Why People Move Between Different Church Traditions – A Hypothesis

Movement

 

I was wondering a few weeks back, if perhaps people’s worship style preference could be directly correlated to their personality type.  I found this article that seemed to affirm that belief.  I asked our readers to guess what my Myers-Briggs personality type was based on what they knew of my worship style preferences and the way I approach church.  The first response was exactly right!  I started developing that thought a little bit.  That is, if we grew up in a church that didn’t fit our personality type, and wanted to make a change, what would that change look like?    I came up with diagram above.  With apologies to our Orthodox friends and others, I have simplified the American religious landscape into the three largest streams of Christian expression in the U.S.A.

Looking at the diagram from left to right we can make a few observations.

1.  A person who grows up in a liturgical Catholic Church whose personality does not fit well with a liturgical style of worship, and decides to leave, has primarily two options:

  • Become one of the “Nones” –  Agnostic, Atheist, or no religious affiliation
  • Attend an Evangelical Church

2. A person who grows up in a liturgical Mainline Protestant Church whose personality does not fit well with a liturgical style of worship, and decides to leave, has primarily two options:

  • Become one of the “Nones” –  Agnostic, Atheist, or no religious affiliation
  • Attend an Evangelical Church

3. A person who grows up in an Evangelical Church whose personality does not fit well with a non-liturgical style of worship, and decides to leave, has primarily two options:

  • Become one of the “Nones” –  Agnostic, Atheist, or no religious affiliation
  • Attend an Liturgical church.  My hypothesis in this case is that the move will primarily be to a Mainline church, as it will enable them to maintain certain elements of theology with which they are familiar, but attend a style of worship with which they are more comfortable.

4.  If the above hypothesis is correct, we would see the greatest hemorrhaging of attenders from the Catholic Church with two primary outflows, and the most stable numbers in the Evangelical Church with two outflows and two inflows.

I created the graph below a number of years ago from Pew Forum data. It represents people’s moves from the faith of their childhood to their current faith in adulthood.

religiousswitching2

As predicted, the two major moves out of Catholicism are to the Nones and the Evangelicals. The two major moves out of Mainline churches are to the Nones and the Evangelicals. Finally, the two major moves out of Evangelicalism are to the Nones and the Mainline Churches. Catholics had the strongest decrease in numbers, while Evangelicals remained relatively constant.

Does my hypothesis ring true to you? If so, what should churches do to counteract this? Should they do anything? I haven’t talked about those who have left the Nones, nor do I have a hypothesis about why they end up where they end up. Any ideas for me on this? I want to explore these ideas some more in future posts. As usual your thoughts and comments are welcome.

Easter: do we just not “get” it?

Easter Sanctuary smDo we “get” Easter?

This year, I’ve had this sneaking suspicion that I don’t really “get” Easter, and maybe a lot of the churches and Christians I’ve been around don’t either. Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! (Repeat 3x.) Yeah, then it’s back to Monday morning and life as usual.

This feeling became intensified when I tried to put together an Easter playlist of music to listen to throughout the Great Fifty Days of the season (didn’t know Easter lasted fifty days? — well, that helps makes part of my point). I found lots of songs about the cross and some of them ended with a climactic verse on the resurrection. But it was hard to find many songs that focused on the resurrection itself and its implications for our lives.

(Compare the number of Christmas songs with the number of Easter songs in any hymnal, or if you’re more hip than that, on any worship music site, and you’ll get the message about what’s more important to us.)

I did find a wonderful new album by the Benedictines of Mary, Queen of Apostles, called Easter at Ephesus, and I highly recommend it. A whole collection of songs and every one reflecting on the resurrection and its meaning! That’s a rarity.

Then I came down here to Gethsemani. Of course, they follow the liturgical year and that means the normally austere sanctuary is decorated with flowers and a magnificent banner of the risen Christ that I can’t take my eyes off of when I’m in one of the services (see above). It is so grand that I think, “How can we just stand here and not look up with joy and hope and exhilaration every moment? How can we chant anything in a minor key or keep from dancing right here and now, with the risen Christ towering over us in glorious splendor?” The services are a bit more celebratory, but nothing like I imagine they could be.

I don’t think this is the fault of the Trappists, but of the liturgical tradition and a lack of imagination by those who practice it. Why, Fat Tuesday is more festive than most of the Sundays in Easter! Every service in this season should be filled with music like the Sinfonia from Bach’s Easter Oratorio, trumpets blaring. Priests and ministers should be splashing baptismal water over congregations each Lord’s Day, dousing them in new life, laughing and jubilant. Let’s have Easter parades galore! Kids’ events as rowdy and playful as egg hunts each week of the season! A continual feast of church suppers, concerts, extravaganzas! One thing our pastor has done since the beginning of the congregation has been to have a fish fry on one of the Sundays after Easter in remembrance of the story in John 21. Love it! Now if only we could have it on the beach!

Shouldn’t Easter Sunday unleash a season of festivity unlike any other? Shouldn’t it bring a time of celebration unmatched by any other season? Why is there not a flood of Easter music? Why not an entire season of feasting, rejoicing, doing good works, showing generosity, practicing hospitality, giving gifts, engaging in special mission and service projects, holding sacred concerts and art festivals, and decorating our homes, churches, and communities with beautiful reminders of new life and hope?

At least the liturgical churches do something. For many Christians outside those traditions, Easter is over at 12:01 Monday morning and it’s time to move on. Gotta get ready for Mother’s Day, I suppose.

