Your Business, and Why I Stick My Nose into It

You may have noticed from my social media involvement that I seek dialogue with those of you whose beliefs differ from mine. That is, I stick my nose into your business. I pray that I do so in a way that is respectful of your human personhood, even when I question the conclusions you reach or even the evidence you cite in support of your conclusions.

I do this for several reasons.

One reason is intellectual curiosity. I enjoy using my brain. Therefore, statements of belief especially pique my interest. Over the past half-century, I have come to some very definite conclusions (“dogmatic beliefs”) about certain things. About others, I am still weighing evidence, seeking to arrive at an actionable conclusion (i.e., I want to understand what the true, right, and good position is so that I can appropriately provide support, correction, and/or opposition to other positions on the subject). So, when I see the conclusions you share, I am provoked to thought on those issues and seek to engage in dialogue about them. I like the mental exercise of doing that.

Another reason for my attempts at dialogue is the joy of connection and understanding, which can result in amazing revelations. I am blessed, at times, to read and hear explanations of the logic, ethics, and/or morality that lead you to the position(s) you hold. Some of you have blessed me further by discussing with me the logic, ethics, and/or morality that leads me to the position(s) I hold. This helps deepen my understanding, not just of you and others, but of myself as well.

But the primary reason I engage in these discussions is my desire to live with integrity as a follower of Jesus Christ. (Yes, I said that. But I hope you read this last little part, too.)

I see in Jesus a calling to pursue fellowship. As expressed in I John 1:1-4, that fellowship centers on two relationships. First is the fellowship of a relationship with God through Christ, which is enhanced by the second fellowship in our relationships as the “one another” of “Christ’s body,” the Church. But there is a third fellowship, too. The universal claim of Jesus Christ also points Christians to a solidarity with all other human persons. This is found in His emphasis that we are all created to bear the image and likeness of one God, eternally existing in three Persons. As I explained above, that third fellowship regularly blesses me as well.

How is this a matter of integrity for me? My belief should find expression in what I say and do. Admittedly, sticking my nose into your business benefits me. It also fulfills a part of what I believe God is continuously building me to be, and part of what I believe Christ calls all His followers to do in representing Him authentically, transparently, and vulnerably. (More about that later.)

Is my integrity consistent on this point? No. Logic, ethics, and morality are often submerged under a deluge of emotion. My initial reaction to some issues (some of which you and I agree on) “hits a nerve.” I have been known to write impassioned responses for which “delete” would have been a more appropriate click than “send” or “post.” Therefore, I have some repenting to do. Especially since I’ve already kept you for 67 words more than I intended for this post. More later.

“Prioritize Public Schools!” – How Martin Niemöller would advise Bertrand Russell’s chicken.

"Why are they feeding us this?"

I want to tell you a different kind of chicken joke, followed by a more traditional chicken joke.

Joke the First

The first chicken joke expands on an analogy drawn by the philosopher Bertrand Russell. In chapter six of The Problems of Philosophy he discusses inductive reasoning—the idea that future events will continue a pattern we have observed in the past.

For example, because the sun has appeared each of the past 20,000+ mornings, I assume that it will appear yet again tomorrow. But however sure I am of that fact, Russell points out that there are limitations, even tragic limitations to my assumptions.

Bertrand Russell laughing at some joke or other.

To show these limitations he offers the observations of a particular chicken—about which I am about to make a rather gruesome joke, with apologies and the appropriate trigger-warnings to my chicken-raising sister, Dr. Rebecca Linger.

Our friend the chicken knows two things to be universally true. First, that every morning, the farmer appears and scatters feed before the assembled chickens. Second, that from time to time the farmer also appears again in the late afternoon and, from among the assembled chickens, she selects one, chops off its head, and eventually consumes its lifeless body.

But here is where our chicken friend’s inductive reasoning fails, according the Russell. The chicken’s observation each day of her life has been this: the farmer always selects some other chicken besides me. That has been true. And it will continue to be true…until the day on which it is no longer true.

Bertrand Russell’s chicken could use some advice from Pastor Martin Niemöller.

Niemöller was arrested in 1937 and held by Nazi officials in a series of prisons and concentration camps until 1945. Nevertheless, he is often criticized for having been slow to recognize the dangers posed to some of his fellow-citizens, then to his country, to the rest of Europe and, eventually, the nations engulfed in World War II. Yet, in retrospect, The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum prominently quotes this version of his famous poem:

            First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

                        Because I was not a Socialist.

            Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—

                        Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

            Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—

                        Because I was not a Jew.

            Then they came for me—

                        and there was no one left to speak for me.

Now that you know these things, let me tell you the joke.

What would Martin Niemöller say to Bertrand Russell’s chicken? “Ask yourself, ‘How many chickens does the farmer have left before she gets to you?’”

Why Joke the First matters:

Do we find this first joke funny? Probably not. And if not, what does that say about who and where we are in the chicken’s story?

Martin Niemoller, laughing,
probably at some other joke.

For Russell (and Niemöller), the joke is clearly on the chicken (and Niemöller)—fat and happy until the hatchet falls. Russell’s chicken and Niemöller’s advice combine to represent a mindset I am observing among the opponents of public education, primarily in the immediate context of our local community. (A similar attack is being mounted at the highest levels of our federal government, and the publicity surrounding those efforts certainly emboldens the efforts here. But so long as public education remains largely controlled by local school boards, I intend to focus on the children of the Fall River Joint Unified School District.)

Why I Am This Passionate:

Let me digress for a moment to make full disclosure of my passions in this matter.

