Killing Religion?

I recently received notification of a new follower on Twitter and the “about” portion of this person’s profile says, “Love killing religion one life at a time” and then goes on to describe the founding pastor of such-and-such Church.

So, you’re a pastor and your bi-line on Twitter is “Love killing religion”?  How’s that working out for you?

Maybe I have just gotten tired of the “relationship versus religion” cliche.  I don’t see the hidden code in it anymore.  If you are a pastor and your vocation is to tend a flock of people who gather in whatever habitual manner for this event called worship...you aren’t killing religion.  

I’m not speaking of the newly broadcast phenomenon of the “nones” or the “spiritual but not religious” era that we are now comfortable talking about.  I have no issue with folks who claim to be in either of these categories because I have been one of those people.  I was a self-avowed free-range spiritual type who would not be stuffed into any cubby-hole.  I get that.

I have just lost my patience for the whole “you need a relationship more than you need religion” thing.  Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s maturity, maybe I’m just comfortable calling the demonstration of a relationship what it is: Religion.  

In my first church I had a parishioner come up to me and say that she didn’t like the way I did the communion service, that it was too ritualistic and she didn’t really care for ritual. (Of course she told me all of this by using the royal “we”... or it might have been the covert “some people.”) But what I shared with her is that she actually did like ritual; she just liked different ritual.  

When I arrived at the church I was told that the last Sunday of the month was “Birthdays and Anniversaries Sunday” where members of the congregation would come up and put coins into a little church, all the monies went to mission. 

I was also informed of several other little traditions of “how we do things here” -- all of which were rituals.  Rituals are patterns of behavior that become part of a culture.  Local congregations are full of little rituals, and sometimes a distinct lack of Ritual is part of their rituals.

So when I encounter folks who take pride in “Killing Religion One Life at a Time” and they are in the employ of the Church, I have to wonder if there are actually people out there who still need to hear those code words.  And I want to say something like, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

I think of it like this.  Religion is to a person’s relationship with the Divine, like demonstrations of love are to your significant other.  Of course, if you have never been in love AND if you have no real belief in the Divine then this analogy is probably lost on you.  But if you have either one then stick with me.

I have been married for 15 years. After this amount of time you would think that my wife and I would be rather comfortable in the knowledge of our love for one another.  We have a very healthy and secure relationship.  That being said, I still say to her pretty much every night before I go to sleep, “I love you, baby.”  And when we have been separated due to work requirements I have said it to her picture.  Why? Because love needs to be expressed.  If my wife ever stopped saying, “I love you” when I left for work, I would wonder if something was wrong.  Depending on how long a time passed, I would ask her about it.  And if she said, “Wow! Do you really need me to say that all the time? Can’t I just say it when I feel like it?”  If she said something like that it would hurt and I might wonder if she still loved me--and I know she would feel the same way if it was the other way around, too.

So why is it that we take this tact with our relationship with the Divine?  Some say that religion is about doing specific deeds to earn the love of God.  I think that’s a pretty petty and judgmental thing to say. Do folks get into ruts and go through the motions from time to time?  Sure.  Ever talk to a couple that has been married for 50 or 60 years or more?  They will tell you that they aren’t hot and steamy in love for each other all the time.  There is an ebb and flow to being “in love” but one thing is certain little rituals like, “I love you, baby” never went away.

And so it is with religion.  There is an ebb and flow, and there are time when we go through the motions.  As one pastor put it, “There are times that the Daily Office feels like sand in my mouth” but religion is the action that draws us to the water of life over and over and over again.  

What I know of our body’s need for water seems to be the way my spirituality needs practice.  If I go without water for an extended period of time, dehydration sets in, the body doesn’t function the way it needs to.  Pretty much everybody knows, you have to drink a certain amount of water every day whether you feel like or not.  In case of point, most folks know that if you feel thirsty you’ve gone too long without water.

This is the way I see the “Killing of Religion” from those who would call themselves Christian.  You’re inviting people to live in spiritual dehydration, telling them it’s okay to only drink when they are thirsty and hurting them spiritually in the guise of doing something good.

