A Liturgy of the Oppressed

Friends,

Whew, what a busy couple weeks! After getting to know folks at the annual assembly Upstate New York Synod of the ELCA where I'll hopefully be called as a pastor in a month or so, I've spent some time hiking in northern New England and also preparing to lead a youth mission trip to a Cherokee reservation in Oklahoma, which begins next week.

In the meantime, I'm still trying to post my work from my final semester at seminary. What follows is one of my favorite assignments throughout seminary, a paper and liturgy I created based off of Augusto Boal's Theatre of the Oppressed with inspiration from a faith community called Parables in Brooklyn. This formed the final assignment for an epic "Liturgy and Postcolonialism" course with Professor Cláudio Carvalhaes. The liturgy itself (at the bottom of the post) was written for a short half-hour Service of the Word service at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, but otherwise it would certainly include a collection and Eucharist. It's a bit "provocative" perhaps, but I'd love to hear what you think.

God's peace,
Dustin

With only two weeks (and unfortunately around forty pages of writing) between me and graduation, I figure it’s about time to admit something that’s deeply troubled me throughout my seminary education: the majority of church services I’ve participated in throughout my life have been really, really boring! Perhaps it’s due to my overwhelming sense of entitlement as a North American millennial, or maybe it’s because I come from an overly individualistic culture, or maybe it’s just because I’m a good old fashioned heretic… I’m not entirely sure. What I do definitively know however, is that the majority of church services I’ve participated in throughout my life have been really, really boring, and they didn’t mean much. Now such a statement may quickly lead one to ask, “Why be a pastor, or even a Christian at all if you don’t find Christian worship meaningful?” From my perspective, the answer to such a question is quite easy—I’ve developed strong, lifelong relationships through the Church, I’ve experienced a profound sense of community and solidarity through the Church, and I’ve been supported in serving folks and advocating against systems of injustice through the Church. When my mother died from lung cancer at a relatively young age, the Church held me close and told me that life would go on, and it did. In short, I want to be a Christian pastor because I’ve experienced the presence of God in the Church like nowhere else.

Yet, and I say this with some notable exceptions in mind, most church services I’ve participated in throughout my life have been really, really boring. Here’s what my experience of a church service is all too often like (I put this purposefully in a pretty provocative way): I start off by sitting down in an uncomfortable seat, not being allowed to have coffee despite it being way too early in the morning, hearing some announcements and then watching the pastor walk to the back of the sanctuary only to walk forward again in various levels of pomp and circumstance. The folks up front pray some prayers for me and then I spend a whole lot of time trying not to space out while a bunch of long Bible passages are read. After hearing what is often a good sermon (to be fair), I get a brief reprieve by standing up and singing a song, only to have the folks up front once again pray for me, usually from some pretty sounding words they found on an internet resource. The first time I really feel like I get to do anything besides trying to stay awake is the collection, through which I genuinely feel connected to my faith community in mission. The Meal, as long as it is done in a way that is fully inclusive of all individuals, is an extremely profound experience. Shortly after that however, one of the folks up front (sometimes after walking to the back of the sanctuary), reads literally one sentence to say goodbye to me. Couldn’t she or he just look me in the eye and truly say goodbye, lovingly sending me out into the world to serve God and the folks in my community?

Interestingly enough, it is usually only after the official liturgy is completed that the true liturgy, the true λειτουργία, which translates as “work of the people” or even “public service” typically begins… coffee hour! Now that is a good time! I actually get to hear how my sisters and brothers in Christ are doing. I am blessed and honored to support them in their sorrows, laugh with them amidst great joy and simply hear how God is at work in their lives! I welcome in new guests along with the few folks who have good social skills, perhaps share a light meal and finally have a damn coffee! And after that, this is when things really get good… I either learn something about God in fellowship with others, go on some sort of fun outing, engage in meaningful service with my community or go back home and get to take a nap! What could possibly be better? What could possibly be more meaningful? Waking up way too early was kind of a pain, but wow, it was entirely worth it!

I cannot speak for everyone, or even my generation, but I do know I am not alone in these convictions. In my own tiny part of the global Christian community, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, membership in congregations is steadily declining, yet we can’t sign up folks (and especially young people) fast enough for many of our long-term service programs. Every summer for nearly a decade, I had the privilege of engaging in ministry as a camp counselor at a Lutheran summer camp. For many of the folks I worked with, summers at camp were the most meaningful experiences of their lives, experiences they often interpret as experiencing God’s work while ministering in community. Yet few, and I mean very few, probably ten percent or less, of these same folks go back home and regularly participate in the life of their local congregations. One could make the excuse that these sort of folks are too individualistic, do not have their priorities in order or apply their love of capitalistic choice to their faith life. One could also say (and this option seems quite popular in the Church as of late) that we simply do not educate these folks enough… if only we could teach them how the liturgy is meaningful, they would find the liturgy meaningful!

There is however, another option, one deeply informed by the related concepts of postcolonialism, liberation theology and even community organizing… take the data, take the voice of the people in your context (which includes people outside the church building) seriously! Saul Alinsky, often considered the father of modern community organizing in North America, states the following:

The actual projection of a completely particularized program by a few persons is a highly dictatorial action. It is not a democratic program but a monumental testament to lack of faith in the ability and intelligence of the masses of people to think their way through the successful solution of their problems. It is not a people’s program, and the people will have little to do with it. There should not be too much concern with specifics or details of a people’s program. The program items are not too significant when one considers the enormous importance of getting people interested and participating in a democratic way. After all, the real democratic program is a democratically minded people—a healthy, active, participating, interested, self-confident people who, through their participation and interest, become informed, educated and above all develop faith in themselves, their fellow men, and the future.

