My Heresy Galatians 5:19-21

St. Paul writes: “Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger (bad temper), selfishness, divisions (dissensions), party spirit (factions with peculiar opinions), envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.”

The phrase “party spirit” in our text is a translation of the Greek word “hairesis,” which in ordinary usage means nothing more sinister than a matter of choice or opinion. People have differing opinions about everyday matters–What to wear, what to eat, what to do with their spare time. Their choices have nothing particularly vicious about them.  You can collect tattoos and eat sushi and be all right. It is only in the context of religion does the word “hairesis” lose its innocence and find its way onto Paul’s list of the works of the flesh, a catalogue of distractions the lead us away from our goal, leading a Christ-like life.

 In this context “haresis” means to be a member of a faction apart from the orthodox community.  Jehovah’s Witnesses are an apt modern example. It gives us our word “heresy,” which means a peculiar doctrine held by an individual or a group which separates them from the fellowship of the faithful. It is the opposite of unity and conformity. And for Paul, factions that hold such oddball opinions are an immediate danger to themselves and to the Church, and therefore belong on a list of damnable sins. 

Needless to say, he word “heresy” doesn’t have much purchase in a secular, heterodox society like our own, but the idea of heresy is still out there, albeit in a different form.  While religion has become less important to many Americans—a matter of opinion or no opinion at all—political parties of both the right and the left have taken on the character of religions, with all of the inflexible doctrines of fundamentalist faiths. All or nothing propositions are ever more common in the rigid polarized politics of the Trump era. People define themselves and are defined by their political party or leaning. And in this contentious atmosphere that old concept of heresy has gotten a new lease on life. People whose opinions don’t fit into the orthodoxies of either party find themselves outside the fellowship of both. In this context I would venture to say there are more of these political heretics around these days than religious ones.    

                I grew up in a family where all the men were what used to be called “yellow dog Democrats.” The term has gone out of general use so it needs to be explained: A yellow dog Democrat is one who would rather vote for a yellow dog than for a Republican for anything. My grandfather was one. So was my father. They were old-fashioned Democrats–pro-labor and anti-big money, opposed to the very idea of the Republican Party, which my father liked to call “the society of organized selfishness.”  To his neighbors my father talked about the weather and crops, but never politics, because many of them were Republicans. And in that place and time—rural North Dakota in the 50’s and 60’s–neighborliness was more important than any political opinion, no matter how strongly held.  But it was clearly understood at home, the men in our family voted the straight Democratic ticket.  We were yellow dogs, and that is what I have always been.

                The women in the family were, however, a different matter. They were what my father called “fence jumpers.” My grandmother considered Harry Truman to be the Antichrist. And my mother once secretly voted for Richard Nixon mostly because she felt sorry for Pat. When my father somehow found out about it, he was furious, and for some days refused to speak to her. She didn’t care. “It was a nice break,” she said later. But all that stuff was kept in the family. Talking about politics outside the house was considered bad form, like discussing religion in a heated way.

I miss my dad. He was in many ways the best man I have ever known. But I can’t help but wonder if he were alive what he would be, politically speaking. I know he would not want to be a Republican—Heaven forbid! –but would he still be a yellow dog Democrat? Without a doubt he would be more than a little uncomfortable with many of the rigid doctrines that dominate the agenda of the Democratic Party.  He was a Pietist Lutheran who went to church every Sunday. He never talked about what he thought of abortions—it wasn’t the big issue of his time the way it is in ours–but I doubt that he would have wanted to see his tax money used to fund abortions. If he were alive he would probably be what I am—anti-abortion and pro-choice–living with the paradox of being “both and.”

In everything he was a moderate. But that sort of political moderation is almost impossible to find in the Democratic Party nowadays. “There is no middle ground,” Senator Bernie Sanders said recently on the subject of abortion rights, but that kind of rigidity extends to everything else. And the Republican Party is at least as inflexible in its orthodoxies. In that the two parties are more like each other than different. There are no opinions any more, only doctrines.  There is no room in either for moderation on the most important issues of our time. Nothing is nuanced by scruples or conscience. Everything is expressed in the most radical terms—all or nothing.  Everyone has be a true believer or a heretic.

So I have for some time been feeling like an orphan in the party the men in my family supported with such loyalty, but now I realize that if I ever had any faith in political absolutes, I have lost it. Pro-choice, anti-gun–the truth is, it’s just not that simple. Each party hurls anathemas at the other, but neither seeks a compassionate, moderate middle ground. Abortion must be either be available upon demand at every stage of pregnancy and paid for with tax money or it must be outlawed in every case without reference to the health or well-being of the mother. I am really comfortable with neither of those positions, being pro-life and pro-choice both.  

