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

Why I Swear

I swear.

I know that’s not so cool with some folks. Some might not like it because it’s not "proper." Others find themselves in a generation where it just wasn’t (and still isn’t) ok. Others think there’s something prohibiting it in the Ten Commandments (wrong). Then there are those who are horrified by the thought that a pastor would say such things (well, here I am…oops?!).

So why do I swear? I think I swear because I don’t have tattoos. I think I swear because I don’t have piercings or wear bikinis. I think I swear to express myself. You know, to be me. I’m not into that other stuff; but for some reason I’m into swearing.

You could say that it’s to separate myself from the crowd—not in a sense that I have to prove something—but as a way to distinguish myself. It could also be my sorry attempt at pushing the envelope, trying to be edgy.

I guess I’m not even that cool to try to be cool. My mouth just flies sometimes and unless in inappropriate settings, I haven’t seen the need to control it. It’s my way to be real. Oh, yeah. And I’m human.

About three years ago I was leading a camping weekend out at one of our United Methodist camps. A new member of the church sat down with me on the dock and the two of us had a great, deep conversation about church, pastors, denominations and all the "stuff" that we’ve seen or put up with over the years. It only seemed natural to come up with some four-lettered words describing how pastors or priests have abused, churches have failed, and denominations don’t get it.

This new member halted our conversation. "Did you just say what I think you said?" he asked. Feeling pretty comfortable from our talk and the vibes I got from the guy, I said "Yeah…!" and shared with him my thoughts about getting real and being real as a person and Christian (expressions, thoughts, language and all!)—and yes, even as clergy.

"A pastor that swears--- that is so refreshing!" he said. Then he demonstrated his own command on the language with some new vocabulary and we continued our talk without holding back or feeling constricted.

So let’s be clear. I don’t swear around little kids or grandmas or drop the F-bomb in worship. But I do believe in being real, expressing myself in appropriate times and places in a way that people can relate to and in a way they’d even use themselves. I believe that we get too caught up in the little stuff (ever noticed how short those words are?) and lose sight of the big stuff. Like Jesus. Like God. And like being faithful. Those are the things that I’ll do my best not to disrespect.

In thinking about this blog, I wrote a former professor of mine from seminary, Bruce Birch—he’s the Dean at Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, DC. He was the one who taught us that "Do not take thy Lord’s name in vain" had nothing to do about swearing (which as a 23 year-old who liked to swear thought was the coolest thing she’d ever learned in higher ed).

Below you can see his response to my question about "fowl language." I made a little mistake with spelling—should have been "foul" language… Anyway—you’ll enjoy his response—he’s the best and funniest teacher I ever had (even at times when it’s at my own expense…!).

The Ten Commandments and Language
The Ten Commandments given to Moses lay down important guidelines for our lives that are still relevant today. Of course, the difference between ancient times and our own means that some translation and interpretation is necessary. A good example of this is the third commandment "You shall not take the Lord's name in vain." Traditionally this has been taken to be a commandment to forbid swearing. Thus, it would be a commandment opposed to "foul" language. Considerable confusion has been cast over the matter, however, by the recent article published by Prof. Sidney A. Dumbcluck. He reminded readers of the overwhelmingly rural background of the Old Testament and proposed that this commandment was really intended to prohibit "fowl" language. The chicken, as were many other animals, was revered by the Canaanites. Of course, the "fowl" image of such birds was forbidden as an object of worship. This makes the third commandment a direct outgrowth of the second commandment forbidding idolatry. It should be read "You shall not use the Lord's name in a "vane," referring to the use of the rooster image in eathervanes. Such association of the Lord's name with a "fowl" image is strictly forbidden. Now as clever as Prof. Dumbcluck's hypothesis seems, it is entirely wrongheaded and incorrect. The commandment does indeed have to do with "foul" language rather than "fowl" language, but both Prof. Dumbcluck and the traditional interpreters have missed an important hermeneutical clue. The entire Bible begins with a reference to baseball--"In the big inning..." Gen. 1:1a. Thus, the commandment has to do with our response when life gives us a sweet pitch right down the center of the plate and the best we can do is "foul" it off. We miss our chance at hitting the home run grooved for us by God and hoped for by all those family members and parishioners rooting for our leadership at the plate. Of course, this often leads to "foul" language of the coarser variety so swearing and "fouled" pitches are indeed, at times, related. The Decalogue ("log" here may refer to a baseball bat, thus, "ten bats"--God's grace is more generous than the three strikes usually allowed) is still clearly relevant to our modern lives as we attempt to follow God's will for our lives. There is no need for "foul" language when we "foul" the opportunities given to us by God. Our efforts need not be in "vain" if we stand in and boldly take our swings, assuming that we resist the temptation to chicken out.
Have a great
day!
Bruce

Idiocy

I went on vacation. I’m back and I’m feeling particularly spunky.

So what am I feel spunky about?

