Paris is burning

The first time I ever heard those three words was in a slightly different order (Is Paris Burning?) when I picked up a book about Hitler’s determination to destroy the city during World War II. The city survived–and has flourished.

But today…

Notre Dame Cathedral

Today, the city…and the world…is in mourning. The beautiful historic symbol of faith and France–Notre Dame–is in flames, even as I type this. The spire has fallen, the roof has collapsed, evacuations are being ordered because of fears that the walls may collapse outward…

A building that has stood for 600 years as a testament to the power of faith…that has touched many with the art and music that has come from it…that has survived multiple wars and bombings…is now being lost to us.

It is ironic that the fire is occurring during Holy Week. Perhaps it is an irony that can cause those of us who claim Christianity to better understand the feelings of those early apostles during the first Holy Week.

Yesterday was a day of celebration…the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. Towards the end of the week, the faithful will be being reminded of the dark days when it seemed that everything Jesus stood for was lost…that there was no future. I am sure that is how many are feeling right now as they watch the flames.

And yet…something new arose from the ashes of that first Holy Week. And that same faith can continue to cause us to hope that something new will arise from these ashes. It’s far too early to know what that might be…but faith does not die because a building is lost.

Faith is a trust…a belief…in something that cannot be seen. It is more than hope. It is more than buildings. And so, even as we mourn this loss–just as the disciples mourned the death of Jesus–we trust that a new day will dawn…that something new will arise from the ashes.

Some thoughts on cohabitation…

I’ve been watching and reading discussions on cohabitation and how it relates to the possibility for individuals’ ministry and their relationship to the church (specifically my faith community, but I know it’s problems in others as well).

At one point in my life, the answer would have been easy. Cohabitation was wrong. Period. No exceptions…no extenuating circumstances…no other perspective.

But as I’ve grown—both chronologically and spiritually—I’m realizing that the answer is NOT easy. And so I find myself living in a gap between my emotional feelings that developed so many years ago and the challenge to try to see through new eyes.

I’ve wondered if our perspective on marriage needs to be re-evaluated to help us look at the challenges cohabitation raises. Yes, it’s been around for a long time—but for many years, marriage was more a passing of “property”…of the woman into the custody of her husband. Even in Christian countries, marriage was not particularly church-related. Again, it was often for the passing of property and the cementing of political alliances—not the commitment of two people who loved each other and who wanted to spend their lives together.

In fact, many times that commitment was simply expressed through a choice to begin living together…perhaps acknowledged by a hand-fasting or some other communal acknowledgment.

While I am in full support of marriage, that has been relatively easy for me. I am a heterosexual female, and so there was no question but that marriage was a probability for me (although I also now realize that was not necessarily a given).

But for many of my LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters, marriage has not been any kind of possibility/probability until fairly recently. While some have chosen to not commit in any way, others have found their own way of making commitments to each other—commitments that are as real as the commitment my husband and I made to each other. Should they not be honored as well? In many ways, we are asking an entire community to make changes in how they relate to the rest of us without our being willing to acknowledge our lack of commitment to them…and an awareness of how that has shaped their community.

There are also challenges for heterosexual couples as well. Because of the way some of our financial systems are set up, marriage for older individuals may mean losing financial security. There are many reasons why both older and younger individuals may choose to forgo marriage, and I would not presume to know them all.

I don’t necessarily agree with some of these choices. But I have known—and continue to know—many couples who are in longterm committed relationships whose commitment to each other is as strong (and sometimes stronger) as the commitments of my married friends.

So while I strongly support marriage, I also don’t think that a “one size fits all” model works either. When we try to force everyone into a single box, we risk missing out on possibilities of ministry—both given and received.

I believe we need to look seriously at how commitment is expressed. In many cases, that may be through marriage. But not always—and I think that to insist that marriage is the only expression of a committed relationship does harm…to the individuals involved, to the church, and to the community.

Too many parallels…

As I have been looking back through history recently, I am struck by what seem to be parallels between the US today and Germany in the 1930s. They’re not complete parallels, but there are enough similarities that I find myself wondering…

Many Germans in the 1930s were struggling financially. They wanted a strong leader who would make things right again, and so many voted for Adolf Hitler, a man who promised that he would restore Germany to its pre-WWI greatness. It didn’t matter to his supporters that there were followers who were willing to resort to violence to help Hitler enforce his policies.

