawn. Do something! Such prayers are a pathetic salve to make ourselves feel better, while we wait for the next mass shooting to tickle our praying fancy once more. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So after another race-based, unjust death, filmed for the world to witness, we launch our righteous memes, we shake our heads and shudder with like-minded friends, maybe a sermon dares to express contempt for the sin of racism. God watches, listens – and then God laughs, weeps, or yawns. Surely God, if we could get quiet enough to hear God, is saying Friends, I gave you dominion and freedom. If you're serious, which I question, then change your world. The injustice of unjust deaths, and the injustice of outraged chatter are killing me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">How innocuously we then ask What can one person do? The powerful secret of a Democracy is that one person actually does matter. So a few questions for us individuals who plead feeling overwhelmed and unable: whom do you vote for and why? Where do you hang out? What streets do you walk down? Whom do you have real relationships with? Have you phoned anybody? Have you probed deeply into yourself to detect white privilege and unnoticed bias? What vapid diversion will grab your attention in a few days as George Floyd slides out of mind? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The answer to What can one person do? is Everything. Look at your whole life and ask questions. Keep asking questions. Converse with others, not the day after a death but three weeks later. Name injustice everywhere. Struggle to sleep at night. Keep shuddering.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wonder about repentance. I spoke at a local synagogue’s Kristallnacht service a couple of years ago. I veered off from my notes, and found myself saying to the Jewish community, On behalf of Christendom, we are so very sorry. Tellingly, quite a few Jews embraced me in gratitude - but three Christians in the crowd told me I had zero authority to say such a meaningless thing. Isn’t it time for good white Christians, not to condemn racism out there somewhere, but to take a knee in humility before one African American, and then another, maybe whole communities or churches, and say On behalf of white Christendom, we are so very sorry. I don’t think God would laugh, or weep, or yawn. I think God would then say This. Finally. Thank you. So what’s next?</span>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-75997003767278880762019-11-27T11:14:00.001-08:002019-11-27T12:28:03.568-08:00Beauty Will Save the World<span style="font-family: georgia, serif;"> The Russian novelist Dostoevsky wrote, "Only Beauty will save the world." With so much ugliness in the
world, I wonder if </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtDrlk7vnkI" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Jewel’s
song</a><span style="font-family: georgia, serif;"> lyric might bring us some hope: “Maybe if we are surrounded in beauty,
someday we will become what we see.”</span><br />
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</span>God has strewn beauty all over the place, but we neglect it: we hurry
right by and don’t notice, or we have forgotten to name it when we see it. A
dandelion, a carefully arranged place setting, an old photograph, the tree in
your yard, a wrinkled face, clouds, a tune, a historical moment, commitments,
the face in the mirror: beauty is all around, waiting to be noticed, cherished,
pointed to, shared. And all of it reveals God’s heart to us. Want to see God? </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">“Every experience of beauty points to
infinity” (Hans Urs von Balthasar).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How
good of God to stir so much beauty into the mix when God created everything! It
could have been all dirt, rock, efficiency, productivity. God, like the artist,
created what was unnecessary, inefficient. Why did God not only leave space for
beauty, but elevate it to its status as the one thing that thrills the heart
and leaves us feeling noble, giving immense dignity to the smallest creature?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>St. Thomas Aquinas’s answer? “God created
the universe to make it beautiful for himself by reflecting his own beauty.”
God is a great many things – but at the center of it all, God is beauty. Ours
is to notice, to be awed, to be delighted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve all heard that “Beauty is in the eye
of the beholder,” but it’s a lie. It’s not a matter of taste, or private preference.
When we shrink things down to a private, opinionated list of what I like or
don’t like, we’re the losers. As we explore Beauty, we’ll learn to see better,
to see what God sees: every person, every thing, pretty or glitzy or not,
partakes in the goodness and beauty of God. We’re surrounded in it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, beauty also gets twisted and
perverted, and there’s so much desecration. Isn’t most ugliness really beauty
that’s gotten scared or fallen on hard times? And aren’t we adept at pinpointing
what’s ugly when there’s actually beauty there? For instance, there is a beauty
in suffering. You may know this from experience… Or the stunning array of
colorful leaves in Autumn: what you’re looking at is death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Faith isn’t merely a belief God exists, or access to help when you’re in trouble, or your calling card to get into heaven. Faith is seeing as God sees. It’s a readiness to be astonished. It’s inefficient and unproductive, this pondering of beauty – and so it’s like prayer, a wasting of time, and yet what we crave deep in our souls. Nothing else really will satisfy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> Paul, from a dark, dank stone prison, wrote, “Whatever is noble, whatever is beautiful, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about these things” (Philippians 4:8). God has strewn beauty all over the place. The least we can do is notice. Maybe we will become what we see.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I'm beginning a months-long project on Beauty. Through </span></span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/james.howell.167" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Facebook</a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> (with a </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/CLTBeautiful/?eid=ARALS2ppQ2tbxjhun28d6ncUpYuXdjbG52LvRb_YsxBAUL710IMawExm-pFjkUGBvBcn197GCUqpwqQq" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">special page if you’re in Charlotte</a>) and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/cltbeautiful/" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Instagram</a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> I'll be posting stories, photos, quotes and more. I'd love for you to </span><a href="mailto:james@mpumc.org" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Email me</a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> pictures or stories. Not thinking "pretty" or even "attractive" but "beautiful," which may be surprising, subtle, humble, even dark. We have some great programs lined up, with former Mayor Harvey Gantt (Jan. 7), Jeremy Begbie of Cambridge and Duke, Ray Barfield, doctor and theologian, and Chas Fagan, sculptor and painter.</span></div>
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James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-12941523788520994202019-11-26T09:04:00.000-08:002019-12-05T09:08:26.104-08:00The Absolutely Beautiful Face<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> The Russian
novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky suggested that "Beauty will save the
world." If not beauty, then what would save the world? Might? Money? Fun?
