Submission to authority I like

Or that looks like me or helps me ‘other’ people I don’t like

This morning's Morning Edition was full of great stuff! As I drove in I was particularly struck by a story about Evangelicals trying to soften hearts on overhauling immigration. (You can read and listen to the story here.) Hearing the reporter mention Romans as why Evangelicals have resisted comprehensive immigration reform stirred memories I’d forgotten. The argument has gone, from a religious perspective, that undocumented immigrants shouldn’t be granted amnesty or given a path to citizenship because they’ve broken the law. They should be punished and believers must submit to authorities. Since these immigrants haven’t submitted, clearly they aren’t Christians.

I wonder, however, why this convenience of submission to authority is called on — by people in then pews, not just at the higher levels — when they like the call to submit to civil authorities, but not when they like it. The passage from Romans the reporter mentions is Romans 13.1, “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God.” (NRSV)

Growing up, the call to render to Caesar was one that was heeded and talked about. We were taught that we had to respect our civil authorities, even if we didn’t like them — which was certainly the case in my Southern Baptist church in Alabama during the Clinton Administration. I have heard, from religious conservatives, the argument about not passing comprehensive immigration reform because it rewards law-breakers, and so they can't support it on religious grounds of the law needing to matter.

Yes, laws need to matter, but where is the law not mattering because people don’t like it, particularly the same people who are willing to speak far too publicly about how their understanding of Christianity should dictate public life. I don’t see those opposed to immigration reform calling on Alabama Governor Robert Bentley to enforce portions of the Affordable Care Act that deal with consumer protection when he’s said he won’t.

For the last few years many Alabamians have rallied behind Chief Justice Roy Moore precisely because he wouldn’t submit to authority and was removed from office for it. He has his job back and hasn’t seemed to try to create any major actions, but my recollection of 2003 was that those who identified most with Chief Justice Moore as the true Christians were the ones who supported him the most — because they saw him standing up for what he believes in.

Standing up for what one believes in is a good thing. I support civil disobedience when it’s well thought out and not just doing what whatever you want, but working for an issue of justice. My problem with the “I’m just standing up for what I believe in,” argument is when it really hurts and impinges on others. Using a perceived non-submission to authorities by undocumented immigrants while tolerating elected officials of your own faith tradition’s non-submission to authorities is inconsistent.

I’m glad that some leaders in Evangelical circles are working for immigration reform and trying to tell their stories about how and why. I guess I don’t really understand how it’s taken this long, although I find the spokesperson from the Evangelical Free Church in the NPR article telling: people want to know how to get Hispanic votes, so now it’s a good thing to support immigration reform. I don’t think this is about seeing people as people who are different. Romans 13 has been used for othering in this conversation — “It's okay for Roy Moore because I like him, but it’s not okay for immigrants because I don’t like them and they’re different than I am.”

I grew up in the midst of the Evangelical culture and mindset. I am struggling as an adult to hear how the need for submission to authority in Romans related to a fear for amnesty for undocumented immigrants when grace is something that can be preached on ad naseum in these churches, as well it should be. Sermon series on the Lord’s Prayer have to deal with “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us,” but that can’t seem to carry over to people who entered the country illegally (and there’s never any conversation about why or what might be wrong with the system).

Why is it okay to tolerate Roy Moore’s breaking the law (and even support) when Romans 13.1 is your foundation for rejecting comprehensive immigration reform from a faith perspective? If you're going to claim Biblical literalism for immigration, abortion (as related to portions of the Affordable Care Act), and LGBT (in)equality, you have to have a higher standard for your own leaders. It’s not okay to make the people you don’t like live by a standard you won’t hold people you do like to — particularly when you’re trying to force a great many of your standards on a whole lot of people not like you.

