“Unfriended”

I am far from a Facebook pro. I post quotes, make the occasional comment and read about what’s going on in the lives of my family and friends. Rarely do I spend more than 10 minutes once or twice a day on Facebook. Like a lot of people, I haven’t met or even spoken with all my Facebook friends. I read the friend suggestions and sometimes send a friend request to certain people. Other times people contact me asking to be my friend. I’m careful about who I “friend,” and normally I look for mutual Facebook friends before approving friend requests. Oh, and I make a point of avoiding theological debates on Facebook.

Until this week…

A Facebook friend I’ll call “John” (not his real name) pastors an independent Pentecostal church whose members are primarily lgbt. Theologically, he is very conservative, and many of his posts remind me of the theology I grew up with in the Pentecostal church of my youth. At the same time, while I strongly disagree with much of his theology, I respect his path and search for truth.

This week he posted an entry calling for the lgbt community to work with churches rather than against them, stating that there are many churches who are open and affirming. He asserted the community’s wholesale dismissal of Christianity can lead people to fall into doctrinal errors like Universalism. His disapproval of belief systems that do not agree with his was made apparent when he placed the word “Christians” in quotes; as in, so-called “Christians.” He closed the post by stating we should be about love and inclusion—period.

Unless you happen to be a Universalist, I guess.

So I respectfully replied that true inclusion should include Unitarian Universalist Christians like myself. My reply was not well-received, to say the least. By the tone of his reply, I sensed ”John” felt threatened. He asserted UU-ism is not Christian, Jesus is the ONLY way to heaven, and so on. I replied again, stating that I respect his chosen path, and that UU-ism was actually born of Protestant Christianity. I went on to say I was raised in the Pentecostal church, and my experience was that it is not inclusive. I wished him well and thought that would be that. I thought we would simply agree to disagree.

Boy was I wrong…

One exchange later I received a terse note stating that I did not get to define “inclusion,” how dare I say he isn’t inclusive, and obviously I knew nothing about the Pentecostal church, because it was far more inclusive than many of the mainline churches today. He closed by saying I was “talking a lot of bologna, he was tired of it,” and then in all caps GOOD-BYE.

I honestly wasn’t sure what I said to cause that level of anger; so I clicked on the “See Comment Thread” button on my computer screen to review my comments. Apparently I had unintentionally offended him, and I wanted to apologize. Lo and behold, I no longer had access to his page.

Yep, my ”affirming” and “inclusive” Facebook friend had “unfriended” me.

Some people might say I’m fortunate to have lost this “friend.” After all, lgbt people of faith have enough trouble dealing with angry religious fundamentalists without experiencing the same behavior wrapped in a rainbow flag. Besides, we never met or talked other than this one encounter on Facebook. So why should I care?

I care because whenever people of faith cannot at least reach a point of agreeing to disagree on a variety of issues–especially in public forums–we only perpetuate the negative perceptions some folks have of those of us who claim to be open-minded people of faith. And we really don’t need more bad press, now do we?

In the meantime, wherever my former Facebook friend may be–and on the very remote chance he reads this post…

Blessed be, my brother.

Membership Has Its Privileges

“Membership has its privileges” is an advertising slogan made famous by American Express. You may remember some of the commercials full of exotic vacations, multi-course gourmet meals and the like. The commercials would usually end with the slogan “Membership has its privileges.” The implication, of course, was certain things were available only through the use of the American Express credit card. So if you wanted to get in on all the rewards, you had to be a “member.”

Some of you already know where I’m heading, don’t you?

Yes, some religions/churches/denominations/associations/movements–pick your favorite term or add one of your own–tend to treat membership in their communities much like American Express. “If you want to go to heaven–and avoid hell–we’ve got what you need.” “If you want freedom of religion, we’ve got what you need.” “If you want freedom from religion, we’ve got what you need.” “If you want rockin’ music, we’ve got what you need.” “If you want that “old-time religion” complete with the “smells and bells,” we’ve got what you need.” “Heck, we’ve got both rockin’ music and smells and bells in the same service.” “If you want the most intelligent/thoughtful/caring/entertaining pastoral staff around, we’ve got what you need!” Then based on these and other considerations, people make their decisions as to whether or not to join these communities.

And then we wonder why many of these folks act like consumers once they “join the club.”

What I mean by that last comment is that in a desperate attempt to increase our numbers and cash flow, some churches don’t share–as Paul Harvey used to say–”the rest of the story.” For me, the rest of the story is simply the privilege of being a member of any community of faith is the responsibility which comes with learning how to live, love, learn, and “be” together, as well as do our part to transform our communities and world as part of that particular community of faith. For it is through those very processes that we, too, are transformed.