Politicians? Arms? Gritting our teeth and trying harder?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Christians say
"Jesus will save the world" - which is true. Dostoevsky, again, said
"There is only one face in the whole world which is absolutely beautiful:
the face of Christ." Was Jesus handsome? Maybe, maybe not. Jesus must have
exhibited something compelling in his persona. He must have been
"attractive," in that people were attracted to him. His words
intrigued. His compassionate embrace of any and everybody was alluring. People
asked him questions endlessly; he usually responded with a question, which says
to the other person <i>You too are beautiful and wise, although you might not
have been told this before</i>. Busy people dropped everything and traipsed off
after him, without knowing where they were going or how things would turn out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I love St.
Augustine's pensive praise of Jesus: "He is beautiful in heaven, beautiful
on earth, beautiful in the womb, beautiful in his parents' arms..." He rambled
further on this, but I want us to pause and ponder how Jesus was
"beautiful in the womb" and then "beautiful in his parents'
arms." It's 20 days until Christmas. Don't think shopping days, but
imagine Jesus in his mother's womb, with 20 days to go. The Savior of the
world, there but not quite having arrived just yet. Dependent, like us. It's
dark, like our world. Cramped, with painful squeezes now and then. Before long
he'll undergo considerable trauma, exit the dark waters of the womb and land in
his parents' arms, out in the air, on the starlit earth, in the manger. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7AVR2tf3WIrYuWR3MpJKOYUlRSDdb62MXjASu3CME-sWBhgmWz-PN5zyVP0o0Aj765A_wawweNWcoVJ1PZXXChymLad2nSieN2Oq6Oeahjd2uI6W4tA4ZBmXB4oKrp2V0xjYsKfbhCo/s1600/Rembrandt-Adoration-of-Shepherds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7AVR2tf3WIrYuWR3MpJKOYUlRSDdb62MXjASu3CME-sWBhgmWz-PN5zyVP0o0Aj765A_wawweNWcoVJ1PZXXChymLad2nSieN2Oq6Oeahjd2uI6W4tA4ZBmXB4oKrp2V0xjYsKfbhCo/s320/Rembrandt-Adoration-of-Shepherds.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> This wee one would
save the world. There's something evangelistic about Beauty. If you see
something beautiful, you're compelled to share. Snap a photo, or point; try to
describe it. <i>If only others could see this!</i> Isn't that the way the
Christian message, the glory that is God gets shared?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Beauty is so...
democratic. It's for everyone. Every person is immensely qualified to notice
and appreciate it. Yet so many miss it. You have to slow down. A knack for
beauty requires some cultivation. After all, an educated farmer might have a
far better chance than a Ph.D. in chemistry when it comes to noticing beauty.
Just as each one of us was, at some point, just like Jesus, in our mother's womb,
just days from being born, so each one of us is surrounded by beauty. And each
instance of beauty is one more kaleidoscopic refraction of the beauty that is
the face of Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8GgTEXv02T3UJ-ymnGwG1hlIhaWQbiEouzG0LB5DDZV4Sqs-GrCI6LRHLpw-SlGXYGZMhKmCYyXj5VajzkRwtS1znT-e8__4dpxavFCT-qaajVazGpG1Onf6JWyu7b_OLbL6uWkyF700/s1600/ScarryBeauty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="310" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8GgTEXv02T3UJ-ymnGwG1hlIhaWQbiEouzG0LB5DDZV4Sqs-GrCI6LRHLpw-SlGXYGZMhKmCYyXj5VajzkRwtS1znT-e8__4dpxavFCT-qaajVazGpG1Onf6JWyu7b_OLbL6uWkyF700/s320/ScarryBeauty.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Advent is a season
of repentance. Repentance isn't groveling in guilt. It's turning toward God.
It's a changed mind. Elaine Scarry says that "beautiful things have been
placed here and there in the world to serve as wake-up calls." This
Advent, keep an eye out for beauty. Be awakened to it. Turn toward God, who is
Beauty. Share with somebody.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-73374677903351449382019-11-25T14:33:00.000-08:002019-12-13T14:34:06.360-08:00The Beauty of Trees<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> Many
of us have just erected a tree indoors. "O Christmas Tree, O Christmas
Tree." Aren't all of them works of art? Charlie Brown's pathetic little
tree "just needed a little love."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImpoX90ozVj9Z6ei8UJTWqVU7GAkQaWZLXHVYbjRed-2a5QQ8EJGymHhaGUUj5I-gT1C6ZcSL6vbxCZIXi3r7aTWdI1bJewGwfYJmnv2WD_BagSw1hFGePpbS5Wi8zcoGWbUnCyjQGLY/s1600/trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImpoX90ozVj9Z6ei8UJTWqVU7GAkQaWZLXHVYbjRed-2a5QQ8EJGymHhaGUUj5I-gT1C6ZcSL6vbxCZIXi3r7aTWdI1bJewGwfYJmnv2WD_BagSw1hFGePpbS5Wi8zcoGWbUnCyjQGLY/s320/trees.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , serif;">
Thomas Merton said "A tree gives glory to God by being a tree."
