A Sad State

Sorry for the last of posts. I'll do better.

As you may remember, I’m teaching a seminary course on the history of the Church. We’ve just spent the last several weeks in the muck and mire that was the Church of the Middle Ages. Story after story of episcopal , papal, and clerical greed, lust for power, and indifference to the needs of the people. After the students had read the material and before I began to supplement it with lectures, I asked them for their reaction. These were pretty typical.
“Disgusted!”
“Appalled.”
“If you’ve known this all your ministry, how did you keep YOUR faith?”

I thought the last question was a pretty good one. My answer was something to the effect that most of the time I could separate God from the Church. I meant that most of the time, I’m able to remember that we have not even come close as a Church to carrying out the work to which Jesus has called us. Largely because we are fallible humans who, when offered the opportunity, tend to misuse our power and position. We either get carried away with the belief that we’re God’s anointed and therefore can make no errors and admit no unrighteousness, OR we just like the power that comes from leadership positions—even though there is no real money involved anymore.

I remember being told by a friend in ministry years ago that, for the most part, I would serve parishes who were led by people, who in the “real world” were relatively powerless. Most would be blue collar or low level employees of companies in which they would take orders rather than give them. But at church, they would be on par with others and when they became leaders, they would bring with that the frustration of their daily lives. And they would play that out in their leadership style and decisions.

I really didn’t want to believe it. It’s true though.

There’s something else I learned on my own during the time I did business consulting. Most business leaders are not competent to lead their businesses to excellence. As long as they are making some money, they feel successful. Consequently, they tend to make poor management decisions. I had lots of companies pay me lots of money to continue to do stupid things. These people also become church leaders and muddle that work too. Even worse, they justify a lot of that poor decision making by saying, “The church is not a business.” Except, of course, when it comes to balancing the budget and giving less than adequate pay to their staff, and postponing capital expenses until something outrageous happens. [Remember, our current sorry situation in the good ole U.S. of A, was brought to you by these same people.]

I was also asked what the day to day life of people in the Middle Ages parishes was like, spiritually speaking. In fact, there is a lot of information available to answer that question. The short version is that for the most part, they did the best they could to get their spiritual needs addressed by a largely indifferent and unqualified clergy. True, of lot of that was through the development of many superstitions that are still present today. But, what the heck, you do what you have to.

I’d like to end on a happy note, but we’re in the middle of studying the Reformation. A movement meant to reform the Church and its practices and in which hundreds, if not thousands, were tortured and killed for the sake of uniformity and the glory of God. So, it’s a bit hard to be hopeful.

BTW, did you know that present research indicates that if the present trend continues, that by 2050, the majority religion in the U.S. will be Islam?

Peace,
Jerry+

Forgiveness. Uh oh!

The Gospel for last Sunday is a toughie. Forgiveness. Seven times seventy. Of course what Jesus meant is that there should be no end to our willingness to forgive those who sin against us. And a parable that says, and if you can’t do it, that is “forgive from the heart,” the Father will “hand you over.”

I’m in big trouble. In the first place, I can’t pull off that kind of forgiveness. And in the second place, I can’t believe God is that cruel.

My primary difficulty in the area of forgiveness is with those who have harmed me, but not only have not asked for forgiveness, but feel completely justified in what they have done. I’m not talking about the day to day kind of stuff. I can forgive all that. Hell, I screw up. I recognize it and I ask forgiveness. So I’m very able to see the frailty in others that results in their needing my forgiveness. So I can give it. Truly. From the heart.

But there have been those few who have irrevocably done me harm. Not many. Just enough. Those who had no clue they were doing it—no problem. It’s those who understood, or should have understood, that they were going to cause me serious harm and acted anyway. And felt righteous. Or indifferent. I’m stuck. I just can’t seem to find it in my heart to forgive them.
Which, as you can see, brings me to the second point. If I am to believe Jesus, then I am in deep crap. Maybe that’s why I just can’t believe God would be as Jesus describes him in this regard. In fact, the God I’m trying to believe in and have a relationship with would easily understand my human frailty and inadequacy and love me anyway. Perhaps that’s what I chose to believe since I can’t get past these other situations and it’s my “ace in the hole.” But I don’t really think so. I think God is not that kind of petty record keeper who is expecting us to show up with a clean record. If so, I’m in much worse trouble than I thought. And what is grace for anyway?

Peace?

Jerry+

9/11

Today is an anniversary and I couldn’t let the day go by without writing. Nine-eleven has been called this generation’s Pearl Harbor. I was barely a year old when Pearl was attacked, so I have no memories of it. I have watched hours and hours of videos and a couple of movies. It took both of my brother sinto the military for several years. My older brother fought in Europe, as had my father in WWI. My second brother missed combat, but it was a “luck of the draw” kind of thing. I became something of a WWII buff watching movies, TV shows and reading books over the years.

But 9/11 seems more real to me than all that.