But it’s not just what we do (or don’t do) when we get together this time of year. It’s the lack of theology, the lack of in-depth discussion, the lack of consideration, contemplation, and immersion in resurrection life that I’m missing in me and all around me. What difference does it make that Jesus is alive and seated at the right hand of the Father?

I mean, the entire New Testament is predicated on the fact that Jesus rose from the dead! Too many of us are content to merely try and prove that as a fact in the face of skepticism. Or we sidestep its implications for today by making it about: Jesus has risen, and now we’re going to heaven! Is that all it’s about? Apologetics? Angel wings?

And then I read this quote from Christian Wiman:

The problem with so much thinking about Christ’s resurrection and the promise that lies therein is the self-concern that is attendant upon, and often driving, this thought: resurrection matters because we matter, our individual selves; it matters because it is for us. But Christ’s death and resurrection ought to be a means of freeing us from precisely this kind of thinking, this notion of, and regard for, the self, which is the source of so much of our suffering and unhappiness. (“To hoard the self is to grow a colossal sense for the futility of living.” — Abraham Joshua Heschel) Instead, contemporary Christianity all too often preaches an idea of resurrection that is little more than a means of projecting our paltry selves ad infinitum, and the result is a grinning, self-aggrandizing, ironclad kind of happiness that has no truth in it.

My Bright Abyss, p. 165

Thankfully, I got help celebrating Easter Sunday this year, because April 5 was also Opening Day of the Major League Baseball season — for me the perfect alignment of heaven and earth!

But come on, the greatest day of our faith, and I need to watch the Cubs to make it better?

And then what? What about the other forty-nine days? What about the rest of my life?

Something’s wrong here. I don’t get it.

Ron Rolheiser on Priestly Prayer

Cross Marker sm

I have an idea some people have a misconception when I tell them I am going on retreat to a place like the Abbey of Gethsemani, where I am this week. I know I’ve had such wrong notions in the past, especially in my free-church evangelical days.

This is especially true regarding the daily services of prayer in which retreatants may participate. I can hardly imagine what my evangelical friends would think if I told them the monks pray nine times a day and that I delight in joining them.

Weekday
3:15 am Vigils
5:45 am Lauds
6:15 am Eucharist
7:30 am Terce
12:15 pm Sext
2:15 pm None
5:30 pm Vespers
7:00 pm Rosary
7:30 pm Compline

Can you imagine nine evangelical-style prayer meetings per day? No thanks. And if I were to tell those folks that the prayers being offered at Gethsemani were more of a written, liturgical style, I doubt that they’d grasp the purpose. They get together and chant nine times a day? You call that prayer? How does participating in that help you have a more intimate relationship with God?

In his excellent book, Our One Great Act of Fidelity: Waiting for Christ in the Eucharist, Ronald Rolheiser helps us distinguish two types of prayer, only one of which is understood in the evangelical world from which I come.

The first is public, or liturgical prayer, the second type is private, or devotional prayer.

These two types of prayer are not always apparent just by looking at them. Five hundred people can be together, each praying privately or together in a devotional fashion. Likewise, one person can pray the Daily Office by herself and it is liturgical prayer, the public prayer of the Church. These two types of prayer are not distinguished by how many people are praying, where they are praying, or whether or not they are praying together or individually.

In order to help us understand the difference, Rolheiser suggests we change the names of these types of prayer to:

  • Priestly prayer
  • Affective prayer

Priestly prayer is, in essence, not my prayer, but the prayer of Christ through his Church in which I participate. Rolheiser comments:

Our Christian belief is that Christ is still gathering us together around his word and is still offering an external act of love for the world. As an extension of that, we believe that whenever we meet together, in a church or elsewhere, to gather around the scriptures or to celebrate the Eucharist, we are entering into that prayer and sacrifice of Christ. This is liturgical prayer; it is Christ’s prayer, not ours. (p. 88)

Furthermore, this prayer is not for us but for the world. “In liturgical prayer we pray with Christ, through the church, but for the world” (ibid).

Affective prayer is different and serves a different purpose: to draw me as an individual closer to the Lord. In this type of prayer, I seek God in order to deepen my communion with him. As Rolheiser says, this type of prayer is designed “to open us or our loved ones up in such a way that we can hear God say to us, ‘I love you!’” (p. 89)

Both are necessary and important forms of prayer.

However, only the historic traditions grasp how essential the first type is. Only they grasp the significance of “common prayer,” prayer that is not immediately “relevant” to my life and my feelings, but which represents Christ and his entire church and is essential for the health of the world. Through such prayer the Church embodies and voices the priestly ministry of Christ, offering true sacrifices of praise and petition to the King who formed this world to be his dwelling place. Through it we experience the communion of saints throughout all time and in all places, and with them we cry out in lament and plead in intercession for the Judge of all creation to put the world to rights in Christ. Such prayer is most fully represented by the Psalms, and thus at places like Gethsemani the Psalms make up the majority of the prayers that are lifted up to God.

For the monks who chant the Psalms nine times daily, this is their primary work: they pray for the life of the world. Those of us who pray the Daily Offices throughout the world join with them and all the saints to share in that work.

Now I can also come to a place like Gethsemani to draw near Christ in personal devotion, and I hope I will, through various practices of reflection and formation. But Ronald Rolheiser has helped me distinguish what I do for my own spiritual well being and what I do for others in prayer. His distinction here helps me think more clearly about why I’m praying and participating in the various practices I engage in here and in my daily life.

As I wrote once before, the monks and the Church around the world, who pray priestly prayers every day at all times and in all places are the ones who are keeping the fires burning in the engine room of the world. And it is my privilege to shovel a bit of coal toward the Flame with them this week.