Indeed. God made the tree. Like so many of God's most beautiful gifts, the
strength is unseen, the roots reaching deep into the ground providing
nourishment and stability, the rings within telling a story of years of growth,
weathering storms, seasons passing. Beauty takes much time, and much is hidden.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLmtd6xReP7O96md1-MoJeegdZ-CpXmsnlAHzxr54vX9nZTR3bll4cYqrxwaKKzRr0s6lURRY3dNdTe-Q7GTsU9hDdmM39Dhzvakm_9fUrS6kwbZA5gLe6ajPR6TsV3OYa72NAj0hYnQ/s1600/OVERSTORY-610x851.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="610" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLmtd6xReP7O96md1-MoJeegdZ-CpXmsnlAHzxr54vX9nZTR3bll4cYqrxwaKKzRr0s6lURRY3dNdTe-Q7GTsU9hDdmM39Dhzvakm_9fUrS6kwbZA5gLe6ajPR6TsV3OYa72NAj0hYnQ/s320/OVERSTORY-610x851.jpg" width="229" /></a></div>
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My book club just read <i>The Overstory</i> (which won Richard Powers the
Pulitzer Prize!), the saga of nine quirky people who gradually find one another
and protest the destruction of forests. My mind was blown, and awestruck by the
wonder that trees and forests are, as Powers unpacks immense information about
them while spinning his drama. Trees communicate, grieve and network. It's
tree-hugger heaven: "Patricia sees it in one great glimpse: trees and
humans, at war over the land and water and atmosphere. And she can hear, louder
than the quaking leaves, which side will lose by winning." Frankly, as
Christians, we have great cause to hug, admire, and protect trees, for our own
good, and as an act of praise of the one who created them. Beauty isn't
something we wantonly chop down for short-term profits; we revere and preserve
beauty.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis0kQM9rLEGY-UPEW5c0d7smzCHIji_49-9O_x9Ev5G7LsbPeBdR0hlv1lpZMECxqwjo9Zht8kwGNFsgg3zMnERn8ZzRile_mjoxgG-0T5sMLmRO5sy97GeRc_YevYJcwfEcDGQwiPX44/s1600/Treebeard.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="201" data-original-width="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis0kQM9rLEGY-UPEW5c0d7smzCHIji_49-9O_x9Ev5G7LsbPeBdR0hlv1lpZMECxqwjo9Zht8kwGNFsgg3zMnERn8ZzRile_mjoxgG-0T5sMLmRO5sy97GeRc_YevYJcwfEcDGQwiPX44/s1600/Treebeard.jpeg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , serif;">
J.R.R. Tolkien loved trees, and created (in <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>)
treelike creatures who speak "Old Entish": "It is a lovely
language, but it takes a very long time saying anything in it, because we do
not say anything in it, unless it is worth taking a long time to say, and to
listen to." The beauty of words, the beauty of listening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">
Jesus was an apprentice in his father's woodworking shop, and spotted
diminutive Zaccheus up in a sycamore tree. He prayed under a gnarled olive
tree, "Not my will but yours be done." Then he was nailed to a tree.
A medieval poem, "The Dream of the Rood," imagined the wood of Jesus'
cross narrating its own life. "I was a sapling by the edge of the woods.
One day men cut me down, staked me up, and brought the young hero, nailing him
to my branches. I trembled under his weight; his sweat and blood soaked into
me. Later, they threw me into a pit. But then others found me, and adorned me
with gold and jewels. Now people look up to me seeking healing and hope."</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Recently
a friend reminded me of a song by <a alt="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lK7y-uXtha4&feature=youtu.be" href="http://r20.rs6.net/tn.jsp?f=001sL0C9Dp6a6G3_UfHfYbZcCUaQIZNPu1X-nPr7oN-JjhsemX6P6UG61_TD3NDhCLGTybIFy-sMJw6X3xr2fkEd0ia5T1Pq9apuz7IBTdTcTcI2qHUmsJbgBKtd68L0ekmWraMyU-85cmKibj11qYrwlnjtVILav_kLTwzGx5zVPUkCt5S0YWgNIgkBhrxoKz2W7RWLlJ_mpmbL-OXpl_q8IYKx99sRVkpobEZDxSZfzo=&c=X1-Z0irXa2-Tug6yWMF3Pt9-OcCYuzRy2WwIeBCvCARBOlRKWY_uDg==&ch=ocPUqrJc-lP2O1dY1G1SdpIK1LXW-u9m0x_6a-RvUh4NiWFLl4C0tw==" shape="rect" target="_blank">Nicole
Nordeman</a>, which reflects on the season "when the trees have just
surrendered, forfeiting their leaves, bracing for colder winds," and how
everything in creation "finally falls asleep," that "even now,
in death, you open doors for life to enter." What greater gift do we have
than trees to enable us to dream of life after death, and the beauty of God's
unfailing provision and care?</span>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-33346618385252203822019-11-24T14:34:00.000-08:002019-12-13T14:37:08.271-08:00The Most Beautiful Woman<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Mary, great with child,
the most beautiful woman in history. The sentence you just read reframes
something complicated, and weirdly demeaning to all of us: putting the words
"woman" and "beautiful" in the same sentence. Some external
measures get stuck on women's bodies; sophomoric frat guys, and some older men
too, "rate" women on their "looks." It's belittling to all
women, and frankly to all men, this kooky swirl of viewpoints about women and
their value (or lack thereof).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> If we say
Mary is the most beautiful woman ever, we've used the word "beauty"
wisely and more profoundly. Mary didn't just win the Nazareth Beauty Pageant
when the angel visited her. Artists paint her as very pretty (but not sexy!),
with flawless skin, way too white for a middle-Eastern woman, dressed like a
nun. Fine - but truly, her beauty was in her humility, her holiness, her
humanity. Her beauty was that she was chosen by the angel, singled out by God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Last week,
we contested the familiar idea that "Beauty is in the eye of the
beholder," as if it's subjective, a matter of personal opinion. The Irish
poet John O'Donohue reverses things: "If our style of looking becomes
beautiful, then beauty will become visible and shine forth for us. We will be
surprised to discover beauty in unexpected places where the ungraceful eye
would never linger. The graced eye can glimpse beauty anywhere." The
angel's graceful eye spotted Beauty in a remote village, in a young woman who