Alinsky is of course coming from the predominately secular perspective of community organizing, but applied to liturgy one could easily change his last sentence to the following: “The real λειτουργία is the work of a democratically minded people—a healthy, active, participating, interested, self-confident people who, through their participation and interest, become informed, educated and above all develop faith in themselves, their fellow human beings, and most of all, faith in their God.”

In the name of “unity,” or “equality” as a Church, we often hear that all assemblies should do similar things in their liturgies, and that all people should do similar things in a particular assembly, no matter the context. This idea of “unity in similarity” reaches to all levels of our liturgy, even to the level of what we are to wear on a Sunday:

Washed and bleached clean, this garment became one of the basic symbols of baptism… Leaders of the assembly wear it on behalf of us all, showing another way of festive clothing than either “Sunday best” or casual clothes. Indeed, our leaders can thereby step out of the ways in which our current clothing so inevitably communicates gender, sexual attraction, class and wealth, inviting us to another way of considering the human being.

This appeal to “unity in similarity” almost always has the best of intentions, and needs to be honored as such. Yet at the same time, the people are quite clearly crying out, “I don’t want to be bleached clean! I want to come to God’s table as I am, no matter my shape, size or color!” Such data, the voice of the people, must be taken quite seriously. Furthermore, as postcolonialism teaches us, the modernist appeal to universality almost always ends up looking or acting like the dominant culture:

[Universality is] the assumption that there are irreducible features of human life and experience that exist beyond the constitutive effects of local cultural conditions. Universalism offers a hegemonic view of existence by which the experiences, values and expectations of a dominant culture are held to be true for all humanity. For this reason, it is a crucial feature of imperial hegemony, because its assumption (or assertion) of a common humanity - underlies the promulgation of imperial discourse for the ‘advancement’ or ‘improvement’ of the colonized, goals that thus mask the extensive and multifaceted exploitation of the colony.

Baptism, the wider liturgy, and indeed the gospel itself doesn’t bleach us clean! The good news of God’s act of liberating love in Christ lets us to see the beauty of our own unique shade of “differentness” amidst the muck of our humanity, and thereby frees us to lovingly share in the beautifully unique differentness of our sisters and brothers as well. 

Our chief objective as we cultivate new spaces, communities and liturgies is not to achieve a perfectly objective equality. Although we should do our best to move toward this, such a thing is not humanly possible— there will always be inherent power dynamics involved in any social situation, at least until the Kingdom of God is fully with us. We should however do our prayerful best to acknowledge those inherent power dynamics. In doing so we can foster a spirit of hybridity where all can share of themselves, learn from each other and experience the Divine alongside one another as a communion of fellow pilgrims moving towards their unique destinations. Through celebrating the beautiful tapestry of differentness that is humanity, and the rich variety of means through which humanity experiences God, the λειτουργία, the work of the people, is focused exactly where it should be—on Christ, on the God who promises to show up where we would least expect Her and Him to be: “The presence of God and the Lamb—and the presence of the water of life and the tree of life that come from God—should be at the center of the assembly of the church.”

Now, the next question we must ask of course, is what would such a liturgy look like? We can say a liturgy should truly be the democratic work of the people, all God’s people, in all their beautifully unique differentness, but it has to look like something. One possibility stems from the largely secular work of Augusto Boal, the Brazilian director who developed a “theatre of the oppressed.” Reflecting on Aristotle’s Poetics, Boal discovered that throughout much of Western history the point of theatre was simply to produce a sense of catharsis, and thereby to subjugate the spectator:

… the poetics of Aristotle is the poetics of oppression: the world is known, perfect or about to be perfected, and all its values are imposed on the spectators, who passively delegate power to the characters to act and think in their place. In so doing the spectators purge themselves of their tragic flaw—that is, of something capable of changing society. A catharsis of the revolutionary impetus is produced! Dramatic action substitutes for real action.

Similar to Boal’s understanding of the theatre, the whole point of the gospel, the whole point of the good news of God’s act of liberating love in Christ is to free us from whatever may oppress us, whether it be dominant members of our society, from natural phenomenon like disease or disaster, and especially, from ourselves. We are all oppressed, even in a North American context, although it may look slightly different for us here at the center of the empire. Whether through hate, indifference or most often lack of self agency, many of us, myself included, simply cannot help but oppress our sisters and brother both known and unknown, and in turn, we oppress ourselves.

Amidst so much oppression and the guilt that goes along with it, why would we develop liturgies that are supposed to communicate liberation in Christ yet fail to help us recognize our full sense of self expression and self agency in Christ to change this situation? Augusto Boal, speaking through the secular language of theatre, provides us with another option:

“Spectator” is a bad word! The spectator is less than a man and it is necessary to humanize him, to restore to him his capacity of action in all its fullness. He too must be a subject, an actor on an equal plane with those generally accepted as actors, who must also be spectators. All these experiments of a people’s theater have the same objective—the liberation of the spectator, on whom the theater has imposed finished visions of the world… The poetics of the oppressed is essentially the poetics of liberation: the spectator no longer delegates power to the characters either to think or to act in his place. The spectator frees himself; he thinks and acts for himself! Theater is action!

Theatre is not the same as liturgy, but they both are action, as they both indeed can be the work of the people! The way Augusto Boal blurred the line between spectator and actor was to develop a variety of “movement games” through which anyone could participate, even those with little theatrical training. Furthermore, whether it be a theatre or an assembly engaged in liturgy, communities need a facilitator in some sense. In a theatre of the oppressed, this person is not called the narrator or protagonist but the “joker.” The role of the joker is to float above the action, to allow for the greatest degree of self-expression possible, but also to descend into the action when needed. The role of the pastor in a “liturgy of the oppressed” is quite similar—she or he must prayerfully ensure the gospel is communicated, while allowing for the most democratically minded self expression possible.

