Preaching Grace: Nadia Bolz Weber’s visit to Madison

Nadia Bolz-Weber led worship, lectured, and answered audience questions today at First Baptist Church in Madison. I signed up the moment I learned of the event. I’ve read her book Pastrixas well as other things she’s written and I’ve followed her career over the last several years. I was interested to experience her version of the liturgy and to watch her engage with folks from Madison and the wider region.

It couldn’t have been more fun. She’s funny, honest, self-deprecating, and she packs a powerful punch as a preacher and as a theologian. She spoke truth concerning the context in which she works, the congregation she founded and served, and the difficulty of translating that experience to other contexts.

During the first question-answer session, she talked a lot about the larger cultural context, the loss of faith in traditional forms of authority and institutions, and about experience, which she argues is the primary source of authority in our context. Several times she reiterated that if something went against her (or others) experience, whether that thing came from tradition or scripture, she (and presumably most people in contemporary culture) would reject it.

Curiously, though I didn’t point it out, her discussion of scripture, tradition, and experience sounds very much like the “three-legged stool” of Anglicanism. I wondered both as I listened to her, and as I participated in the liturgy about the degree to which she privileges experience over scripture and tradition. In conversation after worship, she pointed out that the skeleton of the liturgy she used is ancient while the content is a product of the local context.

But for all this insistence on the importance of paying attention to contemporary experience, when it comes down to it, she’s quite orthodox theologically. In fact, her description of Luther’s theology of grace was the most cogent and compelling explanation of Luther I’ve heard in some thirty years. It took me back to my own encounter with Luther, the amazing power of God’s grace that I experienced as I read him for the first time, and made me wonder, just for a moment, how it is I’m an Episcopal priest (but that’s another story for another time).

As I listened to her and to the crowd in audience, I was surprised again by the persistence of the spiritual pain caused by the theory of substitutionary atonement. Bolz-Weber made the case that in the cross, we see God gathering up in Godself all of the suffering and evil in the world, including the evil and pain in our own hearts, even Godforsakenness, and bearing witness to the fact that God is present in the midst of the deepest pain and suffering in the world; that God will be present, forever, in human suffering.

And there was a moment of powerful pastoral presence, when in response to an audience member talking about personal sins for which she struggled to find forgiveness, Bolz-Weber simply leaned over the podium and pronounced the words of absolution, reminding us as she did that among the power Jesus gave his disciples was the power to forgive sins, something many Christians don’t do often enough.

A crowd of hundreds was in attendance. The overwhelming majority were Lutheran, with representation from all of the other mainline denominations, as well as a smattering of evangelicals. Like most gatherings of the sort in Madison, it was overwhelmingly white, although rather younger than most other religious gatherings I’ve attending. And by a substantial majority (especially in the morning), it was female.

All in all, it was an inspiring day. If Bolz-Weber and others like her are able to articulate the power of grace and the Good News of Jesus Christ in our context, whatever happens to the institutional churches, the love of Jesus will continue to transform lives and create transformative communities. Thanks be to God!

St. Thomas Aquinas, 1225-1274

Today is the feast day of St. Thomas Aquinas, one of the greatest and most important theologians in the History of Christianity. His biography is available here. This is the prayer he reportedly said every day before an image of Christ:

GRANT me, O merciful God, to desire eagerly, to investigate prudently, to acknowledge sincerely, and to fulfill perfectly those things that are pleasing to Thee, for the praise and glory of Thy holy Name.

 

O my God, order my life, and grant that I may know what Thou wilt have me to do; and grant that I may fulfill it as is fitting and profitable to my soul.

 

Grant me, O Lord my God, the grace that I may not falter either in prosperity or adversity. May I not be unduly lifted up by the one, nor unduly cast down by the other. Let me neither rejoice nor grieve at anything, save what either leads to Thee or leads away from Thee. Let me not desire to please anyone nor fear to displease anyone save only Thee.

 

Let all things transitory seem vile in my eyes, and all things eternal be dear to me. Let me tire of that joy which is without Thee and to desire nothing that is outside Thee. Let me find joy in the labor that is for Thee; and let all repose that is without Thee be tiresome to me.

 

Grant me, my God, the grace to direct my heart towards Thee, and with a firm purpose of amendment, to grieve continually my failures, together with a firm purpose of amendment.

