The exciting news in our family lately is that Derek is just starting to put words together and becoming able to read. He's known his letters for years but the concept that letter sounds come together to make actual words has come more slowly. Through his work in pre-school and some encouragement at home he's getting it now. It's fun to watch recognition cross his face and to see him smile as he reads a word. Even if he'd rather be out riding a tractor tossing a ball, he still finds plenty of joy in that moment of discovery.
Our faith should be exactly like that. Have you ever had the experience of knowing a Bible passage or religious concept for years and then suddenly one day getting it? It's an amazing thing! One of the great joys about participating in this church community over the last few years has been the sheer number of "Aha!" moments for all of us, myself included. I'm pretty sure God put faith into the equation so we'd have a lifetime of joy as we discovered new things about him and our relationship to the world.
Sometimes people trade in the joy of discovery for certainty of knowledge. Often we walk through our faith lives thinking that we already know everything that's important. Faith becomes a matter of defending what you have/believe instead of exploring where God is leading you. That's sad. The cost of "knowing" is way too high. It cheats you out of growth and those transcendent moments. It separates you from your neighbor (who probably doesn't think like you) instead of uniting you in a faith journey together. It cheats your neighbor of importance, even. After all, why do you need to listen to anything they say if you already know everything? That's also true of your relationship with God. Who cares if he shows up? If he says something different than we already think we'll just claim he's not God anyway.
Don't cheat yourself out of the opportunity to discover something new just because you want to be comfortable possessing what you already have. It's a bad bargain for churches and individuals both. Find a 5-year-old and watch their face as they figure out something for the first time. It's an irreplaceable experience at any age...God's gift to all of us.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Friday, May 31, 2013
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Major Event Upcoming
Part of the reason my writing has been sparse in the last couple weeks is that I've been working with some colleagues on a fairly major project. Folks are still dotting I's and crossing T's so I don't want to give a full-blown announcement right now, but it's important for us to start considering this before everybody heads to summer vacation and loses track of how quickly fall will descend upon us.
There's a very good chance--read: almost a certainty--that we're going to be welcoming a few hundred new friends to worship in Genesee on Sunday, September 15th. The hows and whys I'll leave for later, but we need to start thinking about the logistics of that kind of operation. It's going to be a big, big deal...worship, fellowship, food, the works!
People will bring stuff with, so it's not up to us to supply everything. But we need to plan ahead for hosting that many people in an unforgettable day. If you know things we'll have to think about--tables and chairs for one, but there are more--let me know. If you have brilliant solutions, so much the better!
This is exciting. Maybe the most exciting thing that will have happened to our church (and many other people) in a long time. And it's only the beginning. As Jennifer Parkins sings from time to time: People, Get Ready!
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
There's a very good chance--read: almost a certainty--that we're going to be welcoming a few hundred new friends to worship in Genesee on Sunday, September 15th. The hows and whys I'll leave for later, but we need to start thinking about the logistics of that kind of operation. It's going to be a big, big deal...worship, fellowship, food, the works!
People will bring stuff with, so it's not up to us to supply everything. But we need to plan ahead for hosting that many people in an unforgettable day. If you know things we'll have to think about--tables and chairs for one, but there are more--let me know. If you have brilliant solutions, so much the better!
This is exciting. Maybe the most exciting thing that will have happened to our church (and many other people) in a long time. And it's only the beginning. As Jennifer Parkins sings from time to time: People, Get Ready!
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Doing What is Best
As I'm running around trying to get all my "stuff done" today I'm reminded of this passage from Luke, Chapter 10:
The moral of this story isn't that sitting around is better than running around. Rather it's a matter of priority: what comes first.
Most of us define our lives--or let our lives get defined for us--by the series of tasks we have to do today. "Have" should be in quotes there. For most of us the true "haves" accumulate their own set of sub-tasks which themselves carry further assumptions about more things we "have" to do. We start out with one or two "have to's" which leads logically to three more. If we're going to be good at those we also need to do X, Y, and Z. Each of those has six more parts to them. Voila! Our schedule is filled for the next six months and really we only set out to do a couple of things!
The whole system mushes together, developing a gravity from which we find it difficult to escape. The bigger and more important that system feels, the more gravity it attains and the more "important" it seems. In turn we feel more important for being a part of such a big and weighty system. That's how we draw our identity, defining ourselves by being enslaved to a huge, important set of things.
Can you picture Martha here? "Jesus is here at MY house! What a big deal this is! Think how much this says about me and my home, my identity, the importance of my work! Ohmygosh I must dust and sweep and prepare a meal and wash and iron and..."
If we're people of faith we'll also let God into our busy lives. Perhaps we'll find a few minutes for a prayer or devotion. Or we'll just pray, "God be with me today!" Both are good impulses but neither are sufficient. The first is like Martha saying, "Whew! OK, I'm going to spend a couple minutes with you Jesus before I get back to work!" The second reads, "Hey Jesus, why don't you grab a broom and help me here?"
There's nothing wrong with Martha's work. Jesus isn't praising Mary because she's not working, nor suggesting that sitting is superior. Jesus is reminding us of our priorities. Namely, "How do you know what you're supposed to be doing today if you haven't asked God about it first?"
We assume the "have to's" in our lives as givens, God time as a special luxury. Our daily tasks are the broccoli and nutritionally-balanced wheat bread that sustain us while our devotions and prayers are like a little chocolate delight at the end of the day. That's backwards. God is our sustenance and life. The fact that we also get to do occasionally-important things in his name is our treat and delight.
Mary's not going to sit at that couch forever. She's listening to God so she knows what's truly important, letting his word guide her tasks rather than letting her tasks overwhelm his word. Martha's doing all the things she assumes are important and hoping God will agree and follow.
You don't have to dig very far into our church, our family relationships, or our professional life before you find Martha-like assumptions guiding us. In all three venues we define success by tasks completed, often forgetting the relationships those tasks are meant to serve.
I was at the store the other day when an employee all but shoved me aside to get their cart full of stuff past and unloaded. Their "important task" was stocking the shelves. That the shelves were there for the sake of the customer rather than the customer for the sake of the shelves escaped them.
If Careen and I get Derek off to school on time, get decent food in the stomach of our kids, and manage to keep them from damaging themselves or each other then we usually define our day as "successful". Those tasks take plenty of time and energy, but are they at the heart of our definition as parents or the relationship we're supposed to have with our children? I can't count the number of times I've asked Derek to clean his room and then realized that I haven't spent any time playing with him and helping him make that mess on the floor. Am I really a good parent because his task is done, because the floor is clean?
Church gets defined by tasks more than any other institution I know. It's simple and keeps unpleasant things like reflection, change, transformation, and conflict at bay. A "good church" has services on time, does worship well, gets enough people to fill in support tasks like cleaning or setting up for services, and never bothers you otherwise. It's easy, sanitary, and we don't even have to think in order to make it work.
You can see Martha's footprints in all these examples. The truth is, nobody had to do any of these things, at least not in the manner and time in which they were done. The "have to's" didn't lead us into importance, they led us away from what was important.
It's so easy to become the busy one, getting stuff done. The immediate rewards are tangible but then end up thinner and cheaper than the rewards gained from letting our tasks be guided by God first. Every task has a follow up. Martha will never be done with her work. The floor will need to be swept again tomorrow. That's how the gravity takes hold and the system perpetuates itself. You never get to be satisfied; you never get to be whole and at peace. But Mary...what she has will never be taken away from her. Peace, wholeness, guidance, and importance are given to her first and then she goes out to pursue the tasks of her day. That makes all the difference in the world.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
38 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39 She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. 40 But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”
41 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”Here we have the story of two sisters. Martha spent all her time in Jesus' presence bustling and preparing the house. Mary spent her time at Jesus' feet, listening. When Martha objects--getting a wee bit passive-aggressive and needling her sister to get her rear in gear and help--Jesus affirms Mary's contemplation over Martha's hurry.
The moral of this story isn't that sitting around is better than running around. Rather it's a matter of priority: what comes first.
Most of us define our lives--or let our lives get defined for us--by the series of tasks we have to do today. "Have" should be in quotes there. For most of us the true "haves" accumulate their own set of sub-tasks which themselves carry further assumptions about more things we "have" to do. We start out with one or two "have to's" which leads logically to three more. If we're going to be good at those we also need to do X, Y, and Z. Each of those has six more parts to them. Voila! Our schedule is filled for the next six months and really we only set out to do a couple of things!
