Christian Peacemaking Workshop

What is Christian Peacemaking?

Holy Cross Lutheran in Bellevue invites you to a round table discussion, "What is Christian Peacemaking?" on Saturday, January 30th from 8 - 10 a.m. at Holy Cross Lutheran, 4315 129th Pl SE, Bellevue.

Based on materials produced and distributed by the Lutheran Peace Fellowship, the discussion will expose and examine the various myths and stereotypes regarding peacemaking. By doing so, this session will help participants respond to the gift and call of Jesus' way of shalom. Glen Gersmehl, national coordinator of Lutheran Peace Fellowship will facilitate the discussion.

The Lutheran Peace Fellowship is a community of Christians across the U.S. and around the globe responding to the gospel call to be peacemakers and justice seekers. Based in Seattle since 1994, it offers workshops and forums, support for fellowship, brochures and other materials, and support for education and dialogue on issues of war and peace, justice and non-violence. For more information on the Lutheran Peace Fellowship, visit their website at www.lutheranpeace.org.

This roundtable is one of a series of discussions hosted and facilitated by Holy Cross Lutheran of Bellevue. For more information, call 425.746.4848.

Christmas Truce in Seattle

Being back in Seattle, I thought I might start organizing peace and justice concerts and events again - my little votes for a more assertive peace church personality for my local congregation (and denomination). I was playing songs for my daughter about the incredible "Christmas Truce" on the Western Front of World War I in 1914, when I realized that this year is the 95th anniversary of that belief-defying night.

On Christmas Eve, 1914, soldiers on both sides along the trenches from Flanders to the Swiss Frontier spontaneously and almost universally negotiated with each other an informal "truce" for the night. In the night, soldiers from both sides came out from their trenches and met each other in No Man's Land, exchanged greetings, cigarettes, and trinkets. Carols were sung, improvised Christmas Trees decorated, contraband liquor shared. The next morning, the truce miraculously held, and each side gathered the dead from the battlefield and buried them together side-by-side. In many places, the truce lasted past New Year's Eve, by when of course Generals and Colonels had heard about this treasonous truce negotiated without their consent - and were taking steps to stop it (replacing and moving regiments about that had participated in the truce so that they were facing troops along the trenches that they hadn't met and comisserated with over the holidays). And WWI went on. But not without a profound note of the possibility of Peace being heard across a continent mobilized for war.

I am organizing a celebration of the 95th anniversary of this momentous event, and it seems the stars are aligned, because so much is coming into place so quickly. West Seattle Neighbors for Peace and Justice is on board for helping with promotion and logistics. The Seattle Labor Chorus has eagerly agreed to participate. The Seattle Peace Chorus is considering amending their already-busy holiday schedule to include the event. I have a readers theater piece about the event almost fully cast with fine readers. I have a sound system lined up to use. Organizations and other local events are very cooperative in advertizing and promoting the celebration. People are coming out of the woodwork to help. And just today I received a cd of a singer who performs one of the best songs about the 1914 truce - and he wants to play at the event.

I am giddy with excitement and amazed that this event is coming together with so little time to be put together. Somebody must want us to celebrate peace, I tell ya!

The event, if you'd like to come, will be at the Highland Park Community of Christ (8611 11th Ave SW, Seattle), at 7PM, December 24th (Christmas Eve). It will tell the story of the Christmas Truce in narrative, letters, songs and images from the period. There will be an opportunity for other local peace and justice organizations to set up tables for people to look at and learn more about them. There will be no charge for the event.

I'll try to post updates as the event develops. Needless to say, I am thrilled to death about this, and can't wait until Christmas Eve! :-)

Back in the Saddle Again

Well, that didn't take long...

Our old home church in Highland Park was short a "guest minister" for this coming Sunday, so they scraped the bottom of the barrel and asked me.

Ridin' the range once more

That's right, fans, I will be preaching this Sunday, in West Seattle. The theme: Speak Boldly. Oh yes... yes, I will.

Totin' my old .44

The Old Testament has 44 books in it (well, almost). The scripture for this Sunday? The story of Esther, a daring heroine who saves the Jewish people from disaster in Persia!

Where you sleep out every night, and the only law is right

Esther is practically a Marxist dramedy (seriously!). It is one of the only books in the Bible not to mention God at all (really!). It is fraught with tension, irony and humor (no, really!). The collaborationist bourgeoisie get their comeuppance (well, they get hanged), and the ruling class is a pawn of their own vanity and the conspiracies of capitalist climbers, and in the end the workers come out on top (well, they survive at least).

Back in the saddle again.