Even so, in both cases, Americans pulled together as they seldom do to respond to these two despicable acts. We all sacrificed in WWII. Even though I was young, I remember rationing of gas and various foodstuffs like sugar. And I think there was no butter available for “the duration.” Nine-eleven differs in that way. Few of us made any kind of sacrifice. That is not to say we weren’t shaken and moved by what happened. But the continuing legacy is we complain about airport delays, suitcase searches, and restrictions on liquids when we fly and inconvenience at border crossings at Canada and Mexico.

Nine-eleven sent men and women to Afghanistan, and probably to Iraq as well. Unlike Vietnam, while we deplore the necessity, we support our troops. And certainly there have been sacrifices in those conflicts, sacrifices in full measure. But as chronological distance separates us from 9/11, it seems to me we have not just become disconnected from each other; we have become almost rabidly hostile to each other.

On 9/11/01, the parish I was a part of had an impromptu prayer service in the late afternoon. Over 500 hundred people came to pray and to be consoled. I noticed today as I went about my normal affairs, including lunch with a friend, life was so ordinary it is easy to think many forgot what day this is. I hate to think that may be true.

We must remember, not that we have enemies, but that bridges must always be our focus and reconciliation a national policy. As idealistic as that sounds, if we don’t try to do those two things, we will not only slide further apart, we will continue the growing sense of alienation on the international level that is beginning to be our lot. Neither of these two things can be good for us or for the world.

God bless all who carry wounds from that day and its aftermath. God forgive us for our lack of vision.

Jerry

Matthew 14:22-23

What happened to Peter as he walked on the water, heading toward Jesus? You know the story. He sees Jesus walking on the water and says, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” And hearing the command, he steps into the lake and heads toward Jesus. Then he notices the wind blowing strongly and begins to sink. What happened?

Did he “lose faith” as Jesus seems to say? “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” If he did, I think he lost faith in himself, not Jesus. I’ve seen children learning to do something for the first time, such as riding a skate board. In the midst of their success, they falter and fall. Is it a lack of practice? Or is it a sudden realization of how unnatural this act is or incredulity at their ability to do something that appears so hard. Some will be reluctant to try again. They’ve lost faith, as it were.

I think it’s pretty human to “notice the wind” that seems to often blow against us as we muddle through life. And when we do to lose confidence. The important thing seems to be what happens next? Do you sink as Peter did? Or do you duck your head into the wind and press on?

Pressing on is tough. It’s tough to get back up on the skateboard. It’s tough to get back on the bike. It’s tough to power through a troubled marriage, trying to recover what has been lost. It’s tough to push aside all those well intended people in our lives to tell us to “hang it up—stop beating your head against the wall.” But, so what? So it’s tough.

Peter might have felt very different about himself if he’d said, “Let me try again Jesus.” Who knows?

Peace,

Jerry+

School Daze

A return to the academic life is not without its ups and downs. Truthfully, I rarely feel more alive than when I’m teaching, so to be paid to do that every week is a real plus. I love the preparation, as tedious as it can sometimes be. I love the delivery, the classroom interaction.

The surprise on the face of students when they learn something unexpected and good.
On the down side, the seminary in which I teach has grown tremendously. So there are layers of people where their used to be a single person to deal with. Also, professors are expected to be able to use the new tools available in this 21st century environment. I’m down with that. I can use the computer, the computerized library catalog, the projector which allows the expected PowerPoint presentation in each class. But there are new tools—something called Blackboard. Ah. Not so easy.

Blackboard allows me, I’m told, to post a syllabus, handouts, and the like, as well as leave messages between classes for the students. To use Blackboard I have to have an account. I was sent to three different people to establish and account and learn how to use the system. Finally, a friendly professor colleague gave me the introductory lesson. Unfortunately, when I tried to use Blackboard from my home computer, my status was listed as Student rather than Instructor. Back to school for another attempt and another lesson from my colleague.

The “times” have made some things mandatory which were less so in the past. I, nor any student, may use gender specific language for God. God may not be “He.” Shoot. Can’t be “She” either. Which makes for some really awkward syntax from time to time. It’s not that I object. I think it’s a good idea in principle. However, since I believe God to be male and female, I sometimes want to speak of God as Mother or Her as well as Father or He. No dice. I’m sure I’ll slip.

One thing I was pleased to hear during my orientation was that it was time to clamp down on grade inflation. Funny. When I taught there in the 80s and early 90s, I was frequently questioned about the number of my students who were assigned Cs, Ds and even Fs. I was even indirectly accused of being a racist since some students who received those grades were minority students. To be more frank than I should in writing something that can easily be circulated and read by those who might wish me harm: the school had admitted older students without college degrees, some of whom couldn’t write a complete sentence. I believed it would have been racist for me to have treated them differently from other students who could write complete sentences. Not everyone bought that stance.

The politics are troubling too, but this is not the place to go into that. What I wonder is why I had forgotten about the various down sides to teaching when I agreed to return. I guess I thought the personal high and the chance to influence lives was worth it. And I still do. I’m just less tolerant than I need to be.

Peace

Jerry+ BTW: I love it when readers use the comment function to interact. Feel free!