Andy Zehner: On Communitarianism

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Note from CM: I have said often that I am a-political — I don’t care much for politics, and we don’t talk too much about that world here on IM, except when it impinges on some facet of religious discourse. In today’s terms, I consider myself a moderate and you will usually find me lamenting the severe partisan divides that keep our governmental leaders from being effective in working for the common good. My roots are deep in the Midwestern small town ethos, and I also lived for some time in New England, where town meeting was still the main political event of the year. One of the best socio-political expressions which represents the way I think politically goes by the designation “communitarianism.” My friend Andy Zehner (Damaris’s husband) is an eloquent proponent of this commonsense, neighborly approach to community and civic life. I’ve asked him to explain it for us today here at IM.

Andy blogs regularly at Jordan or Styx? It’s a great site; you should check it out.

• • •

Many of the urgent, practical questions that arise in life find no answer in the Bible or the catechisms and doctrinal texts of the various denominations. The Sermon on the Mount is wonderful, but it doesn’t help a young Christian woman decide whether her skirt shows too much leg. There’s nothing in the Westminster Confession of Faith to help a conscientious person decide what to think (or do) about fracking, Ferguson or flat tax. When we do find specific commands (e.g., Lev. 25:35-37 or I Cor. 11:6), we are quick to dismiss them as irrelevant to our time and culture. And because practical instruction is rare and often disregarded, practical decisions about how to live continue to perplex us.

Communitarianism is a social theory suggesting how people can develop a fair and effective society. Chaplain Mike has asked me to explain a bit about it. If you will agree that fairness, effectiveness, and possibly God’s favor are worthy goals, I’ll try to show how communitarian principles lead to those ends. Consider:

  • Psalm 68 offers a litany of God’s great works, among which David lists, “God sets the lonely in families,” and concludes, “Praise be to God!”
  • Cooperation and community are the very essence of the Christian life as described by the apostle Paul: “For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.” (Romans 12:4-5).
  • John Donne, the brilliant 16th century pastor and poet, declares: “No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.” (Meditation XVII).
  • Dorothy Gale from Kansas experiences wonders meteorological, anthropomorphic and occult, and concludes, “There’s no place like home.”

These glimpses attest that relationships are fundamental to the human experience. God intends us to live with and through others. Communitarianism accepts the central role of community, and then builds a social theory to suggest how we should live. Human happiness requires, according to this view, a balance of personal freedom and civic rules. This is in contrast to libertarianism, which contends that liberty alone secures happiness. Communitarianism also disagrees with any who say personal wellbeing should be compromised for the good of the state (fascism). Personal wellbeing is the communitarian priority. A healthy society is the means to that end.

A new movement based on old ideas

The roots of communitarianism go back to the Bible and to Aristotle. It emerged as a school of thought only in the 1980s. Some important modern thinkers associated with the theory are Harvard professors Michael Sandel and Robert Putnam, whose 2000 book, Bowling Alone, describes the decline of civic engagement in America; the conservative sociologist Robert Nisbet; the political philosopher John Rawls; and Notre Dame theologian Alasdair MacIntyre. Its most fervent proponent is the Israeli-American sociologist Amitai Etzioni, who runs the Institute for Communitarian Policy Studies at George Washington University.

Caution: If you do any follow-up reading on this subject, you’ll likely come across dishonest articles equating communitarianism with one-world government and hidden agendas of domination. Here’s one. Here’s another. And here’s a third. These are fantastical misinterpretations. What the communitarian platform actually says is, “No social task should be assigned to an institution that is larger than necessary to do the job.” The important issues, in other words, should be resolved around the family dinner table more often than at the UN Headquarters or at Davos. Giving a voice to people in a Detroit slum or a Brazilian rain forest is the opposite of world domination.

Far from it

An informed and involved citizenry is the sine qua non of communitarianism. America today is far from that.

“It’s enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people’s. Mine occupies me constantly.” Charles Dickens put these words into the mouth of Ebenezer Scrooge, knowing they would mark him as an odious miser. In ancient Athens, a man of Scrooge’s mind was ιδιωτησ, an idiot. The word didn’t imply deficient mental capacity. A man was an idiot if he neglected his civic responsibilities. America today is a nation of avowed idiots, and of people proud to share Scrooge’s worst quality.

Let’s clarify what communitarianism isn’t. It is not politics. The purpose of politics is to gain power by winning elections. Communitarianism stands for a consistent idea whether it is popular or not. Communitarianism is not religion. The purpose of religion is to explain and regulate man’s relationship to what is transcendent, while communitarianism focuses on this life. Communitarianism is not ideology. Ideologies insist on a short-circuit path from principles to priorities to conclusions. Communitarianism asserts only foundational principles and leaves the conclusions to work themselves out through experience. I think it fair to say that communitarian principles are congruous with religion, but not so much with politics or ideology.

Communitarianism is, as I’ve said, a social theory. It is a package of ideas that ideologues and politicians pick up and discard as it suits them. Political conservatives tend to talk the communitarian talk concerning morality and limited government. They part ways when communitarians defend labor unions, immigrant groups and other minority perspectives. They agree about Normal Rockwell’s Freedom of Speech, in other words, but not about Norman’s Rockwell’s Golden Rule.

illustration_281_1_freedom_of_speech-400x506
rockwell-golden-rule

Communitarians and political liberals also maintain a tenuous alliance. A liberal regime seeks to act mainly through each individual’s dependence on the (national) government. Communitarianism prefers that families, church congregations, neighborhood associations and dozens of other groups provide the guidance and support the individual needs.