My family has been involved in public education since long before my birth. I have been involved as a volunteer and donor in many aspects of public education throughout my life. I am married to a public school teacher. I count many public school teachers among my friends. Even so, my wife and I considered carefully the expectations of some within our faith tradition that we would be educating our children in private, Christian institutions, if not homeschooling them. I have frequently considered what have been offered as the “options” and “alternatives” to public schools. These “choices” are routinely offered in opposition to perceived (and, I admit, actual) failings in our public schools. But after more than three decades of involvement in this dialogue, my hackles are raised by every advocate for homeschooling, every “alternative educational opportunity” that is offered, and even the ignorant denial of truancy’s detrimental effects on our children—both the individual truant and those children whose educational resources are diminished as a result of these others’ absence. (Schools are paid on the basis of their average daily attendance. Each child’s every absence literally costs the school money that otherwise would be invested in local public education.)

So, as some recommend that we further diminish the enrollment of our public schools, and with that lower enrollment comes the lower funding for even the most essential elements of education, I object and will oppose their efforts. They may be sufficiently funded and organized, and possibly even competent to focus on their own family to the exclusion of others’. But on behalf of those outside the small number who might reap better benefits from others’ costs, I would ask that we instead apply Niemoller’s lesson. Ask yourself, “How many more students can be subtracted from our public schools before there are not enough resources available to educate those who remain?”

Our past observations, that every day of our lives there has been public education, do not support the assumption that, no matter what we do to damage it, there will always be public education. In fact, there has not always been public education. In many places, there currently is not public education. But I am not only asking that we consider the survival of public education. I am asking that we turn our attentions away from the options and alternatives that diminish the education received by the majority of our community’s children. Instead, let us turn toward the improvements and support, or at least encouragements deserved by those whose lives are committed to providing the best possible public schools we can.

Tim Madigan, St John Fisher College

Joke the Second

Tim Madigan of St. John Fisher College wrote “Mr. Russell’s Chicken: A New Symbol for Philosophy” for The Bertrand Russell Society Bulletin. After considering various other philosophers’ probable responses, Madigan imagines that Dr. Russell is asked the most famous of chicken-joke questions. I am choosing to clean up the language for my audience. (Who knew that philosophers were allowed to cuss?!) But according to Madigan, to the question, “Why did the chicken cross the road?” Russell would answer, “Because he finally understood induction, and got…away from the farmer!”

There is a reason that we chickens get to make decisions, locally and directly, about how we want to educate our children…together. As a community, do we need to invest in one another’s children in order to enhance our public schools? Yes, of course. But I would take it a step further.

Special Bonus: Joke the Third

Even those of us who have no school-aged children need to recognize the benefits we all receive by means of our public education system, especially through our local public schools. More than merely recognizing those benefits, we need to invest ourselves in making our schools the best they can possibly be. This means volunteering, donating, and fund-raising. But it also means supporting and encouraging those who chose a career in public education.

"Who built this road across my path?"

That decision to be professional educators means that they receive far lesser returns than others would, given the same investment in college and graduate school education. It has been said that no sane person enters a career in public education with expectations of lucrative salaries. Some teachers respond to that statement with this joke: “No sane person enters a career in public education. Period.” The fact is, sadly, that some have been so wounded in the opposition’s constant attacks on public education that their initial passion is a distant memory. Yet even for the most tired, jaded, and discouraged of my acquaintances, there clearly remains a love for and devotion to the children they serve. These educators deserve our support and encouragement. These children deserve our involvement and assistance.

Let’s Try This:

Rather than imagining the alternatives and options (which some of us may, in fact, be sufficiently privileged to pursue), what if we imagined—and acted upon—a vision of what our public schools could be, if we the public—fellow members of our local community—were to invest ourselves in all our community’s children?

An Image Problem or an Essence Problem: What is wrong with us Christians? – Part Three, Why I Am an Evangelical – and Why I Am Often Reluctant to Say So

Paul Louis Metzger

As part of our doctoral studies at Multnomah Biblical Seminary, we have been intensely exploring The Beatitudes, the statements of blessing Jesus pronounced at the very beginning of The Sermon on the Mount in the fifth through seventh chapters of Matthew’s gospel. To say they are considered to be counter-intuitive would be an understatement. But for some of us, certain ones seem to make more sense, to reflect our experience, or to explain our perceptions more resonantly than others. As a certified Thanatologist (Thus being “Death Pastor,” studying, teaching and counseling in death, dying, bereavement, grief and mourning.), I get the “blessed are those who mourn,” since I often work with those who have been told to suppress any expressions of grief following their loss. Being allowed to openly mourn would be a great blessing for many of us.

But Jesus starts with what seems to me like a direct contradiction. Being blessed suggests receiving spiritual equity of some kind. So, being “poor in spirit” would be involve a very brief interlude of “spiritual poverty” before a blessing replenished the account. In discussing this Beatitude, Paul Louis Metzger contrasts our tendency in the 21^st Century North American Church “‘can do anything’ attitude” that embodies a “sense of optimism and an unconquerable spirit.” I share Dr. Metzger’s perception. I regularly face the frustrations serving those whose spiritual arrogance deludes them into selectively proof-texting from scripture and drawing from multiple, conflicting theologies in order to support whatever beliefs and behaviors they seek to rationalize.

Marvin Lee Aday
(aka Meat Loaf)

It is possible, however, that I so readily recognize their pride because of my own sense of spiritual poverty. In hopes of helping you to understand my struggles in this area, let me share a few things that resonate with me.

One of them is a song, “Objects in the Rearview Mirror,” by Jim Steinman. In it, the performer Meat Loaf (originally Marvin Lee Aday) sings of those memories that reach out at us from our past. Of a tragically killed High School friend: “There are times I think I see him peeling out of the dark; I think he’s right behind me now and he’s gaining ground.” Of his “dangerous and drunk and defeated” abusive father: “And though the nightmares should be over, some of the terrors are still intact; I’ll hear that ugly, coarse and violent voice, and then he grabs me from behind and then he pulls me back.”