That Open Letter to the Church from My Generation

My Facebook feed the last two days has been filled with postings of An Open Letter to the Church from My Generation. The supposed money quotes are

I’m writing this because I’m worried about the safety of the Church. The Church keeps scratching its head, wondering why 70% of 23-30 year-olds who were brought up in church leave. I’m going to offer a pretty candid answer, and it’s going to make some people upset, but I care about the Church too much to be quiet.

and

So, my advice to you, the Church: if you’re looking for some intelligent biblical liberal opinions on the subject, have a little coffee chat with your local Methodist or Episcopal pastor. Christians can be all about gay people, it’s possible. People do it every day with a clear biblical conscience. Find out if you think there’s truth in that view before you sweep us under the rug. 

This author self-identifies as a "A College Kid Who Misses [the Church]." I actually really don't like this letter at all and don't like how much it's been shared. I am making the assumption that it makes some big assumptions as it uses a plural pronoun to cover 23-30 year-olds. I'm in that category. In some ways I am certainly an outlier: I am a priest at 26 which is not the typical 23-30 year old, and the author makes some assumptions about me based on my age. Making assumptions about people based on similar demographics to our own and is just as dangerous as making assumptions about people based on demographics different from our own.

I am glad this author found truth in Macklemore's song, but I fear that her blog has a tone of "If the church would just get on board with the gays everyone would come back." [Edit: It's not just a tone, it's explicit, "But my generation...will not stick around to see the church fight gay marriage against our better judgment," and "We want to stay in your churches, we want to hear about your Jesus, but it’s hard to hear about love from a God who doesn’t love our gay friends (and we all have gay friends)."]

My favorite line, rather than the ones I've seen quoted is "I’m saying this: we cannot keep pitting the church against humanity, or progress." That's true. More of what I've encountered about people my age who are interested (or disaffiliated) from the church is that there isn't much about Jesus from the Right or Left but a lot of hot button political/social issues.

I am glad that this experience of truth in song rang true for her in her Midwestern town where there are churches that preach only hate or things the author doesn't like. I am from the rural south and know all too well messages of queer exclusion and feminine submission. I am frustrated as mainline protestants (many of whom are clergy) who share this letter highlight this author's encouragement to have coffee with mainline protestants. I am frustrated at this author's candid answer that we're scared of change.

Yeah, sure we are, but there are a lot of real studies about formation and discipling as followers of Jesus that affect people's attendance rates. I find these ten reasons (link) more compelling based on my own experience. As I encounter people my age who are really willing to commit to a faith tradition they are looking for authentic expressions of that faith tradition. The author says we can smell fake a mile away. A sudden shift about teh gai is going to look really fake the same way politicians' all suddenly, as Chief Justice Roberts put it, falling all over themselves to endorse marriage equality. A friend of friend said, "I almost respect Muslim and Catholics the most because at least they go big and stay nuts." I don't agree with that assessment, but this person isn't religiously affiliated and has some hints at how those religious traditions are seeing their own authenticity.

An authentic expression of Christianity is that things take time. Sometimes more than they should, but sometimes not as much. We look beyond ourselves to the larger and we look to our future. I don't fear for the Church, though. I trust in grace and the guidance of the Spirit. Mainline Protestantism has been on a journey about dealing with queer people for a while, and not every branch of it is on the same page. The remaining denominations not onboard have been struggling for decades like those who do endorse marriage equality.

I am a gay man and my faith was the biggest impediment to my coming out to myself, to my family, my friends, and my faith community. Others' interpretation of my faith was an impediment for years after many of those coming outs. The author signs the blog entry "A College Kid Who Misses You" while also encouraging talking to United Methodist and Episcopal clergy, which is exactly what I did. Rather than leaving the church though, I left the church of my past, and in so doing I learned a lot more about Jesus than I had before. I started encountering parables that I didn't remember and words of Jesus that felt fresh and new. I left the church of my past and discerned a vocation to ordained ministry in another church.

