“What to Make of Us Now”

Last week, the 221^st General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) the Christian denomination in which I am an ordained Teaching Elder, was meeting in Detroit, Michigan.  If you weren’t napping during the evening news or snoozing through the Sunday papers, you probably know about the two decisions of our church’s highest council that hit all the headlines.  (To be sure, the General Assembly made decisions, took many actions, and approved scads of recommendations—and all but two or three failed to make headline news!  Unfortunately, this is not uncommon.)

The Assembly approved an authoritative interpretation that allows PCUSA Teaching Elders (ministers/pastors) and congregations—in states where it is legal—to celebrate same-gender marriages.  What you probably DID NOT READ OR HEAR was that the same authoritative interpretation also allows PCUSA Teaching Elders and congregations the right to decline participating in such celebrations for reasons of conscience and conviction.  In practice—this secondary, non-headline grabbing part, has always been true of any marriage—ministers and congregations could and still can decline any request if they believed the marriage was or is unwise. 

The Assembly also voted narrowly (310 in favor to 303 against) to redirect some of our financial investments with respect to three North American companies by “divesting” our financial holdings in our investment portfolios.  After years of corporate engagement, these companies have consistently refused to address changes in business practices or shift away from taking advantage of violence and occupation in the Middle East to make corporate profits—from which our church’s portfolio benefited, too.  And while there have been wide-ranging condemnations of this action from the Jewish community and others, (including churches and members who disagreed) I believe it’s important to keep in mind that this action DID NOT remove any money from the nation of Israel, nor did it withdraw our support from a two-state solution, nor does it presume to affect our nation’s historic alliance, support, or commitment to Israel’s statehood. 

So, for a week now, e-mails, telephone calls, and letters—both in support of these and other actions as well as to decry them—have been hot and heavy for many of my colleagues in local congregations, judicatories, and national offices.  And while I haven’t faced angry parishioners or distraught members of my Township, it’s been a hard week of fallout for me.  It’s been hard, because I’ve personally become aware of the acute pain that is being felt in real-life relationships—including some of my own—BECAUSE of a General Assembly. 

Let me be clear.  Most of us in the PCUSA have grown accustomed to taking each General Assembly with a grain of salt.  We almost never make headlines.  Consider that we’ve been arguing and debating over issues of homosexuality, sex, marriage, fidelity and chastity, and same-sex marriage for nearly 40 years.  This year I celebrated 19 years of ordained ministry.  In that time, I’ve had to vote at least once each year on an issue related to homosexuality in our church and I’ve never received an angry phone call or e-mail from a church member, or an inquiring phone call or e-mail from a news reporter—and I still haven’t! 

And if I had one reaction or one hope as a result of the General Assembly’s action this time it would be that maybe we can take this topic of the table—as in for good.  I don’t want to have to ever talk about it again!  I’m weary of it, worn down, and feel mostly beaten. 

But we can’t! 

In the week since General Assembly the news has invaded not the governing body but our constituent churches.  Those of us who “weren’t there” in the assembly hall to hear the arguments and give witness to the presence of the Holy Spirit and feel the breath of God and the winds of change on our faces have been left back at home to pick up the pieces.  And we’re definitely not used to the shock-waves of all the attention! 

This time, it’s different. 

This week, I listened to a colleague who had important personal friendships and ministerial relationships with Jewish friends and congregational leaders.  He’s not getting phone calls, e-mails and letters, either—they’re not even calling to say “goodbye”—because they disagree with what they’ve heard in the news reports about the actions of the General Assembly. 

This week, in my own family the General Assembly’s actions are a matter of contention, controversy, and pain.  My wife is Catholic.  Our churches and faiths are not of one voice on the issue of same-sex marriage.  And what many of my colleagues and friends can celebrate as a moment of joy and triumph has been for me a bitter knife plunged into my own marital relationship. 

This week, while some “hooray” the turning tide, others I know are left with open wounds.  In an almost, “Thank God the fighting is over” comment, one of my colleagues indicated relations are no longer about fighting the denomination—the evangelical cause has lost; “there’s only room now for sharing the truth in love,” he said, promising that’s what he intended to do. 

The new reality in my beloved PCUSA has come at a great PERSONAL cost for many of us.  Those who’ve been fighting for years would say, “of course,” even that their cost has been so great for so long.  But this isn’t because some people are mad or uncomfortable; it’s not that there will be painful votes by sessions and congregations to leave our denomination for another.  It’s not just the brokenness of a theological divide in the sanctuary when we gather for presbytery meetings. 

There’s actually very real pain and suffering.  So much so, that if we could have given witness to it at the General Assembly, maybe the Spirit would have blown another way. 

But it didn’t. 

Now, we face the real, authentic, genuine pain.  And if people out there think the hard work’s over—then our victory is just the pride of separation and division.  And on each of these issues, I believe the hope of the General Assembly was to in some measure OVERCOME the specter of separation and division. 

