December 20, 2004

Gender

When I was a little guy younger than springtime and joining in with the family Christmas tree decoration for my first time, I remember hearing somebody talking about the male and female plugs on the tree light strings and extension cords. It was a new and puzzling idea for me.

When I finally caught on, I sort of quietly snickered, as I figured I’d really got in on something very adult. Little did I realize then how logistically critical it is to get things like that right, and that it’s no joke at all.

This is the second Christmas for Deodar (of previous OoN fame), our outdoor Indian beauty known as the “timber of the gods,” and I was reminded of those early years once again. Deodar’s over twelve feet tall now, a lot more shapely, and requires a stepladder and additional long strings of the little twinkly white lights to be decorated properly. CP is more or less too adult for my making with any sort of adolescent humor about this procedure, but she did get the gender of those light strings all lined up with no problem or side remarks.

It occurred to me, though, that maybe the president and all his moral police squad if they just want to amend something might tend to their own behavior rather than the Constitution. If they’d just concentrate, for example, on the proper gender relationship of all the many extension light cords on the National Christmas Tree, that should keep them busy enough so that they might get something right this year.

Gender, after all, though critical for extension cords, has not a lot to do with marriage which has enough to worry about just fending for itself.

December 18, 2004

Letters

The annual family Christmas letters have begun to show up in the mail. I never write them, myself, but I read them. I read them not so much out of a sense of obligation, but because we’re all connected, those writers and I. On the other hand, I don’t especially like them.

They don’t seem real. At least, they’re not like my family. We’ve not a Rhodes Scholar among us. Nobody has a six-figure salary (that I know of, anyway). Nobody’s won a scholarship or got a medal. Like at Lake Wobegon, I suppose you could say that our women are strong, our men are good looking, and our children (at least the ones we keep up with) are more or less above average. But that’s not anything to write home about.

People keep on sending them, and they all have in common the same sort of sweetness and light. I suppose I should be grateful. After all, Out of Nowhere is a kind of almost daily family letter, though void, I hope, of too much sweetness and light. And I guess I keep on writing it to you and expecting you to read it, nevertheless, no matter how the news turns. So, if you’ve got this far, thank you.

December 17, 2004

Pink Candles

NOTE TO READERS: The homilies in this space on Fridays are rarely actually preached, not by me, at any rate. The one today, however, will be preached by me, God willing, on this coming Sunday, 19 December, 2004, at St Ann’s Church, Nashville, where I have the honor of being priest associate. I’m not sure why I need to tell you this. I just wanted to. — LD
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Advent 4A

Today’s gospel is more or less about Mary, the Blessed Virgin Mary (Mt 1.18-25). She and Mary Magdalene are probably the most exemplary and underrated followers of the Way in the church’s early life or any life, for that matter.

I was going to preach about the BVM today. It wasn’t a bad sermon. It started out with the story of Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori’s Advent pastoral letter to the people in her diocese of Nevada. In it, she put down for all time the questions about the pink candle in the Advent wreath. She said it is not there because of some mysterious legend or color-coded theological hokey-pokey, it is there simply because Mary wanted a girl.

This is more or less the kind of sermon I was going to preach. Pink and sweetness and light. It wasn’t bad. But I thought, I never preach that kind of sermon. What has that got to do with our lives today?

So I want to preach about something that’s a lot more important. I want to preach about Taking Back Christianity and maybe Christmas with it. I don’t know about you, but I’m embarrassed to death to call myself a Christian these days. And I resent that. The name “Christian” has been hijacked, taken over, and practically patented by a particular sect of Christianity, and it’s been stolen right out from under me. The opportunity of being a peculiarly Anglican kind of Christian is being stolen out from under us right here in this diocese, as well, and I especially don’t like that. How dare they!

I read that this latest presidential election was decided by something called “moral values.” That is, specifically, opposition to abortion and to gay marriage. We are told that those were the two moral issues that made all the so-called Christians stand up and be counted. Christian values, Christian morals. We are told that this sort of thing won out in this election. (There’ve been polls to the contrary since then, polls that show a deeper sense of morality, the kind I want to talk about, but electoral results don’t show much evidence of their influence.)

Well, the ones that are claimed to have won the election are not my Christian morals, and I don’t want to be that kind of Christian. I don’t want a name that implies that I think or feel or believe like people who make these their highest values or fears. There are many kinds of Christianity out there, some actually in contention with one another, and there always have been. The Religious Right wing, the fundamentalists, the zealots, the anti-intellectual evangelicals, the creationists, the biblical literalists have a lot of nerve trying to claim that their very narrow brand of Christianity is the only one.

