Meeting Bishop Younan and the Gospel of Meaning in Old City Jerusalem

I wrote the following as part of my ELCA Peace Not Walls leadership training trip to Jordan, Palestine and Israel after visiting with Bishop Younan of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Jordan and the Holy Land at Lutheran at Lutheran Church of the Redeemer in Old City, Jerusalem. The intention of our trip was to prepare for leading future groups of young adults to the Holy Land while also working for a just end to the Israeli occupation of Palestine. You can find the writings of my fellow pilgrims on our trip blog here. This is somewhat a continuation of another recent post I wrote about Christian pilgrimage, which you can find here. Please provide feedback if you're able! - Dustin

Just got done meeting with Bishop Younan and it was a fantastic experience... He talked about how between now and April is a key moment in the Palestine/ Israel peace process because whether or not Secretary of State Kerry succeeds in negotiating a two-state solution is going to have far reaching consequences. Bishop Younan also talked a bunch about the idea of accompaniment, that instead of the old missionary we should have a relationship of mutuality, where we share and learn from each other. He specifically said in fact, "accompaniment is the strength of the modern church."

Given how much I've learned from our meeting today, from the other ELCJHL folks we've met with (both clergy and young adults), and other groups here as well, Bishop Younan's statement couldn't be more accurate. The strength of the ELCJHL's young adult program for instance is amazing... if young Lutheran adults throughout the West Bank can be brought together regularly for regional conversations despite a myriad of checkpoints, barriers and other difficulties, perhaps there's a model there we in the ELCA could learn from.

Most importantly though was something Bishop Younan said about pilgrimage and what pilgrimage can mean to those folks who come from a secular context (like my own up in New England). Speaking specifically about groups who come from Scandinavian countries and other secular areas, he said "many people in the Lutheran world are seeking pilgrimage and to find God. People are asking why they are living." This statement really pulled on my heart strings. Throughout seminary as I've learned about how the gospel, the good news of God's work in Jesus is supposed to free troubled consciences, redeem one's soul, and stuff like that, such a message has never really hit home. I frankly don't think about my soul very much at all. I remember when I was a kid seeing scary History Channel shows about the end of the world in the year 2000, I was worried about my soul, but I don't think I've thought much about it since. I pretty much just assume my soul will be rejoined with God in some sort of heaven and I'll be fine.

I think most of my clergy or almost-clergy friends feel the same way I do, because I very rarely hear much about souls being redeemed in most Lutheran sermons. I do hear though a lot about how God loves me, no matter what... it seems like we've either unconsciously or semi-consciously arrived at the idea that God's universal love is the gospel, the good news of what God does in Jesus. Now this is an idea that does help me out, sometimes, but not often. And when I talk to folks my age, most of whom aren't religious at all and have a lot of problems with the Church, and tell them that God loves them no matter what, they generally kind of like the idea that I don't think God hates them for living with their significant others or voting for Democrats, but it still doesn't mean much.

What Bishop Younan said about existential meaning, about people asking why they are living, that really got me thinking about how I experience the gospel. When I'm told God forgives my soul, it doesn't mean much. When I'm told God loves me, that means a little something to me, but isn't news that would wake me up on a Sunday morning. There's definitely folks that such ways of framing the gospel mean a lot for, and I'm not saying we should entirely drop such language. But the idea that God is calling us, propelling us into a life of meaning in relationship with Her and Her creation? Hell yeah, that's really good news! The idea that God gives me something to do, the idea that I'm not a random assortment of atoms with little purpose, that's a truly liberating word for me, that's gospel. I also think that's the sort of gospel all folks are looking for, especially us millennials, it's the sort of gospel you definitely experience on pilgrimage to Palestine, and it's definitely the sort of gospel I intend to preach moving into the future.

God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Acts 17: 16 - 34 or: How I Learned to Stop Whining and Love Christmastime

What follows will form the basis for the first of a four-part Advent adult forum series on the ongoing secular vs. religious "Battle Over Christmas" in American culture. The main premise is that hopeful desire and longing is at the heart of both the Christian liturgical season of Advent and secular Christmastime, and thus that there are more pastoral and useful ways to proclaim the Gospel to folks than zealously critiquing secular Christmastime culture. This adult forum series is the final assignment for an ethics course at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia entitled Christian Discipleship in a Consumer Society. If some congregation actually makes the huge mistake of actually calling me to be a pastor next year (heheh), I'll probably do an adult forum series that's something like this, so I'd love to hear your thoughts.

So here's the deal... I was planning on going in an entirely different direction for this adult forum series until this past Friday. I was sitting in Georgia, enjoying leftovers from Thanksgiving, trying hard not to check my email while on vacation and watching college football when I opened up Facebook and was immediately flooded by blogposts, comments and the like critiquing Black Friday and arguing that we should put Christ back in Christmas. There was even an official Black Friday Death Count that was particularly ominous. Most of what I read though, at least from my Christian sisters and brothers, tended to go in one of two directions. Folks on the more liturgically theologically/ politically conservative side of the spectrum tended to be lamenting the fact that in American culture Christmas is joyfully celebrated throughout the month of December thus resulting in the hopeful, prayerful liturgical season of Advent being ignored. Other issues from these folks included nativity scenes not being allowed on public town greens and the like. Folks on the more liturgically/ theologically/ politically liberal side of the spectrum primarily were attacking the radical consumerism that has become a part of secular Christmastime tradition. Christian criticism of consumerism seemed particularly pointed this year, probably because of Black Friday sales increasingly eating up Thanksgiving itself.

Most of the posts I read made some good points, some more than others, but the one I found most insightful was "On Black Friday" by Micah J. Murray at Redemption Records. A main premise of the post is that its all too easy to zealously tell folks what to do rather than listen to their own perspectives. Check out the perspective of one of the commenters on Micah's blogpost, for instance:

This is a very generous and thoughtful post.

My family is lovely, but we grew up really poor. Money has always been scarce, and as you say, it's easy to be a minimalist when you have no money. And sure, making homemade bread, putting in a garden, and raising goats and chickens sounds idyllic, but becomes less fun and more urgent when your skills determine how you will eat.

