A Divided Heart

[Note Well: A reminder that this is a space that represents and speaks for myself only, as an individual. I happen to be a citizen of the USA, and I also happen to be a Christian minister.  But this blog is not a space that officially represents either of those organizations.  It is my space for reflection and conversation only, and is not meant to be interpreted as anything else.]

Earlier this morning, the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) ruled the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) unconstitutional, and then declared that they had no standing to rule on Proposition 8, which had come initially from California. By deciding in such a way, it has essentially made California the most recent state to recognize the right of marriage for same-sex couples.

With this news, my heart (personally) is joyful, and I want to do nothing but take to the social media-sphere to celebrate with many friends and even relatives who are now able to appreciate the same rights and responsibilities that I and my wife can. It makes me very happy to see them happy, and more so, validated and affirmed. I can not claim to understand what it feels like to have someone or some entity tell me that my love for my spouse is invalid and a sham; I have seen too much love from my gay friends and family to even consider that it is inauthentic. In many cases, it has been healthier and more committed than other marriages/relationships I have seen…

But I find, on this morning, that I am struggling to be too celebratory, at least in an outright fashion, for I am afraid.

I am afraid, because my vocation has me in a position and a place where, if I were to speak too loudly or happily about the decisions of this morning, then I will no longer be in a position to act as a guide for the very people to which I have been called to do so. I am afraid that it will hurt my ability to reach out and connect with them and the community at large, to be able to share myself with them, and vice-verse, in honest relationship, to seek together the self-same Spirit of God which not only brings us together but continues to work in mysterious and sometimes frightening ways.  I am afraid that it could even cost me my income, which is desperately needed at the moment. The denomination in which I serve does not currently endorse or condone an accepting understanding of gay marriage, and the culture of the community around me may not be as open to such an understanding, either.  And so, I am afraid.  Even as I write this, I am afraid that people in the church I serve will read it, and rather than be open to honest and respectful conversation (I have absolutely NO intention of forcing someone to believe in a way they cannot!), I will be dismissed outright, and the defensive lines will go up.

Is it possible that I am now starting to get an idea of how my friends and family have felt all these long years? Is that too much to consider, even?

I love the people of this church, in the way that I am called to love them (and I am grateful for such an amazing gift in such a short time span since my arrival here). I love that, together with them, we are able and privileged to seek out the love of God in Christ. Every day is an amazing gift because of these relationships, and I would grieve the loss of such more so than the issue of loss of income. Life is about relationship, and I am blessed to have as many as I do, especially in this congregation.

And I love my friends and family, with whom I have shared so much, whom I have been supported by, and whom I have been able to celebrate with, and mourn with, watching as they have been denigrated and denied the rights that I enjoy, for a love that is very evidently no less than mine is for my spouse.

And so, I find I am divided, and I do not know where to turn.  I find that I must seek out a way to walk a narrow – and increasingly shrinking – middle ground. I am thankful that this middle ground continues to shrink, but I find it difficult now to realize that, personally, I can celebrate, but vocationally, my hands are still tied, and celebration is the last thing I can do. The way forward is not clear; this will need to change.  I fear for what that may mean for the people in this church, in this community, whom I love, but who will not be comfortable with such changes.  I feel the tides of change, and I wish to be a part of seeing equal treatment of all, but neither do I wish to put up a barrier to those who do not feel the same as I do, whose humanity is just as valid, and whose opinion is, at least, to be just as respected.  We are called, I believe, to love everyone, as we have been loved. I know that there are people in my congregation who will be thrilled and overjoyed at these decisions, just as I know that there are people in my congregation who will not be happy, wondering what sort of world we live in.  I love them all, and am torn to be in the middle of this.  Even with all my privilege, I am torn.

I do not yet know which way to turn, save to say to my friends and family: Congratulations. I have known all along what the SCOTUS now affirms, and it gives me joy to see your joy.  I will continue to hope and, as able, work for change in my denomination, following all the proper and respectful ways to do so.  I believe that some modicum of harmony is possible, even if such a belief is naive.  May the Holy Spirit continue to guide us all…

Pastoral Prayer for Advent

With all due diligence, honesty and whatnot, I claim absolutely NO credit for the following.  It comes from the great Walter Brueggemann, who penned it in 1994, and was found in his collection of prayers entitled “Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth.”  I simply figured it would be appropriate as we draw, day by day, closer to the first Sunday of Advent.  Peace!

In our secret yearnings
we wait for your coming,
and in our grinding despair
we doubt that you will.

And in this privileged place
we are surrounded by witnesses who yearn more than do we
and by those who despair more deeply than do we.

Look upon your church and its pastors
in this season of hope
which runs so quickly to fatigue
and this season of yearning
which becomes so easily quarrelsome.

Give us the grace and the impatience
to wait for your coming to the bottom of our toes,
to the edges of our finger tips.

We do not want our several worlds to end.

Come in your power
and come in your weakness
in any case
and make all things new.

Amen.

Overwhelmed by Debt: A Lament

O Lord, my God, in whom I proclaim to have trust and have committed my life to following…What am I to do?

At least, that’s how I feel today.