Messengers, Shepherds and Redemption Songs

Sermon "notes" from Sunday, December 30th.  I was using Luke 2:8-20 as my text.

If you’ve seen the animated movie of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer you might remember the song that Rudolph and his friend Hermey sing:

“We're a couple of misfits / We're a couple of misfits / What's the matter with misfits / That's where we fit in!

Why am I such a misfit? / I am not just a nit wit! / I'm an adorable reindeer / Why don't I fit in?

Why am I such a misfit? / I am not just a nit wit! / They can't fire me. / I QUIT!”

I’m a sucker for misfits, personally.  The Goonies is one of my favorite movies, I loved cheering for the Patriots when they were underdogs (If you can remember back that far…), I fell in love with our last cat, Libby, because she was the runt of the litter. In fact, that’s the ‘chink in my armor’ that my wife exploited so that we would bring Libby home from the farm.

Growing up and into my early 20s I never really identified that the gospel was for misfits, too.  I always thought that Jesus only loved the holy people, people who had their lives together, the pretty folks, “The Beautiful People”…not misfits, underdogs, ragamuffins, Goonies and sinners.  But, at least in Luke’s gospel, the first declaration of Good News, the first “Evangelion” comes to misfits, outcasts, the shady, street-savvy shepherds.

It’s important to get the historical context behind Shepherds, because we, in the contemporary church, have cleaned up Christmas to pretty pastoral images that give us little understanding of who was actually there.

Shepherds were poorly educated; they did not own land; they pretty much lived with the sheep day in and day out, which means they smelled like live-stock and earth and a general lack of hygiene.  Our pretty nativity shepherds compared to the real deal are like Gene Autry versus Fist Full of Dollars or Good, Bad, Ugly Clint Eastwood.  You’ve got pretty, cologne-scented people and leather, sweat and earth.

Shepherds were (and still are) humble underdogs that nobody really wants to be around, and it is to these folks that the good news is declared.

Luke says they were watching their flocks by night and that an angel, a messenger of God, appears to them with God’s glory shining all around, and the shepherds were terrified.  Luke’s words right there, “And they were terrified.” Greek is “Megas Phobeo” Megas = Big…Phobeo = Fear.  They had big fear at the messenger and God’s glory.  They were terrified.  Why? Because they are shepherds.  They are dirty, smelly, nasty sheep tenders standing in the presence, the evidence, the sure sign of God’s presence.  That’s the glory of the Lord; the splendor, brightness, magnificence and majesty of God.

Now you might remember that I described shepherds as uneducated and maybe you’re thinking that they wouldn’t know about the glory of the Lord—the kabod (“ka-vode”) Yahweh.  But these are good, observant first century Jewish folks who know their Torah and they know that the the Kabod Yahweh means if you’re not holy, you stay the heck away!  

So as they back away in fear the angel says, “phobeo me”…”fear not”…”no fear!”…”Do Not Be Afraid!” That, in and of itself, is good news!  

The glory of God is shining and the message is “don’t be afraid!” 

Don’t be afraid I have good news for you and for all people.  A Savior is born! The messiah is born! And he is here for everyone, not just a Jewish Messiah, not just a Gentile Messiah, not an American Savior, or a Representative for the Righteous and Holy Ones.  He is the Rescuer of the Whole of Humanity!  He hasn’t come to stand in judgment with the “holier than thou’s”; he’s come to be in solidarity with those who feel stuck in squalor…to lift us up from the miry clay and teach us HIS new song!

This is how you find him, the messenger says.  This is where you’ll find him, the messenger says.  The angel doesn’t say, “Hey Sinners! A Savior’s been born and you better find him soon!” Like some kind of sacred scavenger hunt.  No.  “This is how you find him,” the messenger says.  “This is where you’ll find him,” the messenger says…and then the sky explodes with light and song.  Creation and the heavens cannot hold the joy any longer and a multitude of messengers break forth into the song of God’s glory—they sing of the declaration of God’s peace—teaching us the song we are to sing as a rescued people.