The whole system mushes together, developing a gravity from which we find it difficult to escape. The bigger and more important that system feels, the more gravity it attains and the more "important" it seems. In turn we feel more important for being a part of such a big and weighty system. That's how we draw our identity, defining ourselves by being enslaved to a huge, important set of things.
Can you picture Martha here? "Jesus is here at MY house! What a big deal this is! Think how much this says about me and my home, my identity, the importance of my work! Ohmygosh I must dust and sweep and prepare a meal and wash and iron and..."
If we're people of faith we'll also let God into our busy lives. Perhaps we'll find a few minutes for a prayer or devotion. Or we'll just pray, "God be with me today!" Both are good impulses but neither are sufficient. The first is like Martha saying, "Whew! OK, I'm going to spend a couple minutes with you Jesus before I get back to work!" The second reads, "Hey Jesus, why don't you grab a broom and help me here?"
There's nothing wrong with Martha's work. Jesus isn't praising Mary because she's not working, nor suggesting that sitting is superior. Jesus is reminding us of our priorities. Namely, "How do you know what you're supposed to be doing today if you haven't asked God about it first?"
We assume the "have to's" in our lives as givens, God time as a special luxury. Our daily tasks are the broccoli and nutritionally-balanced wheat bread that sustain us while our devotions and prayers are like a little chocolate delight at the end of the day. That's backwards. God is our sustenance and life. The fact that we also get to do occasionally-important things in his name is our treat and delight.
Mary's not going to sit at that couch forever. She's listening to God so she knows what's truly important, letting his word guide her tasks rather than letting her tasks overwhelm his word. Martha's doing all the things she assumes are important and hoping God will agree and follow.
You don't have to dig very far into our church, our family relationships, or our professional life before you find Martha-like assumptions guiding us. In all three venues we define success by tasks completed, often forgetting the relationships those tasks are meant to serve.
I was at the store the other day when an employee all but shoved me aside to get their cart full of stuff past and unloaded. Their "important task" was stocking the shelves. That the shelves were there for the sake of the customer rather than the customer for the sake of the shelves escaped them.
If Careen and I get Derek off to school on time, get decent food in the stomach of our kids, and manage to keep them from damaging themselves or each other then we usually define our day as "successful". Those tasks take plenty of time and energy, but are they at the heart of our definition as parents or the relationship we're supposed to have with our children? I can't count the number of times I've asked Derek to clean his room and then realized that I haven't spent any time playing with him and helping him make that mess on the floor. Am I really a good parent because his task is done, because the floor is clean?
Church gets defined by tasks more than any other institution I know. It's simple and keeps unpleasant things like reflection, change, transformation, and conflict at bay. A "good church" has services on time, does worship well, gets enough people to fill in support tasks like cleaning or setting up for services, and never bothers you otherwise. It's easy, sanitary, and we don't even have to think in order to make it work.
You can see Martha's footprints in all these examples. The truth is, nobody had to do any of these things, at least not in the manner and time in which they were done. The "have to's" didn't lead us into importance, they led us away from what was important.
It's so easy to become the busy one, getting stuff done. The immediate rewards are tangible but then end up thinner and cheaper than the rewards gained from letting our tasks be guided by God first. Every task has a follow up. Martha will never be done with her work. The floor will need to be swept again tomorrow. That's how the gravity takes hold and the system perpetuates itself. You never get to be satisfied; you never get to be whole and at peace. But Mary...what she has will never be taken away from her. Peace, wholeness, guidance, and importance are given to her first and then she goes out to pursue the tasks of her day. That makes all the difference in the world.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
How the Spirit Moves Us
We had a great time in church last Sunday, the festival of Pentecost. We celebrated the Holy Spirit coming to Jesus' disciples by tossing out bulletins, asking the music and worship people to contribute whatever way the Spirit moved them, and doing some of our favorite parts of our worship service while stopping to remember the inspiration behind each. It was a nice day.
We want to continue discussing the Spirit throughout the summer. I don't feel like I can do this alone, so I'm going to ask you to help. Each Sunday I'd like to take a couple minutes for people to share how they saw the Spirit working in the past week. Maybe the sermon gives you a new way to look at God's work among us, you look for it during the week, and share what you saw on Sunday.
We're not talking about huge, life-changing testimonials here. We'd schedule those too if somebody wants to share, but this process is simpler and more inclusive. All you have to do is watch for the Spirit in your week and tell us what you saw!
Nobody has to do this every Sunday. Hopefully different people will have neat stories each week. Start watching now so you can get ahead of the game!
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
We want to continue discussing the Spirit throughout the summer. I don't feel like I can do this alone, so I'm going to ask you to help. Each Sunday I'd like to take a couple minutes for people to share how they saw the Spirit working in the past week. Maybe the sermon gives you a new way to look at God's work among us, you look for it during the week, and share what you saw on Sunday.
We're not talking about huge, life-changing testimonials here. We'd schedule those too if somebody wants to share, but this process is simpler and more inclusive. All you have to do is watch for the Spirit in your week and tell us what you saw!
Nobody has to do this every Sunday. Hopefully different people will have neat stories each week. Start watching now so you can get ahead of the game!
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Monday, May 20, 2013
Music Night is Taking a Break
The weekly Tuesday Music Night is taking a break during the summer. Stay tuned to the church blog for news on when we resume Music Night.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Bible Study Reflections: Healing on the Sabbath
We finished our year of Women's Bible Study with a strong May, looking at some of the words and actions of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew. Among the passages we studied this week: Matthew 12: 9-14.
Then here comes Jesus, who meets a man with a shriveled hand on the Sabbath. The Pharisees, not his biggest fans anyway, think they have him dead to rights. They've heard he's a healer. They ask what he's going to do about this man. If Jesus refuses to help him then Jesus seems small and petty, his power taken away. But if Jesus does help him then Jesus has broken God's Law about working on the Sabbath and therefore reveals himself as unfaithful.
You can almost hear the Pharisees gloating about the dilemma Jesus is in. Except there was no dilemma. Jesus healed the man. End of story. In doing so he invited the people around him to examine not just the letter of the Law, but its purpose.
The Pharisees were using God's Law like a rulebook by which they kept score. The Law was its own purpose, existing for its own sake, defining who was right and wrong. By its strictest letter they behaved right and other people behaved wrong, which is why they liked it.
Jesus gave us a different definition. The Law doesn't exist to separate right people from wrong people. The Law defines compassion and pushes us towards it. It's there so we know how to be kind and good to each other. If we're not showing compassion we're voiding the Law instead of fulfilling it. When Jesus saw the man with the withered hand, he healed it and thus fulfilled the Law. This was true even when the healing happened on the Sabbath, the day of holiness.
The Pharisees had the rulebook memorized but didn't act compassionately, so they broke the Law even when they appeared to fulfill it. Jesus acted compassionately so he fulfilled the Law even when he appeared to break it.
It's easy to flip back to Leviticus, pull out three verses of Law, and say, "This is what God says and I'm right and you're wrong and God's on my side and not on the side of those people who break this law! God's word say it right there!!!" That's cheap, immature, thoughtless, and gravely mistaken theology. Even calling it "theology" is probably a mistake because that word means "study of God" and there's neither study nor much God in that process. It's all about being right, preserving your prerogatives, justifying your judgments. The Law doesn't justify any of us. It shows us where we've fallen short that we might learn to treat each other better. Using it to treat each other worse is the height of irony.
Jesus didn't do this. He didn't treat the Law that way nor did he treat his friends and neighbors that way. Jesus showed the compassion that the Law is supposed to lead us to: healing the sick, feeding the hungry, sticking up for the poor and oppressed and condemned...especially those oppressed and condemned in the name of God's Law.
Unless you're Jewish, the only way you have access to the Law in the first place is through Christ. If it wasn't for Jesus bringing you into God's family you'd just be another non-Jewish person to whom the Law was not given. He makes the Law part of your heritage. He's the only reason you can call the God of the Law your God as well. Therefore the only way we, as Christians, are allowed to interpret the Law is as Christ did...as compassionate healers instead of self-righteous judges.
