The Invisible Wall

Not long ago I was talking with  friend who has become the pastor of a church in his small home town.  He’s been there for a few years, having been away for twenty, and has found himself among people he has known all his life.  The parish council president, for instance, is an old classmate from nursery school through high school.  Some of his elderly parishioners are his old teachers.  He knows almost everyone on Main Street, regardless of their denomination, or lack thereof.
What’s got to him, he said, is the invisible wall that has been constructed between him and all these old friends.  He goes to morning coffee and the old gang chirps up with, “Watch what you say, the preacher is here.”  That sort of thing.  Friendships that once shared confidences with ease are now guarded.  Relaxing “out of uniform” in public as become difficult, if not impossible.
The invisible wall is a price paid by almost every clergy person no matter where they serve, but I imagine it has to be especially tough when one serves in one’s home town.  Not everyone, however, experiences it as a negative.  Another acquaintance, who also serves in his home town as a locally ordained person, has found the invisible wall to be quite permeable, and the cautionary, “Watch what you say, the preacher is here,” is also an invitation for him to be comfortable as the presence of the Church over coffee or a beer.  Nevertheless, he is mindful that he is never not the pastor, even when working at his secular job.
It brings up an interesting question.  Locally ordained non stipendiary and part time clergy are becoming the norm in many small towns, and in many denominations.  The greater Church has done what it can to see that they are as theologically well educated as possible, sans three or four years away at seminary.  Is the greater Church also helping them understand what it means to be separated from the flock to become a shepherd?  It’s the separation part that I wonder about.  Being separated for ordination is an old subject of conversation among Church leaders, but it’s been mostly about seminary graduates who do not go back to their home towns, and who, for the most part, have ventured forth as professional clergy.  Locally ordained persons serving their home congregations while maintaining a secular job are in a different place.
Separation for ordination also brings social separation that has dramatic emotional consequences, and I suspect that we don’t pay enough attention to it when preparing locally ordained persons for ministry in their home towns.  The invisible wall is  reality.  It does not have to be an emotionally damaging one, but I suspect it will be if we don’t help them prepare for it. 

Any thoughts?

All Sorts and Conditions

There is a prayer dating from somewhere in the late 17th century that has graced the lips of Anglicans in Morning and Evening Prayer, and sometimes in the Sunday Eucharist.  

O God, the creator and preserver of all mankind, we humbly beseech thee for all sorts and conditions of men; that thou wouldest be pleased to make thy ways known unto them, thy saving health unto all nations. More especially we pray for thy holy Church universal; that it may be so guided and governed by thy good Spirit, that all who profess and call themselves Christians may be led into the way of truth, and hold the faith in unity of spirit, in the bond of peace, and in righteousness of life. Finally, we commend to thy fatherly goodness all those who are in any ways afflicted or distressed, in mind, body, or estate; [especially those for whom our prayers are desired]; that it may please thee to comfort and relieve them according to their several necessities, giving them patience under their sufferings, and a happy issue out of all their afflictions. And this we beg for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.
I wonder sometimes what good it does to have been said so many times by so many people for over three hundred years, and to see it bear so little fruit.  Various members of the congregations I served before I retired would tell me how much they loved this prayer, and would we please use it more often.  I have no doubt that the sentiment was sincere, but it also seems to me that the only way for God to fulfill its petitions is for Christians to carry them out, and that seems to be the rub.
How is God to make God’s ways known unless we know what those ways are, demonstrate at least some of them in our lives, and are willing to tell others about them?  And I don’t think sending missionaries to far off lands counts when we fail to make God’s ways known to the people around us every day.
We ask God to guide and govern the Church universal, and then act like every part of that Church with which we have some small disagreement is an enemy.
We commend to God’s care those afflicted in mind, body or estate, and then oppose anything that smacks of welfare, especially for those whom we deem to be undeserving.  We ask God to give them a happy outcome, and do very little to make that possible.  
I’m not only fulminating at the usual list of hypocrites.  They are out there, and they do get under my skin.  But when I look in the mirror, around my own neighborhood, and at my friends and fellow worshipers, I see good people who too easily become complacent, self absorbed, and anxious about engaging in lavish generosity when we have been so well schooled in the fear of scarcity.  A lack of confidence in our own faith, combined with fear of not having enough, leads smoothly down the path of sincere prayer followed by precious little response, not from God, but from us.  
When confronted with this painful truth we get defensive, and our best defense is to self righteously point to all the good causes we support one way or another, and the diligent work of the greater Church undertaken with our various tithes and assessments (about which we complain just the same).  What we are less good at doing is working on public policies that would go far toward alleviating afflictions and suffering at their root, nor are we comfortable enough in our Episcopalian skins (I can’t speak for any other denomination) to share the good news of God in Christ as we understand it.  
I wonder if God doesn’t say to the assembled heavenly court something like, “Here comes that blasted prayer again.  I’ve told them what to do, come to them in person to show them the way, inspired scriptures to guide them, given them every resource they need, empowered them with my Spirit, and showered them with miracles, and what do I get in return – not much.”
It’s a good thing God is slow to anger and abounds in steadfast love.

