Behold, how they love one another

Justin Lee, founder and head of the Gay Christian Network (GCN) has just published a new book, TORN which addresses the unsuccessful (to date) conversation between the Church and GLBTQ people and the effect of that conversation on the gospel's impact in the world. I haven't read Justin's book yet, but I have heard him speak and have witnessed his courage and diplomacy in tackling the divide between the Church and GLBTQ people in other venues.

As part of the book's release, he has asked bloggers from whatever side of any fence (including those straddling said fence) to dedicate a post to the effort to bring the conversation to some level of sanity. His appeal and links to other bloggers' contributions are found here. This is my contribution.

It would be tempting here to rehearse demands for recognition and tolerance. But a demand is not a dialog. And demands would assume the ability of one party to represent a whole. Any true dialog must begin at a place where we can find common ground.

GLBTQ people in general and Christians in general already share a lot of common ground. First, and this should be obvious, we share a common humanity. We share a range of characteristics and experiences to which neither group can claim any more right of ownership than the other. Second, we claim a common environment - the world in which we live and its resources. Sharing the same world, we are neighbors in it. Third, we share the fact of the communities in which we live, even though we may live in multiple, different, overlapping and sometimes conflicting communities. Despite that, we share the fact of communal inclination. Being communal is a part of being human. But living in a communities is a different dimension than either specific humanity or non-personal environment. Both GLBTQ people and Christians live their lives in the context of communities.

Those basic areas will suffice for now to describe what Christians in general and GLBTQ people hold in common. I don't think that should engender any argument.

Christians who are GLBTQ have even more in common with other Christians than GLBTQ people in general do.

With respect to the previous list, GLBTQ Christians and other Christians share the notion that our humanity is in the image of God and that our person, our "self", is a gift from God. 'Gift' is a strange word. We use it often to mean a special favor, like a birthday gift: something obtained and gifted with our uniqueness in mind. We also think of a "gift" as a grace broadcast over all peoples. It is both and neither. What is significant is that GLBTQ Christians share, with other Christians, the idea that what makes for the human in general and the "I" in particular has been designed by God for reasons that are both loving and unknown. That view inspires a wonder and a worship of our Maker and Lover for the gift of our Selves.

Behind the "God made me the way I am" rhetoric is a real truth that it does us no good and brings God no glory to consider ourselves defective. Even original sin, while crippling, is not the result of a defect. It is the result of a free will, which is no defect. GLBTQ and other Christians can share that conviction. Our dialog can begin in the agreement that what God made is good, and that "it is he who has made us and not we ourselves", as the Hundredth Psalm puts it. That, at least, should be a starting point.

Christians who are GLBTQ and other Christians also share a view of their environment and resources that they, too, are ordered by God, magnifying that wonder and worship for a God who makes himself known in this world. It is not just a religious motivation that is important here - that is merely an aspect of humanity. What is important is the personal and universal witness of God's attention to and provision for our needs in giving us the gift of Life. Even for the sparrows.

And orphans.

And outcasts.

And strangers.

And who is my neighbor, anyway?

While GLBTQ people are not sparrows or orphans or otherwise incapacitated, they are strangers to the Church, at least for now. GLBTQ Christians are often strangers in their own churches. I don't think it would be hard to find agreement among any group of Christians that strangers should be made welcome and that the alien should find hospitality among God's people. Our dialog can continue in recognizing that celebrating God as the giver of Life means a respect for all life in this world and sharing our piece of the world and our resources with all. What has God provided us that we are prone to withhold from others?

Finally, GLBTQ Christians also share with other Christians in the communion of the Church. As the Nicene Creed asserts, there is one holy, catholic and apostolic church. It includes all who dare hope in Christ. Period. That statement does not draw out any controversy until we take it upon ourselves to attempt to identify who  "all" might mean. That is to say, until we take on a job we have not been asked or possess qualifications to perform.

