Questing Parson

Is There A Way to Have a Civil Conversation Between the Religious Right and Left?

Krista Tippett, in this unedited video, moderates a conversation between Jim Daly, President of Focus on the Family, and Gabe Lyons, founder of Q: Ideas for Common Good.  -  This is a compelling discussion with implications for all of us.

A Terribly Good Sermon

The parson was seated with four seminary students at Everybody's. For the unsophisticated, Everybody's was a unique emporium of pizza delight located across the street from the entrance gate of Emory University. The parson was delighted that today's seminary students still gravitated toward to Everybody's as had his generation.

While the students talked, the parson gazed out the window remembering his seminary days, when Everybody's waitress wore t-shirts, only t-shirts; when the war in Vietnam was being doggedly protested on the campus, when the school's policy stated that class attendance was not a perquisite for grades; and when, the parson and his best friend, a friend here unnamed because of his prominence as senior pastor at a really, really big church, spent a good many of their seminary days feasting upon the pizza at Everybody's, as well as sampling the various beverages offered in pitchers to accompany the entree. Ah, but the early 1970s were part of a previous century. The parson turned his attention back to the conversation of the seminary students.

“It was really a terrible sermon,” said one of the students, a seminarian from a state on the other side of the continent. “I'll never forget it.” She then went on to state the three points of the sermon, including an illustration the preacher gave for two of the points. “And then,” she said, “his conclusion was, get this, his conclusion was ….”

“Are you serious?” asked another student. “He actually preached that. What a terrible thing. I don't know how you could sit and listen to it.”

“That was a horrible sermon,” said a third student.

“What do you thing, Parson,” asked a fourth student.

“The parson deliberately chewed a moment on his pizza, holding up his hand to the students in a gesture of apology. Pizza consumed, he took a sip from his mug, then asked, “Did you say you heard this sermon when you were sixteen?”

“I did,” the original critic of the sermon replied.

“How old are you?” the parson asked.

“I'm twenty-eight,” she replied.

“So, you're telling me you heard a sermon twelve years ago and today you can repeat all three points, the illustrations for each, and the conclusion, and it was a terrible sermon?”

“It was,” she insisted.

“No,” said the parson. “It wasn't. It was a great sermon; it just didn't fit your theology. But any sermon you can remember for twelve years is a great sermon.”

The students were silent.

The parson asked, “How about another pitcher?”

The Pretend Atheist

The parson sat at his favorite table, in a back corner, of Peggy's Cholesterol-laden Gastronomic Breakfast Delight Cafe. He was sopping up the runny yoke of two Sunny-side Up Eggs that had been served up on an island of toast smothered in butter with two pancakes covered in Georgia Cane Syrup along with three patties of sausage and two strips of thick bacon. Peggy, herself – not a server, but Peggy herself, leaned over the parson's table as she refilled his mug with her specially blended decaf.

“Thanks, Peggy,” said the parson.

“No problem, Parson,” she replied, “and no I don't want to buy another raffle ticket to your church's fundraiser.”

The parson smiled, leaned back in his chair, punched the power button on his iPad and started to read the morning paper. He was able to read two complete articles and was halfway through the third when the voice interrupted him.

“Excuse me,” the voice said, “are you the parson?”

The parson looked up to see a man dressed professionally. He had the appearance he might be a lawyer about to argue an important case before the Superior Court. “I am,” said the parson. “I'm sorry; do we know each other?”

“We don't,” said the man. “That's why I stopped to speak to you.”

“You stopped to speak to me because we don't know each other?”

“I did. Look, I got that stupid postcard from your church inviting me to come visit and be a part of all that stuff your church is doing.”

“Oh, wonderful,” the parson responded. “Great. I'm so glad to hear someone responded to the invitation.”

“Yeah, well, I tell you what, Parson. You can shove that card of yours where the sun doesn't shine.”

“Excuse me.”

“I said; you heard what I said. I'm an atheist and I don't appreciate your church sending out those cards to anyone in the community. You've offended me. As an atheist I resent your damn card.”

“You're not,” said the parson.

“I'm not what?” asked the man.

“You're not an atheist.

