“What Makes Things Holy?” or “Damn It!”

Posted on April 14, 2014 by Timothy Brown

Today begins the long week of the church year that we call Holy Week.

Our Easter Vigil fire at my faith community…a fire of sacred flame used for lighting candles for a profane/sacred people.

It’s the culmination of this walk toward Jerusalem that we take with Jesus every year…and every year it’s called Holy Week.

Even when some years the week seems holier than others.

I remember my first Holy Week as a pastor. I spent most of every morning that first year coming early to the church to pray at the altar, with my prayer beads, being faithful to the hours as best I could.

This year, though, I spent this morning coming early to the crib of my son, with cheerios in hand, being faithful with breakfast as best I could.

And now, having been up for just as long but involved more in holy play than holy prayer, I’m reflecting on the difference.

Sure, I’ll keep the hours as best I can today, being mindful of Terce, Sext and None (though I’m a bit behind on Terce already), but I’ll do my best.

In college I took a course where we read a book called Holy Things by Gordon Lathrop, a premier Lutheran theologian, pastor, and scholar. I took exception to the title back then. Newly out of my atheist phase, “things” weren’t holy…only God was holy.

I was an idiot.

Now I see that things are, indeed, holy. Bread, wine, water, yes…all of this.

And time mindfully spent. And icons mindfully written. Sermons, songs, prayers, hands, beads, stained glass, more prayers…mindfully said or not.

Holy does not mean “magical,” by the way. That’s nonsense. I don’t have time for nonsense…there are holy things to attend to.

No. Holy means “set apart,” or better in the Latin, sacrum. Sacred.

It’s funny, in my tradition we set things apart all the time. But I meet so many with my college mindset who think nothing is holy; nothing is sacred.

And yet these are the people who I so often hear willing to damn people and things: that divorcee is in the wrong; that homosexual is an abomination; that movie, the song, that video is a disgrace to God.

So willing to damn things…so unwilling to lift things up as holy because it all seems so much hocus pocus.

That, actually, is most of us much of the time, I think. As if our damning isn’t just as much the hocus pocus of personal opinion, prejudice, and the trappings of self-righteousness.

What makes a thing holy? I’d say it’s purpose seen in light of the Divine. The purpose of our time spent together, the bread, the wine, the water, the beads, the hands laid on to heal…

What makes a thing profane? I’d say it’s probably us. We so often take the place of God, damning people, places, and things in righteous indignation.

Progressive Christians do this, too. You don’t get off the hook…no one does. The sacred/profane line is thin. So thin, in fact, that some might say it is imaginary…

But today, on this Holy Monday whose purpose it is to further our walk to Jerusalem as we lean toward Maundy Thursday, hear that time is set apart today for you to reflect on God’s work in your life, God’s purpose for your sacred existence, for the sacred existence of your neighbor, and this world.

And that purpose is not to damn you or any of it…

So spend a little less time doing that, and a little more time honoring things as sacred.

That, at least, is what I’m meditating on these hours.

The Seasons of the Church Year Aren’t Just for Decoration, Folks…

Posted on April 7, 2014 by Timothy Brown

So, funny enough, one of the things that I think makes the most sense about the way the church does things has to do with the liturgical season.

The liturgical calendar.

I’ve written about this before, but we’re at the tail-end of our Catechumenate class here at my faith community, and it’s come up again as we discuss the church year.

See, when I was an atheist, the only thing that kept me in the pew was practicing this greater current that we call “the liturgical calendar”; this greater movement that connected all of life together.

Which makes me wonder why all corners of the Christian church don’t follow the church calendar.

Because even though I couldn’t believe, I could sense, I knew, that whether or not there was a God, there was definitely life. And that life had seasons. Not just the outside world, not just flowers and hibernating bears and all that stuff, but my life had seasons.

Has seasons.

In fact, in the winters of my life, the ability to practice the season of the church was one of the most important things in the world to me.

Even as someone who had broken up with Jesus as his boyfriend.

And there’s some good wisdom to the church year. Like, for instance, that Lent is 40 days long, but Easter is 50 days long. If that is not an implicit message that your life will laugh more than it cries, I don’t know what is.

Or how that season that we call “Ordinary Time,” the time in the church year of spiritual growth, takes up almost fifty percent of the calendar. Take a look at your life. About half of your life will be spent learning and growing.

Lord, that’s deep wisdom.

And see, the church year helps us to practice these seasons in our lives. It gives us rhythm.