Our communion is in the Body and Blood of Christ, not just in the physical act of "take and eat", but in the existential reality of being members of one Body and being the benefactors of a transcendent blood-sacrifice. There are mysteries which can neither be argued or explained. The dialog we pursue must validate "one holy, catholic and apostolic church. It must be a witness to "one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of us all". A dialog that begins in what we hold in common must lead to a unity and a love which bears witness to the world of our Lord. That is what is at stake.

The sanity, to return to Justin's plea, can only come when we celebrate our differences in unity. We the Church have learned to do this in other areas. It was hard. It took time. But few would return to the days of forced conversions, inquisitions, witch-scares, scarlet letters, segregation or the dismissal of women. Let it be said of the church, without condition, without discrimination, and by all who desire to come, "behold, how they love one another."

Made Able to Stand

I have read Romans 14 many times. Its admonition not to cause any brother to stumble was a cornerstone in the communal church in which I was raised. But cornerstones themselves are made for stumbling, as it implies elsewhere. In my growing-up church, this passage was an oft-repeated warning against doing anything to give offense. It upheld the status quo on any matter, because any deviation from the status quo would surely offend some weaker brother.

But as this passage was read in the Epistle lesson at my current church recently, I noticed the fourth verse of the chapter which must have been added after I was long gone from my old church: "Who are you to judge the servant of another? To his own master he stands or falls; and he will stand, for the Lord is able to make him stand."

The Lord is able to make him stand.

Far from its use to monger fear among the saints and to maintain conformity in all things, and beyond the instruction to mind one's own business when it comes to judging each others' spiritual lives is the assurance that, as regards that weaker brother, the Lord is able to make him stand.

Who is the weaker brother? In the church in which I grew up, the weaker brother was one who, given a liberty, would surely take it. But in Romans, the weaker brother is one who, given a liberty (eating meat) would surely be afraid to take it. I was raised believing the weaker brother would fall in to sin by not observing boundaries and conforming to rules. We all had to follow the rules so as not to cause him to stumble. No one ever suggested the weaker brother was the one who wouldn't let go of the rules.

Paul says the weaker brother falls into legalism by not being able to see past the rules: by setting boundaries for himself in fear. (That fear is a litter-mate of the fear that hounded the servant in Jesus' parable: the servant who buried the treasure the Master had given into his stewardship.) We are not constrained to the boundaries a brother sets for himself out of his timidity. Love certainly leads us not to flaunt our liberties in his face. Respect for our common master leads us to respect the weaker brother and not to judge him. But we do not need to bow to his anxiety. The Lord is able to make him stand. In time, he will stand and cross his own boundaries to discover now-unimaginable freedoms.

In the mean time, we have our own fears to face. We have our own fear-born boundaries to cross. And we have the same hope that He will make us stand, too, and lead us into freedoms we can not now ourselves imagine.

Heirs, not Stewards

When I was presented with the opportunity to share in a stewardship temple talk at my church recently, I was drawn to the theme of this one: “Owner, not Renters”. Recent events in my life have caused a change in my circumstances and in my relationship to property such that I am no longer a Property Owner, but a Renter once again and adjusting to that old relationship.

But as I waded into the given passage from the first part of Ephesians and considered what it had to say to me about stewardship, other notions came to mind.

A steward is the chief servant of an estate. As such, he is neither Renter nor Owner.  He represents an owner, who has vested authority in him to manage or govern in his name.  A good steward works in the best interests of his master. 

And this is where stewardship intersects with Paul’s preface in his letter to the Ephesians.  Paul tells us in this passage what God has done for us.  According to Paul, He has chosen us, He has predestined us to adoption as sons and daughters, He has bestowed grace on us through Jesus who has secured our forgiveness and redemption.  God has revealed His intimate purposes to us, has declared us heirs and has confirmed us as His own possessions by His Holy Spirit.

God, then, has elevated us not from Renters to Property Owners, but rather from stewards to heirs.  We are no longer mere caretakers of an asset that will pass through a lineage of which we have no part.  He has brought us into the family and has made us a part of the line itself. We have been graduated from servants to family.

It is from that position as joint heirs of the kingdom of God that we invest our resources, our time, our capabilities – our very Selves in its prosperity to the praise and the glory of God. That’s what Paul says.