So now, what we’re going to be testing, isn’t how far we can press a fragile alliance toward one view or the other, but our commitment to loving one another, our agility at helping to bind up one another’s wounds, and our obligation to beat our swords into plowshares—both the literal and figurative. 

Now, all of us in the whole of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) must face the old nemesis to any and every marriage—the challenges of brokenness and the search for reconciliation!  And that isn’t what happens when people just leave! 

The question for me is this: What will the world make of us now? 

If we plan on staking a claim to prophetic actions and hope-filled proclamation, what will the world say of us or make of us if all we’re interested in is conquer and divide.  If that’s all the hope we can demonstrate, we don’t deserve the headlines or the influence. 

But, if they can see that we are Christians by our LOVE—for one another—we may be given headline-worthy ministry at the 222^nd General Assembly in 2016. 

Put Away the Guns Already--my heart is breaking!

 These pictures are apparently a new advertisement for the “latest bulletproof” technology available to schools, parents, and children.  So you know, it’s also touted as “protective gear” for events like tornadoes. 

In the wake of more gun-related violence, hearts again are broken.  Not just any violence, like an angry outburst or an enraged response of someone hurt or spurned; instead insidious violence at a school.  I said to the congregation I serve in my sermon this past Sunday, after learning about another university shooting on the west coast—“prepare yourselves, there will be others.”  I didn’t think it would come in less than two days. 

I’m told that since the horrific day when the world learned the name of Columbine because of the violence that happened there, that there have been 149 gun-related events.  There were 75 in the 14 years between Columbine and the shooting at the elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut; and in the not quite two years since Newtown, another 74 events of gun-related violence. 

My heart is breaking.  After this week’s news, I found this picture circulating on the internet; part of a news report on an advertising campaign for a new kind of protective body armor that can be deployed in our schools.  My heart is breaking, because this kind of response is simply confirmation that we seem more than prepared to accept more death, more innocent deaths, more harm perpetrated by individuals and groups.  And we’d rather accept death in order to protect the rights to bear whatever kinds of weapons we deem fit, knowing for certain that this right will result in more deaths.  My heart is breaking. 

Here’s the thing.  While we cling to this right to have and use guns that so many see as most necessary—as if freedom itself depends on a loaded weapon with a finger on the trigger—we seem to have no view of Jesus and his ministry. 

Jesus never used a weapon of any kind against other human beings.  

Jesus, I’m convinced, would never hold a gun against any other human being for any reason. 

As Elias Chacour says in the inscription in each book he signs, “God does not kill.”  Further, Jesus asks his followers to put their weapons away when he is threatened with arrest: “Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.” 

Of course, a sword is a far cry from a gun or an assault rifle.  As some have observed, would the perpetrators of these violent incidents have used swords instead of guns, the death and damage likely would have been less and less costly.  No, Jesus doesn’t favor swords over guns.  Jesus clearly sides with beating swords and guns into plowshares. 

Last week, I watched a recorded segment of the Tonight Show with David Letterman in which the host, Letterman, in an interview with Anderson Cooper, declared in references to these shootings: “For the love of Christ, when are we going to do something about this nonsense.”  I don’t know about Mr. Letterman’s religious leanings or even if he is a practicing Christian; but it sounded like a siren-call for those of us who claim the name and life of Jesus. 

I don’t know how to practically go about beating our swords and guns into plowshares.  Abolishing the 2^nd Amendment is likely not a political or reasonable solution.  We live too much in the shadow of guns; but hoping or aiming to ban them altogether hardly seems a winning possibility.  Jesus didn't banish swords; but he did say, put them away. 

To those who so vehemently defend the 2^nd Amendment as if we cannot ever imagine reversing it, I ask you to consider the observation that the original constitution declares the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  These days, the 2^nd Amendment right to bear arms and the resulting violence seems to stand stridently in conflict with the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  Even more menacing, increasingly it's innocent children who are victimized by this gun violence enabled by our zest for firearms. 

For me, while it is my right as a citizen of our great nation to have a gun, buy a gun, handle a gun, use a gun, I will not—for any reason.  And in order to save the lives of others, I believe a Christian witness worthy of Jesus, would be for all of us who claim his name to do no less than to put away our guns.  To voluntarily lock them up—effectively making them useless instruments of violence—figuratively beating them into plowshares. 

One of my Facebook friends, Aric Clark, observed in the aftermath of the time before last with one of these shootings, where pictures were circulating of people carrying assault rifles to places like Wal-Mart: 

If you own and openly carry an assault rifle in public spaces you are intentionally sending the message that you are capable and willing to cause massive bodily harm and death to other human beings. It is not irrational for other people to fear you. It is actually what you want. You are a dog baring your teeth. A gorilla beating your chest. Don't pretend it is innocuous to wave an assault rifle around. It is an open threat. 