Mark Hall of Casting Crowns

Another, more recent song written by Mark Hall and Bernie Herms and recorded by Casting Crowns is entitled “East to West.” Contemplating how “the chains of yesterday surround me,” the lyrics haunt me every time the chorus proclaims, “I can’t bear to see the man I’ve been come rising up in me again,” which only reinforces my frequent feeling that “I’m just one mistake away from You leaving me this way.”

Then, just last week, I read a film review by the late Roger Ebert in which he discusses the genre “film noir” and writes, “The noir hero is never good, just kidding himself, living in ignorance of his dark side until events demonstrate it to him.” That is my fear. And it is two-fold.

The late Roger Ebert

One way that my fear of my “dark side” manifests itself is in the potential for sudden, unanticipated temptation. God promises a way of escape so that I can endure any temptation (I Corinthians 10:13), but I also know that I have made impulsive decisions before. I am not immune to the excuse, “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.” And although I am aware of many areas in which temptations of my past try to use the long-abandoned tracks, I occasionally find myself drawn to the bright light of what I know from sad experience to be the same oncoming train.

"Misty, water-colored memories..."
of what I fear may be "The Way I Still Am"

But here is another “dark side” where the manifestations seem much more frequent and severe. And the fact that I don’t see them in myself worries me greatly. As I’ve been contemplating Jared Champion’s blog post (here’s the link again), I’ve acknowledged that there is much in Evangelicalism that does exhibit a “message of anger, intolerance, and fear.” My greatest concern, however, is not that I might be found guilty by association with others claiming to be Evangelicals. (That is, of course, something I’m used to experiencing. But similar issues would apply to whatever label or category might apply to me.) What I fear most is that I remain oblivious to stereotypes, prejudices and preferences that color my devotion to God, my study of scripture and my service of others (which I am careful to note is to be Christ’s service in and through me toward others—II Corinthians 4:5).

And yet, I cannot help but see that I am being transformed
more and more each day by the One on Whom I choose
to fix my gaze.

But to conclude this episode in my contemplations, I do need to clarify for some that I am an Evangelical. Whatever that term may mean to others, and whomever may misappropriate the term for their own socio-economic, political, or other uses, the definitions of Evangelical apply to me. I might choose other words in some cases. And I definitely believe far more than what is stated in the shorter versions. But I do understand that they must often be minimalist in order to be inclusive of all Evangelicals. If you’re interested in specific details of what the term means, perhaps the most comprehensive is that of The Lausanne Movement, and among the shortest is that of the National Association of Evangelicals.

Here's hoping that you, too, may see the King.

An upcoming teaching series called “Stumpers” will provide an opportunity for those attending Adult Bible Study at The Glenburn Community Church to inquire about my stance on the Trinity, Jesus Christ, the Holy Bible, the Atonement, the Holy Spirit, the Afterlife, and the Unity of The Church. If you’re not within a Sunday’s drive to the heart of the Fall River Valley, please feel free to ask about any of those issues, or others, in the comment section below.

But my hope is that more will ask about how it is that an Evangelical who believes in the exclusivity of the gospel of Jesus Christ is able to reconcile the inclusivity of doing theology-in-community, much less engaging in community-service ministry. If someone asks, there’s probably a blog-post to be said about that as well.

An Image Problem or an Essence Problem: What is wrong with us Christians? – Part Two, An Evangelical’s Admission to Anger, Intolerance and Fear…Primarily toward Evangelicals

This is the simplest, easiest, and most problematic
way of looking at Christian unity and diversity. We're all
playing, but usually against each other.

Following up further on Dr. Jared Champion’s first post in his new blog (you can find it here), I want to explore his perception (which I share) that the Evangelicals he refers to as “mainstream Christianity” exhibit a “message of anger, intolerance, and fear,” in contrast to progressive Christians’ “patient grace, unwavering love, and critical engagement.” As a doctoral student in Cross-Cultural Engagement, I might object slightly to the mutual exclusivity of the dichotomy he poses. But I am too much in agreement to do so. Additionally, I recognize too much of one and too little of the other in myself.

In my confrontation of the anger, intolerance and fear too prevalent among Christians, I grow impatient and can fail to be gracious toward my fellow Evangelicals. My love does waver when I must wearily persist in pointing to Jesus’ pairing of both the great commandment (i.e., love for God and love for others is stated as a single commandment – Matthew 22:36-40 – “the second is like it,” in the sense of being of the same character and substance as the first) and the great commission (Matthew 28:18-20 – in which the result is to be that others follow that single commandment).

Here is what Christianity begins to look like when we begin
to recognize the diversity of backgrounds, traditions, dogma
and ritual among our brothers and sisters.

As much as I want to critically engage anti-intellectual demagogues among my own tribe (I am an Evangelical, after all), I can barely pretend to tolerate the proof-texting and cherry-picking and socio-economic, cultural, and political filtering of scripture by those who seek justification for the oppression and exploitation of other human persons (not to mention the rest of God’s creation). Further, I do fear that we, meaning mainstream, Evangelical Christians, often obscure the message of Jesus, whether in passages anticipating the Messiah yet to come (the Old Testament), or the Messiah who came (as told in the New Testament).

The message of Jesus—this gospel, the good news—was first proclaimed, according to Genesis 3, in the Garden of Eden, and is the consistent message of scripture up to and including the final judgments and eternal state described in the last chapters of Revelation. My anger, intolerance and fear, then, are directed primarily at those who claim to be Bible teachers who teach only “how the Bible supports our beliefs.”

To me, this is the primary reason I have such difficulty in accepting
the diversity among Christians, even as I claim to seek unity
among the congregations and denominations in the body of Christ.