So I do not fit in, and I am tired of feeling like a guest at my own party. So I am saying it right here, I am no longer a yellow dog. So what am I? In matters of politics I am a heretic. There I said it. And I am further convinced that true freedom begins where we shed the labels that once defined us. As St. Paul writes elsewhere, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male or female, for you are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28).  It is a great source of liberation to me not to be locked into a political party any more. Now politics can become what it should be–a matter of some importance, but not of ultimate importance, a matter of choice made under the influence of the gospel, but not identical with the gospel.  

                We have entered into the season of presidential campaigning whole hog, and self-control has become a challenge. But like all the gifts of the spirit, it is there to be claimed. It is possible to rise above the conflicting claims of political orthodoxies and be a moderate even in this radicalized time. To me being a political heretic is to be a true follower of Jesus, who avoided all political and religious labels, and was executed for being a heretic as much as anything. Political life in this country has become so poisonous that it may be time for those of us who are followers of the Way to evaluate our political stance in the light of what Paul says about bad temper, dissensions and factions. Politics is not important enough to let it govern your life, beloved. Human existence is more than the sum of our opinions, however strongly held.

 

Arming the Sheep

Matthew 28:9-10

“Suddenly [the risen Lord] met [the women] and said, ‘Greetings!’ And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshipped him. Then Jesus said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.’”

There is a church in Tampa that has the following notice posted where visitors can plainly see it: “WARNING–PLEASE KNOW THAT THIS IS NOT A GUN FREE ZONE. WE ARE HEAVILY ARMED—ANY ATTEMPT WILL BE DEALT WITH DEADLY FORCE—YES, WE ARE A CHURCH AND WE WILL PROTECT OUR PEOPLE.” The message is signed, “THE PASTORS.”

In other words—Be warned, you wolves, both the shepherd and the sheep are heavily armed, and they are ready and willing to blow you away if you try anything funny. So stop short, varmint, step back and think again.

It is difficult to know what to make of a sign like that. Do they mean it? Every indication is they do. This isn’t a “Don’t flush paper towels down the toilet” sort of sign. This is deadly serious stuff. Jesus said, “Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also” (Matthew 5:39). But don’t expect the people in this church to turn the other cheek. The senior pastor has a concealed weapons permit and favors the Springfield Armory 1911 handgun, which presumably he takes to service together with his Bible. The church regularly sponsors concealed weapons permit classes, and members come to service armed and prepared to use deadly force if necessary. “We are not a soft target,” the pastor told the Tampa Bay Times. “People here will defend their families.” And themselves presumably.

Finding such a sign in a church would have been unthinkable in an earlier time, but church shootings, here and abroad, have been in the news, and people will respond in all-to-human ways to a threat, real or imagined. And one very human response to gun violence is to arm yourself and be prepared to shoot it out, OK Corral style. Florida law protects that kind of response, but would you want to worship in such a church? And what does turning churches into armed camps say to the wise world about what we believe and teach?   

Well, nothing good, although there is no question that a sign like that would appeal to certain people. But there is a real question whether arming the sheep would actually serve as a deterrent to a heavily armed and probably suicidal shooter. I very much doubt it. On the contrary an armed congregation would constitute a challenge and a weird justification for a shoot-out. Are guns a constraint or are they a provocation to violence? That is the central issue.

I got my first gun for my birthday when I was twelve years old. It was a beautiful 22 gauge rifle. A boy’s gun. And my father took me out and taught me to use it. I grew up on a ranch in western North Dakota, where guns were everywhere. Everyone had at least one, and they didn’t make us any better or worse. Some people hunted, but no one ever considered using a gun to shoot another person. It certainly would never have occurred to anyone to take one to church. I used mine to slaughter innocent bird life—which I now confess with shame. But I got bored with killing early on and put the rifle in a closet, where is probably still is. Now I don’t want a gun. I wouldn’t let one in the house. After thirty some years in the parish ministry and what I have learned about the mental stability of certain church members, I wouldn’t want anyone with a gun sitting next to me in service either, no matter good a Christian he or she thinks she or he is. I know too much about human nature to want anything to do with guns.