I never missed the Church. I sometimes miss the people I grew up with, but I think it's anachronistic to say that one is scared for the Church's decline while also identifying with the statistic of 23-30 year-old's who've left the Church (compared to leave the church of one's past). Being fearful for the church (which I don't think is necessary) I think necessitates a staying in it and speaking to it. I feel like a curmudgeon as I say all this, but saying you miss the church reads to me like you've left it and are armchair quarterbacking to speaking to it on your blog rather than making or maintaining relationships with church people.

So, no, this isn't a letter from my generation. It's well-written and has some good sentiments, but I think needs some more depth to it to get the kind of sharing it's gotten. I continue to pray for the church to be discerning and to be focused on the message and person of Jesus — which doesn't exclude social concerns, but must be the starting point rather than an after thought for how we engage with society.

JpM

Church of the Locked Door: A [Mainline Protestant] Congregation

A few years ago someone preached a sermon on 2 Easter that didn't focus on doubt. I don't remember what he did preach on, maybe he did talk about doubt, but it's not the part of the sermon that's stuck with me. Rather, what stuck with me was his poking fun at his denomination in a few ways. He said that the disciples' gathering on Easter night could have been a "new" congregation in his ecclesiastical body. First, the name: [Generic Church Word Name]: A [Name of Denomination] Congregation. Second, what they're doing: hiding out for fear of authorities, not believing the Good News of Resurrection they've been told and that Jesus had foretold.

While sermons on doubt are good to hear from time to time, I think every year is too time to time enough. I'm seeing a lot on Facebook about doubt sermons. Facebook is a snippet and not representative, I know. While preaching about doubt where is the preaching about resurrection? How the preacher has experienced resurrection in the midst of doubt.

Today's sermon at the parish where I serve talked about how so many professional resources focus on crucifixion of the Church (i.e. its death) and not on resurrection. There's new life, and declines are slowly turning around certainly. Even so, there are some fearing that it won't happen and doubting that we can have new life at the parish, denominational, or religious level. The sermon continued with stories of new life from around the country and an emphasis on the power of the Spirit to stir new life.

I, however, was hung up on the first part of today's gospel text. The Church of the Locked door. I think I was stuck there because last week I went to the Episcopal Communicators conference and I had an amazing time. I had no idea that I'd be with such a group of people committed to church communication and Good News (not the right wing UMC group, either) communication. While Mary, Simon, and John have been to the tomb and Mary has spoken with the Risen Christ, the fledgling church doesn't believe the Good News.

They haven't had an experience of resurrection that they're dying to tell other people. They're scared for their lives and Jesus shows up. They believe and then Thomas doesn't until he does as well. Being with the Episcopal Communicators raised the importance for me of communicators helping others tell their stories. We, are not living in fear of authorities, and I hope that we have experiences of resurrection to tell other people.

My biggest take away from the conference was setting some goals for the Diocese of California's communications, but one of them is going to be about teaching people to tell their story — and to use language about how Jesus dying and rising again means something to them and how they experience resurrection regularly. If they don't I want to help them listen for it to live it.

What experiences do you have of resurrection? Who do you tell about it and how? Preachers from today, how did resurrection fit in to your sermons on doubt or anything else today? Christ is risen! Tell me about it.

Why Context Matters

Last Tuesday night one of the eucharistic readings was from Tobit. That link will take you to the exact passage. All I had to say was, “What the flock?” I couldn't even put a manuscript together because it was so weird. Here's the sermon I preached to an EFM group on this text and the beginning of Hebrews 2. You can download an MP3 file by clicking here.

Letter to Lauderdale County Superintendent and Board of Education

I mailed the following on 6 or 7 February and wanted to give it time to arrive before I shared it. Some, but very little has changed since I sent mailed it. This was written in response to this news story. When I posted that on Facebook I said that I would post it to my blog. Here it is....

6 February 2013

The Superintendent and Board of Education

Lauderdale County Schools

PO Box 278

Florence, AL 35631

Dear Ms. Gray,

I meant to write over the weekend, but did not find the time. I was happy to see that Coach Grisham has been suspended for ten days but disappointed he will be returning to the classroom (though not teaching psychology). I was not happy to see his suspension from a place of revenge or retribution but that the board took some action in response to his recent remarks concerning First Lady Obama and lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT), remarks that hurt LGBT teens, Americans especially if they are yet out.