I like to talk about it as breath. The seasons of the church year help me to breathe. If you think yoga is good for your breath, dive deeply into the church calendar as a practice…

Because there are times in my life where I wait, and will have to wait: for diagnosis, for biopsy results, for birth, for a death. Advent helps me wait.

There are times in my life where I’ll need to do some adjustment, some realignment: after a disgrace, after a significant relationship break, in a season of vocational or personal drought. Lent helps me to do the introspective work necessary to live well.

There are times in my life of “Ah-ha” and “feeling most alive”: having a breakthrough, gaining insight, feeling zealousness over a cause. Epiphany and Pentecost teach me to be on the look out for these moments and not pass them by.

And there are times in my life for rejoicing, for birth and re-birth: in reconciliation, after a literal birth, on holidays, after an illness has passed, “sittin’ on the dock of the bay.” Christmas and Easter help me to celebrate well.

And the three days of that time we call “The Triduum,” Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil…well…that’s a whole life-span in one fell swoop. A life of serving, of dying, and of rising. And when it’s honored it is the most important gift of the church year.

It is Christ’s body emblazoned on a calendar. And it helps me see my body and my calendar and how they mix.

There is just such wisdom to the church year. It’s like a Mr. Miyagi for your soul: you “wax on” and “wax off” and think you’re not doing anything but refurbishing a car…and then, boom, you’re forced to wait or repent or celebrate or learn or grow.

And, as T.S. Elliot says, it’s like you “know the place for the first time”…and yet, you’ve been there before. It’s that familiar/foreign experience that this journey with God always puts upon us when practiced well.

A lot of churches are getting away from the liturgical calendar. And they do so at the expense of the Christians they serve. It has deep roots, even deeper than the church itself. The roots of marking time and specific periods goes all the way back to when our ancient mothers and fathers figured out that a dead seed will live again if planted, watered, tended, and nurtured.

And that the thing that grew from that would be good for you.

A friend of mine talked about going to a church on Easter Sunday one day. They had all the attraction details down: welcoming people, if you signed up on a bulletin board as a first time visitor Krispy Kreme donuts would be delivered to your house the next week, the music was loud, the pastor had an engaging sermon.

But they didn’t talk about the resurrection. They just talked about a personal relationship with Jesus Christ that was abstracted not only from Easter as a celebration day, but from the whole history of Christianity.

He said he left feeling…empty.

He had come for food, for deep roots, for a personal relationship in some ways, but also an historical relationship that lifted up so much more than just he and Jesus one-on-one time.

But he didn’t find it there because, Lord, if all we’re offering is shallow theology and Krispy Kreme donuts…well…skip the church service and just go to the coffee shop.

And many people, now, do.

And I think it’s probably because we haven’t really done a good job rooting them in this practice, this deeper rhythm.

Look, Christianity is nothing without Jesus. But Jesus, and a personal relationship with Jesus, is not all there is to Christianity, either. And the deeper undercurrent that speaks truth about the heartbeat of life, all life, that is made plain by the church calendar can and should be lifted up.

And it’s not just about changing church parament colors. It is about living differently in different seasons of life. It is about Ecclesiastes 3, and asking “what time is it?” for our lives personally and communally.

But instead we lift up an empty Jesus devoid of rootedness with my life, with the rhythms of life, a Jesus who is no more connected to the current of life than a Krispy Kreme donut.

And, let’s be honest, I love Krispy Kreme donuts.

But they don’t really feed me.

Progressive Christians: We Need to Talk About Jesus…

Posted on April 2, 2014 by Timothy Brown

Please note: Not all theological progressives wear glasses.

I’m a theological progressive.

When I fell away from faith, I fell away from a faith that was absolutely confused about its identity. I was interacting in worlds that didn’t seem to speak the same language. One world I lived in included people I knew and loved who were of intellect and not willing to take the Bible literally, people of different sexual orientations, people of different faiths.

And I also lived in a world of religion that didn’t seem to encompass that other world very well. Or, if it did, it marginalized the people who didn’t fit well into certain categories, namely “Bible-believing,” “straight,” and “Christian.”

For a while my solution, then, was to leave the faith…at least in spirit. I still moved in both worlds, but my heart was with the first world and turned against the second world.

And then I came back to faith…a faith re-figured. A faith that could encompass the first world and still remain in the second. In fact, it merged the two worlds so completely together that now, for me, they are one cohesive world.