Every month, at least once, I go about the process of balancing my checkbook. Today, in doing so, I was overcome with the reality of how much debt my wife and I each carry (voluntarily – it was, after all, our decision to pursue education), and what that actually means.  Put simply, even if my federal loan were a 0% interest loan (which it never will be), and if I continue to make my regular monthly payments, it would take me another 8 years to pay it off.  For my wife, that number would be 13 years.  That’s also assuming no other life changes demanding our attention (e.g. children, which we both agree are in our visions of our future).

Pardon me while I continue to panic somewhat, and attempt to catch my breath…

Now, as I mentioned, I agreed to this. I listened faithfully to God’s call on my life, I followed the denomination’s requirements to obtain my Master of Divinity degree, I knew that I would never be a millionaire and I’m OK with that; I’m not in it for the money. And neither is my wife (whose story as a public educator is very similar).

But the idea that we will be paying off the debt incurred simply to be able to enter the workforce and be actively engaged citizens of this country for the better part of the next decade and a half is one that almost makes me physically sick.  And this is just an example of voluntary, educational debt; I can’t even fathom the number of people in our country carrying unforeseen medical debt.

And I know that there are others out there who are in more stressful financial shape than we are.

And so, I wonder, how do we as faithful Christians, as churches, as denominations respond to this? Leviticus discusses the concept of Jubilee (chapter 25), a year in which everything is returned to a balance nature…almost like hitting the reset button on your gaming station.  I’m not trying to get out from what I committed to, but if there was a way to make it so that I, my wife, and thousands of other individuals in our country could manage the repayment a bit easier, while still providing for selves and families…well, I think that’d be a pretty good idea.

And it seems I’m not the first to have this idea.  There is now a group known as Rolling Jubilee which is attempting to put this concept into practice.  I’ll be excited to see how this plays out.

But for today, I lament this situation.  And as we approach Christ the King Sunday in six days, I have to wonder: What does it mean to follow and trust a King of my life who proclaims such release from burdens, and yet live in a society which thrives on them?

My Sermon Response to the PCUSA 220th General Assembly

Following is my sermon for July 8, 2012, based on the Revised Common Lectionary, and in response to this General Assembly. These are my reflections, and my reflections alone, meant to be edifying as much as informative.

<2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10; Mark 6:1-13>

Prayer: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be pleasing and acceptable to you, O Holy Mystery, our Rock and Redeemer.  Amen.

I pray forgiveness if this sermon comes across as a little bit raw; I endeavored to keep it from becoming so, but I do not know if I succeeded.

As I mentioned last week in worship, I wear this stole today to show my mindfulness of those who are serving the church throughout this past week by being at our denomination’s General Assembly.  Throughout this week they have labored long in committee meetings, plenaries, and worship to guide our denomination into the next years to come.  These commissioners and advocates have labored for long hours, even into the wee hours of Saturday morning, recessing somewhere in the neighborhood of 1:30am, after starting business at 8:30am the previous morning.  There has been much heated discussion and debate, with most of it respectful, but I must confess that I am saddened by many of the decisions that have been made.

“[Jesus] called the Twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits.  He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff…So they went out, and proclaimed that all should repent.  They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.”

I’ve always been fascinated with this account of the disciples being sent out in mission.  As Jesus deals with the incredulous response he received from his own hometown, the disciples are sent out to continue the work that he began, and has now called them to.  They go out, presumably to the other towns in the region, and they do all the things which we still understand to make up the proclamation of the Good News: they healed the sick and afflicted, they made whole the broken aspects of life, they lifted up people who were down and in need; in word and deed, the disciples made known that the Kingdom of God was drawing near to those who were yearning for it, those who were desiring to see it in their lifetimes.

Now, often, when I read this account, I try to imagine what it would have been like to be one of those disciples, performing such deeds and spreading the gospel invitation.  I wonder what it would take today to accomplish such feats of faith and compassion.  But it’s a simple answer, really.  In fact, it’s so simple that I usually overlook it, trying to discover something flashier, something more grand.

Synergy, in today’s parlance, is often used to describe the exciting result of the interaction of two separate items, meaning that the sum of the whole is greater than the individual parts.  But to put it in terms of the faith and the church, I would argue that synergy could just as accurately be used to describe the reality of a person living a life that outwardly reflects an inward awareness, of making one the exterior and the interior of a person.  It is the simple reality of synergy in one’s life that makes such living out the Kingdom of God possible.

Case in point: In our reading from 2 Samuel, we see that David has synergy.  The people approach him, declaring that he is to be their next king in the wake of the spectacularly-gone-awry experiment of Saul.  They know that he, David, will be a better and more faithful king because, even when he wasn’t king he acted as if he was.  Oh, not in the sense that he proclaimed himself king wherever he went, regardless of who was actually on the throne.  In fact, quite the opposite!  Wherever David went, he approached the people and interacted with them as one would expect a king to do, with the best interests of the people’s safety and welfare at his own heart.  David treated the people as a king ought to treat his people, and David did so before he ever sat on the throne.  His outward actions reflected an inward awareness of how his relationship with others was affected by his calling from God.  In such a self-awareness and synergy, it did not ultimately matter what his title or status were; he treated the people in such a way because he knew it to be the right way, and his conscience, his authentic self would not let him act any other way.  His actions showed his heart, and they were in line with what he spoke.  He did not say one thing, while doing another thing, and holding a third view within.

