Sunday, July 10, 2016

Now is the time for the hard work of mercy

A sermon for the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost  (Proper 8C) - Luke 10:25-37

One of the many things I love about Easton is that we get to celebrate Independence Day twice! I love how we get to get our day off, have the cook outs and the fireworks on July 4th and then on the Sunday after, get to do it all over again!

But this has been a complicated week. Between the 4th of July and our celebration of that first public reading of the Declaration of Independence, we have had some very sad and tragic things going onowhere.

First came the news came two more senseless and unnecessary killings of African American males by police officers took place, one in Baton Rouge and another outside of St. Paul, Minnesota, reawakening and last summer’s apparent epidemic of violent encounters between police and people of color. So by mid-week we were grieving and praying for Alton Sterling, Philando Castille, and we were praying for justice and an end to violence.

Following the two killings, many peaceful demonstrations and public prayer vigils happened around the country, bringing to attention the issues of unwarranted violence against people of color, and gun violence in general. And during one of those peaceful #BlackLivesMatter demonstrations in Dallas, Texas, where the police were actually supporting and protecting  the demonstrators, a lone gunman shot and wounded seven officers and killed five others.

We pause today to remember those officers and their families in our prayers, and the seven officers wounded in the line of duty. We remember transit police officer Brent Thompson; Dallas police officers Patrick Zamarripa; Michael Krol; Lorne Ahrens; and Michael Smith.

Let me say their names again: Alton Sterling, Philando Castille, Brent Thompson, Patrick Zamarripa; Michael Krol, Lorne Ahrens, Michael Smith.

A former Texas police chief and Episcopal Deacon named Alberto Melis posted a photo taken in Belo Garden Park, Dallas, and Tweeted by Dallas PD during the protests march before the shootings, showing a Dallas police officer standing with Black Lives Matters marchers. Deacon Melis wrote: “We are a polarized nation. We sit and live in our echo chambers, listening only to those who think like us and listening only to what reinforces our beliefs and values … Since the shootings I've read comments which range in the polar extremes of blaming "Black Lives Matter" to "Chickens coming home to roost." Really? Really... But I've read countless comments written from within the depths of people aching for our communal and personal loss. Indeed … Look at this photo. THIS is our nation. Beyond the hate, fear and discord, exacerbated by the ugly metrics of an election year—this is still us, this is our nation. We are in this together ..."

This violence did not happen in a vacuum. The soirces are deeply ingrained in all of us.

It arose out of the deeply ingrained mistrust that many white folk carry around in our hearts for our African American neighbors…you know what I mean right? The pause, the check in our step, that we experience when we see a person of color, especially if they are young and male.

It comes from a context where black parents have to teach their sons and daughters in how to survive an encounter with the police.

It lives in a  context where same sex couples dare not hold hands in public as I can do with my wife.

It comes from a context where every woman must be aware of how men interact with them.

When I started planning this service with my colleagues several weeks ago, I thought it would be good for us to listen to some of our forebears and recall that patriotism is not just a love of country but a duty and responsibility to live and work together. To remind ourselves that we citizens are in this together.

Then all this happened.

Thank God that the Revised Common Lectionary gives us this Gospel for today, a Gospel shared by all our churches, and that is Jesus’ story of the Good Samaritan.

We all know this story. Everybody knows what a Good Samaritan is: it is a person who goes out of his way to help. In some big cities, the tow trucks who come and help you when your car breaks down in rush hour are called “Samaritans.” We have Good Samaritan laws and Good Samaritan hospitals. We all know that any charitable act makes us Good Samaritans. Even people who only use Gideon Bibles for hotel coasters have heard the story.

The story contrasts the two who did not help with the one who did. To Jesus’ audience, the most righteous pass by the injured man, but the one we would not choose, the outsider, is the one who comes to help.

But there is more going on. Dr. Amy-Jill Levine, a New Testament professor at Vanderbilt University, who is also Jewish, reminds us that Rabbi Jesus tells this short story in answer to a question “how do I inheret eternal life?” Jesus asks the person, a lawyer of the Jewish law, what he thinks. He says that the heart of the law is to love God with all our heart, soul, and mind, and our neighbor as ourselves.

