"Top cardinal, Tarcisio Bertone, blames paedophile crisis on homosexuals"

Words fail me to describe my reaction to reading the article above. To quote:

Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, the Vatican Secretary of State, said: “Many psychologists and psychiatrists have demonstrated that there is no relationship between celibacy and paedophilia. But many others have demonstrated, I have been told recently, that there is a relationship between homosexuality and paedophilia. That is true. That is the problem.”

 This is an outrageous accusation. Not only is it untrue that there is a decisive link between homosexuality and pedophilia, it fails to recognize the statistics. Children are far more likely to be abused by people of heterosexual orientation than by people of homosexual orientation. Furthermore, statements like this one focus attention on potential perpetrators, rather than focusing attention where it belongs: on caring for the victims and survivors of such abuse. I am unaware that either celibacy or homosexuality are directly linked to child sexual abuse. Rather, abuse of any kind is linked to a power and control dynamic in which a person with power (in this case the priest) executes that power by demeaning a person with less power (in this case, children). This power can be exhibited in many ways, one of which is sexual abuse. Statistically speaking, males who abuse children are more likely to be of heterosexual orientation, or as this article asserts, no recognized sexual orientation. Making accusations like this one takes the onus off of the church to help past victims and prevent future occurrences. It is the church's responsibility to do everything in its power to ensure safe space for all of God's people. Pretending that the problem exists solely because of some group that can be blamed and punished does not do anyone any good.


But that's not the end of it! The article continues:

Giacomo Babini, the retired Bishop of Grosseto in Italy, was quoted by an Italian Catholic website as complaining about a Zionist attack on the Church. In an interview he was said to have described Jews as the “natural enemies” of Catholicism. “Deep down, historically speaking, the Jews are deicides [God-killers],” he said. 

I take exception to anyone who calls Jews 'God-killers' (even excepting that by adding "historically") without recognizing that Christians, too, are God-killers, as are Romans and Africans (remember Simon of Cyrene) and anyone else that may have been present at that public execution. So it is indeed unfair and in fact sinful to label this historical event as a Jewish problem or a Jewish sin. Jesus was not killed because of one person or one religious group. Rather, Jesus was killed because the social structures of the world could not and would not tolerate his preaching, teaching, healing, and living into a different-looking world. Jesus challenged the rules about what is clean and dirty. Jesus challenged the rules about who one can talk to our eat with. Jesus challenged the rules about what it is to be sick or healthy. He challenged the rules about what it means to be living in sin or righteous. And the people with power in that society refused to allow Jesus to change the status-quo. In fact, some of the people without power did the same thing -- trying to join those with power by aligning their opinions and their 'vote' to what those in power would have them say... a vote for crucifixion.

Dare we believe that it would be any different today? If Jesus were to come healing people, would we not call him possessed? If Jesus were to come proclaiming forgiveness of sins, would we not call him psychologically disturbed? If Jesus were to come teaching the homeless, walking through radioactive dumps with children, and sitting to eat with them without first washing his hands, would we not call him dirty and unclean?

No, it is not the Jews who killed Christ. It was us. All of us. Because we could not then and still cannot bear the message that he brought and brings to us: God's kin-dom is not of this world. God's power does not become manifest in violence. God's healing and grace are extended to the world, the whole world... and this grace is realized only when those who have more than enough share with those who have not enough.

I fear that those who have not enough are more aware of God's daily grace even than I am - and I think I look for it!  But when every moment of one's life is contingent on God's presence and grace, noticing seems to become a regular part of life. Might God's kin-dom come when we all recognize that every moment of all of our lives are contingent on that presence and grace?

God's kin-dom will only come when we stop blaming our neighbors for the problems of the world, and start recognizing that we have some part in those problems as well. Only when I recognize my failures and sins, and begin to confess, repent and remediate them, will anyone else be willing to do the same. And, when we all reach that point, perhaps God's kin-dom will indeed be present.