A basic “liturgy of the oppressed” is attached as an appendix to this paper, one that hopefully proclaims the gospel while taking seriously the presence of Christ in the beautiful differentness of humanity. As this particularly liturgy was developed for a short weekday “Service of the Word” at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, the Meal is unfortunately excluded, although I would consider it central to any Sunday assembly. The traditional Lutheran ordo is followed for the sake of reflecting the liturgical movements of our ancestors but even more for reasons of hospitality, as creating familiar structure hopefully encourages greater self-expression within each individual movement of the liturgy. A “name and gesture” movement game acts as a sort of Kyrie, but a fully participatory “Remembrance of Baptism” rite could greatly strength the Gathering. As a volunteer moves the assembly forward with the “prayer of the day,” it may prove helpful to reflect the prayers of our ancestors through the day’s appointed collects.

The Word portion of the liturgy would look quite different depending on the text(s) used and the folks present in the assembly. If the text for the day is short, reading each phrase and having the assembly repeat seems to work quite well. For longer passages, Bibles should be provided. Although this is of course not a universal observation, I believe a “liturgy of the oppressed” should generally stay away from hymnals, as they often greatly limit self expression. Moving forward, the “columbian hypnosis” movement game then creates an environment for folks in the assembly to have fun, relate to each other and use their bodies in new ways while also exploring social power exchanges. There are a wide variety of more complicated movement games that could also be used, many of which allow for the exploration (and overcoming) of a societal injustice. Discussion then allows the assembly to process the experience, relate it back to the text and most importantly to God’s presence in their lives. The joker should prayerfully shape this discussion to ensure the gospel is communicated. The assembly then responds to the good news in song and prayer. If the liturgy does not include a Meal, the assembly is sent back out into the world with a message of peaceful liberation and community in Christ.

As it has been so aptly stated, “Lutheran worship at its deepest—and this is true of all Western and Eastern Christian worship, as well—is this: a participating and open assembly, served by its ministers, gathered around the bath, the word, the prayers, the table—the very matters which speak and sign Jesus Christ so that the nations may live.” A liturgy of the oppressed takes these central things of worship quite seriously, as they are the gifts Christ gave us to proclaim the gospel. At the same time however, a liturgy of the oppressed also takes seriously the data, the voice of the people, in its context. To say it in a less fancy way, in a liturgy of the oppressed, people matter! The people truly matter! Instead of appealing to the colonialist idea of “unity in similarity,” with everyone engaged in the same action or having “the folks up front” perform the action for them, a more democratic liturgy can develop in which difference is celebrated, not bleached away. Indeed, it is through celebrating the beautiful tapestry of differentness that is our humanity, and especially the innumerable amazing ways God continuously breaks into our lives, that the λειτουργία, the work of the people, is focused exactly where it should be—on Christ, on the God who promises to show up where we would least expect!

A Liturgy of the Oppressed

Gathering

Greeting: The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all! And also with you! 

Name and Gesture: The assembly stands in a circle. The joker begins by stating her first name followed by a physical gesture which is indicative of what feelings and/ or experiences she is bringing into the assembly that day. The whole group then repeats the joker’s name and gesture. This process works around the group until everyone has said their name and performed a gesture. The process is then repeated a second time but without names mentioned. Individuals may wish to step forward and briefly explain to the group why they decided upon their gesture as well. 

Prayer of the Day: The joker invites a volunteer to either pray extemporaneously or pray the appointed collects for the day.

Word

Reading: A short Biblical passage, perhaps one appointed for the day by the Revised Common Lectionary, is read phrase by phrase by the joker, who also invites the assembly to repeat each phrase after it is read. 

Columbian Hypnosis and Discussion: The assembly divides into pairs - choosing role A and role B. A will “hypnotize” B with her or his hand - B must keep her face just a few inches from A’s hand at all times - always an equal distance. A should try to manipulate B into all sorts of positions, using forgotten muscles, liberating her to use the body in a different way than she is accustomed. A & B then switch roles.Remaining in pairs the assembly discusses their experience of being in complete power and without power. They may wish to reread the day’s Bible passage. How does power relate to the Biblical passage just read? How is Christ at work in exchanges of power and the everyday life of the assembly? The assembly then gathers back in a circle and those who wish may share their findings. The joker shapes the conversation as needed to ensure the gospel is communicated. One possible addition: The assembly divides into triads. A hypnotizes B & C using two hands, which may do entirely different movements at any time.A second possible addition: One person (A) stands in the center of the assembly. A hypnotizes two people (Bs) using two hands. Everyone else picks one of the B people to be hypnotized by. 

Hymn of the Day: The joker invites the assembly to proclaim liberation in Christ through a commonly known song for which anyone can call out individual verses. Examples include “This Little Light of Mine” and “We Are Marching in the Light of God.” Movement is encouraged as the assembly is able! 

Prayers of the People: The joker invites the assembly into prayer and then individuals go around the circle offering intercessions as they wish. The Lord’s Prayer is then sung or spoken by the assembly in unison.

Sending

Blessing: My sisters and brothers, let us go forth, liberated in Christ to love and serve the world! Thanks be to God! 

Peace: A sign of peace may be shared by all.