Yeehaw! That's right, folks, the greatest show on earth is BACK! (And, besides the Puyallup Fair, I'm preaching, too!)

Seriously, if you have any inkling, you're more than invited (I mistyped "incited" just now... hmmm) to come.

Show starts at 11AM at 8611 11th Avenue SW, Seattle WA 98106.

And who knows, afterward lunch buffet at Maharaja?!

Seattle's Labor History

Part of my heart still resides in Seattle, and many of my loyalties still with the labor movement. And in the wake of the closure of the generaly-labor-friendly newspaper in Seattle, my respect for the local alternative culture magazine has risen. So when a friend and nominal anarchist (and, it must be said, a punk rock afficionado and the happy-hour activity coordinator for our circle of friends - yes, we have one) sent me a link to this article in The Stranger, I remembered a little of why I am on this journey in the first place. Thanks, Nic.
The State of Our Unions: A Look at Seattle's Deep, Bloody Labor History - and Its Uncertain Future. (http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/the-state-of-four-unions/Content?oid=1393334)

The End of Christian America?

We can only hope.

A terribly sinful friend, who is surely lost to the eternal fires of hell, sent me an interesting link today. http://www.newsweek.com/id/192583?GT1=43002 A Newsweek article about what it means that 10% fewer Americans identify themselves as Christians than 20 years ago. Interesting.

And, as for Jon, my wayward, doomed friend... thanks for the link!

Easter Bullettin Inserts

Now available from the Peace Support Network!

Easter Bulletin Inserts - Six weeks of inter-generational, print-ready bulletin inserts are now available here - http://www.peacesupportnetwork.org/papers4.cfm Tell the story of Jesus' ministry while promoting peace and justice. Please download and use these wonderful resources in your services. (Thank you to volunteer Marge Nelson for creating these positive resources which follow the World Church weekly themes, beginning March 1.)

Armstrong's The Bible: A Biography

Author Karen Armstrong has always seemed very fair, even generous, in her presentation of multiple, contrasting viewpoints. The Bible, in this same sense, does not disappoint.

In fact, if anything, the underlying agenda of Armstong's greater body of work in comparative religion and religious histories comes shining through in this book. Armstong in her books goes to great lengths to see the best in all viewpoints, to recognize integrity, honesty and context in every perspective - even ones she (or her readers) might disagree with - and treating ones with which her readers might agree with no less integrity or greater respect. Having read several of Armstrong's books, I think an "agenda" can be discerned: Armstrong believes that if we understand each other fairly and listen to each other generously, we can get along marvelously, and that even the most difficult questions and disagreements can be opportunities for growing in love with each other.

Armstrong says almost as much herself in the Epilogue of The Bible: "If we truly want to undertand the other, we have to assume that he or she is speaking the truth."

That being said, The Bible is an good overview of Biblical history. It moves through history at a lightning pace, hardly stopping for breath. It is a surprisingly quick read (I picked it up at an airport and read it in a weekend), and all the major Biblical historical periods, figures and movements are explained clearly and consisely. Almost too consisely at times - I wonder how much readers will get out of certain parts of it, who aren't already familiar with the material from previous study. But in this kind of introductory book covering nearly six-thousand years of ver diverse and intricate history, some summaries must be made.

Armstrong does a good job of lifting up major figures and important events in the life of the Bible, and I have always appreciated her ability to fairly capture a perspective on its own terms and yet also offer helpful, insightful commentary for the interested present-day reader. Her writing is very readable, and this text would be well suited for personal or group reading - especially among lay persons and others who might not have much scholarly experience with Biblical studies. The book would also be good for a group of mixed-level readers, as there are more than enough strings to follow if one is inspired to know more, but additional reading isn't necessary for enjoying the book and finding it useful.

I think the book would be particularly helpful for USAmerican readers, who are often caught in cultural, religio-political spasms without an appreciation of the historical place or forces at play. One unstated motive for Armstrong's biography (one in a series of "books that changed the world" from Grove Press) may be to combat the cultural phenomenon of seeing the Bible as one book that is claiming to be scientifically correct. The Bible by its very subject matter reveals the history of the Bible - its composition, interpretation, perception and use - to be incredibly varied.

The way the Bible is sometimes perceived and described in today's culture wars is not the way the Bible has always been seen, and isn't in keeping with the intentions of the narrative, its writers, or use throughout the centuries. The book, in lifting up how every age reads and presents the Bible according to its own expectations, shows that even today's post-Enlightenment orthodoxy of fact-as-truth is a lens through which we see the Bible, not as the Bible actually is. Our "scientific" expectations ask the wrong questions, set up the wrong expectations of the Bible. It's no wonder the Bible is so disappointing under these conditions! Armstrong doesn't shrink from the difficult or contradictory parts of the Bible - in fact, at times they provide the greatest impetus for commentary and creativity.