I came out as a theological progressive.

To me this means a couple things:

–I have a heart for justice. Sometimes people call it “social justice,” but I think that phrase is laden with all sorts of issues and assumptions. My justice is not just for society, though. It’s for the world in sum. Shalom is a better Biblical term for it. I have a heart for Shalom, God’s good balance and peace. Ensuring that people live with dignity, that the world we live in is respected, and that we keep an eye toward balance and harmony as we all eek out our God-given existence.

-I have a sincere respect for other faith traditions. The sincerity part comes from the realization that we are all trying to navigate life in a way that bends toward not putting ourselves at the center of it all. We’re all trying to navigate life through the lens of deeper truth.

–I talk about Jesus. Yes, I do. Sometimes I call Jesus “the Christ,” or sometimes I refer to God as “the Divine,” but I do so because different language helps, not hurts, our understanding of God. For a long time language has boxed God in…and we need to break God out of the box. But that doesn’t mean, though, that I don’t talk about Jesus. In fact, I think we have a lot of Christians who are afraid to talk about Jesus because they don’t want to be “that” type of Christian. I get that. But our silence isn’t doing Jesus’ rep any favors. Why? Because the Franklin Grahams and Glenn Becks (how did he become a Christian spokesperson, btw?) of this world do talk about Jesus. And their Jesus does not look like my Jesus…

–I want to be inclusive. Lots of people are excluded from faith communities for things they’ve done or not done, or for things other people think are “sin,” usually things they do with their bodies. In truth: I think we sin a lot more with our checkbooks than we do with our bodies. Funny thing about the Jesus we find in the Gospels: he doesn’t spend a lot of time making people feel guilty for their sin, real or imagined. In fact, Jesus doesn’t really talk a whole lot about specific sin if you read carefully. What Jesus does talk about, though, are people who think they have no sin, or that they lead sinless lives. “Because you say, ‘I am not blind,’ your sin remains,” Jesus says to the Pharisees, these archetype characters in John’s Gospel for those who think they’re above sin. So, in modeling Jesus, I want to be inclusive. Of everyone. It’s dangerous; I know. Try it out, though. You might just find Jesus lurking in people you never thought possible…

To me being theologically progressive doesn’t mean:

–I’m politically progressive. I know plenty of theological progressives who don’t fit into political categories. Honestly, I’ve never been able to vote with a clear conscience. And your church shouldn’t be a para-political organization, either. Your church’s mission shouldn’t sound like a party platform. Sure, faith is political. My faith certainly informs and shapes my politics. In fact, I think that pastors can’t help but be political. After all, in the polis we deal with money, health, life, and death…all things Jesus talked about extensively. But if Jesus were running for office, no party would claim him.

–I don’t take the Bible seriously. Actually, I take the Bible very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that I take into consideration its origin, its writing styles, its editing, its historical conditioning…all of it. I would claim that anyone who just takes anything at face value doesn’t take it seriously at all! They’re ignoring so much in their quest for simplicity. But life isn’t simple. The books of the Bible aren’t simple. God isn’t simple! Let’s stop pretending that you have to be an idiot to be a believer. The only thing someone reading the Bible at face value takes seriously is their own desire for absolute certainty at the expense of their brain.

–I’m a Communist. Again, idiocy leads to this conclusion, or any other label of fear-mongering that people come up with to keep you from actually engaging with others in this world. The best way to combat idiocy is to remove your head from your buttocks.

–I have a church that won’t grow. Our church is growing. We need not worry that fear and false certainty are the only ways to grow faithful Christians. And as a parent, I want to help my son hold tension with faith, not inadequately resolve tension with easy answers and cheap grace.

So, theological progressives, here’s the deal: we have to talk about Jesus more. Especially in this time of crappy Jesus movies and headlines of Christian charities being…well…uncharitable, and mega-church pastors claiming Jesus wants them to be wealthy, and Catholic bishops getting in hot water for building million dollar mansions. Because Jesus is getting a bad rap. And we shouldn’t be afraid to claim that we’re people of progressive faith.

And, sure, Jesus has a quiet way about him. This is true. Real Godly work doesn’t sound the trumpet in the temple, but locks itself in the closet. And God sees in secret.

But, as a parishioner of mine recently said in a conversation about this issue, “We’re not doing Jesus any favors by being quiet.”

And she’s right.

