Questing Parson

Join the Conversation

At 3:00 p.m. EDT, today, Diana Butler Bass and New York Times columnist Ross Douthat will participate in a conversation about the “Future of Faith.” The conversation is hosted by Yale Divinity School.

Dr. Bass' book, Christianity After Religion, addresses the fact of religion, and particularly Christianity being reshaped by today's changing world. She also suggests that religious life has been greatly influenced by the Franciscan revolution, the Protestant Reformation, the Wesleyan revival and the three Great Awakenings of North America, and that we may be at the dawn of a new awakening. (See Dr. Bass' blog on Huggington Post)

You can watch the conversation live on Livestream.

A Looming Issue

There's an election tomorrow. Have you heard?

The pundits still say it's going to be a close one. There's even the possibility of one winning without the majority of the popular vote, again.

What disturbs me most about this election is the possibility one man will win and we all will lose.

We have become a divided nation, a nation of dogmatic positions, of uncompromising demands, a nation of “my way or the highway.”

I can't tell you which program it was, but on a National Public Radio program in the last few days they reported on the extremes to which we've gone. One family was having a cookout, barbequed ribs on the grill. But the husband of the host family told his brother-in-law he would have to bring his own ribs if he was going to vote for President Obama.

I'm not sure exactly what the implications of that conditioned invitation were, the thought a vote could be bought for the price of some ribs, the proclamation of “you're not welcome unless you conform to my views,” or simply “I'm the north end of the southbound horse married to your sister.”

I am sure of this. We are a house divided. We have become a people who believe that those who disagree with us are the enemy. We have little patience for those on the opposite side of the political issue.

Sadly, much of the division is based on a particular religious perspective. It's one I'm not comfortable with, one based on dogmatism, a certainty of the will of God. It is that position that makes me uncomfortable. What kind of God would be a God whose absolute will I could comprehend?

Years ago, I read Michelle Goldberg's Kingdom Coming, The Rise of Christian Nationalism. In this book she illustrates how an increasingly uncompromising fundamentalism is gaining traction in our political processes. She illustrates the ever-widening gap between the believers and the non-believers. I have this dread that, whatever the results of the election, we will be drawn more and more into this divide and the possibility of bridging the chasm will become more and more difficult.

There are times when I feel part of the problem is the hesitancy of those less fundamental, more tolerant of other views, lest prone to wish for some type of oligarchical outcome of the electoral process, never standing up to the fundamental assumptions of the other side. And yet, to stand up with any sense of insistence, would move toward the same intolerance that makes the other side unattractive.

I don't have an answer here. I just raise the question. And I'm firmly convinced that whatever the outcome, whether Mitt Romney is elected or Barack Obama gets another four years, it will not be either of the candidates abilities that determine our future. It will, rather, be our ability to confront, deal with, and resolve the divide between the religious right and left.

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.

Secular Preaching?

The parson was selecting some choice meats for the week's groceries. As was his custom he scoured the meats first, looking for values. Once the values were chosen he headed to the produce section where he'd round out his menu planning for the week. Produce was the challenge for the parson. Choice meats could be sliced up and frozen for several day's consumption. Fresh vegetables usually had to be purchased in quantities that did not lend themselves to freshness at week's end. It was the challenge for a widower living alone.

The parson had made his selections, had wandered up and down the aisles selecting the items needed to round out his week's menu, and was now browsing the beverage section in search of some Alice White Australian and Robertson South African wines. As he puzzled for another time over the reasoning behind the store's place of the various wines on the shelves, he heard a voice.

“Parson, what are you doing on this aisle?”

The parson turned to see Freddie Chambers, pastor of the Gird Thy Loins From Sin Lest You Fail to Obtain Celestial Glory Church of the Blessed Redeemed, looking at him with a puzzled look on his face.

“Ah, Freddie, I'm on this aisle because I'm looking for a nice red wine to compliment the pasta with asparagus sauce I'm planning to cook tonight.”

“You drink, Parson?” asked Freddie.

“Sometimes I do,” the parson replied. “Sometimes I use a funnel.”

Immediately the parson realized Freddie didn't get the joke. He decided to drop it but was now conflicted as to whether to direct his full attention to Freddie or to continue looking for the distinctive Alice White label. Freddie helped guide him out of his dilemma.

“Parson, you fascinate me. You know, here you are on the wine aisle of the church, and I know that a couple of days ago you were at one of the Rome Braves game. My nephew said he saw you there. I read your column in the newspaper and you mentioned that you spent time hiking at Cloudland Canyon State Park. I also know you're taking time off to go to Alaska. I don't understand how you can spend so much time in secular activities and still preach the gospel every Sunday.