That’s right; the privilege of membership in any community of faith–”official” or not–has nothing to do with reserving our sweet seats in the afterlife by saying the “right” words about God and Jesus, baptismal vows, confessions, having voice and vote in congregational matters, dropping a few–or several thousand–dollars in the offering plate, or even holding elected offices in the church. Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with holding beliefs about God, Jesus, an afterlife, baptism, or confessions. And Goddess knows we need spiritually and emotionally mature people to help fund, guide and make decisions in our communities of faith.

At the same time, being part of a community–any community–is not a spectator sport. There are times when we need rest, support and healing, and there are times when we provide opportunities for rest, support and healing for others who need it. There are times when we are fed, and there are times when we do the feeding. There are times when we need to be held in our pain, and there are times when we hold others in theirs’. There are times when we want to share our successes with others, and there are times when we celebrate the successes of others.

To me, this type of giving and receiving is what it means to live authentically in community, and it has the power to transform not only us, but the world as well. And the privileges of membership don’t get much better than that, now do they?

Besides, if there is an afterlife, something tells me God doesn’t take American Express…

The Illusion of Inclusion

“All are welcome!” ”Wherever you are on your journey, you are welcome here!” “Open and affirming!” “Come as you are, believing as you do!”

These are just a few of the phrases communities of faith use in their (mostly) sincere attempts to welcome diverse groups of people to their communities. I say “mostly” because I think it is fair to say some congregations use these phrases primarily as marketing tools. That is, facing declining numbers, some conservative and liberal religious groups are tweaking not only their orders of worship, music, “clerical drag” and programming; they are also tweaking their advertising techniques to boost attendance numbers and financial support. I understand this desire for survival. Still, the challenge is, after people arrive–if they haven’t given up on religion altogether already–they eventually learn there is often some “fine print” attached to those messages. In other words, there are some exclusions in the inclusive message.

For example, one friend of mine started attending a large non-denominational Christian church that proclaimed everyone without exception was welcome there. This group had amazing music and programming as well as positive and uplifting messages. There was a lot of Jesus–just without all that annoying discipleship business–well, with perhaps the exception of financial discipleship, that is. He attended a membership class and liked what he heard. Then my friend spoke with the facilitator after the class. He told the facilitator he is gay and asked if that would be a problem.

The facilitator of the class was obviously flustered and said, “Well, yes. I mean, you can come here and all, but you would have to commit to celibacy or repent and convert to heterosexuality before you could be a member.” Then, to add insult to injury, he placed his hand on my friend’s shoulder and said, “I don’t have a problem with homosexuals personally. See? If I did, I wouldn’t be touching you like this.” I’ve lost touch with this friend over the past few years; so I don’t know if he ever darkened the door of any church ever again. I can’t say I would blame him if he didn’t.

Now, not all churches that claim to be inclusive and welcoming are like the one I’ve described here. And sexual orientation is just one example of the “fine print” in some welcoming congregations. Another example is women (“Of course you can serve–just not in leadership that includes supervising or teaching men.”).  I’m sure you can think of other examples, too. At the same time, there are many, many communities of faith that strive to be as welcoming and inclusive as possible. I know because I am honored to be the pastor of one such group.

The challenge remains, however, that there is always fine print–either spoken or implied. You could call this fine print “boundaries,” too. Some are healthy; some are not.

I’ll use the congregation I serve as an example. In our Inquirer’s classes I now identify as a Unitarian Universalist Christian at this point in my life journey. I go on to explain that while this is how I identify, no one is required to share that identification in order to be a member of our church. People can be as creedal, conservative, born again, “washed in the blood of the Lamb” as they choose–or not. At the same time, they aren’t going to hear creedal, conservative, born again, “washed in the blood of the Lamb” music in our worship services or that theology in my reflections. So, if they absolutely need to hear affirmations of things like virgin birth, bodily resurrection, Jesus as God, blood atonement, hell, the bible as literal word of God and the like, they may not be comfortable at our church.

Again, I emphasize everyone is welcome at Holy Covenant and–like our Unitarian Universalist sisters and brothers–we affirm every person’s free and responsible search for truth. Yet I can see how a moderate to conservative Trinitarian Christian (straight or gay) could feel excluded at our church. And people who aren’t “Jesus-centric” probably wouldn’t be too comfortable with our focus on the teachings of Jesus and other biblical teachings, either. In other words, our church has “fine print,” too. And while I believe our fine print represents some healthy boundaries for what people can expect to see and hear at our church, others might see us as “exclusive.”