Songs about being rescued from loneliness, rescued from shame, rescued into the light, rescued into peace—songs of deliverance—redemption songs.  Bob Marley sings it like this:

Won't you help to sing / These songs of freedom? - / 'Cause all I ever had: / Redemption songs - / All I ever had: / Redemption songs: / These songs of freedom, / Songs of freedom.

And the multitude of heavenly hosts sings it like this: “Glory to God in the highest heaven and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”  Peace!  Peace!  I don’t know about you but knowing that peace is God’s gift to those whom he favors (and if you look at the previous message from the one angel the good news is for all peoples!) is good news in turbulent times, a respite in busy-ness, and calm in chaos.  

God holds out to us in the birth of his Son…peace—freedom from fear—not freedom from bad things, but freedom to not be afraid if and when trouble strikes, because God has stepped into our world to be with us in all of it.  

Peace is a gift I need.  And maybe it’s something you need, too.

After the multitude of heavenly host departs, the shepherds are faced with a choice.  They can stay there, reflect and do nothing; confident in the knowledge that God has acted decisively on our behalf, do a “Wow, THAT was cool!” and move on—kind of like Clark Griswold and family at the grand canyon in the movie Vacation—OR they can respond to it, visit this Jesus they’ve been told about, and become messengers themselves.  As unlikely as shepherd angels might seem…

I grew up with the advent of home computers: the Texas Instruments Computers, the Tandy Color Computer, and the high-speed, super slick Commodore 64.  If you’re of that generation, or if you remember it you’ll also remember typing line after line after line of BASIC code to get a chunky, 30 second bit of program to run.  

If there is a final point to this whole message it’s kind of akin to BASIC.  

10 Clear All

20 Print, “Good news of great joy for all the peoples!”

30 Go to 20

Those who know the Messiah/ Jesus, “sing” about him to others (shepherds, kings, learned people, not so educated people, good people, bad people…all people!) and those others who hear our “songs” about Jesus visit Jesus, meet with Jesus, get to know and be known by Jesus and leave as messengers who “sing” about Jesus to “all the peoples.”

If there is a final point, it’s that we’re meant to become messengers.  We’re meant to sing redemption songs to the world, the whole world.  As unlikely as we may seem, think about who the angels went to.  Not to the priests in the temple, but to shepherds in the field.  Not to clean, washed, pretty-smelling holy-holy folks, but to dirty, unwashed, nasty-smelling not-so-very holy at all folks.  Folks that give me hope.  Folks I can relate to, folks maybe you can relate to.

New Year

There are certain things that go with celebrating the New Year in Japan.  Sending cards to folks (we just had a delivery of cards from some of our Japanese friends), deep cleaning of the home, and specific decorations.  Last year we bought a small new year's "good luck" door decoration, and in typical foreigner fashion left it up too long.  Our neighbors politely told us in late February that it was okay to take it down.

The decorations represent longevity, prosperity and steadfastness, respectively. The fundamental function of the New Year ceremonies is to honor and receive the deity, who will then bring a bountiful harvest for farmers and bestow the ancestors' blessing on everyone."

I don't embrace all of the Japanese spirituality, but I like the idea of cleaning house and setting out items that tell the Deity you are ready to receive  blessing.  I can appreciate the idea that prosperity--in the Hebrew scriptures understanding of prosperity (shalom for the whole community)--is dependent upon our recognition of God's movement in our lives.

Today we have been cleaning the kitchen and baking cookies and cakes to take into the USO center on base to feed the unaccompanied folks who have no other place to go, and to give them something close to home-baked.  It's part of cleaning out the old to make room for the new (but the "old" isn't out dated food-stuffs) just a pattern of eating we--or maybe more accurately, I--want to move away from.

Cleaning house is a way of saying, I'm letting go of what has been in order to make room of what can be.  It's a very Lenten approach to the New Year and I like that.  I connect with the embodiment of spirituality and maybe if we made the celebration of the New Year more than just a list of things to check off, that our interest in change may become a commitment.