So how do I feel about being a renter again? I would have to say I feel relieved of some responsibilities that I did not particularly enjoy. But I also feel a certain loss of status in a society that grants homeowners a bit more respect, credibility and financial advantage.

Then I remember who I am. I am a beloved, adopted child of God. Paul reminds me that when I exercise my stewardship in God’s kingdom, I am taking good care of the heritage God has given me, as well as the inheritance He will one day confer.

Chosen

Our Adult Christian Education class is viewing a series on the Old Testament from a professor at Vanderbilt University. Today's lesson covered the stories of Cain & Abel and Noah. The professor made the point that aspects of these stories (as well as the Creation story) are to be found in other Middle Eastern and Greek mythologies. The purveyors of the OT stories must have had many more details at their disposal for the stories to be part of their meaningful legend.

The class facilitator, herself a teacher of theology, emphasized the importance of understanding that the OT stories did not stand alone. They were a variation on a whole cloth narrative (cf Hmong story quilts) common to  the peoples of the Middle East. She quoted a favorite writer (whose name I did not get) that there is only one story in mankind - the story of our identity. The OT variations are entwined in and informed by their early Middle Eastern milieu, but still climaxed in the identity story of Israel.

That made me think of the OT pericope for the day from Exodus 33. In it, Moses dickered with God to define the terms of his chosen-ness and the Israelites' chosen-ness. "You have said we have found favor in your sight, but now show us Your way so we can find favor in your sight." That could be read as a pious request to learn just how to obey YHWH. Or it could be read as an attempt to put himself and the Israelites on even footing with God. "We'll both be each other's favorites - then it will be an equal partnership. We won't owe you any more than you owe us." That sounds cynical, but it is not unlike the bargains we often attempt with God ourselves. Moses' further arguments sound more along the lines of resolving an identity crisis than of swearing fealty and obeisance.

God says in Exodus "My presence will go with you" and Moses replies "If your presence will NOT go, then do not move us from this place... in this way, we will be distinct." Moses goes so far as to negotiate witnessing God's glory itself. God accommodates Him. "You can see my back, but not my face." God even described himself in bodily terms, as though He was in the image of man, and not the other way around.

Finally, Moses was confident that he was the chosen leader of a chosen people. But the operation looks more like a messy birthing than a ceremonial anointing. Tearing a chosen people for the One God out of the fabric of Middle Eastern polytheism and mythologies was an arduous process. That is the story of the OT.

The New Testament reverses that story, resulting in an almost equally messy patchwork called the Church. With the Church there is no more chosen leader or chosen race. The narrative tradition and cult practices of the longstanding chosen people must be liberalized to accommodate other stories. The peoples of the Middle East (Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria...) are linked together again, along with uttermost parts of the earth in a new story known as the Gospel. In the Gospel there is no Jew, Greek, male, female, slave nor freeman. The Gospel is the final story of the identity of a people of God comprised of those in the image of God learning to bear witness to the glory of God for all time.

The Question

Synchronicity is the apparent alignment of meaningful events in one's life: a serendipitous juxtaposition. I experience this most Sundays as I read the selection of biblical texts that comprise the service of worship. The Old Testament reading, the Psalms, the New Testament reading and the +Gospel+.

Last week's OT reading was the 10 commandments. The Psalm was a song of restoration. The NT reading was Paul's declaration that, though he could boast his credentials as the Ideal Jew, he boasted, instead, in righteousness through faith in Christ, wanting to know Him and the power of His resurrection.

The +Gospel+ from Matthew was the account of Jesus telling religious leaders the story of the landowner to who sent a series of servants, and finally his son to collect what was due him from his tenants. The tenants abused and killed the messengers and son. Jesus asked the leaders "Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?". The leaders' response was that he would put them to a wretched death and lease the vineyard to more cooperative, deserving tenants.

Jesus replies to them with an enigmatic reference to the stone the builders rejected becoming the chief cornerstone, revealing an amazing work of God. Then he tells them that the kingdom of God will be taken away from the leaders and given to others, followed by another strange statement that those who fall on the stone will be broken to pieces and those on whom the stone falls will be crushed.

