Archive for the ‘Christianity’ Category

President Donald Trump is a unique individual, with striking behavioral characteristics for one in the world’s most important leadership position.  One of those characteristics is his eggshell-thin self-image.  When criticized or insulted he reacts with vitriolic insults reminiscent of a children’s playground spat.  I was getting used to the idea that this was a behavior unique to Mr. Trump.  But, today, The Guardian has reported that Tesla founder and CEO, the visionary Elon Musk has fired off his own petulant insult aimed at one of the divers who, last week, rescued a group of youth stranded in a flooded cave in Thailand, calling the diver “pedo guy.”

Musk had been brushed back by the diver when he showed up at the rescue site with a small submarine.  The rescue team needed neither the untested and unfamiliar piece of equipment nor Musk and his retinue making an already tense and busy situation worse.  The diver had brusquely waved Musk off and later speculated that the offer of the miniature submarine was a PR stunt.  Musk reacted with an insult, calling the diver a pedophile.

Two powerful, famous, successful, well-positioned, and influential men who can afford and should be standing head-and-shoulders above the rest of us in the honorableness of their behavior lashing out like bruised bullies on a kid’s playground.  Really?!?

Maybe these men believe that their wealth, power, and position gives them the privilege to be childishly petulant.  Maybe they, like the Lemech of Genesis, feel they need to respond to attack with overwhelming verbal violence in order to assert their power and preserve their position.  Maybe their self-image is so fragile that the self-doubt evoked by an insult becomes painful and consuming.

The only way to avoid insult is to either isolate oneself from the rest of the world or not be born in the first place.  Since all of us alive today have failed the latter tactic and are not engaging in the former, we need to have the capacity to constructively deal with criticisms and insults.  We could, of course, devolve into tit-for-tat verbal violence, but that only makes things worse and shows us up to be immature jerks.  Most of us would rather not be seen that way.  Especially for Christians, there is a more excellent way.

“God created humanity in God’s own image, in the divine image God created them, male and female God created them.”    – Genesis 1.27 (CEB)

To remember that they are created in God’s image should be enough for anyone to bolster their own self-image.  How can anyone else’s insult overshadow the knowledge that God values us so much as to reflect himself in each of us?  We are, as the psalmist reminds us, “awe-inspiringly and wonderfully made.”  Call me what you will–I’m just fine as I am!

If that’s not enough, we might also consider how Jesus Christ lifted up those in his world whom others disdained, disrespected, or ignored: tax collectors, a multiply-divorced woman shacked up with her boyfriend, the blind, lame, and physically deformed.  By offering the blessing of his attention, friendship, teaching, and/or healing, Jesus respected, honored, and dignified each, and by doing so with those society had written off, he communicates to all of us we are all of sacred and inestimable worth.  No criticism or insult can change that reality.

Of course criticisms and insults sting and anger us.  But we have a choice as to how we respond, both within ourselves and toward those who have provoked us.  As children of God, made in his image and who are lifted up by Christ the King, we can rise above reactive insult and choose to do something more constructive.  If the Donald Trumps and Elon Musks of our world could do this, how might their leadership be better for us all?

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I wonder what Methodism’s founder, John Wesley, would say if he was alive today.  Not only did he claim that “the world is my parish,” but he also argued the validity and necessity of interpreting the world through the Bible, claiming that he preached with the Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the other.  Though the bulk of his sermons focused on a myriad of theological topics, he had much to say about wealth, economics, and the plight of the poor.  As a preacher in the Wesleyan tradition, it does indeed feel natural to, like Wesley did, interpret the world through the Bible (and the teachings of the Church).  But in 2018’s world of extreme partisanship and drastic change, in which social and political norms are in radical flux, and those changes are perceived most often through tribal loyalty rather than dispassionate analysis, interpreting the world through the Bible and church teaching has become difficult and dangerous.

The trouble has nothing to do with the source material.  In fact, our Bible’s venerable prophets would be as busy as ever today.  Just today, in fact, the president of the U.S.A. gave an interview to the U.K.’s Sun newspaper excoriating the British Prime Minister, only to claim later in the day, while standing next to the Primer Minister, that he had not uttered any criticism at all.  Such an action by the leader of the U.S.A. begs a reflection on the sin of deceit, the very first one demonstrated in the Bible.  But should I do so, with a call to my congregation to seek a more excellent way of truthful public discourse by our leaders and representatives, I will alienate and surely anger those I pastor who support our president.  The sin will become less relevant than my apparent partisanship.

For the record, I don’t care who is in office or which party they belong to.  If their behavior fails to honor their leadership position or their decisions cause harm, then I will be critical of their behavior or policies.

