It has been a lovely, meaningful Holy Week. And I’m looking forward to a beautiful Easter Sunday. This in spite of being told that my is not only a “flailing, dying parish,” but is also “in schism . . . quite possibly from the Christian faith in general.” Funny, being told that my faith isn’t Lutheran, let alone ‘Christian,’ since the center of every worship service is – well, Christ.

I shouldn’t be either surprised or distressed by opinions, such as the one expressed in a review of Jeff Chu’s new book, “Does Jesus Really Love Me?” in which there is a whole chapter about First United’s expulsion from and return to the ELCA. The reviewer took exception to quotes by myself and our music director. I (probably mistakenly) responded to the comment, and the reviewer shot back with a critique of that. Since the exchange took place amid a book review, I decided it was inappropriate to take the issue any further. Besides, I also know that the divide between orthodox and progressive Christianity is getting ever wider. There’s really no point in arguing about it.

What I  can do is continue to be solid in my theological grounding, not  in order to “ignore it so that you may opt out of it when it serves your purposes,” but to continue in the spirit of the Reformation to bring the message of resurrection to people who might not otherwise hear it. And I mean resurrection, not just as a one-time historical event, but as something that happens all the time – in my life and everyone’s life.

I will celebrate that fact this Easter, along with Christians of all persuasions, even the ones who disagree with me and believe that my way of thinking diminishes the Church. This year, when the people of First United Lutheran Church joins together with the people of St. Cyprian’s Episcopal Church for joyful worship and a bountiful Easter brunch, we will do so because we share in the same gospel of Jesus the Christ.

If my position makes me look “silly,” so be it.  Alleluia!!!

Saw Oz, the Great and Powerful last night. Dang, even on my day off, I can’t help  thinking about work.

In the scene when Oscar Diggs is being led into the Emerald City after crashing to earth in a hot air balloon, he’s welcomed, hailed and cheered on by a crowd who acclaim him as their long-awaited savior, a great and powerful wizard. But all of this acclamation comes with big expectations: this great and powerful one will save the people from the evil forces that are oppressing them.  Hmm, I thought, this sounds like Jesus on Palm Sunday.

The big question was: how was he going to accomplish this?  The wizard, that is. Well, Jesus too. The crowd in Jerusalem came out to welcome a great king and warrior, the long-awaited messiah-deliverer. Unlike Oscar, Jesus knew what he was doing – and what he was getting himself into. Oscar doesn’t and finally confesses to Glinda the Good that he isn’t a wizard at all. Glinda the  Perspicacious says, “I know. You’re not the wizard I expected but you are the one we need.”

Now the comparison does quickly break down. You can’t compare this con man, magician, lothario-cum-wizard to Jesus. Although there certainly are those who would want to attribute some of Jesus’ activities (not to mention the resurrection) as a lot of ‘smoke and mirrors.’  But Glinda’s recognition of who and what Oscar could be raises questions for anyone professing to be a follower of Jesus: what do we expect from Jesus? If we don’t believe in our need for a ‘savior from our sins,’ then who and what is Jesus? What is it that is oppressing us, from what do we need deliverance? What did the entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem, the crucifixion and the resurrection mean?

I suspect that most of us would like to have a wizard-Jesus or wizard-God enter into our lives and make our troubles magically disappear. I’ll confess that in times of trial, I revert to wanting the All-Powerful, Great and Terrible Oz to come down and fix things. But is that the God I need? No.  Is that the God Jesus showed us in his life? No.

I love the Jesus who produces this masterful guerrilla theater parade of palms into Jerusalem – in contrast to the pomp and show of military might across town as Pilate entered the city. His way of peace, his way of justice and facing down oppressors is not the quick-fix we might want. But this is the way we need.

I am glad to be part of the parade.

I have been a fan of the Jesus Seminar for many years. That makes me suspect in the eyes of many other Christians, including some of my own tradition.  I am, at best, a poor scholar and at worst, a heretic (by the way, I’m much more agreeable to being called a heretic than a poor scholar). I have great respect for the scholarship of those who have contributed and those who continue to contribute to the unfolding story of Christianity. Which is why I’m at the Spring Meeting of the Westar Institute in Santa Rosa: “Home of the Jesus Seminar.”