Dustin is a recent graduate from the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia and approved candidate for ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. An evangelist, urban gardener, mountain climber, community organizer, saint and sinner, Dustin spends most of his professional time wrestling with God and proclaiming liberation in Christ. Otherwise, Dustin likes hiking, playing frisbee, hanging out with an amazing woman named Jessie and pretending to know how to sing.

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.

"Balance" and the Israeli Occupation of Palestine

I wrote the following as part of my ELCA Peace Not Walls leadership training trip to Jordan and the Holy Land after coming back from occupied Hebron and the South Hebron hills a few days ago. The intention of the trip is to prepare for leading future groups of young adults to the Holy Land while 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. I hope you enjoy the post, and please provide feedback if you're able! - Dustin

Whenever I engage folks back home in the states in discussion about the Israeli occupation of Palestine, the word 'balance' always seems to come into the conversation. "The conflict is complicated," folks say, "we're not experts so we should be balanced in our approach." Today as I experienced the abandoned central streets and massive military presence in Hebron that Israeli settlers have termed 'liberation," today as I heard the story of Palestinian villagers in the South Hebron hills having their bread oven, their main source food being destroyed by settlers again and again despite multiple Supreme Court rulings to the contrary, today as I heard a former IDF soldier breaking the silence about how military strategy is regularly break into random homes and detain Palestinians for up to 90 days without giving them access to a lawyer in order to "make their presence felt," I can't but cry out in anguish about what "balance" could possibly look like in such a dire situation.

Can one achieve balance in the collection of information, engaging all sides and narratives in assessing a situation? Yes, absolutely. A balanced assessment is the only way to credibly engage in advocacy. Yet at some point, balance becomes at best a hindrance and at worst an excuse for inaction. In the face of such a starkly clear situation of overwhelming oppression of the Palestinian people, to be "balanced" in one's prophetic proclamation and to neglect radical non-violent action simply proves unethical. I am not Pro-Palestinian. I am not pro-Israeli. But as a person of faith, as a Christian, I am pro-peace, I am pro-justice and I am pro-recognizing the face of Christ in all those crushed by overwhelming oppression. Perhaps there is a type of balance in that. But to be balanced or moderate in proclaiming that God's heart is breaking under this brutal occupation as my heart breaks as well? No, that is not possible.

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.

Reclaiming True Christian Pilgrimage

I wrote the following as part of my ELCA Peace Not Walls leadership training trip to Jordan and the Holy Land while sitting atop the Mount of Beatitudes earlier this morning (with a couple slight modifications taking in experiences from later in the day). The intention of the trip is to prepare for leading future groups of young adults to the Holy Land while 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. I hope you enjoy the post, and please provide feedback if you're able! - Dustin

Sitting atop a devotional site called the Mount of the Beatitudes and seeing the sun shining on the Sea of Galilee, I'm a feeling a bit challenged... I've been thinking a lot over the course of my trip about how true Christian pilgrimage should strengthen relationships with God and people rather than necessarily visit specific holy sites, but now I'm beginning to think it's both. I certainly lament that most Christian pilgrims visit the Holy Land without ever learning from Palestinians living under the brutally apartheid-like system of Israeli occupation, don't get me wrong... our Palestinian Christian guide recently mentioned that we were the first group in his 4+ years of giving tours who were interested in hearing the Palestinian side of the story. Yet, walking amongst the gardens of the Mount of Beatitudes and hearing the Scriptures read and discussed in so many languages, it's obvious these "holy sites" are not just dead stones for some people.

The Israeli separation wall in the background.

Rather, people really are living out lives of faith by visiting these sacred places. Perhaps what really matters then is what one does with a faith renewed on pilgrimage, what that faith moves one to do and who that faith moves one to be in relationship with. Christian pilgrimage to the Holy Land can still mean visiting the "holy sites," but it still must also mean accompanying our Palestinian sisters and brothers.

If we're to change minds back home and around the world in the hope of moving toward a just resolution of the Israeli occupation of Palestine, we need to be in relationship with Palestinians... God tends to make liberation happen within an oppressed people themselves, not through outside forces, no matter how altruistic. Our job as American Christian pilgrims is simply to learn the stories of Palestinians, raise those stories up and through those stories let God do the amazing work of liberating hearts and minds. Onto the Tabgha, the devotional site of Christ multiplying the loaves and fishes.
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.

Reformation Sunday Sermon at Emanuel Lutheran Church

Hi folks! What follows is a rough manuscript of a sermon I delivered at my home congregation of Emanuel Lutheran Church in Manchester, CT this past Sunday. It's primarily on the appointment Gospel story for Reformation Day, John 8: 31 - 36 and also relates to Emanuel's stewardship campaign for the year. I'd love to hear what you think!

If the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed! If the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed! What a timely Gospel message for this morning, for the celebration of Reformation Sunday here at Emanuel. One reason Jesus’s message to us is so timely is because in recent years, and perhaps especially in recent weeks, the concept of freedom has become so confused. The concept of freedom, especially in America, is used rhetorically for all sorts of causes. When they shut the government down Washington many politicians were talking about freedom simply meaning freedom from taxes, government regulations and our new healthcare laws. On the other side of the political spectrum, freedom frequently means predominately freedom from want or freedom from injustice. Going back a few years, at the height of the American occupation of Iraq, if you were someone critical of our country’s foreign policy you may remember hearing the retort “freedom isn’t free.”

While all those concepts of freedom may have some elements of truth, some I think more than others, my sisters and brothers I propose to you this day that the Christian concept of freedom, that the concept of freedom which Jesus’s shares with us in today’s Gospel message is something much deeper than all that. Freedom in Christ means being able to remember, both to confess and rejoice about our past and present, and through God’s act of liberating love in Christ thereby be freed to move boldly forward into life in community with Christ and one another. Let me repeat that... freedom in Christ means being able to remember, both to confess and rejoice about our past and present, and through God’s act of liberating love in Christ thereby be freed to move boldly forward into life in community with Christ and one another.

