Monthly Archives: August 2013

Rowan Williams on Spirituality

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In an interview that included comments about some Christians’ persecution complex and his response to the question whether gays and lesbians might feel “let down” by him, Williams, the former Archbishop of Canterbury had some interesting things to say about “spirituality:”

Sharing a platform at the Edinburgh international book festival with Julia Neuberger, president of the Liberal Judaism movement, Williams launched a withering critique of popular ideas about spirituality. “The last thing it is about is the placid hum of a well-conducted meditation,” he said.

He said the word “spiritual” in today’s society was frequently misused in two ways: either to mean “unworldly and useless, which is probably the sense in which it has been used about me”, or “meaning ‘I’m serious about my inner life, I want to cultivate my sensibility'”.

He added: “Speaking from the Christian tradition, the idea that being spiritual is just about having nice experiences is rather laughable. Most people who have written seriously about the life of the spirit in Christianity and Judaism spend a lot of their time telling you how absolutely bloody awful it is.” Neuberger said she found some uses of the word self-indulgent and offensive. Williams argued that true spirituality was not simply about fostering the inner life but was about the individual’s interaction with others.

“I’d like to think, at the very least, that spiritual care meant tending to every possible dimension of sense of the self and each other, that it was about filling out as fully as possible human experience,” he said.

Asked by Neuberger whether he felt organised religion encouraged the life of the spirit, he replied: “The answer is of course a good Anglican yes and no”. While it can pass on the shared values of tradition, it can also operate as simply “the most satisfying leisure activity possible. It can also be something that you use to bolster your individual corporate ego.”

The entire report is here.

Madison, a town without pity, updated

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Joe Tarr (Isthmus) reports on last night’s demo and Homeless Issues Committee meeting, where, you guessed it, a day resource center was on the agenda. Pat Schneider has also written about it.

Because I’m feeling rather nostalgic this evening, I thought I would link to blogposts in 2011 and 2012 that addressed the same issue.

From August, 2012: “A day shelter for Madison” (in which I talk about a patient discharged from the VA hospital and sent to Grace)

From October, 2012

From November, 2012 (my testimony before the County Board of Supervisors)

From November, 2011 (with links to earlier developments in the story)

Couldn’t we all just save energy by referring back to these earlier debates and conversations?  It’s political football season again, with our vulnerable homeless population serving as the football, getting kicked around by bureaucrats and elected officials.

Heroes, Faith, and God’s Promises: A Sermon for Proper 14, Year C

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After 45 years, I can still rattle off the starting line-up for the Detroit Tigers World Series championship team of 1968. I listened to every game on the radio, read about them in the paper the next day. They were my heroes. I’m not much of a baseball fan anymore except if the Tigers are winning (which they are right now). It’s just not the same now. It’s become big business, entertainment and it’s hard to look at any of the players, any professional athlete of any sport, with any sort of adulation. And now this week with Brewers star Ryan Braun suspended and the Yankees’ Alex Rodriguez facing a ban through all of 2014, we know that every player’s stats are now tainted by the possibility that they have used performance enhancing drugs. But in other areas of life, it seems like people who we want to emulate, people who are held up as role models, inevitably have feet of clay. Continue reading →

Madison: “A Town without Pity”

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Charlie Blow has an op-ed in tomorrow’s New York Times with the above title. He writes:

Today’s America — at least as measured by the actions and inactions of the pariahs who roam its halls of power and the people who put them there — is insular, cruel and uncaring.

That seems to describe Madison, WI, pretty well, too.

We’ve learned that in spite of money in the county budget for a permanent day resource center for homeless people, it’s likely that none will exist this year. A little money to existing programs will be enough. Oh, and the Central Library is reopening in September, so homeless people can hang out there in inclement weather. Lovely.

To put it bluntly, all of the people who fall through the cracks: patients discharged from hospitals with nowhere to go; the homeless mother who’s been sleeping in her car with her three children for the last several weeks; the elderly disabled woman who was told to come to Grace when she went to a facility that wasn’t accessible; all of them will have no option this winter other than the library.