The Man Born Blind, World Vision, and Insight

Posted on March 28, 2014 by Timothy Brown

If you all are wondering how this pastor tries to use the Biblical texts and current events to comment on one another, here is some insight into my sermon prep work…

An Endless Falling

Been musing on this Sunday’s Gospel text , as I think it probably gives us some insight into this whole mess with World Vision.

In the text Jesus uses mud to give this man sight.

Or, as I would say for the modern hearer, this man, in the muddiness of life, feels that Jesus has given him some new sight.

In the text it’s literal sight, but I love the over-arching metaphor, too, of how God, through the muddiness of life, gives us new insight.

Perhaps World Vision felt they had some new insight as they looked at their Christian brothers and sisters from all walks of life who had talent and vision and the ability to do good work, but were barred from employment because they were openly gay and partnered. Perhaps they saw it as a justice issue. Perhaps they saw it as a way to bring diverse…

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“A Response to World Vision Bullies” or “On the Backs of Children”

Posted on March 26, 2014 by Timothy Brown

I found out this aftern index oon that World Vision reversed their decision to allow people in same-sex monogamous relationships to have the pleasure of being employed by the largest Christian charity in the world.

It’s taken me this long to calm down and write a response…

Look, I’m not that mad at World Vision. If you, from a charitable perspective, were facing thousands of sponsored children losing their sponsorship (food, education, clothing, shelter, companionship, medical care…you know, basic dignity), you might also have second thoughts about retaining the policy that caused the defection.

From a charitable perspective it makes some business sense.

But one ethical dilemma gives way to another…

World Vision not only reversed their policy decision, but they’ve also “asked for forgiveness.”

And, to me, the group that needs to ask for forgiveness are the bullying bigots who forced World Vision’s reversal.

Less snark in this one. Snark isn’t called for.

This is a come-to-Jesus moment, as a former Sunday School teacher of mine would say. And Jesus is not to be found with the bullies.

How dare you?

You hold up the clobbering texts that tout a very ancient understanding of homosexual behavior (that hold very little in common to same-sex monogamous relationships in the modern understanding), and you forsake hundreds of other Biblical texts, texts about feeding the poor and needy, texts about loving neighbor as yourself, texts about welcoming the stranger in the name of God.

All things that World Vision, at its best, does. And all things you were willing to chuck out the homophobic window just because World Vision might hire someone in a same-sex relationship.

Any ethicist will tell you that the one wrong does not cancel out the other.

And any playground attendant will tell you that this “I’m taking my marbles and going home” stunt you pulled is nothing more or less than an old-fashioned shake-down.

You’re bullies. Plain and simple.

Have you read Luke 17?

Let me refresh your memory

Jesus said to his disciples, “Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to anyone by whom they come! ²It would be better for you if a millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea than for you to cause one of these little ones to stumble. ³Be on your guard! If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive. ⁴And if the same person sins against you seven times a day, and turns back to you seven times and says, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive.”

Bullies who withdrew support from World Vision, listen up: you just caused stumbling.

Should we now tell our children that when we don’t get our way we just get to go home no matter the consequences? You don’t think your children are watching? “It’s OK, Johnny, to not feed those children because first you have to hand it to that same-sex partnered person, and it’s no good coming from their hands.”

In what freaking world is that defensible?

Because it’s not in the Christian world. That mess only works on the playground. But, perhaps, you think this whole life thing is one big playground; one big game of tit-for-tat.

Grow the hell up.

See, I think that you don’t even realize the consequences. Many of the people, most of them children, that World Vision helps are continents away from your theological smugness. You can withdraw support and never feel the pinch. It’s far away from you and your lovely privilege.

Lord, isn’t it nice to “believe” all the right things if you’re privileged enough to have the time and resources to do so?

And all the while these World Vision folks saw children losing support…you forced their hand.

Some might say “shame on them” for giving in to bullies. Fine; we can say that. There is some truth there.

But you want to know what I bet?

I bet the World Vision folks are betting that the theologically progressive Christians who are in support of their briefly-held new hiring policy won’t pull their support now that they reversed the decision.

And you know what?

They’re damn right.

But I’ll go to bed alright tonight, knowing that my actions, both the support of their briefly-held hiring policies and my gifts to the people they help, are as pure as possible. I am not sinless, but I am not on the wrong side of this issue.

You who bullied them into this, on the other hand, please know that you leveraged what you called a “gospel issue” on the backs of children.

And that is never gospel.