Although in high school (Central High School, Phenix City, ’05) I never had the misfortune of hearing a teacher speak like this, my teachers tolerated classmates referring disparagingly, including the use of slurs such as “queers” and “faggots”, about LGBT people. These statements from peers, let alone teachers, are what lead LGBT high schoolers to take their own lives.

While I was in college at Troy (BA History, ‘09), then-Governor Riley said that it was important for Alabama’s top students and achievers to stay in Alabama and work to improve the state. Having attended HOBY, Alabama Governor’s School, and won on the state level in the Future Problem Solving Program and National History Day in Alabama, as well as being on a tuition, room, and board scholarship at Troy, I likely fell into this category.

I thought that perhaps I could return to Alabama and serve as a priest after my master’s work in New York, but any return I now make to Alabama will be to visit my family in Abbeville or explore the rich Civil Rights history with my future children. Although he couldn’t go in, Moses looked from the mountaintop and saw the Promised Land. Joshua led the Hebrew people to a place where they could live as God had called them to live.

I lived in New York City for three years and will marry my fiancé (another man) there in May. I live now in little fear that I will be physically assaulted or verbally harassed for my sexuality and expressing it publically the same way my heterosexual peers do (something as small as holding hands). While the legal landscape in California is not perfect, my safety is not at stake. I have been able to build a diverse community of people who, whether they are gay or not, are willing to be in relationship with me and work for a better world with me. We don’t have to be just like one another to get along. This is difficult in a culture where vilifying difference is accepted, though.

Your welcome to the school system’s website says, “Our schools are committed to excellence as we educate Alabama's future leaders and workers.” An environment where statements like Coach Grisham’s don’t go unpunished, but can be still said at all, sends the message to LGBT students that they are not welcome. Coach Grisham’s saying that they are an abomination in class says that they are less than people. Hoping for them to stay in Alabama as future leaders is like asking Moses and the Hebrews to stay in bondage to Pharaoh.

Everyone is welcome to his or her own religious beliefs, though not everyone has been trained in sharing those publicly. Teachers are trained and hired to teach from approved textbooks, not the sacred texts of any religious tradition, in areas of which they have been trained. A classroom and lectern are not a church building and pulpit from which teachers can share their religious convictions. When this happens, there is usually only one side presented and no invitation for a different voice, even if that voice has no professional training in religion. This sharing is inappropriate not just for sexual minorities to hear, but also religious minorities whether they are less common Christian denominations (such as Episcopalian and Roman Catholic) or non-Christians at all (Jews, Jains, etc.).

Saying that someone is wrong simply because you say they are is not educated or educating. For a psychology teacher to say this in a classroom when the American Psychological Association removed homosexuality from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual forty years ago — even if removed from that class after the fact — does not show a commitment to excellence.

Not everyone must have the same convictions for work to be done and relationships to be maintained; my mother and I do not have the same understanding of the morality of my relationship, but she will be at my wedding and has come to visit my fiancé and I in California. We vote and write our congresspeople in very different ways but listen to and ask questions of one another rather than insisting that the other is wrong.

Coach Grisham said that he was speaking in a debate context, but his prefacing his statements about LGBT people by saying he didn’t care if people told the superintendent suggests this was not a debate context based around critical thinking and educated argumentation. Furthermore, the privileged position of the teacher, both in a classroom setting and a cultural setting of deferring to those in authority, may inhibit students’ comfort dissenting even if they do. I know I would not have felt comfortable responding to Coach Grisham as a gay student.

I am thankful that the board has responded to Coach Grisham’s statements and that he will be required to attend what seems to be intensive sensitivity training. I hope that it is effective and helpful, but I worry for students of Coach Grisham or other teachers who make these kinds of remarks. Having been a closeted gay student in an Alabama high school, I know the difficulties that come without teachers reinforcing the negative thoughts I had about myself.