So the more I consider what I call “the illusion of inclusion,” the more I think some of us in “church world” stress out far too much over who we’re not, rather than celebrating–and not just affirming–the wonderful parts of who we are. Every religious community has a culture of its own; and while every community of faith has room for healthy growth, challenge and change, rarely does everything about those communities need an overhaul. Besides, when we try too hard to be something we’re not in any area of our lives, we can cause more hurt and pain to others and ourselves than any good we hoped to accomplish.

In the end, perhaps the best we can do is take the advice of St. Francis de Sales who was quoted as saying, “Be who you are and be that well.” That “who” may very well evolve and change over time, too. Besides, organisms (including churches and religions) that don’t evolve usually die anyway. Still, healthy change (boundary shifting)–either individual or communal–cannot be forced, even with the best of intentions and advertising campaigns. Healthy change takes time, ”prodding” from the Divine within each of us, and our willingness to listen to and act upon that prodding.

After all, we cannot be all things to all people. So, “be who you are and be that well.”

And be at peace.

Honor Thy Father and Mother

Three years ago our mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Fortunately my sister caught the symptoms early enough that Mom’s doctor was able to place her on medication that has–at least until recently–helped her have more good days than bad days.

Then came the strokes. Not many, but enough to affect her ability to properly care for and express herself. The strokes led to a few falls–no serious injuries, just a few stitches here and there–but naturally a cause of concern for my stepfather, sister and I. Mom’s temperament makes caring for her challenging at times, too–even at her diminutive size. At the same time, given the deterioration of her health and loss of independence, I can understand the frustration and anger she probably feels. After all, I don’t know of anyone who looks forward to spending most of their retirement years not being able to care for and express themselves.

Our stepfather has been absolutely amazing through all of Mom’s health challenges–caring for her every need, listening to her angry outbursts, everything. If anyone deserves sainthood, my sister and I agree its him. At the same time, we could tell caring for Mom 24-7 was wearing him down. Different people offered to help; but he always said they would be fine and not to worry. If they needed anything, he would call.

That call came in December a few days before Christmas.

Our stepfather had a heart attack in the middle of the night. Fortunately he was able to call a relative to come take him to the hospital. My sister came and took Mom into her home. Richard and I traveled from Illinois for our stepfather’s open heart surgery and to help with Mom for a couple of days. Richard returned to my sister’s the following week to help for a few days while she went back to work and I returned to Chicago to work.

The good news is our stepfather is doing great. He is now recovering at my sister’s; he walks daily, cares for himself with almost no assistance and is following doctor’s orders. We’re amazed and thankful for how well his recovery is going.

Mom, on the other hand, continues to deteriorate. As hard as it is to witness, we accept this deterioration as part of her disease process. No one is blaming God for what is happening; and fortunately no one has said they believe this is all somehow part of God’s plan for my parents’ lives–at least not within earshot of me.  I know this part of her journey has to be hardest on Mom; still, our stepfather watches helplessly and does what he can to make sure she is comfortable–which at this point in his recovery is very little.

This past week I made another trip home to help my sister and to sit with her and my stepfather to have what I call “the nursing home discussion.” The harsh reality is our mother is not able to care for herself, and we believe our stepfather risks her safety and his health if he tries to take her home and care for her. While he is now willing to accept help from family members, another harsh reality is none of us can quit our jobs and provide the care Mom needs–especially at night when she decides she wants to get out of bed and watch television–and lifting her when she falls is definitely not something our stepfather will be able to do again.

My sister and I thought we were doing our best to honor our parents’ wishes for us to care for them. My sister had already completed research on local nursing homes; and as a medical professional she has excellent contacts in the area. She had called our parents’ primary physician who agreed it was time–actually past time–for us to make this decision. We had worked together to determine our parents had the finances necessary to fund this option as well as support our stepfather. Mom would receive the 24-7 care she needs, and our stepfather could continue his recovery while visiting her as often and as long as he chose. Family members would also visit and check on both of them on a regular basis.

The conversation went well–or so we thought. Our stepfather agreed our proposal made sense. At the same time, he hated the thought of placing Mom in a nursing home. “I promised to take care of her and not do this unless I absolutely had to,” he said. I told him we knew that and were grateful for all he had done for our mother; still it was time. It was absolutely necessary now. He said, “You don’t have to thank me for taking care of your Mom; I love her.” By the end of the conversation we had all agreed on a plan as to how to proceed once our stepfather was cleared to drive by his doctor.

The following afternoon I left to return home. 20 minutes into my drive my sister called to let me know our stepfather was reconsidering our plan. The next day he had decided to take Mom home once the doctor cleared him to drive. My sister reminded him of our conversation as well as of the risks involved with his decision. He understands everything, and still wants to move forward with his decision and–as frustrating as it is for the family–it is his decision to make.

