Monday, April 12, 2010

Quoting Uncle Walt

Found amidst the Interwebs, thanks to Wedgewood Baptist Church in Charlotte, NC:

We are, all of us, children of the biblical text. We have been conceived and birthed, generated and summoned, given life, by this text and none other. This text keeps having its say among us, by translation and interpretation, by commentary and proclamation, by study and enactment. We must always again, always afresh in every circumstance, come to terms with it.

We spend our life struggling with this text, sometimes struggling for the text, sometimes struggling against the text. The text always has its say among us; it will not go away. Its voice is a haunting one, sounding promises, uttering commands, voicing stories, proclaiming oracles, ejaculating pain, authoring hope. The voice of the text haunts us because we know very well it is a human text filled with endless critical problems—and yet we hear in
it the very voice of God: majestic sovereignty, awesome holiness, passionate grace, weakness made strong.

Because of this text, which will not go away or finally keep silent, we live haunted lives, filled with yearnings for what is not in hand, promises not yet filled, commands not yet obeyed, desires not yet granted, neighbors not yet loved. The old text becomes new text; old story becomes new song. For all those reasons, in gratitude and awe and fresh resolve, we celebrate the new, revised translation, made freshly aware by it that we are indeed haunted children of this haunting text.

And because the text will not go away or be silent, we are destined to be endlessly haunted, uneasy, restless, and on the way.

-Walter Brueggemann

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Advent moments

Mary Oliver is a poet who has won national awards as well as my own admiration. At one point I had heard she had passed away, and was greatly saddened by the news, but now discover that such news was premature and "greatly exagerated," as Mark Twain would say. My relief is bested only by my gratitude.

In a recent collection, called Red Bird, Oliver writes the following

Of The Empire

We will be known as a culture that feared death
and adored power, that tried to vanquish insecurity
for the few and cared little for the penury of the
many. We will be known as a culture that taught
and rewarded the amassing of things, that spoke
little if at all about the quality of life for
people (other people), for dogs, for rivers. All
the world, in our eyes, they will say, was a
commodity. And they will say that this structure
was held together politically, which it was, and
they will say also that our politics was no more
than an apparatus to accommodate the feelings of
the heart, and that the heart, in those days,
was small, and hard, and full of meanness.

I think she has much of the state of our current situation well in hand. Similarly, Luke had the situation well in hand when he wrote in his Gospel

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled. This was the first enrollment, when Quirinius was governor of Syria.

And it is into this Empire, then and now, that Christ comes at Christmas, with a message and a life beyond that which empire can handle.

Thanks be to God. Amen.



Friday, September 18, 2009

Health Care as a Commodity?

It occurred to me during a recent discussion around the currently debated health care reforms, that underlying the current debates are assumptions that rarely see the light of day.

On the one hand, arguments for current means of health care provision look at health care, in the form of insurance and access to facilities/medication, as a commodity. Like all commodities, it is to be valued according to the market, as mediated by insurance companies, legislation, and other factors. It is to be used by those who can afford it, who will hoard it if possible.

This commodity is sometimes in the form of an employee benefit. Like the use of the company car, if one loses one's job due to illness, or if one's employer can no longer afford it, one must do without or pay for one's own.

Those who cannot afford either insurance or out-of-pocket health care have few nets in place to catch them. One of the big ones is the local Emergency Room, which is required to assess and stabilize, though not necessarily treat, serious medical conditions. For hospitals which are required to offer treatment, usually a county hospital ER is required. The use of an ER as a primary health care provider often means putting off getting timely care, and runs up the cost to the hospital and to the taxpayer through otherwise nonrecoverable expenditures.

Under the commodity model, there is only so much to go around, so providing for more means less for me.

There is another assumption at work within the discussions of those seeking reform. Adequate basic health care is not a commodity but a fundamental human right. As a recent Facebook meme put it:

No one should have to die because they cannot afford health care. No one should go broke because they got sick.

Here is where the underlying assumptions clash. The commodity idea is intimately linked to capitalism, which in our time expresses itself in rapacious acquisition, rabid individualism and sees limits upon the available amount of any given commodity out there. So attempts to move beyond current models get labeled socialism and the specter of rationing is invoked. The human rights view of health care is intimately linked to community based thinking and a view of being one's brother's keeper which flies in the face of the ideals of individual achievement and control of commodities.

So the question for us in our time, is health care a commodity or a basic human right? Similar questions are also being asked of related areas, such as clean water, clean air?

In the U.S., much of the church has overly allied itself with capitalism. It often seeks to offer better ways for people to cope with the pressures of achieving individually, and strategies for more personal acquisition. Preaching on God's commandments are often limited to those which deal with individual sins, and we have a particular fondness of focusing on sex, usually someone else's.

However, we find that when the prophets speak to Israel for "three sins and for four," quite often they are being condemned for idolatry. This idolatry is intimately linked to not caring for the poor, the widow, the orphan, the foreigner in their midst. Such prophetic oracles, so often quoted around end of the world ideas, speak far more plainly and openly about taking care of those in need.

Jesus spoke of the purpose of following him as the love of God and the love of neighbor, acted out in concrete ways and with real bread, real care, and real relationships.

The apostles took caring for people as a matter of life and death in ways that the church has never been able to muster the guts to replicate since.

I believe if we are to be faithful as Christians, then health care has to be much more than a commodity to be used by those who can afford it and hoarded against those who cannot.

