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About djgrieser

I have been Rector of Grace Episcopal Church in Madison, WI since 2009. I'm passionate about Jesus Christ and about connecting our faith and tradition with 21st century culture. I'm also very active in advocating for our homeless neighbors.

Blessing of the Animals–Photos

On Sunday, October 3, we had a Blessing of the Animals as part of our 10:00 service. Here are some pictures:

 

Figaro wanting to join the procession

 

 

That's "Prada" in the cage

 

 

The full gallery is available here:

To be honest, I decided to do the Blessing at the main Sunday service on the spur of the moment. I’ve usually done it on Saturdays or on the weekday, wherever the Feast of St. Francis falls. And I was regretting my decision when I woke up at 3:00 am on Sunday morning catastrophizing all of the possible things that could go wrong–from no one bringing their pets to the prospect of total chaos breaking out.

In the end, it went very well. The pets were very well behaved as were the people who accompanied them. We had a great time. Several people remarked on how wonderful the service was, so I suppose we’ll be doing this regularly from here on out.

“Glee” and Religion in America

There’s a lively comment thread  on the Episcopal Church’s Facebook page about last night’s episode. It was interesting, especially in light of several themes repeated on this blog–the relationship between religion and secularism, contemporary American spirituality, and the role of religious knowledge. Much of the show seemed sensitive and thoughtful–teens dealing with questions of faith, for example, and the struggle with loved ones who are suffering.

Well-done, too, was the debate about the role of religion in public schools. How far can teachers and students go in proselytizing? What religious themes or topics are valid for public school classrooms?

Still, I found it ironic that after the debate about what students could and couldn’t sing in the school room, when the scene shifted to church, instead of a straightforward gospel number, we heard a version of “Bridge over Troubled Water.” I’m just not sure what to make of that. It’s almost as if the show’s producers were as uncomfortable about an openly-religious song in their show as school administrators tend to be.

More on that Pew survey

I blogged on this last week, but there’s an interesting series of comments from scholars about the survey and what it reveals and doesn’t reveal. Perhaps the most interesting point, made by several of the scholars, had to do with religious knowledge itself. What constitutes religious knowledge? Is it being able to parrot doctrine in response to questions? Is it being able to recite the creed, or to know that Catholics believe the bread and wine become the body and blood of Jesus Christ?

To take the latter question, if someone has deep Eucharistic devotion and is wont to meditate or pray at the Reserved Sacrament, yet cannot articulate the doctrine of transsubstantiation, do they believe that bread and wine become the body and blood of Jesus Christ? Their actions certainly suggest they are encountering the divine in some way.

Certainly, religion is more than doctrine and faith more than assent to a series of propositions. One academic suggested that part of the problem is that preachers don’t preach what seem to be core doctrines to theologians. Thus mainline Presbyterians rarely mention the finer points of Calvinist theology from the pulpit.

Wearing the hat of a scholar of religious studies, I grant the point. As a pastor, I also know that people attend and belong to churches for all sorts of reasons. Still, it seems to me that it can’t hurt to pose the questions occasionally, to ask people both what they know and what they believe, and to try to determine whether there are discrepancies between faith, religious knowledge, and religious practice.

One of the scholars brought up the category of “Lived Religion,” briefly put religion as expressed through ritual, practice, and the like. In my experience, some of the most vocal believers could express their faith easily in words, but did not demonstrate it either in their ethical actions or in their religious practice.

Twenty years ago

Twenty years ago, on October 3, 1990, Germany celebrated reunification. In some respects, it was something of an anti-climax after the drama of the previous Autumn with the fall of the Berlin Wall. But we were there for the official reunification and it was only late yesterday that I realized where I was twenty years ago and what happened.

We were far from the center of things, living in Tuebingen in Baden-Wuerttemberg, in Germany’s southwest. Tuebingen is a university town. When we arrived in September of 1990, it was already bursting at the seams as a result of the changes taking place. Students from the east were eager to study in West German universities. Housing, always a problem in a college town, was impossible.

There were no parades, no speeches, no flags on October 3, 1990. All that we saw in the center of the city was a counter demonstration–people dressed in black symbolizing mourning and if I recall correctly, they were singing or playing somber music.