So next week my sister and I will honor our stepfather and mother by helping them move back into their home in the country. My sister and other family members will visit regularly and check on them. I will visit and help them financially as I am able.

I will be honest and say I don’t like this idea at all. I think my parents are taking some very dangerous risks. Then again, maybe my stepfather is risking everything out of love for our mother. I have to say, too, that I understand my parents’ tenacity for independence and a semblance of control over the direction of their lives. After all, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.  So perhaps–just perhaps–the best way my sister and I can honor our stepfather and mother is to allow them as much independence and control over the direction of their lives as possible.

Who knows? Maybe they will prove us wrong and be able to live out the rest of their lives in their cozy little home in the country.

It’s a nice thought isn’t it? Risking everything for love.

Re-Tooling the Church

Recently Richard and I spent a very pleasant afternoon with two friends. One of the women was sharing how some of the proposed changes local government is making for training in her profession (training educators) could actually make her position obsolete in the not-too-distant future. While she admitted these changes would save money, she also shared her concerns that the quality of training would suffer. The reduction in quality of training would then have negative impacts on future educators as well as the young people they instruct.

The discussion then turned to what we would do if our jobs became obsolete. How would we “re-tool” to adjust to our new realities?

This is a question that has been on my mind a lot in the past year or so. On one hand, I’m blessed to be a fairly compensated full-time pastor; on the other hand, I know that reality can change in a very short time. No, I don’t sit around worrying that the next phone call I receive will be from the Vice-Moderator of our board, notifying me the congregation is calling for my resignation for one reason or another.  And although we don’t have an endowment, and our board does have to watch our finances very carefully, I also don’t worry that next week’s paycheck is fully dependent on this coming Sunday’s offering.

No, the re-tooling question comes from what I see as the new realities of organized religion. And if what I am reading on various blogs, in books and magazines, and hearing in my discussions with colleagues across denominational lines are any indication, I am not the only one thinking about the issue of what I call “re-tooling the church.”

Like so many other professions these days, there are multitudes of talented and dedicated clergy who cannot find equally dedicated and caring congregations who are able to pay their clergy a living wage. Younger clergy cannot find positions because older clergy who should be retired are staying put in their churches and denominational leadership positions. And you can’t really blame all the older clergy, because–like everyone else–what little retirement and pension funding many of them had has taken a beating. So, they continue to work and serve as long as their health allows–or their congregations or denominational leaders “encourage” them to retire.

Like some other institutions, many of our administrative structures–especially at the national leadership levels–are sorely outdated and too expensive to maintain. I am not saying these structures are all bad, either. They worked at one time when going to church, synagogue, temple, or mosque was just “what people did.” That is simply no longer the case. People are learning they can be–as the title of Humanist Chaplain Gregory Epstein’s book reminds us–”Good Without God”–at least when it comes to being part of a church, mosque, temple, or synagogue. That is, people who believe in God–however they define that word–are learning that their eternal destinations aren’t tied to the support of any religious institution.

All these realities are just that–realities. The challenges I’ve mentioned are faced by religious groups across the theological/spiritual board. I don’t believe they are signs of an external God’s displeasure with us for being too “this or that” (pick your favorite label and insert it here). We may (and do) tweak our worship words and wardrobes. We add and subtract drums, keyboards, and organs. We add and subtract programs as people come and go. Trust me, I’ve done all these things at one time or another in my pastoral life; and I support mixing, matching, and trying new ideas. Still, regardless of what we try, it doesn’t change my core belief that these realities I’ve mentioned may point to yet another evolution in religion and religious expression.

And once again the church is being left behind redecorating our exteriors without doing the hard work of examining our interiors. When I say “examining our interiors,” I’m not talking about making sure we have all the “right” words and beliefs about our  faith to ensure our sweet seats in the afterlife, either. I mean asking questions like, “Why are we even doing this thing called “church” anyway?”

“Why are we even doing this thing called “church” anyway?” Let that question sink in for a moment. If we can’t answer it, we should be concerned.

For me, church isn’t about worshipping an external Deity, or for feeling better about myself after beating myself up during silent confession. As much as I love good music, church isn’t all about the music or the liturgy. And especially as a pastor, I seriously dislike the whole idea of “church as entertainment.” Yes, I strive to make my reflections relevant and I love to use humor. Still, as that great theologian Pink reminds us in one of her songs, “I’m not here for your entertainment.”

Church isn’t about escaping the reality of life that waits for us outside our pretty little white building, either. For me, church at its best is about learning how to support, love, and appropriately challenge one another as we face life–both as individuals and as a community of faith.

So what is it going to take to re-tool the church to not only face, but also embrace this evolution and revolution? I have a few ideas; one thing for sure, however, is professional religious people like me had best be prepared to adjust to our new realities. For our roles–and those of our denominational leaders–will have to evolve for religious communities to continue being relevant pathways to growth and positive living in our world.