According to St. Matthew, the first thing the risen Lord said to the women after he had greeted them that first Easter morning was this—“Do not be afraid.” I am risen, the Lord is saying, and now you don’t need to fear anything in life or death. That is the essential gospel—Do not be afraid. All the rest is dressing. No matter how many other excellent things you may have to say, if you have failed to convey that, you have said nothing about the Good News.  So if you have a pistol concealed under your inerrant King James Bible, what you are saying is this–I have given up on the gospel and put my faith in guns. A gun in church stays—I am afraid. I am afraid for me and mine. And fear is the opposite of faith, beloved.  A gun in church also says–I am angry. And anger is the opposite of love. But faith in the risen Lord puts an end to our fear, just as Christ’s love and forgiveness puts a period to our anger. When you come to worship all you need, beloved, is your offering and a tissue. And when you carry nothing more deadly to church than your Bible you are saying: I am at peace with everyone and unafraid, even of those who wish me ill.  

 

 

Don’t Even Ask

NO SALT, PEPPER, KETCHUP ETC. IN DINING ROOM. DON’T EVEN ASK. OUR FOOD IS EXPERTLY MADE BY NEW ORLEANS TRAINED CHEFS. NO IMPROVEMENT IS NEEDED. –Bones

            This sign has always hung over the door at Mr. Bones BBQ out on Anna Maria Island. Mr. Bones is one of my most favorite places not only in Florida, but in the whole world. It’s not for everyone—you pick your beer out of a coffin. But for those who undertake a pilgrimage there is an extensive and diverse menu, all excellent choices. But I must confess that I seldom have anything but the Chicken Shish Kebab w/Rice Biryani, which is described thus: “From India; Amazing!  Chicken marinated with 12 Indian spices. Flame grilled with onion, mushrooms, green pepper, and tomato. Served with our special rice biryani, accompanied by mango and coriander chutneys and cucumber yogurt raita (no side dishes).” Not many things in this world that say they are amazing really are, meaning you can get lost in them, but this is.

            Don’t ask for anything to doctor it up, however, because you won’t get it. No salt. No pepper. And—God help you!—no ketchup. The food at Mr. Bones BBQ isn’t perfect—but it is as perfect as it can be made. No improvement is needed. You probably have some little places you go to that you like a lot, but they will have to go some to beat Mr. Bones BBQ. And do they serve General Moe’s Watercress with curried rice there, or Congo Chicken, or an incomparable Homemade Bread Pudding to end all puddings? Probably not. Oh I wish I could take you to Mr. Bones, beloved. Tonight.

But the truth is that the whole world is full of pleasures both ordinary and exotic on which no improvement is needed. At the conclusion of his creation the Bible says, “God saw everything that he had made, and indeed it was very good” (Genesis 1:31). Of course that was before sin got hold of things and messed them up, adding too much salt and dumping blood like ketchup all over the perfection of things. But I still hold that nature is “graced”–that that essential, original goodness still clings to things, like early morning dew, especially to the things over which we have the least control.

We focus altogether too much on what is wrong, and regularly look for what could be changed to suit us better. But there is a sign hanging over the creation, beloved—No improvement needed. It is invisible, but it is there. In our prayers we do not often enough glorify God for the extravagant goodness of things as they are, the quotidian blessings of the sensual world. But we should.

The difference between a joyous life and one that is less than happy is the simple word “gratefulness”–gratefulness for what is. A lot of time is wasted talking about living in the now, not in the past or in the future. But what exactly do you do in the now to sanctify it? How do you fill this present moment? It is as easy as it is difficult. You give thanks for what is, for the universe of things, created good.  And for human creativity, which mirrors the divine—in science, in the arts, in the love and service of ordinary people, and—can we forget—in food. So, beloved, give thanks for the physical beauty and savor of the world.  

            Oh, and before I forget, Mr. Bones has a full vegan menu. But if you should ever go there for heaven’s sake, if you can, try the ribs.

Living with Grace

1 Corinthians 15:9-11

St. Paul writes: “For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of [the other apostles]—though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me.”

The thing that annoys me most about living in the Age of Trump is the puerility to which things have descended. And the press cannot resist reporting it all—the bombastic tirades, the schoolyard name calling, the oily vulgarity, the mean-spirited nastiness, the ridiculously obvious venality, the gratuitous, petty cruelties.  It would be funny if it were not so tediously bumptious, like watching a bear dance in a tutu. Now a bear in a tutu can be amusing—if you’re not the bear—but it wears out fast.