Communitarianism hovers on the periphery of public discourse. At his 1989 inaugural address, George H.W. Bush spoke of “a thousand points of light.” Since leaving office Bill Clinton has said the country (and world) needs, “Not liberal, but communitarian solutions.” According to Etzioni’s history of the movement, George W. Bush was also onboard until September 11, 2001, when urgent security concerns seemed to demand state power, secrets, and ruling by fiat  (all very anti-communitarian). Barack Obama has been more of a classic liberal, at least insofar as his signature health care reform is a big government program. Still, at his famous 2004 Democratic National Convention speech, Obama declaimed, “For alongside our famous individualism, there’s another ingredient in the American saga, a belief that we are all connected as one people. If there’s a child on the South Side of Chicago who can’t read, that matters to me, even if it’s not my child.”

Am I saying all or any of these men are communitarians? No, they are politicians. Their convictions are shallow and changing. But you can see that communitarian principles are not far from center stage. Indeed, they’ve been there since before America’s beginning.

We must, we must, we must

In 1630, as his puritan followers prepared to debark at their Massachusetts Bay settlement, John Winthrop delivered his famous “City on a Hill” sermon. It is one the highest, noblest agendas ever uttered. It thrills me every time I read it. It is thoroughly communitarian:

[W]e must be knit together in this work as one man. We must entertain each other in brotherly affection. We must be willing to abridge ourselves of our superfluities, for the supply of other’s necessities. We must uphold a familiar commerce together in all meekness, gentleness, patience and liberality. We must delight in each other; make other’s conditions our own; rejoice together, mourn together, labor and suffer together, always having before our eyes our commission and community in the work, as members of the same body. 

Now, it is a fact that the Massachusetts Bay puritans fell short of these ideals. They argued over doctrine. They burned witches. They plundered their Abenaki, Narragansett and Pequod neighbors. But their failure doesn’t tarnish the ideals.

If community mattered to the earliest settlers, and top politicians of today continue to endorse the rhetoric of community, why has communitarianism failed to accomplish widespread social improvement? Perhaps it has done more than we know. But I think the answer is that people have too little regard for their neighbors, and too much regard for the distant halls of power.  The first of these is sin, and the second is madness.

Waiting for the government to solve your problems is a poor strategy at any time. With the dysfunction that pervades Washington now, it has become even less hopeful. A former presidential advisor said not long ago that it is not possible to coalesce all Americans around an idea. “We don’t have the ability to communicate with them . . . They are talking to people who agree with them, they are listening to news outlets that reinforce that point of view, and [President Obama] is probably the person with the least ability to break into that because of the partisan bias there.”

If, in today’s bifurcated society, even a president cannot rally the people to consensus, he still has the option of ramming through his policies irrespective of public support. Or does he? The Affordable Care Act was passed by a Democratic Congress and with little discussion. In the five years since, several million Americans have gained health coverage and the cost of health care has fallen. Yet a majority of Americans still distrust the law and many are working to undermine it. Without consensus and support, even federal law is weak. But laws based on communitarian consensus would be supported by the people who administer them, and the people who obey them.

And this is where communitarianism might disappoint potential adherents. Consensus takes time and patience. Working in hundreds of communities is harder than commanding once and for all from on high. When decisions are decentralized, laws and practices can vary from place to place. And that is OK. Communitarianism is comfortable with legal marijuana in Colorado, if Coloradans decide after careful consideration that they want it. Most communitarians would not force rules onto all Americans from above, even on critical issues such as abortion or gun control. Compelling people to do the right thing is just another sort of tyranny. From the communitarian platform: “[W]hen a community reaches the point at which these responsibilities are largely enforced by the powers of the state, it is in deep moral crisis. If communities are to function well, most members most of the time must discharge their responsibilities because they are committed to do so, not because they fear lawsuits, penalties, or jails.”

Count the failures

The Sandy Hook School massacre represents a failure of the federal congress to take action. And that is where most people’s analysis rests. But it was also failure at many other levels. Adam Lanza failed to respect his mother. She failed to raise him up in the way that he should go. Neighbors and school officials failed to notice that Mrs. Lanza had more than she could handle, or failed to do anything about it. The schools failed to even try to teach moral and civic duty. Local police and mental health officials failed to act on what they knew about Lanza’s morbid intentions. A communitarian society would instill many local checks – many points of intervention – before the bullets began to fly.

Have it your way

The mention of moral teaching and intervention evokes the thought of religious or cultural or ideological indoctrination. “Whose principles,” you might ask, “will these communitarian societies expound?” The surprising answer, if you are not a complete sociopath, is: “Yours!” Again from the communitarian platform:

“We ought to teach those values Americans share, for example, that the dignity of all persons ought to be respected, that tolerance is a virtue and discrimination abhorrent, that peaceful resolution of conflicts is superior to violence, that generally truth-telling is morally superior to lying, that democratic government is morally superior to totalitarianism and authoritarianism, that one ought to give a day’s work for a day’s pay, that saving for one’s own and one’s country’s future is better than squandering one’s income and relying on others to attend to one’s future needs.”

And now….

Before ending I should give you some proof of communitarianism in action. I don’t presume to urge the iMonk community to be communitarian or to join any social movement based on communitarian principles. I just want you to know things are happening and it’s not just a theory. The nature of a human-scale, decentralized ethic is that it will never be large and headline-grabbing. But there are plenty of growing initiatives with communitarian values:

Urban farming is one example. Rather than settling for what giant retail and agro corporations provide, people in the hearts of big cities are growing fresh, healthy food on vacant city land and sharing it with their neighbors. For people who live nearer to farm production, community supported agriculture cooperatives connect conscientious growers with customers eager to pay a premium for fresher meat, fruits and vegetables than the stores supply.