Now I think I understand why there are so many “fear nots” in the bible…

The Church of Oz

There is a scene in the classic movie “The Wizard of Oz” where the real identity of the Wizard is exposed. And it is nothing like the identity he presented to others.

It really wasn’t his fault. According to the story, the Wizard arrived in Oz quite by accident–literally dropping from the sky as the result of a balloon trip from Kansas gone awry. Still, his unusual arrival amazed the people, and apparently they gave him absolute authority over their lives and practically worshipped–and sometimes feared–him. We could say the whole situation took on a life of its own.

As strange as it sounds, I sometimes think the institution of church came from Oz–at least from the first part of the movie, that is. And that thought scares me because–let’s face it–I’m considered by at least a few people to be one of the multitude of leaders in that institution.

I’m not saying the institutional church itself is all bad. I just think that sometimes–like the story of the Wizard–things have gotten out of hand. Jesus came teaching people a way of peace, love and inclusion that was, in large part, very different from both the government and religious policies and practices of their time. Jesus did not start a church. Jesus did not start a religion. Scripture records that Jesus came so we might have abundant life.

And we’ve settled for an institution.

It wasn’t always that way. Christianity started as a small, marginalized movement. I believe it was probably when Constantine “legalized” Christian worship in 313 of the Common Era with the Edict of Milan that things began to change. Depending on which scholars you read, this move was more political than spiritual, as Constantine was working to consolidate his power. If I understand the edict correctly, however, its purpose was to legalize the practice of all religions in the Roman Empire. Still, Christianity eventually became the religion of choice in the Roman Empire–especially if you wanted to be part of the favored power structure. In Christian history, we might even say that that is when the balloonist from Kansas became the Wizard behind the curtain.

History records church leaders (the Wizard) sending thousands of people (the Dorothys, Scarecrows, Tin Men, and Cowardly Lions) out to earn their salvation by killing the various enemies of the church (the Wicked Witches of the West); only to be told on their return that there were more “tasks” yet to do (those who were lucky enough to make it back alive, that is). Some church leaders held the power to read and interpret scripture for everyone else; others sold sweet seats to the afterlife (or at least took money to pray souls out of Purgatory).

Some people might read this information and say, “Yeah, but that was then and this is now.” True. At the same time, some groups–including some Christian groups–still have “crusades” against ideas and people who do not measure up to their expectations and definitions of “truth.” Some still claim to know THE way to eternal happiness and peace; and yes, you can have it too. If, that is, you are part of their group and follow their doctrines and dogma. And let’s face it, some members of the Institutional Church are still sleeping with the Empire.

In my opinion, what started out as a movement with amazing potential to change the world, over time became an institution mired in struggles for power and wealth. And like the Empire (and the Wizard), it has played on people’s fears of the unknown to maintain that power and wealth.

Just like in the story of the Wizard of Oz, however, I believe the curtain is being pulled back, and people are learning a few things about the church–and themselves.

Hopefully we’re learning that behind the big, booming voices, education and pageantry are at best imperfect human beings who do not hold the keys to our final destinations. And while church folk are definitely not perfect, I believe most of us are well-meaning, loving, and caring human beings. And as there were good things happening in “the merry old land of Oz,” there are good things happening in churches all over the world, too–even with all the big, booming voices hiding behind the curtains.

People are also learning that they don’t necessarily have to attend a church, synagogue, temple, mosque or any other building to be moral, ethical people who can make positive impacts in this world. As the Wizard eventually told Dorothy and her friends, they’re learning they’ve had the power within them to face their challenges the whole time. They just had to learn that lesson.

Who knows? Maybe that is what the church should be about–encouraging and teaching people that we already have the power within us to face the challenges of life, as well as to bring peace and justice to the planet. And since people have different names for that power, we should celebrate our different understandings of that power rather than try to establish our understanding as the Truth.

Yes, people are learning that sometimes the church isn’t always as it appears from the outside. And that knowledge is painful at times, too. At the same time, I believe some of what we’re learning is potentially life-giving and freeing. Who knows? Maybe some of what we’re learning is even salvific.

If we’re willing to keep pulling back the curtains, that is.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

This week I stated reading Paul Rasor’s “Faith Without Certainity: Liberal Theology in the 21st Century.” Although I have only finished the somewhat lengthy introduction and am now about 1/4 way through chapter one, I can already say this book is challenging me in positive ways.

