Today on National Public Radio, a reporter described an interview he had had with the late Elizabeth Edwards, who died yesterday of breast cancer. Edwards was the wife of John Edwards, former Democratic Vice Presidential candidate.
The reporter himself had survived cancer, he said, and he and Edwards quickly formed a bond because of their illness. He said he was surprised by her honesty, especially about religion. She told the reporter that she couldn't pray to a God who allowed her 16 year-old son to die in a car crash. She said that if God wouldn't save her son, He certainly wouldn't save her from cancer.
The problem of evil, suffering, and death causes many people to stop believing in God, especially in a beneficent God. For millennia, humans who believe in God have wrestled with what theologians call theodicy, the existence of evil, suffering, and death within a context of belief in a God of love, and we have tried to make sense of the pain of life, while still believing in a God who cares and acts for our welfare.
There is no satisfactory human resolution of the problem, but there is the cross of Jesus Christ, in my view.
As a pastor, I am constantly dealing with tragedy of one kind or another: a sudden and unexplained death; the loss of mental functioning by someone who was once bright and creative; the unceasing suffering of people in Haiti.
And yet I believe. Sunday after Sunday, I confess my faith in God in the words of the Nicene Creed. I say I believe in a God who makes Himself known in love for humankind as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I believe in a God who does not hold Himself apart from humankind and our struggles, but who engages in them with us and aids us in our distress. I see this active, involved God most fully at work in the life, passion and death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. On the cross, God suffers and dies, and on the third day, God, in Jesus, conquers all the evil, suffering, dying, death, tragedy--every enemy of humankind--in the resurrection.
We're Easter Christians, someone once observed, living in a Good Friday world. We face the harsh realities of life in this brutal, but also wonderful world, believing that God is with us and cares for us, that God identifies with us in our humanity in Jesus, that God is victorious over the Evil One, and that one day God's new creation will come to earth as it already exists in heaven, and then suffering and sighing, as Isaiah says, will be no more.
Now, I believe Elizabeth Edwards, who suffered mightily in many ways, knows life eternally in the Communion of Saints. Rest eternal grant to her, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon her. May her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercies of God rest in peace.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The church as the heart of a community
In a seminary course on the history of the Anglican church in America, I became fascinated by the 19th century model of the urban church as a community center.
In Jesus' metaphors from the gospels, the church operated in the cities--especially in the presence of poverty, hunger, illness, lack of education--as: "salt," "light," "leaven"--functioning as an agent of transformation.
The church is the most important agent of transformation in society, I believe, because the church, our members united to Christ and to one another in baptism, carries on Christ's transformational work.
Transformation is healing, rescuing, redeeming, saving--making people and institutions whole again.
Last night, I saw that transformational work happening at Christ Episcopal Church.
We held our annual Thanksgiving Dinner for the community. Donya Ross, our Youth Minister, and her team of youth, parents, and others from the parish organized a huge and hearty meal and invited people from the neighborhoods around the church to the feast.
I don't know the final count of people we served, but it had to be upwards of 150. We would have had many more guests, were it not for cold, driving rain.
Even so, the parish hall was packed with single people, families, and lots of children. Most of our guests were living at or below the poverty level; some of them were homeless, arriving in the parish hall with their backpacks and bedrolls.
We also served some Missouri State University students who were natives of Dubai. They had responded to our invitations to the foreign students at MSU and Drury University. I sat at the table with them, making sure that they knew they were welcome in our church and to America.
I'm proud of our church members--young and old. They welcomed our guests, served their meals, sat and ate with them, cleared away the tables afterwards, and did the mammoth job of clean up afterwards.
Last night, I witnessed the Body of Christ in action.
And I saw our parish hall become a community center, where our needy neighbors knew they were welcome and where they found Christian hospitality, a healthy, substantial meal, and the abundant love of Jesus.
May it always be so.
In Jesus' metaphors from the gospels, the church operated in the cities--especially in the presence of poverty, hunger, illness, lack of education--as: "salt," "light," "leaven"--functioning as an agent of transformation.
The church is the most important agent of transformation in society, I believe, because the church, our members united to Christ and to one another in baptism, carries on Christ's transformational work.
Transformation is healing, rescuing, redeeming, saving--making people and institutions whole again.
Last night, I saw that transformational work happening at Christ Episcopal Church.
We held our annual Thanksgiving Dinner for the community. Donya Ross, our Youth Minister, and her team of youth, parents, and others from the parish organized a huge and hearty meal and invited people from the neighborhoods around the church to the feast.
I don't know the final count of people we served, but it had to be upwards of 150. We would have had many more guests, were it not for cold, driving rain.
Even so, the parish hall was packed with single people, families, and lots of children. Most of our guests were living at or below the poverty level; some of them were homeless, arriving in the parish hall with their backpacks and bedrolls.