I may be projecting my own perspective onto Dr. Champion’s thoughts. But I see him offering a confrontation of both progressive and Evangelical Christians regarding one of very few issues in which they would agree. My experience is that both progressive and fundamentalist Christians discourage a robust engagement with the text of the Holy Bible. For progressives, the fear seems to be that we will emulate parts of the scripture that are extraneous, or even contradictory to what we perceive to be the core message of Jesus. For fundamentalists, the fear seems to be that we will emulate parts of the core message of Jesus that, in their theology, are only applicable when fulfilled after the end of history.

Progressives seem afraid to find that the scriptures are more complex than we’d prefer. This would suggest that we are responsible for more than simply loving others in whatever way we choose to define love, refusing to acknowledge that our definition of love is often limited in service of our own selfishness, given our fallen human nature. In contrast, Fundamentalists seem afraid that we’ll find the scriptures are more comprehensive than the proof-text memorizations that support “what we all know the Bible says.” Were we to acknowledge that God’s love applies more broadly than we allow, our redaction of the text, omitting so much that disagrees with our preconceptions, would confront the service of our selfishness as well.

Multiply the complexity of this image by something like BILLIONS of
times, and you might have some parallel to how God sees The Church.

The solution for both camps: study the scriptures, acknowledge the fullness of Jesus’ message, and recognize our reluctance to either narrow our focus or broaden our love as rooted in our own self-protection, self-provision, and self-ishness—all of which stem from a lack of trust in the benevolence of God’s sovereign justice, mercy, and grace.

But returning to answer Dr. Champion’s primary concern, the public relations crisis facing Jesus’ followers (whatever banner they may camp under), I would suggest that popularity has never been Jesus’ concern. Still, though, when the public relations crisis results from misrepresenting the good news He lived and died and rose again to bring us…that is what we should work toward fixing!

Defining Bereavement, Grief, and Mourning…and the Blessings Therein.

Actually, I'm rethinking my epitaph.
It might read instead: "This machine is
temporarily out of order."

Most North Americans, in my experience, use the words Bereavement, Grief, and Mourning interchangeably. But some of us regularly discuss the experience of loss, its effects, and the means of processing its intrusion and integration into our lives. For specialists in Hospice and other fields like death education and grief counseling, there are important distinctions among these terms. I think that you may find these distinctions helpful, too.

Bereavement = having experienced a significant loss. Whether the life of a cherished loved one, a position of employment, a marriage, a child’s affections, or any other loss, being “bereaved” simply means, “I had this; now it’s gone.”

Grief = our reaction to bereavement. When we significantly value anything (whether positively or negatively), losing it upsets our sense of balance, order, and/or identity. The various elements of these reactions have been traditionally labeled within five categories. “Denial” is that buffer that allows us to process the loss in “bite-sized pieces.” “Anger” may be merely irritability for some, yet overwhelming rage for others, independent of what some might see as the “severity” of the loss experienced. “Bargaining” is our attempt to establish some argument or action that will change the reality of having experienced the loss. “Depression” often results when our mental, emotional, and physical energies have been nearly exhausted by the intensity, the hard work, of these reactions. “Acceptance” is that fluctuating state in which, I would hope, we are able to integrate the valued existence, of whatever we’ve lost, alongside the loss, of whatever existence we previously valued.

Mourning = our proactive response to grief. Most of us process our grief organically, independently, and successfully. Even when we find our way intuitively, though, we generally discover particular techniques that are especially helpful to us, and we practice them repeatedly as we “effectively mourn” the “authentic grief” that results from a “significant loss.” Some of us have specialized in discovering and developing as many of these methods as we can, and are available to help you when you feel “stuck” at some point, or find that some of your reactions are troubling and/or persisting. (If you find that you would like a referral for a grief counselor in your area, please send me an email at deathpastor@frontier.com.)

In addition to discussing death, dying, bereavement, grief and mourning, of course, as “Death Pastor” I also get the opportunity to discuss scripture, theology, and spiritual care just as regularly. In my tradition, as a theologically-conservative Christian, there is an assumption that the answer to every question is supposed to be “Jesus.” (A popular joke offers a Sunday School teacher asking, “I’m a furry gray creature with a bushy tail who lives in a tree. What am I?” After repeating the question twice and getting no response, he directs it toward his most promising student. She replies, “I know the answer is supposed to be Jesus, but it sure sounds like a squirrel to me.”) But as much as we might imagine that Jesus provides direct, even simplistic answers to all of life’s problems, when we actually read what He says, we find that He distinctly complicates our lives.

For example, Jesus says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4) In my context, I hear that as “Some of us more openly express and process the grief we feel over having experienced a significant loss. When we do so, we invite the compassionate response of those around us to provide whatever comfort they may have to offer.” Again, in my culture, that differentiation makes perfect sense. Many of us choose not to openly express and process the grief we feel. We do not openly mourn. (In fact, too few of us actually mourn privately, either. We follow the usual prescriptions to “get over it and get on with life,” to “be strong for the kids,” or simply to “get a grip.”)

In the testimonies of Jesus’ life and followers, though, there are several words with similar ranges of meaning to our “bereavement, grief, and mourning.” Yet Jesus chooses a word that incorporates all three elements: the experience of loss, the effects of that experience, and the expression of those effects. If I may take liberties to translate one word with three, “Blessed are the bereaved, grieving, and mourning.” Culturally, in what I read of first-century Palestine, there was no need for such careful delineation as I have to practice today. If you lost something, and especially a loved one, then you reacted to that loss and expressed it openly. This “mourning” of which Jesus is speaking is often contrasted with joy, happiness, and blessing. It is seen openly, and recognized, and attracts comforters…or at least fellow-mourners, even professionals who would weep and wail alongside the family and friends—but that’s another discussion for another time.

Are we willing to name our reality?