Romans 12 and Public Policy

What would happen if domestic and foreign policies were modeled after a portion of Paul’s letter to the Romans?  What would happen if we modeled our personal lives after it?
Rom. 12:14   Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them.  15 Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.  16 Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are.  17 Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all.  18 If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.  19 Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.”  20 No, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.”  21 Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. 
What would the last few decades have looked like if we had opened up trade and established full diplomatic relations with Cuba, as we have, for instance, with Viet Nam?  What if Israel and Egypt had, in the face of Hamas’s rockets, jointly invaded Gaza with new roads, housing, schools, and hospitals?  The U.S. did something like that after WWII when it bent to the task of rebuilding Europe and Japan.  Not, I might add, without furious objection from powerful voices intent on revenge. 
“Oh, get real,” you say, “that only worked because they had been beaten into unconditional surrender.”  Perhaps.  The problem, as I see it, is that our first and preferred option is always in the direction of coercion, violence, and retribution.  Be first or be a loser.  Be the greatest or be a nothing.  Be the toughest or be a doormat.  Can these be the only alternatives?  At least we might give the Romans 12 approach a try.  If Paul’s letter is to be received as Holy Scripture, then it must be taken seriously.  Even if not, it’s reasonable to assume that Paul had learned something important about what kind of life leads in a godly direction, and Romans 12 illuminates that path.
“Well,” you say, “what good did it do him?  He was beheaded.  Didn’t work out so well for him, did it!”  True enough, but two thousand years later we are still working on probing the intersection between Paul, God, and truth.  Paul has endured while Nero, under whom he was beheaded, is remembered mostly as a tragic historical joke.  So why is it that nations, a large number of Christians, persons following other religions, and sometimes the Church itself, choose to follow Nero, doing so with confidence?
It baffles me.

Riley’s Excellent Adventure

Our daughter and family live in one of those big old houses of three floors plus a finished basement (now referred to as the lower level, thank you very much).  They have a cat who treasures the hundreds of hiding places it has to offer.  They also have a dog who doesn’t much care one way or the other as long as he gets petted, fed, and let out now and then.  He doesn’t play a role in this very short story.  
We were there for a brief visit along with Riley, our West Highland Terrier.  For him it was like a trip to Disneyland.  He’s always wanted a cat of his own to hunt down and chase  He doesn’t know that it can, and often does, work the other way round.  In any case, he could smell the cat trail the second he came into the place.  With four floors and many small spaces to explore, the day was spent racing up and down stairs, in and out of rooms, under and over furniture, and behind anything for which there was a behind to get to.  Now and then he actually found the cat, who remained cattily disinterested in a game not of her choosing.  She was more often perched somewhere high and unseen, showing only mild curiosity in the mad search going on below.  It didn’t matter.  Riley was having a great time.
It made for a long uninterrupted night of pleasant sleep for him, no doubt filled with doggie dreams of a wonderful day of hide and seek in happy expectation of another yet to come.