But the question remains: How do I, as a preacher in the Wesleyan tradition, speak to issues that surround and affect us today and yet continue to be pastor to those whose loyalties and perspectives would be offended by my preaching?  To let anything get in the way of preaching Christ and the Gospel is wrong.  Yet Christ is not divorced from the world.  If we as Christ-followers are to be relevant to the world, then we must engage with it and, if needed, call out that which ought not to be or could be better.  After all, as  United Methodists, we are in the business of “making disciples of Christ for the transformation of the world.”

I don’t have an answer, so I guess I will continue to do as I do now by preaching along the razor’s edge.

Text:  Mark 7.1-23

“Nothing outside of a person can enter and contaminate a person in God’s sight; rather, the things that come out of a person contaminate the person.”

Leave it to Jesus to take a conventional assumption about something and turn it inside out so that it becomes a paradox that reveals a counter-intuitive truth.  This is what happens in today’s reading, in which Jesus takes the obvious understandings of ritual purity and contamination and both reinterprets and reframes them.  Focusing on the concept of contamination, he argues the paradox that what contaminates us comes from inside of us, not from what we take in.  In other words, our uncleanliness or impurity comes from within not from without.

This paradoxical view raises several issues.

  1. We are culpable for our impurity, sin, and evil.  We do not ‘catch it’ but generate it.  And this means we cannot blame something external for our ‘contamination’.  We own it.
  2. The ritual washing insisted on by Jesus’ critics means nothing if it is not an outward sign of an inward desire for purification of the heart.  Jesus rightly criticizes those who perform the ritual on the outside while doing nothing to change their hearts and lives on the inside.
  3. To declare Jesus’ disciples as ‘unclean’ or ‘contaminated’ because they did not attend to a specified ritual washing was a way Jesus’ critics and opponents sought to assert power over them by claiming religious authority through their own right religiosity.  Jesus was having none of this.

Once again, Jesus reminds us that religion for any other reason than growth in our relationship with God and betterment of ourselves from the inside out in God’s image is worthless.

Text:  Mark 6:53-56
People immediately recognized Jesus and ran around that whole region bringing sick people on their mats to wherever they heard he was.

So far, Jesus had performed exorcisms, healed many sick people, fed 5,000+ people, calmed two storms over the Sea of Galilee, ate with tax collectors and “sinners,” and baffled people with parables.  Along the way he had preached the imminent arrival of God’s Kingdom.  He had become famous in Galilee and crowds flocked to see him, but they did not come to Jesus to hear him preach or learn the finer points of their religion.  They came bringing their sick hoping for healing.

Today’s reading is grounding.  It reminds me that as fascinated as I am by Christian theology, Christology, pneumatology, and ecclesiology, that fascination is rarely shared by the people I serve as pastor.  Rather, their interests are more down to earth and practical.  They want to know how to live as people of good character who do good in the world, find strength and guidance for the day, and healing in times of suffering.

I have sometimes groused that it seems that too many people come to Christianity and church for free therapy.  They want to an uplifting experience that makes them feel better.  But the stress and anxiety brought on by national and world events over the last year or two have made me more aware that life can be difficult and our need for healing frequent.

Jesus never groused about people coming to him for healing.  He responded to them, not with theologically-centered sermons but with compassion by healing them.  He met needs no one else could meet.  We who serve as pastors would do well to get our heads out of our “-ologies”, offer Jesus’ healing to individuals, and lead our congregations to do works of compassion that bring healing to our world.

Text:  Mark 6:13-29
“I want you to give me John the Baptist’s head on a plate, right this minute.”

The back half of chapter 6 of Mark’s gospel is a recap of the demise of John the Baptist.  He had called out Herod for marrying his brother Philip’s wife in violation of Leviticus 18.16, a ballsy move given that Herod had his brother assassinated, which was typical of his ruthlessness.  Oddly enough, it wasn’t Herod who had it in for John but Herodias, the widow of Philip who married Herod.  To make a long story a short, she asked for John’s head on a platter and literally received the same.

As we read through and past the soap opera we are witness to an account of  much of the worst that can happen when power is horrendously abused.  John had been arrested and imprisoned for no reason other than he had angered Herodias (v.17).  That she manipulated his execution for the same reason is reprehensible, but the way it all went down is chilling and horrendous.  During a feast attended by the movers and shakers around Herod, Herodias’ daughter danced and delighted Herod such that he offered her whatever she wanted as a reward.  Prompted by her mother Herodias, she asked for John the Baptist’s head an a platter.  Surrounded by guests who witnessed his offer to Herodias’ daughter, Herod complied in order to save face.  We don’t know whether he was gutless, sociopathic, or callous to the life of another human being.  Regardless, the all too casual execution of John was a horrendous abuse of power.