Would be better to have a millstone thrown around your neck, so I hear. If that’s not a literal stumbling block (have you ever tried to walk when dying of starvation? I imagine there’s quite a bit of stumbling involved…) I don’t know what is.

But, take heart. There is always a chance for repentance. There is always forgiveness. I’m serious about that. Whether or not World Vision switches their policy back, I plead that you repent.

If anything, you’ll sleep better. And nothing is better than forgiveness.

And if you don’t go to bed a little uneasy tonight, well, that’s indicative of a whole host of other issues.

Finally, a quick word to my theologically progressive friends: don’t pull your support from World Vision.

We won’t be bullies. Millstones don’t belong around necks. We cannot play these games.

So we pray, we watch, we encourage, we lift our voices.

And we feed children.

Because that’s what the Christ calls us to.

“Hey, Did You Hear About the Time the Largest Christian Charity Actually Lived Into It’s Name?” or “Good Job World Vision”

Posted on March 25, 2014 by Timothy Brown

stolen-scream-noam-galai

World Vision announced yesterday that they would start hiring Christians in same-sex relationships.

And then the arrows started flying from all the usual bows. Thanks to my sister Katie Kather for alerting me to the madness…

Franklin Graham was his normal, eloquent self, offering up a response in mere hours. Just a few weeks after claiming that Russian President Vladmir Putin has “the right idea” about gays, he burst onto the scene with this little gem of questionable scholarship.

Did you read Graham’s thoughts? No, c’mon, click it. It takes two minutes to read. Graham is, if anything, shallow…which means it doesn’t take long to read.

Read it? Good. Now, let me clear some things up for you for reference sake: the Bible, throughout the Old and New Testaments, gives a variety of marriage situations, and even supports most of them, and while they usually involve men and women, the idea that all of them involve just one man and one woman is an outright lie. Read Leviticus. Or maybe the Abraham story where good ‘ole Abe impregnates a couple of women to make sure his family has heirs.

Most of the marriage arrangements in the Bible you probably wouldn’t recognize as “Christian” these days. But, see, Graham thinks he can just say something and make it true. He doesn’t think you’ll actually go do research. Shame on him.

You’d think someone like Graham, coming from a family of such influence, would have spent the money to get a decent undergraduate education where this could be pointed out to him…

But I digress. Enough snark. Well, no, not enough. Cause I’m kind of mad in this post.

World Vision notes that they’re changing the hiring policies to “unite the church,” a nod toward churches who do have Christian men and women in same-sex partnerships. The same great work continues, it’ll just be done by people who actually represent the wide swath of the Christian landscape.

Funny how an organization called “World Vision” would actually want to cast a vision that represents the larger world. Whoda thunk?

And now there are reports that some people and organizations are dropping their sponsorships because of this move. I was pointed to this fact by “Rage Against the Mini Van,” a lovely little blog run by, what appears to be, an insightful writer and advocate for all things awesome.

Uhm, let me say that again because I don’t know that you sufficiently heard me.

People are deciding not to feed and clothe children because a partnered person may or may not be the middle man.

To quote MJ, “Makes me want to scream.”

What about that action, I’d like to know, do they think is Christian? Because I hope to hell they aren’t getting a latte from Starbucks, an equal opportunity employer. I hope they aren’t shopping at Aldi or Kroger, ordering from Amazon or buying music from iTunes…all equal opportunity employers.

I hope they’re divesting from every single organization that may or may not have partnered gay employees, forcing them to eat the food they grow in their backyard, give up all TV channels (because, well, all providers are also equal opportunity here in the States), stop buying clothes and start making them, and cancel all of their utilities.

C’mon bigots, stick to your guns. If you’re going to divest from a charity because it hires openly partnered gay people, I want you to go ahead and divest from every organization, charity or not, Christian or not, who may or may not have a partnered gay person on the payroll.

I’m pretty sure divesting from every organization that hires partnered gay employees would leave you destitute.

And then, by the grace of God, I’d sponsor you with food and shelter and clothing. And I mean that, literally. By the grace of God.

Because whether or not you agree with me on this theological issue, I do not want you to die or go without. Nay, I’m not allowed to let you die or go without.

Why?

Because the Bible tells me so.

I’m just wondering what their Bible is telling them…

“Some Corners of Christianity Have Turned Jesus into a Cult Leader” or “Jesus Was Not a Cult Leader, So Don’t Make Him One”

Posted on March 24, 2014 by Timothy Brown

I finally got around to seeing Jesus Camp, or as I like to call it, “Children of the Corn.”

