Wrestling for Jesus

I watched this documentary last night, having missed it when it played the Wisconsin Filmfest earlier this year. It’s not a great film, but it does offer a window into a particular subculture–the white working class of South Carolina. It’s also somewhat poignant, as the focus on T-Money, who started the organization “Wrestling for Jesus” after the suicide of his father. He takes his ring around to small towns in SC and a handful of guys do the moves. After the show is over, a preacher comes out for the altar call. There are rarely more than 100 people in attendance and when the camera scans their faces during the action, they often look disinterested or bored, except for the gray-haired woman who is caught shouting “Kill him!”

There is also tragedy, when the young man who was voted “most Christ-like” suffers a debilitating neck injury, and a biker-turned Jesus wrestler is diagnosed with cancer. T-Money himself has marital difficulties and eventually divorces. The “ministry” disbands, but the film ends with T-Money trying to put a new life together in a new relationship.

My closest brush with the culture of “semi-pro” wrestling in South Carolina was the American Coliseum in Spartanburg which I regularly drove past. Its signs promised excitement, was “not for boring people” and for several months advertised “twin midget wrestling.” One can only speculate

Gordon Kaufman

I learned yesterday of the death of Gordon Kaufman, Professor of Theology for many years at Harvard Divinity School. He was 86. Gordon was my teacher, occasionally my pastor at the Mennonite Congregation of Boston, and over time, became a friend. We were both Mennonites although we came from different branches of the Mennonite family and it is a testimony to his commitment to the Mennonite tradition that he remained one until his death.

He was a towering presence at HDS in the 1980s. His booming voice and incisive intelligence were intimidating. The first class I took with him was “Constructing the Concept of God” that worked out some of the details in his The Theological Imagination. Already by that point, he had become quite insistent that Christian theology had to remake itself in the face of the scientific worldview and jettison concepts and modes of thinking that no longer made sense in the twentieth century. His Essay on Theological Method remains an insightful discussion of how to do theology and the reality that theological thinking is a human enterprise. He and I had several lengthy discussions about the continuing importance of traditional symbolism and language, and the possibility that such language might remain lifegiving even in a very different historical context.

Gordon was one of the best teachers I ever had. His command of a seminar room was masterful. He could take a barely adequate student paper that introduced the material at hand, and use it create a discussion that dealt with the major points of the reading at hand, as well as help students learn to ask better questions. I am still amazed at his ability to generate movement in a two-hour seminar session. Whatever analytical skills I have were honed in his classes and by his responses to my writing.

It was also moving to join him on Sunday evenings for worship. He was one of the founders in the 1960s of the Mennonite Congregation of Boston, to which I belonged in the 1980s. He remained the theologian there, but he was also comfortable being with somewhat more “typical” Mennonites, families, singles, college and graduate students. One of my fondest memories is of a service in the late 1980s. The Society for Christian Ethics was meeting in Boston that weekend, and John Howard Yoder surprised us by visiting our service. The worship leader had planned some sort of song that including holding hands and walking around in a circle. Seeing Yoder and Kaufman together in that way was both amusing and a testimony to the power of grace.

We saw Gordon over the years when we returned to Boston, and at the occasional meeting of the American Academy of Religion. Our last meeting was a lovely breakfast we shared one morning when Gordon was the plenary speaker at the Southeastern Academy of Religion meeting. We spent time catching up; he remained genuinely interested in our life journeys. I had always hoped to have another such conversation with him one day. Alas, that is not to be.

Mustard Seeds, Leaven, and paint colors: A Homily for the 6th Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 12, Year A

July 24, 2011

Corrie and I are trying to choose paint colors for our house. We’ve been in the house for almost a year now, so it’s not like we’re acting impulsively. Of course, the colors that are on the walls right now are quite attractive, and have become familiar to us. But we want something different. Just what we want, we aren’t quite sure. It’s been a long process. Over Christmas, I put a few patches of color here and there, then a few months later, another set of options were added. A couple of weeks ago, I put a coat of primer over all of the old paint samples, and we’ve started anew. It’s getting rather urgent, because I’m starting two weeks of vacation tomorrow and the plan was that I spend much of the time painting. The problem we’re having is that we find it hard to imagine just what this or that room will look like in this or that color. We ask ourselves, is that what we really want?

In a way, our struggle with paint colors is not unlike much of life. We live in patterns and routines that we follow for no apparent reason except that they are comfortable and we can’t imagine what it might be like to live in a different way. It’s only when something big shakes us out of those old patterns that we see the possibility of something new, although often that possibility is quite frightening, brought on by illness, death of a loved, loss of a job, or something else of that magnitude. It’s rare that we will take such leaps into the unknown, into an imagined future without such prodding. The comfortable, the familiar, is just too easy, too normal. Continue reading

Odd Wisconsin

Is the title of ongoing changing exhibit at the Wisconsin Historical Museum (just a few doors up from Grace Church). We’re coming up on the second anniversary of our arrival in Badgerland and some things about Wisconsin remain strange. Many of those oddities have to do with food. We’ve heard mention of the fact that for many years it was illegal to sell margarine in the state and never quite believed it. But here’s an article reflecting back on that piece of history. And now there’s a movie about it!

On another Wisconsin food matter–Andrew Sullivan had several threads about Limburger cheese this week. The only remaining manufacturer is in Monroe Wisconsin. I knew the reputation and was hesitant when selecting my lunch at the Paoli Bread and Brathaus but decided to take a chance and ordered the Stinky Bratburger. Here’s a picture:

The burger itself was delicious and the cheese (which I don’t recall having ever tasted) remarkably complex and not all that aromatic, certainly nothing like the ripe  (Alsatian) muensters I’m fond of.