Where Jesus upsets His culture and mine is in saying “Blessed are those who mourn.” He does not say, “Those who mourn will receive a blessing by being comforted.” We are blessed while we are bereaved, grieving, and mourning. It is not that we will be comforted at some point in the future, but that we shall be comforted in the midst of, and as a part of the reality of our bereavement, grieving, and mourning. That’s not what we may want to hear. It may be very different from what we seek to provide to others, compassionately desiring to comfort them. But the complications Jesus causes are many and varied. This is just one of nine blessings Jesus describes in what are called “The Beatitudes.” (Matthew 5:3-12)

In The Beatitudes, Jesus speaks to His disciples about a realm of existence, the kingdom of God, that seems entirely upside-down to them. The poor, the mourning, the gently, the pure, the peacemakers, the persecuted…these are the marginalized, oppressed and exploited, those who many see as sub-human. Hardly blessed, at least in our eyes. But Jesus says they are blessed. Not will be, not have been, but are blessed. How? Because they recognize the reality to which so many others have blinded themselves.

The world lives in the midst of an incalculable loss. Every day, every life experiences the longing for that which we were created to be and to enjoy. The environment, the economy, our relationships, and our own minds and bodies—these and so many other evidences remind us that something is not quite right. In fact, it is far from being merely satisfactory. Just as there are alternatives to each of the other categories Jesus addresses in The Beatitudes, those who mourn are blessed because they can name the reality they see. We are bereaved. We grieve. We mourn. And we are comforted in knowing that there is hope for the broken and damaged world, just as much as there is for us as broken and damaged persons. But only if we stop refusing to see things as they are. Before we can get angry, or begin to bargain, or deal with our depression, we must overcome our denial.

We are broken. And blessed. Not just because Jesus said so. But because Jesus is here to say so, to us.

Satire, Sarcasm, Mockery, and Ridicule: What if we saw these as an invitation to pursue clearer communication and closer relationships?

If he can see an invitation in THIS communication...

In a recent post to the blog “Uncommon God; Common Good,” entitled “Tis the Season All Year Round: ‘Collective Atheism’ and the Collective Good” (It can be found here: xxxxx, along with links to journalistic reports of the event.), John W. Morehead and Paul Louis Metzger review the “irreligious invocation” delivered, by invitation of the Lake Worth, Florida city commission, by an “atheist activist,” Preston Smith. In doing so, they offer suggestions to both the atheist and Evangelical “collectives” regarding a more diplomatic engagement as each, and many other sides express themselves “in the public square.” Primarily, in seeking the common good of the broader communities in which we serve, Morehead and Metzger recommend against the tendency toward confrontation. I was left, however, without a clear sense of the positive direction we are to pursue instead. What follows is my attempt to supply just such a remedy for, and alternative to, those confrontations.

...and even silence opens opportunity here...

As demonstrated in Preston Smith’s “invocation” before the Lake Worth, Florida city commission (see above for links to that discussion), what one may intend as satire can easily slide south past sarcasm into mere mockery or even reviling ridicule. Unfortunately, a similar patter afflicts Christians of my acquaintance, whom I would hold to a higher standard, based on their claim to be influenced by the indwelling Holy Spirit of God. And yet, too often, variations in our perceptions, even those resulting in only minor differences of perspective on a given issue, lead us beyond disagreement into divisive derision. The same holds true among my non-Christian friends as well. The lists of “forbidden subjects” can quickly extend far beyond religion and politics. In many important areas, we leave no room for authentic dialogue, much less reasoned discourse.

But those who claim to follow Christ are called to something better. If we are to collectively pursue the common good (and I believe community service ministry is an indispensable component of the Christian faith, and even more so when we can cooperate with those already engaged in specific areas of need), then we would do well as Christians to start by developing a better process for opening dialogue with one another. Perhaps then this pattern might assist us in communicating with those outside our faith communities as well. But my first, greatest hope for employing a more diplomatic means of discussion is for a greater unity in the whole of the Church, the body of Christ. This is the unity for which Christ prayed in John 17:20-23 as being indispensable to the clarity and authenticity of the proclamation and practice of the gospel.

...then it shouldn't surprise us that Matalin & Carville...

When conversation does reveal conflicting viewpoints, why do we so quickly disengage, withdrawing from both the topic, changing the subject, and—where the topic is of significance to us, withdrawing from those whose perceptions and perspectives differ from our own? Social Psychologist Christena Cleveland would ascribe the root cause to our desire to be cognitive misers. In short, we would rather not complicate our lives and use valuable mental energy when we could just as easily resort to stereotypes, prejudices, and behavior patterns that keep us from having to reconsider our previously established positions on any given issue.

...or Begin and Sadat find common ground together.

I would ascribe our motivation to a more base emotion, though. Fear. We fear the possibility that our limited perspective (whether we admit that it is limited or not) may have resulted in an incomplete perception on which we have drawn conclusions, made decisions, formed relationships, joined organizations, and perhaps even applied bumper stickers. Our fear demands that we fight or flee. So, we withdraw. Or, we address our conflicting perceptions competitively, choosing confrontation rather than conversation. Better to flee than fight, some would imagine. But if we can train ourselves to recognize the invitation to dialogue inherent in such confrontations, we may find opportunities to engage one another as persons, rather than positions.

To do so, we must remember that confrontation is always reductionistic in at least two ways. First, the point of conflict is reduced to a mere caricature denying that we might have any overlapping complexities in our perceptions or common ground beneath our perspective. We demonstrate, and even exaggerate our otherness in order to clearly define our “distinct viewpoint” from another’s “mistaken assumptions.” Second, confrontation also reduces those holding an opposing perspective on any issue to a mere caricature of personhood. Instead of the complexities and nuances we routinely allow ourselves, we identify others my whatever label popularly represents their position, as though that one position on that one issue defines their character, background, potential and value.