 

O Lord my God, make me obedient without complaining, poor without despondency, chaste without stain, patient without grumbling, humble without pretense, cheerful without dissipation, mature without undue heaviness, quick-minded without levity, fearful of Thee without abjectness, truthful without duplicity, devoted to good works without presumption, ready to correct my neighbor without arrogance, and to edify him by word and example without hypocrisy.

 

Grant me, Lord God, a watchful heart which shall be distracted from Thee by no vain thoughts; give me a generous heart which shall not be drawn downward by any unworthy affection; give me an upright heart which shall not be led astray by any perverse intention; give me a stout heart which shall not be crushed by any hardship; give me a free heart which shall not be enslaved by passion

 

Bestow upon me, O Lord my God, an understanding that knows Thee, diligence in seeking Thee, wisdom in finding Thee, conversation pleasing to Thee, perseverance in faithfully waiting for Thee, and confidence in embracing Thee in the end. Grant that I may be chastised here by penance, that I may make good use of Thy gifts in this life by Thy grace, and that I may partake of Thy joys in the glory of heaven: Who livest and reignest, God, forever and ever. Amen.

Alice Goffman, On the Run: Racism and the oppressive police state

I had the opportunity to attend a lecture by Alice Goffman, Assistant Professor of Sociology at UW Madison, and the author of the acclaimed and controversial On the Run: Fugitive Life in an American CityI’ve not yet read the book but I’ve read a good bit about it and I was excited about the prospect of hearing her talk about her research.

Her talk focused on a single family, the Taylors. It was fascinating on so many levels but perhaps the most poignant piece of it for me was the family’s trajectory. They began as sharecroppers in South Georgia, moved to Philadelphia as part of the Great Migration in World War II when George was five. His father was a day laborer working on the docks shoveling coal. His mother was a servant to two white families in downtown Philly. Alice told us that it was the neighborhood where she herself grew up. George graduated from high school in 1959, joined the army, received an honorable discharge before Viet Nam, and went to work for the US Postal Service, where he stayed until his retirement.

With his good job, he was able to buy a three-bedroom house in what Goffman calls “the 6th Street” neighborhood. It was outside the traditional ghetto; he was one of the first African-Americans to purchase in the area but was followed by other middle class and professional blacks. Goffman doesn’t give us the precise chronology but she did tell us that things began to fall apart in the community and in the family in the 1980s. George was raising his daughter alone. In the 80s, she became a crack user and gave birth to three sons. It was the three sons on whose stories Goffman focused in her talk. In 2014, one was dead, one (who had spent almost all of his time between age 11 and 23 in the criminal justice system) had been out of prison for a year and a half; the youngest was now behind bars.

Think about that trajectory. In three generations, from Jim Crow and sharecropping, to the middle class, to the New Jim Crow. There may be all sorts of ways of interpreting the reasons for that trajectory, but it’s telling that at the moment African-Americans seemed poised to enter the mainstream of American economic and political life in the late sixties and seventies the war on drugs and crime began its relentless attack.

Time and again, Goffman reiterated that the neighborhood she was studying wasn’t one of the “hot spots.” It was still somewhat mixed economically. When she talked with the police, it wasn’t on their list of priorities; it was relatively quiet. Still, by 2002, there was a 9:00 pm curfew for young black men; there were video cameras on the streets. She listed the numbers of times she saw police helicopters overhead. She recounted the three SWAT team raids over a few nights at the Taylor house because one of the boys had fled an arrest on suspicion of possession of marijuana. She told of the first time the youngest son, Tim, was arrested, at age 11, on charges of being an accessory, while his older brother was stopped for driving a stolen car (it was his girlfriend’s and neither he nor she knew it was stolen).

Goffman compares the police involvement in the 6th street neighborhood to the oppressive totalitarian regimes of Eastern Europe under communism. It’s a sobering, depressing story. To her, the criminal justice system is an occupying power in African-American community.

After her talk, someone asked about schools. She had this to say: “In Philadelphia, schools are a dangerous place. The families that are successful in keeping their sons out of prison keep them out of public schools.”

Still, she is not without hope. There is a reform movement emerging. The drug war, she says, is over. It may be that we are reaching consensus as a society that the long-term project to incarcerate African-American males is coming to an end.

