August 2008

Jan and I are only three months away from celebrating our 25^th wedding anniversary.

We had a great wedding. Our wedding grew from a small intimate gathering of 200 to over 500 guests. We had no idea that when we extended an open invitation to several churches that everyone would really show up. We walked ourselves down the aisle. By the time we reached the front, everyone was shouting and clapping, and cheering. And then Jan turns around and curtsies. I knew then, I was in for a wild ride.

But the service was a holy moment. It was a celebration of God who brought us together, and who I think made us for each other. We were there telling the story of our love, bearing witness to our love, and promising to do all the things necessary to stay in love with each other. Everyone there felt God's presence in a real and tangible way.

And, of course, we had no idea what our promise covered. We had no idea all the moves, aches and pains, surgeons and wonders such a promise would cover. This is the miracle of love itself. We gained the capacity to make impossible promises, and with just more than a little grace, we have had love to cover impossibilities we never anticipated.

Since that time I have tried to turn every wedding into an occasion of love. I haven't always succeeded. Sometimes it's been just a wedding, nice, lovely, full of love, but not quite the God-filled moment I had hoped for. There are too many intangibles. Too much family history. Sometimes it's just a wedding. But in every wedding there is the possibility that it will turn into a holy moment where love is made visible.

The Catholic Church sees the possibility realized in every marriage and declares that marriage is a sacrament; that in the occasion of a wedding, God's loving nature is revealed. Protestants see the potentiality of a wedding being a moment of divine love, but also see the practical and mundane. Sometimes it's just a wedding. So Protestants don't consider marriage a sacrament. But it holds the possibility of becoming a moment of divine love.

Meanwhile, society has moved on. Church wedding means a wedding in a church location, not a divine moment. There are quickie weddings, shotgun weddings, marriages of convenience, weddings of necessity. There are parents who hold off getting married because they don't want the baggage of marriage. There are weddings performed every day in Vegas that are close up drive- ins, or where the minister is dressed as Elvis. (Songs cost extra!) We have weddings performed by judges, clerks, Internet-ordained clergy, and deputized officials. Sometimes the only thing faster than a wedding is a quickie divorce.

So now it seems to me we have weddings that are sacraments, weddings that are rituals and weddings that are ceremonies. The California Supreme Court has ruled that same sex persons can be married in legal ceremonies. The Supreme Court does not have jurisdiction over church rituals or sacramental weddings.

The official Methodist position is that church weddings are between men and women. I can certainly make a biblical and theological position for such a position. In fact, the church rules state that clergy cannot perform same-sex marriages at all—even if not in a church. Pastors who do so will be brought up on charges, and could have their ordination revoked. (On the other hand, the church rules never really define what part of the wedding ceremony constitutes “performance” so there is lots of room for legal haggling and “gaming” the system.)

But one of the lessons I learned early in my ministry is that what may be theological questionable still may be pastorally right. For example, there can be considerable theological debate about abortion, but when a parishioner is having an abortion and wants a prayer from her pastor; it's not the time to argue theology.

I have friends and colleagues who now find themselves in interesting pastoral situations. There are members in their congregation who have been members for decades. They are good Methodists. They are trustees, on leadership team, and lay members to annual conferences. They are gay. They have been in committed relationships for years. In fact they have stayed together while many heterosexual couples have been married and divorced several times. And now they have a chance to get married. They want their pastor. What is the pastorally correct thing to do?

And what if the pastorally right thing is deemed illegal by the church that made you a pastor? Some of my friends are arguing that their calling to be a pastor supersedes the church's recognition of that calling, that the pastoral right thing is a higher spiritual good. Other pastor friends are making the case that pastoral authority is not sufficient grounds for overturning scripture or tradition.

Personally, I am something of a traditionalist. I would love for marriage to remain as a ritual between a man and a woman. But I would want the church to creatively develop a new ritual for honoring and celebrating same-sex unions. Unfortunately, society does not allow this option—even if the church would design such a ritual. There are just too many legal arrangements that come to play globally that are connected up with marriage. Without marriage, same-sex persons end up in terrible personal situations.

Almost every pastor I know has had a situation similar to this: a gay couple that has been committed to each other for 29 years. They held onto each other even though their families rejected them. The families rejected them because they were gay, and doubly rejected them because they were gay and living together. One partner suddenly developed cancer. It was aggressive, fast-growing, silent. There were no symptoms until it was already way too late for anything but hospice.