This means that the man is part and parcel of the movement in 1st Century Judaism to move the heart of Judaism out of the Temple and into the synagogue, from sacrifice to daily faithfulness and obedience that comes from the heart. Jesus is pleased.

But who is my neighbor?

The question is not mere self-justification.

There were those in 1st Century Judaism that believed that there were two standards for ethics and morals. One for inside the community, how we act among ourselves, and one for how we act around Gentiles.
So which is it? Do I love just the people in my tribe, my neighborhood, my denomination, my political party, my race, or my nationality? Does charity both begin –and stay—at home?

Or is love for everyone, including—especially—those people that I would never hang around with: the stranger, the other, the outcast, the outsider, the oppressor?
In a world where Judaism was moving out into a pagan, secular world called the Roman Empire, this was a very big question. Should we stay in our little silos, or go into the world?

This question is still with us today.

To answer the question, Jesus tells the story.

Imagine that you are going from Jerusalem to Jericho when you are set upon by brigands who rob you and leave you for dead. A priest and a Levite see you and cross to the other side of the road and hurry on their way. But a third man sees you, helps and cares for you. When you wake up you discover that this man who helped is your worst enemy…a Samaritan.

“So,” Jesus asks. “Who was your neighbor?”

The one who showed you mercy, that’s who.

The point of the parable is not neighborliness, but mercy. The story is not a moral tale about being nice but teaches an ethic that says God’s love applies to all people, at all times, in all places.

Mercy is intentional. It is hard work. Mercy requires sacrifice. This is not Mr. Rogers (or our view of Mr. Rogers…who actually taught the hard work and joy of mercy to children in wonderfully gentle yet subversive ways!) To love God with your whole being and to love your neighbor means that you must love and show mercy. That, for Jesus, was the heart of the law.
So…in a world of violence, racism, division, what do we do?

Don’t walk away. Don’t avert your eyes.  Show mercy. Dare to offer acts of practical, life-changing compassion. Trust that God bigger than our fear of the Other, the Stranger, the Different.

Mercy is much more than helping one stranger on the road. Mercy is coming to see that the whole Jericho road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life's highway.

Mercy is more than flinging a coin to a beggar; it is not haphazard and superficial. It comes to see that the world that produces beggars needs restructuring.

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King reminded us that violence only brings about violence. That darkness does not dispel darkness but only light can push away the night. We are called to be the ones to bring mercy and justice to all God’s people.

Our land and our people are hurting today. Do not cross the road, but be citizens of God's heavenly Jerusalem. Show mercy.
Do not cross the road. Show mercy. We must confront our deep seated racism and turn anew and join with Jesus in making God’s reign known to all.

Do not avert your gaze, but instead be the Samaritan who shows mercy. Seek real conversation and engage—really know—the people who are different, who scare us, who are other.

Do not walk past, spending your energy and focus on choosing sides and enemies. Instead, like the Samaritan choose the side of compassion and healing. Choose mercy.

On this Heritage Day, we celebrate our country and our city. We are called to see the pain of the world, the injury of our neighbor, the division in our culture and choose what kind of patriots we will be As the prophet Micah says , “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.”

Don’t walk past.

With a steady gaze, and a steady beat, in this moment choose to walk the way of Jesus, the way of mercy.

Monday, June 20, 2016

Looking evil in the eye

A sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 7C. June 19, 2016 - Luke 8:26-39

