Thursday, August 27, 2015

Confessions of a Pharisee

Pentectost 14

I have been a student of sociology since my college days.  Sociology examines the ways we all are shaped and impacted – for good and for ill -- by the social systems in which we participate.  Some of these impacts are conscious.  Many of them are not.  The fact that I was born a white male, in a middle class, blue collar, Lutheran family with a German heritage, in Wisconsin in the United States significantly shapes who I am and how I look at the world.  These realities impacted the opportunities that I had, the challenges I faced and privileges I enjoyed growing up.  The human systems I was born into provided me, and still provide me, with traditions, customs, perspectives and practices that I simply take for granted.  That is true for all of us.

It is very important for all of us to be aware of the way the systems in which we participate affect our lives.  I think this is especially true for people of faith.  As Christians, we need to ask ourselves if the human traditions, customs, perspectives and practices we take for granted actually conflict with God’s expectations and the way of Jesus we claim to follow.  These can be hard and sobering questions to wrestle with.  Jesus boils God’s expectations down to two:  “…you shall love the Lord you God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind and with all your strength.”  And, “…you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”  (Mark 12:29-31).  In Mark 7, Jesus challenges the Pharisees, and us, to measure all our human traditions against God’s command, and to understand that, where they conflict, God’s command always takes precedence.  Always.  Frequently, I have learned, that’s not easy, or comfortable or convenient.  

Over the past eighteen months, a group of us in the Arkansas-Oklahoma Synod have been meeting together to discuss and learn and confess the reality of racism in our society and, even more, in our lives.  We have read together, talked and listened to one another, prayed with one another and shared our stories with one another.  For me, it has been both enlightening and difficult.  I am exceedingly grateful for the brothers and sisters who have been my companions on this journey.  Through those conversations, I have come to understand that we all participate in systems that perpetuate racism and privilege those who, like me, are white and male.  There are things in my life that I just take for granted, that a person of color needs to think about continually.  There are opportunities in my life that I have enjoyed that persons of color have to struggle to achieve.  One simple, but telling, example:  I have never once had to stop and ask whether the fact that I am white and male would be a determining factor in receiving a call to minister in a particular place.  Rarely, have I needed to consider my race or gender as  I carry out my ministry after I received the call.  My colleagues and friends who are persons of color and/or female have to consider daily how their gender and/or the color of their skin will impact their ministry.   The human traditions which shape this reality are not in line with God’s command.  Unexamined, they do untold amounts of damage in our communities, in our churches and in our lives.

Rev. Elizabeth Eaton, the Presiding  Bishop of the  Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has called upon our church to join  the African Methodist Episcopal Church to recognize Sunday, September 6 as “Confession, Repentance and Commitment to End Racism Sunday”.   I join her in that call.   We all need to join the conversation.  We all need to find ways to combat both the blatant and often violent racism that is still alive and well in our Land, and also the much more insidious systemic racism in which we all participate.  To love our neighbor as God commands demands nothing less.

Peace,

Bishop Mike. 

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Are You Offended Yet?

Pentecost 13

Has the Gospel of Jesus Christ ever offended you?  No?  Then, perhaps, you haven’t been reading it carefully enough.  I think that a lot of us have managed to domesticate Jesus.  We have painted him as this nice guy, a friendly figure who was loving, kind, accepting and non-confrontational.  A gentle man who made people feel good about themselves.  Someone we can call on to be comforted in all our sorrows and, other than that, will pretty much leave us alone.  But offensive?  That’s a side we don’t think about much.  Oh, sure, maybe he offended the Scribes and the Pharisees and the Sadducees.  We cheer him on when he is prickling those folks.  But us?  Those of us who are disciples?  Never!

But that is not the picture the New Testament paints of Jesus.  Indeed, he was loving, kind and accepting – to the point that it scandalized both friends and foes alike.  He ate with tax collectors and sinners, he talked with women in public, he touched lepers and welcomed children.  He said and did things that offended the good people of his day, and inflamed the powerful to the point that they wanted him dead…  and eventually got their way.  In the end,  Jesus proved so scandalous that the Jewish leadership and their Roman supporters had him crucified, the crowds turned against him and Judas, one of his closest friends, betrayed him.