“The hell I'm not; what makes you think I'm not an atheist.”

“If you were really and atheist, my friend, you'd have thrown that postcard in the card in the trash and shaken your head at my naivete. But you didn't. Instead you decided to confront me about a silly little postcard. So I tell you what: When you and God get finished with this argument you seem to be having, the invitation will still be open.”

Fight Homelessness Thru Cow-A-Bunga Bingo

Okay, bear with me.

First, let me state from the beginning: My church has obtained a raffle license from the Sheriff of Gordon County, Georgia. And you don't mess with a Georgia Sheriff; so, this endeavor is legal

Second, my church, small as it is - less than a hunderd members, maintains more ministries than most churches. Among those, these folks provide for three transitional houses for women with children. We do this in cooperation with Action Ministries, the homeless arm of the North Georgia Conference of the United Methodist Church. This ministry has an 87% success rate in taking homeless women with children and moving them from homelessness to full-time employment with their own housing and independence. In the last thee years we even had a woman with two children living in one motel room move from that to management at one of the nation's major carpet industries.

It costs my little congregation and Action Ministries a lot of money to do this. Our little church's share is close to $15,000 per year. So we're having a fundraiser.

You can be a part. Here's the deal:

On October 6th, a Saturday, we will have our church yard lined off into squares, resembling a Bingo Card. This will represent our Cow-A-Bunga-Bingo!! At 11:00 a.m. on the designated day we will turn Molly the Cow loose in the yard. She will graze at her heart's content. BUT if Molly the Cow happens to make a deposit in the squre that corresponds to your raffle ticket number you will win -- get ready -- you will win $1000. Did you get that ONE THOUSAND?

Now the ticket cost only $10. You can obtain a ticket by mailing your $10, check or money order made out to "The Farmville Church", to:

The Farmville Church
6906 Fairmount Highway
Calhoun, Georgia 30701

Please include your Name, Address, Telephone Number, Email, etc., so we can contact you if Molly makes a deposit on your investment. The parson will fill out your ticket and mail it back to you.

Come on folks, pony up. We need your help and some folks say Molly is partial to Questing Parson readers.

Confidence Building

Answering the phone, a familiar voice echoed in my ear.

“Hi, it's me. Just thought I'd call and talk a while. I haven't seen you for a month. So, how are you?

“I'm good,” I said, “I'm really good. How about you?”

“I'm really good, too,” she said. “You know we really ought to talk more. We don't get to see each other enough so we ought to call more often.”

“You're right,” I said, “I couldn't agree more. Let's plan on it.”

“We will. So how are things going. Have you done anything fun lately?”

“Not too exciting. I've been hiking in the forest at least once a week. That's good exercise. Since we got back from Alaska I decided I needed to keep in shape. That hike up the glacier almost killed me.”

“That really was fun,” she affirmed. “I keep telling all my friends about it. They can't believe all the stuff we did. I took that picture of us going through those rapids up at Denali to school. They couldn't believe we did all that.”

“Well, we did it, but you and your sister just about wore me out.”

“I don't think so. You're in pretty good shape for a grandfather. You should be proud of being able to do all the stuff you do.”

“Well, I am,” I said. “I guess I'm a little proud of being able to tag along with you guys.”

“You know what's the best thing that's come out of all these adventures you've taken us on?”

“What's that?”

“The best thing that's happened is the confidence you've given us. Do you remember that my little sister was afraid of heights before we started climbing that mountain. I've got that picture of her standing on the edge of that rock overhang. It's hard to believe that's her. And you gave me the same confidence. I really owe you for that. You know, I've started doing a lot more things. I mean, I've started taking chances I'd never have done before. And I owe it all to you. You changed my life. You helped me get where I can take chances and, you know, do things I'd never have thought about doing before. I don't think I've every told you how much that means to me.”

“Well, it means a lot that you'd say that. I'm glad you're taking risks.”

“I am, and guess what?”

“What?”

“I've decided to enter the My High School Queen contest. I would never have done that before without you building my confidence.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear that. And win or lose you're my Princess.”

“I know. And, well, I need to ask you something important about the contest.””

“What's that?”