Don’t you wish sometimes that you could just gather up all the evil in the world and just dump it into a rocket-ship and fire it into the sun or something? I don’t know about you, but this has been one of those weeks for me.
In the gospel today, when Jesus is confronted by a man who was possessed by demons and it sure seems like Jesus bundled up all that evil and sent it away, into a herd of swine who ran headlong into the water to drown. After a week of mass shootings, violence, and all kinds of hateful language and controversy, I sure would like to send all this evil far, far away!
We Episcopalian Christians take evil seriously. We are called to know its name and look evil in the eye. We are called to speak up and not be silent when evil enters the room. Every time we baptize someone, the candidates, or their parents and sponsors, have to answer two questions: “Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?” And: “Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?”
That doesn’t leave us much room does it? Some people say “I don’t cross my fingers when I say the creed.” I wonder how many people cross their fingers when they make these two renunciations?
The spiritual powers that rebel against God and corrupt and destroy the creatures of God appear mainly through fear and hatred.  These are not just emotions, but a spiritual state. It is very easy to be tempted to confront evil with more evil…to pile on fear in response to fear, to meet prejudice with prejudice,violence with violence. That’s because everybody is against evil but very few know what to do about it!
I am intrigued by the various responses to evil in today’s Gospel. 

There is Jesus who, when confronted with a madman who screams at and threatens people, who throws himself to the ground and roams among the dead in a cemetery, looks evil in the eye and forces the demons, through his calm clarity, to speak its name and flee.
Then there were the people in the village who tried to contain evil the old fashioned way: by force. By the possessed man broke every leather strap and broke every bound and ran loose among them. Trying to tame evil by force failed.
And then there were the people who were more afraid of Jesus’ power to confront evil than they were of the demons he confronted! They were, perhaps, grateful for the peace and quiet, but still asked Jesus to leave because God knows what other apple carts Jesus might upset. They were content to live with the evil around them as long as life was predictable.
One of the difficulties this week was how hard it was to name the evil visited upon Orlando. Instead of naming the shooting for what it was, an open, unashamed attack on LGBTIQ people, we gave it a general name: terrorism. Instead of ministering the victims pain and the fear of that community, we said that it was an attack on us all. We argued about whether it was really the worst mass killing in our history. All of these distancing tactics are poor attempts to fight evil on its own terms, and evil always breaks loose.
All too often, we put up with small evils as if that is the way things are, are horrified when someone takes these beliefs to a horrible conclusion. We act as if one has nothing to do with the other...until it's too late. 

It has become a cultural ritual, hasn't it? Someone picks up a firearm and kills a bunch of people. We go through a cycle of rage. We go through various exercises to frame the meaning...terrorism...gun legislation...seeking a motive...burying the dead...finger pointing. And when it's all done, our leaders have done...nothing. To confront evil effectively, we must look it in the eye, name it for what it is. But when we do, we become scared because we are afraid of how it might change us. So we settle for half-measures and simplistic solutions.