Black Friday is an important time for my parents to be able to buy Christmas gifts, but also it's when my mother buys basics like jeans and winter coats for the family. The things she can't make herself she tends to buy at thrift stores or rummage sales, but Black Friday allows my siblings to have new things. It's a small but significant joy.

I love my family and can't imagine a better place in which to grow up, and when people get preachy about what other people should do, it's unkind and offensive. Many families barely get by, and we shouldn't forget or belittle them. ~ Holly Houston

So then, as all Christians, not just pastors, are called to spread the Gospel, especially to folks who haven't heard it, the question simply becomes how should we respond to God's call during our secular, overly consumeristic American Christmastime without sounding like overly zealous, whiny jerks? I really dig the Bible, and find it tends to be a great starting place for resolving these sort of problems. One of my favorite passages, Acts 17:16-34, provides a great deal of insight here:

16While Paul was waiting for them in Athens, he was deeply distressed to see that the city was full of idols. 17So he argued in the synagogue with the Jews and the devout persons, and also in the market-place every day with those who happened to be there. 18Also some Epicurean and Stoic philosophers debated with him. Some said, ‘What does this babbler want to say?’ Others said, ‘He seems to be a proclaimer of foreign divinities.’ (This was because he was telling the good news about Jesus and the resurrection.) 19So they took him and brought him to the Areopagus and asked him, ‘May we know what this new teaching is that you are presenting? 20It sounds rather strange to us, so we would like to know what it means.’ 21Now all the Athenians and the foreigners living there would spend their time in nothing but telling or hearing something new. 

22Then Paul stood in front of the Areopagus and said, ‘Athenians, I see how extremely religious you are in every way. 23For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, “To an unknown god.” What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. 24The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, 25nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things. 26From one ancestor he made all nations to inhabit the whole earth, and he allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of the places where they would live, 27so that they would search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him—though indeed he is not far from each one of us. 28For “In him we live and move and have our being”; as even some of your own poets have said,
“For we too are his offspring.”  

29Since we are God’s offspring, we ought not to think that the deity is like gold, or silver, or stone, an image formed by the art and imagination of mortals. 30While God has overlooked the times of human ignorance, now he commands all people everywhere to repent, 31because he has fixed a day on which he will have the world judged in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed, and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.’ 

32When they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some scoffed; but others said, ‘We will hear you again about this.’ 33At that point Paul left them. 34But some of them joined him and became believers, including Dionysius the Areopagite and a woman named Damaris, and others with them. (NRSV)

Christianity, when it is at it's best at least, tends proclaim the good news of God's act of liberating love in Christ through a culturally relevant means, just like Saint Paul did in Athens by referring to "the altar to an unknown god." Our American culture is no longer a predominately Christian culture, and thus sharing the good news through the same old nativity scenes, Advent calendars and critiques of consumerism is like trying to talk about the Gospel in a foreign language. So, while it doesn't mean we'll be able to reach everybody (even Paul couldn't do that), if we can point to and embrace how Christ is already at work in our American secular Christmastime culture rather than zealously critiquing it, we'd probably do a whole lot better at fulfilling our Christian calling to spread the Gospel.

So, how is Christ at work in American secular Christmastime culture? The central theme of the Christian season of Advent and the true central theme of secular Christmastime is one and the same: creating space for the hopeful longing for the fulfillment of legitimate human desires. Think Christmastime and Santa and reindeers and toys is all about consuming material goods? Think again. In recent decades at least, most branding and advertisements for consumer products or commodities have veered toward emotional branding. It's not about selling the product on its material merits, but rather on the emotions or experiences that having a given product will bring. Just check out this famous Christmastime Folger's Coffee commercial as one example:



Everybody loves Peter! That great nineties hair, epic cable-knit sweater... huge fashion whoa! And everybody in the family is so happy that Peter is home for Christmas! While the commercial somewhat indicates Folger's Coffee smells good, the commercial isn't really about the coffee at all... it's about a longing for family, for togetherness, for lasting memories with loved ones, all legitimate human desires. And buying Folger's Coffee somehow will magically result in the fulfillment of all these desires.

If you still need further evidence that secular Christmastime is about hoping and longing for the fulfillment of legitimate human desires, check out these two famous and (primarily) secular Christmas songs:

David Bowie and Bing Crosby: "Peace on Earth/ Little Drummer Boy" (lyrics here)


The Peanuts: "Christmastime is Here" (lyrics here)


See? These two songs, and plenty of other cultural documents indicate secular Christmastime at its heart isn't about the toys or plasma TVs or wild drinking parties but rather hopeful longing for legitimate human desires: peace, family, love, joyful memories, cozy fires, olden times and ancient rhymes. Christ is present in all these legitimate human desires, and it would be pretty darn silly for Christians not to share the good news through these legitimate "altars to an unknown God."

So, the next question becomes how can we talk about and reflect on legitimate on the hopeful longing for the fulfillment of legitimate human desires through the lens of the good news of God's act of liberating love in Christ? While there's plenty of sinners/ saints who could help us out in this regard from our collective Christian heritage, I'll bring up two here, one for more rational thinking folks and one for more spiritual/ mystical thinking folks: Martin Luther and Gregory of Nyssa. While they both come at the question of desire using somewhat opposite approaches, they pretty much land in the same place.

Let's start with good ol Luther, a major 16th century reformer whose work pretty much touched off the Protestant Reformation. He's probably a better resource for more rational sorts of thinkers. I'll just provide one excerpt from his model sermon for "The Gospel for Christmas Eve" on Luke 2: 1 - 14, but I encourage you to check it out in its entirety. You can find it in Volume 52 of the English Edition of Luther's Works:

For the Gospel teaches that Christ was born for our sake and that he did everything and suffered all things for our sake, just as the angel says here: "I announce to you a great joy which will come to all people; for to you is born this day a Savior who is Christ the Lord" [Luke 2:10-11] From these words you see clearly that he was born for us.
He does not simply say: "Christ is born," but: "for you is he born." Again, he does not say: "I announce a joy," but: "to you do I announce a great joy." Again, this joy will not remain in Christ, but is for all people. A damned or wicked man does not have this faith, nor can he have it. For the right foundation of all salvation which unites Christ and the believing heart in this manner is that everything that have individually becomes something they hold in common...