The Community Environmental Legal Defense Fund helps communities defy “unsustainable economic and environmental policies set by state and federal governments” in order to achieve “sustainable energy production, sustainable land development, and sustainable water use, among others.”

The best and most extensive example of success built on a foundation of community and cooperation is the Mondragon Corporation of Spain. The company is a major enterprise with nearly 75,000 employees worldwide and sales of €12.5 billion. But Mondragon operates according to principles laid down in 1941by Catholic priest and corporate founder José María Arizmendiarrieta. Those principles are cooperation, empowerment, innovation and social responsibility. This video shows more. Most workers own shares in the company. Layoffs almost never happen, even during the severe recession of 2008-2010. Such things might not work in America where focus on maximum profits forces out other priorities. And then again, they just might work in Ohio, too.

Music Monday: Appalachian Spring

Oneida Hill
Spring emerging on a hillside in Oneida, KY – April 2015

The fate of pieces is really rather curious…you can’t always figure out in advance exactly what’s going to happen to them.

• Aaron Copland, speaking about Appalachian Spring

• • •

I delight in listening to one of our most beloved pieces of classical music at this time of year: Aaron Copland’s orchestral suite, Appalachian Spring. The recording I have enjoyed most is on an album called, Copland: The Music of America, by the Cincinnati Pops Orchestra, conducted by Erich Kunzel. This wonderful collection includes other famous “American” pieces by Copland as well, including Fanfare for the Common Man, Rodeo, and Billy the Kid. But it’s Appalachian Spring that wins first place in my heart, especially when I have a chance, as I did last weekend, to drive through some of the lovely landscapes of eastern Kentucky as springtime is emerging.

The orchestral suite version of Appalachian Spring is an adaptation of the ballet which Aaron Copland completed for his friend, Martha Graham in 1944. The ballet premiered at the Library of Congress on October 30, 1944, and Copland was awarded the 1945 Pulitzer Prize for Music for his achievement.

The way in which the piece has come to be understood — as an ode to the beauty of springtime in the Appalachian Mountains — was not its original concept. The ballet tells the story of American pioneers in western Pennsylvania who are celebrating the completion of their farmhouse. “Spring” for them equates to a new beginning and the new home which they celebrate. Copland had no title for the piece, calling it simply, “Ballet for Martha.” It was Graham, who danced the lead role in the original production, who suggested “Appalachian Spring,” from a line in a poem by Hart Crane. It reads:

O Appalachian Spring! I gained the ledge;
Steep, inaccessible smile that eastward bends
And northward reaches in that violet wedge
Of Adirondacks!

The “spring” in this poem refers not to the season but rather to a source of water, and the location is the Adirondack Mountains. Copland was amused when people would lavish praise on him for capturing the beauty of the coming of spring to the Appalachian mountains in this piece. Nevertheless, the music does lend itself to that reading, with its lovely passages that evoke the dawning of light, color, and new life, and its joyous dances which seem to express the renewal of the earth and new beginnings.

This is a wonderful piece for Eastertide. I recommend listening to it while meditating on Psalm 104, which proclaims God as the source of creation and new creation.

You make springs gush forth in the valleys;
they flow between the hills,
giving drink to every wild animal;
the wild asses quench their thirst.
By the streams the birds of the air have their habitation;
they sing among the branches.
From your lofty abode you water the mountains;
the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work.

Lord, how manifold are your works!
    In wisdom you have made them all;
    the earth is full of your creatures.

Today, I will be driving down to Bardstown, Kentucky for a week of silence, refreshment, and writing at the Abbey of Gethsemani. I expect to see the earth’s renewal all around me there in that beautiful country just west of Appalachia, and it will be Aaron Copland’s simple, sublime music that will be my soundtrack.

Here is the “Shaker Melody” (Simple Gifts) portion of Appalachian Spring, played by the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Leonard Bernstein:

Sundays with Michael Spencer: April 12, 2015

Jeremiah, Chagall
Jeremiah, Chagall
Note from CM: I’m editing and posting today’s message from Oneida, KY, Michael’s home and place of ministry. Gail and I are visiting Denise and enjoying the beauties of the early Appalachian spring. This message was originally posted in May 2008.

• • •

***sigh***

When someone says I’ve written something I shouldn’t have written, you can be almost certain that I’ve written something using the language of lament. L-A-M-E-N-T.

All of you that just said “huh?” please step into the side room. If you came in a bus, they’ll wait. It’s time for a lesson on some of the most important parts of the Bible that you won’t be hearing in church.

Lament is a form of language used THROUGHOUT THE BIBLE (excuse the shouting) when human beings respond to their experience of God seeming to not keep his covenant promises to them. Lament is “Where are you Lord? What are you doing? Why are you against me? How could you let this happen? I did what you commanded, and now this? My life is miserable. Where is God?” If you’re like most Christians, you know this stuff is in the Bible, but your pastor never gets near it at the risk of a deacons meeting to ask why he’s lost his faith.

Lament is a kind of mourning, and it’s a very legitimate and common Biblical form of prayer. It’s part of how the Bible teaches us to pray and worship. It sounds radical in the Bible, and it sounds downright dangerous in contemporary usage.

For example, read Jeremiah 20:7-18. Here are some some highlights, rephrased into the vernacular by me:

God, you’ve conned me. You’ve made me into a laughingstock. Your word is a cause of derision and rejection. I’d love to stop talking about you, but unfortunately I can’t. Cursed be the day I was born. It would have been better if I’d died in the womb, or my mother murdered, than to live this life.