But this is not new.
Not long ago, white Americans decried the lynching of their black neighbors but protected the laws, customs, and social rituals of racism…as if one had nothing to do with the other.
We hear people decry sexual violence but uphold a social structure the diminishes women, as if one had nothing to do with the other.
We hear people openly mourn the dead at the Pulse, while they continue to deny full equal protection under the law for LGBT persons, and preach theologies that turn these persons into second-class Christians, as if these two have nothing to do with each other.
A hero of mine was a Lutheran Pastor named Martin Niemoller who, after the Nazi Party took power stood in his Berlin pulpit and said “Herr Hitler, God is my Fuhrer!” I have always admired his courage and clarity. But my hero was not immune to half-measures. The was a time when he also used the phrase "Jewish problem" in his preaching, but instead of concentration camps and Jewish laws, he preferred conversion to Christianity as "the Solution." It was a blind spot, a kind of myopia in an otherwise clear vision. It would not be until 1963, long after the war, years after his own arrest, and confinement to a concentration camp before Pastor Niemoller publicly confessed to his own anti-Semitism. For all his courage and resolve, it took that long for him to come to terms with his part in what he came to fight. 
That same year, 1963, Martin Luther King went to Birmingham, Alabama, and was arrested for peacefully protesting segregation. Some local pastors—including Episcopal clergy—wrote him and asked him to tone down his rhetoric and stop the protests. King wrote from his jail cell “how long shall we wait in the face of injustice?" 
But just as the Gerasenes could not contain their demon-filled man with mere straps and chains, so we cannot contain evil with pretty words or half measures.
Jesus was not distracted by the evil but sees it for what it is…He even dialogues with it! But he stays focused on healing the man possessed instead of playing evil’s deadly game. The demons can’t take it! They flee from the man and away from Jesus into that herd of swine.
What drove these demons out of the man? What made life unbearable for those demons that Jesus faced? It was the power of Jesus’ love that made these demons want to take up residence somewhere else! Jesus was doing the things that evil hates!
That is what Jesus is teaching us during this terrible week: if you want to cast out demons, do the thing that evil hates.
Jesus shows us, in his unflinching encounter with a legion of demons and on his journey to the cross, that it is God’s power and God’s authority that enables him to confront evil on God’s terms. By simply living and doing what he was called to do; by teaching, healing, and being a companion to the outcast he did all the things that evil hates…he drove evil crazy! They wanted to run away! When Jesus was crucified, it looked as if evil won. But in fact evil was defeated. Forever.
And through of the cross and resurrection God remakes creation. It is through Jesus, and our participation in God's redemptive work that we discover over and over again that what the Apostle Paul said is true: "As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female [..and I should add here is no black and white, gay and straight!] for all of you are one in Christ Jesus." 
While we are justly horrified at the actions of an angry man who uses religious words to cover his evil, the response of people to the violence is even more remarkable. We see evil defeated in thousands of great and small ways.
We saw it in every candle lit, every rainbow flag flown, every act of love, every grieving person hugged and cared for, in every pint of blood donated and ever frightened person embraced. Once again, one man chose to do unspeakable evil. And once again, when the chips were down, thousands upon thousands chose to do the good.
And maybe, just maybe, this will be a repentance moment for all the churches that have said “hate the sin but the love the sinner” while gay and lesbian people face violence and injustice…married on Saturday and fired on Monday, beat up in bars... but we must work to repent daily of the kind of half-hearted response to evil that mourns the dead while we continue to make God's love and the Church's sacraments conditional, or  who are declared by their very being to be somehow “incompatible” with Christian teaching by their churches.
Jesus did not meet the demon-filled man with half-hearted theology, but looked evil in the eye and drove it away. Once again, we are called to live our baptismal promise to resist evil with love. To put aside weak-kneed, make-do theology and platitudes, but to look evil in the eye, calmly confront evil with the things that evil hates, speak clearly to evil, and, with the power of Jesus, make evil flee.
I wish we could sweep up all the evil in all the world and send it off in a rocket-ship, far, far away. But you know what? God beat us to it! Jesus has already defeated evil and put death to flight on the cross and in his resurrection. When we do as Jesus told the man he healed to return to where we live and “declare how much God is doing,” we are showing that no matter how much hate, violence, cynicism, or fear is out there, we have, through our baptisms, the Eucharist, and the power of the Holy Spirit in this community, the power cast out evil in wonderful, surprisingly practical ways of compassion, clarity, holiness and calm.

Tuesday, June 07, 2016

The heart of Christian leadership is servanthood

A Sermon at the ordination of Dale T. Grandfield to the Sacred Order of Deacons, June 4, 2016
Trinity Episcopal Church, Easton, Pennsylvania.

Once upon a time, a seminary classmate of mine, who is now on the faculty of a certain seminary in a certain city, walked into a classroom full of eager, young junior year seminarians in one of their first classes and wrote on the chalkboard “Ordination is demotion.”

Today is a good day to think about Christian leadership, and how it is different than other kinds of leadership and how, you, Dale, and we, the gathered People of God, might live that out.