I remember the hope and excitement of 1989. I also remember the disappointment as reunification actually took place. The cutbacks forced in the west to pay for reunification were already taking their toll. West Germany’s Fulbright Foundation learned just a few days before our arrival that they would have to find money for the East German scholars from the budget that had already been appropriated for us. It was also the time of build-up to the first Gulf War.

Over the course of that year, we had occasion to visit Berlin, and Wittenberg, where some of the early demonstrations took place. We saw Soviet troops pulling out of East Germany. We saw the scars left by the Berlin Wall.

From the perspective of 2010, those events seem ancient history. The euphoria, the hope, and the important role Protestant Christians played in the demonstrations that led to the collapse of the DDR, opened up a future that no one could have imagined a year or a decade before. Twenty years later, that imagined future lays beneath the rubble of problems–from the reality of the hard work of reunification that still needs to take place, to September 11, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the financial meltdown, the global environmental crisis. I wonder if there is any way to rekindle the hope of twenty years ago.

Homily for the Blessing of the Animals

Francis in the 21st Century

October 3, 2010

Tomorrow is the Feast of St. Francis, marking the saint’s death 784 years ago. St. Francis is among the most beloved and most familiar of all the saints of western Christianity. He is beloved today as he has been for nearly 800 years, In the contemporary world, St. Francis remains among the most beloved figures in the Christian tradition. His love of animals and of God’s creation have made him an icon of the environmental movement. His joy, playfulness, and child-like faith offer an alternative to a Christianity that often seems to take itself too seriously.

There was much more to St. Francis, though. He preached to human beings as well as to birds and he showed in his lifestyle a serious and radical commitment to the imitation of Christ. For him, following Christ meant trying to live exactly as Jesus and his disciples did. He demanded of his followers that they own no property whatsoever. One of his slogans was: “naked to follow the naked Christ.” He took that quite literally. One of the key moments in his story is that when he renounced his share of his family’s wealth and threw himself on the mercy of the church, he stripped nude in the city square of Assisi in front of his parents and the bishop.

Equally dramatic was his identification with Christ. Francis is attributed with setting up the first crèche (nativity scene). Near the end of his life, after he had given up control of the religious order he had founded and retreated into a life of solitude, he is believed to have received the stigmata—he bore on his hands and feet the wounds Jesus Christ received on the cross. It is the first recorded example of that phenomenon in the history of Christianity. His reception of the stigmata is evidence of his total identification with his Lord. It is also an example of another trend to which Francis gave impetus. Although the suffering of Christ was already an important focus of Christian piety by the time Francis came on the scene, his devotion to it helped make it wildly popular in the later Middle Ages.

Today offers us the opportunity to reflect on Francis, on his legacy, his faith, and his significance for today. It’s a curious thing that with all of what Francis meant, that the way we honor him most often in the twenty-first century is with the blessing of the animals. It’s curious because there’s little evidence that Francis related to animals in quite the way we tend to relate to our pets. Oh, he loved them, preached to them, and in the case of the wolf of Gubbio, he turned him into a pacifist and a vegetarian. But he certainly didn’t treat animals like family members, which is the way many of us treat our pets.

Indeed, one of the reasons I like the blessing of the animals is because it is one small way to acknowledge the important role our pets play in many of our lives. If you don’t have no, or never have had a pet, this may be hard to imagine, but for those of us who include animals among our household, they truly are often like members of the family. Indeed, it’s not an exaggeration to say that some people have closer and deeper relationships with their pets than they have with other humans.

That may sound shocking, but it shouldn’t be. Our pets are utterly dependent on us, –yes, that’s true even of cats, no matter what they might think, and whatever attitude they might have at the moment. And they share love and devotion with us. Now, I’m not about to say that all dogs go to heaven; that’s not my call, but I do know that for many of us, our spiritual lives are also experienced and deepened through our relationships with animals.

So it’s appropriate to bring our pets with us to church at least once a year, and on that day, to ask God’s blessing on them and on our relationships with them. Yes, it may be a little disruptive, and perhaps even a little unseemly. Nonetheless, to acknowledge the role our pets play in our lives is also to acknowledge our full humanity, in all of its messiness and unseemliness.

And if there’s anything that St. Francis was about, it was that. His ministry was among the poor and the downtrodden. He and his followers sought to help those who were sick and dying and he brought the gospel to places it was rarely heard or experienced. His life was preaching the gospel. As is often attributed to him, he said, preach the gospel, if you have to, use words.