A central teaching here is that while its extremely legitimate to have all sorts of human desires, including desiring God, God desires us more than we could ever desire anything, even to the point of being born in a manger amongst farm animals to an unwed virgin and a lowly carpenter.

Let's see what Gregory of Nyssa has to say, a 4th century Cappadocian Father who writes from a more spiritual/ mystical perspective. The following excerpt is from his "First Homily on the Song of Songs," discussing Song 1:1-4. I encourage you to check out the whole thing, especially as the more mystical side of Christian theology is lesser known in our contemporary times, at least in the Western churches:

Moses conversed with God face to face, as scripture testifies [Dt 34.10], and he thereby acquired a still greater desire for these kisses after the theophanies. He sought God as if he had never seen him. So it is with all others in whom the desire for God is deeply embedded: they never cease to desire, but every enjoyment of God they turn into the kindling of a still more intense desire.

Even now the soul united to God never has its fill of enjoyment. The more it enjoys his beauty, the more its desire increases. The words of the bridegroom are spirit and life [Jn 5:24], and everyone who clings to the Spirit becomes spirit. He who attaches himself to life passes from death into life as the Lord has said. Thus the virginal soul desires to draw near to the fountain of spiritual life...

A main premise here is that God is the gift that keeps on giving. Although God draws us closer and closer to Herself in faith, our ever increasing desire for her can never be satiated, through our own action or otherwise. Thus, the central focus once again becomes not on what we're doing, but how God's love is for us an infinite "fountain of spiritual life."

Martin Luther and Gregory of Nyssa are only two of many possible saints/ sinners in our collective Christian history that can help us think about how to proclaim the good news of God's act of liberating love in Christ through the "altars to an unknown god" that are the legitimate human desires celebrated during secular Christmastime. I'd love to hear more perspectives as well.

As a final bit (and one I don't have a lot of time reflect on), check out this letter from Lutheran World Federation General Secretary Martin Junge. Entitled "God’s Free Gift of Grace in Market-Driven Times" and written for Reformation Day 2013, it talks about how the LWF's upcoming celebration of the 500th anniversary of the reformation in 2017 will focus on three related themes: 1) salvation is not for sale, 2) human beings are not for sale, and 3) creation is not for sale. This letter can definitely help us think about consumerism, the hopeful longing for legitimate human desires celebrated by secular Christmastime and how we can respond as Christians. Thanks so much!

God's peace,
Dustin


Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

"Don't Worry Father, I'm not a Sodomite," NYC Bath Houses, Khalil Gibran and Feeding God's Sheep

So I'm in the midst of writing my "approval essay," which means I'm desperately trying to finish the essay I have to write before going to a final interview with folks in New England where we'll discern whether or not I should be a pastor.

This year's prompt for the essay are questions about "missional leadership." In less churchy language, this means leadership that inspires folks in churches to get out in the world, spread the gospel and help other folks out rather than sitting around arguing about what new furniture to buy, etc. Luckily, the prompt also states, "this theme is motivated by a desire for a deep and rich conversation about the church and its participation in God's mission." So, I figure it'd be pretty darn missional of me to share my writings thus far, in order to spark wider conversation outside of just the folks I'll be meeting with a couple months from now.  What follows is the third part of a three-part essay, specifically about a sermon I've previously preached on missional leadership.  You can watch a video of the sermon here.  I'd love to hear what you think!

What follows is a sermon I preached on April 14, 2013 primarily on the appointed Gospel message for the day, Saint John 21: 1- 29 at Saint Peter’s Church in Midtown Manhattan where I served this past year as Vicar. It highlights the way I approach talking about missional leadership while still proclaiming the Gospel:

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Alleluia! Christ is risen! I want to begin tonight with a story… a story that’s a bit humorous and a bit sad, but also filled with amazingly Good News. This is a story about an experience I had about month ago – it was a Saturday evening and I had just finished up an immigration advocacy workshop here at Saint Peter’s. I was absolutely on top of the world… my committee and I had been planning the workshop for months, and it had gone off perfectly. I was also excited because of where I was heading next… for weeks I had wanted to attend the weekly prayer vigil for marriage equality at Saint John’s Lutheran Church down in the Village and this was the first Saturday evening I could make it. So I hopped on the subway, still wearing my clergy collar, and I quickly realized this was going to be a very interesting trip… it was not only a Saturday night, but in fact the weekend of Saint Patrick’s Day, a commemoration day which is apparently celebrated quite heavily here in the City of New York. My subway car was jammed full with college kids and other folks, decked out in all sorts of light-up shamrocks, leprechaun gear, green t-shirts, etc. yelling and slurring their words… even though it was only around 7pm many of them had clearly been drinking for hours.

For time first time in awhile I felt self-conscious in my clergy collar, knowing that it would make me a sort of target in such a situation and sure enough, not long after we got moving, a young man stumbled up to me and exclaimed loud enough for much of the subway car to hear, “Don’t worry about me Father… I’m not a Sodomite!” I was of course immediately offended, and wanted to respond angrily about how insensitive the young man had been, etc. but I was able to hold back while I composed myself. After recognizing that I had probably said similarly dumb things on similar nights throughout my own college years, I was able to somewhat see the humor in the situation and instead clumsily blurted out, "I would prefer we use different language, but I'm a Lutheran, and many of the folks in my church are actually quite down with the sodomites... I'm on my way to a prayer vigil for marriage equality right now." Now a couple folks in the subway car actually cheered, others breathed a sigh of relief, but the young frat bro responded back to me a in a truly awesome way. He said something like, "Oh wow, I was just joking, I'm sorry... but knowing that is actually pretty cool. I've never heard about Lutherans before... tell me a bit about your church." We ended up having a great conversation and I left him with a handshake and my business card.

The sad part about this story of course is that when that fellow saw me in my collar, when he identified me as a Christian; his first thoughts weren’t about God’s love, or forgiveness, or liberation or even worshipping God… his first thoughts were “Oh, that’s someone who doesn’t like gay people… who doesn’t like people that are different.” And honestly of course, who could blame him… For far too long, perhaps even for much of our Christian history, it’s unfortunately sad but true that a large portion of the Church has not stood for love, forgiveness or liberation… it’s instead inadvertently stood for intolerance, backward thinking, perhaps even bigotry. So then, where is the Good News in this story?