Simon Sinek is right now on my top ten list of people who think about leadership and groups. He has a book called “Leaders Eat Last” and in it, he tells this story about Captain William Swenson who was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his actions on September 8, 2009:
On that day, a column of American and Afghan troops were making their way through a part of Afghanistan to help protect a group of government officials, a group of Afghan government officials, who would be meeting with some local village elders. The column came under ambush, and was surrounded on three sides, and amongst many other things, Captain Swenson was recognized for running into live fire to rescue the wounded and pull out the dead. One of the people he rescued was a sergeant, and he and a comrade were making their way to a medevac helicopter.
And what was remarkable about this day is, by sheer coincidence, one of the medevac medics happened to have a GoPro camera on his helmet and captured the whole scene on camera. It shows Captain Swenson and his comrade bringing this wounded soldier who had received a gunshot to the neck. They put him in the helicopter, and then you see Captain Swenson bend over and give him a kiss before he turns around to rescue more.Sinek asks the question:
…where do people like that come from? What is that? That is some deep, deep emotion, when you would want to do that. There's a love there, and I wanted to know why…? You know, in the military, they give medals to people who are willing to sacrifice themselves so that others may gain. In business, we give bonuses to people who are willing to sacrifice others so that we may gain. 
So he asked those in military service, "Why would you do it? Why did you do it?" They all say the same thing: "Because they would have done it for me." This jives with my experience of every nurse, EMT, firefighter, and cop that I have ever ministered to as a chaplain. It also jives with my experience as a parish priest in ordinary extraordinary communities just like this.

The challenge is that this deep sense of trust and cooperation are feelings, not instructions. As Sinek says, “I can't simply say to you, ‘Trust me,’ and you will. I can't simply instruct two people to cooperate, and they will. It's not how it works. It's a feeling.”

Sinek’s observation points to what is at the core of what we are doing here today: because at the heart of Christian leadership is servanthood.

Today’s lesson from Acts is a very important lesson in my own spiritual journey. It works on so many levels. But, believe it or not, if the only way you encounter the Bible is through the Revised Common Lectionary, you will never, ever hear this story on a Sunday. It just doesn’t show up! If it weren’t for ordinations and the Daily Office, the church would never hear this story at all…and that is too bad. 

Here is what happens:

The apostles, who, if you recall, are themselves new to ministry, have started this amazing, happening church! They are feeding people, sharing the resources of the whole community to care for those in need particularly widows and orphans. The church in Acts is growing like wild-fire. Baptisms right and left, from not only the Jewish community (remember—the Church was still a Jewish sect at this time) but from the Gentile world!

But success was killing them. Apparently The Twelve were in a panic because what they started had grown so large. They feared that they would no longer have time to go out preach and teach. The Twelve were feeling overwhelmed.

But wait! There’s more! The lesson that was read today cuts out the thing that was really causing stress for the infant church: the division that was already growing between the Jewish Christians and the Gentile Christians. Luke describes how the Jewish Christians would only help other Jews, and the Gentile Christians would only help other Gentiles…who were at this moment the minority…and they were getting the left-overs.

So the apostles did what leaders the world over have done since time immemorial: (1) They complained that they did not sign on for this, and then (2) they kicked the can down the road while (3) being sure to use the language of the pastoral high road.

What we have here is the first administrative freak out in the history of the church! And the new Deacons rose to the occasion. (I see the Deacons in the room nodding their heads. So what else is new?) They rolled up their sleeves, slung their towels over their shoulders, and went to work.

But for The Twelve, there is also real maturity going on here. Just as Jethro took Moses aside and said, “Listen, son, you can’t do this alone” or when Moses chose the seventy, The Twelve have realized that listening to the Spirit all by themselves was not going to cut it. The Spirit was speaking through the whole community, so they had to distribute their authority, both to those first seven deacons and to community that chose them.

Although they didn’t know it, The Twelve had themselves experienced their own diaconal moment, and in so they doing they began to heed the Holy Spirit’s prompting and respect and trust the people that God has given them to serve.  They discovered that the heart of Christian leadership is servanthood.

This is a lesson we have to learn over and over again.

Which is why that the most diaconal thing that a Deacon (or any Christian!) can do is to ask“why.”

Especially since we spend a lot of time on the “what” and the “how” of Christian ministry but rarely on the “why.” We see this in our evangelism all the time. We say, “Come to our church, we welcome everybody!” (That’s the what.) And we say, “We have really beautiful worship! Come and join us!” (That’s the how.) They are very important. Congregations that get these right are, well, amazing! But “Why” do what we do? And why, compared to the Farmer’s Market, or the Iron Pigs, or sleeping in, should anyone care?