The parson hesitated in his answer, not because he was at a loss for an answer but because his eyes had just zeroed in on the distinctive teardrop bottle of a Robertson wine.

“It's called preaching from life's experiences, Freddie.”

“Well, I prefer to spend my time in communion with the Lord in my study each day,” said Freddie.

“You're much more lucky than I,” the parson responded. “God seems to have chosen not to inhabit in my study.”

Supplement to the Annual Report

Dear Church Superior:

RE: My Supplement to the Year-End Report for My Church

First, if you will permit a bit of self-pontificating, I'd like to point out that I, he who am retired and does not have to fear retribution, got my report in well ahead of schedule. In fact, after talking with the person you appointed to oversee the compilation of these reports, I turned my report in when over seventy percent of the other clergy, (Shall we classify them as “non-company” clergy?) had yet to submit their report.

Secondly, an observation: I have been a United Methodist pastor for forty-five years. For the first time in my experience the report asked for my church's “GCFA Church Number.” Okay, I have no idea what GCFA stands for much less what the number is. Luckily, being the experienced parson that I am, I called the person you appointed to oversee the efforts of the clergy to compile these useless statistics and asked him what my GCFA number was. He told me; I proceeded to input such. But I did proceed with the question of why my GCFA number (whatever it stands for) would be any different than the usual number assigned to my church. But I realize I could be just a grumpy old man.

Third, I regret that for the first time in ten years I was unable to report there were not “professions of faith” to report. I know that would endanger my advancement up the clergy ladder in normal circumstances, but, in my case, I'm retired. And, see below, there are more important things that professions of faith.

Fourth, please note that we have upgraded the value of our property from $400,000 to $1,500,000. I'd be grateful if this could be placed in my permanent personnel file, even though the upgrade was entirely the decision of our insurance company. Despite who may have initiated this upgrade, I was the pastor when it took place and therefore ….

Fifth, there are some data fields, as usual missing, from the annual report.

There is no line on which I can report that my little country church in 2010 contacted the Family Advocates of the schools in our county to ask them which children are considered indigent. The family advocates then sent out a letter to those children's parents informing them that on the Saturday before school started in 2011 my little church would supply their kids with new clothes, back packs, all grade and school appropriate school supplies, as well as a hair cut for the boys and a visit to a beauty parlor for the girls.

There was no line on which I could report that two of my church members made their way down, in a dugout canoe, the Amazon River and then hiked with heavy back packs fifteen miles into the jungle, in order to deliver needed medical supplies to an isolated village in the jungles of Peru, nor could I report on all the children those nurses from my little country church provided medical care.

Again, there was no line to report that every Monday night at my church the doors open to Ms. Parson's Soup Kitchen where rich people and poor people sit down together to enjoy a meal together. There was no way to report how many of those poor, unemployed, people obtained jobs because they interacted with managers of industry while sharing a pot of soup.

There was no line on which to input data on the number of times members of my church took deserving rising high school seniors to visit colleges affiliated with our denomination in an effort to lift them above their present status and to see the possibilities for their future.

I'm not sure if you're aware, but in our county there are a considerable number of elderly who are semi-shut-in. It's really unfortunate that there was no line on which to report that teenagers from my church deliver weekly meals to many of those folks, and, in the delivery, sit down with those seniors and talk, and laugh, and share secrets and desires, and different generations find inspiration from each other.

Look, Church Superior, I don't want to prolong this lament of the deficiencies of the reporting system, but …..

There was no place to report the three houses, each brick with three bedrooms and located in middle class neighborhoods, that are our “transitional houses” whose operational expenses are provided through the bean suppers and the pancake breakfast events of this little church. In each of these houses resides a single mother with her children who were homeless before our church took them into this program. There was no place to report the works of the social worker hired to work with these women, assisting them to set goals, to become financially independent. There was no place to report that three families, after two years of effort, have graduated from our transitional program, that five, formerly homeless, teens are now in college. That those three families have moved out of our transitional houses and into their own abodes with hope for and skills to meet the future. Nor was there any line on which to report that as each family graduates to a new possibility another family moved into the houses,

I could go on. There's more this little country church does. But, well, you get the message. To be perfectly candid, I'm just a little tired of reporting only how much and how many. What I'd like to report to you is: This little country church of less than a hundred folks, members of a denomination whose mission statement is: “To make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world,” have decided to not pay attention to that statement and to, instead, BE DISCIPLES FOR THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE WORLD.