As is often the case when things are not going well, humans need to find a scapegoat. The situation must be the fault of someone else…that takes any responsibility away decisions from we might have made. And the easiest scapegoats to find are those who are somehow “other.” In Germany it became the Jews. They were described as criminals, parasites, vermin who needed to be exterminated.

Today I see similar language being used towards those who are “other” in the US. Immigrants are being described as invaders, animals, criminals—who need to be exterminated lest they somehow infect the “white race.” How can we not see the similarities?

I find myself wondering as well about the role of the church in all of this. There are some differences between Christianity in the 1930s Germany and Christianity in the US today, but there are also striking similarities.

Germany had a strong Christian background, although it was also laced with a strain of anti-Semitism that has unfortunately been a part of Christian history for centuries. It was easy for Hitler and his party to tap into that strain while at the same time claiming to be in support of Christian values. And also unfortunately, many Christian pastors fell in line, giving Hitler a cover of legitimacy by their support.

There were some—both members and pastors—who saw this relationship between government and the church to be problematic. They felt that rather than following Jesus, too many were following Hitler. Eventually some joined together to try to draw the church back to its foundation where the worship of Jesus was paramount, creating what became known as “the Confessing church.”

I realize this is a simplified portrayal, but the parallels continue to haunt me. Is Christianity in America at the same crossroads Christianity was in Germany in the 1930s? Are those of us who understand Jesus’ call to be ministers to the vulnerable facing the challenges of (1) standing in opposition to the language that negates the humanity of the “other” and (2) needing to band together across denominational lines to try to draw Christianity back to its foundation of worshiping Christ instead of binding the ties tightly between church and government?

I struggle with these questions because I have people whom I like who would say that I am wrong in these feelings. And yet I also cannot ignore the call I feel to stand and speak in support of the vulnerable. I realize that may mean losing friends, and I regret that. But again, the Jesus I worship worked with and ministered to the vulnerable and marginalized—can I do less?

 

Doing God’s work…?

The last couple of years I’ve heard a number of people say that they believe that Donald Trump won the presidency because that’s where God placed him…that he has been anointed by God…that he is indeed a follower of Jesus.

So I have a couple of questions for those of you who believe this. I’m serious in asking these questions.

  • How does his life show that he is a follower of Jesus?
  • What exactly is he doing that is God’s work?

Here’s the problem I have. I know that God uses flawed human beings–I’ve heard this statement a lot when questions have been raised about Trump. But Jesus said that “by their fruits you will know whether people are my followers” (my paraphrase)–and the “fruits” I see don’t correlate with how I see followers of Jesus.

This is just a partial list of the issues I have with the claim that Trump is God’s anointed, placed in the presidency to do God’s work:

  • His life shows a lack of the basic morality followers of Jesus show (i.e., multiple affairs, cheating on each of his wives with the woman who became his next wife).
  • Through the years he has “stiffed” those who have done work at many of his properties–refusing to pay bills and leaving many of those who have worked for him struggling to pay their debts.
  • He has refused to listen to the advice and counsel of those with training and experience in scientific, political and military affairs, often overriding their counsel with negative results.
  • He has insulted our allies and cozied up to and with dictators, expressing appreciation for how they run their countries.
  • He has demonized specific ethnic and religious groups, calling immigrants “invaders, thugs, rapists.”
  • Even though he promised to support members of the LGBT!+ communities, his policies are removing protections for them and leaving them vulnerable.
  • At his rallies, he accuses those who don’t agree with him as being “enemies of the people.”
  • He constantly accuses the mainstream news of being “fake news.”
  • When someone disagrees with him at a rally, he encourages calls of “throw them out” or “lock them up.”
  • He has surrounded himself with individuals who have been charged–and in some cases, already found guilty–of corruption in various forms.
  • His cabinet appointees, in many cases, are individuals whose stated purpose is to do away with the very departments they are tasked with running.
  • He created a policy that separated children from their families without keeping track of them or plans to reunite them…families that were already vulnerable because they were fleeing violence.
  • His priorities–as shown in his proposed budget–cut programs that aid the most vulnerable among us.
  • One of his big focuses is on building a wall of separation, when Jesus worked to tear down walls.

So how does any of this correlate with Jesus’ call to take care of the vulnerable? to live a moral life? to love others and to treat the stranger in our midst as we would want to be treated?