So as one partner was dying, the healthy partner discovered he had no rights. The alienated family got to make all the health care decisions; all the “pulling the plug” decisions, all the burial and funeral decisions. (And yes, they were as vindictive as you feared!) The live-in partner of 20-plus years—the one who functioned as spouse— was tossed out and rejected, given no voice or vote or presence. Having gay marriage would eliminate this kind of oppression.

But I think the church needs to temporarily allow same-sex marriage for an entirely different reason. The reason I think we should try gay marriage goes back to the idea of marriage as a holy moment of divine love.

If we do not allow same-sex marriage, then we have no way of knowing whether God's divine presence blesses such a marriage. We can argue that it might. We can argue that it won't, but we won't know for certain unless we intentionally and professionally begin same-sex marriages. It is the church's job to turn a ceremony into a ritual. It is God's job to turn a ritual into a divine and holy moment of love.

Personally, I think it would look bad if I denied a same-sex couple that ritual when God was planning to show up at the wedding. The church has a long history of making rules for what God can and cannot do, only to discover God either ignored the rules, made new rules, or overturned our rules.

I think to be faithful to God means being open to the Spirit of God turning ordinary events into miracles, and changing ceremonies into holy moments. Of course, if God does show up at same-sex marriages, then not only will that resolve the issue, but it will give us even more hard work to do. We will again be in the awkward position of having to redefine what we thought scriptures were saying in light of what God is actually doing.

Pastor Mark

 

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WILEYAN WISDOM — JULY 2008

When I was growing up, I never learned to cook. In those days boys weren't in the kitchen except to do clean up chores. I don't even think we did much grilling as a family. But when I attended seminary, I joined a Christian community. We called ourselves Threshold. We were always doing something new and different. We were always looking at things from a different point of view. (I am sure you're surprised about that news!) One of the house rules was that we all had to have dinner together. Another house rule was that everyone had to share in the cooking. We took turns. Cooking did not mean calling Pizza Hut (which we couldn't afford anyway) nor just cooking chili and grilled cheese. So I learned to cook for groups of ten or more.

Cooking was not something that was in my blood. I never really cared for it. Nor did I pay that much attention to the recipes either. I followed their directions, but never felt like I owned them or that I had favorites.

Several years ago, however, I discovered a recipe book that caught my attention. It was unusual in that there were no pictures in it. No glossy photos of delightful and wonderful tasting creations. The book was entitled “Recipes from Hell” (or something close to that!) The book was a collection of recipes from Jewish women who died in Nazi death camps. Each night, after the lights were out, those women who were still alive would begin conversations and even arguments about their favorite recipes.

What started as a way to remember normalcy turned into an act of defiance. In the middle of death, they were talking about the things which provided life. While they had little or no food, they were creating elaborate meals of extravagance. While they waited to die, they declared that life would go on. Eventually they found ways to smuggle their recipes out. One of them wrote in such small letters that they could inscribe a recipe on a stamp of Adolph Hitler. The recipes did get lost in someone's attic for fifty years, but when they did resurface, they were remarkable.

Imagine being in a place where you just waited for your number to be called to die. Imagine being in a place where there was almost no food, no water, no privacy and no sanitation, while you waited to die. And in this place, you argued about how much cinnamon to use in sweet rolls. Their recipes were and are a witness that tradition and community are stronger than fear and terror. The recipes reveal a faith in the certainty of life; that they would die, but what they had received and reshaped would survive and be used by someone else. Some of the recipes are not really usable. Ingredients have been forgotten. But most of the recipes are astounding in their attention to detail. Oh, and the first recipe in the book is of German chocolate cake!

I was reminded of the recipes this week when I was watching the food network show about the Memphis in May BBQ event. There were 1,200 competitors from across the globe that came to this event to compete for the best BBQ. People competed in BBQ ribs, shoulder, and the whole hog. There were lots of arguments. There was a lot of “smack talking”. Should we use mustard or not? (One guy said Mustard! We are not making corn dogs here! Ouch!) What sugar is best or pepper or apple juice? What wood to use, and even how you place the meat on the grill?

The link between these two groups—aside from dealing with food—is that they were both passionate about their recipes in the core of their being. The passion sustained their life, gave purpose to their life, and became the reason they kept on going—even if they lost the competition or lost their life.

We in the Methodist church have misplaced our passion. Maybe its been bred out of us. We have a great church. This is a church where you can think heretical or outlandish ideas and be loved all the more for having shared them. This is a place for people who want a second chance. This is a place for people in crisis. But we never tell anyone. We act is if we don't want bragging rights. We really don't want to hurt other people's feelings or be labeled as a religious wacko. So we live quiet church lives.