Every time you're faced with a legal/moral matter and you're tempted to say, "But God said..." you should stop, re-read this passage, and then ask yourself if you're trying to follow the letter of the Law into judgment or whether you're following its Spirit into compassion. Not everything is lawful. Not all things are good. But condemnation and an air of righteousness are not faithful responses to sin. The only truly lawful, truly faithful response to sin is to do as Jesus did, filling the space in question with God's love, compassion, and healing.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
9 Going on from that place, he went into their synagogue, 10 and a man with a shriveled hand was there. Looking for a reason to bring charges against Jesus, they asked him, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?”
11 He said to them, “If any of you has a sheep and it falls into a pit on the Sabbath, will you not take hold of it and lift it out? 12 How much more valuable is a person than a sheep! Therefore it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath.”
13 Then he said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” So he stretched it out and it was completely restored, just as sound as the other. 14 But the Pharisees went out and plotted how they might kill Jesus.These verses tell us everything we need to know about how God views the Law. From the time of Moses these words stood tall: "You shall do no work on the Sabbath." The Pharisees understood this, followed it to the letter. That was God's command.
Then here comes Jesus, who meets a man with a shriveled hand on the Sabbath. The Pharisees, not his biggest fans anyway, think they have him dead to rights. They've heard he's a healer. They ask what he's going to do about this man. If Jesus refuses to help him then Jesus seems small and petty, his power taken away. But if Jesus does help him then Jesus has broken God's Law about working on the Sabbath and therefore reveals himself as unfaithful.
You can almost hear the Pharisees gloating about the dilemma Jesus is in. Except there was no dilemma. Jesus healed the man. End of story. In doing so he invited the people around him to examine not just the letter of the Law, but its purpose.
The Pharisees were using God's Law like a rulebook by which they kept score. The Law was its own purpose, existing for its own sake, defining who was right and wrong. By its strictest letter they behaved right and other people behaved wrong, which is why they liked it.
Jesus gave us a different definition. The Law doesn't exist to separate right people from wrong people. The Law defines compassion and pushes us towards it. It's there so we know how to be kind and good to each other. If we're not showing compassion we're voiding the Law instead of fulfilling it. When Jesus saw the man with the withered hand, he healed it and thus fulfilled the Law. This was true even when the healing happened on the Sabbath, the day of holiness.
The Pharisees had the rulebook memorized but didn't act compassionately, so they broke the Law even when they appeared to fulfill it. Jesus acted compassionately so he fulfilled the Law even when he appeared to break it.
It's easy to flip back to Leviticus, pull out three verses of Law, and say, "This is what God says and I'm right and you're wrong and God's on my side and not on the side of those people who break this law! God's word say it right there!!!" That's cheap, immature, thoughtless, and gravely mistaken theology. Even calling it "theology" is probably a mistake because that word means "study of God" and there's neither study nor much God in that process. It's all about being right, preserving your prerogatives, justifying your judgments. The Law doesn't justify any of us. It shows us where we've fallen short that we might learn to treat each other better. Using it to treat each other worse is the height of irony.
Jesus didn't do this. He didn't treat the Law that way nor did he treat his friends and neighbors that way. Jesus showed the compassion that the Law is supposed to lead us to: healing the sick, feeding the hungry, sticking up for the poor and oppressed and condemned...especially those oppressed and condemned in the name of God's Law.
Unless you're Jewish, the only way you have access to the Law in the first place is through Christ. If it wasn't for Jesus bringing you into God's family you'd just be another non-Jewish person to whom the Law was not given. He makes the Law part of your heritage. He's the only reason you can call the God of the Law your God as well. Therefore the only way we, as Christians, are allowed to interpret the Law is as Christ did...as compassionate healers instead of self-righteous judges.
Every time you're faced with a legal/moral matter and you're tempted to say, "But God said..." you should stop, re-read this passage, and then ask yourself if you're trying to follow the letter of the Law into judgment or whether you're following its Spirit into compassion. Not everything is lawful. Not all things are good. But condemnation and an air of righteousness are not faithful responses to sin. The only truly lawful, truly faithful response to sin is to do as Jesus did, filling the space in question with God's love, compassion, and healing.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Monday, May 13, 2013
Announcements, Announcements, Announcements!
I have a bunch of churchy-theological stuff to talk about from our Gospel Group and Theology on Tap meetings plus church on Sunday! The next couple weeks will be quite busy around our church, though, so I feel like I should spend a post updating the latest announcements.
--If you haven't caught up yet, we're now worshiping at the Valley. Worship will stay at 10:00 a.m. through May.
--We have two new neighbors in town and we're looking to stock two Welcome Baskets this Sunday. This ministry has been wildly popular. If you can contribute to a Welcome Basket drop your item by the parsonage this week or bring it to the Valley on Sunday.
--This Saturday some of us adult types are going to see the new Star Trek movie in Lewiston. If you're interested in coming along let me know.
--Sunday is our Spring Tea at 2:00 p.m. at the Valley.
--You should mark your calendars for Sunday, June 9th. That's the evening we're showing all of our Sunday School Bible Movies back-to-back, including the World Premier of The Story of Jacob and Esau. You don't want to miss this.
--I'll be out of town for business and vacation for a few Sundays in July and August. We'll need people to fill in preaching, leading service, leading music, and the like. Come talk to me if you're interested.
--Don't forget we'll do the Gospel Group and Theology on Tap again next month. Watch the announcements for details!
Help us close out spring and welcome summer with appropriate enthusiasm by participating in these wonderful ministries!
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
--If you haven't caught up yet, we're now worshiping at the Valley. Worship will stay at 10:00 a.m. through May.
--We have two new neighbors in town and we're looking to stock two Welcome Baskets this Sunday. This ministry has been wildly popular. If you can contribute to a Welcome Basket drop your item by the parsonage this week or bring it to the Valley on Sunday.
--This Saturday some of us adult types are going to see the new Star Trek movie in Lewiston. If you're interested in coming along let me know.
--Sunday is our Spring Tea at 2:00 p.m. at the Valley.
--You should mark your calendars for Sunday, June 9th. That's the evening we're showing all of our Sunday School Bible Movies back-to-back, including the World Premier of The Story of Jacob and Esau. You don't want to miss this.
--I'll be out of town for business and vacation for a few Sundays in July and August. We'll need people to fill in preaching, leading service, leading music, and the like. Come talk to me if you're interested.
--Don't forget we'll do the Gospel Group and Theology on Tap again next month. Watch the announcements for details!
Help us close out spring and welcome summer with appropriate enthusiasm by participating in these wonderful ministries!
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Friday, May 10, 2013
Theology on Tap Saturday!
Theology on Tap meets Saturday at Dan and Dana Carter's home! Join us for conversation about...well, just about anything we wonder about faith, life, and church!
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
First Ever Gospel Group Meets Tonight!
We will gather at Patrick and Randi Adams' house tonight for the first ever Gospel Group. The evening will center around the gospel readings for the next few Sundays. We'll read them and then you'll share thoughts about them and any stories they bring to mind. The goal is to enjoy each other's company, enjoy God's Word, and to give me a reservoir of ideas and experiences from which I can draw sermon material.
The meeting starts at 7:00. We'll probably do it once a month but it's not a continuous Bible Study where you have to come every time in order to pick up the thread. Each meeting is distinct. Come to this one, check it out, and watch the effect on Sunday sermons!
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
The meeting starts at 7:00. We'll probably do it once a month but it's not a continuous Bible Study where you have to come every time in order to pick up the thread. Each meeting is distinct. Come to this one, check it out, and watch the effect on Sunday sermons!
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Basic Advice on Choosing a Church
An out-of-town gentlemen wrote and asked an interesting question:
1. You're correct in avoiding assumptions that a particular denomination will answer your needs. Denominational affiliation is weaker in this era than it's ever been. You'll find a variety of church communities within any denomination. The only thing to be wary of is that some denominations encourage their congregations to act/believe in ways we're going to suggest you avoid. In general you can't tell by the label alone anymore. You have to worship with people of a community before you can tell what the community is about.
2. Initial impressions tell. Once you get over the natural fear of stepping into a new place you usually get a sense of how the congregation is reacting to you. Ignoring you completely is a bad sign. But there's also the kind of "friendly" that feels like salesmanship. Both make you into a commodity. If your gut says you're welcome here and you also observe people having a fun and faithful time, that's a good sign.