It’s well worth the watch. And it made me sad. And a bit embarrassed.

I get the criticism that the documentary makers are biased. Bias will always exist; a purely objective perspective is a unicorn.

But this is scary.

It’s about as scary as the person who came up to me the other day and told me a story of how an individual from a neighboring church here in the city tried to convince him that we (as in, my faith community) were teaching him falsely, and that he should come and find the truth at this other faith community.

A “truth,” by the way, that doesn’t allow for questioning…because it is ultimate. Apparently they have it over at that church. Good to know…

In the book Narcissists Among Us, author Joe Navarro lists a number of traits that one should look for in a leader to tell if they’re a cult leader. Unfortunately, many Christian churches have turned Jesus into a character that fits many of the descriptions.

For instance, at the top of the list is that a cult leader has “a grandiose idea of who s/he is and what they can achieve.” Now, this gets fishy, of course, because of the Christian tenet that Jesus is both mortal and Divine. I’m not questioning Christ’s divinity at all. But when we look at the Gospels, we have a very quiet Christ in most instances, one who doesn’t lift himself up but rather lifts up those around him.

Fast forward two thousand years. Today you’ll find in many places people who claim that Jesus can cure your broken bones, broken marriage, broken spirit, and broken bank account (all for $19.99) if you just believe.

Or take another example of a cult leader from Navarro, the fact that they are preoccupied with unlimited success, power, or fame. Can we not turn on the TV most any evening and hear how God desires this for us? Can we not read most “Christian” self-help books and read about how the right formula of life+belief+prayer=blessing?

How about the fact that many churches are now holding these bizarre “purity balls” where young women (notice that it’s only young women…sexism is alive and well, don’t you worry) pledge their virginity to their fathers? Sexual exploitation is the sign of a cult leader and, despite the fact that Jesus says not a mumblin’ word about sex (though he does talk about divorce), much of Christianity has turned these purity rituals into a rite of passage as a way to control behavior.

Look, I think that the church has to come up with a good sexual ethic (please, Lord, let’s revisit this, yes?), but such manipulation a) doesn’t work, b) is slightly creepy and c) causes confusion in children with regards to sex, sexuality, and their bodies.

And what about the one I see most frequently: the need for blind obedience? Cult leaders demand this of their followers. In Jesus Camp, there’s a really telling scene at the end where Mike Papantonio, radio personality, is interviewing a woman named Becky Fischer, a self-proclaimed “children’s evangelist,” the leader and host of this crazy camp where children come to be guilted, manipulated, and formed into “soldiers for Christ” (their term, not mine). And in the interview Papantonio brings up the idea that Fischer is actually indoctrinating the children, to which Fischer responds that she’d like to see more parents and churches indoctrinate children.

When I teach Confirmation and encourage the youth to memorize the Apostle’s Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Ten Commandments, we follow up every statement with the good (Lutheran) question, “What is this?”

And it’s an honest question to which I encourage honest responses.

The church should not be in the indoctrination business. But it has been. For years and years.

Christianity should be a religion, not a cult. Jesus is central to the religion. Jesus is not a cult leader.

There is a difference between a religion and a cult; a religious leader and a cultic leader. I think that many religious leaders, Christian leaders, can become cultic personalities. But, likewise, I think that many religious leaders have turned Jesus into the cultic personality.

A religion is meant to look after the well being of the family, encouraging health in all ways. Cults break families apart, doing psychological harm. Should I say how many people have mentioned to me that they’ve been told by a religious leader that their spouse is going to Hell because they don’t believe/haven’t been baptized/are of a different religion? Need I note the anguish this causes over a subject that no one living has any firsthand knowledge of?

A religion allows freedom of thought. Cults and cultic leaders do not. A religion works within society, even as it tries to change society. A cult shelters people from the greater society, creating a bubble of influence. A religion encourages leaders to be questioned (this is, I think, what the historical critical method does of Scripture as a leader of Christian religion). A cult does not allow a leader, or basic tenets, to be questioned.

Sigh.

Jesus was not a cult leader. It’s clear from the Gospel accounts that he was a compelling personality. It’s clear from the Gospel accounts that those who followed him did so passionately. But the personality profile given there doesn’t fit a cult leader.

So why, then, have many in the church made him one?