Living in Compassion

My wife and I were walking through a local park this afternoon to the shopping arcade and the local coffee shop.  We crossed paths with someone who had been involved in a bit of a scandal in our community; this person smiled and waved and we did the same, but I think all of us knew that we all knew the situation.

It was sad and beautiful all at the same time because this person is carrying the shame/guilt of being part of a scandal in a small community and, like so many other folks I know, their sense of identity is grounded in their brokenness.  So when they see others, all they see is a mirror of shame and guilt.

I said to my wife as we passed farther away, "I love being an agent of grace."  And I do.  As a Chaplain, I get to hear lots of stories of brokenness.  I hear so many things that I don't want to know or don't need to know, but I hear them.  And as I hear the stories of the folks in my community, I become more and more certain of this one thing: Everyone needs compassion because everyone is broken.

We all have stories and within those stories are some notorious episodes that have the potential to mark our spirits with guilt and shame.  I believe this to be a universal truth: we are all broken, and we all need compassion.

I hope that if I can leave the many faith communities I have served one thing it is this: the Church (capital C, universal Church) needs to embrace something that most recovery groups practice and that is acceptance of brokenness.  I would love to lead a worship gathering that begins with the words "Hi my name is Daniel and I am a sinner." To which everyone present would say, "Hi, Daniel," and nod knowingly because we hold this one thing to be true: We are all broken and we all need compassion, and in that we have common ground.


Paul writes to his protege Timothy, "This saying is reliable and deserves full acceptance: 'Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners'--and I'm the biggest sinner of all." (1 Timothy 1:15 CEB)

Yes, I can walk around my community and tell you stories about so many people.  But I don't because we all have stories and not every part of our story is something to be proud of.  I have stories, too; and a few of them are quite colorful (and some are pretty dark).  But I am not defined by my scandals; they make up who I am today, but they do not define me.  Compassion defines me...most of the time...hopefully...

It's about this time every year that I get a little homesick.  Maybe it's fitting that Advent (the season that leads up to the celebration of Christmas) stirs up some restlessness in me, but there's something about this season of the Church that tugs at my soul and draws me into liturgy.

Pretty much any other time of year I'm an electric bass wielding, hands in the air kind of guy.  I love loud, rockin' worship music.  When I'm synced with my drummer and the notes are flowing, there is space for God to reach me in the noise.

But there's something about Advent that draws me into stillness, and into quiet places of worship.  This is what I mean by saying I get a little homesick.

Growing up, my family moved around a lot.  I went to something like eight different schools in twelve years.  After high school I enlisted in the Navy and spent four years moving around a lot.  As a result, I can't stay anywhere for much longer than three or four years before I get the itch to move.  This is one of the good things about being an itinerant pastor and a military chaplain.  I get to move.  A lot.  So when I say that I get homesick, it's not for a place. I miss my family.  I miss them a lot.  But "home" is not a geographic location for me.  My heart does not pine for northwest Indiana or a specific house in that town.  

My heart pines for an experience of the Holy.  My heart pines for peace.  In the stillness and in the quiet places of Advent Liturgy, there is space for God to reach me in a way that noise and rockin' worship music cannot touch.

Which always leaves me with the dilemma of finding a middle road for the folks who still love it loud and my own needs.  I struggle with balance in this season because, like most pastors, I am so busy that if I do not stay plugged in, I run spiritually dry and am not of use to anyone.

So if you're reading this and you are not a pastor, or involved in worship leadership, please take care of those who are.  Know that we have needs that go beyond keeping others full, and to keep others full we need to stay spiritually connected ourselves.  And sometimes what we need and what others need are not the same thing.

O come, O come, Emmanuel.

Conversations

I love serving in a ministry setting where there is such a diverse group of religious backgrounds.

Had a conversation today with someone who was incredibly stuck on the logical notion of Christian faith.  I hear over and over again that in order to be a good Christian a person has to always have their mind on Christ.  "Love the Lord with all your mind, heart, soul and strength" was even tossed out there and I didn't realize until later that the passage actually says "heart, soul, mind and strength."  Maybe I'm picking at nits, maybe not.

