I think we're in trouble.

As I (with my best intention) work at cleaning up the kitchen, I find myself thinking about the Church. I know. But it's kind of what church nerds do when their cleaning the kitchen. Besides, I really do love the Church.
Anyway what occurred to me is that the problem that we seem to have with the Church seems largely a post-industrialized world problem. Y'know? It's like at one time the Church really fit us--it was fashionable and we wore it everywhere we went. Now, it's out of fashion. It's not someting we'd be caught dead in--in fact, we really only get it out and wear it at holiday dinners and when the aunt who knitted it for us comes around. "Yup, auntie. I really love the Church you made me..."
That said, the Church seems to have become something like deer in North America. No more natural predators, so there is over population and starvation due to lack of food source.
Now, I'm not advocating for the removal of Christians. I'm not advocating for persecution. But I would like to point out that the last time the Church got this comfy and fat we had the Dark Ages. Something to think about.

Religion isn't the problem... (A Rant. A Response. Not Spoken Word.)

I suppose because I'm not as on top of things as I'd like to be--or because I just don't have time for this kind of B.S.; I didn't catch this video until recently. It's the spoken word video called "Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus."
I know a lot of people have responded to this...and , well...whatever. But this whole spiritual but not religious thing that has infected society is really something with which I have beef. So, in the event that anyone reads this, and you disagree with me, here's my premise:
*cue overdone artsy video footage in sepia*
Jesus didn't come to abolish religion.
In fact, we read that he was faithful in attending synagogue, and even participating in synagogue worship. His family made trips to Jerusalem (a religious necessity for God's people). And, aside from the few times we see him challenging the cultural norms that oppressed people, he was an authority on midrash and Torah. whoops.
Guess the revolution is over. Edginess and angst (a word often misused) aborted.
Here is my point. Our relationship with God is not only our own. If it were, that would be a great excuse for isolationism. Isolationism as we know from the DSM IV can easily lead to socio-pathology. Isolation is also a result of sin. So, what we can derive from this is that our vocation as Christians is based solidly in relationship and community. God as Trinitarian is the model for perfect union in community, and as creatures created in God's image, perhaps we should strive to live more fully in community...?
Now, the tricky part about relationship is that there needs to be more than 'feel-goods' holding us together in community. What I mean is that we need more than just orgasmic worship experience and fluttery hearts to keep true relationships going. If there isn't something more, we become gigolos or whores to false religious experience--maybe even junkies. We always need the next fix, but are never transformed by the experience.
Right.
So, this is where we come to the issue of religion. Religion is not the problem. It has become a scapegoat for us to ignore our responsibility to God and one another--you know, a mature relationship?
Sure, people abuse religion and power--but we already know that. And to say that wars are started over God and religion is only to say that we don't want to take responsibility for our own actions and in-actions. That said, I refuse to stop driving a car because of the number of bad drivers, drunk drivers, or other causes of vehicular deaths... Get my point?
Here's my point about religion. I'll use my marriage as an example.
When I married my wife, it was because we love one another, we're attracted to one another, and we get all of the 'feel-goods' and heart flutters that come with relationships. At our wedding, we invited people to hear us take vows. Those people help us to live into those vows. We took the vows because the truth is that there are times when I'm pretty tough to live with... I'm not quite as attractive as I was in my twenties. I've gotten worse about doing cute little things to commemorate stupid little events in our relationship.
I'd imagine it can get pretty tough for my wife to dig up those feel-goods when I'm short tempered, or otherwise insufferable.
Luckily for us, we have these vows. We have this covenant between the two of us, and with God and with our friends who were there to keep trying, even in the tough times.
The problem with being spiritual but not religious means that we can have as many partners as we want... When the magic of celebrating those sentimental little events lose their appeal--we go to the next fuzzy-wuzzy...
Where's the relationship? There sure as hell isn't any responsibility.
That's all for now.

Why I'm Terrible At Emergent Church Stuff...

First off, please understand that this is mostly toungue-in-cheek. So, please don't take offense. We have enough offense-taking in the Church and para-Church, Psuedo-Church world...

Anyway, I've been thinking about why I'm so terrible at participating in the emergent church movement, and I think I've devised a list of reasons. I plan to list these rather than finish my Christmas Day sermon right now...

So. Here goes. Reasons why I'm terrible at Emergent Church Stuff.

1. I have escaped Protestant Evangelicalism with very little baggage.

2. I continue to find the questions posed by popular emergent church thinkers to be answered by many ancient and early church thinkers. I suppose the issue is really a marketing one.