But I think toning down our passion is spiritually debilitating. In the interest of not hurting feelings, we lost the energy we need to be truly spiritual. Jesus was not bashful. He put himself into the spotlight. He invited the church and all his followers to be the city on the hill; so full of brightness and energy and passion that everyone could see.

Of course, not everyone is going to be attracted. And there will be those who oppose our passionate sharing. Some will think its bragging. So what? I think we ought to stop worrying about their feelings and feel free to express our own. In our society there is nothing wrong with being wildly passionate about a sports team, or a BBQ cook off, but we are not encouraged to be passionate about our church. I think its time to discover our “recipes” and get passionate. It's time to declare church as our sport, and the Gospel is our recipe for life.

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 WILEYAN WISDOM,  Spring 2008

Sometimes God annoys me. I know that's not proper for a pastor to admit. But there are times God does something unexpected and out of character. It's so annoying to have to rethink and relearn something I thought I already knew. Whenever this happens, and it does with annoying regularity, it's always a shock. It feels like God is being sneaky. I know some of you don't like me using the word sneaky to apply to God. My seminary professors would cringe. It's not a very religious word. But it's the only word I've found that describes the feelings when I discover what God has been up to. Oh, I think there are some others that might fit, such as mischievous or manipulative, but the connotations of these words aren't much better.

When I use the word sneaky, I don't mean that God is in any way sinister, or creepy, or going about doing evil, or that God is in any way doing harm. I mean sneaky in the way we go about setting things up to surprise people. Or when we are trying to do a really great thing in order to help someone who doesn't want help. Or when we are finding a way around the rules in order to do a compassionate thing.

Let me give you an example. One time I was relaxing, reading a science fiction book about alternative time history. In the middle of the story was a theological discussion about the nature of the Trinity. What? Who in their right mind includes theology in science fiction? When is the Trinity ever discussed outside seminary? It's annoying. God is upsetting things. Now instead of relaxing I have to think about things.

So, my latest example comes from a computer magazine. I was reading about the latest computer games (my hobby). The computer magazine highlights all manner of games for computers. (I leave video games to Nick.) The magazine talked about a new vocabulary game. The game is available free, on-line. The game presents you with a word, and four choices of the meaning of that word. Naturally, as you get the meaning correct, the words gets tougher, and you go up in levels. The harder the words, the more you want to beat the game. Now, the bad thing is that if you miss the meaning, you have to get three words right in order to move back up to the level you were at before you missed one. (How annoying!!)

So far, this game sounds like other vocabulary games. But here's the difference. There are no prizes. There no rewards. There is no spectacular music, bells, whistles or graphics. You don't even get your name up in lights or on a scoreboard. But every time you play, you earn rice. Yes, rice. For each right answer you provide, rice is donated to the United Nations global food relief program. You are playing a game to feed the world! This radical idea started in 0ctober 2007. So far over 23 billion grains of rice have been provided. The game is found at freerice.com

I should warn you. The game is considerably more challenging than solitaire! I told Jan about the site. She not only talked about it in her sermon, she actually went online during her sermon and showed people how to do it. She is way ahead of me. She was playing games during a sermon!

Each word that you correctly match with its meaning wins 20 grains of rice. 20 grains of rice isn't much. How many grains of rice accompany your burrito or grilled chicken? I did some informal checking. One forkful of rice is about 50 grains. That's 3 right words. But spending ten minutes playing the game will donate 500 grains of rice (if you're vocabulary is good), 250 grains if you are not so good. And the rice goes to people who are starving.

In a magazine dedicated to playing games, I learned there is a game that will actually change the world. I've now made it a spiritual discipline. Play ten forkfuls a day. (In case you want the math, it's 40 right words a day!) If I forget, then the next day's game takes longer. If that's too little, play for 20 forkfuls. Eventually, you will feed a person for one meal. In your free time!

Do you see why I think sometimes God is sneaky? I think God just loves doing this kind of stuff. I suspect that if we keep looking for ways that God is working this way, each of us will discover other ways God is sneaky. We can all share the stories and the discoveries.

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WILEYAN WISDOM, March 2008

When I was doing my undergraduate work at San Diego State, I discovered Greco-Roman history. Actually, as is probably true for most of us, I really found a great teacher— Charlie Hamilton. He was professor of Greco-Roman history, later became chair of the Classics department. We had great fun. He was a teacher when I was in the atheistic stage. He was my teacher when I became a Christian and decided to go into seminary.

He didn't think much of the church. Very few historians do. We have done too much damage to others in the name of the good we are trying to defend or represent. (For example, did you know that the church invented the torture we now call water boarding. The church used it to extract confessions of faith: Repent or drown).

