Month: December 2008

There is an interesting moral judgment phenomenon going on in the news these days.  On the one hand we have Governor Blagojevich who, if nothing else, is a real slime ball – almost a caricature of some South-side second-rate racketeer out of a B-movie.  But has he, in fact, actually done any serious damage?  It looks more like a pile of bungled attempts at extortion than anything else.  Be that as it may, this incompetent would-be political gangster has all the headlines.

In the meantime, we have nice, polite, well educated and highly respected Mr. Madoff who has stolen billions from a huge variety of investors, and ruined the fortunes of untold others.  All he gets are a few brief reports on the business pages and a big ho-hum from a public that is simply not entertained very much by a thief of monumental proportions that are all but impossible to comprehend.

We are outraged by the bumbling boob and bored by the sophisticated big time thief and killer of hope.  What gives?  Why are we not all the more outraged by Mr. Madoff?  Why do we not think of him as a greater slime ball than Blagojevich?  I find the press and the public most puzzling.

We had one of our occasional clergy days gatherings today.  Clergy days are held around the diocese to gather geographically grouped clergy together for a meeting with the bishop.  So we gathered, about fifteen of us, at a nearby church only 60 miles away for me, a bit farther for others and not even 150 miles for the bishop.  We talked about the recent diocesan convention, a meeting of the diocesan council, some reorganization of diocesan staff, what the House of Bishops might be up to, and a variety of other exciting and motivating matters customary to these sorts of meetings regardless of denomination.  But what we did most was laugh.  We laughed together about some of our own silliness, life in the church, and the ordinary events of our lives.  We laughed together about most everything, and that’s a good thing.  It’s good for us, good for the church, good for the bishop and good to know that we can be friends as well as colleagues in a diocese that can laugh.

As a Fire Chaplain maybe I see more of this than I should, but this is not a great season for a lot of people.  Anxieties about preparing in just the right way so no one is disappointed, family discord that has never been resolved touch very raw nerves, mental illnesses flare up under the pressure of Christmas expectations, loneliness, despair that can be suicidal, unexpected deaths brought on by too much food or booze or both, and the whole gamut of ordinary sickness seem to be more evident during these weeks.  In this season, when the abounding and steadfast love of God is so vividly manifested in the nativity of our Lord, how can we be alert and responsive to these issues in the right way?  There is probably a good psychological answer to that, but I think the right answer is in the gospel narrative itself.  The rejoicing we offer is a rejoicing that has no requirement but to receive the gift of God incarnate who came precisely for those who find this such a difficult time of year.  I think that’s the right answer, it’s just that we are not very good at doing it.

Twice a month I serve a small rural congregation.  Average Sunday attendance is around 12 or so, but this morning we had unexpected largesse with a congregation of 23.  Is this one of those struggling congregations just barely hanging on in a country town with high unemployment and a dim future?  Not likely!  Over coffee and donuts after the service, the congregation gathered to acknowledge the over abundance of blessings that are theirs.  Each one took an envelop in which to make personal donations earmarked for particular needs in the community, hundreds of dollars from their outreach fund were dedicated to other needs here and abroad, two parishioners took on responsibility for outfitting the needs to two impoverished children, $500 from a discretionary fund was given to the local food bank, and a couple of hundred more was dedicated to the family of a minister whom they did not know, in another town, and from another denomination, whose house had burned down.  All this from a congregation that cannot afford a full-time pastor and worships in a tiny little hundred-year-old building in need of repair.  Driving up there twice a month to worship with them is truly one of the greatest joys of my ministry.

I love Christmas.  I love the joyful preparations and town wide decorations, both tasteful and tacky.  I can’t help but smile at the Sponge Bob Santa, the Pooh Bear Santa, and all the goofy stuff that has nothing at all to do with Christ’s Mass but is still good fun.  I love the quiet anticipation of Advent that calls me into a deeper contemplation that is adorned with Festivals of Lessons and Carols, Children’s Pageants, bell choirs and the Youth Group in the church kitchen preparing inedible stuff for sale.  I even get sentimental over a few of the television rebroadcasts of old Christmas specials.  I especially love it this year, my first Christmas in retirement, which means that I can sit back and really enjoy it.  In fact, we are going to do the unheard of and go to New York to spend Christmas with one of our daughters and her family.

Of course the majority of Christmas preparations have nothing at all to do with Christ.  But in every TV show, amateur Nutcracker, Mall display and non-stop holiday music on radio there is always the theme of “The Real Meaning of Christmas” that generally has to do with the fulfillment of real love and generosity.  All of it reminds me of just how much people yearn for what only Christ can give, and though they may be looking in strange places, the truth is not far away.  Although Christmas is not nearly as theologically important as Easter, it is still Christmas that gives us the greatest opportunity to open doors, and open them wide, so that those who are searching may find their heart’s desire within the worship of our congregations.  But how will they know where to look if no one tells them.  Rather than opening up a war with the secular holiday, we should be taking advantage of every opportunity to listen, engage, share and invite with plenty of Ho-Ho-Ho. 

Conversation in another part of the blogosphere has been about the need to restore the idea of Advent as a penitential season.  Learned histories of Advent combined with erudite parsing of the meaning of penitential concluded with a call to restore Advent preaching to a bolder engagement with sin, repentance, death, heaven and hell.  Of course that engagement would be tempered with the joyful hope that is ours in Christ Jesus so that on That Day “we may without shame or fear rejoice to behold his appearing.”  As far as conversation among theologians goes, I thought it scored some very worthy points.   The problem, it seemed to me, is that ordinary Christians sitting in the pews would understand little of that.

To, in any sense, restore Advent as a penitential season, we cannot start where the 19^th century church left off.  We have to start where the people are.  I suspect that if you asked a cross section of pew sitters to define what a penitential season might mean, they would come up with a season of dark, glum, foreboding, joyless people sitting around in self-flagellation over their sinfulness.  I could be wrong, but as guesses go I’ll bet I’m not too far away.

So the question becomes, how do we take that in a different direction so that we can understand penitence in the sense of an honest self-reflection calling us to joy filled repentance as ones forgiven by God who has given us new life and strengthened our renewed intention to grow in discipleship as followers of Jesus Christ?  That would make Advent a season of joyful solemnity, or maybe solemn joyfulness, which may sound like a tension filled oxymoron, but then that is exactly what Advent is.

I used the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator years ago in some of my work, and later for pre-marriage counseling.  For some reason the subject came up over the Thanksgiving holiday, and my wife dug out my 300 page MBTI manual to pour over my profile with exulting cries of “Aha!” and “I knew it!”, which all added up to the confirmation of her opinion that I can be unusually stubborn and willful.  Wonderful traits for a clergy person, don’t you think?  Of course I find myself quite charming and most agreeable in a flexible sort of way, much like, I suspect, Prof. Henry Higgins.  In any case, here is the lesson learned.  If you have one of these things, or something like it, lying around, hide it.