Well quite simply… it’s that in even a situation where so large a portion of our society, particularly open-minded young people, have been so absolutely alienated by the Church, the Gospel still proves irresistible. Sure, the young man I met that night on the subway still might never step through a sanctuary door, but the simple Good News I goofily conveyed that there are communities that believe God loves everyone, that there are communities that see all people as precious children of God, made him get immensely excited… Such Good News perhaps even made him stop and think about how he himself was a child of God too. Yes my sisters and brothers, even in this day, in this age, in this city, the Gospel still proves irresistible because it reminds us of who we truly are… children of God, loved and called to share that love with others… loved and called to feed God’s sheep.

Feeding God’s sheep, sharing the good news… the big fancy word for it in the Church is evangelism, and it often can seem pretty scary. And all too often it is pretty scary, as too many Christians have taken Jesus’ command to “feed my sheep” to instead mean “tell everyone else that they’re wrong… that they’re going to hell or something like that.” Let me be absolutely clear - by no means is that what Jesus really wants us to do… its simply not what evangelism truly is. And luckily, in today’s Gospel story, Jesus provides us with a better model. He isn’t telling Peter about his many faults; about how goofy it was of him to be fishing naked only to put on his clothes before diving in the sea… even though that certainly is pretty goofy. Instead, Jesus simply invites Peter to the table, welcomes him to sit by that charcoal fire, breaks bread, eats with him and affirms who he is as child of God, no matter how goofy Peter acts or what Peter might do.

That’s because true evangelism, truly feeding God’s sheep is not really about what Peter is doing, or what I’m doing, or what you’re doing at all… its about what God is doing through Christ. For when we know God’s love and are affirmed through bread and wine, through water and words and the consolation of others in our communities, we simply can’t help but share that love and affirmation right? Simply put, we can’t help it, the Gospel is irresistible. So when Jesus commands us to feed his sheep, what he’s really saying is that you are loved, that you are okay no matter how goofy or messed up you think you are, that you are welcome at God’s table. And in knowing that amazingly Good News, by golly we can’t help but share it with others. Alleluia! Christ is risen!

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I fully realize portions of this sermon could not be preached at many congregations across the ELCA. At Saint Peter’s Church however, such a message proved not only welcomed but pastorally necessary. It is a uniquely amazing place, a progressive parish where all are truly welcome, a place where you can see a trans-sexual parishioner joyfully walking through the narthex wearing a bikini top on the way to the Pride Parade and a place where an elderly, homeless man and recovering alcoholic can become an essential community leader. The folks at Saint Peter’s, like everyone in the Northeast, had been through a tumultuous year. Many parishioners were directly affected by Superstorm Sandy, only to go through a trying presidential election season and the horrific shootings only an hour north in Newtown, CT. Given the large population of LGBT folks and Catholics in the congregation, the recent election of Pope Francis and the upcoming Supreme Court rulings on marriage equality were sources of hope but also additional stress. Only two Sundays after a joyous Easter Vigil, it was a time that called for humor but also for the creation of space to mourn the difficulties the Church, the Body of Christ has faced over human sexuality.

The Biblical claims and theological convictions of the text were timely, as Saint Peter’s was celebrating its 150th Anniversary while in the midst of drafting a new mission statement. Despite its consistently increasing membership, some folks worried the parish was in decline after making a difficult decision earlier in the year to decrease the pastoral staff due to financial concerns. Finally, I was preaching at Jazz Vespers, the Saint Peter’s liturgy that particularly attracts new members. Jesus’ message to feed his sheep and follow Him could not have arrived at a better time. The text puts forward two theological lessons and also an essential model for evangelism: While Jesus indicates the Gospel is for everyone and we’re called to share it, the earlier failed attempt of the disciples to fish shows we can’t do it on our own... we need Jesus! The evangelism model Jesus’ illustrates for us is a powerful one, much different than previous models of destroying foreign cultures or beating folks into submission. Rather, Jesus goes out to the disciples and meets them where they are, fishing naked on The Sea of Tiberias. He does NOT just sit at home waiting to welcome them in. After reaching out, Jesus simply prepares a meal, invites the disciples to join Him, and has a conversation. Evangelism has become such a negative word in our culture, and largely for good reason. In this sermon, I tried to proclaim to the people of Saint Peter’s that with a little effort to follow Jesus’ model and the work of the Spirit, we could reconstruct evangelism in the positive light of Christian hospitality and liberation.

The way I prepared this sermon was pretty typical, although perhaps unconventional. Early in my internship year, a close friend introduced me to a place called the Wall Street Bath in Lower Manhattan. A Russian-Turkish sauna/ bathhouse, it’s probably my favorite place in all of New York City and oasis from all the craziness outside. When I was initially told about the place, I was concerned it was one of the hook-up spots in similar establishments that New York City is supposedly well known for, but its very strictly not one of those at all. Instead, its populated by an odd mix of Wall Street bankers, immigrants from various Eastern European countries of all ages and orthodox Jews. There’s even the Buddhist equivalent of a pastor from a temple next door who frequents the establishment, and we had a bunch of great conversations over the year.

At any rate, whenever I was scheduled to preach, I made sure I had at least a half-day to get out of my office at the United Nations (I strongly dislike offices, and could never manage to write a sermon there) and would head down to the Wall Street Bath, with a bathing suit, a Bible and a bunch of books. After initially reading the lectionary passages through a couple times, I’d usually go into the saunas to either meditatively pray or engage folks in conversation about the main themes of the text... people were almost always interested in talking, and even more intriguing once I told them I was preparing a sermon. After doing that for awhile, I’d watch the news and reflect long and hard about what issues the parish was currently facing, only to then go back and do a closer read of the texts and their surrounding passages. Finally, I’d start to consult the other books I brought with me, and by the end of the day, I’d at very least have an outline of my sermon ready to go.