But Charlie said, something must have happened. The gospels themselves portray the disciples as defeated, demoralized, and frightened that they would end up on the cross. Yet within 50 years, an insignificant number of years in historical time, there were Christian churches in every major port city in the Roman Empire. Leaderless movements do not restart with such an unstoppable force.

And the very fact that every Gospel records the women as the first witnesses to the resurrection lends it creditability. No self-respecting literary giant in the ancient world would even have women as the only heroic characters. Books, even history books, were written with characters having great flaws —even if those characters were nations. There were women characters in the books. Never the stars. Never the ones who keep their faith while others lose their faith. Obviously they had not met the UMW. So having the women as the first witnesses lends credulity to the Christian story of what happens.

Though Matthew agrees the women were the first witnesses—the ones who see the risen Jesus first--Matthew has another group in the story that no one else records: the guards. Guards? There are guards in the Easter story? Since only Matthew mentions the guards, we usually leave that detail out of the story when we tell it.

It seems the religious authorities were worried that Jesus' disciples would raid the tomb, and carry off his body. They didn't want Jesus to be a martyr. Governments have toppled over the death of a beloved leader. Just last week, elections in Pakistan were affected by the killing of a political leader. So the religious authorities asked Pilate to guard the tomb of Jesus with a military police escort.

He refused. Use your own cops, he said. Police guards, National Guard, temple SWAT teams. Did you have any idea that the temple had their own? Evidently the Romans were to provide military force and put down any political rebellions, but the enforcement of spiritual laws was delegated to the temple. So they had to have army police to enforce things. And since the temple could accommodate thousands on high holy days, the temple police was a sizeable force.

So Jesus' tomb was guarded. The guards heard Easter. They heard a crash as loud as a trinity of lightning bolts striking the ground. The earth moved. Thunder crashed. They could have been the first Easter witnesses. They could have been witnesses. How amazing! The ones sent to guard the dead Jesus could have become the first ones who bear witness to his rising. But they took off. They reported back to their superiors several hours later. They ran away in fear and missed seeing Jesus.

His wounds were now scars. Mortal wounds were now healed. Jesus was alive and well and still walked in the garden in the cool of the afternoon even though he had been through the worse humanity had to offer.

I think Easter always happens every Easter. There is always an Easter sunrise moment when the earth shakes. If we listen carefully we can hear the universe's fanfare. We want to hear Easter.

I think last year we experienced that moment at Easter sunrise. We heard it in the noise of chairs. Do you remember? We set up forty chairs. Then we got more chairs, and then we had chairs for 80. Then we got more chairs to 100. Then we got more chairs to 120. It was a take-your- breath-away moment.

We need to be on our guard to look for the Easter moment. We do not want to miss it because we can only hear the sound of our fears.

We want to witness the risen Jesus. Jesus will show up walking among the dead places in our hearts, in our community, and even in the world. Listen, Easter is just around the corner.

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WILEYAN WISDOM, February 2008

We have heard the news we knew was coming, but never really wanted to hear. Rev Steph is being reappointed to her own church as solo pastor. Even though we will send her off with our prayers and blessings, we will miss her terrible. She will continue to be a pastor here until mid-June, and you can count on the church having an awesome farewell extravaganza.

Since the announcement of her leaving, I have had many questions about what happens next. When will we hear about our new associate pastor? What is the process for receiving a new pastor? What choices/input do we have in the selection process? How does this whole appointment process work? So here's how it all works.

Methodist have always been a little different than other church folks. We are a little bit Baptist and a little bit Catholic, a little bit Bible and a little bit Holy Spirit, a little tradition and a little bit independent thinkers. A little bit democratic and a little bit hierarchical, a little bit social gospel and a little bit pious. We can see this most clearly in the way churches receive their ministers.

Within Christianity there are basically four models for churches and pastors. As you might imagine there is no perfect system. Each has strengths and liabilities. Each has limitations and special features. For example, the Methodist system is excellent for pastors who are women or pastors who are over 55. But it doesn't reward pastors who excel in particular areas of ministry.

One model is for pastors to start their own churches. Pastors start from scratch, develop their own churches, the pastor is the CEO and the Chairperson of the Corporation. The pastor often makes the organizational rules for the congregation. If the church survives beyond the start up pastor, the pastor usually chooses his or her own successor.

The second model is often referred to as the call system. The congregation members have the right to hire and to fire their pastor. The process begins with a congregational vote to hire a new pastor. The church establishes a search committee. The search committee is in charge of selecting the most likely candidates. Often candidates are invited to the church to meet the search committee, to preach, and to meet the people. The congregation will vote to make an offer. If the offer is accepted, the pastor is considered called to that church. Baptists, Presbyterians, and UCC are some of the churches that “call” their pastors. Most non- denominational churches follow this model.