We also served some Missouri State University students who were natives of Dubai. They had responded to our invitations to the foreign students at MSU and Drury University. I sat at the table with them, making sure that they knew they were welcome in our church and to America.
I'm proud of our church members--young and old. They welcomed our guests, served their meals, sat and ate with them, cleared away the tables afterwards, and did the mammoth job of clean up afterwards.
Last night, I witnessed the Body of Christ in action.
And I saw our parish hall become a community center, where our needy neighbors knew they were welcome and where they found Christian hospitality, a healthy, substantial meal, and the abundant love of Jesus.
May it always be so.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Coffee. Christ. Compassion.
After Penny's and my workout this morning, I indulged in one of my spiritual disciplines:
I went to my favorite coffee shop to enjoy a bold, black coffee and to read The New York Times.
I was content at my table until a man with a long, tangled beard came in the front door. He went to the merchandise displays, mumbled something to himself, and then sat down near me.
He started thumping the table with his hands and talking to himself. Very loudly.
No, he hadn't had a large coffee with six shots of espresso.
Something else was going on. He started to curse his partner, invisible to me, across the table from him.
By now, my contentment had changed to concern.
I'm sensitive to people with illnesses, especially mental illnesses. The ill should receive the very best care available, but I know that many of them don't because they can't afford it; they don't have insurance for doctor visits or hospital stays or money for medicines.
The man at the coffee shop might be one of these people. Or he might have medical insurance, which paid for treatment in the hospital and as an out-patient and for his medicines, but for some reason, he's stopped taking them; it happens a lot.
I didn't ask him about his situation. Uneasy because of his behavior, I left. I went outside, found a table, and finished my coffee and paper, glancing from time to time through the window to see where the man was and what he was doing.
At one point, I noticed him standing near the counter--a small cup of coffee in his hand, talking with someone. Not the invisible person this time, but one of the staff.
After the man left, I went inside and asked my friend who works there about the man, whether he'd had any trouble with him.
"I gave him a sample," my friend said. "And I talked with him a little. And he left."
"You handled that well," I told him, embarrassed at how I'd reacted to the man.
This morning, I responded to that mentally ill man with fear and suspicion. The next time, I want to respond as my friend did--and as Christ would--with compassion.
I went to my favorite coffee shop to enjoy a bold, black coffee and to read The New York Times.
I was content at my table until a man with a long, tangled beard came in the front door. He went to the merchandise displays, mumbled something to himself, and then sat down near me.
He started thumping the table with his hands and talking to himself. Very loudly.
No, he hadn't had a large coffee with six shots of espresso.
Something else was going on. He started to curse his partner, invisible to me, across the table from him.
By now, my contentment had changed to concern.
I'm sensitive to people with illnesses, especially mental illnesses. The ill should receive the very best care available, but I know that many of them don't because they can't afford it; they don't have insurance for doctor visits or hospital stays or money for medicines.
The man at the coffee shop might be one of these people. Or he might have medical insurance, which paid for treatment in the hospital and as an out-patient and for his medicines, but for some reason, he's stopped taking them; it happens a lot.
I didn't ask him about his situation. Uneasy because of his behavior, I left. I went outside, found a table, and finished my coffee and paper, glancing from time to time through the window to see where the man was and what he was doing.
At one point, I noticed him standing near the counter--a small cup of coffee in his hand, talking with someone. Not the invisible person this time, but one of the staff.
After the man left, I went inside and asked my friend who works there about the man, whether he'd had any trouble with him.
"I gave him a sample," my friend said. "And I talked with him a little. And he left."
"You handled that well," I told him, embarrassed at how I'd reacted to the man.
This morning, I responded to that mentally ill man with fear and suspicion. The next time, I want to respond as my friend did--and as Christ would--with compassion.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Learning from the Chilean miners
With millions of people worldwide, I watched some of the 33 Chilean miners rescued after 69 days of being trapped deep within the earth. One by one, the miners were hoisted to the surface in a cage-like tube.
The miners survived because they cooperated with one another. They acted as a team. And their survival has something to teach us.
Above the surface, we humans are unable to get along, especially today in America amid one of the most venomous political campaign seasons in history. Whatever the office sought, Republicans, Democrats, Tea Party members, Independents throw themselves against one another like dogs in a pit savaging one another until only one is left alive.
We can do better. We deserve better. And voters must demand better.
What none of the candidates realizes is that whatever our political party, we're all fighting for survival against many threats, including: a persistent recession, massive income inequality, global warming, hatred and"isms" of all kinds, war.
Yes, we have different ideas about overcoming these threats, but differences needn't destroy us. Differences can be discussed, debated, refined into better policies to solve our problems. Moreover, differences shouldn't be exacerbated and exploited by cynical political manipulators for party advantage.