I say that it is time that Christians who believe in and follow and actually live by the teachings of Jesus and frame their lives by the Baptismal Covenant or a reasonable facsimile — that it’s time these Christians reclaim the name “Christian” and stop being coopted by persons who have little knowledge, understanding, or practical application of Christian principles in their own lives.

Now, I know it’s not polite, nor politically correct to talk like that. It’s not discreet. Here in the Episcopal Church, we’re always face-to-face with the fact that the great Anglican sin is not murder or betraying your country or even apostasy, but indiscretion. We’ve been taught all our lives never to say anything too harsh about other religions or other religious people. We must do and say anything for the sake of the unreal idea of “Unity,” so that we can keep everyone in the fold, no matter what they believe or do.

Not long ago, we had a good old evangelical Archbishop of Canterbury who said and did totally stupid things, but at least you knew where he stood. Now we have a good old liberal Archbishop of Canterbury, an intellectual one — one who actually reads books. But he has seemed so terrified of speaking his conscience that he has allowed a tiny group of African and fringe-nation bishops to dominate the entire Anglican Communion.

The fact that these bishops are who they are prevents one from pointing out the truth that they — and maybe by no fault of their own — are often theologically unsophisticated, socially regressive, and very happy quite publicly to accept expensive gifts and large sums of money from the small but wealthy rearguard traditionalists of the Episcopal Church here in this country all in exchange for working everybody into a lather about the consecration of Gene Robinson.

I know. We’re not supposed to say that either. And Gene Robinson isn’t supposed to say that he’s gay. It’s OK that he is gay as long he just lies about it as thousands of other gay clergy have lied about it down through the centuries. Whatever you do, don’t tell the truth! Well, I want to tell the truth. I’m tired of counting the angels dancing on the heads of pins while our culture collapses around us.

Real Christians have to stand up and say, “Morality? This is what you call morality? You’ve got to be kidding!” Real Christians have to point out that “Christian” means “someone who follows the example and teachings of Jesus,” not “someone who will swallow whatever a preacher will tell them.” Real Christians have to take this book that everyone keeps referring to, this Bible, and actually read it and find out what those teachings are.

In the book, Jesus never said a word about abortions. Some Christians oppose aborting a fetus that cannot even live on its own, but this deeply held conviction did not prevent millions of good, life-respecting Christians from voting to continue an unprovoked and falsely justified war of aggression that has killed tens of thousands of perfectly innocent men, women, and children who were already living. I think Jesus for sure would not have liked this.

In this book that none of us read often enough, Jesus never says one word about homosexuality. It probably never even crossed his mind. As a matter of fact, Jesus very seldom talked about “thou shalt nots,” about terrible things you weren’t supposed to do. His morality was about what you were supposed to do. He was crystal clear about the “thou shalts.”

According to Jesus, this is morality: Feed the poor. There are about twelve million people in our country who worry daily about whether they will have food, not just enough, but any. Jesus said, comfort the prisoners — and that probably includes not torturing or shooting them or hooking them up to the base plug. He said, accept the outcast — the alien, the different, the single mother, the street person, the Muslim. He said, shelter the homeless and stop creating more of them. He said, be good stewards and shepherds and stop raping the environment. He said, depend on God, not on wealth and don’t greedily collect it at the expense of the poor. He said, treat others as you would have them treat you. And he said, fight for justice.

This is the morality Jesus taught. This is Christian morality. This is what “good” Christians endeavor to do. Everything else is self-righteous claptrap and proof-texting of the old Hebrew Scriptures and unworthy of the adjective “Christian.”

Morality? Murder and violent aggression are immoral. Allowing people to wallow in poverty is immoral. Raising children to hate others for any reason is immoral. Rewarding the rich and greedy is immoral. Lying is immoral. Suspending basic human rights is immoral. Torturing prisoners is immoral. How dare the supporters of a list of atrocities like these claim to be voting for morality?

I’ll tell you why they claim it. They think they’re “moral” because their priests and pastors and preachers and bishops tell them they are. These insecure and often power-hungry leaders feed on people’s basest fears, they prey on the weak, they threaten true believers with hell on earth and hell afterward. Now, that’s immoral! It doesn’t matter that most of it is lies. It doesn’t matter that the preachers and priests and pastors and bishops have proven to be a dismally badly behaved bunch themselves. It doesn’t matter that the churches are temples to greed and self-indulgence and self-righteousness and fancy silken vestments.

These people have been allowed to claim the title “Christian” because we have done nothing to stop them. Too many of us have chosen good manners over fighting for justice, and now we have to face the fact that we have lost Christianity. We have handed it over, lock, stock, and barrel.