The Bible, as history, does what history at its best often does: it opens up possibilities for the future. It reminds us of the incredible variety of perspectives and convictions, offers us forgotten insights, remembers lessons learned, points out what we might otherwise overlook. In so doing, The Bible is a story of humanity, at once a history of Western civilization and the story of multiple parallel and layered understandings of what it means to be most fully human and in relationship to the Divine.

While not a scholarly book, The Bible is a book with breadth and insight, compassion and information, history and wonder. I came away from reading it feeling a deeper appreciation for the Bible as a tool in and reflection of our cultural circumstances. And for the many lessons, observations and stories peppered throughout the text, it is certainly worth the reading. But I think reading The Bible is most valuable as an example of that kind of work Armstrong would have us all do more of: applying the principle of charity toward others. In the words of linguist Donald Davidson (whom Armstrong quotes in the Epilogue):

Making sense of the utterance and behavior of others, even their most aberrant behaviors, requires you to find a great deal of truth and reason in them.

Armstrong deals charitably with all of us, and so does us a great service, enabling us to deal charitably with others - even our varied enemies.

Deliver us from amnesia

God of peace,
God of justice,
God of freedom,

We give thanks for your cadences of peace, justice, and freedom,
Cadences that have surged through the lives
of Martin,
and Ralph,
and Rosa,
and John,
and Fred,
and Hosea,
and Jesse,
and Andy,
and all that nameless mass of risk-takers who have been
obedient to your promises
and susceptible to your dreams.

Deliver us from amnesia
concerning their courage in the face of violence,
their peace-making against hate,
and their hunger for you in a devouring economy.

Deliver us from amnesia:
turn our memory into hope,
turn our gratitude into energy,
turn our well-being into impatience.

That these same cadences of your will may pulse even among us.
Amen.

-Walter Brueggemann
prayer after Martin Luther King Day, 1999

Why Religion At All?

I was having a discussion with a friend recently - a friend who has been reading a lot of books in the "New Atheism" movement. (I don't know why they call it "New Atheism" - except that perhaps it's a new movement, a resurgence or renaissance.) And perhaps it's the fact that we share so many sympathies on the subject that I found it difficult to answer her questions the way she seemed to want me to. None of my answers were apparently getting at her fundamental question. So she sent me away from the discussion with something to think about: why have religion at all? Wouldn't our efforts and energies be more constructively placed elsewhere?

It got me to thinking.

Even if we take the most natualistic definition or description of "God" - God being the experience of neurons firing in our heads and our brains being bathed with certain chemicals as a result (as some recent articles have suggested, our brains might be hard-wired to come up with the idea of God) - that doesn't mean that the experience isn't valid or even helpful. It is much the same thing as love - our brains doing certain things with certain data, causing emotional and intellectual reactions, moving us to do (or avoid doing) certain things. Even knowing this, the most convinced neuroscientist doesn't give up on Love.

But the question is not about "God" - whatever that is or how it is experienced. The question is about religion: is it necessary or helpful for people to become the best they can be - as individuals and as a communal whole.

Obviously, this critique (in part) is reacting to the enormous and horrific narrow-mindedness of various fundamentalisms and the religiously-infused history of the 20th century. The Holocaust was committed by Christians as Christians, capitalizing on centuries of Christian anti-semitism. World War I saw every country - on each side - declaring God on their side, with the attendant implicit divine blessing on unthinkable death and destruction. The New Atheist critique is also laying claim to the Human Rights culture that has been growing since the 18th century and has oftentimes been explicitly beyond religious distinctions in its call for fair treatment of all people. (Curiously, the New Atheists don't lay much blame for the horrors of the past at the feet of nationalism, capitalism, imperialism or colonialism. But that might just be too broad a front to engage the world on. And, it must be said, the New Atheists are English-speakers from the Northern Hemisphere, whose nations and cultures are steeped in capitalist rhetoric of "freedom" being equated with "buying power.")

I will have to save a larger discussion of this for another post - or perhaps a book - but I do believe that American Christianity deserves this New Atheist critique. Religion in the Western world (Christianity, Islam and Judaism) has been astoundingly complicit in (if not outrightly encouraging) nationalism, prejudice and violence. We have directed enormous resources at our own comfort while neglecting (if not capitalizing) on the suffering of others - most horrifically when our comfort comes at the expense of others. New Atheism raises some profound and legitimate questions that Christians (my community) should take seriously - searching inside and among ourselves for a Christ-like response rather than reacting in fear and offense, and continuing to ignore the fundamental premise of their complaint. (Recognizing that the Christ-like response might be to change the way we are acting, speaking or thinking.) With American Christianity the way it is, I can't blame anyone for wanting to be an atheist. The questions resonates inside me deeply: why be religious at all?