First, I thoroughly enjoy Rasor’s definitions of religion and theology. He states: “The term theology is often associated with arcane and academic or technical concepts that focus on abstract doctrines. But the purpose of theology is really quite simple. If religion is about the large-scale world pictures that orient us in the universe and help give our lives meaning and purpose, then theology is about examining those worldviews and the assumptions that go into them.”

What I like most about these definitions is they recognize the fact that everyone is a theologian at one time or another–including people who either question–or who do not believe in the existence of–any representation of the divine. That is, we all have questions about things like how life works, why life isn’t always fair, the ultimate meaning of life, and if there is anything beyond our current existence. One way of looking at religion then is our viewpoints represent those large-scale world pictures; and when we examine those pictures, we are doing theology. As Rasor reminds us, “our struggle and our outrage are always grounded somewhere.” And I would add, whether that grounding is in what some of us call “God” or not. So for me, identifying that grounding is “doing theology.”

Another quote from Rasor I like is: “Theology is not something we do just with our heads. We must also use our hearts and guts, as well as our hands and feet.” To me, that means theology is something we think about, feel, and is reflected in the words and actions of our lives.

Now, an integrity (or wholeness) of thought, feeling, and action is a “trinity” in which I can believe.

So how does my appreciation of Rasor’s viewpoints regarding religion and theology relate to the title of this post, “Breaking Up is Hard to Do?”

Well, if–as Rasor asserts–”liberal theology is characterized by the belief that human religiousness should be understood from the perspective of modern knowledge and experience”–and if we acknowledge that our knowledge and experiences evolve and change over time, it follows that many of us are going face the prospect of “breaking up” with some of our most cherished and deeply-held beliefs at one time or another in our lives.

And as Neil Sedaka reminds us, “Breaking Up is Hard to Do.”

For some, these changes involve breaking up with the idea of a supernatural being who controls every detail of our existence and has a specific plan for every person who ever has, and who ever will, live. Some  have broken up with the ideas of Jesus being literally God Incarnate, as well as literal intepretations of heaven, hell, virgin birth, miracles, resurrection, the rapture and second coming of Jesus, and an inerrant bible.

Some people are even breaking up with the idea of worshipping God as we often do now. By that comment, I mean there are people who are questioning not so much the existence of mystery that is beyond our comprehension, but why we continue to relate to that mystery much like our ancient ancestors did: offering thanks often out of fear of punishment or to gain favor not only in this life, but hopefully in the afterlife as well. I mean, we may not actually believe a lot of what we’re saying in these worship services; but hey, it can’t hurt to hedge our bets, can it?

Now before anyone thinks I am poking fun at certain beliefs, let me be clear that I respect all peaceful paths to truth and understanding. So if the beliefs I mentioned above are part of your path, blessed be–seriously. At the same time, these same beliefs are no longer useful for many people–including me. Rasor points out that “what we long for is a theology that both makes sense and feels right. Until we find this, we haven’t finished our naming process. And when we do finally get the intellectual and spiritual dimensions in sync, our theology becomes not just a label but a resource, a grounding for spiritual practice, for social critique, even for healing.”

So know that if you are in the process of a religious/theological break up, you are not alone. And while break ups are often a painful process, there is often hope somewhere deep in the midst of that pain just waiting to be born. Finally, if you will allow me one more musical reference, from the group “Shinedown:”

“Sometimes good-bye is a second chance.”

“Can We Talk?” Not Always…

“Can we talk?”

Depending on such factors as who is asking this question, their tone of voice, body language, etc., “Can we talk?” can produce in us emotions like joy, apprehension, fear, annoyance, and so on. If you are married, “unionized,” or otherwise in a committed relationship with another person(s), you probably know exactly what I mean. If you are a pastor, I am almost certain you know what I mean.

This question assumes someone desires to enter into dialogue with us about a certain issue, hopefully to obtain closure, understanding, consensus or some other goal. If there is one thing I have learned in my 10 years of pastoring, however, this assumption is not always the case.

In the past month I have had two such experiences. The first involved an e-mail from someone who wanted to know if, as a pastor, I “believed in homosexuality.” Apparently a friend of her’s from our church was attempting to dialogue with her about the subject, and had given her some of our information on homosexuality and the bible.

I have to admit I thought it was a little strange someone would ask an openly gay pastor if he “believed” in homosexuality. As with most e-mails on this subject, however, I sensed there were some underlying issues at work. So I replied to her it was best we talked on the phone–or met at her convenience–to discuss these questions, and gave her my contact information. She replied via e-mail  that “it really doesn’t matter what you say, anyway, because I’m a Christian and don’t believe in homosexuality. Not that I don’t care, it just doesn’t matter. I’ll think about calling you.”