Conflicting viewpoints need not result in confrontation. But even when they do, when others may resort to satire, sarcasm, mockery, or ridicule (and especially when we are the ones who have done so), it represents an opportunity to pursue the issue in question as an invitation. The methodology is simple.

Of course, sometimes you have to let others in on an inside joke.

Try to politely clarify what you understand the other person to have said. I believe it’s appropriate to begin with, “I understand you’re employing a keen sense of irony and the absurd” (which is a kinder way of noting their tone as being sarcastic or worse). But whether including that observation or not, we seek to communicate that “what I’m understanding from that is….” Even when the response is rude, harsh, dismissive, or otherwise difficult to view as an invitation to further dialogue, I have found it helpful to respond to even the worst statements with, “How do you mean?”

There’s more, of course. I believe that the Matthew 18 Protocol (Matthew 18:15-18) can be applied to non-Christians as well as Christians. The New Testament, especially, offers a number of strategies for addressing those who were not just disagreeing with the Apostles, but who openly opposed them at times. But my point here is to emphasize that the decision by others to address a particular issue, even in satire, sarcasm, mockery, and/or ridicule, should be responded to as an invitation to dialogue in which broader understanding can bring the topic of conflict into sharper focus and, even in the absence of agreement on the particular issue, lead us to recognize the concerns, character, and complexities that often overlap and even coincide with our own.

Countdown to Christmas Conversations: An Invitation to Consider the Character of the Christ – Part Five – The Just and Righteous Government

Upholding it all.

This is the sixth in a series of posts discussing my belief in Jesus as the Messiah, in hopes of fostering understanding of my spirituality, and encouraging others to share their own perspectives on spirituality (defined broadly as the means by which we derive meaning from life and assign value to its elements). For more about why I find the discussion of our spirituality to be so important, especially as we countdown to Christmas, please see the initial post in the series. (Found here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/12/countdown-to-christmas-conversations.html)

Atlas trumped by "whole world in His hands."

As I discussed in the last post, Christians are called to be at peace, and to be peace-makers. And yet, we are among the most divisive and territorial groups, even against those with whom we should find the greatest agreement. If we serve the Prince of Peace, then why is there such little peace, even for Christians? Because, simply, too few Christians live as loyal subjects of the King of kings and Lord of lords. We do not practice the presence of the Prince of Peace.

For one thing, we do not apply the protocol Jesus prescribed for conflict resolution and relational reconciliation. The four stages Jesus prescribes in Matthew 18:15-18 require us to prioritize two goals. The first and foremost goal is relational reconciliation. He prays for unity in the body of Christ in John 17:20-21 as the means by which others will recognize His coming. But relational reconciliation is contingent on the second goal: conflict resolution. By “resolving conflict” I do not mean that we must come to agreement on every issue. But it is essential that we commit to an accurate focus and a detailed resolution (in the sense of the resolution of photographs or computer monitors). The real question is: do we clearly see the actual points of conflict?

But there is a second factor preventing us from ever approaching a clear understanding of the conflict(s), much less an relational reconciliation. Why do we ignore or even willfully avoid Jesus’ protocol in Matthew 18? In short, we are afraid. We fear the cost and consequences of each of the four stages of the Matthew 18 protocol. It is a simple matter to confront another’s beliefs or behaviors, so long as there is no opportunity for rebuttal, much less correction of my misperception or misunderstanding. I would prefer to have others simply alter their course to accommodate the beliefs, behaviors, ministries, and life to which I have already become accustomed. But the second stage Jesus prescribes, where He calls us to involve witnesses, involves the potential for those witnesses to exonerate the one I accuse, and to point out my inequity (and iniquity) instead.

Not knocking to get in, but to ask for an accounting.

Why won’t we pay the relatively minor cost of admitting we might be wrong? Because we do not fully grasp the consequences of failing to engage one another’s perspectives and reconciling ourselves together. We do not work for peace, and so we do not experience peace, because we refuse to trust the Lord to bring correction. We believe we must be right, or fear that instead of correction we will experience rejection. Why does this have such power to make us so fearful? Because we imagine that our safety, security, substance, supply, and Savior all depend upon us being right. In fact, all of the above depend merely on being in Him. He is the Prince of Peace. And we can trust Him to bring peace to and through us, so long as we choose to live as subjects of His just and righteous government, the Kingdom of God. That is the government which is upon His shoulders.

In a world that appears to be disintegrating, the body of Christ can no longer afford its continued fragmentation, splintering over issues that are unclearly defined—conflicts that need to be brought into greater resolution and focus—which prevent us from relational reconciliation. If The Church refuses to practice the presence of her Prince of Peace, we resign ourselves to witnessing the continuing increase of violence in the wake of injustice, oppression, and exploitation. This is not the gift we seek this Christmas.

Not quite accurate, but you get the idea of Who's in charge.

Therefore, as subjects of the Prince of Peace, may God find us not only willing, but active in pursuing the kinds of dialogue that result in conflict resolution and relational reconciliation, within both The Church and the communities we are called to serve.

Merry Christmas!

p.s. It’s not a Christmas carol, per se. But I’m singing it this morning as I proof-read this post:

“Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me. Let there be peace on earth, the peace that was meant to be. With God as our Father, siblings all are we. [Inclusive language isn’t always as poetic as the original, but there it is.] Let me walk with my siblings in perfect harmony. Let peace begin with me; let this be the moment now. With every step I take, let this be my solemn vow: To take each moment, and live each moment, in peace eternally. Let there be peace on earth. And let it begin with me.” 

Love Your Enemies – Even ISIS. Even the CIA. Even “Christians” who hate their neighbor.