Because we have in the person of Jesus Christ seen the face of God. And in encountering Jesus, I have found myself, fully known—in all my brokenness and in all my potential—and fully loved.

Why? Because in Jesus Christ, we have a community and an identity.

Why? Because in Jesus Christ, we have discovered how to love the people around us and do the things that addresses the deep pain of this world.

Why? Because God gives us he tools and the power to be the people God made us to be.

Why? Because God, who could come to us in any way God wanted, chose to become incarnate in the form of a servant in the person of Jesus Christ.

You will be spending much of your time in congregation with organizing the “what” and the “how” of parish ministry. People will judge you on the quality of the program you create and manage. But they will love and trust you only as you inspire them to join together in God’s work of saving, loving, and caring for this world and each other.

You know this already. You have seen the miracles that safe, generous leadership can create, and the wreckage that disconnected leadership, or leadership built on theories of disruption, can bring. When you went on adventures exploring antique stores and (apparently) empty churches with a friend. When you have directed choirs and led congregations in music. When things got crazy and you decided to gather your friends in the Chapel in the middle of the night to sing hymns. When, in the moment of crisis, you walked across the aisle in a chapel full of hurting people so you could embrace and hang onto a friend in deep pain. When you and Brad took a risk, loaded up yet another U-Haul and went to a strange, faraway place and a new community. When you and your friends debated the deep truths over beer and big sandwiches at Shenanigans…through all of this you have been discovering this truth again and again and again:

The heart of Christian leadership is servanthood.

Dale:

The time has come. This parish—this gathering of God’s people-- has heard God’s call, identified you as one set apart for a special ministry, and has placed you before the whole church to test and confirm that call and to form and prepare you for ministry. You are ready for this new journey.

Be the guy who asks why.

Be a leader who creates safe spaces of deep grace.

Trust the people God has given you to serve.

And don’t forget:

YSR!

In your own Hundred Acre Wood (and every parish is The Hundred Acre Wood, get over it!) do as Piglet does: When you wake up, ask yourself “I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?” Which is a pretty good bookend to a good Ignatian Examen every night.

Ground yourself in the whole prayer of the whole church everyday.

Be an ambassador of reconciliation. This is not a job for wimps, but you’ve got this. 

Because you have a servant’s heart, and that is the foundation for excellent Christian leadership.

And may God go with you in all do.

Thursday, June 02, 2016

Andrew's axioms for parish leadership.


“If Jethro has his rules, I have my axioms.”
These are truths I have picked up along the way. I make no claim as to originality.
Several friends and colleagues have contributed to the list over the years.
They are offered in no particular order, except for the first and the last.