Still waiting for the call…

The second experience involved a representative from a local senior center. The center was promoting a health club program at their facility focusing on the 50+ crowd. I liked the concept: older folks usually feel intimidated at most health clubs that focus on the young, buff, and beautiful. So why not provide a place where that intimidation is removed, and people receive the individual attention they deserve? The representative asked to come speak with our congregants about the program. I gave him our service times, and suggested he speak to people at social hour between services, as that time would be the best for getting the most exposure to our congregation as a whole.

I then asked if his facility’s non-discrimination clause included sexual orientation and gender identity. Very long pause and then, “Well, it is the 21st century, after all,” came the reply.

“I understand that,’ I replied, ‘still, about 75% of my congregation identifies as lgbt. So, just as you want seniors to feel comfortable at your facility, I want to make sure all our seniors feel comfortable at your facility. I’m sure you can understand my desire to recommend safe and welcoming facilities and programs for my congregants.”

“Well, I’ll talk to my supervisor and get back to you.”

That was almost a month ago.

In both cases, people contacted me with the desire to talk about an issue. When I didn’t immediately give them the answer they sought, but rather attempted to deepen the conversation a bit by asking for more information, the conversations ended. Can we talk? Apparently, not always.

These and other experiences have caused me to consider the question of why we have such a hard time talking to one another sometimes. Whether we are liberal or conservative, Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Atheist, or people of other faiths or who claim no particular faith, sometimes we just can’t talk. And to be honest, I don’t think the subject matter makes much difference, either. Soemtimes I even wonder if we really want to talk at all.

Or perhaps that’s the real issue; that is, we talk too much without really listening. Perhaps we hear, but don’t really listen. All of us have our strongly-held beliefs about any number of subjects, and it isn’t too difficult to feel threatened when people strongly disagree with our equally strongly-held beliefs. And since we’re so sure we’re right–especially when it comes to politics and religion–why bother?

Perhaps new and different thoughts are just too frightening for some people to consider–especially when it comes to faith and religion. To me it’s sad to think there are some folks who are so afraid God might strike them dead for using the minds and free will they believe God gave them. What does it say about the character of a God who would do such a thing? That is not any god I am interested in at all.

When it comes to the issue of dialogue, maybe we can take a lesson from Aristotle, who is quoted as saying, “It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.” I have also heard this quote adapted to read, “It is the mark of an open mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.” In other words, it never hurts to listen to different viewpoints, to reflect on those viewpoints, and to offer our own in response–all without either a pathological need to “convert” others to our way of thinking, or an irrational fear of offending God and losing our sweet seats in the afterlife.

Who knows? We might even learn something in the process…

Left Behind…Again

Like many people, I’ve missed a few deadlines; and as a result, I’ve been left behind a few times in my life. I’ve normally tried to credit these unintentional mistakes with aging brain cells. Fortunately, and to the best of my memory–remember, we’re talking aging brain cells here–none of those missed deadlines have been crucial or caused undue stress or harm to other people.

Unlike Harold Camping…

Camping, you may remember, has predicted the rapture numerous times–at least 12 dating back to 1978, according to an October 22nd, 2011 ABC News blog post. The latest doomsday deadline was October 21st, 2011,updated from Camping’s previously missed deadline of May 21st, 2011.

The May deadline caused the most public uproar. Millions of dollars were spent advertising the end of the world as we know it. These dollars came from contributions to Camping’s radio ministry. There were stories of people quitting their jobs to spread the word about the coming Armageddon, giving away their retirement funds, and so on.

And then…nothing.

On the weekend of May 21st, I was in Austin, Texas, enjoying pre-graduation festivities at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary. I was scheduled to receive my Doctor of  Ministry on the afternoon of May 22nd. While I don’t believe in a literal rapture and second coming of Jesus scenario as taught in some Christian traditions, I have to admit I thought it would be a real kick in the head if Camping was right. Let’s face it, the rapture could put a serious damper on the graduation ceremonies. Then again, maybe not, since Camping’s followers believe liberals like myself are destined to be “left behind,” anyway–and in Austin I was in some amazing liberal–and faithful–company.

On one hand I feel sorry for Camping and his followers. I want to believe they were–and perhaps still are–sincere in their beliefs and desires to help people avoid eternal damnation. And as someone who has been ridiculed for his beliefs before, I know the unkind comments and jokes have to hurt. Still, predictions like Camping’s are nothing new and the results are always the same. So why do people keep taking these predictions so seriously–especially when words attributed to Jesus in the bible say no one knows when these events are supposed to happen–and many of these folks claim to closely follow the bible’s teachings?

Perhaps all we have to do is take a quick look at the world around us. Economic instability, violence, greed, natural disasters, disease and so on are enough for some people to throw up their hands in resignation. So if you believe this world is screwed up beyond any hope for repair and restoration, then a literal rapture theology just might be for you. Get your ticket punched for sweet seats in the afterlife by saying the right things about Jesus–and Jesus only–then sit back, stay pure, and wait.