To begin an answer, let me start with the analogy I mentioned earlier: love. Is it necessary for love (both the neurological "happening" and the experience of love in people's lives) that we have ritualized behaviors and communal expectations? Of course not. People can feel love without dating or marriage, monogamy or... whatever. I must admit that my partner and I decided to get married (almost five years ago now) without knowing precisely why - but that I have found our marriage to be profoundly moving and formative for me. I have been made a better person by my marriage in ways I never imagined or was aware of - and part of that was, honestly, giving myself over to the convention of the ritual relationship, and exploring my new personhood within it. But my partner and I certainly don't begrudge any of our friends or family who don't get married, who only date or live together, or have even decided against romantic relationships for the present. We also don't begrudge our friends and family who have gotten married - and for most, marriage has served them well, while others not quite as well. I can imagine a person who has neither the need for nor would be helped by "marriage" or even monogamy - who can have healthy, honest, full relationships with people in ways that I am unaware or incapable of. My way of being in relationship is not the only right way. I don't think for a moment that "marriage" is necessary for love, or for a person to fully actualize themselves, or to grow in compassion toward others, or for a thousand other virtues that flower from healthy intimate relationships.

Is it necessary for people to participate in an organized religion in order to find fulfillment and become healthy individuals? Of course not. I can imagine someone being healthy and dynamic, self-aware and challenged, compassionate and sensing a call to profound generosity and vulnerability, without being taught or encouraged to within a ritualized framework. Those people, I would probably find enviable.

I am not nearly so strong, creative, self-aware or self-challenging. To be honest, if it were up to me, I would probably spend most of my existence comfortably within my own prejudices, feeling a sense of distant concern for the poorer situation of others but that's about it, and would likely find my own righteous indignation adequate for sustaining my views about myself and my world. I would likely be quite comfortable not holding myself within a community that demands critical introspection, not being held accountable by a community, or wrestling with a tradition and the inheritance of millions of lives before mine. I feel like a pretty ritualistic person, so I'd probably come up with my own significant ritual acts - but there would be little basis for me to share these with others or invite their participation in them with me. But, if I didn't have religion in general - and progressive, peace-church Christianity in particular - I just wouldn't have the personal hutzpah or gumption to really set myself to work on these tasks. And I'd be a worse person for it.

In the end, I'd have to say that religion isn't necessary for a full and happy life. I'm just saying I couldn't do it. By being a participant (and now a minister) in a Christian community, I am opened up to challenges and ways of being that I don't think I would have were I not here. (I also think most everyone could benefit from being in a union. And, really, I probably begrudge people not being union more than I begrudge anyone being irreligious.) I also wonder if people who haven't been brought up in a religious community - or who's experiences have been markedly different than mine, even - can't know what they're missing.

I've been both religious and secular in my life, been both theist and atheist, and I like myself better as a minister in this particular Christian peace church. It isn't that I just "feel better" - sometimes being a Christian fills me with profound sadness and awareness of suffering, and being a Christian also denies me easy answers to many of life's truly difficult questions. I am constantly pushed outside my prejudices and self-centered thinking. I am pulled to engage with, feel for, and perhaps even love people that I don't like, don't care being around, and disagree with. (I don't always do very well at this, it must be said. But forgiveness and grace are also Christian tenets.)

I don't like it when religions - Christianity in particular (since it is my larger community - teach prejudice and superiority. When someone is religious, or admits to a belief in God (not necessarily the same thing), one thing that can signify is that they are confessing they don't know everything, that there is more that they are subject to than they can know or explain, but that they feel it nonetheless. To use the word "God" can oftentimes do one of two things: it can open people up or close them off, it can say 'I am seeking the truth' or it can say 'I have the truth,' it can mean 'I am open to connection and genuine growth' or it can mean 'I am right and if you don't agree with me then you are at best misguided and at worst evil.' I cannot express strongly enough my disdain for religion that does the latter - and I assume it is to this variety that the New Atheism is responding. And there's plenty of that kind of religion around - it seems they own most of the television channels and radio stations, have the biggest churches and promote retrograde politics. I wish the New Atheists good luck in their quest to break the hold of this kind of religion on people's minds and hearts.

