Did he really say that?!

So it was our annual church (attempt at) official meeting last Sunday
after worship. Our treasurer stands up and shows a pie graph of
income and expenses. Then he holds up two cards and says "Remember
what the pastor said this morning? Green and tan, green and tan-- the
green cards are the Estimate of Giving cards for our Capital Campaign
and then tan cards are the Estimate of Giving Cards for our Annual
Operating Budget."

He continues (cranky, sarcastic voice)..."Well, everybody knows what a
Black and Tan is. And so I'm here to tell you 2009 is gunna be fewer
and fewer Black and Tans, and more and more Green and Tans, got it?!"

'Oh, my goodness,...' I moaned to myself. I threw my head face down
on the back of the pew in front of me. Peeking up, everyone under 30
looked and laughed at me. (He's 61 BTW...) I didn't tell him to say
it, and I wouldn't necessarily vetoed him saying it (if I'd had a clue
he was going there!). But.... did he REALLY say that?!

Shhhh...

Shhhhhhh…I don't know what I'm doing… 

Shhhh…. Be quiet—and don't tell anybody-- I re-realized today that I have NO idea what I'm doing as a pastor.  It's not that I don't know what I'm doing in the sense of "hey, what's up for ministry today?…" but more so--  "how in the heck did I get here?!" and "shhhh… don't tell anyone I don't know what I'm doing 'cuz they'll come and pull the plug on me!" 

I say this cuz…well…. (personal confession coming) before becoming a pastor of a church I don't think I attended worship more than 50 times in my life.  Now, to some of you that might sound like a lot—but let's remember there are 52 weeks in a year and I'm now running this place with people looking to ME to know what in the heck to do—like "REALLY" what to do (family, relationships, addictions, health concerns, life, death,… you get the idea…). 

I went to church for a few high holidays with my family as a kid.  Went to church a few times during college and sang in a gospel choir.  Guess I did go to Mass with some Catholic boyfriends too (does that really count, tho? I wasn't really concentrating on the divine—but more earthly things like hot boyfriends).  And then the biggie—I finally went to seminary and got placed as a pastoral intern (required that I attend church).  Lived in France and Latin America and slept in a lot on Sunday mornings—no church-going there. 

Then—I came to Trinity United Methodist Church in Madison, WI and got placed as the one and only pastor to lead a flock of 100.   

Were they crazy?  Who put me here—and what were they thinking?! What kind of stunt was that?!  I wake up on mornings like today and think that some reality-show host is going to jump out at me and tell me that the gig is up and it's all already posted on YouTube—my pseudo life ruined.  Darn, I'll think, I'll have had a good run at it, too. 

But—since I have gotten away with it for seven years—(turning slightly professorial here..) let me shed a little light on the topic.  Truth is—I don't think we need or maybe even want life-long church people running the church.  If you want some grim facts—google United Methodist Church and words like "attendance" or "membership"—our denomination has been plummeting for decades.  "Doing church" as usual hasn't worked—and these have been smart, capable "churched" people.  I could write a whole sermon here, but I think congregations could stand to have other outsiders (clueless folks like me) join in and move things around, shake things up a bit.  Not that we can or will solve everything—but at least things would be "different," as we Midwesterners say.  Not necessarily good, or bad—but different.  And because-- even "different" looks better than "dead."  Oh, and by the way—we love Jesus just as much—we just met him yesterday. 

That's about all I have to say about that.  And don't forget – shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  This is our little secret—ok?

General Conference #4

(Blogging from General Conference...)

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her rainbow-colored-stole and grabbed her hand. The words had just been said "I believe the body is ready for a vote…" by the chairperson and tears were running down my cheeks.

The vote was one of the most important and critical of my three days of observation, and possibility the last 36 years of United Methodist Church. It was a vote to take the words "Homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching" out of the Social Principles of the Book of Discipline since the time they were placed there in 1972 (at least so I hear…).

It turns out that the woman's name was Vicky (something). The vote didn't end up being at that very moment—there were a couple of pathetic delay tactics by the Fundies. But Vicky and I had a chance to introduce ourselves (since I didn't know her before I grabbed her hand) and exchange a few stressed looks/ googling eyes with others in the gallery before the real vote took place.

And it happened. It really happened.

The vote was 39-28. And – those hateful words were changed out for some "middle-of-the-road" language (that wasn't strong enough as I would have liked) that doesn't condemn and states that we, as United Methodists, actually disagree. Wow. Actual honesty. How refreshing.