3. I refuse to believe that the answer has to include acoustic guitars, praise songs, or "contemporary services." I do think it has everything to do with learning why we do what we do--and if it still doesn't fit, find out how to make it fit.

4. Church never was and never will be about me. I have a relationship with Jesus Christ and therefore his Church. This also means responsibility to those relationships. It's up to me to make right what's wrong, not pout. It's not about how I feel, it's about love, loving and being loved--that's where transformation happens.

5. I think the term emergent is now irrelevant. The proverbial cat is out of the bag, and cats should not be kept in bags. The question now is how do we build something in the image of the Body of Christ without tearing it down, and without cloning something that looks like it, but isn't it. Freakin' cats...

6. I am terrible at blogging. Simple.

7. I'm paying attention, but am still not morally outraged--at least not with Church stuff. Now, there are certain brands of Christianity which can fire me up, but I think what the emergent church movement was about was saving those poor souls from those brands of Christianity which fire me up. *pause to catch breath*

8. I'm relatively young, but not hip. I wear scarves outside of their appropriate seasons and I wear t-shirts and jeans a lot. But it's not really a statement about my theology, it's just the way I like to dress. I got nothing to prove, so take that establishment!

9. Sexuality, doubt science v. religion...meh. Not really issues to me.

10. The types of soap I use do not come in the necessary packaging to hold my weight. However, I do have some pretty strong core values, and if you cross me I will probably invite you into a relaxed discussion so that I can try to understand your point of view. Don't mess with me! I will probably even provide the coffee, tea or pint.

Yes. I admit that I am an Episcopalian and to use the wrong fork is advocating anarchy. But you can trust that I'll always wave to you at the liquor store. Thanks for reading if you did.

Can Protestant Evangelicalism Cowboy Up? Or will you remain silent because Camping isn't gay?

So...we allow the consecration of an openly gay bishop,and the Protestant Evangelical world condemns us as much as possible on media. But when a guy who (at least in theory)holds weight in the Protestant Evangelical world makes wild predictions which don't come true, and the Protestant Evangelical crew is largely silent.
Okay...what the hell?
Not only has this guy been proven to be wrong and a kook and largely wrong(!), but people lost their livelihoods. Not only that, but he apparently cannot produce the financial records for how much was spent in the ad campaign for this whole fiasco. I suppose that might mean he would have to pay it all back.
Well, I guess it's all over in October, though...
In the meantime Protestant Evangelicalism...whaddya say? Think you might develop the minerals to condemn this guy? If you do, I hope he remembers to wear Kevlar like Bp. +Robinson...

I plan to be drinking a glass of Kool-Aid on May 22nd

89 year-old Harold Camping, Christian radio Broadcaster for "Family Radio" has said that May 21st, 2011 will be the date of the "Rapture." Now, the rapture, as many people know is the belief that before the end of the world that faithful believers in Jesus Christ will be drawn mystically into the air leaving the rest to be subject to judgment. Now, contrary to popular belief, this is not a widely held Christian belief. In fact, in the grand scheme of things the concept of the rapture is relatively new in the christian scope, coming about sometime in the mid 1700s by (surprise!) Puritans. Most specifically Cotton Mather made famous not for his theological prowess, rather the Salem Witch trials...spurious, I think.
Anyway, I'll leave it up to others to do the homework. All the same the thing that pisses me off is less the issue that people will believe this and do stupid tings like quit jobs, quit buying groceries, or whatever. It's their own fault for not actually reading Scripture. What really pisses me off is that Protestant Evangelicalism allows idiot like Harold Camping to hang around. Not only hang around, but broadcast his stupidity to people who would buy into it. Even now, Family Radio has a big banner with tracts explaining the rationale and way by which they came to this conclusion. Again. Spurious.
So, how does family radio, and the people who support it allow someone who is obviously not sane hang around? It's not like this is the first time he's predicted this, and we're still here. I suppose a week or so after it doesn't happen again there will be some excuse and explanation about miscalculations, et cetera. Bollocks!
And, of course, once that happens, old Harold (if he continues to live beyond 89) will be considered simply the harmless crazy uncle who comes to family meals. But where is the recourse for his actions? Who is held accountable for his ridiculous rantings once reality comes and shows him to be a fraud? Probably no one within the tradition. I suppose it's just easier to support and promote things that are abominable rather than standing up for truth.
See ya all on May 22nd.