What, you may ask, is the point of this story?  There isn’t one, except to share my vicarious delight in Riley’s excellent adventure.  It made him happy, and I imagine that taking dog like joy in our own daily adventures can do the same for us.  Children do that sometimes.  Teenagers do but they don’t dare let anyone know.  Adults have a harder time of it.  That’s too bad.

How Important is a Personal Relationship with Jesus?

How important is a personal relationship with Jesus?  Some of my evangelical friends define Christianity as a personal relationship with Jesus.  Everything else is adiaphora, except maybe the worship leading praise band.  Even some of my Episcopalian colleagues argue that a personal relationship with Jesus should be the aim of growth in Christian faith.  My problem is that I don’t know what a personal relationship with Jesus is.  
Apparently it has a substantial, perhaps essential, emotional content, but that’s not much to go on.  I have a personal relationship with my wife, children, grandchildren, friends, acquaintances, and, if emotions count, even with writers of silly letters to the editor.  Each of them has an emotional content, but each is not  just different, each is unique.  With that in mind, is there a standard for what a personal relationship with Jesus is suppose to look or feel like?  I am unaware of one.
When asked if I have a personal relationship with Jesus, I demur.  I am, I say, a follower of Jesus whom I believe to be the Christ, the Word of God made flesh.  I am a disciple, although not a very good one.  It’s a journey of one step at a time.  I’m in frequent conversation with God, sometimes in formal prayer, and sometimes in more informal give and take, but I don’t spend a lot of time worrying about which person of the Trinity is in on the call.  From time to time God feels very close to me.  At others I realize that knowing that God is present does not require feeling it.  God can feel very absent, but I know that God is there just the same. 
I think it is a disservice to nascent Christians to require of them a manufactured personal relationship with Jesus in order to meet the requirements of membership in the club.  My guess is that some who say they have one are just parroting a formula to avoid controversy while feeling guilt at having lied about it.  And I wonder if some who do claim a personal relationship with Jesus have sentimentalized him into a personal fairy godfather who bears little similarity to the Jesus of the gospel records.  A few others seem to claim ownership, as in this is my Jesus, not your Jesus, but I might share him with you if you are worthy.  I expect there is real authenticity among yet others.  Good for them.

For my part, I want people to know Jesus, to follow Jesus, and to worship God in Christ Jesus, but having a personal relationship with Jesus is just not that important.  What’s your take?

A Community in Transition

A recent letter to the editor in our local paper expressed concern that the burgeoning wine industry and influx of wine tourists was threatening the historical culture and values of our community. 
I don’t know that it’s a threat, but the culture and values of the community are changing, and the wine industry has something to do with it.  Having said that, I suppose the historical culture and values of the place depends on what era one wants to draw from.  In the early and mid 19th century we were an army fort and trading post amongst the resident tribes with whom we lived more at war than in peace.  Not too many years later we were the supply center for prospectors headed into the gold fields of Idaho.  Successful miners were separated from their take on the return trip by the bars and houses of prostitution that lined the main drag.  Law enforcement in those days was problematic, often by vigilante guns and ropes.  
Becoming a civilized town of farmers and ranchers in the late 19th and early 20th century, we also acquired the new state penitentiary as the consolation prize for not being chosen as the capital.  Churches, schools, two new colleges, and other signs of respectfulness did not, however, push out all the whore houses.  The last one didn’t close until the early 1960s.  WWII brought an Army Airforce Base and everything that goes along with it.  Downtown prospered, yet only a few decades later businesses had closed and it took on a shabby appearance.  A new mall on the outskirts threatened to kill it altogether.
A few forward thinking people turned that around about the same time the wine industry began to take hold.  The mall no longer exists, and the award winning downtown is booming.  Yes, there are wine tasting shops all over the place.  There are also a variety of terrific places to eat, interesting boutiques, and several new hotels as well as a beautifully restored old hotel.  B&Bs have become big business for some people.  So what exactly is being threatened?
A generation of farmers, ranchers, bankers and other established community leaders have been displaced by a new generation that is no longer under their benevolent, patriarchal control.  Residents that do not trace their lineage to pioneers outnumber those who do.  Church attendance is down, and they are no longer the center of social life.  The country club struggles to recruit new members.  In migration is almost all Hispanic, and many are now well established second and third generation.  Very little of the 1950s remains, but I suspect that is the era to which many turn to to find what they call historical culture and values. 