Jesus’s Gospel message about freedom is also important today because that’s exactly what we do on Reformation Day, we look back in order to move forward. Ya know, to be honest, I wasn’t much into Reformation Day until recently... as a kid, perhaps because I was never very good about paying attention in Sunday School, I remember vaguely knowing that the day had something to do with church history, and that either my mom would make me wear my one red dress sweater, which was really hot and scratchy, or when I got older I’d outright forget to wear a red shirt and be teased about it. As I got older, and eventually went to seminary, all the singing a Mighty Fortress is Our God and Lutheran pep rally sort of stuff just didn’t seem to recognize our entire past, it seemed a little too triumphant and therefore just didn’t seem genuine. It was only in fact when thinking about today’s Gospel message while preparing for this sermon, when I realized that God’s act of liberating love in Christ frees us to both confess and celebrate the past, that my feelings about Reformation Day changed.

Confession is important, not because we want to feel guilty about everything, but rather because in naming those negative aspects of our collective and individual pasts, we’re reminded that God lovingly and freely liberates us from such things. As a Church in general, and as Lutherans specifically, we do have sins to recognize as part of imperfect history. The violent anti-semitic writings of Luther, even the very last sermon he gave before his death that argued all Jewish folks should be removed from the country, were used extensively to gin up Christian support for the sinful and horrific policies under Hitler in Nazi Germany. Speaking about the Church as a whole, the immense violence of the crusades, the apathy or outright hostility of many white Christians during the time of slavery, the support of western imperialism and colonialism through “missionary activities” that formed the beginnings of the ecumenical movement, the apathy or outright hostility of many churches during the American civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s, and the lack of bold action from many churches in the early days of the AIDs crisis are only a few of our collective historic sins.

In our own time, we have some parts of the Church’s continued attack on the rights of women and girls and a glaring heteronormativity that prevents many from boldly embracing the rich diversity of folks across the human gender spectrum. I’ll never forget wearing my collar on the subway in New York last year while on internship, when a young man came up to me and immediately said “don’t worry father, I’m not a sodomite.” The very first thing he and many folks, especially young people, think today when they see a Christian isn’t about worshipping or praying or God’s love, but rather that wow... there’s someone that simply doesn’t like gay people. In our own faith community of Emanuel, let us recognize that while we’ve done great work on many of the issues I’ve just listed, including our embrace of the Reconciling in Christ program and our longtime support of the Manchester Area Network on AIDS, its certainly not the same thing at the same level but we do have our own baggage... like most churches, at least in the Western world, we face a decline in budget and attendance numbers. We’ve also faced years of difficult staff turnovers, and currently a period of careful discernment our beloved music program, just to name a few I know. My sisters and brothers, let’s boldly put that out there, name it, confess it, and just simply recognize that we have some healing to do. And doing that, my sisters and brothers, is okay.

For on this day of looking back and moving forward, we also have a heck of a lot of good things to celebrate as a Church and as a congregation... While I could name a bunch of these things on a macro-level, I figured I could zoom down a bit here, and just tell a couple stories of how the amazing ministry that takes place at Emanuel Lutheran has helped me over years. I’ll tell two quick stories, one kind of serious and then one a little bit funny just to lighten up the mood…

Back during high school, during my freshman year shortly after I was confirmed just like you four folks are today, I was battling a fairly serious case of depression and social anxiety disorder, although I didn’t know what to call it at the time. Eventually after seeing a show on MTV about depression, I realized that probably what I had and I asked my mom for help. Unfortunately, partially because of the poor healthcare system in this country, I wasn’t able to get into a therapist or psychiatrist for months, and thus things only got worse. By the time Christmas break came around, I left school that day and told my parents I could never go back… my social anxiety had gotten so extreme in that place. I didn’t return to school that year until mid-February… I had my classwork brought home, eventually began seeing a therapist and psychiatrist, but it was really was the support of the community at Emanuel that turned me around.

The first time I left my house during that period for a place besides the doctors office was to come see the pastor at Emanuel. In conversation with him we decided it would be a good idea to call a couple of my buddies from confirmation and schedule a time to hang out in order to help me begin socializing again. I was nervous as heck going over my friends’ house that night, but it was the major turning point in my recover… it was the first time I was able to talk about what I was experiencing with my peers, and it was the first time I had a chance to have fun in a really long time. We went to the church league basketball game together the next night and I never really looked back and I was shortly thereafter return to school. That’s just one story of amazing ministry, of amazing community here at Emanuel Lutheran.

Now for a sillier one. I mentioned earlier that I wasn’t particularly good at paying attention in Sunday school, but as might of the folks here today know from first hand experience, that was an understatement. Some of my friends and I probably even made a few of our Sunday School teachers cry over the years. Let me first mention, boy I’m very sorry about all that! Things got so bad at one point, probably when we were around ten, that we actually needed to have a meeting with the pastor and our parents about whether we could even continue in Sunday School at Emanuel. The only thing I remember from that day is yelling out that I didn’t believe anything in the Bible obviously because no one in the Bible had last names! I was even a quick thinker back then… But here’s the really funny part… out of that Sunday School class came three seminarians, five counselors at Camp Calumet, and a bunch of other great folks doing all sorts of ministries according to their callings. Wow, that’s absolutely amazing! If you need any indication about how the ministries called to participate in and the investments you’re making today might impact others in the long term, then this is probably a really great example.