But there is also the kind of religion that opens people up, that seeks to love and grow, and seeks to change the world not to be more like 'us', but to be more like a generous, just and loving God would want it to be. And there as many different kinds of being faithful to that kind of God as there are ways of loving. Religion isn't necessary for that to happen. But for some of us it really, really helps. For me, it is indispensible.

The Island Church

The church and parsonage building where I live in Rotterdam is - like every place in the Netherlands - virtually surrounded by water. There are canals on almost all sides, and not your rinky-dink trenches, mind you, but full on Venetian canals. Access to the church can only be had by walking one narrow strip of land.

Can you start to see the problem?

The Netherlands is already secular enough to make it difficult for anyone to want to come to even the nationally-supported Dutch Reformed Church, let alone a strange and foreign import church from America. But in addition to that, you can't actually get to the church except across an out-of-the-way spit of land.

Now, you could say that this is a metaphor for walking the narrow road that scripture mentions. But this is church, not heaven, we're talking about. As far as the church was concerned, Jesus seemed much more interested in gathering all kinds of people in, and that would require a pretty broad road, or at least multiple points of access.

Frankly speaking, the church can't afford to be inaccessible. It has enough going against it these days that it shouldn't be getting in its own way. The geographic placement of the building actually works against the church's mission to be in the world and converting the nations.

Now, I sympathize with the saints in Rotterdam. They inherited the building from their forebears. They didn't build it. Even their forebears didn't build, truth be told - the denomination leadership decided to build a European HQ, and they chose the design. The building is perfect for the 50's theology and self-image of the church then - "we are the true church; if you want to know the truth, you have to come to us. Our doors are open (over here)." It isn't so good for our 21st century ecumenical sensibilities. But it is the building we have.

It isn't so different a problem than has much of mainline Christianity these days.

How does one minister from an island? You go off-island. But what do you do with all the infrastructure anchored in the old space? Is it best to simply abandon the accomplishments, efforts and resources of previous generations just because they are inconvenient for us?

How can we get off-island - both literally and metaphorically - and build transformative relationships that could bring people into a transforming community. I think the key is to think of church differently.

Church isn't where the frontline ministry takes place anymore. The primary location of transformative ministry is in personal relationships - friendships, family ties, pastoral relationships, and even professional interactions. The actual church building and weekly (?) church service is for energizing and guiding the faith journeys of people during the week in their relationships.

Perhaps we shouldn't be measuring congregations by how many people are in attendance on a Sunday, but by how many people are being touched in transformative relationship throughout the week, directed by those who are in Sunday services. At the same time, however, attendance at church is an indicator of whether or not you are offering something that people need.

I guess, in the end, the island church has to offer something so much better than the world around it and competing interests, that people consider the extra effort worth it.

Pics from Dokkum, Netherlands

Christie and I visited Dokkum - a small city in Friesland, the Northern part of the Netherlands. It is the location of the matyrdom of St. Boniface, who famously lifted his Bible as his only defense against the axe-blows of his enemies. The museum and chapel was closed for the winter, but the city was adorable regardless.

We also toured some of "Terpeland" - where the centers of villages (usually where the churches were) were raised onto little hills ("terps") where people could flee the floods resulting from high-tides and winter storms in the days before dikes.

And finally, we visited a random memorial - a monument on the site of the first Mormon baptisms in the Netherlands, back in 1869. By funny coincidence, not five kilometers from this little monument is the largest congregation of Community of Christ in the whole Netherlands. Coincidence, or conspiracy?! (*cue dramatic music*)

All in all, a wonderful day, and a much needed break from Seminary paper writing. Many thanks to our hosts, Kees & Lukke! Enjoy the slideshow!

January 8, 37

It is cold. We're all hungry, dirty, embarrassed and poor. Frankly, I'm close to being done with all this. It's either feast or famine with this guy - crowds one day, empty graveyards the next; miracles and praise one day, getting run out of town on a rail the next. What kind of messiah is this? What kind of resistance movement, or holiness movement, or... anything, are we starting here?

I've spent too many nights away from my wife, my children haven't had a father or food for two years now... and if this is all for naught... I can't do this anymore.

I am beginning to hate him. I can't rely on him to lead or even to give us direction, let alone food or shelter or an occasional bath! Hell, I'd be able to forgive failure if we had something we were definitely working for, if we had a concrete vision. But all we've been doing is wandering around - sometimes moving people, sometimes not, but not gaining any momentum or gathering any forces, not organizing or mobilizing people. We're no closer to seeing Zion freed than when we started - and I'm sick of it.

But I'm still here.

Why?