It is true that we are a community in transition, but a quick tour of our history illustrates that we always have been.  What will the future hold?  I’ll hazard a few guesses.  Population will grow slowly, if at all, because we do not have enough water to supply a large and rapidly growing city.  Some working class folks will be forced to find housing in surrounding towns because they will be priced out of the local market.  We will learn to tolerate frequent wine tourists and seasonal residents in their McMansions.  The colleges and hospitals will increasingly influence public policy.  Farmers and ranchers will continue to be respected and honored as the backbone of our culture, even if most of us have never been on a farm or ridden a horse.  The rodeo and county fair will celebrate them with more popularity than ever.  Finally, our Blue Mountains will begin to attract a greater number of urbanites who want an accessible wilderness like experience for a weekend or two each year.  

On Having Enough

I was talking with some younger friends a few days ago, and the subject of having enough came up.  They have young families, mortgages, some loans to repay, college tuition to look forward to, their own so recently paid off, and a certain middle class life style to which they’ve become accustomed.  When, they wondered, would they have enough?  Enough to not worry about money.  Enough to pay all the bills, have enough left over, and be reasonably certain in the security of their financial future.  It was not a matter of wanting to be rich, whatever that means, or to win the lottery.  It was a question of what it might be like to have enough.
I remember those days.  The days of my young family happily unaware that I had some anxiety about whether we would make it to the end of the month.  Robbing Peter to pay Paul while syphoning some off to buy this or that that was what everyone else did for their families didn’t work well at all.  It was not a comfortable time because whatever enough was, it was not what we had.  Enough was not just about money.  It was also about possessions.  Friends had newer stereos, better furniture, took more exotic vacations, went out to dinner more often, bought their kids better things, and so on, and so on, and so on.  It was also about competitive career growth and social standing among our group of friends.  It was enough that it looked like there would never be enough.    
I’m not sure when that began to change.  Somewhere, even before my children were out of college, it did begin to change.  I became more comfortable with the idea that what we had was enough.  Oddly enough, it was also a time when we began to tithe, and not just give what we could when we could.  Maybe it had something to do with enough years as an adult to see that God had always been walking with us, even through the darkest and dumbest places, which, in turn, became a deeper trust in God’s benevolent presence in the future of our daily lives.  Maybe it takes that kind of distance in time to gain a decent perspective on things. 
There is a danger in that.  It can come close to the gospel of prosperity nonsense that has become so popular these days.  It can come close to the ‘God loves me more than he loves you because see how well I’m doing’ kind of hubris masquerading as piety that is so obnoxious to others, and is such lousy theology.  
I think what happened is that I quit feeling that I was in competition with my friends and neighbors.  I could be more content with what I had, and enjoy it to the fullest.  I began to develop new friends.  Some of them wealthy, but content and grateful for what they have.  They delight in enjoying it, and part of their enjoyment is giving money away.  Some of them are poor by most standards, but content and grateful for what they have.  They delight in enjoying it.  Part of their enjoyment is sharing their life and labor with others.  Some of them are good old middle class who exhibit the same contentment and enjoyment.  Contrary to the pop psychology of success, contentment with what they have discovered to be enough is not a second rate coping mechanism for not having reached ‘the top’.  Rather, it is a genuine enjoyment of life lived fully within the means available. 

Here and there this odd lot group of friends mix together, enjoying each other in ways that have nothing to do with money or possessions, as such, and everything to do with what they share with each other.  One thing they have in common is an unwillingness to live beyond their means while not begrudging the means of others.  More often than not, they also share a profound sense of gratefulness for all that God has meant to them in their lives, and an equally profound trust in God’s presence.  They have enough.