For more on the latest concerning the Day Resource Center, here’s what Brenda Konkel has to say.

Yup, I think Charlie Blow has it just about right. Madison, a town without pity.

Cat-blogging: Thomas Merton

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We received the terrible news that Thomas Merton, our fourteen-year old, has a tumor in his jaw and will likely die within a few weeks. He’d been drooling for the past several weeks and Corrie took him to the vet in our cat stroller. We’re shocked because other than that, he’s showed no symptoms of illness. And we attributed his mouth issues to the fact that he had two or three teeth removed in January and had something of a grimace ever since.

The vet asked Corrie if his tongue had been sticking out, but that had been the case for years. Apparently there’s nothing that can be done with this particular sort of tumor except to try to control the pain, and when he is no longer able to eat, that will be a sign that we need to let him die.

Merton came to us in the winter of 2000. Corrie had the bright idea, after we’d moved to Spartanburg, that Margery needed a friend. He had been found with his siblings in a box in an abandoned mill. A rescue organization found a foster home for him. He was about nine months old when he joined our family. The adoption process was quite rigorous. They made a home visit before placing him with us, and then after he’d been living with us for several weeks, they came back. This time, the foster family came along, including the little children, pre-schoolers. When we told them that we had named him Thomas Merton (our other cats were Maggie Pie and Margery, so we were going with “M”s), the little boy asked if that was a “Christian name” (they had called him “Lazarus”). The family were fundamentalists, and I suppose the boy worried that a name change might mean that Merton would burn in hell for eternity.

The idea of having a playmate for Margery never worked out. Merton was an alpha male and bonded with Corrie immediately. He is vocal, and playful. For years, he would play “ballie ball” with us. As soon as we got into bed at night to read, he would jump in the bed with one of his balls (spongie things the size of golf balls). He would drop it and start to meow until we tossed it across the room. He would run and catch it, bring it back. This would continue until we turned the lights out. He’ll still occasionally find one of these balls and bring it to us, but at fourteen, he’s content to watch us throw it.

Bodhi arrived as a tiny little kitten in 2003 and the two of them were fast friends (Merton always annoyed the two older cats, occasionally jumping them when they emerged from the litter box, or otherwise just terrorizing them). But when Pilgrim arrived at Thanksgiving 2004, Merton’s took to her. They could play for hours, often rough-housing throughout the house.

He’s slowed down considerably over the last few years but one thing hasn’t changed. He is incredibly affectionate and deeply attached to Corrie. He wants to be on her, or near almost all of the time. He usually sleeps between our pillows in the bed, depending on the mood he’ll lean on one or the other of us.

Oh, and like so many males, he’s never met an 18-year old girl he didn’t like. When Corrie was teaching at a women’s college and often had students over, he would be in the middle of the group, accepting their praise and their caresses as were his due.

My favorite picture of him is this one, where he seems to have just completed reading Augustine’s City of God, and has decided it wasn’t worth the effort (probably somewhere between 2002 and 2004):

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Here is in his prime, somewhere between 2006 and 2009, proving that although he weighed 20 pounds, he could still act like a kitten.

4422_1092553226512_5665392_nAnd here he is tonight:

photo(1)I blogged about Margery’s last days and death last December, and linked to Anne Lamott’s description of her cat’s death here.

Andrew Sullivan lost one of his beloved pet dogs over the weekend, and in the past few weeks has been blogging about what we learn as we watch our pets die.

 

The Vanity of Self-Absorption: A Sermon for Proper 13, Year C

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I’ve had occasion this summer to talk with a lot of people about their lives and journeys. Some of those conversations have been over lunch and I look forward to more of them. Others have taken place in more traditional pastoral settings—during pre-marital counseling, at a bedside in a nursing home, or as we discuss funeral arrangements either for themselves or for loved ones. Such conversations can become the heart of pastoral ministry, especially when we allow ourselves to open up and talk about our deepest hopes and fears. Crises like serious illness or death can become the opportunity to reflect on what really matters. Continue reading →

Are millennials really all that different from the rest of us (at least when it comes to church)?