Holy (hell) Week

I picked up that title from someone on facebook. The busiest times for pastors are the month before Christmas and the month before Easter... but I suspect that Holy Week tops any other time of the year for busy-ness and to-do lists and sermons to preach. Anyway, I'm living through my first Holy Week as a pastor, and so far it's not so bad... but we'll have services every day/night from now until Sunday... which will be no small feat - especially since I need to give a sermon or reflection at at least 3 of those services.

So, I have sermons to craft and "things" to do (before a week of vacation next week) and people to visit and letters to write and calls to respond to... all of the everyday business of the church. I am sitting in my office with the sun shining brightly through the window, and the flowering bush -- I'd share what kind it is if I had any idea -- reaching out its radient yellow flowers to me, and the grass luscious green in the park, and children's laughter floating toward my ears... and for a moment I wish I were a child again, allowed to experience spring with laughter and freedom instead of to-do lists and obligations. But then I recognize this springtime, this sunshine, this laughter are all rays of God's grace. God isn't suggesting to me that I cannot enjoy spring with laughter and freedom. In fact, I suspect if I found the source of that laughter, God would be among those children laughing too! Jesus wouldn't be spending his time writing his sermons behind a desk, but basking in the sunlight with his friends. I worry that when we focus too much on our jobs, our tasks, our obligations, we forget that God's grace extends to us everywhere and in every place. We miss God's grace. And in the process, we miss also God's very presence in our world, in our lives.

And I think, that's what Holy Week is all about ... remembering God's presence and grace in our world and in our lives...

So I've decided that I'm not going to spend the day indoors, behind my desk. Maybe God created cell phones so we could make our phone calls from a tree we've climbed. Maybe God created laptops so we could craft sermons in the park. Maybe God created me to bring sunshine to those people I visit, to walk outside with them or open their blinds. Maybe God created the whole world so that we might remember God's grace and God's presence in every moment of our lives.

I might stick around and finish this post with something clever, but the playground outside is calling. I hope you find God's grace and presence today too... I'll meet you and God at the swings!

Church of the Misfits?

I know it's well past Christmas now, but about springtime I always start singing Christmas songs again. Lately I've been thinking about Rudolph & the Island of Misfit Toys. This has come to mind with regard to St. James in an interesting way. As it turns out, a part of our identity seems to be that most of us don't "fit in" with whatever society has told us we are or should be... but at St. James, we are a collection of people who are loved, cared for, and befriended without regard to our 'misfit' status in some other part of the world.

Perhaps I love St. James so much because that is how I identify. Christian society (generally) says that women should not be pastors. Society says people should be nationalistic first and social-justice oriented second (if at all). Society says (even still) that women should be the ones to take care of the home and the children -- work should come second. But I don't identify with the shoulds. I identify with Rudolph and Hermey, who sing that it's OK to be "A Couple of Misfits."

Throughout my life, my best friends have been the people around me with strong identities. People who know who they are and what they stand for -- and yet, are open to hearing and even considering other points of view. That is, open to hearing and considering, but not by giving up their own positions. What is astounding is that these people, by and large, aren't the "popular" folks. Popularity arises when a person of strong personality or charisma manages to find followers who are willing to mold their own ideas to that of the popular opinion... and thus the popular group grows... until it reaches the limit of "us" and "them." In this case, many of the "them" wishes they were "us," and often they try their hardest to become what the popular group would have them to be.

For misfits, it is not so. Misfits retain their identity and require others to do the same. Misfits do not invite followers, but engage partners... i.e. conversation partners or debate partners. Even as misfits seek their identity, they seek it on their own path, in their own ways, with their own words. So then the question arises, does Christianity merely invite followers (even disciples), or can Christianity engage misfit partners as well?