“I need sponsors. I need people to donate some money to sponsor me. It can be ten or twenty dollars or whatever, and they'll put your name in the program. Can you help? I mean, I wouldn't be in this contest if it weren't for you.”

We talked a little more. I agreed. She hung up. Life is funny. My granddaughter is growing up. She's a young woman now, fifteen and going on twenty. It's interesting. A few years back she'd have just called and said, “Would you mind giving me twenty dollars?”

Thank You For Your Service and I'm Praying For Your Return

The parson pulled out his laptop as he sat in the waiting room of the doctor's office. He'd brought his uncle, for whom he acted as a guardian, for a checkup. Now, his uncle in the doctor's exam room, the parson decided to write a blog while he waited.

What to write on? Francis volunteering to tutor kids in the transitional housing ministry? Frank telling the parson he'd fund the upcoming project to aid the local school providing clothing to indigent children? The possibilities were endless. The challenge, as always, was which idea would mesh with the parson's current frame of mind. He pondered the possibilities.

Across the room, and it was a large room, a man began to speak on a cell phone.

“Look, I don't care what the problem is, you tell him I want a warrant taken out. That no good woman should never have spent that money on a new car. That's just stupid. I know Eddie wouldn't ever tell her to do that. Look, he's in the Army, serving his country, over there fighting for our freedom. Do you think he'd send his re-enlistment money to her to buy a new car? I don't think so. So, you go down to the court house and take out a warrant on her? Do you hear what I'm saying?”

There was a pause. The man was apparently listening to the other person talk. It gave the parson pause to reflect on the phenomenon of the twenty-first century, that being some people, when speaking on a cell phone, think they are in a twentieth century phone booth.

After hearing what the person on the other end of the conversation said, the man continued, “I don't care if they're married. Listen, he met that woman in North Carolina when he was home for some kind of training. I mean how long could he have know her? He's just not using his head. So hear we are now with him sending her money home and what does she do? She buys a new car. Do you think he'd want her to use that money for a new car? I don't think so. She hasn't known him long enough to know him the way we do. So, I'm telling you I want you to take out a warrant for her for theft by deception. That's what she's doing to him; she's stealing from him by deceiving him.

“Hell, the next think will be when he comes home and then she tells us she's pregnant. No telling what she'll want him to do with his combat pay then. Look, I don't care if they're married. He's over there fighting and she's over here spending his money. We need to take a stand and let her know we won't put up with it.”

The parson's uncle walked back into the waiting room, his examination completed. The parson rose, walked with his uncle to the car, placed his walker in the trunk and walked to the driver's door. Before opening the door he pulled out his iPhone, punched the “Notes” icon. Then under “Prayer List” he added: “Pray for soldier, that God will protect him in his deployment and give him strength for the battle that waits when he returns home.”

No Answer to the Questions

The parson walked across the campus of the big university in the really, really big city on of which the seminary was part. He'd been at hospital where occasionally he volunteered for some testing and procedures in the cardiac clinic. Now he was headed to the seminary library to look up a couple of obscure facts and to continue his pretense of being a scholar.

Absconded in a corner of the library, the parson was reading about the history of several churches in his conference, churches who had been in existence during the expansion of his denomination in the eighteenth century. His study was interrupted.

“Parson, what are you doing here?”

The parson turned to see Emily Watson, the daughter of a dear friend, now a student at the seminary. “I'm just reading up on some church history no one else is interested in,” said the parson. “It's really good to see you. How are your studies coming?”

Emily sighed. “Can I talk with you a minute?”

“Sure,” the parson replied, “have a seat.”

Emily seated herself across the table from the parson. She looked intensely at the parson for a moment then said, “How long does it take to be certain?”

“Certain about what?” the parson asked.

“I'm not sure, Parson. It's just that, well, I'm in my second year now, and it seems the more I learn the more questions I have to ask.” Emily then began to relate her studies of the early theologians, Augustine and others; she talked of the writings of Kant, of Bonhoeffer, of current religious thinkers.

“I read and read but the more I study the more questions I have. I wish, Parson, I could be as certain as you are.”

“You think I'm certain about things?”

“Well, you always seem to have the answers to the questions.”