Typical Jesus.

Always nailing people with a good pointed story. Always going in a different direction than you expect. Always throwing in an inexplicable reference to some obtuse passage.

The landowner story seems clear enough. God is the landlord who planted the vineyard and owns everything. He sends prophets and finally his son to collect what is due. The Jews, the original lessees, kill them all and are undeserving, so God turns them away and gives the kingdom to the Gentiles. Yea, our side wins. More evidence against "Christ-killers" and from Matthew, no less. The +Gospel+, like history, is always written by the "winners".

Jesus was the "stone the builders rejected", and if you stumble over that fact, he will come falling on you like an avalanche and bury your sorry self. So you better not pout, you better not cry.

Typical Jesus.

Or, typical way we read Jesus. Typical way we analyze the stories for allegories, assign roles to people or people groups we know or don't like, affirm ourselves as God's BFFs and embrace the good news for us. It always sucks not to be us.

I have always been bothered by the reference to the cornerstone in Jesus' reply. Not that I don't recognize Jesus himself as the cornerstone of my righteousness. Yes. Absolutely. But that reference after this particular story is a non sequitor. The story images are of vineyards, grapes and business. The cornerstone image is of architecture and environmental hazards. How does that relate to the story if the point of the story is about who wins and who loses in the race to be God's best friends.

Last Sunday, reading this story after the stark enumeration of the commandments, the psalmist's cry to God for preservation and restoration and Paul's repudiation of the law as the way to righteousness, my attention moved from the story to Jesus' question.

"What will the owner of the vineyard do to the tenants?"

The leaders gave Jesus the same answer that we - a primarily Gentile church - give Him today.

"Why, of course, they will receive their just desserts!!"

It is always good to know the right answer. Except for when you don't.

Jesus distracted us with a story when his question was aimed at our hearts. Typical Jesus.

Soaking in the OT, NT and Psalms before coming to this +Gospel+ passage, I became aware that Jesus didn't have to ask those leaders what would happen next in his story unless he wanted to. Or, unless he wanted reveal what was in their hearts. What was in their hearts was allegiance to the Law - the notion that righteousness means obeying the Law and justice means well-deserved consequences when you don't. That is what is in our hearts when we finish Jesus' story with the landowner's retribution. That is the cornerstone of our ethics, morality and justice.

The cornerstone of the +Gospel+ is different. It is one we often stumble over. And reject. When we fall on it it breaks us. It crushes our self-righteousness.

The +Gospel+ is the story where the landowner sends his son, knowing full well what will happen to him. The +Gospel+ is the story where the landowner watches His Son die at the hands of cruel men. The +Gospel+ is the story where the son, in death's agony, appeals to his father for mercy for his unknowing tormentors. The +Gospel+ is the story that ends with the landowner raising his son from the dead to show the hateful, greedy, undeserving, self-righteous tenants how powerful his forgiveness can be.

The +Gospel+ is the story where a servant is forgiven a huge debt in its entirety. We stumble over the +Gospel+ every time when we, like that servant, are determined to exact payment for a paltry debt from another servant. The kingdom is taken away from us not because we, the world to whom it was offered, killed the son. The kingdom is taken away from us when we, like the ungrateful servant, insist on an accounting of debt to the Law instead of an accounting of God's mercy.

Jesus did not tell the leaders that the kingdom would be taken from them because they were Jews and that is how the story was supposed to end. The kingdom will be taken away from anyone who is ready to take it away from someone else. It will be given, as Jesus said, to those who produce the fruit of the kingdom: those who exhibit the merciful love, forgiveness, grace that flows into their lives by being engrafted into Christ.

That mercy, like the plot twist to Jesus' story where the landowner raises the son from the dead, is "the stone the builders rejected" that "has become the cornerstone". That grace truly is "the Lord's doing" and "amazing before our eyes".

Jesus tells a story and asks how it ends. He doesn't want to know how well we know the commandments and can judge by them. He wants to know how well we know God.

Typical Jesus.