The third model is called the appointed model. Local churches do not choose their pastors but rather receive their pastors. The pastor is appointed by a group or individual outside the local church structure. There may be formal or informal rules about how long a pastor stays. Churches often receive voice but no vote in the process.

The fourth model doesn't really have an official name. I will call it the democratic model. In some churches—such as Amish or Mormon—the pastoral leadership is chosen by the congregation from the congregation. The pastoral leadership rotates among the members. Different churches have different lengths of time in which a person may function as pastor.

Methodists used to combine parts of the third and fourth approaches. Ministers called “circuit riders” would rotate between churches. They traveled a circuit that might involve multiple churches over huge geological distances, so the minister would arrive only 4 times a year. (This is where the Methodist church came up with the rule of communion 4 times a year.) The minister was a traveling evangelist, administered the sacraments, buried the dead, etc. But when the minister wasn't there, the lay leader functioned as pastor. The church elected a person who functioned as pastor.

Over time, the Methodist Church has settled on a modified appointed process. Pastors are ordained into a conference, not into a church. Pastors can then be appointed by the Bishop to any church in the conference. The bishop has the power to appoint pastors. The Bishop has helpers called District Superintendents who manage districts within the conference. They make recommendations of appointments within their district. Some Bishops give them the power to make appointments within their districts. The local church has voice but do not usually vote on their pastors.

We get to name what kind of pastor we are looking for. We create the job description. Sometimes pastors and churches can refuse an appointment. The DS and Bishop may reconsider the appointment, especially if there is a compelling reason. But the power to make the decision—even if church disagrees—is in the hands of the Bishop.

The committee in the church responsible for the profile and job description and for representing the church's need to the DS is the staff- parish committee. If you have something to share with about the church or job descriptions please feel free to contact the SPRC or Pastor Mark. They are already at work on the material they will present to the DS. They are also planning the goodbye party for Rev. Steph. I am sure they will be asking your help. Stay tuned for the latest news.

Oh, I have no idea when all this sharing and meeting will take place. The DS and Bishop meet regularly between now and June to make the appointments. SPRC will be letting you know once they have met with the new person. The appointment process is likely to be slow this year because General Conference meets in April. Look for more about General Conference in the next newsletter.

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WILEYAN WISDOM, January 2008

I never heard of Epiphany until I went to seminary. For some reason, Epiphany is not included in the church language of most Methodists.

But Epiphany is one of those words we should reclaim, and use often. The word itself, which sounds wonderful, literally means the “appearance of God”. The Bible is full of Epiphanies. God shows up everywhere. In the Garden of Eden, before Adam and Eve ate the fruit salad that was clearly marked for table display purposes only, God dropped by every afternoon for tea and scones. Well, okay, it doesn't actually say tea and scones, just that God regularly dropped by. And if God were a regular, wouldn't they have some goodies to share? If Santa gets milk and cookies, God surely rates better snacks, hence tea and scones.

The word Epiphany also means a radical shift in perspective. When God shows up, everything changes. Nothing is ever again the same. You are now seeing everything in the world and everything that happens to you in a new light. The best movie illustration I can think of is from the movie “Searching for Bobby Fisher.”

The movie begins with an eight-year-old child playing hide and seek at a birthday party. As he is hiding in the bushes, he sees something at this feet. He picks up a knight on a horse. When he lifts his eyes up from the piece, he looks though the bushes and sees men playing chess in the park. In that moment, he knows how to play chess. Even though he has never played it before, and doesn't know the names of the pieces, he knows how to play. It is his gift, his passion, his life. He had an Epiphany.

Epiphany is very special in the history of the Christian church. Epiphany is always January 6. It is twelve days after Christmas. Yes, you guessed it; it's the 12^th day of Christmas. The tradition in the church is that the Magi arrived 12 days after the baby Jesus was born.

No one knows how they missed the actual birth date. My personal theory is that they got held up by airport security and the border patrol. I can understand why they might have had trouble with security. They were carrying gold, frankincense and myrrh. Two of those substances were banned. Individuals could not own, sell, or trade either gold or frankincense. Gold was the currency of nations, and frankincense was used only for the offering to God in the temple. (So the first gifts given to the baby Jesus were illegal! Now this is a new twist on Christmas giving, but that's another sermon!)

In any event, they arrived 12 days late. And they brought the gifts. So in the early church the first celebration of Christmas was on January 6. The Eastern Orthodox Church keeps this tradition alive by celebrating Christmas and giving gifts on January 6.