3. Listen hard to the sermon and the prayers. The theology comes out here. Beware churches that make their own members feel good at the expense of people outside of their walls. That's cheap and incorrect interpretation of scripture. You'll soon find that if you don't agree with everything they say you'll become the target of their theology, sacrificed to make them feel better. Listen hard to see if they put up any walls between themselves and others. Scripture tells us that when we put up walls in God's name to disadvantage our brothers and sisters, God always hops over that wall to get on their side instead of ours. All we're left with is that smug feeling...a poor substitute for Christ.
In general sermons should be advocating for something, not railing against something. On the occasions when a preacher speaks against a wrong, you should get the sense that he's talking about the wrong in his own congregation to better prepare them to serve the world, not talking about the wrong in the world to make his congregation feel better about themselves.
4. One of the surest indicators that the theology has gone awry is an over-emphasis on your choices leading to salvation. Not only is that scriptural inaccuracy, it inevitably sets up the theology we just described. Everything depends on your choices, some make better choices than others, some get into heaven and some don't. What's our job here? Not serving God but making choices to advantage ourselves, then judging everybody else by the choices they're making. Self-centered judging is not the sign of a healthy church.
5. As you get to know a community, watch to see who participates in key ministries and how. Do the same people do everything? Is everything the same flavor all the time (same music, same programs, same Bible Studies)? Vibrant churches don't think they know the right way to do everything. They explore different ways to share gifts and express God. You should be challenged and stretched by worship and other ministries.
Maybe it's my bias, but I'm suspicious of churches where professionals do everything. I've seen some wonderful praise bands, for instance, but when those praise bands do all the music and you never see normal folks sharing music I wonder what people are really learning. Sure the music is great every time, but great music isn't a goal unto itself. I'd rather see a 14-year-old up there stumbling through her first guitar piece on occasion than have the most polished, slickest-looking church show in town. Watch how "regular folks" in the congregation serve. That'll show you how much room there will be for you.
6. Look for ways a church does public mission in the community/world. Are any visible? If so, are they just paying other people to do it by proxy or are they also engaged personally in their own community serving local needs? Could you see yourself being part of one of those projects or even creating one of your own? Do you know a need that church could help with and do the people there seem eager and willing to do so?
7. Traditional churches create positions and then look for people to fill them, as if the position defined goodness and members were cookie-cutter pieces to be plugged in. Living churches ask what gifts their members have and then design ministries around them. Do you play trombone really well? Then trombone should eventually get woven into the life of the church. Can you lay bricks, cook, tap dance? What's your passion? When you find a church that recognizes those things as gifts from God and then follows you into new ministry expressions because of them, you've found a home.
8. Listen to how church members speak about the church itself. Do they define it by building and tradition alone or is it a living, breathing, evolving community? Bad churches focus everything inward. We all serve the church, we support the church, we preserve the church, we do for the church, we reach out and try to get more members into the church...it's all self-centered except they've replaced the "church" self for the individual self. Amazing churches focus outward. The church serves others, supports others, uplifts others, does for others. The goal isn't getting more members in, but getting church members out into the world to share the Good News and love that they experience when they gather each Sunday.
People haven't been taught to do church well. So many churches assume that their own existence is the paramount goal...that they're doing God's work just because they exist. Others assume that church is about effective performance and technical perfection instead of participatory community...the show becomes bigger than life and thus overwhelms it. In each case the congregation will be willing to sacrifice its neighbors, and eventually you, in order to achieve their goals.
Great churches aren't out to preserve themselves, but to give up their lives for others as Christ asked his disciples to do. They're critical in their self-examination, gracious towards everybody else. They gather in joy and genuine welcome. They explore the length and breadth of scripture, not just the message that's convenient for their purposes. They consider the God's Word an opportunity for exploration, not a method of indoctrination. They're never satisfied that they've got it right or understand it and they're always reaching out for more to learn. They understand that they fall short of God's ideal, which is the reason Christ saved them in the first place. They're open about their own shortcomings and don't let the divisions they cause get in the way of serving others. They share love and peace, holding them as the truest expressions of God...not just talking about them but bringing them to life in everything they do.
Communities like this are out there. You'll also find plenty of church communities who want to be like this but find themselves stuck or astray...communities that your brand new voice might help. Don't just walk into a church asking what it's going to do for you, also ask what you can do for these people.
If you look, you'll find a place to call home. Blessings as you seek it.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Is there any advice that you have as to where or how I should go about trying to get back involved in church? I am not picky as to a certain kind of church as I believe they all have very good aspects to them, just looking for one that me and my family can feel like more of part of that community.Several thoughts come to mind, all of which revolve around finding a community that will allow you to explore God and will be a great place for your family to engage.
1. You're correct in avoiding assumptions that a particular denomination will answer your needs. Denominational affiliation is weaker in this era than it's ever been. You'll find a variety of church communities within any denomination. The only thing to be wary of is that some denominations encourage their congregations to act/believe in ways we're going to suggest you avoid. In general you can't tell by the label alone anymore. You have to worship with people of a community before you can tell what the community is about.
2. Initial impressions tell. Once you get over the natural fear of stepping into a new place you usually get a sense of how the congregation is reacting to you. Ignoring you completely is a bad sign. But there's also the kind of "friendly" that feels like salesmanship. Both make you into a commodity. If your gut says you're welcome here and you also observe people having a fun and faithful time, that's a good sign.
3. Listen hard to the sermon and the prayers. The theology comes out here. Beware churches that make their own members feel good at the expense of people outside of their walls. That's cheap and incorrect interpretation of scripture. You'll soon find that if you don't agree with everything they say you'll become the target of their theology, sacrificed to make them feel better. Listen hard to see if they put up any walls between themselves and others. Scripture tells us that when we put up walls in God's name to disadvantage our brothers and sisters, God always hops over that wall to get on their side instead of ours. All we're left with is that smug feeling...a poor substitute for Christ.
In general sermons should be advocating for something, not railing against something. On the occasions when a preacher speaks against a wrong, you should get the sense that he's talking about the wrong in his own congregation to better prepare them to serve the world, not talking about the wrong in the world to make his congregation feel better about themselves.
4. One of the surest indicators that the theology has gone awry is an over-emphasis on your choices leading to salvation. Not only is that scriptural inaccuracy, it inevitably sets up the theology we just described. Everything depends on your choices, some make better choices than others, some get into heaven and some don't. What's our job here? Not serving God but making choices to advantage ourselves, then judging everybody else by the choices they're making. Self-centered judging is not the sign of a healthy church.
5. As you get to know a community, watch to see who participates in key ministries and how. Do the same people do everything? Is everything the same flavor all the time (same music, same programs, same Bible Studies)? Vibrant churches don't think they know the right way to do everything. They explore different ways to share gifts and express God. You should be challenged and stretched by worship and other ministries.
Maybe it's my bias, but I'm suspicious of churches where professionals do everything. I've seen some wonderful praise bands, for instance, but when those praise bands do all the music and you never see normal folks sharing music I wonder what people are really learning. Sure the music is great every time, but great music isn't a goal unto itself. I'd rather see a 14-year-old up there stumbling through her first guitar piece on occasion than have the most polished, slickest-looking church show in town. Watch how "regular folks" in the congregation serve. That'll show you how much room there will be for you.
6. Look for ways a church does public mission in the community/world. Are any visible? If so, are they just paying other people to do it by proxy or are they also engaged personally in their own community serving local needs? Could you see yourself being part of one of those projects or even creating one of your own? Do you know a need that church could help with and do the people there seem eager and willing to do so?
7. Traditional churches create positions and then look for people to fill them, as if the position defined goodness and members were cookie-cutter pieces to be plugged in. Living churches ask what gifts their members have and then design ministries around them. Do you play trombone really well? Then trombone should eventually get woven into the life of the church. Can you lay bricks, cook, tap dance? What's your passion? When you find a church that recognizes those things as gifts from God and then follows you into new ministry expressions because of them, you've found a home.
8. Listen to how church members speak about the church itself. Do they define it by building and tradition alone or is it a living, breathing, evolving community? Bad churches focus everything inward. We all serve the church, we support the church, we preserve the church, we do for the church, we reach out and try to get more members into the church...it's all self-centered except they've replaced the "church" self for the individual self. Amazing churches focus outward. The church serves others, supports others, uplifts others, does for others. The goal isn't getting more members in, but getting church members out into the world to share the Good News and love that they experience when they gather each Sunday.
People haven't been taught to do church well. So many churches assume that their own existence is the paramount goal...that they're doing God's work just because they exist. Others assume that church is about effective performance and technical perfection instead of participatory community...the show becomes bigger than life and thus overwhelms it. In each case the congregation will be willing to sacrifice its neighbors, and eventually you, in order to achieve their goals.