was like most young women. In fact, the Gospel would be that God doesn't choose
some few super-people. God sees the beauty, the potential to carry God, to be
the one used by God, in all women, and hence they are all... the most beautiful
woman ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0z9cQEbwlIee9fDn-fpLIrKP7IHf3BmBPiz0KI0XKUNhpFHEQ13Mll7ULTqsyufjsOBg0jTuYOivQn7RXc0RpmVmDuBgmOoLBCo1HiSO6ZPUjQy8kLR_sjJJ8_B3-0llCWQ-kIAHaXXo/s1600/Vanier.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0z9cQEbwlIee9fDn-fpLIrKP7IHf3BmBPiz0KI0XKUNhpFHEQ13Mll7ULTqsyufjsOBg0jTuYOivQn7RXc0RpmVmDuBgmOoLBCo1HiSO6ZPUjQy8kLR_sjJJ8_B3-0llCWQ-kIAHaXXo/s1600/Vanier.png" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> We talk a
lot, and glibly, and yet hopefully, about love. What is love? It's having this
graceful eye. Jean Vanier wrote that " To love someone is not to do
things <i>for </i>them, but to reveal to them their beauty and value,
to say 'You are beautiful. You are important. I trust you. You can trust
yourself.' We all know well that we can do things for others and in the process
crush them, making them feel that they are incapable of doing things by
themselves. To love someone is to reveal to them the light that is shining in
them."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> The angel
said to Mary "You are beautiful... You can trust yourself." Mary
surely said that repeatedly to her young son, Jesus. And his whole life was
delivering that message, with his words and actions, to everyone he
encountered, and to us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> I will spend
some time during these days just pondering the beauty of Mary, while I try to
cultivate my own graced eye that can spot beauty any and everywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-6257051979559790482019-09-08T12:19:00.002-07:002019-09-12T13:23:30.420-07:00Methodist Slime, Scum, Sloths and Slugs<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">I’m one who has urged us United Methodists
to be generous listeners, and full of love and respect even when we disagree
strongly on homosexuality or other issues. I’m one who is mortified when
politicians are ugly toward one another, with vicious attacks and mean-spirited
name-calling.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So how jarring was it for me when I recently
read Carlos Eire’s wonderful book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Reformations</i>,
which narrates those seemingly heroic and theologically profound moments in the
Protestant and Catholic Reformations of the 16<sup>th</sup> century. We lionize
Martin Luther for his 95 theses – but they are a ferocious assault on fellow
churchmen, accusing them of greed, avarice, blasphemy and madness, threatening
them with eternal damnation. His restraint in 1517 was remarkable, as over the
next few years he published vitriolic critiques of other theologians, including
fellow Protestants, calling them stinking mushrooms, dumb dogs, idiots, toad-eaters,
blockheads, the devil’s donkeys, and worse.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> The pope returned the favor and
dubbed Luther a wild boar. Thomas Müntzer, himself a Reformer, couldn’t bear to
utter Luther’s name, so spoke of him as Dr. Liar, Malicious black raven, Father
pussyfoot, and Rabid Fox. John Calvin parted ways with both of them and the
Catholics, slandering those who disagreed with him as vermin, slime, scum,
swine and fiends.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing new in this savage barrage of words.
I also recently read Philip Jenkins’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jesus
Wars</i> and Ramsay MacMullen’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Voting
About God in Early Church Councils</i>, which remind us that the early
Christian councils (Nicaea, Chalcedon, Ephesus) featured outbreaks of violence.
Delegates were beaten up en route.. Papers were seized and burned. During
breaks in the deliberations, thugs broke the knees of wrong-thinking voters.
Heretics’ tongues were cut out, floggings and stabbings were inflicted in
Christ’s name. All this in an urgent desire to say true things about the Trinity,
Christ’s nature, Mary’s role, and sin and grace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By contrast, we United Methodists look a
bit pale, mamby-pamby, timid and mild-mannered softies. All we do is sigh and
bristle a little. But there’s a bigger contrast. During the Reformation, as
during the decades of the great Church councils, the finest theologians held disputations
and colloquys where they laid out their cases, submitting their arguments to
the public for judgment. Transcripts of these debates are weighty and
impressive on all sides. No vague or flabby stances, never just a few Bible
verses, and never a mere echo of the cultural biases of the culture. Instead,
theologians analyzed the original sources, in Hebrew and in Greek, in
considerable depth, citing the Church’s most esteemed authorities through
history (Origen, Jerome, Augustine, Aquinas) and even the wisest philosophers
ever (Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How bland, how thin, how feeble we United
Methodists have been in our conversations that we concede should divide God’s
church. We never talk to each other much at all, and certainly don’t devise
profound, complex cases, much less subject them to critique, judgment and even
correction. I've not seen a single public debate where knowledgeable people dig in and debate, subjecting themselves to scrutiny and judgment. We pretty much preach to our own choirs. </span><span style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I never hear any finesse, any profundity, any Greek or Hebrew, or
any ecclesiastical or philosophical authorities. What might Luther, Teresa of Avila or Dietrich Bonhoeffer have to expand our horizons? How might engagement with Martin Heidegger, Jacques Derrida or Richard Rorty inform how we answer the world's questions? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: georgia, serif;"> I wonder what the Reformers or
the Early Church theologians might call us? Rev. Lazy Bones? Dr. Superficial?