I remain your loyal servant,

The Parson

Stuck In My Position

The parson was once again absconded in the corner of his favorite diner. Shirley, the server, tried to make sure he enjoyed his cholesterol laden breakfast in peace. She'd done a good job, but not even Shirley could protect against the pervasive personality of Brother Robert R. Rollins, “Triple-R” to the privileged, pastor of the Bound For Glory In a Luxury Vehicle Tabernacle of the Truly Blessed.

Brother Robert slid into the booth across from the parson. The parson, in deference to the manners his Mama had taught him, put away his Kindle Fire and took the plugs from his ears. Some, observing him, might have thought him to be reading some theological article, but, in truth, the parson had been watching the Swedish movie of “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.”

“Morning, Parson. How's things with the liberal wing of the Christian community?”

“Are you still here, Robert?” the parson asked. “I guess that means the Rapture hasn't occurred yet.”

“Very funny, Parson,” said Robert. “Listen, I didn't interrupt you to argue theology with you. I wanted to talk with you about the coming election. I thought it might be good to find some common ground.”

The parson gave Robert his undivided attention. “You wanted to talk me about the election?”

“I do. Listen, Parson, some of the pastors in the area are talking about starting a campaign in the area. We're hoping to get Christian folks to be Christians in the voting booth, if you get what I mean.”

“I don't get what you mean, Robert.”

Robert leaned forward, “Okay, Parson, I think even you would agree there are certain basic fundamental Christian principles that ought to take priority in guiding a person how to vote.”

The parson didn't say anything.

“So, we're thinking about starting a campaign around the slogan 'How would Jesus vote?'”

The parson didn't say anything.

“So, what do you think?” asked Robert after a moment.

“I think I'm pretty sure how Jesus would vote, Robert. I'm more concerned with how you're going to vote.”

“What's that suppose to mean?” asked Robert.

“It means we're both stuck in our positions and I wish I could get beyond it,” the parson replied.

Robert left. Lisbeth Salander resumed her pursuit of her enemies.

One God Series ~ Three Stories; Three Faiths ~ Part 3

A Mountaintop Experience

The parson, along with his faithful canine companion, Charlie Brown, decided to skip church. It was a weekday. Hardly anyone would notice. The sky was clear. The temperature was in the mid-seventies. The parson pulled on his hiking boots. Charlie Brown danced about knowing those shoes meant new smells, new adventures.

Up the road they headed, past Carter's Lake and on to Chatsworth, where they turned right to head toward the mountain peak. Up, up the car climbed. Finally, the entrance loomed ahead. The parson entered the park, slowed down and withdrew his yearly pass from the glove compartment. The pass was hung on the rear view mirror. At the gate they took a left to head toward the hiking trail that led around the side of the mountain.

Charlie Brown bounded from the car and then jumped in circles waiting for his leash to be affixed. Once it was the two headed down the wooded path. The wind was at their back, which allowed the two deer just fifty yards from the trail to graze without Charlie Brown becoming aware of their presence. Charlie Brown, was too busy, anyway, trying to pull the ancient parson into a pace that suited his mood.

After awhile, they stopped. The parson faced a choice: Go left and he'd be treated to one of the most beautiful overlooks in North Georgia. Go right and he'd have only a short, but steep, hike to The Wall. The parson pulled his cell phone from his pocket, checked the time, and decided there was no reason why both could not be done.

Turning left Charlie Brown and the parson sought the overlook. It was downhill all the way, with an occasion set of metal stairs along the steep parts. No one was on the observation platform with its magnificent view of the valley below. The parson leaned against the rail and marveled as he always did at the beauty of the place he lived. Charlie Brown stretched out in the sun and within three minutes was snoring.

The view having been appreciated the two turned and headed back the way they'd come, uphill. As they reached the intersection where they'd face the decision they continued uphill. Uphill they went in steady but not rapid pace. Finally they arrived at the wall.

The wall was a marvel to the parson. It stretched for 855 feet, and, if one pulled out a compass one would see that the wall was on a direct path from east to west. Long ago, about the time the Jews were exiled to Babylon, the Native Americans of the middle Woodland Era gathered here on this spot, up high above the valley, and built this wall. Today it was just a row of stones. Over the years people had stolen the stones or pulled down the wall itself in a search for artifacts. But from the vast number of the stones it was obvious the wall had been impressive.