I hope that you will pray for our church in the next few days. Let's pray that as this resolution moves to the plenary in the next few days, there will be more Methodists who will have their hearts strangely warmed.

http://www.generalconference2008.org/2008/04/petition-on-par.html

General Conference Blog #3

(Blogging from General Conference...)

 

I know now why I came here. 

It was to break bread.  At 1am with the excluded of the church.

It was beautiful and amazing.  I had been drumming since the mid-evening with a group of young United Methodists called MOSAIC—Methodists blah-blah-acronym for the All-Inclusiveness of the Church (or something like that).  It's the young adult branch of MFSA—Methodist Federation for Social Action.   I had casually made plans to go out with Beth (Stokes!–A much better surname than) Jones, my old seminary roommate.  But then I got caught up outside the Convention Center with a group of drummers from MOSAIC and other affiliated UM-related GLBT groups.  They had started a 24-hour-long drumming protest to call for inclusion in the Church.  And then I couldn't leave.  Till 1am.

 Some of the chants were really funny like "Hey, hey, ho, ho, homophobia's got to go!" and my favorite "We're here, we're Methodist, get used to it!"  That one then moved into "We're queer, we're Methodist, get used to it!"  We also sang Barney, the purple dinosaur's song "I love you, you love me…" and it ends "Won't you say you love me too?!"  (Or not,.,hint, hint)  It didn't hurt to sing "I am the church, you are the church" and "We are marching in the light of God."  We did those for the traditionalists.

But the night wore on and I just kept drumming.  (Stokes stood me up).  Great folks, great sentiment, great proclamation lived in that circle.  There was playfulness and joy, and… unfortunately, bigoted people with Bible tormenting us (not Methodists—some fundamentalist group from the area).  It did get a little scary, but thankfully the bike cops moved in and told the counter-protesters couldn't harass or intimidate us.  We stayed on the grass; they had to stay on the sidewalk.  The Texas Rangers actually helped us! 

The cops finally decided it was better for us to move over to be in front of the Convention Center, while the women in long dresses holding "God hates homosexuals" signs, the young boys whose mothers brow-beat them into going out to counter-protest with them, and the men in their 20's for whom it's very convenient to say that women should be silent in the church, had to stay on the other side.  (Whew, cuz they were pretty creepy).

That was the time when we moved from proclamation to sacrament.  I stayed with a handful of young adults—many of whom who'd been out all day in the sun drumming.  They were gay, allies of the gay community, Christians, and sunburned, all of them, praying for change in the Church. 

One of the men approached me and asked me if I knew anyone who was clergy in the group.  I told him that I was.  He asked me if I would officiate for Holy Communion.  And I did.  And it was beautiful and amazing.  It was the most holy and awe-inspiring communion I'd ever presided over.  It was apple juice and crackers and a couple slices of wheat bread.  It was the richest meal I've maybe ever had. 

The order of for communion was an order of drumming, and so the soft rhythmic drumming that had pulsed all afternoon continued into the early morning.  I offered words of "Hosanna, hosanna, in the highest" and the people responded with "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!"  All to the soft, pounding rhythm of sore palms on the head of a drum. 

A dear gay friend of mine was there.  He'd been called to the ministry 25 years ago; now he serves in a para-church ministry setting.  He's been a friend and a mentor to me.  I was humbled to serve him the Body of Christ.  I still feel silently humiliated that he can't serve me…  He didn't mention a word of hurt or regret and loved me with a warm hug. 

We cried, we shared in true joy, we broke bread (cracker) and it was in an honest, open, and affirming moment.  Under the swirling stars of night we lifted our hands and heads back to the dark sky to celebrate all that is good and truthful.  It was beautiful.  It was the first time that I felt really honest in saying that "all were welcome" at the table and not like a embarrassed hypocrite.  Praise be to God.

Genereal Conference Blog #2

(Blogging from General Conference...)

 

So we're singing.  It is said that Methodists are "a singing people."  It is the only moment in this day that I've sensed the Spirit here.   We're in a tense moment, waiting for translation to happen in committee in Swahili and French for the international delegates on a tight vote.

AND…(breath) the powerful moment just ended.  (Boy, that was short-lived).  With a harsh-pitched woman's voice making fun of Charles Wesley's lyrics of O for a Thousand Tongues, "When we've been there a thousand years"—to say, "it seems like this is taking a thousand years, doesn't it?!"  Ha ha ha.  Cackle cackle.

It was one of those awkward moments where the room has been full of tension and she was trying to break it, but… the joke fell flat.