... And those stories are just three of the things from my own life folks, and I haven’t even physically been around here for most of the past decade! I can only imagine all the amazing stories y’all have as well about how our congregation has supported you and our neighbors over the years, and how its ministered to our surrounding communities, and even our larger world.

We may not be perfect, but when remember, when we confess and celebrate on day like Reformation Sunday, we can also look forward in a bold, vibrant future together. And furthermore, we can look to such a future knowing the profoundly good news that whats important is not really about what we’re doing at all, but rather its about the amazing works of liberating love God is doing, and will continue to do in Christ. Let’s just think about some of those amazing things in the short-term... we have a new pope who has gone out of his way to wash the feet of Muslim girl, has said who is he to judge people no matter who they love and has refocused the church on economic justice. We have a great new presiding Bishop, Elizabeth Eaton, a great new synod Bishop, Jim Hazelwood and in our own local congregation, we have a great new associate pastor, Kathy Reed, who I’ve heard from a bunch of folks is doing some truly amazing work.

And the opportunities we have for ministry are immense... we live in a part of the country where 75% of folks don’t belong to any particular faith community. Well I say what an amazing opportunity we have to go out there to share that Good News that we know through Christ with them! We as wider Church I believe are really starting to finally get it... we are reforming once again as we did 500 years ago to reach new generations of folks who are asking new sorts of questions but who are seeking the same answers... the good news of God’s liberating act in Christ. Amidst chaotic times and great change, my sisters and brothers, we have a God of Change, who is and always will be at work, supporting us, guiding us and bearing us peace. In Christ, God promises to be a God not just of the past, but of the future, a God of freedom, a God of liberating love that is always at work. And, God is a God who keeps Her promises. Amen.

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.

Consumerism, Christian Discipleship and the Digital Age

What follows is a post I recently wrote for my Christian Discipleship in a Consumer Society journal, a semester-long assignment regularly making entries for a course at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, where I'm currently in my last year of a Masters of Divinity program. It's definitely just a bit of free-form, unedited thinking, but I'd love to hear what you think.

So I've been thinking a great deal about the many concepts we've talking about in the course so far, and given that we're almost halfway through the semester, I figured I'd try to articulate my thinking thus far. This won't be pretty, it's just a lot of raw, stream of conscious writing, but here we go...

Throughout the semester something's been hanging on me a bit... I sort of had a general notion that things were changing, that the advent of a variety of web 2.0 platforms and especially social media was revolutionizing how we identify ourselves, what we desire, and how we define ourselves. In other words, I thought social media was changing many of the factors involved in what we create and how we can consume... yet, I could never really articulate what I was trying to get at.

Last week, when discussing Pastor's Zandstra's article "30-cent Deal of a Lifetime," what I was trying to get at became a bit clearer. A major argument of Pastor Zandstra's piece was that we don't primarily purchase/ consume commodities because we desire the physical object, but rather that we desire a certain identity that various commodities signal to others (and ourselves). Essentially, for many millennials, and increasingly folks of older generations as well, Pastor Zandstra's apt observation no longer holds true. With social media revolutionizing the way we identify ourselves and the way we make meaning, a decreasing percentage of the commodities many younger folks buy has very much to do with identity at all. Sure, if I ever buy brand new clothes (I usually just thrift shop), its at LL Bean, primarily so I can return the commodities I purchase once they wear out, but also because the whole woodsy Maine thing is a part of the identity I've constructed for myself. A Facebook profile is such a stronger, more interactive way of signaling identity though, so if my online persona greatly contradicted the whole woodsy thing, folks would probably think of me more based more upon what they see online. In this way (and its only one of two ways I've so far identified), purchasing commodities of a specific brand is increasingly less important in constructing an identity for one's self.

I just analyzed my own spending over the past month in order to provide some factual evidence to back up this idea. Here's the categories I spent on:

- Rent: 26%
- Food: 22%
- Entertainment (mostly beer & concert tickets): 16%
- Health: 10%
- Transportation: 8%
- Books: 8%
- Investment: 7%
- Miscellaneous: 2%
- Charity: 1%

Outside of the charity number being so low (that definitely something I need to work on over the next month), the only category that really has much to do with identity at all is the books (I like identify as a proud member of the liberal intelligentsia haha). The local microbrews and folk-rock concerts can probably be added in as well as having to do with identity (I'm a bit of a hippie), as can the charity (I'm an overly cheap Christian) but that really only makes up one quarter of my spending for the month.

On another level, social media is also beginning to subvert the original purpose of brands to begin with. As we discussed in class, brands only became important when folks began buying commodities from a third-party, rather than directly from a local producer whose reputation the purchaser would have known about. With the advent of modern capitalism, brands were necessary to signal reputation of the producer, since the original producer may have been half a world away from the purchaser. Now however, with social media, anyone can talk about the quality of any sort of product with folks all over the world. Thus, while brands are still important (I'm typing on my MacBook Air right now), the consuming public increasingly has the power to discuss and define a brand, subverting the producer's ability to define their brand to a certain extent.

Two more quick points I'm only starting to think about. I'm in the midst of reading Karl Marx's Capital, and I've started to further nail down the whole identity creation through social media thing. In Marx's read on a capitalist society, the problem with the capitalist class is that they privately own the means of production, and thus can extract surplus value from the laborer, which turn leads to an increasing concentration of capital... did I get it right? If we take as a given that creation identity is a central factor in capitalist consumption, then capitalism is at very least on the verge of changing its form. This is because an increasing percentage of individuals (one third of people globally currently have internet access and another third have mobile phone access), now control their own means of identity production in the form of blogs, Facebook accounts, YouTube accounts and the like. This idea needs to be fleshed out a great deal still, but I'd like to think I'm on to something.