Proof that Jesus is a Capitalist!

He appeared on a Walmart receipt! In Traveler’s Rest, SC, no less (for those unfamiliar with SC, TR is just a few miles from Furman University and St. James Episcopal Church). I would make a crack about South Carolina now, but I’m disappointed that none of my Greenville friends shared this with the world and I had to learn about it from the Guardian. They provide a lovely slideshow of other appearances of Jesus; apparently he prefers appearing on toast.

 

The end of denominations?

Fred Schmidt wrote a provocative essay entitled “The Baby and the Denominational Bathwater” in which he explored the important sociological reality that denominations are becoming less important while arguing that each denomination offers a unique tradition and context that might retain significance. He writes:

But here’s the problem: If denominations are dispensable, then why not disband them entirely and create a pan-Protestant reality like the one the early architects of the ecumenical movement envisioned? Or, better yet, if the Protestant confessions of faith mean that little, then why not simply return to the Catholic Church? After all, Benedict is waiting . . .

The answer, I think, is that we can’t and shouldn’t because there is a baby in the bureaucratic bathwater. That baby is the tradition, beliefs, and experiences that gave our respective denominations birth in the first place. Other than a distaste for yet more hierarchy, an all-male priesthood, and a doctrinal position or two, there really isn’t a reason not to go back to the Catholic Church—unless those confessions of faith really matter.

His words are important to remember even in this time of ecumenism and might help us understand the sorts of conflicts that can break out, even here in Madison. Episcopalians and Lutherans, in spite of “Called to Common Mission” have very different histories and traditions, and for all that we share, there is a great deal we don’t understand about each other (or if we understand, we disagree sharply with the direction the other tradition has developed).

At times, such differences among denominations may seem as little more than quaint artifacts, but often such impressions change when conflicts arise.

We might even be bemused by denominational differences, as an essayist at Killing the Buddha was when his college-bound daughter received the religious affiliation survey from the university she will be attending this fall. Among the options one might check: Catholic/Episcopalian, or Lutheran/Episcopalian. She comments:

I have so many questions about this list, but the first that springs to mind is, “How can one person be a Catholic and an Episcopalian at the same time? That’s like Coke and Pepsi being in the same can, but distinctly separate. Unless, of course, you are part of the Anglican migration and attending an Anglican-rite Roman church, but somehow that’s not what I think they had in mind.” And I wonder what I’d check off if I had to fill it out for myself—I don’t think they have the right category for me, which is frequently a problem I encounter and no big surprise. I showed this to my daughter, whom I thought still identified as a Catholic/Buddhist. Nope: she’s joined the great Non-Denominational movement. They grow up so fast. Sigh.

 I remember when I arrived at Harvard Divinity School and had to fill out a similar survey and discovered, after four years at a Mennonite College, and in spite of the presence of Mennonites among both faculty and students, that Mennonite wasn’t an option. Since then, I’ve swum the Thames and as a priest deal with people almost every day who are seeking a church home or may have found one in the Episcopal Church decades ago, but have no interest in the larger institutional connection. Still, they find our particular form of faith and worship of great meaning to them, at least at this point in their spiritual journeys. My role is not to try to sell the denomination to them; rather, it is to help them find life in our life, our mission, and in our tradition. And that is the bathwater about which Fr. Schmidt is speaking. When our tradition is no longer lifegiving, then it, along with all of our denominational structures, deserve to die.

 

Michele Bachmann and Religion

Sarah Posner says “it’s complicated” and that the media can’t get it right. In a post at Religion Dispatches, Posner points out the multiple influences on Bachmann’s worldview, including the Wisconsin Synod denomination to which she used to belong. But there are many more influences:

But Bachmann is more of a mishmash: a Lutheran moved by Francis Schaeffer to get involved in conservative politics, who attended a law school founded by a Pentecostal and a Christian Reconstructionist; an alumna of the “Christian worldview” education that teaches that Christianity is on a collision course with other “worldviews,” including secularism, Islam, and post-modernism; an anti-public school activist who homeschooled her own children; an anti-gay rights activist; and now, a crusader against the “tyranny” of “big government” and “socialism.” She’s a product of all of those strands of church, political activism, and “worldview” training; she’s like a crucible of the religious right zeitgeist. And that’s why an ex-Lutheran-turned-we’re-not-sure-what can speak at an Assemblies of God church while running for president and wow the people in the pews. Or not. Because it’s complicated.

Posner points out how the “progressive” media gets her wrong, from Think Progress, to Salon, to Mother Jones.

The Fourfold Franciscan Blessing

May God bless you with a restless discomfort about easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships, so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart.

May God bless you with holy anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may tirelessly work for justice, freedom, and peace among all people.

May God bless you with the gift of tears to shed with those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy.

May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you really can make a difference in this world, so that you are able, with God’s grace, to do what others claim cannot be done.

h/t Richard Beck

Jacob was a good Christian man–not! A Sermon for Proper 11, Year A

July 17, 2011

I have college professor friends who amuse themselves and us by keeping track of the most outrageous things students write on essay papers and exams. I never did such things, in large part, because writing such things down took time away from grading. So only a few such statements stand out in my fifteen years of teaching. And perhaps the most outrageous, absolutely, incorrect things I ever read was the opening sentence of an essay exam, “Jacob was a good Christian man.” Continue reading