While my sermon writing process always allowed plenty of space for God to speak to me both through sacred silence and conversation with a diverse group of individuals, on the day I wrote the particular sermon above, I believe God really spoke to me through the following passage from Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet. While it’s pretty long and I’m running out of space, it’s also simply too awesome not to include in it’s entirety:

And an old priest said, “Speak to us of Religion.” And [the Prophet] said: “Have I spoke this day of aught else? Is not religion all deeds and all reflection, and that which is neither deed nor reflection, but a wonder and a surprise ever springing in the soul, even while the hands hew the stone or tend the loom? Who can separate his faith from his actions, or his belief from his occupations? Who can spread his hours before him, saying, ‘This for God and this for myself; This for my soul, and this other for my body?’ All your hours are wings that beat through space from self to self. He who wears his morality but as his best garment were better naked. The wind and the sun will tear no holes in his skin. And he who defines his conduct by ethics imprisons his song-bird in a cage.

The freest song comes not through bars and wires. And he to whom worshipping is a window, to open but also to shut, has not yet visited the house of his soul whose windows are from dawn to dawn. Your daily life is your temple and your religion. Whenever you enter into it take with you your all. Take the plough and the forge and the mallet and the lute, the things you have fashioned in necessity or for delight. For in revery you cannot rise above your achievements nor fall lower than your failures. And take with you all men: For in adoration you cannot fly higher than their hopes nor humble yourself lower than despair.

And if you would know God be not therefore a solver of riddles. Rather look about you and you shall see Him playing with your children. And look into space; you shall see Him walking in the cloud, outstretching His arms in the lightning and descending in rain. You shall see Him smiling in the flowers, then rising and waving His hands in trees.

Okay, so everything Gibran writes above doesn’t stick to Lutheran theology, but given that he was a somewhat Maronite, fully Lebanese-American writing in the 1920s, he comes pretty close. I could have done a better job conveying some the key missional aspects of the text from Saint John, the conversations I held at the Wall Street Bath that day, and the way the Spirit spoke to me through Gibran’s writings; primarily, I should have added some concrete examples of what Christian evangelism and mission could like at Saint Peter’s, rather than just using the generality of inviting folks to a meal.

On the whole though, the sermon worked well, and I received extremely positive feedback. I proclaimed the Gospel that God loves all Her children in a humorous yet serious way, especially to all those LGBT folks and allies troubled by the constant barrage of hate coming from our conservative sisters and brothers in Christ. Additionally, I proclaimed that God liberates our whole selves through Christ: we are freed to live out our whole lives and respond to God’s love in all we say and do, not just what we do at church or what we do on a Sunday morning. I conveyed that our whole lives are our temple and our religion. Finally, I reaffirmed that not only does God welcome all folks into His loving embrace, but that we should always be ready and willing to tell our story, to invite all of humanity in its rich diversity into God’s loving arms with us.

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Bishop-elect Eaton on Morning Joe, The Dave Matthews Band and Liberating Love

So as many folks I speak regularly with know, I'm in the midst of writing my "approval essay," which means I'm desperately trying to finish the really long assignment (roughly twenty pages) that I have to write before going to a final interview with folks in New England where we'll discern whether or not I should be a pastor.

This year's prompts for the approval essay are all questions about "missional leadership." In less churchy language, this means leadership that inspires folks in churches to get out in the world, spread the gospel and help other folks out rather than sitting around arguing about what new furniture to buy, etc. Luckily, the prompt also states, "this theme is motivated by a desire for a deep and rich conversation about the church and its participation in God's mission." So, I figure it'd be pretty darn missional of me to share my writings thus far, in order to spark wider conversation outside of just the folks I'll be meeting with a couple months from now.  What follows is the second part of a three-part essay, and it's specifically about my core theological commitments and missional leadership.  I'd love to hear what you think!

The Gospel, the good news of God’s act of liberating love in Christ, is a free gift of God for everyone. The Gospel is a free gift of God for everyone, and thanks be to God for this core tenet of Lutheran theology! Yet, we must humbly admit that in many congregations, such a beautiful theological foundation simply doesn’t play out in Lutheran practice. I’m painfully reminded of this problem when I all too frequently see “Camp Calumet” listed as the religion of friends or former campers on Facebook rather than “Christianity.” Why is that our young people in New England seem to relate primarily to a place in the woods hours away from home rather than their local faith community (if they have one at all)? This isn’t just a problem with young folks either, of course... most of my friends a few years older than me, many of whom are now starting families, don’t really feel a need to go to Church or even baptize their newborn children.

Even before starting seminary really, but especially since witnessing a “Conversation with the Nones” (folks unaffiliated with an organized faith community), a forum which Bishop Jim Hazelwood organized at the New England Synod Assembly this past spring, I’ve been thinking deeply about these issues. While I’ve certainly not come to any definitive conclusions, I have a hunch the problem is not primarily the way we worship or that we’re not progressive enough or even that we’re not welcoming to visitors on a Sunday morning. No, my sisters and brothers, our problem is deeper than such concerns: guided by the Spirit, we must discern how to boldly proclaim the good news of the ever-moving Triune God in a 21st century world profoundly hungry for such good news. To put it another way, the Gospel has not changed, and neither has the unique insights of our Lutheran theological heritage, but folks are understandably asking different questions than their ancestors were five hundred years ago, we must address these questions.

For example, what follows is the concluding paragraph of a paper I wrote for a Lutheran Confessions course during my first year of seminary:

The gospel is important to Lutherans because faith proceeds from the gospel and it is through faith that we receive the forgiveness of sins on account of Christ. Brought to contrition by the law we are in turn compelled to the promise of the gospel. This promise is known through the Holy Spirit working in spoken Word and visible Word, the sacraments. The promise of the gospel brings comfort to the conscience, and therefore allows for faith. Through faith we are brought into union with Christ, who exchanges righteousness for our sins, justifying us before God. Justification frees our hearts to do good works out of love for God instead of fear, serving our neighbor freely as the part of the body of Christ.

From a theological perspective, I think did pretty well here... not to be overly suggestive, but its a paragraph a Candidacy Committee could be proud of! Yet, while I still absolutely, positively confess everything written in the paragraph above, I don’t think it would mean much to the folks unaffiliated with a faith community at synod assembly, and it sure isn’t a missional way of proclaiming the good news. Folks like those on stage at synod assembly, and in fact most people I know, seem a lot more interested in being part of a strong community, in having the space to grow and explore their relationship with the Divine without judgement, and simply trying to put food on the table while sending their kids to college.