1.      The health, safety, and welfare of the team always comes first.
2.      Nothing screws up a perfectly good system faster than getting the boss involved.
3.      If you do the right thing, for the right reason, in the right way, you will always get a right result.
4.      You are not a hero for fixing a problem that you yourself created.
5.      A good leader always reserves the right to be wrong.
6.      Your team has more collective intelligence than any one of you alone, including you. Especially you.
7.      Good leaders always eat last. Except when you’re with the Altar Guild. Then the Rector eats first. Get over it.
8.      You can learn everything you need to know about the nature a parish’s leadership by watching how they worship together.
9.      “You can accomplish anything as long you don’t care who gets the credit.” – Harry Truman.
10.  If you want to look like a genius, surround yourself with good people.
11.  If you want trust, give trust. If you want respect, give respect.
12.  There are two kinds of control, the kind you take and the kind you earn.
13.  Your emergency is not necessarily someone else’s crisis.
14.  Your team will follow you and do as you say, but if they know that you would give your life for them, they will succeed beyond all imagining.
15.  As you read the Gospels and Acts, whenever you shake your head in amazement at how Peter never "gets it," remember: You are Peter. Jesus trusted Peter anyway.
16.  It’s not their anxiety that the team cannot manage, it’s yours. You are responsible for your own anxiety.
17.  Always remember that the congregation you are in is the best congregation anywhere.
18.  It’s a pulpit, not a therapist’s couch. It’s a pulpit, not a soapbox.
19.  Your team will be as loyal to you as you are to them.
20.  Gripes move up the chain of command, not down.
21.  Avoid assuming conspiracy when simple incompetence will do.
22.  When you celebrate the Eucharist facing ‘East,’ remember that you are laying your gifts at Jesus’ feet. When you celebrate facing ‘West,’ Jesus is looking over your shoulder.
23.  Your congregation is not a family. Your family is your family. And they will appreciate that you know the difference.
24.  “The bureaucratic mindset is the only universal constant.” – Dr. Leonard McCoy
25.  Words and phrases to avoid in leadership: “never,” “always,” “should,” “ought,” “we’ve always done it that way,” “it is the custom of this parish…,” and “you need to….”
26.  The stewardship of a congregation will not surpass the giving of their clergy, and the prayer life of a congregation will not surpass the prayer life of their clergy.
27.  They won’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.
28.  A good model is worth its weight in gold. Until it clouds your thinking.
29.  Maybe Jesus was asleep in the boat because he trusted the crew more than they trusted themselves.  After Jesus reduced the storm to a manageable level, he went back to sleep and let the crew do their work.
30.  The most important person in your parish is the person who may show up just once and “only” to pray. Everything you do, from the Vestry meetings, to the Sacristans, to the administration, is done to serve that person.
31.  Hear “no” as graciously as you hear “yes.”
32.  The right learning style for the right task. Don’t be afraid to adapt the task to fit the learning style.
33.  Listen to your resistance, it is telling you something.
34.  Use disruption sparingly.
35.  Be receptive to ideas from unexpected places. The best idea may not be yours.
36.  The person suggesting a solution may not be the person to execute the solution.  
37.  ‘Beat the bounds’ of your parish regularly, because your parish is more than your membership.
38.  Good behavior is what you do in public. Ethics is what you do when no one is watching.
39.  Be generous and be public with praise, but don’t overdo it. Nothing spoils a good compliment like gushing.
40.  Your team knows how you talk about them in private.
41.  When casting aside tradition, remember that all you doing is creating new ones.
42.  In parish ministry, the throughput is the product.
43.  If a gentle reprimand is in order, then do it privately.
44.  A chief job of the leader in a parish is to pray with, mentor, and coach your team.
45.  No matter how small it is, your parish is made up of several congregations. And that’s okay.
46.  When confronting a painful past, there are always conflicting narratives. They are all true.
47.  “How” and “What” are the easy questions. A good leader asks “why.”
48.  Lead from the front when you want to be seen. Lead from the rear when you need to observe.
49.  When your team throws up their hands and gives in to your wishes, you’ve lost.
50.  Rules are rules. But no one remembers the framework or the canvass, just the painting. 

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Meaningful change

Sometimes pop culture and religion come together in strange ways. Sometimes it is even good.

I noticed on the Facebook that Jesuit Father James Martin posted a photograph of a woman standing next to another priest with the comment “Yesterday my friend Fr. John Duffell met a graduate of the Convent of the Sacred Heart in New York.” The graduate was Lady Gaga, and the big news was that “Lady Gaga went to Mass!”

Given that she grew up Catholic, went to Catholic school, and routinely finds sneaky ways to insert scripture and Catholic references into her music, what’s the big deal?

Well, apparently some people are suspicious of Lady Gaga’s motives
.  
According to Crux, Becky Roach from Catholic-Link, wrote a post complaining that Lady Gaga went to Mass, posted that fact on Instagram, while still continuing to live as a Hollywood celebrity with all the trappings. I guess that to these folks that if Lady Gaga doesn’t suddenly become Amy Grant or the Medical Mission Sisters, then she is somehow not Catholic enough.