We act viscerally, we are easily swayed, we don’t want to look too closely at the consequences of our actions. We find it hard to follow Jesus’ commands — and rightly so. We pick and choose our moral positions to make ourselves most comfortable. But since there’s one thing we’re always moral about — being polite — we don’t speak out against the theft of Christianity right here under our noses, we don’t want to tell the harsh truth about the hijackers of morality, we don’t dare mention that the emperor has no clothes. We think we have taken the high road by doing this when what we have taken is a dead-end to nowhere.

Read the book. Listen to what Jesus says. Do the right thing. And speak out. Rise up and take back Christianity, so that we can be proud to be Christians again. Talk loudly and often about real Christian morals. Practice them conspicuously. Incarnate the Baptismal Covenant in your lives. Refuse to be intimidated when bigotry and fear and power-hunger drape themselves in the robe of morality. Apply your morality to your life and your votes. It is not just a nation and a system of constitutional government at stake, it is the future of Christianity and the ethical face of tomorrow’s world. If we don’t stand up and take back Christianity, we can hardly expect our children to.

It’s time to take it back! And to do that we’re going to have to “get real.” A small example: There probably isn’t a one of us here at St Ann or at-large around us in our families and friends who doesn’t know that this is an inclusive parish that welcomes all people. Look around you. You probably cannot find a single soul in this congregation who doesn’t have more than a passing acquaintance with suffering or with serving another in any number of selfless ways or who has not been judged unfairly for who they are or who has not given sacrificially or who has not thought of leaving in disgust over some of the church’s self-serving shenanigans, but has vowed and prayed to stay and give and serve, anyway.

It is commonly said that preaching a sermon like this in a place like this is just “preaching to the choir.” In a way, that’s true. But this is a distinctive congregation of the baptised that knows and continues to learn and pray about the meaning of covenant and servant leadership. It is a rare place, and it has never been needed more in the life of this church than it is now. We and our rector and our vestry have a monumental and rich and rewarding ministry already at hand and immediately ahead in these critical days and years. Jesus said, of course, that the gates of hell will not finally prevail. But we’ll lose one of the more exciting and challenging opportunities of our lifetime if we don’t join in the barricade.

Now that you know why we have a pink candle in the Advent wreath, go, and tell it on the mountain!

December 16, 2004

Symbols

The time was sun-up and halfpast the top of a cup of coffee. We were sitting in the windowed library end of the kitchen looking out. The hawk landed just outside with a dove in tow and promptly started to make it his breakfast. He began with efficiency and dispatch, the dove offering as much resistance as possible under the circumstances, but not for long.

Strange how these symbols of war and peace have come into our vocabulary, the hawks most always the dominant, the doves simply no match. Yet, they continue side by side in the same yard, as it were, ever vigilant, unaware of the futility and perhaps even the necessity of it all.

A large yellow cat wandered up on this scene outside the windows, and the hawk promptly flew, prey in claws.

December 15, 2004

Chestnuts

Our jazz band steers away from the usual so-called Christmas music. We play in a shopping mall, anyhow, and although we could improve on the common PA fare, there’s not much use competing.

We usually play the old Mel Tormé chestnut once or twice and a more or less swinging version of “Jingle Bells.” Actually, we also play that great and literally unsung tune “The Christmas Waltz,” but in four/four Count Basie time just to see if anybody notices. The only one who does is our piano man who is something of a purist and strongly resists this sort of foolishness with what’s meant to be in three/four time.

I haven’t tried to introduce the band to Advent music. But we have turned an old standard into a Christmas tune and dedicated it to the BVM. Maybe you’ll remember it. It’s called “I’ve Found A New Baby.”

December 14, 2004

Edge

The cosmologists tell us that if we look through the great Hubble telescope coasting weightlessly somewhere out there in orbit, not only may we see all the way to the edge of space, but to the edge of time, as well.

Space and time, we learn, are actually created in such a way that one simply may not exist apart from the other.

This new season of Advent returns each year — quietly, gently, and with few if any shopping malls dedicated to its cause. But it always recalls for me something in our human becoming, our maturing, something that is very similar to these notions about time and space.

Advent rings changes on two great biblical themes of expectation: Mary’s baby and John Baptiser’s anxiety. It points to the mysterious union of matter and spirit caught up in the saving event of Christmas, the event which brings these themes into focus.

What is created in the image of God is, as well, redeemed in the image of God, assuring us that finally, in a way very similar to what we’ve learned about God’s universe, never again need we separate the one from the other.

December 13, 2004

Commandments

Some people have life commandments or admonitions that they live with forever, things that got drilled into them at an early age, and that they never forget. Years later whenever they break one or go a bit astray, they can’t help but feel a tinge of guilt.

Finish your meal. Remember the starving Armenians. Wait until your father gets home. I’m doing this for your own good. Because I said so. Don’t eat with your elbows on the table.