            And so has this. But when all the Trumpian silliness has worn thin I take refuge where I can always find it—in the letters of St. Paul. In this time when honesty has gone out of fashion, the voice of St. Paul speaks to us with a refreshing soberness and honesty. The apostle was never afraid to hold himself up as an example. “Be imitators of me,” he writes in his First Letter to the Corinthians, “as I am of Christ” (11:1). And indeed, we could do worse than to emulate the sober ethos of the man who reveals himself in the letters that make up the bulk of our New Testament.

If we read his letters without bias, we cannot help remark upon the absolute rectitude of the voice we hear speaking. You may not like Paul—many didn’t and many more don’t—but there is no waffling or dissembling in what he says, and his honesty extends to himself particularly. He was not gifted with perfect sight, either physical or moral, but Paul tells it as he sees it. And so should we, beloved. Nor he does not indulge any illusions about himself. Instead he tries as hard as anyone could to estimate himself without exaggeration—no better or worse than he is.

 Paul did not live in a society that valued modesty, and so when he says: “I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle,” he isn’t feigning humility. He was not a disciple of Jesus, and his encounter with the risen Christ was late and atypical–he came to be apostle “as one untimely born,” as he puts it. He may have been born late, but an apostle he is nevertheless–by the grace of God. And he refuses to take a back seat to others who also claim that title. “On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them,” he says. 

He does not deny his early career as a persecutor of the church either—that was I too, he says. Not someone else. No excuses offered. He takes entire responsibility for his past, but he does not let that past torment him. Nor should we, beloved. Paul glances back on his personal history long enough to acknowledge it without excessive pride or shame. What has happened, has happened. Then he focuses on the present and future realities. “This one thing I do,” he writes to the Philippians: “forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on to the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in in Christ Jesus” (3:13-14).     

The past is always out there to subdue us and make us thoughtful, but it is the present tense that ultimately matters. So he says in our text, “By the grace of God I am what I am.” What is that present tense grace? It is God’s favor and forgiveness, which results in the new kind existence that Paul calls “the grace of God that is with me.”  To live “with grace” does not mean to live a flawless existence, but in Paul’s case it does mean to live a vastly productive one. He speaks with pride of God’s grace “with him,” which is “not without effect”—an intentional understatement. He is proud of his accomplishments, and yet he does not demand credit for the faith of the Corinthians: “Whether then it was I or [another of the apostles], so we proclaim and so you have come to believe” (v. 15).

The life of St. Paul—what we know of it—was in many ways admirable, but was hardly perfect. What his writings reveal about the character of the man is mixed. There is ample evidence that he could be stubborn and quarrelsome–not at all an easy person to deal with. In style and content he could be rough. But the grace of God that is “with him” does not mean charm. Paul’s rhetoric, learned from classical models, is often powerful and sometimes elegant, but it never has the charm of the writings of, say, St. Luke. And Paul’s voice, though commanding, is more dignified than refined. Instead it is self-assured, self-confident, composed—in short, adult. “When I was a child,” he writes, “I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways” (1 Corinthians 13:11). 

And it is that very quality of wisdom and maturity that we most need in our inane and frivolous time. Who knows how long this reign of childishness will continue. Please God may sensibleness soon triumph soon. I am so sick and tired of the bear in the tutu. But in the meantime it is up to you and me to live “with grace.” It is high time to look at ourselves honestly, beloved, without the narcissism that has infected our society from above and below. I suppose it is unfair for any of us to be expected to rise to the level of great saint, but it is not too much to ask of any of us to behave like adults.

Some Common Sense on Abortion

“For it was you [O LORD] who formed my inward parts;

you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Wonderful are your works; that I know very well.” Psalm 139:13-14

 

Emboldened with fresh confidence that the Supreme Court’s new solidly conservative majority is about to overturn Roe vs. Wade, which guarantees a woman’s reproductive rights, the Alabama legislature has passed a bill that would outlaw all abortions at every stage of pregnancy with no exceptions for rape of incest. If you follow the news at all you already know this, and if you know it, you undoubtedly have an opinion, more or less strongly held.

Under the Alabama law, doctors who perform abortions could be sentenced to ninety-nine years in prison. There are, however, no consequences for the woman who seeks an abortion. For this reason some vocal members of the pro-life community believe that the Alabama law does not go nearly far enough.  For them every abortion is an act of murder. Therefore the procedure must be outlawed in every circumstance.  Not just doctors, but a woman having an abortion, or ordering abortion medications online, or using a “do it yourself” method to rid herself of an unwanted fetus, should be charged with homicide. For these pro-life purists the only way to reduce abortions is to treat the parents who participate in it as murderers, subject to the righteous wrath of the law.