So, what does Christian discipleship look like in this digital age, where the masses increasingly control their own means of identity production? I haven't fleshed this out yet, but I've been repeatedly drawn to a Gustavo Gutierrez quote from A Theology of Liberation when thinking about this:

Men are called together, as a community and not as separate individuals, to participate in the life of the Trinitarian community, to enter into the circuit of love that unites the persons of the Trinity. This is a love which "builds up human society in history." The fulfillment and the manifestation of the will of the Father occur in a privileged fashion in Christ, who is called therefore the "mystery of God." For the same reason Sacred Scripture, the Church and the liturgical rites were designated by the first Christian generations by the term mystery, and by its Latin translation, sacrament. In the sacrament the salvific plan is fulfilled and revealed; that is, it is made present among men and for men... The sacrament is thus the efficacious revelation of the call to communion with God and to the unity of all mankind (Gutierrez 259).

As Christians in community, as the Church, Christ's body on earth, increasingly both has individual and collective access to our own means of identity production, it becomes increasingly easier for God to work through Christian community as a sacrament to the world.

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.

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.

At an Unexpected Hour (preaching video)

What follows is video of the final sermon preached at Saint Peter's Church where I spent the past year serving as Vicar. Primarily on the appointed lectionary Gospel message for the day, Saint Luke 12: 32 - 40, the sermon also reflects thinking I've been doing after reading an article from the The Atlantic entitled "The Rise of the Christian Left in America." The camera's stayed on following the end of the sermon, so you can watch the Intercessory Prayers we do at the weekly Healing Vespers as well.

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.

God's Passionate, Fiery, Liberating Love

Hey friends! What follows is the rough manuscript of a sermon I gave last night at Saint Peter's Church, where I've been serving as Vicar this year. It's primarily on the alternative Hebrew Bible lectionary reading for the Sunday, Hosea 11: 1 - 11. Please feel free to leave comments... I'd love to hear what you think.

So while the passage you just heard from Saint Luke certainly has some important messages concerning stewardship, true abundance and that sort of thing, I actually want to spend some time exploring our first reading from the prophet Hosea with you this instead. That’s right, we’ll be hanging with good old Hosea tonight, a “minor” prophet whose lesser known writings from the back of the Hebrew Bible profoundly speaks to many of the issues we face right now, in this time, in this place, in this city.

Part of the reason Hosea’s message proves so timely is that it greatly challenges how many folks in our time define the Church and indeed our shared Christian faith. The first way Hosea challenges us, though today’s passage is one notable exception, is that much of the book uses extremely patriarchal language. Hosea in fact spends most of his time saying God’s relationship with the Northern Kingdom of Israel is much like the relationship between a righteous man and an unfaithful wife, frequently “whoring” herself out to the Baals and other Canaanite deities. An honest reading of Hosea necessarily then indicts us as Christians... we must admit, we must confess in fact, that God has often chose to speak through the words of prophets who lived in extremely patriarchal, mysogynistic times. This isn’t a bad thing really... its simply a fact that God often chooses to work through the actions of human beings. As all human beings are imperfect, God’s work through the hands of humanity will thereby be imperfect, exhibiting the sins of whatever age they come out of. The danger comes my sisters and brothers when we don’t confess such sin, recognize and deconstruct the male bias of our Scriptures and thereby create space for its wisdom to be shared in a time that doesn’t exhibit quite the same set of sins.

The second way Hosea’s message challenges how many currently define the Church and faith is that the prophet absolutely obliterates the notion that Christians aught to be all polished and perfect, exhibiting a 1950s “Leave It to Beaver” sort of piety. Rather, Hosea portrays a chaotic, passionate and highly emotional God, a God constantly going back and forth between feelings of intense disappointment and even more intense love for Her children. If God Herself can be so passionate, so fiery, so intensely emotional, it gives us the permission to feel whatever it is we’re feeling, even when we are drowning in potent torrents of emotion.

Finally, and most importantly, Hosea challenges us by reminding us that sin is indeed a very real thing. Hosea highlights the stark fact that God gets disappointed when we screw up... Often in more progressive faith communities like Saint Peter’s that rightfully reject the notion of an angry, judgement God, the idea that sin is very real, that our actions can very much disappoint God, is unfortunately glossed over. Luckily, Hosea challenges us to remember that God isn’t just sunshine and roses all the time, but by no means is He an angry judge either, making arbitrary rules and then smiting us down for fun when we don’t obey. Rather, God is a God who has suffered on the cross, who has felt the worst possible human pain that humanity could ever inflict on itself, the pain of literally killing God, and She simply doesn’t want us, Her children, to feel such pain ever again.

One time when I was about three or four, my mom was baking cookies, and I for some reason waddled into the kitchen and decided to it would be a good idea to put my mouth on the hot stove. Right as my lips touched the hot metal front panel of the oven, and thereby erupted in searing pain, my mother screamed and lunged at me. This wasn’t a scream of anger though, but rather a scream of mutual pain and compassionate, aching love... she knew how badly I was going to get hurt, and she simply cried out in an attempt to stop me. But then, as I burst into tears, I distinctly remember her bursting into tears too while binding me up in her strong, loving arms and putting ice on my wound.