The Catholic world is not alone in this. When I was a teen-aged Baptist, and listened to a lot of Christian pop music, I remember similar things happening in the evangelical world when a big movie star or pop star would announce that they were “born-again.” It was cool to have a celebrity on “our team”…but when they didn’t start cutting Christian pop but did the music they always did, or continued to take parts in films that they had always taken, we were told that they had “fallen away.” Often they would misquote Mark 4:3-20, they had fallen on shallow soil. They weren’t somehow Christian enough.



Make no mistake, Christianity is a religion of conversion! But it is not a light switch. It takes time, and might follow a path we do not expect.

The rule of Saint Benedict has something to say about this.  In the rule, he talks about “Conversatio morum’” or (very) roughly translated “Conversion of Life.” When a monk takes on the vow of “conversion of life”, it is a promise to live a life of a continuous change of heart. It is promise to be open to a daily reshaping of the mind and heart according to God’s plan for us. 

We have often learned this concept exactly backwards, so it’s important to stop and listen.

We often think of repentance as a turning from something to something. Typically we think of this kind of change as, the Prayer Book says, “turning from the old life of sin into new and everlasting life.” Converatio morum is instead a turning with something. It is aligning our heart, mind, and spirit with God the Holy Spirit and turning with Him, toward Him, and beside Him. For Benedict, conversion of life is a radical re-orientation towards God in all things.

Sr. Joan Chittister, OSB, says:

Benedict did not demand of his followers great feats of prayer and mysticism based on an asceticism of perfection. He asked monastics to set out on a path to change their hearts. This conversatio morum, which is the profession we have made, relies on valuing community and connectedness in a world that prizes individualism and independence. We have the opportunity to demonstrate to the postmodern world that happiness is found in God and God is found in relationship with others—community.

Oddly enough, the Instagram post that Lady Gaga posted hits the mark. She says: “The Eucharist is not a prize for the perfect but the food that God gives us.” In short, she riffs a saying dating back to the Apostolic era that the Eucharist is medicine for sinners.

When we come to Christ, we don’t just wake up one day and find ourselves changed, perfect, and sinless. If that were the case, then all the babies we’ve ever baptized would be never be crabby, always patient; never self-centered but fully self-aware. No, instead, we baptize people knowing full well that the change Christ will bring takes time, practice, and patience. It will mean that God leaves room for us to try and fail—or even to not try and still fail!—and that eventually we will go the next step in our spiritual pilgrimage building on what we have learned before.

Br. David Vryhof of the Society of St. John the Evangelist writes:

Only God can transform us; only God can convert us.  Resolutions of our own making and determined attempts at self-discipline are not enough.  Strong desire and determination can help, but they won’t necessarily get us there.  Learning and believing the right beliefs will not transform our lives.  We cannot convert ourselves by our own doing; it is the work of the Spirit.

But we can open ourselves to the process by becoming conscious of and intentional about a deepening relationship with God.

This is what spiritual practice is all about. This is why we pray and fast and study. This is why we go to Church and partake of the sacraments and join ourselves to the Body of Christ.

We are already in relationship with God, but we grow in that relationship by being intentional about it and by paying attention to it.  And as we give ourselves over to this process of transformation, conversion happens.

What’s happening is not simply a halt to bad behavior but a gradual-yet-radical reorientation of our lives towards God. A conversion of the heart; a conversion of our living. So while this change is gradual, and often very subtle, it is not accidental. Like stability, the decision to stand still and be present; conversion of life is a decision to be open to change. These decisions may appear to be contradictory—do we stay or do we go?—they in fact represent the living breathing heart of the Christian life that the Rule of St. Benedict describes.

Change is at the heart of the Christian life. Christianity is all about conversion, but while at least some of us might start at the moment of conversion (variously described as being “born-again,” “baptized by the Holy Spirit,” or simply as “a-ha!”) it is in fact a life-long process. Since God is infinite in love, majesty, grace, and power, and since we are so limited, it makes sense that conversion of life is a continual, on-going, and intentional re-orientation towards God.


We wish for instant results, instant transformation, instant holiness, but what God seeks is a heart tuned towards God and that takes time.