But consider some cases in point–a thirteen- year-old girl  who is impregnated by her father. In this world such things do happen. Should she be forced to give birth to her father’s child? A consistent anti-abortion view says, Yes. Logically you cannot hold that abortion is infanticide and then say it is all right some of the time. Or consider a rape survivor. Should she be forced to carry her rapist’s child to term? The consistent anti-abortion stand says, Yes! Or a pregnant woman whose life may be endangered by giving birth. If you use the rigid logic of the pro-life moment extenuating circumstances mean nothing in making the decision.  For those who take the hard line—about 20 percent of the American public and for the legislature of Alabama—the answer is still , Yes! The life of the unborn child outweighs the life of the mother. Their concern is centered on the fetus, not on the mother’s health and certainly not on her psychological or financial situation.

For those of us who cannot agree with their point of view, it is important to understand where that unyielding Yes! is coming from. For pro-life purists to think otherwise is not only illogical, but profoundly immoral, and the certainty of their rightness fills them with passionate intensity. And they are not going to go away; they will go on fighting for a final victory.

For those who want to criminalize abortion under any circumstances, there are Scripture passages like the one from the 139th Psalm to underpin their argument. Here the psalmist stands before God in awe of the human person. “I am fearfully and wonderfully made,” he rejoices, celebrating the glory of the human mind and body from its conception in his “mother’s womb.” For the psalmist a birth is not an accident that can be corrected; it is the sacred act of an omniscient God, who knows all because he has made all. This is consistent with the teaching of Scripture that God expresses himself in us. Human beings are made in his image. In the Bible there is no room left for any human choice that would destroy the image of God that is already present in the womb. In this transcendent context an abortion can never be not just a trivial medical procedure at whatever stage it is performed. It is a matter of overwhelming moral significance. When the Kingdom comes the need for abortions will, of course, cease. But in the meantime what should the attitude of those to try to follow Jesus be toward such a divisive issue?

Within its own parameters, it is impossible to say the hardline anti-abortion stances is illogical. In a rational world it would easily carry the day. But human existence is profoundly irrational and chaotic and, by reason of sin, is going to remain so. Laws cannot change that. But there is a great peril in moral certainty, beloved. Placing principles above human beings is always dangerous and often cruel.  And moralities, no matter how exalted, cannot be allowed eclipse the suffering of the individual human person.

Most Americans’ view of abortion is confused and inconsistent. They do not favor abortion in every situation, nor do they regard it as a moral neutral. Most favor some restrictions on abortion and are repelled by third-trimester abortions, which the legislation of the state New York recently made it easier to get. Most would be horrified at the idea of woman being prosecuted for murder for a first-trimester abortion. Or by the thought of sentencing the doctor who performed it to 99 years in prison. If they were asked whether a rape victim should be forced to carry her rapist’s child to term, most would say, No! And if they were asked if they wanted to see the 13 year old molested by her father forced to give birth to her child they would answer–of course not.

In line with this, the attitude of Christians toward abortion cannot be anything but ambivalent and complex. This is one of those many areas in which to be a follower of Jesus is to be perplexed. We are called to recognize the holiness and uniqueness of every human being. You cannot say that you are a follower of the Way and in the next breath say that a fetus is just a clump of cells that can be washed away without moral consequences.  In the Kingdom of God, that future world in which God reigns over all, human life—all human life, born and unborn—will be cherished. But in this sinful and distorted world we cannot deny women the right to make their own decisions as regard their own bodies, especially in extreme circumstances. Here compassion and not purity has to be the rule.

But those who struggle for purity will never go away. They will go on fighting for an absolute end of abortion. They will never accept anything less.  But we are not they. Ambiguity rules many parts of our lives, beloved, and we have to admit that when it comes to abortion we are equivocal. We are still looking for a middle ground, where the holiness of life and compassion for those who are overwhelmed by it can both stand. And if we are prepared to fight for anything it should be for fairness. Where the ideal cannot be achieved, equality under the law should at least be the rule.  A poor woman living in Alabama must have the same access to her reproductive rights as a rich woman living in New York. But apart from that, our passionate concern must always be that moderation, and not fanaticism–even on such a fraught subject as abortion–should carry the day.