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In part 2 of her blog posts at CNN, Rachel Held Evans tells us (and millennials) why they still need the church. Guess what! It’s all about community and the sacraments! She links to some other responses to her earlier piece here.

Yesterday, Richard Beck asked, “What does Rachel Held Evans want?” His answer:

So what does she want? Let me try to put it this way, and I’m just guessing with this. I think what Rachel wants is what a lot of us want. We want a mainline theological and social sensibility combined with an evangelical church expression.

In short, a progressive vision of the evangelical church.

That got me thinking back to my own experience as a baby boomer (and a Mennonite, which did not quite fit the Evangelical camp back in those days). My disaffection with the church began when I was a teenager. In college, there was a term I took a shift in the dining hall on Sunday mornings so I wouldn’t submit to the temptation of going to church (where I would inevitably be disappointed by everything except the hymns).

In Divinity School, my friends and I joked that the Mennonite congregation in town was more like Mennonites Anonymous than the Body of Christ (but we still sang with gusto and emotion). Reading Beck reminded me of why I left the Mennonite Church, and why it took so long for me to make the final break. I was formed by that community, its worship, theology, and ethics, but there came a point where I could no longer find a home in it. I had changed theologically, having discovered the great treasure of Christian theology and spirituality from across the whole of the Christian tradition.

I recently was asked by an old Mennonite friend as we were talking about the decline of Christianity in the US and the struggles in the Episcopal Church, if I regretted having become Episcopalian and become a priest. I’m not sure what precisely I said in response, perhaps that I had no choice in the matter. I should have said that I find God’s grace in the sacraments, that the Book of Common Prayer has shaped my experience of Jesus Christ, and that in the local parish, and in the institutional church, I can still discern God’s grace at work.

Still, I hold my commitment to the institution of the Episcopal Church very lightly. I’m not interested in its long-term survival (except for the Church Pension Fund, of course). What I am committed to is the vision of Christianity expressed by Anglicanism. I believe that vision will survive and can thrive in other institutional forms than those that currently exist. I also believe that we can provide a place where people encounter the love of Jesus Christ and the grace of God in life-changing ways. That’s why I’m a priest.

We have certainly seen a transformation in the way individuals relate to institutions in the last fifty years. It began with baby boomers but has accelerated in subsequent generations. Still, most humans will always seek community of some sort as well as a deeper purpose or meaning in life. What’s changed is that churches are no longer assumed to be the primary places where individuals might seek or find those things. There are other places to go, other ways of connecting with people. As an essay I pointed to earlier this week argues, with more and more people raised as non-religious by religiously unaffiliated parents, many might not imagine that the church, any church, is relevant to their lives and their journeys.

It’s likely that young adults today in and the immediate future will be as lightly committed to local congregations or religious communities as I am to the institutional church beyond my parish. I’m already seeing that to some degree at Grace with many young adults attending regularly or semi-regularly but developing no relationships with others in the congregation. That’s not always the case, not even the majority. And I don’t mean this by way of criticism. Young adults may connect with the sacred and with God at Grace. Some of them may be searching for community elsewhere; perhaps they’ll be surprised by God’s grace and find it among us.

Sometimes the rest of us do too; and sometimes we’re as surprised to find God’s grace here as we are to find connection with other humans.

Handwringing (or not) over Millennials and “the church”

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Rachel Held Evans has started another conversation about millennials and “the church” (whatever “the church” may be).

The debate interests me because of the participants. There are progressive Christians (Episcopalians) who read stories like Rachel Held Evans and see an opening for us to gain new members. Then there are the Evangelicals (who are largely her audience). And finally, there are the atheists, or permanently unaffiliated. Held Evans has written eloquently about the pain caused her by evangelical Christianity, and that pain is expressed by many of the comments in this piece: Why we left the Church:

We are an entire generation with the broken pieces of our religion scattered on the floor around us.