Elaine Pagels was the big draw this year, speaking and answering questions about her latest book, Revelations: Visions, Prophecy, and Politics in the Book of Revelation. Note that the title is Revelation(s) on purpose (how many years have I been ranting about the correct name of the final book of the New Testament?!); Pagel’s point is that there were more revelations than the only one that made it into the canon. Not unexpected from the author who brought us The Gnostic Gospels and Beyond Belief: the Secret Gospel of Thomas.  And really good stuff!  Pagels is a brilliant scholar and engaging speaker.

Other good stuff was “The Underground Church: Reclaiming the Subversive Way of Jesus” and “Mary Magdalene Leads the Way.”

But what turned out to be the best ‘revelation’ of the event is the launch of a new initiative: the Christianity Seminar.

Why a Christianity seminar?  According to the Westar web site (http://www.westarinstitute.org):
“The Jesus Seminar uncovered the historical figure of Jesus behind the New Testament gospels. The next challenge is to uncover the history of Christianity behind the New Testament. The Christianity Seminar will take the next step to reimagine how the movement that began around Jesus eventually became Christian orthodoxy and the official religion of the Roman Empire.”

This is exciting to me and I’ll wait expectantly for the studies, controversies, arguments, and maybe (gasp!) heresies that will be forthcoming. What will this mean to the local congregation?  I hope that it will be part of our ongoing discussions about what it means to be a Christian today.

Right now, I’m listening to a forum discussing the possibility of a God Seminar, which would include theologians and scientists, along with the biblical scholars.  Whoa! More good stuff!  I can’t wait until next year’s Spring Meeting!

Creed  /krēd/
noun
1. A system of Christian or other religious belief; a faith.
2. A formal statement of Christian beliefs, esp. the Apostles’ Creed or the Nicene Creed
Synonyms
belief – credo – faith – religion – persuasion

What to do with the creeds?  That’s a big question for progressive Christianity today. There’s a wide range of opinion on this: from accepting them as a standard of orthodoxy to eliminating them altogether. In between are more moderate positions, such as accepting them as historical documents, but not necessarily required as confessions of faith. Many churches also use various ‘affirmations of faith,’ written in contemporary language. While others view even these with suspicion, seeing anything that might be perceived as a required belief as a barrier to seekers and questioners.

One odd practice that I’ve encountered is that worshippers are instructed to say only those parts of the creed they feel comfortable with. I’ve tried it, and I’m not comfortable with that. I find myself getting too caught up in thinking about how it could mean, how I could interpret it, etc., that I end up just mumbling through it anyway.

I’m not against creeds, per se. I respect the Shahada declared by Muslims: “I bear witness that there is no god but Allah, and I bear witness that Muhammad is God’s messenger.” Short and sweet; I like that.

I also like the Shema of Judaism, which some define as a credal statement: “Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is one.” How can I not? Jesus called it the first of all the commandments.
After that, I’m open to discussion. There are some interesting attempts. I found this creed, adopted by the United Church of Canada as a supplement to the historical creeds:

   We are not alone,
              we live in God’s world.

   We believe in God:
              who has created and is creating,
              who has come in Jesus,
              the Word made flesh,
              to reconcile and make new,
              who works in us and others
              by the Spirit.

   We trust in God.

   We are called to be the Church:
              to celebrate God’s presence,             
              to live with respect in Creation,
              to love and serve others,
              to seek justice and resist evil,
              to proclaim Jesus, crucified and risen,
              our judge and our hope.
              In life, in death, in life beyond death,

   God is with us.

   We are not alone.

   Thanks be to God.

So – what do you think?

The big dust-up is almost a week old now – an eternity in entertainment news. But the controversy around the Oscar night tweet posted by The Onion, whose main purpose is parody and satire, continues.  Someone on staff thought that calling Quvenzhané Wallis, star of Beasts of the Southern Wild, a ’c**t’ was brilliant satire.  OK, I get the satire part: Wallis is sweet, sassy, self-assured, utterly adorable, nothing like the bitches typically painted with the ‘c’ brush. But was it appropriate? No. And probably worse, from The Onion’s perspective, it wasn’t funny. The public outcry was swift, and The Onion’s CEO apologized. Naturally, there was then a backlash to the apology by those upset that The Onion didn’t stand its ground.