Great churches aren't out to preserve themselves, but to give up their lives for others as Christ asked his disciples to do. They're critical in their self-examination, gracious towards everybody else. They gather in joy and genuine welcome. They explore the length and breadth of scripture, not just the message that's convenient for their purposes. They consider the God's Word an opportunity for exploration, not a method of indoctrination. They're never satisfied that they've got it right or understand it and they're always reaching out for more to learn. They understand that they fall short of God's ideal, which is the reason Christ saved them in the first place. They're open about their own shortcomings and don't let the divisions they cause get in the way of serving others. They share love and peace, holding them as the truest expressions of God...not just talking about them but bringing them to life in everything they do.
Communities like this are out there. You'll also find plenty of church communities who want to be like this but find themselves stuck or astray...communities that your brand new voice might help. Don't just walk into a church asking what it's going to do for you, also ask what you can do for these people.
If you look, you'll find a place to call home. Blessings as you seek it.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Monday, May 6, 2013
Forgiving Sins?
A friend and I were talking the other day and they asked about the order for confession and forgiveness at the beginning of our worship services. We went over several interesting things but the main question revolved around the forgiveness. When I pronounce forgiveness of sins, are people's sins really forgiven?
Folks have a hard time wrestling with this concept. "How can you, Pastor Dave, forgive people's sins? You're just a person, right?"
That's exactly right.
The key point here is that Dave isn't standing up there pronouncing these powerful words and making them come true by his strength, power, and grace. My strength wouldn't suffice. But Pastor Dave stands as a representative of God in that time and place. The words I speak are not my own. I'm simply declaring what God is saying to us all when confronted with our sins.
This explanation doesn't assuage people's worry when they define "Pastor" as a title of authority for its own sake. "So you're a pastor! What right does that give you to say those things?" Again this is correct. Too often "pastor" is just a badge, a self-contained, self-referential position much like a Facebook status. "Pastor" becomes the center of the proceedings. The congregation exists to acknowledge/respect/attend him. That's when we start talking about "rights".
Pastor is supposed to be a position of service. I don't stand up there as the center of worship for my own sake. Rather I stand in service to God and to the people around me. Instead of all the honor and work flowing from the congregation towards me, God's service and gracious gifts flow outward to the congregation. Forgiving sins is not a matter of my personal authority. ("I have the power!") It's a recognition of the need for service. ("We need to hear that our sins are forgiven today so they won't hold sway over us or our worship and so we can stand before God with clean hearts.") Authority is necessary so that you'll understand that God's forgiveness isn't a matter of random chance or personal choice, that he really means it and he intentionally sent someone to tell you about it. But the authority only exists to enable that service.
In other words, the power to say, "Your sins are forgiven" is not about me, it's about the gracious relationship God has with each of us. I stand in awe of, in need of, and under the power of those words every time I speak them just as everybody else does.
Astute observers may notice that I usually change the words of the absolution from what's written in our hymnal. The official text reads:
In my experience, though, leaning that hard on the authority side of the equation brings up the response my friend had--"Who are you to say this?"--more than it assures people who might be wavering. It causes raises doubt than it relieves. That's why I alter the words to:
In any case, describing the process of forgiveness--Christ's grace flowing through the witness in that moment--seems more accurate and faithful than describing an unchanging, non-transferable authority vested in the pastor.
This language change also reminds us that forgiving others isn't just about us, our own feelings, or our rights to hold an offense against another. If the pastor does something solely because of his authority as a pastor then by definition nobody else can do it. But if the pastor does something because he's leading the way in following Christ then by definition everybody else has a responsibility to do it. Our forgiveness begins each week in that central moment with the pronouncement by the pastor but it doesn't end there.
You, too, witness God to the world as you forgive people. You also have to overcome your personal misgivings and imperfections in order to do so. You become the pastor in the world when you engage in this process.
We like to think of forgiveness as a mushy, interpersonal process to which we commit all our feelings and which leaves us feeling completely better when we're done with it. Anyone who's actually had to forgive someone knows that this isn't true.
It's easiest to see this with siblings, I think. Siblings are often close but also tend to wound each other, particularly as they grow older. We usually feel bad when we don't forgive our parents but we're OK resenting brothers and sisters. But eventually the Thanksgiving rolls around when we decide to bury the hatchet. Do we feel warm and fuzzy about doing it? Not usually. Is everything magically better afterwards as we're reunited in a glorious hug-fest followed by a perfect life? No. We forgive them because they're family, because we love them, and because it's the right thing to do. We have to serve something beyond just our feelings in order to make this happen and we do, just like the pastor does on a Sunday morning.
This is also true of forgiving spouses. It's often true when we forgive our children too. When your 3-year-old just spilled permanent ink on your best dress you don't feel like forgiving him...ever. And you're not, really...at least not when judging by your personal feelings. You're going to say, "It's OK" at some point but you're going to be mad at him for a long, long time. You don't forgive because you're you. You forgive because you're mom. That's what moms do. That's where your mom authority comes from...not inside or from your feelings and desires but from following something greater than yourself into a forgiveness you know is necessary for the sake of you and your child both. Again, this echoes the pastor on Sunday morning exactly. Your mom mantle is your version of the pastor's robe. "It's OK" is your version of "In true and faithful witness to the gospel of Christ I therefore declare to you the entire forgiveness of all your sins".
If somebody didn't do this for us boldly and publicly in worship we wouldn't have the pattern, nor feel the authority and ability, to get beyond our own selves and forgive others as God forgives us. This is why the process of forgiveness and the authority behind it are important, not only to our worship lives but to our life period.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Folks have a hard time wrestling with this concept. "How can you, Pastor Dave, forgive people's sins? You're just a person, right?"
That's exactly right.
The key point here is that Dave isn't standing up there pronouncing these powerful words and making them come true by his strength, power, and grace. My strength wouldn't suffice. But Pastor Dave stands as a representative of God in that time and place. The words I speak are not my own. I'm simply declaring what God is saying to us all when confronted with our sins.
This explanation doesn't assuage people's worry when they define "Pastor" as a title of authority for its own sake. "So you're a pastor! What right does that give you to say those things?" Again this is correct. Too often "pastor" is just a badge, a self-contained, self-referential position much like a Facebook status. "Pastor" becomes the center of the proceedings. The congregation exists to acknowledge/respect/attend him. That's when we start talking about "rights".
Pastor is supposed to be a position of service. I don't stand up there as the center of worship for my own sake. Rather I stand in service to God and to the people around me. Instead of all the honor and work flowing from the congregation towards me, God's service and gracious gifts flow outward to the congregation. Forgiving sins is not a matter of my personal authority. ("I have the power!") It's a recognition of the need for service. ("We need to hear that our sins are forgiven today so they won't hold sway over us or our worship and so we can stand before God with clean hearts.") Authority is necessary so that you'll understand that God's forgiveness isn't a matter of random chance or personal choice, that he really means it and he intentionally sent someone to tell you about it. But the authority only exists to enable that service.
In other words, the power to say, "Your sins are forgiven" is not about me, it's about the gracious relationship God has with each of us. I stand in awe of, in need of, and under the power of those words every time I speak them just as everybody else does.
Astute observers may notice that I usually change the words of the absolution from what's written in our hymnal. The official text reads:
As a called and ordained minister of the church of Christ and by his authority I therefore declare to you [the forgiveness of your sins...]Notice how they rested on the authority part. There's nothing inherently incorrect about that. Likely they were thinking, "We really, really, really want people to understand that this is real so we're going to emphasize the authority and power behind this!" Perhaps they were considering folks in the pews who might be wavering about whether their own sins were really forgiven and wanted to leave no doubt.
In my experience, though, leaning that hard on the authority side of the equation brings up the response my friend had--"Who are you to say this?"--more than it assures people who might be wavering. It causes raises doubt than it relieves. That's why I alter the words to:
In true and faithful witness to the Gospel of Christ and by his authority I therefore declare to you...Notice the authority is still there. These words are both true and faithful...as solid as anything you'll find. Both truth and faith are assumed to be higher than any one of us, though. It's not my authority or even the church's. This comes from something bigger than us all: Jesus Christ dying on the cross for us that our sins might be forgiven. Few of us would think to say to Christ, "Who are you to say this?" If we did, he'd just quietly point to the cross and back to himself, then raise an eyebrow at us.