About Madison, she said this: Our city and county are unique in the extent of the exclusion of African-Americans and the extent of the disparities between black and white. Goffman is doing important work and I hope that she and her students will engage the situation here in Madison as well as larger American society and culture.

 

 

Thinking about the #CharlieHebdo murders

This is going to be an unpopular post. Like almost everyone else in the West (and in the Muslim world, too) I am shocked, saddened, and appalled by the cold-blooded murders of twelve French cartoonists and satirists. But there’s a deeper story here, one that doesn’t fit into the simplistic categories of “the clash of civilizations,” the “war on terror,” or other comfortable slogans.

First, there’s the instructive juxtaposition of an image I came across on Twitter this evening. Yesterday, a bomb exploded at a NAACP office in Colorado. Here’s how the media have treated these two events:

B6xhR67CUAAHkRq

To label an attack “terrorist” is to enter into a discourse that feeds a particular narrative.It also frees us from the responsibility of exploring the reasons for such acts, whether they lie in the immediate or the distant past.

After affirming the abhorrent nature of the attacks,  Richard Seymour points out some uncomfortable truths in The Jacobin:

The first point is that French President Francois Hollande declared this a “terrorist” attack very early on. Now, we don’t need to know any concrete details to understand the purpose of this. “Terrorism” is not a scientific term; it is inherently normative.

The uses of “terrorism” in such contexts are by now well understood. I suggested apropos the Woolwich killing that it functions as a narrative device, setting up a less-than-handful of people as a civilizational threat evoking stoic defense (of “British values,” “la république,” “the West,” etc). It justifies repressive and securitarian responses that tend to target Muslims as such, responses which in the United Kingdom chiefly come under the rubric of the government’s Prevent strategy.

The second is that there is already an enormous pressure, in this context, to defend Charlie Hebdo as a forceful exponent of “Western values,” or in some cases even as a brilliantly radical bastion of left-wing anti-clericalism.

Freddie DeBoer points out that questions of freedom of the press or of expression are “dead moral questions” that don’t need debating. However, he writes that there are questions that need to be explored, for example::

The question of the price that Muslims will pay for these attacks– that is a live question, the security and rights of the Muslim people is very much uncertain, indeed. If there is anything that this country has stood for in the last 15 years, it is its willingness to sacrifice anything to fight Muslim extremism, and in the process, innocent Muslims. We have invaded multiple Muslim countries, sent secret raids into far more, killed Muslims with drones and bombs, wiretapped Muslims at home and abroad, sent agents to infiltrate their mosques, thrown dozens of them into a prison camp without trial or judicial review, assassinated them without due process, tortured them, and spent billions of dollars and thousands of lives in doing so. Of all the things that you should fear your government will lose the resolve to do, fighting Muslim terrorists should be at the absolute bottom of your list. There is no function that our government has performed more enthusiastically for years. Can any credible person doubt our commitment to fighting Muslim terrorists, in 2015?

It’s really quite interesting to see the different way in which “terrorist” has been deployed in two events on two consecutive days. If the Colorado bombing had taken place at a synagogue or church and the suspect a Muslim, the label of “terrorist” would have been immediately and universally deployed. Because the suspect is a balding white man in his forties, he will likely be labelled an isolated, individual crackpot.

I am not veryy conversant with French culture and politics but I do know that it has a long history of aggressive secularism and anti-clericalism and that as a society it has struggled to incorporate in it immigrants from North Africa and elsewhere. Acts like the one today feed into the xenophobia and fascism of right-wing politicians.

Creating, preserving, and broadening civil society does not depend on knee-jerk reactions to abhorrent acts. It requires creating space for people to express their religious views, and practice their religious lives without fear of reprisal or penalty.

 

Preaching the Epiphany in the Twenty-First Century

Second, and more important, at this late date A.D. the church is hardly in the position of muscling the culture away from its calendars toward those of Christendom. Instead, we are in an urgently evangelistic and missional posture, continually negotiating a hearing, proclaiming the good news to a society no longer automatically interested in our pronouncements, under the terrible and exhilarating obligation of winning the right to be heard—for our faith, our convictions, our gospel, and our ways of marking time. In other words, our job is not to blow the whistle on the culture and put them in the penalty box until they learn how to count the Sundays to Lent. Our job, instead, is to walk that pathway ourselves, to move with Christ from Bethlehem to Jerusalem, and to announce with joy to all who will listen — even those who haven’t the foggiest notion of epiphany or transfiguration or baptism of the Lord, what good news and trustworthy promises are meant for them.