The timing of this was interesting. Just that day I had given a sermon entitled Chicks for Jesus, based on the quote from Jesus about being like a mother hen (Luke 13:34). In it, I mentioned that I don’t normally want to be called a chick. Like ‘girl,’ it’s one of those names friends can call each other, but is not to be used otherwise. I thought afterward that I might have been too heavy-handed, citing the need that we still have for books like Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls and I’d Rather Be Dead than Be a Girl. Then I went home to the news from the Oscars.

I have to say, I had mixed reactions. I had to think about this for a while. After all, I’ve seen The Vagina Monologues. Oops, is it OK to say that? The ‘v’ word caused its own flap in the Michigan State House of Representatives in June.  Rep. Lisa Brown obviously knows the correct anatomical language – and is empowered by it. That was the reason behind the part of VM that works at convincing us that the ‘c’ word  is really quite wonderful, and even has the audience shouting it out loud and proud. Many women have declared that the word is not only as acceptable, but commands respect and honor. Reappropriating the ‘c’ word is likened to the reclaiming of ‘queer’ by the lgbtq community.  So I get it about empowerment. There is truth to the idea that we can transform the negative power of words into langauge that actually gives positive energy to those formerly dis-empowered. In a way, then, being so upset about this tweet is making Wallis into a victim and taking away her power.

Still, I didn’t like The Onion tweet. And still don’t, VM not-with-standing. I read some of the commentary from those upset with the O‘s apology. One man said, “Well, it’s obvious that the complainers haven’t seen The Vagina Monologues.” That tipped it for me. I can reclaim it; he can’t reclaim it for me. I can call myself a girl or a chick; he cannot. So along with all the other comments – back and forth, offended  and not offended, OK for adults but not kids, racial implications, etc. – I knew that I had not been too heavy-handed. We need to be ever-vigilant about the language we use, especially as it relates to our daughters and sons. It’s obvious that our culture is a big mixed bag of opinion, ethical perspectives, intelligence, self-awareness and  awareness of others – and everyone has a platform to say whatever they want via twitter, etc. And not all of it is useful.

Speaking as an adult, I may or may not be empowered by reclaiming the ‘c’ word (the jury’s still out), but I do not accept using it in reference to a 9-year-old girl. That amounts to bullying in my book. I’d bet that Quvenzhané Wallis will never be diminished by this incident; she is not a victim. We are diminished, however, if we think it was OK – as long as it was satire.

It wasn’t funny. Misogyny never is.

Our Savior is our true Mother in whom we are endlessly born and out of whom we shall never come. - Julian of Norwich

I don’t usually like being referred to as a chick. But after re-reading the words of Jesus, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem! How often have I wanted to gather your children together as a mother bird collects her babies under her wings,” I’ve decided that I want to be a chick for Jesus.

No, I don’t think Jesus is going to protect me from all danger; the foxes in the henhouse are real. But the thought of being enfolded under warm and loving wings is just too appealing to resist. As is the wonderfully gender-bending image of Jesus as Mother. Of course, if these words attributed to Jesus do come straight out of the call of Sophia (Wisdom) in Hebrew scripture, then the gender-bending nature of God has been in our tradition from early on. So we don’t need to get all twisted up in the masculinity of Jesus of Nazareth; it is the Divine One that woos us and lures us into Holy Love. This also means that being a chick isn’t gender-specific. In the same way ‘guys’ (I know you won’t all agree with me here) can be inclusive, so can ‘chicks.’

What does it mean to be a chick for Jesus? For me, it’s:

• seeing the Divine One as fiercely tender, protective of who I am and the person I am becoming
• having a ‘mother hen’ who not only adores me, but also challenges me to do what is right and true
• living under the guidance of Wisdom, not as a structure of rules, but as a way of being

Most of all (and maybe this is just because it’s what I need right now), it’s feeling the enveloping warmth, pulsing heartbeat, womb-like peace of this place beneath God’s breast. How about for you?

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the desert, and for forty days  was tempted by the Devil.  Luke 4:1

Oh, that crafty Devil! Good thing Jesus was perfect and couldn’t be lured into temptation – unlike me. I probably would’ve turned those stones to bread right off the bat (as I sit here eating the pretzels I just couldn’t resist on my trip to CVS). But just who or what is this ‘Devil’ anyway?  Is this the demon that turned poor Linda Blair’s head in The  Exorcist?  Is it the same as Ha-Satan in the Book of Job? Or is it the guy in the red suit with horns and pitchfork, characterized by  Jon Lovitz on Saturday Night Live?