“Jesus Christ is My Lord and Savior” or “Talk is Cheap”

Posted on March 12, 2014 by Timothy Brown

I was asked recently why I don’t say “Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior” more.

That’s a good question.

I think I don’t use that phrase much because of my experience with that phrase. In my youth that phrase was used as a litmus test of sorts, a shibboleth for those of you familiar with that term (or familiar with West Wing).

Saying “Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior” was like the secret password into a club that I wasn’t so sure I wanted into.

Because usually the people that I heard using that phrase were also the people who were talking about “spiritual warfare” and being good “Christian soldiers” and “working blessings” and “praying away the pain.”

All that phraseology was just noisy gongs and clanging cymbals to my ears.

I wanted to know what they thought spiritual warfare was and if they’d be “fighting it” if they had never been introduced to the concept. I wanted to know what they thought being a “soldier for Christ” meant in every day life. I wanted to know what they thought they were doing when they were “working a blessing” or what conclusions we’re to draw when we pray and pray and pray and the pain remains.

I didn’t want talk to be cheap; I wanted it to mean something. I want it to mean something.

Because, and this is the thing, Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior. But that sentence needs so much explanation around it for me, that just saying it to you or anyone else will not do, I feel.

Because just saying it to myself doesn’t do it.

And no doubt people say that phrase and say it with utmost sincerity and face value; I truly believe it. And I can speak that language, too, with much sincerity.

So, is Jesus Christ my Lord and Savior? Yes. Am I going to start adopting that language? Probably not.

But I will say that my trust in God is deeply rooted in the Christ event.

And, believe it or not, I think that’s approximately the same thing.

I could say it another way, but it wouldn’t be authentic to me.

And I prefer not to. It’s not how my spirituality is formulated. My spirituality is formulated with deep roots in experiences and connection that don’t lend itself very well to short phrases like this, I find.

I’m much more Richard Rohr than Rick Warren.

That doesn’t mean either of those spiritual realities are “better” than the other one (how could we measure that, anyway?). But it does mean that they present themselves differently.

And with a Christian history that needed a St. Julian as well as a Thomas Aquinas, that needed a Martin Luther as well as a Meister Eckhart, why should the fact that I don’t express my faith with these phrases, and that you do, cause us dissension?

So many churches are full of just Julians or just Luthers, just Rohrs or just Warrens.

What if we actually practiced radical community where you could lift your hands in praise while I fold mine in reverence and neither got annoyed with the other? What if we actually practiced radical community where you could claim Jesus as your Lord and Savior and stretched my comfort with that phrase, and I encouraged you to parse that a little more to go a bit deeper than just phrases.

Because, and here’s the biggest thing, I don’t want any of our talk to be cheap…even our talk about community.

Because if we all think the same things, talk the same way, use the same phrases, and embody the same spirituality, we have less a “community” and more of a “club.”

And Lord knows we don’t need more clubs in this world.

And I’m a reluctant Christian many times because our clubs dot the streets, and our communities are few and far between.

“Ash Kicking” or “Why I Don’t Think Ash Wednesday is a Good Day for Peddling Religious Goods”

Posted on February 21, 2014 by Timothy Brown

I know this post might not be popular with many of my colleagues, but it is timely…so I’m going to put it out there.

I get why pastors and church people stand by the bus stop and the train stop and on busy thoroughfares for Ash Wednesday. We “get out of the church and into the world” by doing this, right? We “take the ministry to the streets.”

I get the rationale; I get it. And I get that it probably can be pretty powerful for the ashers, and possibly the ashees, too.

But here’s my concern, specifically with Ash Wednesday: I fear it is cheap.

Yes, cheap.

Ash Wednesday is a day of solemnity when we hear the prophet Joel encourage people to “return to the Lord.” The liturgy involves a movement from the Kryie (Lord, have mercy) to hearing Joel’s encouragement to Matthew’s prayerful penitent beat his chest, and then we take last year’s Hosanna’s, burn them as a sign that we’ve burned so much of our praise in pursuit of the dust of this world, and mark ourselves again as dust.

It is a movement of stark realism. It is a movement, like a carefully put together album, that leads you from the realization of mortality to a hopeful life despite the fact that you are dust.

Beautiful stardust…but dust nonetheless.