 

Tom Long (professor of preaching at Candler School of Theology) wrote this words in 2000. They are still true

The Light shines in all the dark places: A Sermon for the Feast of the Nativity

Merry Christmas!

What does it feel like to say that familiar greeting this year? Are you filled with Christmas spirit? Are you ready to enjoy the annual celebration with joy overflowing, get-togethers with friends and families? Are you full of Christmas cheer? Or does it all, in spite of every effort, seem like Christmas this year is a little darker, our hope and joy dimmed by a nation and a world that seems to be spiraling out of control in violence, environmental degradation, and fear. Continue reading

Incarnation: The Truth About God

willwillimon's avatarWill Willimon

We declare to you what was from the beginning, that we have heard, what we’ve seen with their eyes, what we have looked at in touched with our hands, concerning the word of life – this life was revealed, and we’ve seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the father and was revealed to us – we declare to you what we’ve seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the father  and with his son Jesus Christ.” (First John 1:1 – 3)

Martin Luther (in his Larger Catechism, 1529) said he felt sad for those who follow faiths other than Christianity.  Even though they might worship the one, true God, they had no way of knowing God’s attitude toward them. “They cannot be confident of his love and blessing,…” because…

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Nativity–John Donne

Nativity

Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-belov’d imprisonment,
There He hath made Himself to His intent
Weak enough, now into the world to come;
But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room?
Yet lay Him in this stall, and from the Orient,
Stars and wise men will travel to prevent
The effect of Herod’s jealous general doom.
Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith’s eyes, how He
Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie?
Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pitied by thee?
Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go,
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.

Strike up “Nearer my God, to Thee:” The Titanic (aka Episcopal Church) is sinking

We’re done rearranging deckchairs; it’s all hands overboard. TREC (the Task Force on Reimagining the Episcopal Church, or maybe commission, I can’t remember) has issued its final report, available here.

I skimmed some of it but my eyes soon glazed over, I have four sermons to write in the next week or so, plus a vestry meeting tonight, so I waited for Crusty Old Dean to weigh in. And weigh in he did. I’m grateful to him because he knows the Constitutions and Canons, Episcopal history, and has extensive experience in the wider church as a long-time staff member and now as a Seminary dean. If you feel you must read the TREC report, be sure to have Crusty’s commentary open in another window.

Well, I’ll admit, I started reading the thing, but then I got to page 2 and to this paragraph:

