Christmas Letter 2011

Every year, inserted in some of the Christmas greetings our family receives from friends and relatives are letters enumerating the senders’ activities, accomplishments, illnesses, and other significant vicissitudes of the preceding year. While I enjoy the chance to catch-up with what’s happening in the lives of these companions, I have never felt the need to reciprocate with such letters myself. Until now. (Microsoft Word is trying to tell me that the preceding sentence is not a sentence—yes, you confounded machine I know it’s a fragment, but I’m not going to change it, so there!) Where was I? Oh, yeah. Somehow there is an urge this year to let others know “how goes it,” and at the same time send Christmas greetings.

The most recent change for our family and many others in our region is the departure of one of the most exceptional pastors we have known. Josh Patty was for the last four years pastor of the church Polly and I attended, and his intellect, passion and faithfulness to the Gospel are rare commodities among clergy these days. I can make that claim because for most of my 46 years in pastoral ministry, a major chunk of my time was spent working with candidates for Ordained Ministry. Suffice it to say that (in my view) the trend toward dumbing-down is epidemic in Christian ministry and, unfortunately, it seems that most congregations prefer “nice” pastors who settle-in with the preferences and prejudices of the congregants (or as psychologists might say, pastors who are co-dependent), rather than pastors who are competent and capable to provide fruitful leadership.

Now, how is such a stinging observation appropriate for a “Christmas Letter”? Most of these letters simply report the preceding year’s happenings and conclude with Christmas blessings for the readers. Why include opinions about events, coloring them not in seasonal reds and greens, but in more of a wintry grey?

A colleague and friend who is a professor at a very prestigious university school of theology hints at a clue. Often, she has spoken of how the odious facts of life can be “altared” (misspelling deliberate) into realities more akin to divine purposes. A peasant baby is born in a filthy barn, which could be a metaphor for the smelly stench and barn-like character of life in the world. But this peasant baby becomes the One who restores creation and humanity to God’s graceful acceptance and attributes. That is “altaring,” or lifting life’s circumstances to God’s altar of transformation for good.

Pastor Josh has accepted a call to a congregation in the Midwest that already seems to realize the unique gifts and strengths he brings to ministry. Surely as time progresses, the congregants will grow in their appreciation of his leadership. While we feel the pain of his separation from Fairmont, we can rejoice that he is where others will benefit from his keen analytical abilities and commitment, as he, no doubt, will benefit from his new congregation’s capabilities to foster his own continued growth. “Altaring” is how the light continues to shine through the wintry darkness.

The past year included two separate struggles with kidney stones requiring five trips to the ER and three surgeries for yours truly. These were extremely painful and unpleasant times. But even here there were glimpses of light in the darkness: a loving wife’s never-failing care, concern expressed by other friends and family, and a primary care physician who, along with his staff, pulled out all the stops to make prompt medical expertise available. One time, when the misery was too intense for words, I went to see the dear, good Dr. Ang, and while examining me, he placed his hand on my shoulder and said softly, “You are really having a rough time, aren’t you!” Having such recognition of one’s struggle is “altaring.” It lifts the darkness and lets healing light shine through.

Polly continues as the HR Director of a social service agency with nearly 300 employees. It is a sometimes chaotic position, and often she can be heard to say that she walks a fine line between loyalty and stupidity (she is past retirement age). She will return home from the office today having had to deal with a serious personnel issue on top of other unending details, and she’ll be showing the tell-tale signs of the stress that accompanies her profession. My hope is that something about our life together and our home is “altaring” for her, and that amid the soft glow of Christmas tree and window lights there is peace.

Polly’s mom is staying with us now due to advancing forgetfulness and other lapses related to advancing aging. “Grandma” or “Gwam” as Trevor and I most often refer to her, has made the transplantation fairly well. (Her dog, “Sadie,” came along, and while she is willing to get along with our cat “Molly,” the cat has decided to go into attack mode, growling, hissing and chasing the dog whenever it dares to get too close.) Sometimes Grandma realizes she needs to be in a setting where she is helped to remember to eat, take her medicine, etc., and other times she’s just visiting and will be returning to her home soon. It’s sad when a woman who has always been a highly responsible, take-charge individual reaches such a time of dependency. She who has taken care of so many others, both as a nurse and a good neighbor, is now having to be cared-for, and that’s disconcerting, to say the least. Perhaps that there are those around who can do for her as she has done for others is helping to “altar” the situation into something that more nearly incarnates God’s care. If so, then it would be the same kind of “altaring” care I received from Gwam and Pop during teenage years when dating and marrying their daughter—care that in significant ways made them more my parents than my biological parents. That Gwam continues to delight in beauty, recall significant events from the distant past, play with Sadie, and even laugh at herself may be indicators of “altaring” grace.