If we continue to attack one another, like pit bulls; if we continue to work against one another, thwarting solutions to national and global problems, then we're doomed. We'll die in the dark.
But if we work together for the common good--not for one party's domination of the others--then we'll survive and even thrive as a nation and people.
What worked underground for those miners will surely work above ground for all of us.
The miners survived because they cooperated with one another. They acted as a team. And their survival has something to teach us.
Above the surface, we humans are unable to get along, especially today in America amid one of the most venomous political campaign seasons in history. Whatever the office sought, Republicans, Democrats, Tea Party members, Independents throw themselves against one another like dogs in a pit savaging one another until only one is left alive.
We can do better. We deserve better. And voters must demand better.
What none of the candidates realizes is that whatever our political party, we're all fighting for survival against many threats, including: a persistent recession, massive income inequality, global warming, hatred and"isms" of all kinds, war.
Yes, we have different ideas about overcoming these threats, but differences needn't destroy us. Differences can be discussed, debated, refined into better policies to solve our problems. Moreover, differences shouldn't be exacerbated and exploited by cynical political manipulators for party advantage.
If we continue to attack one another, like pit bulls; if we continue to work against one another, thwarting solutions to national and global problems, then we're doomed. We'll die in the dark.
But if we work together for the common good--not for one party's domination of the others--then we'll survive and even thrive as a nation and people.
What worked underground for those miners will surely work above ground for all of us.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Lending a hand
"Hey, can you give me a hand?" A giant man with a hurting knee was asking me to help him up the steps and out of the hot tub at the fitness center.
"Sure, " I said, and I used both hands to help him out.
He said thanks. And I felt good helping a fellow human being, even in this small, simple way.
Jesus is God's hand out to us in all our needs. He's God offering us a hand up and out of all that keeps us from the fullness of life.
And as the followers of Jesus, we're to be His hands outstretched to the world and to human beings in their needs.
That man's need at the fitness center was for help out of the hot tub.
But other needs confront us daily: a hungry person needs food, a lonely person needs a visit, a discouraged person needs a call or note of encouragement.
We might not hear the words, "Hey, can you give me a hand?" with our actual ears, but we certainly will hear those words, that cry for help, with our spiritual ears.
That's Christ in the other person's need, seeking our response.
In taking that man's hands in mine, I was taking Christ's hands in mine, and Christ was taking mine in His, and there was communion in that moment of compassion. And joy.
May you meet Christ, too, in answering His call, "Hey, can you give me a hand?"
"Sure, " I said, and I used both hands to help him out.
He said thanks. And I felt good helping a fellow human being, even in this small, simple way.
Jesus is God's hand out to us in all our needs. He's God offering us a hand up and out of all that keeps us from the fullness of life.
And as the followers of Jesus, we're to be His hands outstretched to the world and to human beings in their needs.
That man's need at the fitness center was for help out of the hot tub.
But other needs confront us daily: a hungry person needs food, a lonely person needs a visit, a discouraged person needs a call or note of encouragement.
We might not hear the words, "Hey, can you give me a hand?" with our actual ears, but we certainly will hear those words, that cry for help, with our spiritual ears.
That's Christ in the other person's need, seeking our response.
In taking that man's hands in mine, I was taking Christ's hands in mine, and Christ was taking mine in His, and there was communion in that moment of compassion. And joy.
May you meet Christ, too, in answering His call, "Hey, can you give me a hand?"
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Is this the best we can do?
I've just read online that the US Senate has approved legislation requiring that the volume on TV commercials be turned down.
Finally.
I've been waiting for a lifetime for this dramatic, courageous act by one of our two legislative bodies. And now it's happened. I don't know what I'll do--how I'll celebrate.
But I'm cheering for how our 100 senators, Republicans and Democrats, "reached across the aisle," in Washington-speak, and did the nation's business and made this a better country for all people.
Our ears thank you.
And now that they've accomplished this major feat of lawmaking--and with House members ready to drop everything, including their plane tickets home for campaigning and return to their chamber, and with the president, pen in his left hand ready to sign this bill into law--perhaps our leaders will turn to other, less consequential matters.
Here are a few ideas:
How about legislation ensuring a clean planet for us, our children, and grandchildren? How about jobs for millions of unemployed Americans? How about spending as much for relief and recovery efforts in Pakistan and elsewhere as we spend on weapons for them?
And while our senators, representatives, and president are at it, how about showing you care less for your parties--and the Tea Party--and more for this country and all our citizens?
Now that would really be something. Something that would make this voter and a great many other voters proud of our government, because it's working, finally. Something that would really be worth a headline.
Finally.
I've been waiting for a lifetime for this dramatic, courageous act by one of our two legislative bodies. And now it's happened. I don't know what I'll do--how I'll celebrate.