I have been contemplating Paul Louis Metzger’s recent post, “Who Is to Blame for the ‘Jihad Generation’?” (It can be found here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2014/09/who-is-to-blame-for-the-jihad-generation/.) He notes the increasing attraction of Western-raised Muslims to ISIS, resulting from what Afzal Amin identifies in this way: “‘young Muslims in inner-city Britain have been left disenfranchised by politics and let down by imams and other community leaders.’” Dr. Metzger sees this trend as relevant for United States youths who likewise experience “disillusionment and distress over a lack of opportunity to flourish as honorable members of democratic and capitalistic societies,” and he recommends that “these same societies must become intentional about inspiring hope that involves deconstructing exclusive structures and fostering widespread ownership.”

Metzger is uncomfortably on-point about this. But only momentarily. It is when he suggests that Muslim leaders need “to connect better with youths to make sure they are well-adapted in their Western cultural contexts” that he drifts into parochialism—the tendency to focus on one’s own culture and community, often missing key contrasts and connections with those of other cultures and communities. This is indeed strange territory for Dr. Metzger, given his intense commitment to intercultural dialogue and diplomacy. But where those concepts collide with the boundaries Western culture, he (I would imagine reluctantly) allows that “the current crisis involving ISIS requires military intervention,” even as “efforts in diplomacy must never cease.” He adds, “I cannot imagine governments negotiating with ISIS.”

ISIS and other organizations arise as products of their culture, just as organizations which better fit our Western sensibilities do. We are to value all humans are created in the image and likeness of God, even those who utterly reject our Trinitarian theology and its implications for loving interrelationships of human persons. The Trinitarian stands somewhere between the isolating individualism of the West and the uncompromising conformity demanded elsewhere. In defense of those intent on defeating diversity, even through persecution and murder, consider communities where resources have not only been historically scarce, but where whatever meager supply has been available in the past is routinely exploited for the sake of the personal luxuries of those in the West. Just as we are called to love the excessively individualistic religious consumers wreaking havoc in the North American Christian Church, we are likewise called to love those whose enthusiastically enforced conformity offends our fondness for casual diversity. In both cases, our love for those persons within each, and all other cultures, requires us to seek diplomacy, not warfare. And yes, even with ISIS.

I am unapologetically extremist in this matter. I understand how ludicrous it seems to allow a case to be made for ISIS as a cultural expression of a group diverse from our social standards, and seeking to conform (or eradicate) all others to theirs. The practices of ISIS are imagined to be so diametrically opposed to our own beliefs and behaviors, as to be indefensible. And yet, our own expressions of our “Christian nation’s” cultural bias do not bear close scrutiny.

Today, on a  nationally syndicated Christian radio program, I listened for as long as I could (probably ten minutes or so) to an impassioned rationalization in favor of Enhanced Interrogation Techniques. Even as the presenters sought to differentiate between that euphemism and “torture,” they began to use “the ‘T’ word” for those practices in which physical pain and suffering are inflicted for the purpose of eliciting information from “detainees,” another euphemism made necessary by the indistinct legal category that is neither “arrested” nor “captured.” These “techniques” have been, according to the representatives claiming to speak for a national Christian lobbying and litigation organization, both effective and necessary, as well as legitimate and appropriate. Their primary justification for these acts rested on two principles. First, that the torture of those detained, abducted, or otherwise secured by American interrogators, was intended (and, in hindsight, effective) toward “saving American lives.” Second, they argued that “Muslims believe” that if one has held out so far as possible before divulging information, there is no condemnation awaiting them, even if they betray their compatriots. Thus, “those people” respond well to torture, and we are, therefore, justified in using it so that the lives of “our people” may be spared. Or so the presenters argued.

The question we must ask about these organizations (particularly ISIS and the U.S. Government, but indeed all others who have sought to rationalize their heinous behaviors as “necessary” and “justifiable” by whatever standards they draw from their culture) is this: “Are we going to seek diplomacy among diverse cultures, or are we going to seek the destruction of other cultures in order to enforce our own conformity through applying a ‘convert or die’ warfare model?” Before you object that this is a false dichotomy, that there are other options between, try to imagine the sliding scale along that imaginary spectrum between diplomacy and destruction. What a third option must ask is not whether, but to what extent we will “do evil that good may come.” (In Romans 3:8, the Apostle Paul suggests that this is a very bad idea.)

Among the most effective rationalizations, of course, is that “there’s no reasoning with ‘those people,’” especially since, “they want to kill us, you know.” Throughout the New Testament, there are examples that prove that rule. Jesus’ reasoning with Pilate, Stephen’s reasoning with the Jewish leaders, and many other instances show that logic often fails. But there are also exceptions that prove the rule as well. On occasion, in fact, God intervenes to turn the rule on its head. The gospel of Jesus Christ is about loving one’s neighbor by extending God’s grace to them, as much as it is about loving God in response to His gracious extension of neighborliness with us. (This is a pun based on Metzger’s Christology, in which the incarnation—that Christ came in human flesh—can be said to be an instance of “when love comes to town.”) That those neighbors include those who wish us harm? Jesus’ opinion was that we are still responsible to love them. Can His followers opt to do otherwise?

Again, influenced by Metzger, and his co-author Brad Harper (Exploring Ecclesiology is one of several places you’ll find the concept discussed, but Metzger’s Connecting Christ puts the practice squarely in context with significant examples of doing so with leaders of other faiths), I fully agree that Christians are responsible to adopt the Apostle’s example and do not go around our Christian convictions, nor stop short at our convictions, but to go through our convictions to engage those outside the faith—even if where we’re going through those convictions is into the hands of those whose greatest aspiration is that we die, immediately and directly as a result of our beliefs and behaviors.

The solution for the Jihad Generation is not to be found in making Western democracy and capitalism more attractive than ISIS. The only hope we are offered as Christians is found in following the example of cruciform, sacrificial servanthood, loving even those who hate, despitefully use, and even kill us. 