Unless we want to be Egypt, Babylon, or Rome. And by my reading of the Bible, those empires don't fare too well.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Borrowed Words: Donald's Worries

I am borrowing from the church newsletter article written by my successor at a previous church. Then again, she borrowed from Erma Bombeck. Who in turn was borrowing from a young boy named Donald who was worried about school. So I don't feel too bad about borrowing.
My name is Donald, and I don't know anything. I have new underwear, a loose tooth, and I didn't sleep last night because I'm worried. What if the bell rings and a man yells, "Where do you belong" and I don't know? What if the trays in the cafeteria are too tall for me to reach? What if my loose tooth comes out when we have our heads down and supposed to be quiet? Am I supposed to bleed quietly? What if I splash water on my name tag and my name disappears and no one knows who I am?
How often do we feel this way in church?

How often do those who have no church background or a different background than ours feel like this?

How often do we assume we are supposed to bleed quietly, not let anyone know our hurt, our pain, our brokenness?

How often do we assume no one will know our name?

Donald's worries about the start of school are all too real for way too many people who need a kind and gentle welcome into church.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Uneven Steps

It seems strangely right that the bed and breakfast has such uneven floors and stairways. It is an old building, which has surely settled over many years. And we are taking new steps into strange and uncertain territory as we listen to Brueggemann extol the radical interpretive moves made in Deuteronomy, and so in our faith and preaching, so having uneven steps just makes sense.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Unmetered Worship pt. 2

Building on some of my thoughts in this post, I was listening to Walter Brueggemann field questions this morning, one of which was on the state of contemporary worship and "praise music" (whatever that is). He was asked what he thought of it, and he responded, "I'm an old guy, so I don't like it."

We laughed, and many of those in his same demographic nodded agreement.

He then went on to treat it with some seriousness, and said he saw two problems with praise music as it is currently being done:

1. It does not draw us back into the narrative of faith.

and

2. It is too easily tempted to slide into entertainment.

The first objection is a difficulty not realized by many parishioners of many churches, probably because many of the pastors have failed to frame worship as a draw back into, a foretaste of, a practice of, a recitation of the narrative of faith.

The second objection is to let worship become even more consumeristic than it has already become, and let whim and style rule over substance and deep meaning.

BUT,

What if new music were written in the style of current musical sensibilities, but drew us more deeply into faith narrative, and did so with an intentionality that precluded it being mere entertainment?

What if liturgy were made a living and active force for faith development again (with apologies to those churches for which is already is), and we held these warnings in mind regardless of what we are doing?

I think such music is possible, and hope to be further inspired in its creation.

Is that Isaac Watts I hear laughing in the background?

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Inappropriate Behavior

Coming off of this morning's sermon by Walter Brueggemann (don't you just love name droppers?), and having lunch at a place where children got scolded for overfilling their cups at the drink dispenser, I started thinking about inappropriate behavior.

Why do children get yelled at in the grocery store, grabbed and furiously whispered to at funeral visitations, and generally scolded wherever they go?

Mostly, I believe, for acting inappropriately for their surroundings or circumstances. Running around playing tag is inappropriate for a funeral home. Indoor voices only here in the house, please.

Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
Whoever humbles himself like this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me; but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened round his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea. (Matthew 18:3-6, RSV)
There is not simply a suggestion that childlike faith is good, there is a warning that without some quality like that of a child, one cannot be a part of the new life Jesus is preaching. With it comes a warning to those who would exploit this childlike quality.

But what is the quality of a child being commended?

Perhaps it is the ability to be inappropriate. I do not mean licentiousness or self-centered greediness or meanness. It is the ability to give an inappropriate response that is of the kingdom, of the neighborhood (to use Brueggemann's term) that Jesus preached. I mean an answer that is inappropriate to empire, to consumerism, to the world that would have us be lovely little cogs and productive little ants and anxious security-minded people who are always at level orange.

A response of hospitality is inappropriate to a threat of violence, and yet it might be an entrance to a whole new relationship and way of being.

A response of joy in the midst of a funeral is inappropriate to "how grown-ups ought to act," and yet how many of us laugh at a memory of our dearly departed with her favorite hat on at a jaunty angle or with his favorite pipe doing a Popeye imitation?

A response of thanksgiving in the midst of suffering is inappropriate (ought we not be yelling that we are the victim here?), and yet Martin Rinkart wrote "Now Thank We All Our God," while serving the church during the Thirty Years War and the severe plagues and famine that followed.

A response of kindness, of forgiveness, of compassion is inappropriate before we secure our recompence and our revenge and whatever passes for justice in our minds and hearts.

Children act inappropriately, as if they don't belong to the situation they are in. Adults reprimand them, teaching them what is appropriate and what is not. We children then become us adults, well conformed to expectations and the ideals of our age.

And yet faith, obedience to the Gospel, often requires an answer, a word, a stand, an attitude so foreign to the situation of the world, that it is hard to give in our conformity.

If we would but remember that we don't belong to the situation or the expectations, we belong to God. And if we are faithful, we will act inappropriately. Not in ways that hurt or demean or damage others or our community or our common humanity, but in the ways that build it up and deny these very hurtful, hateful ways of the world.

To be like a child is more than simply being able to play. It is belonging to a family, a faith, a hope, a life, that disregards the demands and expectations of the world we all think we live in for the sake of the neighborhood to which and in which we all belong.