Good friend—actually more brother than friend, Dr. William L. Roberts—is waging a mighty battle with what has been diagnosed as terminal cancer. Amazingly, the breaks in between the chemo treatments still find Bill and lawyer, Tom Patrick, designing what promises to be a breakthrough approach in adapting coin of the realm mediation principles and practice for churches, work that unfortunately is sorely needed these days. Not only so, but Bill continues to work with selected individuals as they struggle toward more wholeness and less woundedness (yes, Microsoft Word, I know that’s not a word—get over it). Once again, the darkness continues to be “altared” through the following of one’s sense of call, one’s commitment to do good, one’s faithful passion.

Son Trevor is still living with us out of economic necessity. As some of you are aware, he developed seizure disorder as a freshman in college and that along with other complications sent him into a tailspin that took years to straighten out. His seizure disorder is controlled with medication, and this past year he completed with distinction an educational program in the medical technology field. He currently works with mentally challenged individuals assisting them in learning ways to live up to reasonable expectations in daily life. We have learned from people outside our home of Trevor’s helpfulness to others in critical situations. Here too, perhaps, are signs of life being “altared,” being made holy through God’s working in another’s helpful influence.

Well, those seem to be the more significant things roused up by reflection over the past year since Christmas last. Obviously, there are many of life’s daily little happenings that “altar” what otherwise would be dismal, drab, dull days: telephone calls with friends, breakfast with clergy at McAteer’s or lunch and outings with other friends, reading new books (and sometimes rereading good old books), serious conversations with persons about personal or global issues that matter, occasional sessions at the piano or reed organ demonstrating just how rusty I have become, and adapting to my role as house husband since my retirement, to mention a few.

Tomorrow, Friday, Dec. 23, Polly’s brother, Fred, and his wife, Sue, along with their two daughters and their husbands and grandchild, Gavin, will be visiting for our Christmas get-together, and we are excited they are coming. Could it be that once again the day will bring an awareness of how life can be “altared”? It seems to happen most for me in times of being with the significant persons in my life. I wonder if that is true for others. Whether or not that is so, we hope that whatever your circumstances in this holy season, there may come glimpses of life “altared” with the joy, hope, love and peace that is of God.

Thoughts on Why Praise Songs are NOT Christian

First, these thoughts are meant to apply only to the praise music that I have heard sung in a few churches. It may very well be that there are representative songs in this genre that my preferences would deem fit to be called Christian, but my limited exposure just hasn’t had the privilege of hearing or singing them yet. Perhaps this post will prompt some such examples from a few readers, but as the readership of this blog is, indeed, sparse, it’s doubtful.

So, why aren’t the songs having received the imprimatur of a few churches in my ken Christian? Perhaps some lines from these songs will provide a clue to an answer:

“Lord, I lift Your name on high,” “Lord, I love to sing Your praises,” “I’m so glad You’re in my life,” “You came…my debt to pay,” “I will not forget your love to me,” “Hold me to Your side and I will love You to the end,” “I will bless the Lord forever,” “I will not be moved,” “Draw me in,” “You have made me glad,” “And I’ll say of the Lord…,” “Thank You, Lord, for bearing all my sin and shame,” “Now I know your embrace,” “You are my everything and I will adore you,” “I sing praises to the King of kings,” “Jesus, I’m so in love with You,” etc., etc., etc.

Except for one of the songs in this category that I can recall singing, they are all about an unholy trinity of “Me, Myself and I.” It almost seems as if we imagine by singing such words that God is so pleased at the sound of our melodic flattery that the Divine Being surely must bless us with some sort of special or chosen status for our feel-good blather.

Some will argue that such personal, pietistic panegyrics have always found their way into church music, but while, perhaps, true, it seems to this observer that the rise of the Jesus movement in the 1970s (following the fading of the anti-war and civil rights protest movements) brought with it flourishing new industries in Christian country music, Christian pop, Christian rock, Christian metal, Christian hardcore, Christian punk, Christian alternative rock and Christian hip hop, all of which have proven lucrative for their proponents. Whereas in former times first-person singular language in church music may have been an expression of one’s deep, personal commitment, today such commitment, genuine or not, just happens to coincide with earthly gain and popularity. One wonders if contemporary Christian music composition/performance would be as attractive, were it not accompanied by such corporal incentives?