It is this same reality of living into this authenticity, between action, proclamation, and self-understanding, this synergy, that allows the disciples to fully and truly proclaim the good news, inviting people into deeper relationship with God, and moving away from the actions and lifestyles that fostered division.  After all, if someone came up to you, preaching good news of an invitation to a richer, fuller life, and then did not live out such a lifestyle himself, would you listen?  Of course not!  You would look at him and think, ‘He doesn’t even believe in the things he’s telling me; why should I believe him, then?’

The disciples go out, two by two, not simply to proclaim the Kingdom of God and the healing that goes with it, but to live out the Kingdom of God and the healing that goes with it.  By taking nothing but what is absolutely needed, they are freed from material distractions and concerns.  By going out in community with another disciple, they are living out the communal nature of the Kingdom, and showing the fullness of edifying relationship that marks the Kingdom for what it is; a place where concern for your brother and sister is the driving force of relationship, as opposed to what others will think of you, or what you’ll get out of the relationship.

And the lesson that comes with this understanding of what it is to live out the gospel is still one that we need today.  I mentioned earlier that I’ve been very frustrated with the PC(USA) General Assembly this past week.  I have spent long hours tuned into to the live feed on the internet, watching and listening as commissioners and advisors deliberated and voted.  And, though I say this cautiously, I must say that what I heard and saw does not show me a denomination that, in this past week, has followed the example put forth by our readings this morning.

Early in the week we elected a vice-moderator for the assembly, in good order and duly so.  Later in the week, she felt forced to resign her post, as those who still disagreed that she should have been elected in the first place threatened to manipulate the system to make sure nothing of the assembly’s business was addressed.  Where, I ask, was the discipline of loving your brother and sister, and working with the will of the assembly that had broken no rules in the election process?

Then, later in the week, the issue of divestment was discussed.  Some of the stock holdings of our denomination are in companies that profit from the violence between Palestine and Israel in the Middle East, and thus promote the oppression of a nation.  There was a resolution to urge the divestment of stock from such companies, opting not to receive income from companies and situations that purport violence.  We as a church proclaim the peace of the Kingdom of God, the peace that Christ has offered us and this world, and that such peace between neighbors and countries is one of our goals that we work toward.  The vote to make our perspective known by divesting from such companies and their practices was defeated; our denomination will continue to receive earnings from these companies, and from practices that allow for violence and oppression.

Finally, the discussion came to the issue of same-gender marriage.  And without recreating the discussion among us, because I know that we as a congregation are not of one view, it will suffice to say that in some ways it comes down to an understanding of whether or not we welcome people who have personally experienced Christ in their lives to have all the benefits of the church.  We claim, as the church, that anyone who seeks Christ more fully is welcome at the Table, that anyone who has been called by the Spirit has a place in our communities, that anyone who loves as Christ first loved will be invited in.  And regardless of what your understanding on this issue may be, the reality is that when we claim this as who we are, and then vote in such a way that does not honor people for who they are, the only message that the outside world receives is that we say one thing with our lips and another with our actions.  This vote, also, was ultimately defeated.  No authenticity.  No synergy.

We claim to be a church that wants to create and make known the peaceful Kingdom of God in this world, and yet we implicitly, if not explicitly, support violent climates in the areas where Jesus walked.  We claim to be a church where everyone is welcome, and yet we tell people that unless they look, act, or think like us, then there is no room for them here.  We claim to be a church that is creating a place for future generations, and then we talk about young adults as if they weren’t in the room with us, and as if we know what they really want, instead of listening to their voices and heeding their advice.  The actions of our General Assembly give me little hope for the future of our church, when this is the outcome of the week’s work for all the world to see.

And yet.  And yet, I still have hope.  There is still hope to be found.  Jesus was rejected in his hometown, unable to do any great acts of power, and yet his ministry did not stop there.  The disciples went out, sent out two by two, and continued the ministry begun, preparing the way for Christ to come in person and invite people into the full love of God.  Throughout all of this and even beyond the death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ, Jesus continues to bring healing to the world!  This is still the work that is before us today; what good news!  I may be saddened by the actions of this General Assembly, but it does not mean that the work of the Spirit for the increase of God’s Kingdom has ceased, and I am still called to such.  Each of us as disciples is still called to this.  Personally, I will abide by my denomination’s decisions; I am Presbyterian, and I will keep to the church’s decisions.  But I will not stop engaging the conversation, or proclaiming the good news as I have seen and experienced it.  I will not stop seeking the healing of Christ for a hurting and broken world.  Such is the calling of every disciple; not to be caught up in uniformity, but in unity to proclaim the good news as each and every one of us is called to do – with our own lives, our own experiences, our own synergy.  When we, in word and deed, continue to make such proclamation, then God’s Kingdom will be increased, and those who yearn for peace and wholeness will find it.  May God’s Kingdom truly come…Amen.