When the Western Roman Church changed the celebration of Jesus birthday to December 25, they had a problem. There were now two days to celebrate the birth of our Lord. So they came up with a great idea—the 12 days of Christmas. Christmas is not one day but a season lasting between Dec 25 and January 6. Christmas is too big an idea, too big a party, too big an event, too powerful an Epiphany to honor for just one day. We need 12 days because Christmas is the global Epiphany. The baby shows up to save the whole planet. (Just a note, that's why we still sing carols in church long after all the other music, has returned to normal).

Epiphany also has a special personal meaning to me. Jan and I were engaged on Epiphany—25 years ago.

My life is a living example of an Epiphany. My life and perspective totally changed with our life together.

She has certainly been my best Christmas present ever! (And life with Jan is a lot more fun than Chess!)

So I invite you to come to our Epiphany open house on January 5 and 6. Drop by from 1-5 in the afternoon. Our neighbors would appreciate you carpooling. And even if you can't drop by, I wish you a joyful and wonderful life-changing Epiphany.

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December 2007 Wileyan Wisdom

The first Christmas lights appeared in retail stores on September 30. In previous years, stores waited until after Halloween. In some stores this year, Halloween was almost squished out of existence before it had even arrived! In church life, we never put up Christmas decorations until Advent. Advent is always the four Sundays prior to Christmas.

No one is quite sure who started Advent. We know that the first official mention of Advent was in the year 380 in Saragossa, Spain. We also know the practice of Advent was well established within 100 years of its first mention. We have no idea if the early documents established Advent or merely reported it. Church historians suspect Advent was modeled after the season of Lent. Just as worshippers needed Lent to prepare them for Easter, Christians needed Advent to prepare them for Christmas.

But once started, the Advent season took on a life of its own. For example, some theologians have pointed out that everyone in the Christmas story made a journey. The angels come from heaven, Mary and Joseph traveled from Nazareth. The shepherds left their flocks in the hills. The magi came from somewhere back east. The ones who never saw the Christ child were the ones who never made any kind of journey. Herod never saw Christ because he stayed in Jerusalem. The guests at the inn—right next door—never met Christ because they never left their rooms. So if we want to see the Christ child, we need our own journey to Bethlehem. Advent is our spiritual pilgrimage to see the Christ in Christmas.

I begin my Advent journey by going to Nordstrom's. I am probably one the very few people who go to Nordstrom's for theological reasons. But I have gone to Nordstrom's during every Advent. I have made it a point to buy one thing per Advent. (This is all I can afford!) But I started going to Nordstrom's in Advent because when I started ministry they were the only store that did not decorate for Christmas before Thanksgiving. Whether they knew it or not, they were the Advent Store. They have also kept this tradition alive. Even this year, when everyone is hustling out their Christmas stuff in hopes of early sales, Nordstrom's is keeping with their tradition. Advent is the season when we honor the traditions.

I think there is a great power in starting Christmas slow. During Advent, while the rest of the world is moving at warp speed, we are lighting one candle at a time. We are looking for something to happen. And if we move too fast, we might miss it.

The very heart of Advent is waiting. Fredrick Buechner defines Advent as that moment just before the play begins; when the house lights are dimming, before the music begins, and before the curtain is opened... Something is about to happen. Something wonderful is about to happen. Wait and see. Look for it. Watch for it. We are waiting for the baby to be born. Will it happen this week or the next? Or the week after that. The baby is not on our time table. The baby is moving at its own timetable. So we light one candle at a time.

So Advent is the season when I am on the lookout. I have learned in my spiritual walk that every year there is one person, one moment, one great need that becomes my Christmas. When I can focus on that moment or person or project, I relive the true sprit of Christmas.

This year my Christmas event happened long before Thanksgiving, even before Halloween. How annoying!

The Christmas moment arrived before I could visit Nordstrom's.

I almost missed seeing her. But once I saw her I could not take my eyes off her. Oh, I do not know if she was lovely or not. I never saw her face. She was bent over. Her body twisted and contorted. She was crouching on the sidewalk. She was almost hidden from sight by a flower shop full of flowers arranged around a light post. I have seen caskets less decorated.

I could tell her grief was pouring out of her faster than she could breathe. She was staring at the flowers and weeping. She was as stuck in her grief as I was stuck at the red light. She never noticed any of the drivers who noticed her when they were forced to stop at the red light. She was oblivious to all the strangers who witnessed her grief. She was reliving the memories of the person who had been killed at this intersection.