If you do, then it should be for far more important reasons. Still, I would support your decision, whichever way you go.

Evangelicals Evangelize – But that word, too, means more than you may think it means.

In a recent post to his blog (“Bait and Switch” at “Uncommon God; Common Good” found here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2012/05/bait-and-switch/), Paul Louis Metzger responds to those who would assume that any commitment by Evangelical Christians toward other persons is merely a function of their desire for recognition on account of their success in evangelism.

 To be an Evangelical means to do...what?

I would add another factor in the equation. Some with whom I am acquainted seem desperate to validate their own beliefs by convincing others of their perspective on the truth. Failing to convince others, those engaging in these attempts will then turn to those, they believe, are already convinced. Thus we often seek to “evangelize” those who are already Evangelicals. It’s called “preaching to the choir,” a reference to pastors who punctuate their sermons by turning to the loft behind them and asking, “Can I get an Amen?!” Sadly, what has frequently become strident argumentation with others has been replayed to me by otherwise kind and compassionate Christians, ridiculing the beliefs of those who disagree, even with minor doctrines, even from within our own Christian traditions. It is sometimes as though I, as a pastor, must ally myself with a particular position in order to reassure the reporter of their relational security with Jesus Christ.

In those conversations, as well as those with others outside my particular heritage and tradition, and especially with those outside the Christian faith, I confess that my interests are not only those of mere curiosity and/or diplomatic dialogue. My concern for other persons is always framed by my desire to see the very best for them in their current circumstances, their continuing development, and their eternal destiny. As with Dr. Metzger, this is part of what makes me “an Evangelical.” (Note: that term, for me, carries implications of both “guilt-by-association” and “pride-of-ownership”—depending upon one’s definition of “Evangelical”—which point I belabor in the first post in this series, found here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/11/when-you-say-evangelical-youve-said-lot.html)

Whatever you do is likely to be criticized. (It belongs on the counter.)

I would hold that an Evangelical is responsible to carefully study scripture as the basis for the discussions I would qualify as “doing theology in community.” That discussion must include the depths of twenty centuries from our historical community as well as a breadth of sources within the faith today. In order to communicate as clearly as possible, the current cultural and social realities of our day must also be as fully understood as possible. This requires dialogue with those outside the ranks of Christians, and certainly beyond the narrower designation of Evangelicals—and I can understand why they may not wish to talk as openly with me as I would prefer.

There will always be, for me, two key components to these conversations. First, I need to understand others’ perspectives in order to more clearly communicate (and even refine, as necessary) my own positions. Second, I seek to more clearly communicate my perspective so that others may have opportunity to accept or reject an accurate representation of the beliefs and behaviors of Christ’s gospel, instead of the accretions and adulterations that the gospel regularly attracts, even in my own presentation of it.

Again, this view is influenced by my deep dissatisfaction with so much of the misrepresentation of the gospel, especially by those who seek to abscond with the term Evangelical as a label for their socio-political manipulation, exploitation, and oppression—but even in that, I would hope to persuade you of my position’s accuracy. Why? Well, you’ll have to read about that in the next post.

When You Say “Evangelical,” You’ve Said a Lot of Things So Many Others Say. (In other words, “You keep using that word. But I do not think it means what you think it means.”)

More than a few blurred distinctions.

When You Say “Evangelical,” You’ve Said a Lot of Things So Many Others Say. (In other words, “You keep using that word. But I do not think it means what you think it means.”)

What’s in a word? For those of us seeking to communicate clearly, too often the answer is “far too much.” For example, when the word is “Evangelical” the variety of definitions is so diverse as to make the word nearly meaningless. That has not always been the case, but today there needs to be some clarification.

"Assumes facts not in evidence."

Many confuse the term “Evangelical” as representing at least a portion of “the religious right,” those who crusade for a more comfortable and convenient social environment in which to pursue their narrow view of “Christian culture” amidst a “sanctified” society. Try as they might, however, the term does not fit, leaving the would-be Ecclesial Emperors without the clothes in which they would cloak beliefs and behaviors that are entirely incompatible with the Evangelical label.

You should know, though, that I do have a dog in this fight. Being “a theologically conservative Christian holding a high view of scripture and a subsequent insistence on salvation by grace through faith in Christ alone” (I believe that to be an acceptable definition of “Evangelical.”) requires me to reject two of the most prevalent practices of “the religious right.”

First, and worst, the politically-motivated are looking for such “Evangelicals” as will arrogantly augment, if not entirely eliminate Christians’ dependence upon answered prayer. They preach that we should pursue, in addition or instead, mass-market fund-raising approaches to accomplish our social-engineering goals through adversarial litigation and lobbying for legislation.

John Hancock did not sign The Gospel.

The methods are bad enough. But what if they were successful? I reject not only the prescribed means, but the ends toward which these efforts are directed. The politically conservative among us offer Evangelicals a false utopia. This paradise would be devoid of dissent against whatever they define as their distinctive doctrines. They would prohibit the disaster of allowing individual disobedience, lest it lead to social dysfunction. And they would suggest they could defeat the effects of depravity by destroying its source: the availability of temptation. But God did not send His Son into the world to eradicate the dissenters, the dysfunctional, the disobedient, or even the depraved. The Son’s calling, and ours, is to alleviate the suffering, illuminate the escape route, and welcome those who would join us in doing the same.

Why do I reject the utopia offered by the religious right? Because it’s the wrong goal, pursued along the wrong path. Religiously-enforced behavioral constraints (i.e., emphasizing moral behavior and ritual participations as the core elements of “Christianity”) are as ineffective an end as the means to establishing them are unbiblical. And for an Evangelical (so far as I understand what the term was intended to mean), that is inconceivable.

More to follow shortly.