The parson sat on a log to study the wall. Here they'd had church. Here, they'd paid homage to their deity. Here they had perhaps sung their equivalent of hymns, heard their version of sermons, offered their prayers and sought the favor and blessings of the gods. In his mind's eye, the parson could see them gathered. He wondered how they were arranged for the ceremonies, he pondered how long the worship lasted.

The parson rose from the log. Charlie Brown popped upright in anticipation of more walking. The one thing the parson knew was that sooner or later these people concluded their religious ceremony and headed back down into the valley. Now he did, too. And as he did, he wondered if the priests of that day had known the same joys, frustrations, and challenges. And he lamented that today's congregations did not, as had the ancients, made time in their seasons to climb the mountain and build an altar to be closer to their God.

Krista Tippett With Rabbi David Hartman

Below is the unedited interview Krista Tippett conducted with Rabbi David Hartman, in which he confronts God in the modern world, and the deepest meaning of the Jewish state as a sacred obligation. The interview aired on "On Being" on American Public Media / National Public Radio.

 

In the Room with David Hartman from On Being on Vimeo.

Watch Out Church, Here She Comes

Her name was Elizabeth. She'd been a member of the parson's church back in a previous century. Back then, during her high school years, she was called Hat Trick by her friends. It was a reference to her ability to score three goals in the majority of soccer games she played. That ability had paid her way through college where she'd remained impressive on the pitch.

Offers to play professionally came. She was once invited to try out for the National Team. She turned all the offers down. College was finished. It was time to get serious about life. She applied to graduate school.

During her college years she and the parson kept in touch frequently. But as the parson left the church of her parents and headed to other parishes and she became deeper immersed in her studies, the contact became less frequent. The parson had been the celebrant at the Service of Resurrection for her maternal aunt. They'd agreed to meet after the service to catch up on things.

An upscale tavern like restaurant was the designated place. She and the parson were seated in a small booth opposite the bar. The server approached and asked what they would have to drink. Elizabeth looked the parson in the eye, and then turned to the server.

“What local wines do you have?”

The server said they didn't have in local wines, but they had a nice selection of wines from the Chateau Elan Winery which was about ninety miles east of their location. After some discussion Elizabeth informed the server she'd like a bottle of “Spring Blossom.”

“And for you, sir,” the server questioned the parson.

Elizabeth did not give the parson a chance to answer. “He'll have a large mug of your seasonal Samuel Adams,” she said.

The server promised a quick return just prior to Elizabeth's explanation.

“I'm not in high school anymore, Parson. I've developed a pretty good pallet for wine. And did you think that all those times I was at your house debating theology with you and Ms. Parson I didn't notice the most abundant product in your frig?”

The parson quickly changed the subject. “So what are you up to now?”

“I've almost completed my doctoral. I'm trying to get my thesis completed and defended.”

The parson interrupted, “What's your doctorate in?”

“I guess you'd best call it religious archeology,” she said. “I've been on a good many digs in Israel. Maybe you might call my doctorate emphasis, “Discovering the genesis of God.”

“Oh my, that must have been interesting. Who have you been studying with?”

She gave him a rundown of the professors who'd taken her under their wing. A couple of the names were familiar to the parson. He expressed his admiration.

About that time the server brought the drinks and then took their orders. Each of them ordered something that included the salad bar. There, as they were making the selection, a discussion of her family began. It continued back to the booth and until the time the server returned to deliver their entree. Elizabeth then talked about Ms. Parson and how she wished she'd learned the art of stained glass from her.

“Thanks for sending me one of her works, Parson. It's hanging in window of my living room. I think about her every day.”

They shared stories of Ms. Parson as they devoured their meal. At the end of it the parson, asked, “So, what are you going to do now that you're almost finished with your doctorate?”

Elizabeth smiled. “You ready for this?”

“Ready for what?”

“I'm heading to seminary.”

“What?”

“Don't get excited, Parson. I'm not becoming a pastor. That's a job for people like you who can put up with my mother. I'm going to seminary in order to better use my doctorate.”

“How are you going to use your doctorate?”

“I'm going to relate the discoveries of recent decades to what you guys are preaching now. I'm going to challenge you to get serious, to stop treating myths that reveal truth as what they are and not the dictated word of God. I'm going to be a catalyst for the church to get serious about ministry in the 21^st century. I'm going to ask you questions you have no answer to and will cause you to rethink your faith. Maybe I have a calling, Parson. Maybe my calling is to make the church professionals uncomfortable.”

There was a moment's silence. The Elizabeth smiled her winning smile and asked, So, what do you think?”

The parson raised his second mug of Sam Adams and said, “I'll drink to that, Elizabeth. I'll drink to that.”