I don't know if she's a friend, a member of the family, or a lover. But someone she passionately loved died at the stoplight. From this day on, this intersection will no longer be a place she travels through. It will always be an ending place. A destination. Traveling through the intersection will be like a journey or pilgrimage to the grave site.

I said a prayer for her. I would like to believe that everyone who stopped at the red light would have shared her grief and said prayer. But I know most probably noticed her, but never saw her. But what I really hoped, and prayed for, and continue to pray for: is that the flowers around the lamppost will not just be an ending place, that the lamppost will not just be an anonymous headstone. I hope she, and the others who were affected by the death, will come to see this place as a entrance point to heaven itself.

I wished the light had stayed red; I wanted to stop and let her know that she was surrounded by the care of those who saw her. But the light changed, my journey continued. But I suspect that if I could have stayed through the next red light, I would have seen she was not alone in her grief. She would have been surrounded by the same angels who sang lullabies to the baby Jesus.

I invite you this Advent season to be on the lookout for that moment, event, or person that will lead you closer to Bethlehem. I know the woman on the street corner will be in my prayers this season. Perhaps you will discover someone that needs your constant prayer. Or maybe you will discover a need you have the skills to fill. Or hear a clarion call for action. Or hear a nudge in the silence. I know the Christ Child is coming again this year. If we are standing on tiptoes, watching, listening, looking, we will find our way to Bethlehem through a ministry to someone in great need.

Blessings,

Pastor Mark

November 2007 Wileyan Wisdom

Unlike many persons I was delighted at the revelations that Mother Teresa had serious doubts about her faith, her work, and her God. The existence of such doubts does make her an even more likely candidate for sainthood. In fact, if she did not have any doubts then I would say that she could not be a saint in the church. (Though the Catholic Church is likely to ask neither my opinion nor my vote.)

The authors, who collected her doubts, her diaries, and her correspondence, suggest Mother Teresa's inner turmoil makes her less of a saint. They expected that this shocking news would dispel something of her moral force and spiritual influence. By making her human they are trying to say she was not as good nor as moral nor as divinely inspired. But I can tell from the brief excerpts I‘ve read that something very different is going on.

The authors do not understand that the closer one gets to God, the more one is aware of his or her own imperfections. The great saints and mystics and moral leaders have left records behind when they went home to God. These “papers” are filled with internal doubts and worries. Usually, there are worries about some aspects of their soul we consider marginal or trivial.

The great saints of the church always had doubts; the biblical record itself is full of great doubters: Moses, Job, Peter, Thomas, Paul. If I read the gospels correctly, even Jesus himself had moments of great doubt. We remember that on the night he was arrested, He wanted out, wanted not to go through with it, and wanted some other road to take to avoid the Cross.

We might expect the opposite, that the closer one gets to God the surer and confined one grows. There are certainly people who at the end of their life are full of confidence and assurance. They can't wait to get home to Jesus. There is great strength and comfort in their faith. These persons are great followers. They have done good works for God. God is well pleased with their journey. But they are not the saints.

Saints are those who combine extreme doubt with extreme faith, and who preservere in faith even as their questions are left unanswered. Saints are never perfect. They are however a little closer to God than the rest of us. They live a life shaped not by the everyday but by a vision that compels them, inspires them, and they never let go of that vision even if that vision is incomprehensible.

The saints are not like us. The saints, Chesterton said, are like the moon. They are closer to God. They see things about God that we cannot see. They live in a world where there is no air, where the light is brighter. They see God better, and through their light we see God- reflected light. We see them even brighter than we can see the sun.

There are those who think that exposing the frailties of saints will invalidate their call. It's as if they believe that if a saint has fatal flaws they can no longer be a saint. Remember when people tried to lower the power and symbol of Martin Luther King, Jr. by naming his sins. But in fact, his brokenness only highlighted his brilliance, his faith, and his message.

I think I understand why there is the need for exposés of the saints. We have a love-hate relationship with the saints. On one hand, we can't live without them. They show us more of God than we can see. They inspire us. We learn how to be good Christians by watching them. On the other hand, they challenge us. Saints point us towards a brighter walk with God; that is higher and brighter and far more dangerously lovely than our own. They confront us with our own self deceptions.

October 2006 Wileyan Wisdom

I broke my mother's heart when I was in 7^th grade. I refused to go church anymore. It was boring. I didn't see any relevance to my life. I certainly did not fit into a youth group either. She was wise enough to let me go my own way, but since she was a lifelong Methodist I know it killed her. By the time I was in college I was an atheist.