Third Sunday of Easter

In the Episcopal Church we look to the Baptismal Covenant as a way to articulate our faith. This is because on one hand it is largely creedal, so that in it we are recalled to the historical faith which we have received from the Church. But at the same time, the Baptismal covenant also draws in both Scripture and tradition to form a kind of rule of life for living into the Christian vocation.
One particular statement in the Covenant is one which I think we can get a lot of mileage out of—“Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?”
Now, obviously this is a vow, because we immediately understand the difficulty in zeroing in on the presence of Christ in others. This is especially true for really difficult people. But this vow speaks directly to our belief that our faith is incarnational.
So, just as Jesus is the incarnation and embodiment of God, we as the Church are then called to incarnate and embody God’s redemptive love in Christ to the world.
What I think is interesting about our response to this calling is that most often we don’t easily find Christ in others. Instead, what we get is a pretty good reflection of who we are—especially with difficult people. Because depending on how honestly we live out our call to love our neighbor, we may find that Christ’s presence isn’t all that clear in us either…
But I think it is this mirror that humanity provides to us that (if we are paying attention) can call us back to faithful living. Not that we nail it every time, but that we are at least aware of who we are and who we represent.
All the same, somehow in the mystery of the Imago Dei—the Image of God that we claim—we find a more perfect picture of ourselves. At the same time, somewhere in-between the interactions we have with the “other,” we are also able to get a fuller picture of Jesus Christ.
In today’s Gospel reading, we find two disciples who I’m willing to bet were not expecting to meet Jesus. What we see, however is how they can’t stop talking about the news of his resurrection. Just in that instant, Jesus approaches them—perfect in his resurrected body, and perfect in his otherness. In response to their discussion, this “stranger” Jesus reveals all of the mysteries of the history of salvation beginning from Moses to his own resurrection. And while all of this makes sense to them, they still don’t recognize him.
The story ends, of course, with these disciples inviting Jesus in to share a meal. We can guess that they at least know him to be some kind of teacher, because he’s the one who offers the blessing. But it’s when Jesus breaks the bread that it all comes together—and the disciples immediately know who he is…
As disciples of Jesus today, we probably don’t believe that we’ll see the resurrected Christ on the road, either… But then maybe the lesson we’re meant to learn in our baptismal calling is how to not miss Christ in the stranger. And if we’re able to see Christ in the stranger, perhaps even the Christ in ourselves and in the breaking of the bread will be more fully revealed.

"The Baffled King Composing Hallelujah"

In a not-too-ironic way I’ve been listening to the song “Hallelujah.”In this case I’m referring to the song written by Leonard Cohen. I suppose that his quiet, deep voice creates (perhaps) the perfect mood for the song. All the same, there are a number of different covers of the song. One particular version by Rufus Wainwright (the version from the movie Shrek) was noted as being “purifying and almost liturgical.” Other versions, which have at times had different lyrics from the original, all have their own particular qualities. This phenomena, Cohen offers, is because “there are many different hallelujahs…”
As I write this, I listen to some of these different versions of the song. Regardless of the version, I’m struck continually by the words: “It’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah.” Maybe it’s just clever phrasing, but the song smacks of honesty. Whether there is an almost joyful air, or a soulful dirge, there is no escaping the words: “it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah.”
I think even in the midst of the Easter season, this may be a realistic cry of our hearts—one which isn’t afraid to encompass the brokenness and lack in our world. It’s the Hallelujah that breaks into the cold of a hospital room, and seems less incongruous in a hurting world. It’s a sound of praise that can be lifted by lips which mourn…but it is at the very same instant a hallelujah. And perhaps because of its honesty there is no question of its resounding praise.
Perhaps it’s an odd thing to be writing in such a somber way in the Easter Season…maybe this would have been better suited for Lent, but then I wouldn’t have been able to use the word “Hallelujah.” But at the same time, Eastertide is a time for Hallelujahs, “many different Hallelujahs.” Because from the broken to the bandaged-up Hallelujah is the song of the victorious—albeit the faulted and the hurting at the same time. It’s the song of those who would never deny Christ, but are troubled by doubting hearts. It’s the song for every condition of life, really…
So why write about broken hallelujahs in Easter? I do it because to make sense of any of the human condition, we look to Christ as the perfect victim. We look to him as the Resurrection and the Life and know that somehow in him everything will be redeemed somehow—even our sorrow—by his participating in it with us. In Christ we find solace from the storms of life, not by virtue of him being indestructible, rather because even in his resurrection he still bears the wounds of his ruination. He even holds those wounds gloriously out-stretched to welcome the prodding hands of our disbelief.
I also write in this way knowing that the mystery of our faith in Christ is far deeper and stronger than we sometimes realize. I think that we even forget that when our faith seems dim, we can trust that others will have faith for us. I think it’s because there are many different hallelujahs, and because of Christ’s love for us, even the cold and broken ones (the really earthy and honest ones) count most.