In any case, describing the process of forgiveness--Christ's grace flowing through the witness in that moment--seems more accurate and faithful than describing an unchanging, non-transferable authority vested in the pastor.
This language change also reminds us that forgiving others isn't just about us, our own feelings, or our rights to hold an offense against another. If the pastor does something solely because of his authority as a pastor then by definition nobody else can do it. But if the pastor does something because he's leading the way in following Christ then by definition everybody else has a responsibility to do it. Our forgiveness begins each week in that central moment with the pronouncement by the pastor but it doesn't end there.
You, too, witness God to the world as you forgive people. You also have to overcome your personal misgivings and imperfections in order to do so. You become the pastor in the world when you engage in this process.
We like to think of forgiveness as a mushy, interpersonal process to which we commit all our feelings and which leaves us feeling completely better when we're done with it. Anyone who's actually had to forgive someone knows that this isn't true.
It's easiest to see this with siblings, I think. Siblings are often close but also tend to wound each other, particularly as they grow older. We usually feel bad when we don't forgive our parents but we're OK resenting brothers and sisters. But eventually the Thanksgiving rolls around when we decide to bury the hatchet. Do we feel warm and fuzzy about doing it? Not usually. Is everything magically better afterwards as we're reunited in a glorious hug-fest followed by a perfect life? No. We forgive them because they're family, because we love them, and because it's the right thing to do. We have to serve something beyond just our feelings in order to make this happen and we do, just like the pastor does on a Sunday morning.
This is also true of forgiving spouses. It's often true when we forgive our children too. When your 3-year-old just spilled permanent ink on your best dress you don't feel like forgiving him...ever. And you're not, really...at least not when judging by your personal feelings. You're going to say, "It's OK" at some point but you're going to be mad at him for a long, long time. You don't forgive because you're you. You forgive because you're mom. That's what moms do. That's where your mom authority comes from...not inside or from your feelings and desires but from following something greater than yourself into a forgiveness you know is necessary for the sake of you and your child both. Again, this echoes the pastor on Sunday morning exactly. Your mom mantle is your version of the pastor's robe. "It's OK" is your version of "In true and faithful witness to the gospel of Christ I therefore declare to you the entire forgiveness of all your sins".
If somebody didn't do this for us boldly and publicly in worship we wouldn't have the pattern, nor feel the authority and ability, to get beyond our own selves and forgive others as God forgives us. This is why the process of forgiveness and the authority behind it are important, not only to our worship lives but to our life period.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Friday, May 3, 2013
The Fallacy of Closed Communion
Over the last year I've had several private discussions about the practice of Closed Communion. As you probably know, our church practices Open Communion, meaning that we commune those who come forth to the table. As people experience Closed Communion--the practice of only giving the body and blood of Christ to vetted participants--they tend to ask why. They comment that they were hurt or angered by it. Sometimes they just remark that they're glad we're "nice folks" in our church.
In an effort to answer some questions, ease hearts, and dispel some mistaken impressions we're tackling the subject of Closed Communion today. In this discussion I'm referencing Lutheran churches. Other churches have different communion theologies to which they are held accountable. Some of these things may still apply and you could probably transfer this to some Protestant churches. But it's not kosher to hold Catholics accountable to Lutheran doctrine, for instance. That's a whole different discussion.
Why do some Lutheran churches practice Closed Communion? Instead of answering for them, I simply zipped over to the website of such a church and lifted their explanation. I'm not going to list that site because I don't want to give the impression that I'm railing against that particular congregation. Their explanation pretty much mirrors the standard of Closed Communion churches everywhere. Here's how they explain it.
Let's start at the beginning. What is the assumed relationship between God and his people in this church's statement? Where is God? Who has him? Clearly this church believes that both God and the right knowledge of God lie with them. Their role is first gatekeeper of the altar--determining who is truly worthy to receive and who is not--and then dispenser of Christ.
Already we have an issue. God is with them, not with everybody else. God is localized, reduced to a possession. The bread and wine of communion--the physical elements--become the most integral part of the process. They can be possessed, controlled. God's Word and Spirit, the things that make communion unique and effective, take second place. Word and Spirit follow the bread and wine rather than bread and wine following Word and Spirit as they flow forth. We're backwards. The most important facets of the process get shoved to the side while the least important take center stage. Communion isn't a question of where and how God is working, rather who gets the goodies today and who doesn't.
If God's Spirit were active among those present already, there would be no reason to deny communion to anyone. Therefore reducing Christ to a commodity is a necessary prerequisite to the Closed Communion theology, else what would the chosen ones be gatekeepers of? The God they present is necessarily quite small.
The first question I always ask when I hear someone is practicing Closed Communion is, "Is this the God who broke the ancient boundaries of time and space, transforming life and death in order to save his children? Is this the God for whom temple curtains ripped, graves flew open, skies changed, and earthquakes shook at the moment of salvation?" It sure doesn't seem like it if he's confined back there behind the rail with theological bouncers guarding the access door.
Closed Communion starts with the premise of denying the Spirit's presence and work. From that beginning, anywhere else it goes is going to be wrong.
When confronted with Closed Communion I remember stories of Jesus' ministry among prostitutes, tax collectors, sinners, women at wells--outcasts all--while the chosen church people simmered about it. I rehearse the story of a Samaritan helping out a beaten stranger while priests and Levites passed by uncaring and unwilling to get their hands dirty. I recall how Jesus spoke to those who were so sure they had a superior relationship with God that they denied God could be present in the same way with "lesser" people who knew less and behaved worse. He was not very happy with those people, as I recall. In fact he stood up for all those lesser people and told the superior ones that they had it all wrong.
In Closed Communion the basis for (presumed) superiority lies in the words "believe" and "have faith". If you have taken the right classes and learned the right things, you are capable of correct understanding. "Belief" is defined as holding the right things in your head. Proper education is the difference between believing correctly and not. Thus we read: We take it for granted that a member of our denomination knows how to examine and prepare him/herself for Holy Communion. If you're one of us, you know and do it right. If you're not, you don't.
Just like God was earlier, here faith is reduced to a possession, a commodity. "Have faith" is taken quite literally. You earn it, carry it in your pocket. Your preparation, your work, your examination, your class-taking, your declaration of belief and membership are the righteous and proper works which give you the right stuff that makes you worthy to approach the altar. Those who haven't put in the same work can't be assumed to have the same stuff. Thus their faith is in question and they are denied.
Oddly enough in one of the most famous passages of the Small Catechism, explaining the work of the Holy Spirit, Luther writes:
The words "come to him" in Luther's quote can be taken quite literally as the walk between the pew and the altar rail to receive Our Lord. I cannot walk that aisle on the basis of my own preparation. I cannot walk that aisle on the basis of the reasoning that goes through my head. I cannot walk that aisle on the basis of already having the right "faith stuff" so I'm worthy to approach. If I already have all that's necessary, why do I need to walk that aisle in the first place? I've already got what communion is supposed to offer! Going up on that basis makes the whole thing a show at best, a sham at worst. Yet this is what Closed Communion mandates.
Closed Communion says you have to pass the test before you can come to God. But I can't pass the test unless God has already come to me!
Even a cursory glance at scripture will show you that our own understanding has a small place in this process. The first communion (at the Last Supper) was received by a group of guys who didn't understand what was about to happen at all. The Words of Institution tell us that the sacrament began "on the night of his betrayal". The disciples ate the bread, drank the cup, and then proceeded to abandon Jesus to arrest, denying him multiple times in front of witnesses They failed to defend him in front of the priests or to counter the crowd who yelled, "Crucify him!" Then they watched with helpless tears as Jesus was executed like a criminal.
Despite all that Jesus still gave his body and blood for them on that cross. He rose again as the first fruits of salvation three days later because of a power beyond their understanding. They didn't help the process at all...not with their goodness or their belief or their intentions, certainly not by any of their works. God did it all FOR them when they couldn't do it themselves.
Paul says in Romans 5: 6-8
Imagine you're a mom with a wonderful husband and three wonderful kids. One day you get a phone call. Your husband and children just got killed in an accident on the highway. When you get around to considering your relationship with God after that, how does it feel? What's going on in your heart? What questions are you asking in your head as you approach that altar? You are full of anguish, doubt, remorse, anger...even to the point of being angry at God. Is there any way in heaven or earth that you're ready to walk forward and say, "I believe without a doubt that there is a God," let alone confess that God is good?