Now there are lots of kinds of atheists. Lots of people who say they are atheists aren't real atheists. They are really agnostics. Agnostics are people who haven't figured out the whole God thing yet. They are fence sitters. They don't go to church—that's too much like joining the team. But they pray to God. They hedge their bets. They aren't sure if there is or isn't a God so they try to do just enough “religious” things as possible without a commitment. The second category of atheists is emotional atheists. The church has failed them in some way. Some person of faith has failed them. Maybe the church was abusive or hurtful. Maybe it was hypocritical. Or theologically tacky in such a way as to cause pain, in any event the church has become a barrier to faith, and they can't see God because of the misdeeds of those who bear God's name. Finally, there are the real atheists. These persons have ideological or philosophical objections to God. They are usually people who love ideas and reason, and want things proved.

In college I was a blend of the second and third types. I was a history major. Not only did I know from personal experience that church was boring, but I knew the list of terrible things that had been done in Jesus' name. I can make a very strong case that more harm has been done to humanity in the name of religion than in any other case. Good people have done bad things in the name of religion and with the sanction of the church. I was also a philosophy minor. I knew there were proofs for the existence of God, but that every proof for God's existence had an equally strong counter proof. I can, and still can, argue that God does not exist and is simply a useful convention that helps us get through the days and nights.

I was also Marxist. Oh, I won't say I was Communist. Communists were people who applied the theory of Marx to their own situations. Most Communists were persons who reshaped Marxism to their own political agendas. Communism did not produce Marxism. What I was searching for was an ethical system that was just and absolutely true. I was tired of rules that were made to sound absolute even though they were really just a matter of one's personal opinion blended with political or economic social power. I had figured out that what a person does is shaped by what a person believes. Ethics, the study of dong what is right, is a sub department of philosophy. Learn what is true and then do what is right. Actions were a consequence of patterns of belief. I was a Marxist because it offered the best potential for being fair and just. But I had the same problem with applying Marxism as people had applying Christian theology; when you mix Marxism into real life, the theory gets abused, distorted, and corrupted. Ironically, in my thinking one of the facts that were preventing Marxism from living up to it potential was the prevailing Christian culture combined with capitalist economics.

So I began a study of Christianity. I wanted to learn about it so I could destroy it. I wanted to know what made it tick so that I could disprove it. Know your enemy was my motto. Naturally I never told my mom I was doing this kind of work. This was work meant to be done on one's own. So to learn about Christianity I began reading books by Christians. I quickly discovered that Christianity boils down to one central issue: resurrection of Jesus.

Jesus did not present us a value system. He did not offer us a belief system. He did not declare himself a prophet. He did not present himself as a rabbi. He claims in a hundred different ways to be God's Son. He declared that he was divine. He declared that he was eternal, had always been hanging around with God, and his purpose was to save us all. So what if Jesus offers us pithy parables and cute sayings? So what if he offers good ethical advice—that we are still trying to live out? If he is not divine, then his belief or ethical relevance dies. He becomes either a crackpot or a mentally unstable person. The only proof that matters is whether he was resurrected.

I want Jesus dead. Really dead. Not like the man who was declared dead this week and then woke up during his own autopsy. Yuck. The Bible says he was dead on the cross. Then to make sure, they stabbed him in heart. Then he bled out before they could get him in the cave. Then he laid in the cave for at least 48 hours. He was dead but on the third day the gospels declared he was alive again, better than ever.

The disciples changed as well. Their leader was killed. They were hiding out. They knew they were next for the cross. Yet within days they are challenging the religious authorities. Within days they are making converts and organizing a church. Within 40 years there was a church in every major Roman seaport and trade center. Their message was not that Jesus was a dead hero or a martyred prophet. Their news was that Jesus was alive and he might stop by for coffee, tea or breakfast.

If he was resurrected, then both his teachings and the church and Christianity were valid. If he wasn't raised up, then it's all a lie. Intriguingly, Paul himself makes this same argument in his letter to the Corinthians. Look, he says, it's all or nothing. Either he was raised up and then we will be raised up, too, or it's a bunch of lies and we are victims of cruel deception—either by Jesus or the disciples.

So I figured that if Jesus was raised up, then he is still alive, and it's time to test the theory. I started praying to meet Jesus personally and in a tangible real way. If that didn't happen, then forget about it. Obviously, since I am now your pastor, I met Jesus.

And that's a story for another time. (Shannon told me I am writing an article, not a book!) I share these reflections because I think God loves atheists—every variety. God likes them because they are demanding. God loves them because they have been hurt by the injustice the church has called. God loves them because they require accountability and justice. God loves them because they ask real hard questions. And though they may or may not find their way back to God, God has certainly made room in his heart for them.