So then, what’s the answer? How can we boldly proclaim the Gospel to folks in a way that speaks to their contemporary context while staying true to our Lutheran tradition? Interestingly enough, just this morning, on the MSNBC show Morning Joe, Bishop-elect Elizabeth Eaton laid it out extremely well:

“... and I really do hope to be a voice for the good news of the gospel... this business about grace that we’re loved and deeply cared for by a God who loves us. And because of that, that sets us free to love the world and be in service to the world.”

In only four minutes and twenty-two seconds, Bishop-elect Eaton boldly proclaimed the Gospel to folks across the country as they were watching Morning Joe, eating breakfast and starting their day. Furthermore, due the immense communicative power of what I like to think of as “printing press 2.0,” or social media, Bishop-elect Eaton’s interview went viral, proclaiming the Gospel to folks around the world. A number of my friends who have very little connection to the Lutheran church were even discussing the interview on Facebook and Twitter, and even more importantly in offline conversations, building community around the Gospel. In fact, two days after the airing of Bishop-elect Eaton’s interview (I’m now writing two days after I wrote the beginning of this paragraph), the clip is still the most watched video on the Morning Joe website.

This is absolutely amazing! What then about Bishop-elect Eaton’s message proved so powerful and resonated so strongly with our fellow Americans? If you look closely at the quote above, she paired two key concepts: love and freedom. The love of God in Christ frees us from our everyday, mundane lives into communion with the Holy Community and with one another, thereby allowing us to look upon our lives (and serve our neighbors through our given vocations) through the eyes of grace. The free gift of God in Christ, my sisters and brothers, is Christian freedom, a concept at the heart of the Lutheran theological tradition:

... a Christian lives not in himself, but in Christ and in his neighbor. Otherwise he is not a Christian. He lives in Christ through faith, in his neighbor through love. By faith he is caught up beyond himself into God. By love he descends beneath himself into his neighbor. Yet he always remains in God and in his love, as Christ says in John I [:51], “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man." (Luther, Freedom of a Christian)

Not only is Christian freedom a central Lutheran message, but its also a message our world is profoundly hungry for. All too many Americans (if they’re lucky) have to get up morning after morning, sit in a long commute, only to then sit in a cubicle in front of a computer all day, all in order to barely put food on the table. As the rich get richer and the poor get poorer, not only in America but around the world, an increasing number of folk face even greater oppression, whether it be from a corrupt government, disease, poverty, hunger, addiction, war or the bloat of their own extravagant wealth. At the same time, folks are more connected than ever before in one global, digital community; when we are inspired and when we are informed, we now have the ability to increasingly help bear each others burdens. Just talking about a loving God that cares for us and forgives us in such a unique situation is great, but it is not quite enough... we’ve been doing that in many churches for a while now.

We cannot just proclaim the love of God in Christ as some sort of warm fuzzy feeling we experience for an hour every Sunday morning that temporarily takes our pain away before we socialize over burned coffee. No! In doing so, we’re just ravaging God’s creation and wasting resources to heat, cool and maintain huge, comfortable but empty buildings where we deal out Marx’s “opiate of the masses,” (a drug we increasingly get paid less and less for). Such work is simply not sustainable, and even more importantly, its a waste of time. God’s love literally does something to us, it liberates us, it free us from the weight of whatever may oppress us into a new existence of discipleship in Christ:

The disciple is dragged out of his relative security into a life of absolute insecurity (that is, in truth, into the absolute security and safety of the fellowship of Jesus), from a life which is observable and calculable (it is, in fact, quite incalculable) into a life where everything is unobservable and fortuitous (that is, into one which is necessary and calculable), out of the realm of finite (which is in truth the infinite) into the realm of infinite possibilities (which is the one liberating reality). (Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship)

The life of discipleship is the one liberating reality, a realm of infinite possibilities, and this is profoundly good news! In this liberating reality, we’re freed to not just welcome in but in fact go out to folks like artists, activists, the LGBT community, singles and young people that the Church has turned away for far too long. In this liberating reality, we’re freed to discern with disciples how they can creatively engage with people of other faiths and with secular institutions to better serve their neighbors living in an increasingly pluralistic society. In this liberating reality, we’re freed to carefully and prayerfully move past our continued hangups around human sexuality while still being good stewards of the bodies and relationships that the Triune God has given us. In this liberating reality, we’re freed to embrace our theology of the cross and recognize that we don’t always have the answers. And in this liberating reality, we’re freed to actually step foot outside our church doors to boldly engage in Christian mission to our local communities and in our everyday lives.

How do we proclaim the good news of God’s act of liberating love in Christ to a world that’s so hungry for it yet increasingly doesn’t know what the heck we’re talking about? We simply follow Saint Paul’s example:

Then Paul stood in front of the Areopagus and said, ‘Athenians, I see how extremely religious you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, “To an unknown god.” What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things. From one ancestor he made all nations to inhabit the whole earth, and he allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of the places where they would live, so that they would search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him—though indeed he is not far from each one of us (Acts 17: 22 - 27, NRSV).

Part of the reason Camp Calumet is so good at cultivating Christian community is that its counselors teach about the Triune God through the culturally sensitive lens of “an unknown god.” Almost everyone I meet, Christians, folks who are “spiritual,” and even most atheists, seem to think there’s something outside themselves, something that they usually wish they could connect with better, even if its just the human spirit. The Athenians, despite all their idols of silver and stone, knew there was something else, something they really couldn’t put their finger on, and it was through the “unknown God” that Paul teaches them of Christ.

We’re all searching and struggling, groping for at very least this “unknown God,” and even the most anti-church campers at Calumet (and there’s plenty of them) feel much the same way. The counselors then don’t use gimmicky Christian rappers or acoustic guitar songs about kissing boyfriend Jesus, but rather teach of Christ through things native to the campers’ culture, using the near-universal yearning for the “unknown God” as an entry point. Perhaps my most cherished example of sharing the good news in this manner is through evening devotionals or “devos,” where the counselor usually plays a song or shares a story, leads brief discussion and ends with Bible verse and prayer. One of my favorite songs I used to play for devos is “Don’t Feed the Pig” by Dave Matthews Band:



Through its eloquent talk of the power of liberating love and the wonder of being grounded in the present moment, “Pig” profoundly speaks to the universal yearning for the “unknown God” inside each and everyone one of us. While I certainly was not nearly as theologically versed back when I was a camp counselor, I’d usually play the song and explain how for me, Christ was that source of liberating love Dave Matthews was talking about. It led to some truly amazing conversations (I mostly worked with teenage campers), and it did so while proclaiming the Gospel in a missional way that strongly reflected our Lutheran theological tradition.