Honestly, I don't know. I'd hate to say it was just habit now; or that I can't face my family or friends again after having run out on them and abandoned them for two years now. But is that all? Is that all?

It may be feast or famine, but the feasts are so good - at times it seems that people around him could do anything. We really could change the world! Even if that doesn't hold - there's something there. Something I can't so easily leave - even if I don't always believe.

Written recently as an exercise in Seminary.

"Mission" as Neo-Colonialism?

I spent the last two and-a-half weeks in Europe, meeting most of my staff and co-workers and beginning to become acquainted with some of the local lay leaders of our church across Europe. It was a tremendous tour, and a lot could be said about it. But there's one thing in particular... (of course).

My denomination is just starting to talk about "mission" - and has even re-named regional administrative units "Mission Centers." But the "Europe Mission Center" has consistently declined using that term in reference to itself, preferring simply "the Europe church." You see, Europe has had enough of "mission-talk."

Europe is made of of former-Empires: the Netherlands, France, Germany, Spain, Hungary, Russia, and so on. To their credit, when they look at their histories, even discussion of their respective "Golden Ages" (when they were at the peak of their imperial expanse) is trimmed with shame at the arrogance of imperialism and colonialism, embarrassment for their exploitation and oppression of other peoples, and a self-consciousness about even historical talk of military, racial or ideological superiority. To the European Christians in our church, "mission" sounds too much like a re-birth of this ancient vice.

Mission and missionaries are language that harkens to a period in Christianity (specifically European and American Christianity) where "civilization" and "European-style Christianity" were considered the same - and the spread of "our culture" went hand in hand with the gospel and the sword. Religious conversion (or corraling) was most often the first step in economic expansion, likely in the form of exploitation of labor and resources, if not outright slavery. Mission was the destruction of native sensibilities and structures, and the imposition (forced, if not voluntary) of North-Atlantic norms.

Now, don't get me wrong, there's something powerful about contemporary "missional" Christians attempting a redemption of that term - actually turning it on its head, meaning to serve those disadvantaged and oppressed, and taking place largely outside of official organizational structures. There is something powerful about converting the tools of the oppressor into ones that serve liberation. But there is also danger there that, in our eagerness, we might overlook.

Remember that even those most colonial of missionaries likely thought of themselves as serving the people they met. Civilization and the gospel, after all, were in the best interests of everyone - from the perspective of the missionary. The question we are now able to ask about that time period is did those missionaries (and armies and businesses that followed) have the right to determine what was in the best interest of another people? And is it any surprise that they determined that their own way of thinking and acting, their own values, were the superior ones that needed to be brought to those poor heathens, by carrot or stick or lash? It is easy for us to point to those years and those motives and eye them with suspicion. But are we so able to look at ourselves with the same critical eye?

Consider this. "Mission" talk has taken hold first and foremost in the United States in the last five years or so. This is at the same time that the United States has been talking about itself as an empire, even considering itself (favorably in some cases, unfavorably in others) the new Roman Empire. Is there something in imperial politics that draws the church along? Or is it simply a matter of people talking who hold both discipleship and citizenship?

Have we North American Christians unwittingly embraced a revised ("kinder, gentler") imperial theology? Are we assuming that our values are the values that should be universalized and normative? (Don't we think that, surely, the world would be better if it adopted our way of thinking?) We may not be as culturally imperialistic as our forebears, but that is something to watch out for. And could it serve as a distraction from prophetic discipleship to focus on patchwork social justice without working toward a larger, revolutionary system?

I'm just throwing these ideas out there. Honestly, I'm a missional Christian. I'm just starting this discussion in my head. So I'm less prepared than many to identify the imperialistic qualities of my theology. Perhaps in this way I actually do need Christians and people of other faith persuasions to push back against me. Perhaps, for my own sake, those whom I would convert must first convert me.

That seems to me the only way out. But again, I may be narrow-minded here.

December Scriptures: Not Your Usual Christmas Story

"In North America, December marks the start of our annual frenzy of conspicuous consumption, and churches often counter the market’s hijacking of our feast day with poor substitutes: charity and triumphalism.

"The scripture passages for these weeks do not support our holiday evasions. While sometimes hopeful, the verses are neither cozy nor celebratory. Certainly we find stories of Jesus’ birth, but they come amid news of prisons, lions, vipers, swords, armor, and genocide. The lections’ strongest themes are of justice, violence, and the role of prophets.