Mr. Shallow Arguments? Ms. Play Nice? Eeyore pouting in the corner? Vapid deserters of Jesus’
church? Maybe slug? Or sloth? Should we take the gloves off – if not to hurl
angry epithets at one another, then to engage in some serious arguments?</span></div>
<br />James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-22740158726658256202019-06-15T18:55:00.002-07:002019-06-17T14:06:54.969-07:00"I Dreamed a Dream" of the United Methodist Church<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“When
the Lord restores Zion’s fortunes, we should be like dreamers” (Psalm 126:1, in
Robert Alter’s translation). I’ve been dreaming a lot lately: anxiety-rooted
dreams during the night (while asleep or lying awake), and more hopeful
daydreams when I probably should be working. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,
inspired us to dream. And so I have this dream, conceived in a good bit of
grief and fretting, and yet consummated in faith, hope and love – a dream of
what my church, and I mean both my United Methodist denomination and the parish
where I serve right now, might be, or dare I say it, will be. The Church really
is of God, as we say and trust.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dream of a church where homosexuality isn’t
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the</i></b>
thing, which it isn’t anyhow. Of course, one day it won’t be the big thing –
and the deep truth that it’s a temporary obsession lightens today’s burden, and
reminds us all that we have so many other tasks and so much beauty apart from
it. After all, it’s not as if we could come to a total embrace of the LGBTQIA+
community, or if we could manage somehow to put a stop to it, that the kingdom
will have dawned. That kingdom is about what we share, the redemptive love of
Christ from creation and forever, and being Christ’s Body, not what divides us.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
dream of a church where everyone would be blessed as I have by befriending and
loving people all across the theological and political spectrum. I wish
everyone knew the conservative, straight people I’ve known and know, who are
humble, holy and generous. I wish everyone knew the same gender couples I’ve
known and know, who seek God’s will and strive for missional holiness. I wish
everyone knew the very fruitful gay clergy I’ve known and know. I wish everyone
knew the very fruitful straight, conservative clergy I’ve known and know. <span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">There’s no enlightened elitism in this.
Knowing people deeply doesn’t settle moral questions. But it makes me, for one,
humbler, gentler and wiser, and it leaves me knowing we absolutely can and must
be in church together.</span> Once in a while someone declares that they have
detected which “side” I am on. In Christ’s Body, there aren’t sides, and there
aren’t winners and losers.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dream of a church where robust disagreement
is celebrated, and where theological debate is understood for the great gift
from God that it really is. I envy my Jewish friends, who chuckle at the notion
that there might be just one right answer to hard theological questions. It’s
God and God’s mysterious ways, after all – and we learn so much when we differ,
when our half-baked conclusions and jaded biases are exposed. Church, of all
places, should be a safe haven for intense debate among the faithful who can
vocalize their reading of God’s way in Scripture almost as well as they can
listen attentively and empathetically to other viewpoints. Such friends would
never belittle others, oversimplify the other’s beliefs, or sneak in false
assumptions.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
dream therefore of a church where we don’t stigmatize, mis-categorize or slander
anybody in God’s church. Many conservatives I know are humble, thoughtful
interpreters of Scripture and holiness, and should not be labeled and libeled
as “haters” or “narrow-minded,” even though a few probably are. Many progressives
I know are humble, thoughtful interpreters of Scripture and holiness, and
should not be labeled and libeled as “cultural sellouts” or “morally lax,”
although a few probably are.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dream of a church where we ponder and
honor the commitments to God and church made by others. We should all be jaw-dropping
awed by the marvelous truth that LGBTQIA+ United Methodists, despite years of
not being condoned or having access to the blessings of the church, have stayed.
That’s a grace I can’t quite comprehend. And the profound commitment of conservatives
who have stayed and struggled valiantly for good is grace too – although my dream
is also of a church where those who stay love, and never harm one another,
where no one’s full humanity is up for debate.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
dream of a church where no child of the church would ever even contemplate
suicide or running away or hiding the truth from loved ones or the pastor because
of an emerging sexual orientation. God wants a church where an adolescent,
discovering same gender attraction, would not cower in terror, but be able to
share openly and be embraced by the church instead of floundering in denial and
then rejecting the church itself.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dream of a church where all are welcome,
not as a slogan, sign or mat at the front door, but in living habit and
embodied demeanor, when we fully grasp that if everybody isn’t welcome,
nobody’s welcome, and if the blessings of God’s church aren’t for everyone,
they are nothing but a charade for the few. None of us have sufficient merit,
knowledge or faith to qualify for the church’s blessings. Thankfully, they are
all free.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
dream of a church that relishes the fact that God can and does call anybody
into ministry. It’s God, after all, who calls. We have had, have and will have
gay clergy among us – thankfully. I realize there are many who are un<span lang="EN">comfortable
with the idea of gay clergy. I’d encourage them to meet, listen to and ask
questions of gay clergy, and at least open their hearts to the possibility of
what God can do. As we celebrate the stellar ministries gays and straights have
had among us for decades, we dream of a church where clergy are valued for
their call and fruitfulness, and that we <span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">never have to say No </span>to any person sensing a nudge from the Holy
Spirit into ordained ministry simply because of their sexual orientation.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span lang="EN"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br /></span>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dream of a church where the question of
who can marry isn’t settled as long as it’s male and female. Christian marriage
is a mystery, a symbol of Christ and the church, two people prayerfully
determined to do God’s will, and a hospitality that is eager to share love with
those to whom love is a stranger. I understand that many Christians are uncomfortable
with same gender marriage. I’d encourage them to meet, listen to and ask
questions of same gender Christian, United Methodist couples, and at least open
their hearts to the possibility of what God can do. It may just be that our
debate over marriage might awaken everyone to the glorious marvel Christian
marriage is intended to be and can still be.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
dream of a church where those of us who sense it is of God for us to marry same
gender couples who are committed to Christ and are responding to God’s call to
marital fidelity may do so without recrimination. <span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">Clearly, saying “All are welcome” is no longer enough.