In an effort to answer some questions, ease hearts, and dispel some mistaken impressions we're tackling the subject of Closed Communion today. In this discussion I'm referencing Lutheran churches. Other churches have different communion theologies to which they are held accountable. Some of these things may still apply and you could probably transfer this to some Protestant churches. But it's not kosher to hold Catholics accountable to Lutheran doctrine, for instance. That's a whole different discussion.
Why do some Lutheran churches practice Closed Communion? Instead of answering for them, I simply zipped over to the website of such a church and lifted their explanation. I'm not going to list that site because I don't want to give the impression that I'm railing against that particular congregation. Their explanation pretty much mirrors the standard of Closed Communion churches everywhere. Here's how they explain it.
Our practice of Closed Communion is intended to protect the communicant from receiving the Sacrament to his/her damnation. Dr. Martin Luther wrote: “Who receives this sacrament worthily? Fasting and bodily preparation are certainly fine outward training. But that person is truly worthy and well prepared who has faith in these words: ‘Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.’ But anyone who does not believe these words or doubts them is unworthy and unprepared, for the words ‘for you’ require all hearts to believe.” We take it for granted that a communicant member of [our denomination] knows how to examine and prepare him/herself for Holy Communion.Before we dig in to all the things that are wrong with this, they're not making up Luther's quotes here. When speaking of communion Luther did say that those who receive communion believing in Christ eat it to their salvation while those who receive despising Christ receive it to their damnation. We do not deny this statement. We believe it to be true, just not in the self-serving way that leads to Closed Communion making sense.
Let's start at the beginning. What is the assumed relationship between God and his people in this church's statement? Where is God? Who has him? Clearly this church believes that both God and the right knowledge of God lie with them. Their role is first gatekeeper of the altar--determining who is truly worthy to receive and who is not--and then dispenser of Christ.
Already we have an issue. God is with them, not with everybody else. God is localized, reduced to a possession. The bread and wine of communion--the physical elements--become the most integral part of the process. They can be possessed, controlled. God's Word and Spirit, the things that make communion unique and effective, take second place. Word and Spirit follow the bread and wine rather than bread and wine following Word and Spirit as they flow forth. We're backwards. The most important facets of the process get shoved to the side while the least important take center stage. Communion isn't a question of where and how God is working, rather who gets the goodies today and who doesn't.
If God's Spirit were active among those present already, there would be no reason to deny communion to anyone. Therefore reducing Christ to a commodity is a necessary prerequisite to the Closed Communion theology, else what would the chosen ones be gatekeepers of? The God they present is necessarily quite small.
The first question I always ask when I hear someone is practicing Closed Communion is, "Is this the God who broke the ancient boundaries of time and space, transforming life and death in order to save his children? Is this the God for whom temple curtains ripped, graves flew open, skies changed, and earthquakes shook at the moment of salvation?" It sure doesn't seem like it if he's confined back there behind the rail with theological bouncers guarding the access door.
Closed Communion starts with the premise of denying the Spirit's presence and work. From that beginning, anywhere else it goes is going to be wrong.
When confronted with Closed Communion I remember stories of Jesus' ministry among prostitutes, tax collectors, sinners, women at wells--outcasts all--while the chosen church people simmered about it. I rehearse the story of a Samaritan helping out a beaten stranger while priests and Levites passed by uncaring and unwilling to get their hands dirty. I recall how Jesus spoke to those who were so sure they had a superior relationship with God that they denied God could be present in the same way with "lesser" people who knew less and behaved worse. He was not very happy with those people, as I recall. In fact he stood up for all those lesser people and told the superior ones that they had it all wrong.
In Closed Communion the basis for (presumed) superiority lies in the words "believe" and "have faith". If you have taken the right classes and learned the right things, you are capable of correct understanding. "Belief" is defined as holding the right things in your head. Proper education is the difference between believing correctly and not. Thus we read: We take it for granted that a member of our denomination knows how to examine and prepare him/herself for Holy Communion. If you're one of us, you know and do it right. If you're not, you don't.
Just like God was earlier, here faith is reduced to a possession, a commodity. "Have faith" is taken quite literally. You earn it, carry it in your pocket. Your preparation, your work, your examination, your class-taking, your declaration of belief and membership are the righteous and proper works which give you the right stuff that makes you worthy to approach the altar. Those who haven't put in the same work can't be assumed to have the same stuff. Thus their faith is in question and they are denied.
Oddly enough in one of the most famous passages of the Small Catechism, explaining the work of the Holy Spirit, Luther writes:
I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faithI cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ my Lord, OR come to Him! No matter how many classes I take, how many words I confess, how much examination I do, or how much I prepare myself, I cannot make belief happen. Both belief and faith are gifts from God. They depend on God's work, not my own. Belief is not knowing the right things. Faith is not carried in your pocket or pinned on like a badge. Belief and faith flow from a living relationship with God in which he gives and we receive.
The words "come to him" in Luther's quote can be taken quite literally as the walk between the pew and the altar rail to receive Our Lord. I cannot walk that aisle on the basis of my own preparation. I cannot walk that aisle on the basis of the reasoning that goes through my head. I cannot walk that aisle on the basis of already having the right "faith stuff" so I'm worthy to approach. If I already have all that's necessary, why do I need to walk that aisle in the first place? I've already got what communion is supposed to offer! Going up on that basis makes the whole thing a show at best, a sham at worst. Yet this is what Closed Communion mandates.
Closed Communion says you have to pass the test before you can come to God. But I can't pass the test unless God has already come to me!
Even a cursory glance at scripture will show you that our own understanding has a small place in this process. The first communion (at the Last Supper) was received by a group of guys who didn't understand what was about to happen at all. The Words of Institution tell us that the sacrament began "on the night of his betrayal". The disciples ate the bread, drank the cup, and then proceeded to abandon Jesus to arrest, denying him multiple times in front of witnesses They failed to defend him in front of the priests or to counter the crowd who yelled, "Crucify him!" Then they watched with helpless tears as Jesus was executed like a criminal.
Despite all that Jesus still gave his body and blood for them on that cross. He rose again as the first fruits of salvation three days later because of a power beyond their understanding. They didn't help the process at all...not with their goodness or their belief or their intentions, certainly not by any of their works. God did it all FOR them when they couldn't do it themselves.
Paul says in Romans 5: 6-8
6 For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. 7 For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— 8 but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
For the ungodly Christ died. Not for the most righteous nor for the best nor for the ones who knew the most. Christ gave himself up for those who needed him most.
It's ironic, then, that the tenets of Closed Communion deny Christ to the people who need him most today.
Imagine you're a mom with a wonderful husband and three wonderful kids. One day you get a phone call. Your husband and children just got killed in an accident on the highway. When you get around to considering your relationship with God after that, how does it feel? What's going on in your heart? What questions are you asking in your head as you approach that altar? You are full of anguish, doubt, remorse, anger...even to the point of being angry at God. Is there any way in heaven or earth that you're ready to walk forward and say, "I believe without a doubt that there is a God," let alone confess that God is good?
What if you're mentally disabled? What if you have a stroke? How about Alzheimer's? What if you were sexually abused all throughout your childhood? What if you just got diagnosed with cancer? What's going through your head then as you come to communion?
We need God most among the lowest moments and greatest injuries in our lives. Yet these same things make it impossible for us to do the work, speak with the surety of belief, and approach the altar with the certainty that Closed Communion requires. Properly, then, we should be denied and asked to come back when our faith is stronger and our heads are back on straight again.
As a side note, almost every pastor of a Closed Communion church would say, "There's no way I'd deny communion to a person in that condition!" This should tell you something. Even they know that they can't follow through with their standard. That means this isn't really about theology. What they're really doing is deciding whose trauma and suffering are great enough and whose don't clear the bar. The standard they're falling back on in the absence of "special consultation" is whether a person is a member of their church. Nobody else's suffering and need are assumed to be valid enough to merit an exception.
Luther describes one of the main benefits of communion as forgiveness of sins. Why, then, is communion limited to the people who presumably sin the least? A friend once asked what would happen if an atheist alcoholic came up to receive, the assumption being that they don't belong. But who needs Christ more? Consider the story of the meal in Matthew, Chapter 9:
10 As Jesus reclined at table in the house many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples. 11 And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” 12 But when he heard it, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. 13 Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’ For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.”