If your answer is the Devil is the character found in the Bible, then you still have some ‘splaining to do. Because there’s a variety of definitions for this adversary, as ‘satan’ is often translated. Add to these, appearances in the sacred texts of Judaism, Islam, Zoroastrianism. Also take into account how some names originated as insults against gods of other nations, such as Beelzebub, which probably was the Philistine god, Ba’al Zabul.

With all of this ambiguity, what are we to make of this Devil who came out into the desert to give poor Jesus a hard time? Maybe the gospel writers made him up, created a literary device in order to show how Jesus came to understand his calling (after all, there weren’t any witnesses with cell phones out there to capture what went down; Jesus didn’t post pictures on his Facebook page). Knowing the development of this character leads me to believe this was the case. The gospel writers wanted to show us a vivd picture of Jesus wrestling with his own thoughts and temptations about what he felt called to do and be. You might say Jesus was on a vision quest, a walkabout or a silent retreat. If you’ve ever been on such a retreat you know that wrestling with our inner demons is all part of the experience. And when I say ‘inner demons,’ I mean those that have been created within us by other people, by our culture, as well as by our selves.

Temptation is real, no doubt about that. I believe that Jesus was really tempted and really could have chosen to follow a very different path. All the things the Devil offered were good: food for the hungry, a benevolent rule over all the world, safety and protection from all harm. You could say that the temptation was not of giving into the power of evil, but of doing the right things for the wrong reasons.

In a way, having an external Devil to blame for our internal struggles is easier than taking responsibility for them ourselves. We must be as self-aware as Jesus was, as in touch with the Spirit, as willing to follow the leading of Spirit rather than ego as Jesus was. That’s our Lenten discipline. Whether giving up chocolate or taking on a new practice is irrelevant, if we’re not doing it for the right reason.

So I’m giving up the Devil for Lent. That means I’m left with myself, which gives me plenty of temptation to work with. But I’m in good company: Jesus and all the faithful followers of the path he chose. Blessings to us all on the journey!

Latest reason for people to check ‘None’ when asked their religious affiliation: “Lutheran pastor in Newtown, CT apologizes for participating in an interfaith service for the 26 children and adults killed at the Sandy Hook Elementary School.”

Outrage, anger, sorrow, incredulity:  so many emotions roil around at this news. First there was the letter from the president of the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod detailing the ‘offense.’ Next came the letter of apology from Pastor Robert Morris, who, it should be noted, lost one of his own parishioners in the massacre.  Then came the incensed disclaimers from members of the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America), including my own: “This isn’t MY church! This is Missouri Synod Lutheranism. Please don’t tar us all with the same brush!” Later on, reports began to come in from other Missouri Synod clergy who are experiencing deja vu, recalling when the same thing happened to an LC-MS pastor in New York after 9/11. In that case, the pastor was suspended until he apologized.

My initial response was to post on Facebook that “I hope Pastor Morris and people of Christ the King do some serious soul-searching over this.” Now I see that was a trifle self-righteous. I’ve read the letter written by Morris, a newly-minted pastor, ordained not yet a year ago. His letter reveals that his decision to participate in the service, knowing the restrictions of his denomination, was done after much thought and soul-searching. He knew what he was doing and he knew the consequences. You could say that he took a “Here I stand” position. I could wish that he had also refused to recant (apologize), but I’m not in his shoes.

More distressing is the action that President Matthew Harrison thought an appropriate response. I can only shake my head at the mentality of a church that is so afraid of other religions and the specter of “unionism and syncretism” and dismissive of other Christians who do not agree.  As an LC-MS blogger wrote, in reference to the COEXIST bumper sticker: “ The witness of the cross in that place is not to the cross of Christ . . . but to a secular ideology . . . it is worth being called mean and sectarian to avoid having our name associated with the ‘coexist’ public ideology.”

So there you have it. And it’s so far away from my understanding of what it means to be a Christian in the Lutheran tradition, that I’m almost (almost!) speechless. What, I wonder, would Preisident Harrison have done with the professor and students in my ‘Martin Luther and Buddhism’ class at Pacific Lutheran Theolgical Seminary?!