How about Pope Benedict declaring all Protestant churches “defective” because somehow (he believes) we don’t fall in the line of apostolic succession? (If you don’t even know what apostolic succession is, that’s ok, cuz basically the rest of this blog is not about weighty doctrinal language but about poking fun at idiocy).

Articles and blogs have had Protestant leaders getting their underwear in a bunchy about the Pope calling us defective. Well, what’s so wrong with that?! We ARE defective! The point that my comrades missed about the idiocy of the Pope’s statement is that he fails to see how the Catholic Church is defective TOO! We are ALL defective.

It’s not that one church has it “right” and the other/s don’t. NEITHER of us, NONE of us do! You know that line in the Lord’s Prayer that goes “YOUR kingdom come, YOUR will be done…” No Christian or church has completely figured it out yet. That’s why when we talk about Christ’s second coming—it’s not here yet! Cuz if WE’RE to be the BODY of Christ, it’s not until we act fully as he would have us do that the kingdom will come! Jesus isn’t going to skateboard down on some cloud and zap everyone into good behavior someday. It’s up to us, his followers—who are fallible, often unknowing people—to try to live by God’s grace to be Christ’s body on this earth—to make the world, the “kingdom,” as God and Jesus would have it to be.

In sum,… I would have liked to have said (and thought) that we were a little closer to the kingdom coming before the Pope’s latest snafu. But looking at world-wide church leadership and its complete lack of self-awareness… Hmm… guess two thousand years since Jesus lived isn’t long enough for us to have figured it out. I’ll be optimistic: give us another thousand.

What Evangelism IS

So I beat one of my parishioners with a Bible in worship yesterday. OK, yes, he knew it was coming and he agreed to it.

In my sermon I was talking about what evangelism is, and what evangelism is not. Yeah—the Bible thumping, Bible beating was a demonstration of what evangelism is NOT.

As mainline Protestants we’ve let too many fundamentalists and so-called “evangelicals” run away with this word and its true Greek meaning: good news. They’ve stolen our good news and tried to beat people up—maybe not physically—but certainly verbally and theologically with the Bible. Especially our GBLT brothers and sisters.

The Gospel of John, chapter 4:7-30 tells the story of Jesus encountering the Samaritan woman at the well. Sharing the good news with her wasn’t an attack by Jesus-- beating her up with the latest papyrus copy of the Hebrew Scriptures. Instead of a one-time verbal attack or domination of dialogue, Jesus takes a five-step approach to sharing the good news he has for her life. He INITIATES contact with the woman by meeting her at the well (a place where he was crossing cultural, linguistic, and sexual boundaries by talking with her). He engages in CONVERSATION with her (the text is great here—this is one of the handful of times that the gospels are really drawn-out in their dialogue). They both share in REFLECTION of the thoughts and opinions of the other (what a refreshing way for us to consider talking to someone about our faith lives?!). The Samaritan woman is RE-DIRECTED, physically (heads back to the city) and spiritually, after her encounter with Jesus. The woman is REJUVENATED—she’s given new energy and new life by learning about the “living water” and she runs back to tell others. Those who listen to her are so excited about what they’ve heard, they then leave the city and turn to find Jesus for themselves.

Conclusion?

What evangelism IS according to Jesus:

Purposeful initiation of contact, engagement in conversation, dialogue that encourages thoughtful reflection, redirection of life after a mystical encounter, and living and sharing a rejuvenated life because of the experience.

Blog #2

So I think I could really get into this blogging thing. Especially the stream of consciousness, “unfiltered” nature to it all.

This blogging stuff is basically what I always wanted to say in seminary (and often did, with my friends) but had no one “out there” to hear it or read it. Lucky you! I always thought that some sort of Thursday night TV drama would have loved to get a script out of the thoughts (and actions) of those dorm room hours…Yeah, THEY’RE the ones offering moral leadership in our churches now…:0!

But I digress. The point here is that I think there’s a whole new generation of excited young, faithful people in and OUTSIDE of the church who are aching to change the world. Those who hate the war we’re in; sickened by the pain our nation has caused; helplessly sympathetic to those who we’ve wounded and killed. And that’s not to mention global warming, growing economic disparity, child abuse and neglect…

We’re people who want a tide of change but who don’t see being “Yes Men” to “The Man” to be the way to do it. And I can see that…as I am clergy of a mainline denomination-- I am the Man (or Wo-man?!…) and I’m not always pleased with myself, where I am and what I’m supporting by being part of the status quo. I feel a tide, too. But it’s more often a drowning, not a “ride the wave,” sensation. Things are going the wrong way in the church and yet…. the emotional, physical, communal energy to shift it is like…yikes… just about too much.

So I declare myself irreverent to the need to be reverent—at least to the stuff that does not need reverence--the way things have been “just cuz” or because that’s the way things are “supposed to be”-- the systems that sustain, the meetings and institutions that kill—anything that just constantly deadens mind, energy and hope. I want to be reverent to the big stuff. Ya know-- like God. Like Jesus. The rest needs to take a back seat.

And now that I look at the clock…it’s past midnight, so…

that’s all I have to say about that.