We are the children who learned fake smiles too early, who found all the right answers dissatisfying, who know what it’s like to sit in a pew with our hearts a thousand miles away. For us, Sunday morning is the loneliest hour of the week.

When I think of “Millennials leaving the church”, these are the voices I hear. If you haven’t left the church, please just listen. Listen closely.

Cole Carnesacca sees a problem in how Held Evans frames her argument:

This statement is at once true and not true. It’s true in that there is obviously much that churches can do to better engage with Christ, with the fullness of who he was and what his message required. But it also reflects the astounding arrogance of individualism. The assumption underlying that statement is that the individual is the arbiter of truth in the world. It implies that millennials would know Jesus when they saw him, and the church needs to change itself until they can see him there.  What it leaves out is the idea that millennials need to conform themselves to the church to find Christ there—which is, after all, the point of the very liturgies RHE references.

Millennials, we are reminded, have children, too.

Meghan Florian has this to say:

The thing I find difficult in the slew of articles published recently is that they seem to be trying to talk quantitatively about something deeply personal: a human being’s relationship to the divine. Talking about an entire generation, the infamous “millennials,” holds people at an arm’s length by relying on broad generalizations, and while some of what has been written lately is useful, none of it will ever tell me why a particular someone left the church, just as it can never tell you fully why I stayed. Even my own reasons are barely the tip of the iceberg—a few tangible details that hint at a longer story.

But it may beyond the expertise and power of religious institutions to reach millennials (and later generations. More and more Americans are being raised in religiously unaffiliated households, and remain unaffiliated as they age.

Along that line, Hollis Phelps suggests:

Rather, it seems to me that “authenticity” itself is the problem; the assumption that the churches know and can provide what millennials really want and need. That’s what I’ve observed among my students, many of whom aren’t criticizing an inauthentic faith set against an authentic faith but the notion of faith itself and its Christian articulation.

But it’s not just millennials leaving the church! Empty nesters are doing it, too!

Two scholarly reviews of Aslan’s Zealot

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Whatever the fallout from the interview, and the bestseller status achieved by Aslan, I’m doubtful that New Testament scholars, or the more narrow circle of historical Jesus scholars, will agree with much of Aslan’s account of Jesus.

Anthony Le Donne is scathing:

Jesus’ preaching about God’s kingdom is undoubtedly political.  It makes sense that this teaching was directly related to the title posted on the cross (and/or the symbolic value of that title in Christian memory).  This much is not all that controversial.  Defining “political” is the key problem.  Reza Aslan’s book barely touches the vast sea of literature on this problem.  In short, this book is a surface-level (albeit well-promoted) rehash of an old puzzle in Jesus research.  Unfortunately, Aslan brings nothing new to the table that will help us solve the puzzle. He simply dismisses all of Jesus’ sayings about nonviolence as Christian invention.  This move isn’t unheard of, but he fails to make his case for invention adequately.

Greg Carey is more charitable:

I would add that Aslan provides some of the most helpful discussions I have yet encountered regarding the accounts of Jesus’ healing ministry and of his resurrection. These stories represent minefields for any historical investigator. Aslan handles them with sympathy, imagination, and critical judgment.

At the same time, I have some serious reservations about Aslan’s portrait of Jesus, and I suspect that most professional biblical scholars will share some of them. First, the book contains some outright glitches, things a professional scholar would be unlikely to say. Aslan suggests there were “countless” revolutionary prophets and would-be messiahs in Jesus’ day. Several did appear, but “countless” is a bit much. Aslan assumes near-universal illiteracy in Jesus’ society, an issue that remains unsettled and hotly contested among specialists. At one point Aslan says it would seem “unthinkable” for an adult Jewish man not to marry. He does mention celibate Jews like the Essenes, but he seems unaware that women were simply scarce in the ancient world. Lots of low-status men lacked the opportunity to marry. Aslan assumes Jesus lived and worked in Sepphoris, a significant city near Nazareth. This is possible, but we lack evidence to confirm it.