Our culture, indeed, our religious sensibilities, often lead us to disparage the concrete and the real. We want our spiritual lives to exist in some nebulous ether up there, far from the down and dirty of daily life. But Francis was just the opposite. He sought to lead others, through the concrete and real to know Jesus Christ. That’s what led him to create the first nativity scene, for it is in the incarnation, when Jesus became human, that we see God most clearly.

Francis sought to embody the love of Christ. Following Christ for him did not mean the abstract, either, but the literal. Some of what Francis did we may find humorous, silly, or even offensive. But when he gathered a group of men around himself, and organized them, he took his model from Jesus’ sending his disciples out into the world two by two. So as Jesus said in Matthew, they were dressed in tunic and sandals with a rope for a belt. They had no money or possessions.

In the end, Francis’ identification with Christ became so complete that he received the stigmata—his body bore on it the wounds of the crucified Christ. If nothing more, that identification should remind us of what it means to follow Christ, to seek to form ourselves and our lives in the image of Christ.

We have been hearing a great deal about discipleship as we have been reading from the Gospel of Luke. The call to discipleship, to follow Jesus is clear. What Jesus means by following him also seems clear—hard sayings like “none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.” What doesn’t see clear is how to follow Jesus in the twenty-first century, in our world which is so very different than first-century Palestine, and in our lives, which are so very different from the lives of first-century peasants.

That’s one way the saints can be of help. In the Anglican tradition, we regard the saints primarily as models of faith. Their lives and their faith should inspire and challenge us to deepen our own faith and discipleship. They were human beings like us, with shortcomings and faults like ours, who received the grace to follow Christ more closely and to experience God more deeply than most of us. Francis followed Jesus in a way that was completely consistent with the gospel, and perfectly suited to the early twelfth century. It is our job as faithful Christians, to shape our lives similarly, consistent with the Gospel, adapted to the present.

In this present day, there may be no more urgent message we need to hear than the one carried by the presence of animals in our worship. For they remind us that our relationship with God is not just about us and God. It includes all of creation. Creation proclaims the glory and love of God and in an age of climate change and environmental degradation, to see our responsibility to the earth as part of what it means to follow Jesus, may be the most important thing of all.

Blessing of the Animals

I woke up in the middle of the night last night, asking myself why I decided to have a Blessing of the Animals at the 10:00 service today. I could have done it yesterday; I could have done it this afternoon; I could have done it tomorrow. As I stared at the ceiling, I imagined all the ways the service could go wrong–animals out of control; humans outraged; no animals whatsoever.

In the end it was great, all of it. Sure the service went a little long, but it was fun, joy-filled, and well-attended. There were animals: stuffed ones, some ashes, several photographs and digital images. There were real animals, too: dogs, cats, hamsters, and a rabbit named Prada. The joy for me was not only seeing all of those animals, and acknowledging all of the love in these relationships; above all, the joy was in seeing the joy on the faces of everyone in the congregation as we celebrated God’s creation together.

I think we’ll do it this way in future years, too.

Religion and Secular Reason

The Immanent Frame posts a blog entry by John H. Evans on the use of secular and religious reason by religious people in arguments. He contends that for many conservative Christians, the appeal to religion (Lev. 18:22 in the case of homosexuality, for example) is rarely foregrounded. Instead, they make secular arguments.

He’s playing off of those theorists like Rawls, Rorty, and even Habermas, who argue that religious people must be able to communicate in secular terms in order to have a place in public debate. Rorty, for example says that “religious reasons are a conversation-stopper, because they are unintelligible to those who do not share one’s religious beliefs.”

I’ve posted on these issues before. Evans in keeping with the folks behind The Immanent Frame, is trying to test these things empirically. So he has interviewed religious people and secular people about how they use argument and how they think about religious reasons when making arguments.

What struck me was not his research, the questions he asked, or his advocacy of translation (of religious arguments into language accessible to all), but rather the role religious argument plays in convincing people of their own positions. I’ve long suspected that most conservative Christians (and adherents of other religious traditions) come to their political and ethical positions first, and then seek religious sanction for them.