All I really wanted to say to this particular person was "Let Jesus out of your mind and into your heart!"  Even if you want to put the mind in front of the list of things to "Love the Lord" with, remember that it says LOVE the Lord.

I'm not saying that our faith needs to be an unthinking, mushy "love, love, love all you need is love" way of living.  We need to be, ought to be, thinking people.  But I truly believe that a life of faith is more than just intellectual assent to a list of ideas and it is much more than just mind over body; because if we believe we are saved by grace through faith and then force changed habits with mental will-power then all we've made Jesus into is New Year's Day and our faith-produced behavior is nothing but a resolution that we keep or don't keep.  Jesus wants us to be more than resolution keepers.

I have been fasting during the working day for almost 40 days now.  The fast began as a way to seek discernment about the future my family and I are being called into.  About two days ago, the way ahead was made clear, I know the direction, but I haven't finished my dedicated 40 day journey.  I had thought about ending the fast and happily eating lunch again with my co-workers and family, but I decided to give the last 4 days to God simply for the glory--simply because of love.

I don't say this for a pat on the back, or to get a "way to go!"  I say this because it's a real way, in my own life, that I am continuing to do something unpleasant, something I don't particularly want to do, out of love.  It's more than will power, more than mind over body--because my mind is yelling at me to eat because the season of discernment has ended and my body wants food.  The motivating factor is love not dedication to a habit.

More reflections on conversations coming up...

Deliver Me from My Certainty

In the sixth chapter of John's gospel, the crowd said about Jesus, "Is this not Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we all know?"  The sparked my mind to think about the ways we box in Jesus; how we know what we know, and that's all we need to know.

I am blessed by something quite unique.  I preach in a multi-denominational, multi-ethnic worship gathering in an overseas military chapel.  Most of the people at this worship gathering would not see each other if we were not overseas, because we would all be worshiping in places where the folk look, talk, act and believe just like us.  

The biggest problem for the Church, especially in the West, is that we flock to places that revolve around doctrine rather than Jesus.  We look for places that--even if they speak of relationship over religion--still speak our preferred religious language.  Doctrine gives us the Jesus, whose mother and father we all know.

Maybe I'm guilty of mostly listening to people who speak my language, or my dialect, but I try to read authors who poke me out of theological box of comfort and say things like "following Jesus is more important that adhering to a specific set of doctrines."

This is a statement that I cannot attribute to any given author, but the theme certainly exists in many of the books I am currently reading.

I'll ask you, void, this question:  what do people want or need more: rule followers or Jesus followers?  And here's a follow-on question: which is more transformative: rule followers or Jesus followers?

I'm reading Len Sweet's book I Am a Follower, and in the first chapter he talks about this video that went viral a few years ago.  (The link is here: Sasquatch Dancer)  It shows this young man, who may or may not be in an altered state of reality, dancing in a hill all by himself at a music festival.  After a few minutes another person joins him and for brief moments they are in sync.  After a little bit, another person joins in, dancing in his own way, and not much after that it's a full on dance party. (The whole thing really makes me miss being at Grateful Dead shows, I must confess!)

If Jesus really is "The Lord of the Dance"--as the old hymn says--then he's the one who's playing the music, and he's waiting for us to get up and move to the melody.  The people around us are waiting, not for the choreography to be listed, nor for the rules for dancing to be explained; they are waiting for us to dance--they are waiting to see us move with love.

Throughout Scripture, God continually reminds people boundaries do not apply to the nature of God.  The best example is from Exodus where Moses is trying to get out of the task set before him.  He asks God, "What if I go to the Israelites and tell them 'The God of your ancestors sent me to you' and they ask for your name; what shall I tell them?"  To which God replies, "I am who I am. I will be who I will be." (Exodus 3:13-14)

God is bigger than any understanding we may have, no matter how big that understanding may be.  A name cannot define God; a concept cannot define God; a dogma cannot define God.  Jesus may be the clearest picture we have of God (and I believe He is) but even Jesus says there are things only God knows that he does not (Matthew 24:36).

What's my point?  The Church is more like the crowd in John 6 than we might like to imagine, and Jesus wants to free us from our certainty.