Or try Jeremiah 15:15-21.

God, I did everything you asked me to, but it now appears you have just given me unceasing pain, refused to take it away and proven yourself to be deceitful.

Yes, he said deceitful. Lamenters don’t always get their theology right. In the midst of pain, our prayers and complaints are covered up in emotion, and that emotion often isn’t the kind of “everything in its place” theology smiley happy religious people need.

Similar material can be found throughout the Bible, from whole chapters in Job to long sections of the Psalms to statements by Jesus that we all know, like “Why have you forsaken me?” As I said, we all know it’s there, but we don’t like to think about what it means. We’re trained to stick with what won’t make anyone blink and wince.

Lament can be direct and blunt, full of anger, depression and bitterness, directed at God in direct address. It can be subdued and quiet, barely detectable. It can be complaints to other persons of faith, or it can simply be the lamenter talking to him/herself.

Abraham lamented. So did Moses. So did David. So did Job. So did most of the prophets and yes, even Jesus on occasion.

Communal laments are common in the Psalms, reflecting Israel’s experience of questioning the covenant and experiencing the dark side of their faith. You’ll never read the Psalms in a disciplined way without having to deal with the implications of lamentation and the goodness/sovereignty of God.

An entire book of the older testament laments the destruction of Jerusalem, the temple and covenant certainties.

So, how does this get a writer or preacher in trouble again?

When contemporary Christians, especially preachers and teachers, use the language of lament, it’s Biblical context is lost on some hearers, and all they hear is doubt and denial. (Trust me on that one. I have much experience.) In fact, what they are actually hearing is faith; faith finding its voice and regaining its foundation after distressing life experiences and disappointments.

The language of lament is not welcome in most contemporary Christianity. Evangelicals in particular must be held responsible for creating an atmosphere where a person in pain and loss cannot speak in the SAME LANGUAGE THE BIBLE USES (excuse the caps. Sorry.) without running the risk of controversy and heresy.

How many churches have people who need to have their own unspoken laments affirmed by the Biblical language of lament and the experiences of God’s people in lamentation, but are denied the opportunity to feel human because Christians are so invested in maintaining illusions.

Ironically, Christians specialize in the language of glory and triumph, gullibly believing any report of miracles and healings must be true in order to prove that God is still doing what they’ve been told he should always do, but it is the experience and language of lament- disappointment and sorrow- that would tell honest unbelievers that we live in the same world as they do, yet still believe in God. Our proficiency in triumphalism backfires with the genuine souls who want to know if God is still there when he seems so absent

Saturday Ramblings, April 11, 2015

Human head transplants, Polar-bear-sized aliens, and the sex lives of grilled cheese eaters: welcome to the weekend!  Let’s ramble! And let’s break out the rag-top, baby, it’s spring!1964-Rambler-American-440-ConvertibleWell, that’s a relief: The life-sized replica of Noah’s Ark is still alive. “Despite all the naysayers, and the enormous amount of false information certain people and organizations have spread about this project — it is moving ahead nicely toward the opening in 2016. We just praise the Lord for this,” Ken Ham said in a Facebook message on Thursday, accompanied by this picture:

"And we'll have it ramming a life-sized tower of Babel"
“And we’ll have it ramming a life-sized tower of Babel”

Rand Paul, Senator from Kentucky, has announced his candidacy for the presidency this week. I don’t really know much about him, but he certainly doesn’t pander to the crowd.  The following quotes are from his speeches to Family Research Council’s Values Voter Summit — an annual gathering of social conservatives considered necessary to winning the evangelical vote.

My faith has never been easy for me, never been easy to talk about and never been without obstacles. I do not and cannot wear my religion on my sleeve. I am a Christian but not always a good one. I’m not completely free of doubts. I struggle to understand man’s inhumanity to man…

My first patient as a medical student on the surgical service was a beautiful young woman who unfortunately presented with metastatic melanoma to her ovaries. She didn’t die during my time caring for her, but I knew enough to know that her time was limited. And I struggled to understand her tragedy and how tragedy could occur in a world that has purpose and design… I struggle to understand how evil individuals sometimes reap earthly rewards and saintly heroes are martyred by their fellow man. 

It is unacceptable not to hate war. I’m not a pacifist, but I do think it unacceptable not to hate war. I’m dismissive of those who champion war as sport and show no reluctance to engage in war. Any leader who shows glee or eagerness for war should not be leading any nation…Though I hate war, I could commit a nation to war, but only reluctantly and constitutionally and after great deliberation… At the same time I’m conflicted. I don’t believe Jesus would have killed anyone or condoned killing, perhaps not even in self-defense. I’m conflicted.

Continue reading “Saturday Ramblings, April 11, 2015”

iMonk Classic: Death: The Road that Must Be Traveled

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Dennis Michael Spencer. Sept. 16, 1956 – April 5, 2010.

 

Note from CM: This week, as we commemorate Michael Spencer’s passing five years ago, we thank God for the hope of eternal life and hear this reminder from Michael:

“…the Christian does not see death as the triumph of death, but as the giving way of death to life. In the final moments, this world must release its deadly hold, and eternal life takes control entirely. For the faithful, death is not an ending, but a birth.”

• • •

DEATH: THE ROAD THAT MUST BE TRAVELED 
For this boy, coming to terms with death ain’t no easy thing.
by Michael Spencer, the Internet Monk

Perhaps passing through the gates of death is like passing through the gate in a pasture fence. On the other side, you keep walking, without the need to look back. No shock, no drama, just the lifting of a plank or two in a simple wooden gate in a clearing. Neither pain, nor floods of light, nor great voices, but just the silent crossing of a meadow.