One aspiring Christian music star reported in his Facebook page some months back about driving past a beautiful mansion in a panoramic country setting and wondering if he would “make it” and, thereby, have his own house like that. It’s natural for young people starting their careers to be centered in concern about “making it” in their chosen field, but is possessing palatial property an authentic sign of what purports to be Christian devotion? Is there not some disparity between who Jesus was and what he did, and an industry that turns his life, teaching and even his death into a profitable business?

That’s where the rubber screeches against the pavement, isn’t it? The Christian story, Gospel, message is about a man whose life was literally given for others. His compassion was such that he poured out his life for the sake of others, especially the poor, outcasts, downtrodden, dejected, the weak, young, old, and broken. It was this same compassion that led to his blistering of the so-called “best” people about town, the well-to-do, the brokers of power, the prestigious. He never singled them out for attack as individuals, but as types of self-important hypocrites, he flayed them, calling them vipers and white-washed sepulchers. They sang God’s praises because their fortunate circumstances meant that God had blessed them above those less obviously favored. They pretended that God walked with them, and talked with them, and patted them on the head or rump. But Jesus’ pervasive sense of compassion for all life saw right through their pretentiousness, calling them out for their lack of humane care and treatment of others.

Perhaps if what passes for contemporary praise, instead of singing “Hey, God, look at me and bless me because I’m singing your praises,” would focus more on God’s care for all of creation (“He’s Got the whole world in His Hands”) or Jesus’ call to take up his cross and follow him into areas crying out for life’s basic needs—“to bring good news to the poor, proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free” [Luke 4:18-19]—(“Here I Am, Lord”), then the music we sing may resonate more accurately with our call as Christians.

An irony here has to do with how the few churches familiar to me that have turned large chunks of their worship services over to egocentric praise music are actually very much involved in improving the living conditions of the less fortunate and making a constructive difference for others. Relationally, these congregations possess genuine warmth that is accepting of all persons and they do remarkable work to improve the welfare of the larger community. It’s as if there’s a wrenching disconnect between the message in the music they sing and what they are actually doing. They are following the Jesus of our faith into life’s hard places.

So, why the preoccupation with self-promoting paeans of praise? When watching You-Tube clips of many of these praise songs being sung by the artists who have “made it,” the setting is usually a large arena filled with people, arms raised and bodies jumping and jiving to Jesus. It seems to parallel a scene in the Bible, in the Book of Revelation (Rev. 7), where a multitude too numerous to count, from all nationalities and cultures, surrounds God’s throne in praise. Could it be that what is happening now in arenas across the country is a projection, however subliminally, of biblical images of the end of time. If such is the case, then it is a perversion of the biblical message. Besides the obvious — history isn’t over yet — the people included in that great multitude around the throne in the biblical vision are those who have washed their clothing in the “blood of the Lamb,” those who have suffered hunger and thirst, the least prosperous, the poor and marginalized, succinctly, those who have sacrificed and/or been made bloody by following the way of Jesus. The so-called “best” people, the right people to be with if you want to get ahead, are not there. Or, as Jesus (according to Matthew) says, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.”

Well, there they are: some thoughts about the latest fad in church worship. I close with a quote from an essay by the British mystery writer, Dorothy L. Sayers, entitled CREED OR CHAOS: “If all…are offended because of Christ, let them be offended; but where is the sense of their being offended at something that is not Christ and is nothing like him? We do Him singularly little honor by watering down his personality till it could not offend a fly.”

Good Friday Meditation 2011

(EXPLANATION: Last night I was one of five laypersons and two clergy who offered reflections on the "Seven Words from the Cross," an annual service held at Central Christian Church in Fairmont, WV. My choice was the first word:)

A brief word of background is in order: we really don’t know what Jesus said as he hung on the cross. These sayings attributed to him were not written down until forty or fifty years after the crucifixion. This first word, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do,” appears in five of the earliest manuscripts of Luke’s Gospel available to us, but it does not appear in six others, and many have wondered why the earliest copies of the New Testament are divided as to whether Jesus spoke this word or not. Some of what Jesus said and did was, no doubt, passed down untainted from the original witnesses, but other reports about Jesus may have emerged in the imaginations of the later Christian communities.

Even so, what is truly significant is that all of these stories, biographical or imaginary, depict the same qualities of Jesus character: his absolute trust in God, his compassion and loving heart that went out to others, especially the outcasts and oppressed, the weak, young and broken; his straight-forwardness and courage in the face of opposition; as well as other life-affirming attributes.

Yet, in spite of that, I’m often painfully aware how the story of Jesus gets twisted to say what people want it to say. The history of the church is rife with doctrines and beliefs and practices that turn the Jesus story of amazing love and grace for all life into self-serving systems that count some as deserving of places of honor above others, even to the point sometimes of tragically justifying vicious abuse of others. How often have we all heard statements like: “Unless you believe and practice faith as we do, then you’re doomed?” Or as one church member said to me, “I know I’m going to heaven, but I’ll pray for you.”