But I'm cheering for how our 100 senators, Republicans and Democrats, "reached across the aisle," in Washington-speak, and did the nation's business and made this a better country for all people.
Our ears thank you.
And now that they've accomplished this major feat of lawmaking--and with House members ready to drop everything, including their plane tickets home for campaigning and return to their chamber, and with the president, pen in his left hand ready to sign this bill into law--perhaps our leaders will turn to other, less consequential matters.
Here are a few ideas:
How about legislation ensuring a clean planet for us, our children, and grandchildren? How about jobs for millions of unemployed Americans? How about spending as much for relief and recovery efforts in Pakistan and elsewhere as we spend on weapons for them?
And while our senators, representatives, and president are at it, how about showing you care less for your parties--and the Tea Party--and more for this country and all our citizens?
Now that would really be something. Something that would make this voter and a great many other voters proud of our government, because it's working, finally. Something that would really be worth a headline.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Christians? who burn Korans
This Saturday, September 11, a self-described evangelical Christian pastor will lead his Florida congregation in burning copies of the Koran.
The pastor says the Koran is an evil book. He says the book burning will be a fitting memorial to the victims of the terrorist attacks on America nine years ago this September 11th.
I understand why Muslims are outraged. As a Christian, I am outraged also.
There is nothing evangelical or Christian about this minister and the people who support him. Their planned desecration of another faith tradition's sacred scriptures is a desecration of the Bible itself and is a sacrilege against Christ himself.
The word evangelical comes from a Greek word that means "good news."
Where is the good news in burning the Koran and adding to the fires of fear and hatred of Islam in America, fires that have been stoked already by other demagogues on radio and TV, in print, in their campaign speeches, and from pulpits?
How can it be good news that burning the Koran, according to the American general commanding allied forces in Afghanistan, will likely imperil his troops, will spread extremist views, and will encourage further violence.
Moreover, the pastor and his flock call themselves Christians, professing to follow Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord. They don't follow Jesus, the Good Shepherd.
Jesus makes God known to human beings, and God is love. Jesus' every word and deed, especially his offering himself on the cross for the salvation of all, is done in love.
In loving others, Jesus acts for their well being and for the fullness of life in them. Never does he seek to condemn and destroy others, not even the Roman soldiers who crucify him.
We Christians, along with Jews and Muslims, and people of all faiths (and no faith) should speak out against the evil of bigotry, religious intolerance, and violence.
We should work for understanding among people of all faiths (and no faith), mutual respect, tolerance, and a better world for everyone.
(Through the Interfaith Alliance here in Springfield, we people of faith are loving one another and working for the good of this community. Our next meeting is Sunday at the Library Station on the north side at 3.30 pm.)
And we should pray for people who are consumed by evil, that God will save them, leading them from death to the fullness of life.
Such positive, constructive actions--not burning holy books--is a truly fitting memorial to the victims of September 11 and all the 9/lls that have happened since then in the name of religion.
The pastor says the Koran is an evil book. He says the book burning will be a fitting memorial to the victims of the terrorist attacks on America nine years ago this September 11th.
I understand why Muslims are outraged. As a Christian, I am outraged also.
There is nothing evangelical or Christian about this minister and the people who support him. Their planned desecration of another faith tradition's sacred scriptures is a desecration of the Bible itself and is a sacrilege against Christ himself.
The word evangelical comes from a Greek word that means "good news."
Where is the good news in burning the Koran and adding to the fires of fear and hatred of Islam in America, fires that have been stoked already by other demagogues on radio and TV, in print, in their campaign speeches, and from pulpits?
How can it be good news that burning the Koran, according to the American general commanding allied forces in Afghanistan, will likely imperil his troops, will spread extremist views, and will encourage further violence.
Moreover, the pastor and his flock call themselves Christians, professing to follow Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord. They don't follow Jesus, the Good Shepherd.
Jesus makes God known to human beings, and God is love. Jesus' every word and deed, especially his offering himself on the cross for the salvation of all, is done in love.
In loving others, Jesus acts for their well being and for the fullness of life in them. Never does he seek to condemn and destroy others, not even the Roman soldiers who crucify him.
We Christians, along with Jews and Muslims, and people of all faiths (and no faith) should speak out against the evil of bigotry, religious intolerance, and violence.
We should work for understanding among people of all faiths (and no faith), mutual respect, tolerance, and a better world for everyone.
(Through the Interfaith Alliance here in Springfield, we people of faith are loving one another and working for the good of this community. Our next meeting is Sunday at the Library Station on the north side at 3.30 pm.)
And we should pray for people who are consumed by evil, that God will save them, leading them from death to the fullness of life.
Such positive, constructive actions--not burning holy books--is a truly fitting memorial to the victims of September 11 and all the 9/lls that have happened since then in the name of religion.
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