The United Methodist LGBTQIA+ community and those who love them are weary and
appalled by living as second class members. They seek, and we seek for them,
the full blessings of God’s church.</span> All clergy I know are offering
nothing but their holy best to God, including those who don’t conduct same
gender marriages due to conscience. Punishment serves no one well – except the
devil, who delights in Jesus’ followers afflicting one another.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dream of a denomination organized around
doing good and not judging others, so we are about shared mission rather than
taking little-heeded stances on the political issues of the day. I dream of the day when our energies are rightly directed - toward reconciliation, poverty, injustice, race, and so many other issues and people, rather than who thinks right on just one issue or even many.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br /></span>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dream of a denomination in which, if we
have to have a book like the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Book of
Discipline</i>, it’s a book that is never thought of as a divinely inspired
instrument of blame or exclusion, and instead opens doors and hearts, inviting
its people and congregations to life and being reshaped after the mind and
heart of Christ.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br /></span>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dreams are elusive, and
forces conspire to tamp down and squelch holy dreams. We get cynical, or we get
realistic and strategic, or we get mad. Understandably. But God promised that
“in the last days,” when God’s Spirit is finally poured out on us, “your young
will see visions, and your old shall dream dreams” (Acts 2:17). Dream with me.
God is even now pouring out God’s Spirit on us.</span><span style="color: red; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-48702002819429757112019-05-08T06:39:00.000-07:002019-05-08T13:08:17.669-07:00How LBJ's Biographer is Helping my Preaching<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgp2M8hviy8Udx2ECG8n5UlvavcnylTp10vXLIk1PyEhr3spLEv_DEs6urHvXLMWSLVsmxazvvbq9W5mvqcWPb1zaMCjV1loJyRwFh42QQhjCh_MMHpHDYXnXor_4uLIk-PZK2IJppB7M/s1600/CaroWorking2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1083" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgp2M8hviy8Udx2ECG8n5UlvavcnylTp10vXLIk1PyEhr3spLEv_DEs6urHvXLMWSLVsmxazvvbq9W5mvqcWPb1zaMCjV1loJyRwFh42QQhjCh_MMHpHDYXnXor_4uLIk-PZK2IJppB7M/s320/CaroWorking2.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I continue learning how to preach from
unlikely tutors. Robert Caro, the Pulitzer prize-winning biographer of Lyndon
Baines Johnson, recently put out a little book (called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Working</i>) about how he researches, thinks and writes, and why. I
kept circling this and that, prompting fresh thoughts about how I preach.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Caro is maddeningly slow, turning out a
volume about LBJ about once every nine years. Preachers can’t afford such a
luxury – but I realize I’ve prided myself in churning out sermons more rapidly
as I get older. Maybe that’s not such a good thing, even if I feel it’s good
enough, or done enough. Caro is a perfectionist, always looking to uncover one
more fact, or to recraft one more sentence so it evokes just the right mood.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Caro was writing about Johnson’s
childhood, he felt he wasn’t understanding all he hoped to understand. So he
not only visited the area. He and his family moved to the Hill Country of Texas
for three years. Mind you, this makes me think of God taking up residence among
us for… yes, three years. I also wonder: How do I go there in preaching? I’ve
been lucky to visit Palestine, Turkey and Greece. With video, online photos and
virtual stuff you can find, any of us can go to the wilderness of Judea and notice it isn’t flat sand but a rocky, sandy zone with steep hills. The Jordan River is a muddy creek. You can even see an artist's rendering of Caesarea Philippi and realize that it was before the Cave of Pan and a thicket of imperial temples that Jesus asked, "Who do they say that I am?"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Caro is the master of</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> what he calls the </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“sense
of place,” “helping the reader to visualize the physical setting in which the
action is occurring: to see it clearly enough, in sufficient detail, so that he
feels as if he himself were present while the actions is occurring.” Caro’s
next thought intrigues me when I think of preaching, and creating this sense of
places: “If a reader can visualize them for himself, then he may be able to
understand things without the writer having to explain them; seeing something
for yourself always makes you understand it better.” Might I, in preaching,
describe a place, its texture and temperature, its light, color and shadow, and
my listeners will grasp more than I know to tell them?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Places, as we all know, evoke emotion. So,
“the better the place is envisioned, the more the reader might feel the emotion.”
Speaking of emotion: when Caro went to the Hill Country, he found it took a
while for the people to trust a guy from New York. Eventually they opened up.
Very old women described what life was like before electricity. The dark. The
loneliness. The labor required. One woman handed him a heavy bucket of water
and asked him to carry it up the hill to her house. He did. What was life like
for Mary? Or for Sarah? How dark was the sky at night (or how bright, as they
could see millions more stars than we can)? How lonely did Abraham or Elijah
feel in that place? Was there a breeze? A multisensory depiction of a Bible
scene should be far more fruitful than me trying to “make the Bible relevant
today.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love this: Caro asked Johnson’s brother,
Sam Houston Johnson, to go with him to visit the LBJ childhood home. He asked
him to sit at the dinner table, in the very seat where he sat growing up. He
waited a long time in the quiet before Sam began to talk about the toxic, harsh
relationship between Lyndon and his father. Interviewing people is the key to
Caro’s work – and he explains that in interviews, “Silence is the weapon,
silence and people’s need to fill it.” His notebooks are full of notations and
comments – and regularly you can find in big letters SU. “Shut up.” While
interviewing, instead of filling a quiet moment, he reminds himself to SU.