Anyway, again, I find myself observing in the sub-section of the Board of Church and Society called "Human Sexuality."  And yes, they're debating (for three days, from 7am-11pm) the morality of homosexuality.

This is annoying, because, I believe the incompetent chairperson was nominated as a puppet by biblical literalists.  However, the more annoying time was last night's division of subcommittees.  The committee was divided into four sections and the delegates were asked to move to the side of the room to which they had interest.  So, three-quarters of the room moved to the one corner where homosexuality would be hotly debated.  As the numbers got shifted, there were only six women- one white woman as the chair, two African-American women and three from Africa.  Of the 17 men, then, 15 of them are what a new friend, Katie, calls "double-whities" (white males with white hair).  Yikes.

Now, let's be clear.  I have nothing against old white men.  I'm married to a white man and someday he'll be an old white man.  I'll love him no less, and hopefully even more than I do now.  But what happened last night was different—it was an Old Boys Club reunion and there was a lot of schmaltzy smiles, pressing the flesh and "man pats" with old guys in golf shirts who smell like Old Spice.  Eww.

That was the moment that I was afraid was going to happen, after having heard my Pennsylvania colleague's words of hopefulness yesterday.  I was skeptical to jump on his wagon of hope (wow—am I sounding like Hillary here?!) and last night I was unfortunately proven right, at least for the moment.

But, since I don't want to be so sour, I'm going to quit writing for now.  I'll start again tomorrow, afresh (after having gone out with some friends who are always up for a good time and a good laugh).  This life as a reserve delegate is pretty good.  I get to see the action, take no responsibility, and sleep in while everyone has to be seated for debate at 7am.  Later!

PS—Stay tuned for information on the Spotted Owl Society tomorrow.  I know you can't wait.

General Conference Blog #1

(Blogging from Gen. Conference…)

"This is different, (pause with cautious breathe)…this is different…" he said, nodding his head in way that seemed he was almost convincing himself with his words.

'He' is Ray Hamill, lay delegate—in fact, delegation leader– for the Wyoming Conference (a small annual conference that overlaps the parts of the states of New York and Pennsylvania).

This is his FOURTH General Conference. And rather than outright cynicism—he expressed hope to my friend, Beth, and me. He said he was experiencing one of those "something big" kind of sensations. (Your eyebrows should be raised with intrigue here).

Wow. (Insert my own 'pause' here). Hope?! Hope from a middle-aged, gray haired, balding guy—that THIS General Conference could offer hope to the Church?!

I have to say—his words impressed (and startled) me. I'm impressed by this Baby Boomer, who forthrightly acknowledged that his generation talked the talk of change, but lost the walk a long time ago—in the world and in the Church. They'd run away with leadership, money (now healthcare too) and left little for the X and Y's of future generations. There's a lot he could be discouraged about… but he's not. The Church, he thought, could change and we might see it here. We could be hopeful. Things could be different.

Yikes. I'm liken' this (his words…)—and didn't think I would (the outcome of the Conference…).

I had basically prepared myself to be very discouraged and disappointed by this Conference—order, politicking, bickering for the institution. But even so, I'd definitely been excited about coming, reuniting with old friends, and eating out a lot (and drinks late at night). But the idea that this Conference could be "one of those"—that every few decades (or even centuries) comes along and makes history—was not predestined in my thousand-page booklet for General Conference.

So, before I get to giddy… We'll wait. Right now I'm typing while we wait for the elections of leadership for a very important sub-committee, "Church and Society II." It's the social justice arm of the UMC. Who wins this election will be the chairperson for the next few days and will guide, monitor (and block) discussion around and among other things, like abortion and homosexuality and the Church. I do have hope, but it's timid.

So… albeit exciting… I think I'll wait. Just a little more. I would REALLY like to be proven completely wrong.

Until then I'll remember a nice moment coming back from lunch today for plenary. There were about 4,000 United Methodists singing and clapping in this huge convention center to the song "We Are Family"— to celebrate the 40 year anniversary of the coming together of the Evangelical United Brethren Church and the Methodist Episcopal Church—to become the United Methodist Church. Methodists are an endearing, funny crowd. I saw all these middle-aged people trying to sway to the beat and sing a pop song… It was a fond flashback to times when I was embarrassed of my parents as a teenager.

If you're interested in checking out more—see if you can't download/stream the Young Adult address from this morning. That was the BEST thing of the Conference yet. Check out this other one as well from the Connectional Table—it might not be as uplifting, but…. Ya know, it is what it is…www.umc.org/stateofthechurch