"Over five Sundays the lectionary takes us through seven books spanning eight centuries, and we engage with some of the best-loved passages in scripture: “A shoot shall come up from the stump of Jesse” (Isaiah 11:1); “a little child shall lead them” (Isaiah 11:6); “the voice of one crying out in the wilderness” (Matthew 3:3); and “my soul magnifies the Lord” (Luke 1:47). The dominant texts are Isaiah, the book from the Hebrew Bible most quoted in the Greek Testament, and the gospel of Matthew, the book in the Greek Testament that draws most often from the Hebrew Bible. In a complex interplay, the texts read each other, we read the texts, and the texts read us and our times.

Read the whole article and commentary
for each Sunday's scriptures online at Sojourners.

Face to faith

All faiths must accept pluralism if we are to defuse strife caused in the name of religion, says Jay Lakhani

The Guardian
Saturday November 3, 2007

Not long ago, interfaith dialogue in this country was based on the idea of "tolerating" other religions. This was clearly a derogatory attitude, suggesting that other religions had to be given permission to exist. The dialogue has since moved on and is now framed in terms of "respecting" other religions. This may appear to be a more mature approach suited to the needs of a multi-faith society, but in reality this terminology is a camouflage, shielding an exclusivist, non-negotiable agenda of the Abrahamic faiths.

Read the whole article at the Guardian.

New Book: EMPIRE

Reading the Christian Theological Legacy for a New Day

The radically altered situation today in religion, politics, and global communication—what can broadly be characterized as postmodern and post-colonial—necessitates close rereading of Christianity's classical sources, especially its theologians.

In a groundbreaking textbook anthology from Fortress Press, Empire and The Christian Tradition: New Readings of Classical Theologians, twenty-nine distinguished scholars scrutinize the relationship between empire and Christianity from Paul to the liberation theologians of our time.

The contributors discuss how the classical theologians in different historical periods dealt with their own contexts of empire and issues such as center and margin, divine power and social domination, war and violence, gender hierarchy, and displacement and diaspora. Each chapter provides insights and resources drawn from the classical theological tradition to address the current political situation.

Editors:
Kwok Pui-Lan is William F. Cole Professor of Christian Theology and Spirituality at Episcopal Divinity School.
Don H. Compier is founding Dean and Professor of Theology at Community of Christ Seminary, Graceland University, Independence, Missouri.
Joerg Rieger is Professor of Systematic Theology at Perkins School of Theology, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, Texas.

In flight

In flight to Europe, and a preview of our future life.

We’ll be flying into Germany and catching a train to the first of several meetings in the coming two weeks. Christie and I will be meeting the staff of the Europe church, many for the first time, as well as introducing ourselves to the local church leaders of Germany and the Netherlands. Amid all this, too, there will be many discussions and reports on the state of the church in Europe, challenges and possibilities, hopes and warnings, that sort of stuff.

Particularly important, though, of course, will be the personal impression I make and the tenor of the new relationships that is sounded in these first few meetings. And that worries me a bit. You see, there have already been some misunderstandings, some cross-cultural blunders, that might have started a “reputation” for me in Europe. Plus the obvious challenges that my age, inexperience and nationality will present. It may be with just a few, or even just one, but I’m still anxious about making a good impression – flexible but confident, generous and eager to laugh, encouraging and hopeful. And, as if the way with irony, it is often when we are most anxious about first impressions that we rarely make entirely good ones. Que sera sera. Щто делать?

All the while, I’ll be trying to take a mental inventory of my job duties, personality traits and giftedness of my staff and co-workers, furniture available to us when we move to Europe, and small signs of hope and happiness. As I am now, I’m still feeling several weeks of tension and anxious anticipation regarding this trip and its manifold repercussions. I want to feel better about going to Europe – and am hoping that this trip (actually seeing the places and faces) will help me.

At the same time, I have to remember that this work isn’t entirely about me. I’m here to serve a community of people dedicated to giving themselves over to the transforming Spirit of God – to be transformed themselves and to accordingly transform their world. And really, that’s not up to me. I serve the Work. To do the work, but I don’t do the Work. (I keep reminding myself of this in hopes of relieving some of my anxiety and foreboding sense of tremendous responsibility.)

Wish me luck, dear readers. I am stepping into an unstable boat in uncertain waters, and I am far away from finding my sea legs.

I want to be heading toward something, rather than in flight away.

Back Pew Worship

Do church as if you're speaking to the people in the back pew. What are they wanting to hear from a sermon? What kind of music speaks to them? What kind of worship will not just inform but will engage them?

The people in the back pew are the last ones in the church (sometimes literally, often metaphorically), and the first ones out the door (again, sometimes literally). Don't speak to the swollen middle. Like Jesus, head straight to the fringes, the margins, the people on the edge of the community, and minister to them. Because everybody needs to hear that.