• Mark Helprin, “A Soldier In The Great War”

6245084840_468180638d_zI’ll make it simple: I don’t want to die. I, a Christian, a minister and a person of faith, do not want to die. The thought fills me with fear, and I am ashamed at how little faith I have in the face of what is a universal and uncontrollable human experience.

I’ll die, no matter how I feel about dying, but I’m not at peace with the reality of death right now, and my fear of death is becoming a more frequent visitor to the dark side of my soul. I’ve never been a brave person, but bravery isn’t the issue anymore. It’s acceptance and faith that rests in God, rather than denial, avoidance and the terror of my fears.

Near number one on my list of things I don’t like about Christians is the suggestion I should have a happy and excited attitude about dying. “Uncle Joe got cancer and died in a month. Glory hallelujah. He’s in a better place and if you love the Lord that’s where you want to be right now. When the doctor says your time has come, you ought to shout praises to the Lord.” Or this one. “I’d rather be in heaven. Wouldn’t you? This earth is not my home. I’d rather be with Jesus and Mama and Peter and Abraham than spend one more day in this world of woe.”

Not me. Not by a long shot. I like this world of woe, and I really don’t want to leave it.

My bad attitude hasn’t held me back as a minister. I can do a good funeral. Probably some of my best moments in the pulpit have been talking about heaven and what the Bible says about death. But there always was this one thing: it was the other guy who was dead. Not me. So I automatically had a more positive attitude.

With the arrival of middle age, my fear of death has perched itself on my shoulder like a talking parrot. It waits until every other thought and concern has quieted down, and then it squawks as loudly as possible: “You’re going to die, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” It particularly likes to show up when I am going to sleep at night. I’ll say my prayers, begin to doze off, and SQUAWK- “Just a reminder big guy, you’re going to die.” For a few moments, I live in panic, fear and despair.

Call me whatever unspiritual names you like, but I don’t want to die. Everything about me wants to be alive in this world. I don’t want to say good-bye to my wife, children and friends. I don’t want there to be a last sermon, a last day at home, or a last drive in the country. When someone says we were made for heaven, I say “OK, but that’s not the way it seems to me. I appear to be made for living in this body, in this world and enjoying it.” I haven’t heard a prospect for heaven yet that sounds better than eating at my favorite barbecue place, making love, or going to the ball park. (But then I always have a bad attitude at Christian events held in stadiums. The food lines are too long. “Well, in heaven, we won’t eat.” See, here we go again.)

Death is so unwelcome, so final, so alien and so frightening to me that I am afraid to think about it for any extended period of time, and possibly find some remedy for the situation. I’ve never talked to anyone about this fear, more than just mentioning it to my wife. Such a conversation paralyzes me even as I type the possibility. I’ve avoided excellent books by helpful people, because the whole thing just creeps me out and sends me to the pits. I will admit the reason I am writing this essay is so I will have to think about it. I truly want to come to terms with the fact that I am going to die, and I want to find the peace of Christ about dying. But I’m honest–it’s going to be hard. No matter how many other Christians die, and no matter what I say or others say about death when it happens, I am clinging to life on planet earth with both hands and all my strength. I’m a tough case. And I don’t think that I’m alone.

Continue reading “iMonk Classic: Death: The Road that Must Be Traveled”

What Michael continues to teach me about the one holy, catholic, and apostolic church


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I believe in one holy, catholic, and apostolic church, but regret that it doesn’t exist.

• William Temple

• • •

Michael Spencer has been one of my best, most reliable guides in the post-evangelical life I now live. I find it ironic that, at this stage of my life, our experiences of church mirror each other.

It might be said that Michael never truly found a “church home” as a post-evangelical. His isolated living situation in the hills of eastern Kentucky was a main reason. There simply weren’t congregations in his vicinity that worshiped and functioned as practicing representatives of the Great Tradition of creedal, evangelical, ecumenical, liturgical faith and practice. As we heard in the podcast earlier this week, he sought that and tried to create that but ultimately decided it was prudent to participate in the little Southern Baptist church at his doorstep. Furthermore, as the Spencers entered the “empty nest” stage of their life Michael’s wife Denise was on her own journey and chose to go beyond what Michael could do in good conscience as a Reformation Christian — she joined the Roman Catholic Church.

Keep in mind that Michael still lived and served every day in an intentional Christian mission community, teaching students at the boarding school, leading chapel, giving spiritual counsel, and interacting with the brothers and sisters among whom he lived. And of course he wrote and ministered to a growing audience of people through Internet Monk, his podcasts, and the opportunities for speaking and serving that those activities brought him. He had a missional calling broader than that of the local congregation which led him into an even more intense walk with Christ and others.

So how can we possibly say that Michael Spencer had “no church home”? Such language only has meaning in a culture where “church membership” equates to putting my name on the rolls of an organization comprised of one group of Christians that is distinct from another organization right down the street which is likewise made up of a Christian constituency. More on that in a minute.

I feel similarly “disconnected” when it comes to a “church home” for my family and me. Gail and I are empty nesters, no kids around any more, and I guess I thought this season of our life might signal a return to the kind of partnership in congregational life we enjoyed before the children came along. It hasn’t happened yet. We belong to an ELCA Lutheran congregation, but our involvement is limited. Gail directs a choir at another church and has to leave during or shortly after our worship service, and so we don’t get to spend our Sunday mornings together like we used to. We both often work into the evening, so participating in meetings during the week is a problem. She attends a morning Bible study at a third church. I write Internet Monk after coming home from my chaplain ministry. We’re doing different things and it feels scattered and disjointed and it challenges my OCD preferences for an “ordered” life which contains more habits that revolve around belonging to a church family. Yet every day as a chaplain I serve in a broader parish, getting into neighborhoods and homes where any church I might join could never be found.