“Oh, Emily, I don't. I don't. I'm just like you, Emily, every time I turn a page I find a new question.”

“Doesn't that discourage you?”

“Not one bit,” said the parson. “Not one bit. If I had the answer to all the questions I'd no longer be able to marvel at the mystery.”

Stretching the Truth

I am not sure when this revelation of truth came to me. Perhaps it was in a dream; perhaps in a sudden revelation as I gazed upon the eternal vastness of the night sky; perhaps it was following some esoteric moment of revelation. Who knows; whatever the source the truth came tumbling down like the avalanche of incessant truth that here and there intrudes upon our collective consciousness. Whatever the source it came to me; it came to me in a flash of light; it came to me with the quickened process of revelation. I cannot deny it and neither can you.

I speak, of course, of that commonality which you and I, dear reader, possess. That strand of humanity that binds us together as brothers and sisters in the ever-evolving process of development as humankind., I speak, well, you know, dear reader of which I speak. I speak of our shared ability, our shared propensity for hedging the truth. Take note of that phrase, please: “Hedging the truth.” It is a synonym for lying. And we both(Don't even attempt to deny it.) are complicit in the deception. You and I, both, are consummate liars.

Herewith I present my evidence of your, and my, guilt:

Ring! Ring!

The phone echoes in the recesses of your mind. It takes a moment for you to ascertain what is happening. With a determined effort you pry open the lids of your eyes. The glow of the clock registers in an eerie glow, penetrating the darkness of your bedroom, six in the morning. You answer the phone.

“Hello.”

“Hi, this is your friend. Did I wake you?”

Now, dear reader, I need go no further. Everyone in your acquaintance knows that the sound of that phone waked you. But what do you say?

“No, I've been up for a while. What's up?”

That's a lie, my friend. You lied. You had not been up. Why didn't you just tell your friend to stop calling as such ungodly hours?

I know. You're going to tell me it's just a “little white lie.” True enough; I'll grant you that. Nevertheless, I feel I must ask you as I ask myself, why do we feel this compulsive need to tell folks they have not inconvenienced us when they have?

Here's another example.

“Ring. Ring.”

“Hello.”

“Hi, this if Francis. Hey, look, I know it's an inconvenience, but do you think you could give Cousin Franklin a ride to the doctor next Thursday. It would be a really big favor.”

Now at this point several things run through your mind. The first thing is how much of a grouch Cousin Franklin is. The second thing is that Francis' kids are all grown and have left home. The third thing is Francis doesn't have a job and sits at home all day long. But you don't mention those things; do you? You don't suggest that Francis get up from watching General Hospital and take Franklin to the doctor herself. You say, “Well, I suppose I could.”

Thanks for being a Samaritan; but you lied.

You can probably think of a hundred more times you stretched the truth. But I know the most consistent stretching of the truth you practice. It's on Sunday morning. You know when. You walk out of the church and say with a straight face, “I really enjoyed the sermon, Pastor.”

An Election Observation

Okay, I confess it: I'm a political junkie. As such, I watched every minute I could of the Republican National Convention. And now I've watched the first day of the Democratic National Convention. I've come to a conclusion.

Now, I try, on this blog, to be politically neutral (although I'm aware if you've read more than a dozen of my posts you may be able to deduce where my political leanings lie). Having said that, I offer this political assessment

I watched every day of the Republican National Convention. Now, I've watched only the first day of the Democratic National Convention. I have come to a conclusion: 

Apparently a course in Effective Public Speaking is not a prequisite for being a player in the Republical Party. 

An Election Observation

Okay, I confess it: I'm a political junkie. As such, I watched every minute I could of the Republican National Convention. And now I've watched the first day of the Democratic National Convention. I've come to a conclusion.

Now, I try, on this blog, to be politically neutral (although I'm aware if you've read more than a dozen of my posts you may be able to deduce where my political leanings are lie). Having said that, I offer this political assessment

I watched every day of the Republican National Convention. Now, I've watched only the first day of the Democratic National Convention. I have come to a conclusion: 

Apparently a course in Effective Public Speaking is not a prequisite for being a player in the Republical Party.