"Don't Worry Father, I'm Not a Sodomite!" (preaching video)

What follows is the video and rough manuscript of a sermon I preached last Sunday during Saint Peter's Church Jazz Vespers on the Easter 3C gospel text, Saint John 21: 1 - 19.  It's primarily about evangelism and the irresistability of the gospel... I'd love to hear what you think.

 

Alleluia! Christ is risen! I want to begin tonight with a story… a story that’s a bit humorous and a bit sad, but also filled with amazingly Good News. This is a story about an experience I had about month ago – it was a Saturday evening and I had just finished up an immigration advocacy workshop here at Saint Peter’s. I was absolutely on top of the world… my committee and I had been planning the workshop for months, and it had gone off perfectly. I was also excited because of where I was heading next… for weeks I had wanted to attend the weekly prayer vigil for marriage equality at Saint John’s Lutheran Church down in the Village and this was the first Saturday evening I could make it. So I hopped on the subway, still wearing my clergy collar, and I quickly realized this was going to be a very interesting trip… it was not only a Saturday night, but in fact the weekend of Saint Patrick’s Day, a commemoration day which is apparently celebrated quite heavily here in the City of New York. My subway car was jammed full with college kids and other folks, decked out in all sorts of light-up shamrocks, leprechaun gear, green t-shirts, etc. yelling and slurring their words… even though it was only around 7pm many of them had clearly been drinking for hours.

For time first time in awhile I felt self-conscious in my clergy collar, knowing that it would make me a sort of target in such a situation and sure enough, not long after we got moving, a young man stumbled up to me and exclaimed loud enough for much of the subway car to hear, “Don’t worry about me Father… I’m not a Sodomite!” I was of course immediately offended, and wanted to respond angrily about how insensitive the young man had been, etc. but I was able to hold back while I composed myself. After recognizing that I had probably said similarly dumb things on similar nights throughout my own college years, I was able to somewhat see the humor in the situation and instead clumsily blurted out, "I would prefer we use different language, but I'm a Lutheran, and many of the folks in my church are actually quite down with the sodomites... I'm on my way to a prayer vigil for marriage equality right now." Now a couple folks in the subway car actually cheered, others breathed a sigh of relief, but the young frat bro responded back to me a in a truly awesome way. He said something like, "Oh wow, I was just joking, I'm sorry... but knowing that is actually pretty cool. I've never heard about Lutherans before... tell me a bit about your church." We ended up having a great conversation and I left him with a handshake and my business card.

The sad part about this story of course is that when that fellow saw me in my collar, when he identified me as a Christian; his first thoughts weren’t about God’s love, or forgiveness, or liberation or even worshipping God… his first thoughts were “Oh, that’s someone who doesn’t like gay people… who doesn’t like people that are different.” And honestly of course, who could blame him… For far too long, perhaps even for much of our Christian history, it’s unfortunately sad but true that a large portion of the Church has not stood for love, forgiveness or liberation… it’s instead inadvertently stood for intolerance, backward thinking, perhaps even bigotry. So then, where is the Good News in this story? Well quite simply… it’s that in even a situation where so large a portion of our society, particularly open-minded young people, have been so absolutely alienated by the Church, the Gospel still proves irresistible. Sure, the young man I met that night on the subway still might never step through a sanctuary door, but the simple Good News I goofily conveyed that there are communities that believe God loves everyone, that there are communities that see all people as precious children of God, made him get immensely excited… Such Good News perhaps even made him stop and think about how he himself was a child of God too. Yes my sisters and brothers, even in this day, in this age, in this city, the Gospel still proves irresistible because it reminds us of who we truly are… children of God, loved and called to share that love with others… loved and called to feed God’s sheep.

Feeding God’s sheep, sharing the good news… the big fancy word for it in the Church is evangelism,
and it often can seem pretty scary. And all too often it is pretty scary, as too many Christians have taken Jesus’ command to “feed my sheep” to instead mean “tell everyone else that they’re wrong… that they’re going to hell or something like that.” Let me be absolutely clear - by no means is that what Jesus really wants us to do… its simply not what evangelism truly is. And luckily, in today’s Gospel story, Jesus provides us with a better model. He isn’t telling Peter about his many faults; about how goofy it was of him to be fishing naked only to put on his clothes before diving in the sea… even though that certainly is pretty goofy. Instead, Jesus simply invites Peter to the table, welcomes him to sit by that charcoal fire, breaks bread, eats with him and affirms who he is as child of God, no matter how goofy Peter acts or what Peter might do. That’s because, true evangelism, truly feeding God’s sheep is not really about what Peter is doing, or what I’m doing, or what you’re doing at all… its about what God is doing through Christ. For when we know God’s love and are affirmed through bread and wine, through water and words and the consolation of others in our communities, we simply can’t help but share that love and affirmation right? Simply put, we can’t help it, the Gospel is irresistible. So when Jesus commands us to feed his sheep, what he’s really saying is that you are loved, that you are okay no matter how goofy or messed up you think you are, that you are welcome at God’s table. And in knowing that amazingly Good News, by golly we can’t help but share it with others. Alleluia! Christ is risen!


Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

For Progressive Christians, Evangelism is Easy

So to be fair, the title of this post is meant to be a bit of a shocker... evangelism, community development, reaching out to the unchurched and the like is of course difficult and time consuming ministry, and by no means do I want to underestimate the essential work of my many sisters and brothers engaged in such activities.  That said, particularly in the context of hearing so many people of faith lately fretting over the future of the Church and declining attendance numbers in their congregations, I think it's important to recognize that from one perspective, progressive Christians really do have some strengths that are immensely attractive to the unchurched, particularly those with low religious literacy.