Eventually the interviewee begins to say more. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am thinking I should never preach
without interviewing some people. And observing the SU counsel. I might
interview a Bible character. Howard Thurman famously asked Jesus what he was
thinking on that Palm Sunday as he jogged along the back of that donkey. Talk
to Elijah: how did it feel during that crackling, scary storm? Ask Peter how it
felt to be engulfed in the water. Ask Paul what Silas’s voice sounded like in
the Philippian jail.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or interview some live people. Phone up a
scholar at your alma mater and ask a hard question. If you have a neighbor who’s
not a churchgoer, ask him what he thinks about David dissing Michal. Talk with
a pregnant woman in your church, or a mom who lost a child. And SU. Listen.
Marvel. And ask more questions. Caro was advised by his first boss to “turn
every page, never assume anything.” So often in preaching we assume we know
things – about the text, about the Gospel, about our people. But ask questions.
It helps them to tell you. And you learn amazing things. That was the
Cappadocian way, right? You ask questions about God, and instead of getting
answers, you get three more questions.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Caro only appears to be a slow worker. He
actually works long hours, every day – and he’s in his eighties. His rule is
that he writes several pages every day. The more you write, the better you
write. Lots of it gets thrown away. I know my best preaching decisions are when
I toss something out. It might be a really good idea too. Caro researches
relentlessly. Then he pictures his entire thousand page book in a short
outline, with summaries of his key points, and then he fills in. Whatever doesn’t
fit that pre-arranged structure doesn’t make it into the book. Preaching would
be wise to adhere to such a discipline.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Caro taps away on an old Corona manual typewriter
– which is charming. But he only does so after writing several drafts in
longhand. That seems charming as well. He does this, he says, in order to slow him
down. With a pen and legal pad in hand, he thinks a long time before writing,
and as he writes. I did my sermons pen on paper for years. I am going to go
back to that, at least for a season.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, back to the idea of going to the
place and creating the sense of place. Caro interviewed several people who
reported that when Lyndon first came to Washington in 1931, he would show up
for work early, walking from a tiny, shabby apartment near Union Station. A
couple of folks oddly reported that he was often spotted running as he passed
in front of the Capitol. Caro thought this was interesting, but couldn’t figure
out why he ran, since he wasn’t late for work. After taking careful notes, he
decided to walk from Union Station to the Capitol along that same route at the
same time in the morning. What he noticed was the stunning way the rising sun
gleamed on the white face of the Capitol at that very hour. Johnson, thrilled
by the beauty of the light, broke into a run out of sheer joy and enthusiasm.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I’m preaching on Psalm 8, I’d best go
outside at night out in the country somewhere and stare upward for a while. If
I’m preaching on Genesis 32, I’d be wise to unroll a sleeping bag and sleep up
in the hills outside my city. If I’m preaching on Jesus’ Baptism, I might wade
into a stream nearby and feel the water. Then my people might be awed that the
God who strewed the stars across the night sky is mindful of them, and that a
sleepless night is a night in God’s unexpected presence. They might feel the
rush of the water, and a breeze, and sense God’s Spirit. For at least this next
season, I’m going to imagine Robert Caro going to work with me as I prepare to
preach.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <i>{My <a href="https://jameshowellsweeklypreachingnotions.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">weekly lectionary preaching blog</a> will try to incorporate some of these approaches in the coming weeks!}</i></span></span></div>
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James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-67992067310305532352019-03-02T07:20:00.004-08:002019-03-02T07:20:32.698-08:00Religion News Service Op-EdReligion News Service invited me to write an <a href="https://religionnews.com/2019/03/01/grieving-but-not-leaving-the-united-methodist-church/" target="_blank">op-ed</a> reflecting on General Conference. It has some fresh stuff I've not put here before.<br />
<br />James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-20102797505543443612019-02-26T15:23:00.001-08:002019-02-26T15:45:51.590-08:00What now that the vote is past?<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;">The Traditional Plan just passed by a vote of 438 to 384. I am not shocked, but deeply disappointed. A few observations:</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(1) "Traditional" is a bit of a misnomer. So much we associate with "tradition" is good. In this case, the church has traditionally condemned LGBTQ people, and this plan is a more ferocious version of what has been the tradition. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(2) We know that more than 2/3rds of the U.S. voted against this. A coalition of American conservatives (that's not really the right word either), Russians, Africans and some others appear to be forcing the issue, refusing to be in fellowship with centrists, moderates, progressives and young people in the denomination. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(3) What will unfold, we do not know. We and many others will be discerning how best to be faithful to God and to God's people. And much of this adopted plan has already been ruled unconstitutional.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(4) General Conference is NOT the church. The Church is where you attend, love, worship, learn, share. We do what we do at our church, not for a denomination, but for people seeking God. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(5) We will continue to stand with LGBTQ people and all of us who love them, who are wounded by this, unconditionally, always, joyfully. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(6) The best way for us, at Myers Park church, to support them and the hope for a church for all people, is to remain strong as a church. A weaker Myers Park will only weaken us. We are viewed around the denomination as a bright light of hope for centrists, progressives, and young people. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(7) God is still God, God is still good, and many of us believe a beautiful church of life and joy is coming to life even in the ruins of this conference.</span></span></span>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-10423685907443314692019-02-25T15:39:00.000-08:002019-02-25T18:05:28.108-08:00Where We Are Now at General Conference<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A conference like this is hard work, with
an intensity of emotion, and added pressure that this work is for God – and so
I am so very grateful for the many expressions of love, support, prayer and
encouragement from so many.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It shows me
how many people love God and God’s church, and care deeply about what we do
together for God. I’m sure some on both “sides” have prayed for me, and for the