The movement always precedes the institution, and practice always precedes structure. For this reason, we believe the most important thing we can do together in this moment is
return to three basic practices that helped to animate the early Christian movement. We believe that, rather than an anxious focus on how to preserve our institution, a joyful focus on the basic practices of the movement will hold the real key for moving us into God’s future. As in the past, the new future of The Episcopal Church will emerge from a focus on adapting and renewing the movement’s basic practices in our own various local contexts while adapting the current structures to enable and even encourage this movement to catch on.
I don’t know where this distinction between “movement” and “institution” comes from but I remember the former President of the House of Deputies use it in a talk and finding it remarkable that someone as deeply connected to the institutional church would find it a useful way of explaining the process of reform in the church. (I guess it derives ultimately from Troeltsch and or Weber, but I’m eager to be educated).
What bothers me about this distinction is that it’s artificial and utopian. We can posit the existence of a “Jesus movement” but the only sources we have for it were sanctioned by the institution (The Gospel of Jesus’ Wife notwithstanding). Jesus and his followers existed within and alongside an institutional Judaism which they were trying to reform and we know about Jesus only because of the institution that emerged from his death and resurrection.  Movement and institution are inseparable.
Something Crusty wrote in his closing paragraphs got me thinking, however. As he bemoaned the failure of TREC to capture the historical moment, he began to prognosticate:
and in the 2020s and 2030s our churchwide structures will collapse on their own.   There’s going to be lots of collapse in the church, after all.  A number of seminaries, about half our congregations, and maybe 40% of our dioceses will eventually no longer be viable.  Our churchwide organization will do the same.  Those surviving Episcopalians doing the mission of the Gospel will come together and create something.  Like the Popes declaring themselves infallible as their temporal power ended in 1870, like Episcopalians creating a new church only when their old one was destroyed in the Revolution, we can only create a new order when the old one has passed away.
I’m not sure why he mentioned those two particular historical moments but I began to think about other historical crises to which the church had to respond. The first that came to mind was the Protestant Reformation. It took decades (almost thirty years) for the Roman Catholic Church to respond institutionally to the challenge of Luther and the other Protestants. And the response itself took considerable time (the Council of Trent met sporadically from 1545 to 1563). But in the long run, Roman Catholicism was stronger and more vibrant, more stable too, than it had been in the preceding centuries.
An example closer to home (at least for Anglicans) is the Evangelical Revival of the late 17th and 18th centuries. A “movement” attempted reform; some elements of it remained within the institutional church; others left to form their own institutions. There are many other historical examples–the Franciscans (and Dominicans) in the 12th century; Vatican II; even Pope Francis, although it’s far too soon, decades too soon, to render any judgment there.
I suppose the point I’m trying to make is that if one looks at the History of Christianity, the impetus for reform almost never comes from the institutional center. In fact, the center almost always resists the reform. Occasionally, it will attempt to coopt it (as Innocent IV did with Francis), but usually even that fails.
Like Crusty, I had some hopes for TREC. I should have known better. Like Crusty, I have no doubt that the institutional structures that we have known, loved, profited from, and railed against, will not survive the next half-century. But I’m also quite confident that in the absence of planetary death or the parousia, in fifty years there will be new structures and institutions that will be the Body of Christ and participate in the Missio Dei, and that in less than a century, there will be new cries for reform in saecula saeculorum.

Torture and the cross

Finally, today, the executive summary of the Senate’s torture report was released to the public. It’s available here.

I’ve not gathered up the courage or the stomach to read it but from what I’ve read, the CIA  used torture much more widely, indiscriminately, and ineffectively than previously reported. Andrew Sullivan’s liveblog makes for interesting reading as he includes commentary from tweeters and from voices on the left and right.

Of everything done by the US in the war on terror–the wars, the indiscriminate killing, the destruction of people’s lives, the lies, the assault on civil liberties–what has affected me most profoundly is the use of torture. To subject human beings to such pain and suffering in the hope of getting useful information is counter-intuitive. The report documents just how ineffective torture was in the war on terror. That many continue to defend it is mind-boggling.

In my last term as a college professor, I taught a course on the witch hunt in early modern Europe. We read a wide variety of sources including handbooks for witch hunters, the accounts of interrogations, and trial records. I remember a student asking as we discussed the case of one accused witch, who implicated her neighbors after being tortured, why anyone would believe the testimony of someone who had been tortured. The year was 2009. I reminded him and the rest of the class about the contemporary debate about torture. He got very quiet, very quickly.

My own scholarly research was on dissident religious groups in early modern Europe. I read trial records, interrogations, and the like of hundreds, perhaps thousands of individuals who were suspected of holding heterodox religious beliefs. Many of them were tortured. Some of them persisted in their beliefs, some of them denied them, many of them seemed to search for the words to say whatever they thought their interrogators wanted to hear, if for no other reason than to end their suffering.

The Enlightenment comes under attack for many things, but one of its great achievements was to bring some order and reason to the judicial process and to assert some very basic human rights. There was a time, not too long ago, when the community of nations condemned the use of torture. There was a time, not so long ago, when the US condemned torture. But now we make use of it and our President, our President!, seeks to suppress the evidence of torture and refuses to bring those who perpetrated these acts to account.

Perhaps most offensive to me is the fact that many, perhaps most American Christians, seem not to care that the US has used torture. We worship a God who became human and dwelt among us, a God who was crucified, a form of capital punishment that is essentially execution by torture. We Episcopalians promise at our own baptisms, and at every baptismal service we attend, “to respect the dignity of every human person.”

By definition and practice, torture denies human dignity. Reading accounts of “rectal feeding” is gruesome evidence of what happens when interrogators no longer see the people they are questioning as human.

Perhaps we Christians would begin to understand what it’s all about if we began to use a waterboard as the symbol of our faith instead of the cross