Local Efforts Continue to Address Homelessness

Religious leaders work to tackle homeless problem
By JOHN IWASAKI, P-I REPORTER

While chatting with friends Wednesday morning at a coffee shop in Ballard, Carolyn Swanson mentioned that she was headed to a meeting to learn how local churches could host Tent City 3, the traveling homeless encampment now in North Seattle.

Because Scandinavians pride themselves on "pulling themselves up by their bootstraps," she said, her astonished friends fired back questions:

"You're going to do what?" "Why don't those people work?" "Isn't that great to live off the state?"

Homelessness is a complex issue, and those with a roof over their head often don't understand it, said Swanson, a member of the justice committee at Our Redeemer's Lutheran Church.

Representatives of 16 congregations met Wednesday at St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral to gather information on homelessness and Tent City 3. The encampment will be moving from Haller Lake United Methodist Church to Riverton Park United Methodist Church in Tukwila on Sept. 22.

The larger question, not on the agenda at the St. Mark's meeting, is how to make homelessness a problem of the past. That daunting topic will be discussed Tuesday when an interfaith group holds its seventh-annual conference on "creating the political will to end homelessness."

Read the whole article at the Seattle Post-Intelligencer.

Growing the Church

The last two weeks I've been preoccupied with getting our house in shape to sell - all the yard and home projects I've neglected in my eagerness to work for the church have come back to taunt and chase me.

Another point of stress is that Christie and I run our home more like a farm - which looks different than a "yard." We don't water the lawn, letting it brown in late summer and die back naturally. We compost yard waste in big bales. We grow crops instead of flowers. Generally, the beauty of urban homesteading is a little rougher than the typical suburban well-manicured yard. In fact, if you're not used to it, it might look unkempt and ratty.

So once we made the decision to sell the house, I started pulling up crops and planting flowers, laying down bark mulch instead of the homegrown compost, and watering the lawn. The problem is, watering the lawn once the grass is already brown is too late. Once the crisis point has hit, it's the watering you've already done (or not done) that matters.

And watering only the brown patches leaves what still is green to wither and die - so you have to water both the living and the dying (or the birthed and potentially re-birth-able) equally, actually watering where you hope there will be grass soon.

Ministry within congregations, it occurred to me, is much the same. If we wait until crisis to start to minister to each other, show love, mobilize for issues we believe in, or begin mission work in our neighborhoods, then it's too late. The heat of the day and the summer will burn up most of your water and care. It is the watering and attention you've done prior to this that really sustains roots, that has already penetrated the soil and is at the source of people's strength. If we wait until congregations are dying to start mission work, it is an uphill battle, and the fruits of the labor may not be seen for a long time, while the water (and precious little at that) makes its way to the roots - and we need to keep watering. Whereas, if congregations sense a call to mission earlier, and begin to cultivate their spirituality and religious devotion to include a real-life care for the world, then when crises hit (and crises will come), the roots deep below will sustain them and weather the drought.

On a more personal level, when individuals are going through a crisis like the death of a loved one, oftentimes the words and efforts right then seem superficial and un-comforting. It is the understandings that have been deeply cultivated, the convictions that are already nurtured and healthy and rooted, that carry one through, or leave one wanting. It doesn't seem much different with larger organisms like congregations or denominations.

We've been starving our roots for too long, getting by with shallow waterings and quick fixes. We want our congregations to grow, but are unwilling to invite people, or unwilling to offer dynamic worship, or unconventional worship, or meaningful, insightful, exciting preaching, or whatever. We've been unable or unwilling to open our doors to homeless or poor or immigrants or other languages. We've clung to old forms of worship or congregational identity, when the world around us has changed dramatically. We've been hoping that having kids will grow our church - a strategy that worked in the 50's when the population of the US generally was growing. We are still conflicted about our history and heritage, embarrassed at times, ashamed at others, but sensing all the while that there is something precious and worthwhile buried under all the misgivings, and not having the language to talk about it without sounding retrograde.

Whatever it is, we need to stop watering shallowly. Gardeners all over will tell you: water more deeply and less often to conserve water and encourage healthy root growth.

We need to water where we want grass to grow, too. That means stretching ourselves, and risking the "waste" of some resources on land that is not yet in bloom, where roots have not visibly reached, trusting that the Spirit is at work there just as it is at work where the grass is greenest. This necessitates an economy of abundance, rather than scarcity - where we water deep and wide.

Honestly, I'm not sure many of our congregations are ready for that kind of commitment.

The thing is, there are other gardeners out there. If we don't reach people, something else will. And we'll have no one to blame for our desert lawn but ourselves.