I'll draw on one experience I had this past weekend to illustrate my point.  In New York City where I live and work, Saint Patrick's Day (and in fact that whole weekend) is celebrated with vigor, to put it lightly.  With that background in mind, you can only imagine some of the interesting conversations I had while wearing my collar and riding on the subway Saturday night.  After wrapping up an immigration advocacy workshop at Saint Peter's Church where I currently serve as Vicar, I hopped on the E Line down to Greenwich Village in the early evening hours in order to attend the weekly Prayer Vigil for Marriage Equality held at Saint John's Lutheran Church on Christopher Street.  My subway car was absolutely filled with drunken St. Paddy's "celebrants," and one of them, a college-aged frat bro leaned over to me and jokingly said quite loudly, "Don't worry Father, I'm not a sodomite!"  All the folks surrounding us in subway car, including many of the frat bro's buddies immediately got tense, wondering how I'd respond.

For a few moments I felt offended and kind of angry, but after remembering that I had frequently been just that frat boy during my own college years, I calmed down, saw the humor in the situation, and said back equally loudly, "I probably would prefer we use different language, but I'm a Lutheran, and many of the folks in my church are actually quite down with the sodomites... I'm on my way to a prayer vigil for marriage equality right now."  A couple folks in the subway car actually cheered, others breathed a sigh of relief, but the young frat bro responded back to me a in a truly awesome way.  He said something like, "Oh wow, I was just joking, I'm sorry... but knowing that is actually pretty cool.  I've never heard about Lutherans before... tell me a bit about your church."  We ended up having a great conversation and I left him with a handshake and my business card.

I may never speak with that young man again... he might not even remember having that conversation with me, but honestly, I run into these sort of situations all the time.  Even while writing this post in a Philly coffee shop, another young man saw the "Jesus is with the 99%" sticker on the back of my laptop and briefly came over to speak with me.

What's my point in telling this story?  Essentially, our more conservative sisters and brothers in Christ have at this point so alienated a large portion of society, particularly open-minded young people, that the simple notion that progressive Christians are out there, that there are Christians who don't demonize those who are "different," ends up being a really exciting idea.  In general, people who have been harmed by the Church in the past and people who never had much experience with the Church at all are immensely attracted to the idea that some Christians actually affirm that all folks are made in the image of God and are reconciled to Her in Christ... who would've thought?  So although there's of course a lot of follow-up and community building needed afterward, this fact absolutely makes the initial conversations that are part of spreading the Gospel quite easy for progressive Christians.

So, my sisters and brothers, if you're a progressive Christian, if you're a Christian for marriage equality, if you're a Christian who believes that all should be welcomed into this country whether or not they have the right piece of paper, if you're a Christian who believes in a women's right to control her own body, I encourage you to share that good news... it might end up in the literally bringing someone from death to a new life in Christ.

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Tell Me About God and Stuff

I had a very humbling experience yesterday during Clinical Pastoral Education that’s worth some reflection.  About a week ago I was called in to work with an older man who was facing very difficult decisions about end of life care… he kept asking me what heaven would be like while trying to figure out whether or not he wanted to be switched over to ‘comfort measures only.’  After a couple days of talking with him, we were able to pinpoint exactly what he was afraid of and work with that fear.  We were also able to get a lawyer to write up a will and I also was fortunate enough to spend some time with the patient’s family.  Late last week the patient was at peace enough with his decision to switch over to ‘comfort measures only’ and I guess I thought the hardest part of my job with that patient was done.  I assumed I would accompany the patient as he approached death over the coming days, working with whatever fears and losses he was facing yet not really facing any specifically new challenges myself.

Boy, was I wrong!  When I stopped in to visit yesterday, the patient was unconscious, but I had a great opportunity to spend some additional time with the patient’s sister in-law and nephew.  The patient’s sister in-law had been a lifelong infrequently attending member of a Baptist church in the area but I soon discovered that the patient’s nephew, a man roughly forty years old, thought he knew very little about God, and even less about Christianity.  He said that he always had questions and always was accepting of other folk’s beliefs, but simply hadn’t been taught much himself… he sort of remembered carving a pumpkin at some church fair as child, and that was the only time he ever participated in any type of organized religion.  The nephew did say though that he was concerned that his twelve year old daughter wouldn’t be brought up with any religion, and that it was hard for him to answer some of the basic human questions she was beginning to ask.  After explaining his situation, he asked abruptly: “Could you tell me about God and stuff?”  He then followed that question up with another: “What do Christians believe?”

Could I tell this guy about ‘God and stuff?’  One would think I should be able to… I am studying to be a pastor and have already gotten through one year of seminary.  I’m fairly comfortable giving sermons, leading adult forums and teaching confirmation classes… of course I should be able to tell him about ‘God and stuff.’  I completely froze though… living in what I assumed to be at least a nominally Christian culture, I had taken it for granted that folks would at least know the very basics.  I then quickly realized it was somewhat difficult for me even to separate out 'the basics' from everything else; what beliefs did I feel a bit more comfortable speaking on behalf of all Christians for?  When discussing preaching and teaching with my colleagues at seminary, it always seemed a given that those we’d be working with would remember at least some simple Bible stories… Noah’s Ark maybe? The Garden of Eden?  At least a rough idea about the Passion?  This poor man, facing the impending death of his beloved uncle, wanted to know about God, and simply didn’t believe he had ever been told anything at all.

For about a minute or so (it seemed to last a whole lot longer) I had no idea what to say.  Eventually I somewhat recovered, and we began by exploring the embedded theology he did have and then finding some related Bible verses.  I gave him some simple resources on what Christianity has to say about loss and I plan to meet with him again later this week… ideally I’ll be able to give him a referral to a church in the area.  I did okay… I think.  Still though, I learned a great lesson yesterday about not being presumptuous.  What a pompous, counter-productive and in the end destructive notion I had to assume that everyone at least ‘knew the basics.’ While Christianity’s place in the majority may be waning, people are still hungry. They’re still really hungry for a stronger sense of community and hungry to understand that which is bigger than themselves.  My experience yesterday helped me consider how many more hungry folks I may have been able to help over the years, if only I hadn’t assumed that everyone still at least ‘knew the basics.’  Wow, I love CPE.

God’s peace,

Dustin