Certainly, Christianity seeks to make disciples of Christ -- that is in fact our "Great Commission" (Matthew 28:16-20). We do indeed seek to follow Jesus' teachings and practices, to walk where Jesus walked. And popular Christianity does just that... to an extent. Popular Christianity shares the good news of Jesus' life and death and (sometimes) resurrection. It shares the good news that Jesus can bring healing to your body, your soul, your life. But I worry about popular Christianity. I worry about religious experiences that are easy, popular, even fun...

...because although Jesus was 'popular' in the sense that he had and has lots of followers - the 12 apostles, plus many disciples, plus the huge crowds that came to see and hear - he wasn't popular with the powerful groups. He wasn't popular with the government. He wasn't popular with the church. In fact, Jesus was killed by a collusion of church and state -- the Powers that Be. What did he do so wrong? Well, I think Jesus was himself a misfit. He spoke respectfully to women. He touched unclean people. He dined with "sinners" and hated tax collectors. He found the misfits in society and spent time with them -- like Zacchaeus the tax collector who was so far outside of the crowd that he had to climb a tree to see Jesus. Jesus saw him, found him, dined with him, and changed his life. Jesus didn't take away Zacchaeus' identity. Jesus didn't tell Zacchaeus what to think and you'd better not ask questions. Jesus wasn't about forming groupies. Rather, in all of Jesus' interactions, he sought partners. Conversation partners. Debate partners. Partners who, in engaging with Christ, might find themselves healed and their lives changed.

It is that to which I think we are called. To follow Jesus not in "what would Jesus do" style - though that's a good start! - but in how might we engage the Christ within us and the Christ within our neighbor that both of our lives might be changed. And that is not easy. Because that requires not just sharing what Jesus did, but doing what Jesus did. Not only feeding the hungry, but asking why there are hungry. Not only healing the sick, but ensuring the sick can get healthcare. Not only putting money toward eradicating homelessness, but working against the injustices in the world that cause it. And those, my friends, are not popular causes. Identifying any of those issues will define you as misfit. But it goes beyond that, even. We remember that Christ died for the healing (salvation) of the world. If we are to follow Jesus, we follow even unto death. Those parts of our own selves that retain selfishness, jealousy, envy, pride, enmity, even power... we must learn to let them die... so that we might rise, clothed with the righteousness, faithfulness, forgiveness, and humility of Christ.

This is the misfit-ness of Christ. The savior who didn't meet the expectations of his people. The God who became like us in order to heal us.

And so, I believe, the Christian church can indeed be a church of misfits. St. James' people come together into loving Christian community, embracing one another in a way that the world does not and perhaps cannot. In a way that even other churches may not. Perhaps that is why I love these people so much. Perhaps that is why I am called to this place in this time. And perhaps we might learn to embrace an identity of Church of the Misfits. With the misfit Christ as our guide.

To trust... or not?

My latest devotional book is "Reasons for Hope" by Jose Luis Martin Descalzo. Having just started it, I cannot comment on the frame of the book as a whole, or on its real suitability for devotional reading. However, today I came across a single paragraph that drew me up short. Today, we read about trust:

"I have always maintained that trust is an integral part of human life, that rather than live with an armor-plated soul, it would be better not to live at all. If I cannot trust those around me, if I put up a barrier of barbed wire around my life and around my heart, I am not hurting the people who come close to me. I am hurting myself. An untrusting heart gets old quickly. A heart that is shut up tight is deader than a heart whose owner has already passed away." (6)

Trust is a strange, intriguing, difficult facet of life. We learn trust - at least theoretically - as infants and children, having strong adults around us who help us interpret the world and know what to expect. For so many children, when they learn trust in this way, their first instinct becomes to trust with reckless abandon. They offer life and love and freedom to everyone they meet. When I meet such children, I feel their joy in life; I too experience their trust that in the end, all will be OK.

But the world we live in is not a fundamentally trustworthy place. Sinful people inhabit a broken world. Terrible things happen to the earth - like earthquakes and blizzards and tsunamis. Terrible things happen to people - like kidnapping and burglary and rape. As children grow, responsible parents carefully teach them about the dangers in the world, ideas of how to keep safe-r. And the challenge becomes sharing the reality of danger, without crushing the necessity of trust.