These days, it simply stands to reason that ANY GUN is a threat.  And that EVERY GUN sends the message that the one holding it is capable—and willing if necessary—to cause massive bodily harm and death to others.  And even when that gun is in the hands of one of the “good guys”—like a soldier or a police officer—the threat is simple, “comply with what I say or I have the right to injure or even kill you.” 

Guns aren’t keeping us safe.  They trick us into believing that we don’t have to rely completely on God’s goodness.  They trick us into believing that the power we create for ourselves is better than God’s provision.  They trick us into thinking that we can have whatever we want without consequences if we can just hold the power in our hands and demonstrate it a time or two for others.  Like, “if the bad guys know we can shoot and kill them, they won’t be tempted to rob the bank.”  We feel the need to protect ourselves, but in that desperate attempt to feel safe, we put others AND OURSELVES at more risk. 

And instead of releasing the grip on the weapons, it will be the plan of many to simply try and clothe the would-be innocent victims in some sort of body armor.  Have fun playing on the playground under a bullet-proof blanket, kids! 

Even that can’t stem the tide; and in the meantime, we’ll live in fear.  How many days till the next shooting?  Since Columbine, the number of days is down to about one shooting per week.  Like Sabbath—one in every seven! 

Stop already.  STOP ALREADY!  My heart is breaking.  The losses are far too real--and unnecessary.  The chances are, the violence will only get closer and closer to home.  74 more events since Newtown; 149 episodes since Columbine. 

I can already begin to count when my own children must take their turn as victims.  Does it take that before I join the chorus—“for the love of Christ, why didn’t we when we had the chance.” 

In fact, why does it take any victim at all. 

Can’t we find a way, for the love of brothers and sisters and care for the world to simply put the guns away.  It’s about 2-3 days until another shooting.  

After Easter. Now what?

Christians celebrate Easter with the joy of new life, second changes, and the promise that death doesn’t have the last word.  Easter is grand, glorious, and hope-filled; and it lasts until Pentecost. 

Because the gospels portray Jews—and in particular the Jewish religious leaders, the scribes and Pharisees—in rather unflattering ways, it’s often forgotten that Jews and Christians share the 50 days between Passover and Pentecost.  Leviticus in the Old Testament recounts the “counting of days in chapter 23: 

 “You shall count until the day after the seventh sabbath, fifty days; then you shall present an offering of new grain to the Lord.”  

In that same timeframe, Christians are counting from the celebration of Easter.  And if this is news to you, it all comes together in Acts chapter 2 with the disciples gathered together and proclaiming in the native tongues of all the travelers on pilgrimage to Jerusalem to celebrate Shavout—the Festival of Weeks. 

Yes.  Christians and Jews share this sacred time, together.  A time of “counting.”  A time of “waiting.” 

But what happens when the counting and the waiting are over? 

Jews celebrate God’s gift of the Torah at Mt. Sinai.  Following the great escape from Egypt, God leads the people to Sinai and delivers the books and stories for God’s people to live by, including the Commandments gifted in those well-known tablets of stone. 

Christians celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit.  Perhaps in similar ways, the reminder, the help, the power of God to live in relationship with God.  This time, no rigid tablets of stone—quite the opposite—the sound of a mighty rush of wind, flames of fire dancing over people’s heads, it’s the Advocate who helps us know what to say and do since Jesus has ascended or returned to God. 

Jesus, in several accounts of instructions to his disciples, followers, and believers, points out the ministry of caring for one another, treating one another with respect, and in a famous parable in Matthew’s gospel of the sheep and the goats says to us—“whenever you do unto the least of these, you do also for me.”  Undoubtedly that’s a part of going to all nations and baptizing them and teaching them.  And just as undoubtedly that’s what it means to be “witnesses” as Luke describes in Luke and Acts. 

For Jews, chapter 23 in Leviticus goes on to describe the conclusion of the “counting of days” with this observation and instruction:  “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest; you shall leave them for the poor and for the alien: I am the Lord your God.” 

It seems to me that Jews and Christians, as well as all people of great faith, share a vision of the world that includes care for one another—especially those who are suffering, especially those who don’t have enough, especially those who are at risk.  For Jews and Christians in particular, these days of counting and waiting end not just on a prescribed date, but when those who celebrate this time begin again to live into the covenant that God has shared with us and shown us.  For Jews, it’s the life Torah prescribes.  For Christians, it’s the life of the Torah lived out in Jesus. 

And somehow, Easter seems to lose some of its special meaning, if all we do is hold up a picture of an empty tomb without going forth to live the life Jesus teaches us.  Come Pentecost, the time of waiting is over.  The Holy Spirit comes to inhabit us and we are called to move with a purpose in the world—caring for one another, “doing unto the least of these,” and leaving the gleanings of the harvest for the poor and for the alien. 

Easter days are waning.  It’s time to move into (new) life with a purpose—sharing, witnessing, telling, doing for others.