But us?  Jesus offend us?  I think it is easy to rationalize our way around some of the hard things Jesus said.  How about “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”  (Matthew 6:44)  Sure, maybe the neighbor next door who irritates us, but how about ISIS?  Surely Jesus didn’t mean them!  That would be, well, offensive!  But then, Jesus did pray that God forgive the Romans who were nailing him to the cross.  (Luke 23:34)  Or how about the time he told a potential follower,  “if you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor.”  (Matthew 19:21)  Certainly, he didn’t mean that for anyone but this man.  Why would he expect ME to give away more than 2% of my income?  (The average giving of Lutheran Christians is right around 2%)  Be reasonable, I need the other 98%!  To ask for more would be, well, offensive!   That’s just two examples.  There are plenty more. 

Jesus’ words and actions often challenge us.  They push us.  They break us open.  They help us to see and experience the world in a whole different way.  Ultimately, they drive us to our knees and draw forth a confession like Peter’s at the end of John 6,  “Lord, to whom can we go?  You have the words of eternal life!”   They help us to see that in Christ and the God he revealed there is food that will truly nourish our souls, and expose as empty calories the earthly things we tend to look to for meaning and hope.


Are you offended yet?  If not, keep following Jesus and you will be.  And, that’s really, really good news.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

More than Lutefisk



Pentecost 12
August 16, 2015

There is no doubt that Lutheran Christians love food.  A long time ago, at a planning session, one of my campus ministry students (who didn’t grow up Lutheran) asked,  “Can we plan an event this semester that doesn’t involve food?”  After looking at him weird, the life-long-Lutheran students around the planning table responded, “Why?”  Scandinavian Lutherans have their lutefisk and lefsa dinners.  The German-descent congregation I served had an annual Oktoberfest with plenty of brats and beer (and, being of German descent, I enjoyed every minute of it!)  Every Lutheran church I know prides itself in its potlucks.  Yes!  We love our food!

But the Lutefisk and Lefsa and Brats and Beer do not make us who we are as Lutheran Christians.  Not even close.  (No matter what certain radio personalities may imply).  Potlucks do not define us.   Sorry.  Instead, we are defined by a different meal.   We are defined by a bit of bread and a sip of wine.  We are defined by Jesus who, on the night in which he was betrayed, took bread and said, “This is my body” and a cup of wine and said, “This is my blood.”  (Mark 14:22-24; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26) We are defined by the One who declared “…unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.” (John 6:53)  This is the Church’s meal.  This is the life blood of the community of faith. 

When we come to the table, we receive the gift of eternal life that Jesus promises.  The forgiveness of sins, abundant life, and saving wholeness that Christ won for us on the cross and proved to us through an empty tomb fill us and flow through us and become a part of us.  His flesh becomes our flesh.  It is there, at the table as we share a bit of bread and a sip of wine that we become blood brothers and sisters to one another.  It is there, at the table where we are strengthened for life’s journey.  It is there, from the table that we are sent out into the world that God so loved to love as Christ loved us and to invite the world to join us at the table.  The whole world. No exceptions. 

For Lutheran Christians, every Sunday is a rehearsal of the life of faith, and a time to give thanks for the grace we have received “while we were yet sinners” (Romans 5:8)  through Jesus Christ.  Each Sunday service has two “high points”:  the proclamation of the Good News of Jesus Christ and the sharing of Christ’s Supper.  Yes, we Lutherans love our food.  But, we are more than lutefisk and lefsa, brats, beer and potlucks -- we are the body and blood of Christ for a starving world.

Peace,
Bishop Mike

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Living Bread

Pentecost 11

Innocents gunned down.
For the color of their skin.
Bibles open on the table.
Their families find the power to forgive.

Jesus said, “I am the living bread.”

Years of painful silence broken.
A friend comes out.
Embraced by a church,
Broke open to love and accept.  Finally.

Jesus said, “I am the living bread.”

Children perish in their school.
Shattered by tornado winds.
Christ is there.  Weeping.
Building hope with hugs and hammers.

Jesus said, “I am the living bread.”

Malaria kills with a sting.
Clean water cannot be found.
With nets and wells,
God’s people bring life.

Jesus said, “I am the living bread.”

Inside the confinement of prison walls,
A woman pays for her mistakes.
 “You are God’s child,” the deacon proclaims.
Grace and restoration.

Jesus says, “I am the living bread.”

We lay dying. 
Our body riddled with cancer.
Faith holds hands with hope.
A family comforted with a promise.

Jesus says, “I am the living bread.”

Hope in the midst of sorrow,
Life in the midst of death.
An empty tomb from a torturous cross.
This is why I keep following:

Jesus says, “I am the living bread.”

Come! Dine with me on Living Bread,
Join me at Christ’s table.
And together we will taste a love more powerful

than all the hate the world can bear.