Over and over again, the Bible tells us "Do not be afraid." God hopes for us, God desires for us, a sense of safety, of trust, of love. God reminds us that fear and despair do not get to win. God's very presence in the world is a presence of trust and of peace. Yet, even though the angels preach this message again and again, fear exists. The angels do not extinguish all danger. God does not break into the world and suddenly wipe away all things bad or painful or tragic. Rather, God invites us into a journey to the kin-dom. A journey begun in the Bible stories we've collected. A journey in which this broken and sinful world (and this broken and sinful generation) finds healing, mending, care, peace... and trust. As we join this journey, as we take part in the healing to be done, as we begin to trust again - even with reckless abandon - we begin to discover God's peace. We begin to discover that, with God's community, we can trust in spite of the danger. We begin to discover that our trusting hearts are open hearts - hearts open to our neighbors, hearts open to our world, hearts open to God's peace.

Lent comes quickly; on Wednesday this 40-day journey will begin again. Are you ready? Am I ready? May we use this time, this journey, to take the journey toward the kin-dom. May we use it to recognize the places our hearts have become hardened or deadened. May we use it to repent from these places. May we use it to ever so slowly learn again how to trust. And may we allow our transformed hearts to take part in the coming kin-dom... as together, we journey on.

Discernment

As St. James and I continue walking into our future together, I find we constantly ask God, "Where are you calling us now?" "Where are you calling me now?" As part of the discovery process, I've begun reading Discernment: a path to spiritual awakening by Rose Mary Dougherty. Today, I read:

“Discernment is ultimately about love. It is about seeing, in the moment, the loving action that is mine and having the freedom to respond and to act.”

Today, I am not free. Today has been a difficult day, for no reason outside myself. Today I am bound by shame, some of which is rightfully mine, and some which is not. There are mistakes I have made, tasks I have been incapable of doing or completing, conversations I have done poorly or not at all. There are also haunts of my past and present, things that have been done to me, ways people have acted or failed to act that have hurt me. All of these culminate, some days, in a difficult, encumbering shame.

Today I am not free. I am not free to discern, because my vision is suddenly myopic. I am not free to respond in love, because I am not able to receive this love. I am not free to act, because I am paralyzed by the shame that encompasses me. 

Today, I am not free. And yet, the Loving One still reaches out. The Loving One still reminds me I am named and claimed as a Child of God. I am not destined to be bound by shame. I am not destined to a life without freedom. The embrace of the Loving One does not prevent or obliterate shame. Rather, this touch of God heals. 

Discernment is gift, not goal. In my seeking, in my hoping, in my needing, discernment comes. May I welcome this – thoughtfulness, wisdom, experience, relationship, healing touch. May I welcome God into my midst, into myself.

Time Out

Yesterday, I realized I've now been at St. James for 3 months. I realized this as I attempted to write a newsletter article, mentioning our annual congregational meeting. I had no idea if that annual meeting happens in January or February. Goodness, I'm green! At the same time, this 3 months feels like much longer than that. I am already feeling the internal push to get stuff going, ask what's changing, what's new, etc. But I'm still learning my way around, I'm still learning my congregation's story, and the stories of the people. I'm still meeting people and we're still figuring out how we do day-to-day ministry with each other.

But I anticipated this. Before I began my call at St. James, I anticipated that I - and maybe others - would get antsy about what we're doing and where we're going. I also knew that it's important to take time to get to know each other and how we can do things together. So, I created a 6 month plan that didn't have anything to do with outreach, evangelism, or anything brand new. After all, before we intentionally invite guests to join us in worship or Bible study - or any ministry, for that matter - it makes sense to get ourselves together, figure out who we are together.