It might be a little easier to deal with if we could indict Herod of some form of bigotry that would have distorted his morality.  But Herod, who had John’s life in his hands, disposed of him on a triviality.  Herod was driven more by a narcissistic concern over how he would appear to others should he renege on his offer to Herodias’ daughter than by consideration for a human life.

The account of John’s death should call us to vigilance, keeping an ever watchful eye on those invested with power, especially when they exhibit narcissism (and a near constant need for positive affirmation)  or when much that they do is self-referencing (they perceive the world with themselves at the center of all things).  When a ruler’s power becomes self-, instead of other-serving, the likelihood of abuse is high.

Text:  Mark 1.40-45
“Moved with compassion / deeply moved / incensed / splagchnisthais . . .”

No, the last word in the quote above is not a “covfefe” accidentally typed as I fell asleep at the keyboard.  It is a Greek word based on the noun splagchnon, which refers to the inward parts of the body and metaphorically to the heart, love, and affection.  In its verb form it describes a feeling that is heartfelt or ‘from the gut’.  Typically translated in Mark 1:41 to “deeply moved” or “moved with compassion”, I like “incensed” used by the Common English Bible.  To say that Jesus was “moved” seems a bit weak—“moved” how?  Although more paraphrase than rigorous translation, I think “incensed” better captures Jesus’ reaction when approached by a man with a skin disease.

To describe Jesus’ reaction to his encounter with the man by using the word “incensed”  necessitates a careful reading.  A casual reading might imply that Jesus was angry with a begging man with a skin disease.  But this is not the case as implied by the other translations of splagchnisthais, as imprecise as they seem to be.  Jesus does indeed have a strong reaction, but it is not to the man but his situation as defined by his skin disease.  This is why “incensed” works so well to capture his reaction.  When Jesus looks upon a man reduced to begging for help, who, due to the socially alienating nature of his condition was surely used to begging to make a meagre living, he has a knee-jerk reaction.  He becomes enraged that the man on his knees before him suffers physically from a disease that distorts his appearance, socially and economically from the stigma others placed on his condition, emotionally from stress and isolation, and spiritually, since his skin disease made him “unclean”.  In other words, Jesus gets pissed-off at the brokenness and the evil that afflicts the man.

We usually think of an angry God in terms of God’s just retribution for sin, especially idolatry.  Images of Sodom and Gomorrah in flames, the Pharaoh’s army swallowed by the sea, and the slaughter of the priests of Ba’al tend to characterize our view of God’s righteous anger unleashed.  But God’s anger is also present when Jesus looks down at the begging man hoping Jesus would heal his physically, socially, emotionally, and spiritually disabling skin disease. Jesus was incensed at what the disease had done to the man and in part because he could do something about it . . . and he did.

Jesus healed the man of his skin disease and sent the man to the nearest priest so that he could be declared “clean”.  Without a doubt, Jesus acted not just from anger but also from love and compassion.  He raged against the brokenness of God’s creation focused in the man’s skin disease but ministered to the man in all his humanity and human need.

. . . Something to think about as we as Christ-followers experience anger-inspired response to the brokenness of our world, for that brokenness always has a human face and a life created in the image of God that is hurting and needs not just social or political advocacy but love and compassion.

Text:  Mark 5.24b-34
“…your faith has healed you; go in peace, healed from your disease.”

The story of Jesus’ healing of a woman with chronic bleeding is both compelling and troubling.  It is a story I struggle with, not because miracle healing offends 21st century sensibility but because an all too obvious message coming from it is that the efficacy of healing is directly dependent upon one’s quality of faith.  This is a frequent issue arising from the healing narratives as they often involve Jesus crediting the healed person for his or her faith.

There are (at least) two large problems with a simple faith=healing calculus:

(1)  People of faith too often remain ill, become sicker, and die of their illnesses.  Do we then conclude that their faith was weak or non-existent; that they have deceived themselves and their loved ones about their beliefs and commitments?

(2)  For non-predestination Wesleyan-Methodists, God’s modus operandi is grace, not transaction.  God reaches out to us in love and compassion before we even realize our need.  As with the benefits of the sacraments, we do not so much reach out and take but open ourselves to receive that which God already offers.  If healing is dependent on faith first, then there is no initiative of God, which is what characterizes grace.
(While our relationship with God is indeed covenantal, it sure as Spam-in-a-can is not transactional.)

There is much to ponder and wrestle with . . . stay tuned (more tomorrow)