Indeed, this twisting of the life and message of Jesus began almost as soon as he died, was buried, and arose from the dead. The first Christians were Jewish, and in no time at all disagreements between the Jewish Christians and the other Jewish denominations (Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, the Priests) became major conflagrations until the Christians finally separated from their Jewish forebears and even went so far as to accuse the Jews of killing Jesus. (By the way, I have some good news: it wasn’t the Jews. Jesus was put to death by the Roman occupation army—period! Jesus created a scene in the Temple that disrupted the Pax Romana, the Roman Peace, and the Roman authorities always moved swiftly to signs of civil unrest and potential rioting. Nothing personal, Jesus, but look and act like an insurgent and, if we can get our hands on you, the consequence will be immediate: crucify him.)

Right from the very start of this thing called Christianity, the example and teachings of Jesus were manipulated and contorted so as to show preference for some over others, to justify positions of power and privilege, so much so that it is easy to hear Jesus saying throughout these 2000 years as he may have said to the Roman soldiers at the foot of the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

So what is forgiveness? Isn’t it to be able to “let go”? By no stretch of the imagination, is that easy. My 46 years of serving congregations are filled with memories of power struggles and deceptive ploys that made the ministry more difficult than I ever envisioned it would be at the start. To this day, I awake some mornings having dreamt about some of those episodes, obviously still not able to let them go, and in the process I still feel wounded because of my letting-go inability. You probably find that hard to understand.

Sometimes it’s an inability of letting go of the pain; sometimes it’s an inability of letting go of presumptive power and prestige. Thomas and Alexander Campbell, the father and son duo that founded this denomination, the Disciples of Christ, had as their grand vision and hope the reunification of all the scattered denominations into one body, bringing an end to Christian separatism and the supposed superiority that leads to disunity. That dream is one of your denomination’s notable contributions to church history. Yet, when in the 1970s the Disciples joined with eleven other Protestant churches to produce the same curriculum materials to be used in their various denominational Sunday Schools jointly (the project was called CE:SA—Christian Education: Shared Approaches), your denominational officials in submitting the materials to the Diciples’ publishing house, made an editorial change that was rather cute: every time mention was made of Jesus speaking to his disciples, the word “Disciple” was capitalized, unintentionally perhaps, but nevertheless suggesting that when Jesus speaks, it’s just to the (capital D) “Disciples,” not to Presbyterians or Episcopalians.

But not all claims to dominance are harmless. One of the most difficult congregations I served was during the late eighties. It is located in a Jerusalem-like capitol city, Charleston, WV. Capitols and their surroundings, even their churches, have a way of cultivating a certain air of superiority, even arrogance perhaps. My pastorate there lasted four years, years laden with conflict and confusion consisting of behind-the-scenes plotting, secret petitions for my removal, unkind anonymous letters, slashed tires, and on one occasion a telephone call in the middle of the night threatening my life. Now these were not bad people, rather they were people who were convinced that they knew the only right way to follow Christ. Consequently, their actions were reasonable because, after all, God was on their side and their righteous cause justified any means whatsoever to bring about God’s ends. The only time I have returned to that church was a year ago to attend a funeral service of one of its beloved members, John Charnock, the City Attorney when I was in Charleston and a genuinely good man.

One of the areas of conflict while there involved the choir director. He was particularly enamored of the then popular Sandy Patti, a contemporary country Christian music star, and his goal was to turn the worship services into look-alike Sandy Patti concerts. His vision of these productions was bound to clash with my highly-liturgical sensibilities, and despite attempts to mediate some common ground, he saw me as an obstructionist to God’s leading, and I saw him as a guy who was sure there was only one right way who wouldn’t listen to other views. I did not object to the use of new tunes and rhythms, nor to the use of other musical instruments. My problem was with the lyrics and what I considered to be “stinkin-thinkin” faith understandings. Perhaps if I had been more acquiescent, I would have decided that no one pays attention to the words anyway. But I couldn’t bring myself to really believe that. In time, the choir director moved on to another church. But I paid a heavy cost in terms of congregational support in that conflict, which then fused into other areas of disagreement. To this day I continue to harbor anger at all that happened in Charleston.

Jesus truly possessed a quality of compassion and understanding that could let-go, that could genuinely reach out to those who were inflicting the cruel torture of crucifixion and forgive them. Deeply desiring to be a disciple of this same Jesus, I wish I could let-go and forgive as he did!