So, I am reminded to take a Time Out. I was reminded this last week, when I spent 3 days in bed, sick. TIME OUT. The gospel lesson last week reminds us that to be followers of Jesus, we must trust our whole selves - and our whole futures to God. And sometimes, God does say Time Out. Relax. Focus on relationship, not the future. Trust the future is in God's hands.


I've decided, then, to let go of the anxiety. The time will come for us to do something different. But for now, it's enough to get to know each other. In God's time, this will change... and, God willing, we'll be ready. 


So I'm gonna take a Time Out, and continue munching on my secretary's candy... as I get to know the people at St. James. Sounds like fun to me.

Look... and Love

Mark 10:17-31  


      As I read the story this week, one phrase stuck out for me. “Jesus, looking at him, loved him.” But, I thought, that can’t be the most important part of this story! Surely I should be preaching about this man – who he might have been or what his motives were. Or about Jesus’ response to him – ‘sure you can keep the commandments about your neighbor, but can you keep the first commandment, keep God as your only god and have no idols.’ Or I should preach about Jesus’ use of hyperbole in the camel and needle’s eye image. Or the disciples’ typical faith-less response. As with most gospel texts, there are myriad things to say and expound upon. But none of these possibilities sparked my interest the way this one phrase did. ‘Jesus, looking at him. Loved him.’
      In the gospels, when Jesus looks at someone, it means more than just seeing them. The gospel writer users the Greek word hemblaypo . This word indicates not just looking at but really seeing. It means, literally “to look straight at or see clearly.” And, it means figuratively, “to look at with the mind, to consider, to think about.”  You know from your own experience that there are layers to seeing. For example, you can see what a person is wearing, the color of their eyes, the color of their skin. You can also see something about their personality – the kind of clothes or makeup they wear, the way they stand. You can see how they’re feeling today – the look in their eye, the body language they use. And sometimes, you can see even deeper than that – what they care about, what makes them excited or afraid, what makes them tick.
      And Jesus, Jesus sees all of that. And maybe more. When Jesus looks at people, he takes in everything about them – everything that he can see on the outside. All of the inferences he can make about their personality and emotional state. And everything he can deduce about their motivations, their passions, their hopes, their desires.
      Jesus did just that with this man that day. The man ran to him and said he was seeking eternal life. He’d followed the rules and the laws, but he wanted to know, just to be sure, that he’d really find eternal life that way. And Jesus, looking down at the man kneeling in the hot dust, watching his sweat bead up on his brow and run down his face. Jesus, standing in the sun in the middle of the path that was leading him to Jerusalem, to the cross. Jesus, standing in the midst of a crowd that was rapidly thinning because of the difficulty of his teachings. Jesus looked at that man, and saw him – all of him. Jesus saw his faith, his ability and willingness to keep the law, his urgency to lay claim to eternal life. And Jesus saw his privilege, his riches, his arrogance, the way his richness was used to oppress others. And, Jesus saw his promise, his ability to use his riches to bless others, his urgency that could come in handy when the story of the cross needed to be told. And looking at him, seeing him… JESUS LOVED HIM.
      Jesus loved him, and then invited him to be a disciple, a follower. “Come, follow me,” Jesus said. But in the invitation to follow Jesus there was also a challenge. Jesus said, give away that which makes you more powerful than everyone else. Make yourself as a servant, as a child. Trust your welfare and your future to me and to God. When you can do that, then you are following me. Then, you will have treasures in heaven. Then, you will have eternal life – the healing and salvation that God wishes for you, for your whole being.
      This is not the answer that particular man wanted on that particular day. It was not enough for Jesus to look and to love. Or maybe, it was too much. The man didn’t want Jesus to really see him. The man didn’t want Jesus to answer honestly. The man perhaps would have done anything else Jesus might have said – but not this. This was too much.
      I wonder, do we want Jesus to really see us? Do we want Jesus to answer honestly? When we claim to be Christians, to be followers of Jesus, do we truly intend to do what Jesus has said? Do we truly intend to give away whatever we have that makes us more powerful than someone else? Do we truly intend to be servants, like children? Do we truly intend to trust our whole welfare and our whole future to Jesus and to God? Only when we can do these things, are we following Jesus. Only then will we have our treasures in heaven, the present day healing and salvation that God wishes for us all.