I had a safe place in my high school, and I continue to be thankful for that. The board’s action demonstrates to some extent that it is committed to providing a safe place for all its students. While some have suggested that this incident has been blown out of proportion, the high number of suicides of LGBT teens in the last three years suggests that this is not the case. Words matter, and teachers’ using their positions of authority to tear students down is especially damaging. Continuing to give them a space to do that suggests that students may not have top priority.

Your website welcome invites comments and suggestions to provide the highest quality education for the children in Lauderdale County, and I have one. Lauderdale County schools have made national news over Coach Grisham’s statements. Providing the highest quality education would include inviting someone to speak about being gay and Christian or gay and a person of any faith — a dissenting view from what has been heard and reheard around the country. Offering this in a volunteer setting, or coordinating with an out-of-house group (such as Equality Alabama) would prevent religious objections. It may not be popular, but it would offer a diversity of opinion with which Alabama’s future leaders and workers need a familiarity.

Coach Grisham said that the country is going in the wrong direction, and in many ways I agree with that like the students did. Rather than saying that one side or another has all the answers, though, I think listening to others’ stories should be encouraged. Having a gay Christian speaker offer his or her stories of hurt, healing, death, and resurrection may bring new light of experience — with no intention of changing anyone’s mind. Coach Grisham is right that change needs to happen, but it’s one of more listening with open hearts and ears and less talking from platforms of certainty, dealing with people and not vague ideas.

Along those lines, thank you for your time reading my letter. It got to be more than twice as long as I’d originally planned. I look forward to hearing from you, as well, hearing with an open heart and ears about how you think these situations can be prevented in Lauderdale County Schools and in all of Alabama and how you received what I’ve said.

In peace,

(The Rev.) Joseph P. Mathews

Priest, Episcopal Diocese of California

CC: Dr. Thomas R. Bice, State Superintendent of Education

Ritual, Religion, and Relationship

Last week I posted a link on Facebook to the article “The Truth About Salvation”.  I excerpted the end:

“Shouldn’t it alarm us that such simplistic pathways to Christianity are nowhere to be found in God’s Word? Shouldn’t we who follow Christ be concerned that the Scriptures contain no references to people asking Jesus into their hearts or reciting a prayer of salvation?...It’s a lie. With good intentions and a sincere desire to reach as many people as possible for Christ, we’ve subtly and deceptively minimized the magnitude of what it means to follow Jesus.” 

I concluded by saying that sounded like Mainline talk (or talk that I’ve heard from Mainliners) from an Evangelical. Someone commented on my post and said, “It's a horrible lie...that one only need to walk an aisle and quietly repeat a prayer. And it is a horrible lie that the rituals of any religion will bring salvation, too. Relationship not ritual!”

I think it would be a horrible lie that the rituals of any religion will bring salvation if I had ever heard someone say that; I just haven’t. Growing up I heard similar things about more liturgical traditions, “They think that if they just go to Mass they’ll get to heaven.” Not quite. It’s a lot more nuanced than that because the approach is different. Rather than being about praying a prayer, there is an understanding that grace is conveyed not through rituals, but through materials. Grace and salvation don’t come from what we do (receiving communion, being baptized), but what God does in the bread and wine, in the washing water, in the healing oil So much are these actions about God and not us, that the Church long ago decided that the state of grace of the person doesn’t matter for them to be efficacious. (For those who say otherwise, see donatism).

I whole-heartedly reject the notion that relationship is not ritual. Ritual is an invitation to or expectation of relationship as the Body of Christ does something as one. Baptism gives people with five senses a way to engage their senses as they make promises to Christ and are brought into a community. When asked, “Will you do these things that we’re all trying to do?” the baptizand replies, “I will, with God’s help.” In that moment we have a relationship with Christ. Like all other relationships it takes work, but we are marked as Christ’s own forever. When we come to the table of grace we are continually joined to Christ as Christ continues to take up residence in us. The practice of it may be different than some others’, but God is active, even if we don’t always understand how.