How does this correlate with God’s work? I just don’t get it.

 

Into the desert

Somehow it seems appropriate that during this season of Lent I feel at times like I am in the desert.

Last Sunday’s lectionary scripture was about Jesus going into the desert after his baptism for a time of preparation that included testing. His response to those tests helped him know whether he was ready to begin his ministry.

I’m not really sure why I feel like I’m in the desert. I don’t think I’m facing any specific tests…although perhaps I am. Just not the specific kinds of tests that Jesus faced.

Part of what I’m facing is the need to let go of the desire to “fix” people…to make them conform to my expectations. That’s not really a bad thing, if those expectations include decisions that would lead to healthy living…but I have to allow them to make their own decisions if they are going to become who they have the potential of becoming. I may cringe at some of those decisions (and I do), but it’s not my responsibility to “fix” them. I can guide and offer suggestions, but ultimately I have to let them go.

Another part of what I’m facing is my frustration with the gap I see at times between what people say they believe and what words and actions show. I’m guilty of this as well, I know–and so I need to offer grace. I think, though, the challenge I face is between giving grace–and calling out the gap when it is harmful to others.

And I know that there are still some tender places that need to continue to heal from past experiences. Being in the desert forces me to face them…forces me to consider my own role in those experiences. It’s not necessarily pleasant, but it’s important for me to acknowledge that fault in those situations is not one-sided.

I’ve been in the desert before, and I’ll probably be there again. So I know that I will emerge from this experience stronger than I was before…more prepared for ministry opportunities that may be coming my way.

But it still doesn’t mean that going into the desert is fun.

It’s not. But it’s an essential part of the spiritual journey.

woman wearing purple hooded jacket sitting on rock

Photo by Pete Johnson on Pexels.com

Why do I write?

There are several answers to the title question, and they change from time to time. However, my current reason for writing this blog is to give folks a different perspective of someone who claims to be a Christian from the vocal view that seems to dominate so much of our society today.

While I realize that there are different ways of understanding what it means to follow the one we call Jesus the Christ, I find some of the current interpretations in direct opposition to the teachings of the Jesus I know.

That Jesus was inclusive. His circle of friends and followers included people that other religious people thought should be excluded for various reasons. Even some of his own disciples weren’t particularly fond of some of the others!

He was willing to challenge the status quo and to upset tradition. Quite often people said to him, “Well, Moses said…” in an attempt to keep things the way they were. And his response was “Well, yes, Moses did say…but say…”

He didn’t hold grudges. Even when he was dying a cruel death, he forgave the ones who put him on the cross.

And when he was asked what the most important law was, he said it was the law of love. Love of God, love of others, love of self. Everything that I read and understand about Jesus is captured in that perspective.

And because the Jesus of inclusivity, of reconciliation, of continued growth is the Jesus I choose to follow…the form of Christianity I believe he asks us to follow…I choose to try to live through the lens of love. Do I always succeed? No…but I keep trying.

And because that Jesus of inclusivity and reconciliation is the one I choose to follow, I want you to know that I believe there is a place at the table for you. We may have some challenging discussions…we will not always agree…but you are invited to join with me in this journey of living life through the lens of love.

“God has a plan”…

Several times I’ve heard people say “Well, God has a plan for you”…

Sorry, but I don’t agree.

Saying that God has plan for you implies that there is only one way of getting to a particular point that is acceptable to God…and I don’t buy that.

It’s like climbing mountains. Often there are multiple ways of climbing that will get you to the top.

If God has a plan for us, I believe it’s for us to enter into a loving relationship with the Divine that will help us become what we have been created to be…and there are multiple ways to develop that relationship.

We were created with the ability to make choices…to make decisions for ourselves. Not to be puppets.

I believe God wants us to use the minds we were created with…and I also believe that God will bless our journeys.

I know the path I have chosen to take–and it is the right path for me at this time. It has had twists and turns, some of them caused by decisions I have made, some by situations beyond my control. Early in my life I could have said that I was sure of God’s plan for me…but as I’ve gotten older, what I am sure of is that God’s plan is for me to come to know of God’s love for me and to fulfill the potential within me…and that how I get there is not as important as continuing the journey.

So maybe…just maybe…God does have a plan for each of us–and that plan is to continue our journey to a closer relationship with the Divine, no matter the path.