While Hosea may challenge us my sister and brothers, he is also crying across the millennia to us this day, in this time, in this city with immensely good news. For while we must confess and amend for the patriarchal foundations of our Scripture and tradition, we have the profound opportunity right now to reform into a Church that affirms the full humanity of all God’s children, no matter their gender, sexual orientation, race or creed. And while Hosea’s image of an emotional, fiery and passionate God may make many folks feel uncomfortable, it also grants you the permission to be the exactly broken yet beautiful child of God you are, with no changes necessary. Most importantly, Hosea proclaims the profoundly good news that like jealous lover with His heart broken to pieces, God craves relationship with us. Like a caring parent or a life long friend God keeps coming back to us again and again no matter what we do, never letting us go from the all-embracing, liberating love She proclaims to us in Christ. Amen.

Dustin currently serves as 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 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.

Ordinary Time 16C Sermon: Chillaxing in Community

What follows is a draft of the sermon I preached this Sunday at Saint Peter's Church for Jazz Vespers.  It's primarily on Genesis 18: 1 - 10 and Saint Luke 10: 38 - 42, two of the appointed lectionary readings for the day.

So I have a confession for all of you… for much of my life, I wasn’t a big fan of going to church… I really disliked it actually, because I thought it was a waste of time. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Jesus, or faith or Christian community or anything like that… I’ve pretty much always really dug those things and have found them immensely meaningful in my life. But the specific act of what many call worship, the roughly hour and a half of sitting and standing in the pews, the singing, praying, listening to typically boring folks like me talk for typically way too long up front Sunday after Sunday about archaic things I couldn’t care less about… I never really got the point of it. And furthermore, as someone that’s always been really into the service and social justice side of faith… feeding the hungry, accompanying people living under the oppression of poverty in their long walk to freedom, organizing the community against all manner of social ills, I definitely thought the immense time and resources spent by most Christian communities on the act of worship was simply a distraction from what was truly important. And while my thinking on such matters admittedly started shifting after I entered seminary, even last year you’d have typically found me sending out emails about an initiative to make campus more environmentally friendly and or supporting the local Occupy movement rather than attending daily chapel services. Even once I starting getting a vague notion of its importance, I still didn’t think I had time for worship, or to put it slightly more colorfully, I didn’t think I had time to “chillax” with God and by doing so “chillax” with my sisters and brothers in Christian community.

To chillax… it’s a “word” I think I first heard sometime in high school and have occasionally used ever since when attempting to sound hip around folks a bit older than me or when vainly trying to impress a girl or the like. It occurred to me this week though that such a word could be repurposed for the far more noble use of summarizing both the importance of worship I have learned this year from all of you at Saint Peter’s and the immensely good news that is at the heart of today’s gospel message. For combining the two verbs ‘to relax’ and ‘to chill’ into ‘to chillax’ really ends up making for a profound concept. It means not only to take a pause, to take a breath in the midst of the chaos that surrounds you, but to do so not for your own sake, nor under your own initiative. Instead, chillaxing is solely done for the sake of the other and solely as a work of God. You see, when chillaxing a pause is made, a breathe is taken, a separate space is created away from one’s own life in order to see another being for who she or he is truly is, to listen carefully to that being, and in fact to share in the realization of a sacred moment with another broken yet beautiful child of God. To chillax… it’s what worship and what today’s readings are all about… and the simple reminder to chillax, the simple invitation that we can’t help but say yes to, that simple invitation my sisters and brothers is immensely good news.

Let’s look at our first reading today from Genesis… God shows up at Abraham’s tent in presence of three men, perhaps in what Christians would later call the Trinity, in the middle of a hot summer day at Mamre, in a place that would later become one of the three most important and busiest marketplaces in ancient Israel. Despite the sweltering heat, Abraham is invited by God to take some time along with his wife Sarah to first recognize the physical needs of his three visitors by providing them with water. A sumptuous meal is then prepared and a holy moment is shared under the shade of a tree while the meal is enjoyed. In other words, Abraham chillaxes with God and then Abraham and Sarah receive the immensely good news that God will soon return to them in this face of a newborn child.

Today’s gospel story from Saint Luke also puts forward a powerful of message about chillaxing with God and with one another, and this time without the inherent patriarchy of the Genesis passage. The story takes place immediately after the Good Samaritan story we heard last Sunday... Jesus shows up at Martha and Mary’s house, and much like with Abraham and Sarah, He does so to invite them into a holy moment over a meal. In other words, Jesus shows up to chillax. Martha welcomes Jesus into her home, and gets to work busily preparing a meal. Mary on the other hand, defies the gender norms of her day by sitting as a disciple at Jesus’ feet, listening to him. Martha in turn reasonably gets pretty upset that she has to do all the work. Lovingly, Jesus proclaims back to her, and to us in this time, in this place, in this exceptionally busy of cities, the immensely good news that at the heart of the matter it’s not about what Martha, or what Mary or what you or me, or any of us are really doing at all… Rather, it’s about the most amazing act of liberating love God is working in Christ.

For you see, what I’ve certainly come to learn this year from all of you, is that when we gather around this table, and when we chillax with beautiful Spirit-filled jazz and join in mutual conversation, a most divinely holy moment, and most profound space of liberating love occurs. A space where folks who live on the streets and folks who can afford plane tickets to fly in from all over the world gather together and mutually recognize each other as broken yet beautiful children of God (and thus learn from each other) is created in Christ. And in such a space, supported by each other, we can’t help but cast ourselves into the arms of a God who is lovingly aching to share Her presence with us. God chillaxes with us, welcomes us, gathers us up in loving arms into community with Herself and one another and thereby strengthens us to go out and proclaim Her message of liberating love to a city and world profoundly hungry for the gospel. And this sisters and brothers, is profoundly good news. Amen.


Dustin currently serves as 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 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.