conference – although the very idea of “sides” in God’s family breaks God’s
heart, and mine and yours. I have felt the love and solidarity, and it has
given me much strength and courage.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have come home from these conferences, and probably will this week, burdened by
a keen sense that I have failed some people, that they vested hopes in me
getting something done which I didn’t get done. It’s like preaching: it’s way
harder than it looks. So many factors, such a large, unwieldy body of divergent
people, much less the complicated process. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve always said that the virtue to the
Methodist church is that we meet and vote on many issues – and if you’re in the
43% that didn’t prevail, you don’t get excommunicated. I like being in a big tent
church where we have, expect, delight in and benefit from disagreement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is, until the disagreement harms
people. “First do no harm” is the core guideline – and yet harm gets done. I
have a clear calling, and I hope you’ll join me in this, to stand with those hurt
by the church on this or anything whatsoever, and to do all we can to stop harm
being done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At any rate, it appears that tomorrow some
version of the Traditional Plan (which “does not condone the practice of
homosexuality,” and thus won’t ordain or marry LGBTQ people) will prevail –
although there are constitutional quandaries, primarily around the fiercer form
being entertained. What that will mean won’t be pretty. We hear chatter about threatened
departures, maybe a whole new more accepting denomination? Who knows? We hear
that, quite understandably, our seminaries will be severing ties with that more
fiercely traditional church. The Church as we have known it will not be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am choosing, today, to be hopeful about
that, and to trust that God is bigger than a squabbling denomination, and that
God can use the many people here and those they represent who are doing their
dead level best to serve God faithfully. Some new, surprising life will rise up
out of the dark place where we have found ourselves. The Church you and I dream of, one that young people will live into, will dawn, is dawning. What that looks like I do
not know. What that means for the balance of my ministerial career, what I will do, I do not
know. What that means for the Church where I am privileged to be the pastor, I
do not yet know. But God is still God, and all will in time be well. God’s got
us. All will be well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would say that the highlight of the day
in many ways was a late in the day <a href="https://twitter.com/hey_savvy/status/1100163679952224258/video/1">speech
by J.J. Warren</a> that roused much of the crowd to its feet. Even if you are
on the other “side,” you have to adore this young person’s passion for Jesus
and those who don’t know Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have often said the most astonishing
sign of God’s grace in the church is that LGBTQ people who have been judged
harshly and told they are not “condoned” have stayed in the church, loved the
church, served alongside those who would rather be rid of them. God’s grace for
all of us looks just like that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If music helps you, check out my choir
singing “<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jIW0XS1shNI&feature=youtu.be">For
Everyone Born</a>” (by Brian Mann, arranged by Tom Trenney).</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br />James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8906785642559026493.post-68576109625260805492019-02-25T05:15:00.001-08:002019-02-25T05:18:12.130-08:00A Disappointing Day - and a Promise<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Last time General Conference met, I wrote a blog that went semi-viral entitled Thank God General Conference Is Not the Church. The Church really is the Church back home where you know and love, where you hurt and laugh and carry on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> When General Conference meets, we are more ambitious, and way less successful. Standing in the long security line yesterday (it's a football arena we're entering!), one woman dinged me for supporting our "One Church Plan," as it leaves room for people who would not condone her as a Lesbian pastor. Another guy who's been a friend forever, after I said Go Gamecocks! (knowing his and my football loyalties), he responded, "Well, I guess we do have that one thing in common." He's in the not-condoning homosexuality camp. I started to ask, "Uh, what about Jesus?" but let it go.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Both of them, like me, are in the Church in Jesus' heart. Can they be together in the Church here? Probably not back home - at least not in our still divided, not-entirely-converted selves. Here? What's a denomination anyhow? We join hands primarily to be in mission together - and Methodists still do this quite well. Many of us want to stop all this fussing and move on in mission together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Why do I bother with this struggle? First: Church should do no harm, and with a long-standing judgmental viewpoint against our members who aren't straight, and those who love them, we have heaped guilt and worse on thousands and thousands. There's also the futility of this long-standing "We do not condone the practice of homosexuality." Our not condoning has not prevented one person ever from being gay. You're just gay, or not, or you're something else - but all the Church teaching doesn't make you straight.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I get that some people we all know and love feel harmed if people who are different sexually are in the church. But this is interesting: if they "lost" (who wants winners and losers in Christ's church?), they would be angry (at least as I hear them speaking of it) - but if the LGBTQ "side" (who wants sides in Christ's church?) loses, they will be wounded. I am not smart enough to diagnose why this is, but it seems important.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> And I am in this struggle because of the way I read the inspired Word of God. Long story...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Yesterday was sad - for me, and not my Gamecock friend. We took sort of a straw poll to gauge which petitions should get attention, and in what order. Tops was our pension fund issues - which we are all interested in, so that's sensible. Keeping "we do not condone" and then two petitions to dissolve the whole denomination were next, and only then the One Church plan was ranked 5th - a shocker, as that was the official one we sent out a commission to bring back to us. We will see what today brings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Last night a bunch of us met to think, pray, plan, hope, grieve, worry, and love. How odd - a little improvised Church in the thick of the big Church. As Jesus intended it, I suppose.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> However it pans out, I will always and forever stand with all of God's children, including those who aren't condoned by others in the Church. You are loved. You belong. You are beautiful. We all are. We are all demeaned when we don't embrace everyone in God's Church. That's the one thing we should never condone for a nanosecond.</span>James C. Howellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15895862367707509715noreply@blogger.com