Don’t know much about religion…

Once again, screaming headlines in the news: “Atheists know more about religion than Christians,” or something like that. The Pew Forum produced another one of its polls that seem designed to get headlines, if not careful analysis. A poll of some 3400 Americans asked 32 questions about religion. On average, atheists got 20.9 correct. Evangelical Protestants got 17.6 correct and mainline Protestants scored even lower.

Two articles I read, in the NY Times and AP pointed out that neither Protestants or Catholics knew some of the basic tenets or historical details of their faith. 45% of Catholics didn’t know they were supposed to believe in transsubstantiation; 51% of Protestants don’t know that Martin Luther started the Protestant Reformation.

That atheists and agnostics answered more questions correctly than Evangelical Protestants is hardly surprising. The survey questions about Islam and other religions, and no doubt most Christians got few of those questions correct.

What’s the takeaway? My guess is that if the Pew Forum polled clergy about the religious knowledge of their congregations, they would receive strongly-worded replies about their inadequate understanding of their own faith.

This past Friday, Professor Tom Long of Candler School of Theology at Emory University spoke to clergy and laypeople in Madison. He told a great story about a rabbi friend of his in Atlanta who was invited to attend an interfaith group meeting that involved members of his synagogue and members of a nearby Protestant church. When asked what he thought of the meeting by someone in attendance, he said something like, before you can have interfaith dialogue, you have to know something about your own faith and suggested that he knew more about Christianity than many of the Christians in attendance.

The problem is not unique to churches. Americans seem to avoid thinking deeply about anything or wanting to learn. Is it a problem of our educational system, the media culture? But it’s a tragedy that we can’t seem to do anything about it in church, either. If people wonder why my sermons are long on historical background and the biblical text, it’s because I’ve realized that the pulpit has to be the primary locus of education in contemporary Christianity. Now, whether or not the people will stay awake, that’s another question

Religion and Science: Proof for the non-existence of the soul

One of the things I like about Andrew Sullivan’s blog is that he links to an amazing variety of material. Yesterday, for example, there were links to essays on agnosticism, the Pope’s visit to Britain, Susanna Heschel’s takedown of the same Pope’s link of atheism and Nazism, and the continuing power of confession on former Catholics, in addition to other fare. Each of these deserves close reading, reflection, and might be worthy of comment.

However, the one that takes the case is this piece from a scientist who seems to think he has found incontrovertible proof for the non-existence of the soul. He cites the case of a stroke victim who cannot recognize her own arm. He concludes:

Now consider yourself. Consider your own left arm. It feels perfect, under your control, a part of you, exactly where it should be. But this unified perception relies on neuronal machinery humming in the background, far beneath conscious awareness. Your sense of unity, only perceptible to you, is a sheen on the surface, not a deeper layer of reality.

Where does this leave the soul? Does the soul make any sense in the face of a brain and mind so easily fractured by ischemia? A soul is immaterial, eternal, a little god, impervious to injury, able to survive our deaths. Yet here we see one injured, tethered so close to the injured brain that there is no string. We see a hole, and through it we get a glimpse into the brain’s inner workings. One part is damaged; another part falsely thinks it is whole. How does the idea of a unified soul make any sense in the face of this data?

That this sophomoric argument is made by a reputable scientist and posted on what I can only assume is a reputable website, is laughable. In fact, Weisman has never bothered to engage with the philosophical literature on the nature of the soul. As a reader of Sullivan’s website commented: “Mr. Weisman’s article is a perfect example of the arrogance of those who use science to rebut philosophical and theological concepts which they can’t be bothered to actually study.”

That the soul might be divided is hardly surprising to anyone who has read a little philosophy. That the soul might not be in tune with the body is no news to Christian theology. One despairs of the future of intellectual life, and of the relationship between science and religion, if either side is carried out by people who write and publish this sort of thing.

Proper 21, Year C: September 26, 2010

I know what you’re thinking. You’ve listened to the lesson from I Timothy and the Gospel of Luke, and you’re saying to yourself, “Do we have to listen to scripture about wealth and poverty and money again? Another sermon about wealth and poverty and money?” Well, the answer is, yes. I’ve got no choice because I preach the gospel and we’re working our way through the Gospel of Luke. On the other hand, we’re Episcopalian, so we don’t come to church every Sunday, and we’ve missed some of those sermons…. Continue reading