I guess I can’t call myself a “churchman” anymore. I love the church, am concerned about the church, think about the church all the time, and consider ecclesiology to be one of the greatest issues Christians face in our day. But the “local church” — that real organization with a building and meetings and activities — gets little of my own personal attention these days.

However, Michael’s experience (and mine) has turned this whole idea of “belonging to a church” on its head for me.

Let me start by saying that the quote by William Temple at the top of this post is dead wrong, a classic example of missing the most important point. Temple said, “I believe in one holy, catholic, and apostolic church, but regret that it doesn’t exist.” I am coming to see that it does indeed exist, that it’s all around us in plain sight, and that the real problem lies in us and the ways we fail to comprehend it, not in the non-existence of the one holy, catholic, and apostolic church.

I think I can get at what I’m trying to say by framing it with two questions:

(1) What does God see when he looks at the church?

(2) What does God require when he calls us to live as part of a faith community?

michael_spencerWhen God looks at the church, I believe he sees one holy, catholic, and apostolic church. God only has one congregation. Every single assembly within that congregation and every individual member is badly flawed, each group all along the spectrum of doctrines is wrong about certain truths or emphases, all segments of the church are poor at living out a variety of virtues and missions to which God calls them. I am not saying every group within the Church is the same, that differences don’t matter, that all streams of tradition are equally muddy or polluted. But I am saying there is ultimately only one church. It exists. God sees it. We’re all a part of it. If I am a Christian, I have a church home. I am a member of Christ’s Body. I belong to the Church.

I also belong to a local expression of the Church. I live in Franklin, Indiana and am therefore a member of “God’s Church in Franklin.” It doesn’t matter if I’m a “member” of St. Rose, Grace Methodist, Franklin Memorial Christian, Franklin Community, the Assembly of God, Good Shepherd Lutheran, Hopewell Presbyterian, Friendship Baptist, or Journey Church. Or any one of the dozens and dozens of individual congregations in our little town. Together, and along with those who don’t identify with any particular congregation, we — all of us — are this area’s local expression of the one holy, catholic, and apostolic church. No one congregation or group in our town can claim that. We are all part of the Church in Franklin, and I think God looks at us that way — just as he looked at “the church in Rome” and included in that designation groups of believers scattered throughout the city and region.

We’re all members. We may not act like it. We may not accept others as part of it. We may even actively work against some other groups within it and they against us. That’s what William Temple was getting at, I assume. He doesn’t see that one church operating in the world as it should. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Nor is its existence a mere matter of theory in some mystical or spiritual sense, as though there were some “universal church” ideal. No. The Church of God in Jesus Christ is incarnate, literally inhabited by all who by grace through faith in Christ have been welcomed into the family. It is made up of real flesh and blood people. Real congregations. Real mission groups. Real communities.

So, sorry William Temple. I believe in one holy, catholic, and apostolic church. It’s real. It exists. I regret that we don’t get it, have never gotten it, and probably won’t ever get it, but it’s there and we’re a part of it. I have a church home and so do you. So did Michael Spencer. The fact that he and I have often lamented our “homelessness” here on this blog doesn’t change that. As I have meditated upon his experiences, I might be starting to get it. No one in Jesus Christ is homeless just because they don’t get together with a group of people and follow that organization’s way of “doing church.”

So, what does God require when he calls us to live as part of a faith community? It is not about “getting involved” in a local congregation. It might be. Then again, it might look completely different than that. It is not about becoming a member of an organization, supporting its programs, attending its services, participating in its activities. You may or may not do any or all of that. You may work on Sunday and be unable to go to church. You might not have two pennies to rub together and can’t give financially. You may have commitments that keep you from going to meetings, serving on committees, teaching, or ministering in some other way. You may even decide a particular congregation is not for you (for whatever reason) and go across town to identify with another. You’re still part of “The Church in ______.” It is essential that we deconstruct the institutional mindset that keeps us thinking we’re failing God if we’re not “good church people.”

None of that really, at the core, matters. You are still part of the church, and what God asks is that you follow Jesus in a life of faith, hope, and love. That you pray in the manner of the Lord’s Prayer, recognizing that “you” are part of a “we” that is praying to “our” Father and joining with us all in asking that his will be done on earth as in heaven.

Michael and I related and served in church congregations for so long and were involved so deeply that it has felt strange and wrong to not have that in our lives in the same way and to the same extent. It feels like wilderness. Maybe it’s not wilderness after all. Maybe it is just an unrecognized path to a new and different appreciation of what the life of faith and “church” is all about.

Some good Michael Spencer quotes — 2004-2009

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2004 — What about the day after the party?

I think it’s provable again and again that what we are comfortable saying to an unbeliever, we aren’t comfortable saying to a Christian. The Gospel is for Christians, too. We love the story of the Prodigal son. Now, what about the day after the party? What if the son messed up again in a week? What if he doesn’t live the life of a grateful son? Or to be more realistic, what if he sometimes does and sometimes doesn’t? Does that change the Father? Does the older brother get to come back into the story and say “Aha!! I was right!” Christ died for the sins of Christians, and we need to hear that over and over again.

• from Preaching Grace Is a Risky Business, 3/7/04

Continue reading “Some good Michael Spencer quotes — 2004-2009”