I don’t want to judge the good people who are members of Missouri Synod congregations. I don’t want to be self-righteous toward LC-MS colleagues who are struggling to deal with an antiquated hierarchy. They will have to make their own decisions about what to do when their church makes a fool of itself – as will we all. But I do want to say that I wholeheartedly and vehemently disagree with the wrong-headed position of the LC-MS and hope that more progressive heads will eventually prevail.

In the meantime, I absolutely want everyone to know: This isn’t us!!!

Interesting article on patheos.com about the church as front porch.  Author Anthony Robinson calls the metaphor of the front  porch “an intermediate space between street and interior, a place for casual interaction that might grow.”

He starts off with the usual churchy whine about the consumer mentality of people looking for entertainment in church, for a place for their own needs to be met. I’m glad I didn’t stop there, even though I get tired of the hand wringing about the church’s captivity to consumer culture. Finally he got to the point: that “in a society that has a growing number of un- and de-churched people, we need to meet people where they are.”  To me that means we get outside of the church building and go where people are. We listen to the un-churched and de-churched and not get defensive when we hear their stories (which can range all the way from abuse to simple boredom). Nothing new there.

But then he continues: “But meeting them there doesn’t mean leaving them there.” Now he had my attention. This is the big question that I find myself wrestling with. My own observation is that we have a core congregation of ‘members,’ but we also have a larger group of affiliates, contacts, seekers, blog readers, web site visitors, etc. who may or may not ever attend  a Sunday service.  This larger group isn’t looking for entertainment; I find that most are searching for a place (actual or virtual) where it’s OK to have doubts, ask questions, find a connection with the Sacred, and not be required to make a big commitment of attendance, committee work, or denominational loyalty.  I guess we could call them our ‘front porch’ friends.

Now what does this mean for how we see ourselves as the church? How do we create a place that includes a front porch, where people can be part of a community, maybe without ever becoming ‘members?’  Robinson gives examples of ways that some churches are doing it: seeker services, coffee shop ministries, community projects and activities. I realize that St. Cyprian’s, the church where we meet, has a front porch in its community center and outreach into the surrounding neighborhood. I’m also aware of the tension between balancing the needs of the center and those of the congregation. Still, it’s the right concept.

So what do you think about this ‘front porch’ metaphor?  What are your ideas for welcoming people onto the porch? I’d really like to know.

Some years ago, when I was an intern at the Interfaith Center at the Presidio, I was part of a group planning a conference called ‘Healing the World.’  My title at ICP (at least it said so on my  business cards) was Community and Congregations Liaison, which meant that I was supposed to make contact with all the religious traditions in the Bay area and find someone from each who would promote the conference. Interns get assigned such fun – and overwhelming – tasks!  The planning committee was made up of people from ICP, but also from an ecumenical Christian organization. For some if these folks, this was the first foray into interfaith cooperation and their definition of interfaith was not as broad as ICP’s.  So, for instance, inviting a Wiccan priest to offer a blessing caused some initial consternation. Another incident stands out in my mind as I think about my ongoing fascination with the Magi of Matthew’s Nativity story. I was reporting on my progress in finding representation from the Bay area’s diverse traditions. When I mentioned that I  was still pursuing a lead in the Zoroastrian community, someone exclaimed, “I don’t think there’s any need to include them!” Needless to say, I continued. For heaven’s sake, didn’t he know that Freddie Mercury’s funeral was conducted by a Zoroastrian priest?!

More and more I have become enchanted with the idea of the Magi being Zoroastrians.  So when Brian Arthur Brown
, in his new book, Three Testaments: Torah, Gospel and Quran puts forth the idea that Zoroastrianism, the ancient religion of Persia, has had a great influence on Judaism, Christianity and Islam, I was sold. In what he calls the ‘Z’ factor, Brown identifies the common background of our sacred texts. What fun!  This opens up new vistas for how we think about creation, sacrifice, Satan, judgment, resurrection, paradise, and even our concepts of God and of a Messiah or Savior of the world. It encourages us to learn about one another and find out where our traditions overlap and where they diverge.  At the very least, it commands respect for those we consider to be ‘other,’ to lift up our heads to acknowledge their presence and their value.

And since next week is World Interfaith Harmony Week, what better way to observe it than to reach out to our neighbors, who just may turn into friends. ‘Tis the gift of the Magi.

http://worldinterfaithharmonyweek.com