      But what does it take to become like this, to become this follower of Jesus? It takes doing as Jesus does – looking, and loving. But looking requires courage and it requires honesty. Just as Jesus looked at the man and knew everything – his gifts, his promise and his brokenness – Jesus looks at us and knows these things. And we must be willing to look into ourselves. To celebrate our gifts and our promise, and to repent of our brokenness. And then, as we look at others, really look at others, we need to recognize their gifts and their promise and their brokenness too. And, as we look at others, as we get to know them, as we offer them a piece of our hearts and a bit of our time. As we take the time to understand others and to care about them. As we look in this way, the love will come. Because that’s called relationship. And real relationships, where we really see each other and begin to know each other, that’s where God’s grace begins to grow. Between people, that’s where God’s grace flourishes.
      I hope this means something for you, for how you live your life. But it means something for St. James too. As we journey into the future together, we seek to be disciples of Jesus. We seek to be followers. And that means we must look carefully and attentively at ourselves. We must trust our whole welfare and our whole future to God. And we must look at and truly see our neighbors, our community. The gifts they have, the promises they bring, the brokenness they share (or even hide). We are doing this by having the honesty and courage to consider and learn about and respond to domestic violence. But that’s not enough. Where else are we needed? What else do we not know enough about? Who else do we need to look at and love?
      Being a follower of Jesus is an invitation, a blessing, and a gift in the grace of relationship. And it is also a challenge. A challenge to look at people, to really see them and care about them. A challenge to educate ourselves and to know them. And a challenge to love them.
      Elana is a friend of mine who I met in seminary. She is a Christian, but she grew up in an extremely religious Jewish home. Her mother was born in Auschwitz, just a year before the Holocaust ended. Her father was an American-born Russian Jew. They attended synagogue regularly and Elana was sent to Hebrew school. When Elana was only 12, her dad died. This forced her mom to move the family, but there still wasn’t enough money, so they spent some time homeless. However, they found a new synagogue, and Elana’s family became active there. By the time Elana was 16, her family was no longer homeless. Elana continued to attend services and to help where she could. She participated in the singing, and she excelled in Hebrew and Old Testament. But when Elana was 16, her mother fell ill as well. It turned out that her father had received a blood transfusion in 1984, before blood was tested for the HIV/AIDS virus. Elana learned that he had died of complications from the disease, and her mother was dying as well. Within days, Elana’s mother passed away.
      Where do you expect that Elana would turn during this time? She turned to her rabbi, to her synagogue. The place where she’d had her religious home. Only she found she was no longer welcome there. Her mother had died of AIDS. The synagogue shunned Elana and her family, just as many Christian congregations might have done.There was no place for them to go. Elana lost her faith in the community who had always supported her. She lost her faith in the Jewish people and traditions. She lost her faith in God. She was left, confused, abandoned, alone.
      Elana’s story doesn’t end there. She eventually began attending Christian church services, which were more palatable because they weren’t the people who had shunned her. Not that they wouldn’t have if she had been Christian instead of Jewish, but Elana only knew how her community responded. Now, she is returning to her Jewish roots as a Christian person. But her story is just one example of how much power we have as God’s people. When we fail to look at people, to see their situations. When we become paralyzed by fear or ignorance. When we refuse to look honestly at ourselves, to look honestly at others. When we refuse to be in relationship, we hurt people.
      Discipleship is hard. Jesus’ invitation to follow him really is a challenge. And we know we can’t do it on our own. But Jesus tells us, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” Indeed, as long as we are in relationship to God – as long as we are open to following Jesus – God will make it possible. For God, all things are possible. Our God, who is faithful and forgiving. Ever seeing and ever loving. With this God, all things are possible. Thanks be to God.