But more than anything, it is a movement. And it takes a bit of time. Not much time, but some time. Mortality does not sink in so quickly (without sudden tragedy, of course). And we should allow the time. Not much time, but time nonetheless. As the beginning of Lent, a season of intentionality, it seems odd to me that we would start out with such slack intentionality…

It is much more than a simple smudge at the bus stop. Sure, there are many who will also offer prayer in that time. Sure, there are many who will also offer information about how the individual seeking to be “ashed” (or get the “ash kicking” as I like to say) can hook up with a faith community.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it.

I’m just saying why I’m not going to…and I want to ask the question publicly.

Because despite the prayer and the information on faith communities, I don’t think Ash Wednesday is the day to do it.

We don’t see people out on Easter passing out lilies. Actually, that makes a ton more sense to me…

I don’t want Ash Wednesday…I don’t want my mortality…to be a gimmick. And I worry that the church can turn it into that.

And there’s something important about having Ash Wednesday with other people of faith, all together, in one place. There’s something important about me, the individual hearing “Memento, homo, quod pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris” but then also having all of us, communally, hear it.

It’s not just about me; it’s about us. All of us. We are all stardust…and our systems of power and “isms” and phobias have reinforced it.

And there is something powerful about having a train full of cross-smudged commuters. I won’t deny that. But what does it mean that they got it running for the 8:05am?

Have an early morning Ash Wednesday service. Or a noon one, where people can do it at lunch hour. Or, have a full one at the bus stop, 20 minutes long. Or point people toward a service that happens right as work gets out downtown. I think these are good options. But not as they’re running by…

Because I want to know: what do we think we’re saying when we’re offering a reminder of mortality on the fly?

You’re Married, Not Besties

Posted on February 12, 2014 by Timothy Brown

So, I hear “I’m marrying my best friend”…and I cringe just a bit.

It’s said honestly, and I don’t mean to belittle the sentiment at all. But, just in time for V-day, perhaps knowing that you don’t have to share your bed with your best friend will provide some comfort to someone.

My best friend and I would never write in the sand. Probably.little bit.

And I’m not against you and your partner being, in some ways, friends. Or even “best __________” in many ways.

But I do not think that you must (or maybe even should) be “best friends” with the person you marry.

You need to be great partners. You need to be great lovers. You need to be great confidants and plan out a common trajectory.

But you need a different best friend.

See, many marriages fall into the trap of “all-needs-met.”

“All-needs-met” is the syndrome where one, or both persons, in a relationship feel that all their needs will be met by this one person, in this one relationship.

And it’s just not going to happen.

Especially needs that fall within the realm of “social needs.”

Sexual needs, deep emotional needs, partnership needs…these can be met within the marriage unit.

But many friendship needs can’t, and probably shouldn’t, be met there.

Why?

Because you need to dance well together.

There was an interesting interview last night during the Olympics where a reporter was grilling a couple competing in ice dancing. She said, “We know you spend so much time together, and that you’re best friends…”

And the couple gave such a look to the woman and to one another, you’d have thought that lobsters were crawling out of the interviewer’s ears.

They weren’t best friends.

They had a deep bond, an emotional bond, and they spent a lot of time together working hard at their craft, laughing, joking, crying, helping one another up, and making beautiful movements gliding through this world.

But they weren’t best friends because they needed to dance together, and to do that well, they couldn’t be best friends.

The term “best friends” probably has a different meaning to most everyone, I think. So perhaps the confusion is on my end. I may not need to cringe when I hear it.

But, then again, perhaps it’s just a truth that needs to be named: you don’t need to be best friends to be married. In fact, maybe you shouldn’t be.

The marriage covenant is deeper than friendship. And your marriage cannot meet all your social needs.

It shouldn’t meet all your social needs.

Because you need to dance with intimacy and having/being a family and setting a common life trajectory and, well, a complex support system needs to surround you because those things are hard enough without trying to throw “being besties” in there.

And I think this confusion lies especially within the church who often sets marriage up as the container that holds all relational meaning. The church has set marriage up on this pedestal, has made it the culmination of everything and all things, and doesn’t mention enough that marriage is a call that not everyone feels, and that marriage will not satisfy every human longing within the heart.

We all need friends, I would say “best friends,” outside of marriage. And we all need to know that that is OK. It does not make your marriage anything less to say that your spouse is not your best friend.

They are more important than that. They are your partner. They are your lover. They are your family.

They don’t have to be your bff even if you have covenanted to be together forever.

Because you have to dance together, and even in dancing you need a certain amount of distance between the people to do it well.

Otherwise you’re just tripping over one another…

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Reluctant Xtian

When Arguments Cease Making Sense