Of course by doing so, we essentially guarantee the eventual annihilation of the planet because we have absolved ourselves of any responsibility for caring for the planet, for the “widows and orphans,” and for engaging the other challenges of our time. You know, like the bible and other sacred religious writings and their prophets–including Jesus–instructed humanity to do. Seriously, I find it hard to believe that any religious system based on an eternal rewards and punishments system would actually reward adherents for ignoring its basic teachings on communal responsibility and social justice.

Again, while I don’t believe in a literal second coming of Jesus and rapture as interpreted by some traditional Christian groups, I think it’s possible Jesus actually returns daily. For me, Jesus ”comes back” every time we do the right thing simply because it’s the right thing to  do–and not to upgrade our seating arrangements in the afterlife. The kindom of Universal Life, Love, and Being comes into sight when we feed hungry people, house homeless folk, provide much-needed medical care to people who cannot afford it and address the systemic issues that allow these and other injustices to occur on a daily basis.

Who knows? In the end, maybe we’re  really “left behind” when we refuse to respond to and act upon the best that is within us–a best that some of us call “God.” And the good news is, this “best” is within and accessible by each and every one of us, so none of us need fear being “left behind” ever again.

Blessings on your journeys!

I Now Pronounce You…

“For as much as Richard and Danny have consented together in holy wedlock in the presence of Almighty God and these friends and family, and have pledged their faith in the love of each other, and have declared the same, by virtue of the power vested in me as a minister of the Gospel by the Universal Fellowship of Metropolitan Community Churches and the state of Iowa, pronounce them married in the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and
Sustainer.  Amen.”

With these words, spoken in Davenport, Iowa on October 16^th, 2010, another part of my identity was born—or at least legally recognized in the few states and countries that allow gay marriage, that is. Then on June 1^st, 2011, Richard and I were officially “unionized” in the state of Illinois by virtue of our marriage in Iowa last year. In a nutshell, “unionized” means we’re “sort of married” now in the states that recognize civil unions. That is,
we have most of the same legal rights and responsibilities as heterosexual married couples in the state, and none of the federal benefits that come with marriage.

If I sound bitter, don’t misunderstand me. I’m thankful for the progress made on the gay marriage issue. At the same time, our marriage/civil union raised some interesting issues.
For instance, you can imagine how much fun it is now for us to fill out paperwork that requests our marital status, since most of these forms do not have a “unionized” option. I’m tempted to add a box and label it, “It Depends.”

See, in some places we’re married; in some places we’re unionized, and in most places we’re considered legal strangers. Then there is the whole question of what to call us individually: domestic partners? husbands? spouses, or perhaps “crazy”, as some of our friends have jokingly (I think) called us.

We’ve decided we like to be called “Richard and Danny.”

To be honest, however, Richard and I don’t dwell on these and other semantic issues too much; because even after 15 years, we’re too busy still learning how to navigate the joys and challenges of being a couple. Unfortunately, the marriage license didn’t come with a handbook on how to do this thing called “marriage.”

There is one question, however, we’ve discussed at length. Does marriage make a difference in our relationship? Well, no and yes. No, because I still “encourage” (read “nag”) Richard to follow our doctor’s orders about his diet and exercise, as well as his procrastination tendencies as much as I did before we were married. Richard
still ”encourages” (read, “nags”) me to be more serious about my writing, about working too many hours, and not spending more time on my favorite hobby, cooking; which then usually leads us back to the whole diet and exercise discussion.

We still share the television remote—and we still roll our eyes at each other’s viewing selections. We still love the children and grandchildren we share, and debate what we think is best for them. Sometimes we even ask for the kids’ opinions. Lately we have been discussing how best to take care of my aging mother and stepfather. Oh, and we still love
each other even after saying, “I do.”

Marriage—and now, civil unions—didn’t change any of these things about our lives. When we were married, a light from heaven didn’t fill the church, and an angelic chorus didn’t break out in song —and fire and brimstone didn’t consume the church and wedding guests, either. We didn’t get married to set an example for the people of the church I pastor; and we didn’t get married so God would love us and recognize our relationship, either. The God of our understanding loves everyone and honors all loving relationships—whether governments recognize them or not.

At the same time, marriage—and now civil unions–did change something about our relationship. I just wish I could succinctly name that something. All I know is that “something”—whatever it is—feels good and peaceful.

Who knows? Maybe I should quit trying to analyze it, and simply enjoy the blessing that is
our marriage/civil union/domestic partnership/friendship.

Blessings on all your relationships!