Are we to somehow believe that when we get to the most important meal of all, Jesus changes his mind and makes it about your worthiness instead of his mercy? Suddenly those who are most well benefit while those most in need have to hang back? Once again we have to flip everything backwards if we are to believe in Closed Communion.
This is why it's important that when you see the words "faith" and "belief" you think first of trust. Trust is not internal, but part of a relationship. Trust is not a matter of control but surrender. You don't have to think the right thing first in order to trust. Trust is what you fall back on when you know you can't think the right thing or make the situation right. Therefore we read Luther's quote as, "But that person is truly worthy and well prepared who trusts in these words: ‘Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.’"
Now consider: How does one express trust? It's not by filling out a card with check marks or making some kind of prescribed confession. It doesn't happen in a class or at admission to membership. All of those things deny the need for trust. In each of those acts you're saying, "Hey...I got this! I got it right!" Where does the trust part come in?
You show trust by approaching the altar and lifting your hands out. That's the only thing that makes you worthy to receive.
By approaching you're not saying you have it right. You're not saying you understand God. You're not saying you're perfect or free from sin. You're not saying you're better prepared than the person sitting next to you. In fact you may not get it at all! You may not have even thought about God until today. Maybe you spent your whole life running away, denying him, doing wrong stuff. By coming forward and lifting out our hands you and me and that dear old saintly lady who's been part of this church for 100 years are all saying the same thing, on the same ground, with the same motion:
"I don't understand, Lord. I can't contain you in my head or codify you in a set of beliefs. I can't convince myself that you're there all the time, or sometimes that you even exist. I can't always feel your presence. I don't always see my part in your plan. I don't do right. I've failed you often. I'm not worthy of you and I really, really don't get why you still love me so much. But I trust that you do, even though I don't understand all this. I trust that you're going to fill in what I need. I'm going to put my hands out now. I hope you'll be there."
And God replies, "Yeah, I'm here. Always."
And that's what "The Body of Christ, given for you" means.
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I shouldn't have to say much more than that but Closed Communion folks are going to say, "What about the damnation? Luther spoke about the damnation and you just ignored it!" So bear with me through one more thought.
Closed Communion folks say, "Our practice of Closed Communion is intended to protect the communicant from receiving the Sacrament to his/her damnation.". It's as if that bread and wine were poison if you touch it while thinking wrongly. The chalice needs a big "Mr. Yuk" sticker on it warning people of the danger. That would be crass, so Mr. Yuk is embodied by the pastor and the church rules on communion.
On a common sense level the idea that we need protection from God should strike you as odd. It's a strange way to conduct church, especially in the face of the resurrected Christ. Also, why in the world would God just leave poison sitting up there on the altar when people might accidentally eat it and get damned? It seems a little irresponsible, especially since the people who are supposedly benefiting from it don't actually get that much benefit. They already did all the righteous work in the classes and in their heads, believing the right things and getting faith and such. Communion itself is just a pat on the back for them, the diploma at their faith graduation ceremony. The upside of them taking it rightly is far less than the downside of the rest of us taking it wrongly.
Here's an even better question: The way Closed Communion folks construct their theology, isn't a person who doesn't believe in God correctly damned anyway? Are people going to believe wrongly their whole lives then get to Judgement Day only to hear God say, "You totally messed up...but did you take communion?"
"Nope! Never!"
"Whew! You can come in, then! If you had eaten that bread, though, you'd have been damned!"
If the wrong thinkers are going to be damned anyway, what harm in letting them receive the sacrament? What worse will happen?
There are only two ways keeping people from the sacrament Would make sense:
1. If you'd somehow be damned sooner, the instant you received. But their gate-keeping process can't be perfect and I don't see many people keeling over dead at the altar or the floor opening up and swallowing them into the depths as soon as they receive the bread and wine.
2. If you'd be damned irrevocably in a way that could never be undone. I'd hope that few, if any, Closed Communion folks would claim that. Not only does it put way too much weight on this one act, it's also really problematic for the pastor in charge to be making those decisions. Forget the communion card, they better have a final exam before every service. Plus anybody who messed up even once should be kicked out as beyond redemption. (P.S. Claiming this kind of power is one of the things that made Luther really mad at his church leaders.)
If neither of these things are true then the risk of giving an unworthy person communion is far less than the risk of denying a worthy person. You're not harming the unworthy person any more than they're already harmed or in any way that can't be corrected as they come into a better relationship with God. You could be harming the people who need that relationship can't get it because you keep them out.
As you can see, Closed Communion makes little sense even according to its own theology. Fortunately we don't have to deal with those silly questions because Luther's declaration about damnation is properly understood as part of the sacramental cycle of life, death, and resurrection.
When we are baptized our old, sinful selves drown in the water and we are raised to new life. Baptism embodies death and life, an ending and a new beginning. This is why we reference it not only during a baptismal service, but at funerals where the final death has occurred and new life awaits.
This cycle is echoed in communion. Even as we come forward and reach our hands out in trust, part of us doesn't understand and doesn't want to depend on God. It's the same part of us that ultimately doesn't want to die because it considers the self the center of everything. That part fears the sacrament--particularly the dying part--and fights against our trust.
We don't bring shiny, unstained hearts to the altar rail. We bring fear, doubt, selfishness, sin. We are powerless to rid ourselves of these things, which again is why our part of the communion relationship is trust and not perfection.
As we receive Our Lord in communion our fearful, mistrusting, selfish selves are crucified with Jesus. This is why we say he took all of our sins upon him on the cross. No matter how that self-centered, sinful part of us tries to escape the looming cross it's done away with despite its protestations (and ours). Communion does not leave us unchanged. We die and are raised anew, transformed by Christ despite our wishes and wills.
Luther is precisely correct. Those who eat unworthily eat to their damnation. And we all eat unworthily. Our old selves perish into nothingness at that altar rail. We kneel down and are dealt the blow which we most fear. Then our new selves rise up again and go out into the world to do God's work.
When Closed Communion folks claim to protect us from God, they're literally doing what they say: keeping us apart from him and everything he has planned for us. By trying to stop death at the altar rail they also stop the new life.
In order to justify these actions they can't feel that they die or are in any way damned when they come to the altar. That's why participation in the sacrament depends on your preparation and perfection, not on God's intention to work terrifying and glorious salvation in (and despite) you. Closed Communion ends up being another of humanity's old and tiresome attempts to avoid dying by finding away around the cross through one's own works...grasping at God and life eternal without suffering and dying...getting to the garden by climbing over the fence instead of walking through the gate. Anyone who's ever had a sniff of Luther will understand how anti-Lutheran that is.
So you see, our policy of Open Communion has nothing to do with us being "nice" or "tolerant" or "more accepting". It's because Closed Communion is a bald denial of the Christ who comes through the sacrament. And yes, you should feel hurt and angered when you experience the rejection that comes along with Closed Communion. It's not just a personal hurt, like somebody said you're not good enough. That's part of it to be sure, but none of us are good enough and we can admit that. The deeper wound comes from people telling a deep, intolerable lie about God, reducing him to a puppet, injuring others in his name, robbing the sacrament of its power and meaning, and denying the Good News of his overflowing grace to those who desperately need it.
In Matthew 16, Peter confessed Jesus as the Son of God. Jesus praised him and told him that upon this rock he would build his church. Then Jesus began to explain that being the Messiah meant suffering at the hands of the priests and scribes, dying, and rising again. Peter responded to him, "Far be it from you, Lord! This shall never happen to you!" In Peter's protest you can hear every argument Closed Communion has to offer. "Why would you need to die, Lord? You need not give yourself up to the unworthy, nor be touched by anyone unclean! You have us! Stay alive and rule with your good and faithful disciples! We'll keep all those other people away."
And Jesus responded, "Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me. For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on human things."
Amen.
Amen.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Reminder: Worship Moving to the Valley This Sunday!
Here's your reminder that worship moves to the Valley church this Sunday. Worship remains at 10:00 through the month of May.
I always love returning to the Valley as spring heads into summer. The intimacy and beauty provide their own flavor, distinct from and as special as St. John's is during the year. Come and enjoy the different setting and new feeling of worship!
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
I always love returning to the Valley as spring heads into summer. The intimacy and beauty provide their own flavor, distinct from and as special as St. John's is during the year. Come and enjoy the different setting and new feeling of worship!
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
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