These moments of relationship bring us to salvation. For a long, long time the Church (for the most part) has believed that grace is conveyed in these acts. The Nicene Creed explicitly says, “We believe in one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.” That statement is inherently relational because it’s what we believe. It was put into the Nicene Creed in A.D. 381. Rather than being “just a symbol,” the Church believes that something happens. Because something happens from God and not from us, we only have to do it once at that.

There are a lot of things that seem like equating relationship and ritual, but those are often from a place of a very narrow definition of what a ritual is. Disciples are also rituals, from keeping a prayer journal to having a daily quiet time. Doing it over and over again is a ritual that is used to build relationship. I have been critical of the “Praying that prayer” model because although there is an expectation of relationship, there isn’t necessary follow-up — and often the statement that it’s okay. You prayed that prayer and that’s all you’ve got to do.

For this very reason I’m critical of drive through baptisms, where the parents have no intention of bringing their child back and are not in relationship with the community. The difference in my mind, though, is that God is active either way. When done well both models have safeguards built in, but the one I prefer is one that is about God’s action and then the community promising to be a part of the ongoing life of the newly baptized. Because it’s the Spirit present in the water, though, it sticks.

“Asking Jesus into one’s heart” is arguable a ritual in and of itself, and that’s not a bad thing. Letting that be the stopping point (which Platt is arguing against in his work) is what bothers me — but that’s not the ideal. What also bothers me, though is an outright rejection of ritual based on one’s preference (which, in my experience, often comes from lack of exposure over time, so hard to understand) rather than wondering how someone else’s practices may be formative for them.

How might we wonder with others about their practices? Through asking questions rather than making assumptions based on our outsiders’ perceptions. Through asking ourselves how our practices are formative for us and inviting others into them with us. How else?

So do you have a job yet?

This morning I celebrated reading a post on Facebook made by an electronic acquaintance who is in seminary at a school other than my alma mater. I am excited that he has been called to serve the Church in a local parish and that he knows so early in the calendar year. From my thoughts of him my mind wandered to wondering how a dear friend of mine’s job hunt is going. I know that she is extremely capable, but I know she is looking for some particular things geographically and in ministry. She and I are in touch somewhat regularly. She has not mentioned her most recent job prospects in a few weeks, though she will make an excellent priest.

I will not be asking her how it’s going.

She is one of my dearest friends, and I at least tell myself that it’s mutual. She will be reading in my wedding, but I remember all too well the anxiety of last February, March, April, May, June, and July as I had not yet been called to serve somewhere. One of the things that made those months so difficult was that not only am I pretty highly-functioning, but others know it. Because of this far too often people asked, “So do you have a job yet?”

Dear reader (all three of you), this was not helpful. While it may have meant to be encouraging it was received with the expectation that I should already have a job, and yet I did not.

Those closest to me knew all the stress I was feeling and facing, the tears being shed, the sleep being interrupted, the flare-ups and outbursts of anger or sadness, and the anxiety every time my bishop called. Those from whom I needed (and wanted) the most support were well-aware of the situation and updated regularly on group emails about my prospects and texts about let downs.

The GOE has been taken. Candidacy papers are starting to be due, I’m sure. Graduation looms in mid-May for not just seminarians but those in many fields. What I enjoyed much more than a regular barrage of “So do you have a job yet?” was when I could announce good news — making a cut on a process, getting an interview — and people celebrating with me. Alternatively, I appreciated those who mourned with me when I made disappointments public.

In the next few months, whether you’re through the a discernment and education process or finishing up one yourself, don’t ask if people have gotten jobs yet. If you have not been getting updates from them regularly, it does not come across as concern (at least didn’t to me) inasmuch as additional pressure. There’s probably a reason you're having to ask.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep, and trust people to share their good news for rejoicing and their bad news for weeping on their timeline.