One of mine was always to put the cap back on after using the toothpaste and before brushing my teeth. I always thought that commandment — since it came during the Great Depression — was probably to avoid wasting toothpaste. I guess I think of it nearly every time I brush my teeth now all these years later.

I left the cap off (again) the other day and accidentally knocked it into the sink. Down it went and stopped up the drain. The plumber cost seventy-five bucks. I sure hate it when my parents turn out to be right about something.

December 10, 2004

Pointing

Advent 3A

There is always an element of uncertainty in a life of faith.

Faith makes for open minds. And open minds are not only marked by curiosity, they are also marked by risk. Curiosity and risk are two of the hallmarks of a faithful life. To make faith into a closed system, nailed down in some century long past and for all time, is not faith, but dogma. It has its place. It is safe. There is little or no risk. Religions thrive on it. But it is not faith.

Even that clarion of certainty, John, the Baptist, finally had his moment of zen there in that prison when he sent his followers to ask Jesus, “Art thou he that should come? Or do we seek another?” Are you the one? Or do we have to keep waiting — and looking? (Mt 11.2-11) John spent his entire life, if we’re to believe his mom, pointing to Jesus and taking the risk of faith.

When John finally got prison for his reward and entertained a healthy moment of doubt, Jesus understood. He answered John in effect with what John already knew. He answered John with the only truthful answers that can ever be given to certify the presence and work of Jesus, the Christ.

The work you have already witnessed, he said to John, continues. Be assured. The blind see. The lame walk, The deaf hear. The poor now hear and know the gospel of justice and peace. A broken world is being healed, and wherever that healing takes place, we and John can know for sure, there is present the kingdom of God.

We make covenant in our baptism to “seek and serve Christ in all persons… ” And we may well and fairly ask, “Yes, but how will I know this Christ?” It is the same question John asked, for our baptism not only commissions us to be Christians, it commissions us to John’s ministry, as well. It is a ministry to witness, to point, to say Here, There is the Christ, in this event, in that healing, in that judgment, in that moment of truth.

Civil rights leader Howard Thurman set the stage for us to know this Christ when he wrote of this Advent and Christmas season of hope that “When the song of the angels is stilled. When the star of the sky is gone. When the kings and princes are home. When the shepherds are back with their flocks. The work begins… To find the lost. To heal the broken. To feed the hungry. To rebuild the nations. To bring peace among people. To make music in the heart.”

It is a ministry made even more difficult because — as Jesus said — there will be and there are “false Christs” who would lead us astray. There are “Christs” who would justify war, who would substitute piety for service, who would put orthodoxy before sacrifice, who would make the gospel a system or a philosophy rather than the Way of life.

When we make that vow in our baptism to seek and serve Christ, when we ask that question with John, Are you the one? we soon discover that we are not only part of the answer, we are the answer. In this present time in the church… we can’t just be given the answer, we must be the answer. For it is the Christ in us that will always recognize the Christ in all.

December 9, 2004

Limits

A priest was deposed this week. The notice of it came as a stern, official memo to us all — the Presiding Bishop on up and down — stark in its simplicity, signed by names surrounded with a bevy of pluses lest no one of us fail to be aware that a bishop and his fellow presbyters had spoken and a sparrow had fallen.

He was young, arrogant, handsome, promising, was the priest. I hardly knew him, and instantly when first I met him, I did not like him. But I did know and have learned painfully that whenever that happens, there’s a better than average chance that I have met something of myself.

We are both addicts. He used his addiction to commit a felony. I used mine to take the twelve-steps. We’ll probably never know why it was not the other way around. The sheer, translucence that separates the two directions we took may simply be a glass like that of which St Paul spoke and through which we can see only darkly.

I am diminished and crippled by the arbitrary and smugly canonical rightness that strangles the grace that once set apart this young priest whom I did not like. For God loves him no less, nor me for the limits of my incapability.

December 8, 2004

Des(s)ert

Okay, so ambrosia (OoN 7xii04) is a dessert, and the Sahara is a desert, and precious few of our devoted readers pointed out that fact so far. Thank you. The reminders were subtle and gentle, but I may never get it straight.

Anyhow, apparently it’s not an isolated phenomenon. December’s “American Libraries Journal” tells about a Miami artist who built a $40,000 mosaic 16 feet in diameter for the Livermore (Calif) Public Library that included 175 historical names and cultural words. Among the eleven of them misspelled are “Eistein” and “Shakespere.” For an extra $6,000 plus travel, she agreed to come out and fix the damage, but not until after the critics have calmed down.

I do that sort of thing free under relatively calm criticism, and the travel is on me.