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Can anyone help me understand William Abraham?

Can anyone help me understand William Abraham?

Years ago, maybe 1998 or 99, I heard William Abraham defend the United Methodist Discipline's position on homosexuality in a lecture given at a theological institute sponsored by the Baltimore-Washington Conference. I didn't understand what he was trying to say when I heard him say it years ago, so I was pleased to discover that his lecture has been published. This would give me a chance to read and study what he has to say. Unfortunately after reading and rereading his lecture, I still don't get it.

Yet, I have to give Abraham credit for this: During a time when many seminary faculty members simply refused to share their opinions and insights on the church debate about sexual orientation, Abraham was out there lecturing on this topic all over the place. In contrast, an amazing number of faculty at United Methodist seminaries, who presumably are being paid --at least in part-- to be resources to the church, just refused to speak about the topic or even to answer questions about how their academic disciplines might inform the discussion. Apparently, no matter what their viewpoint, they were nervous about their careers and, thus, chose to abdicate what some might consider to be their professional and Christian responsibility to help educate the church.

You've got to say this about Abraham: He's not a coward. But that doesn't mean he makes sense. Abraham's lecture, published as the first chapter of the book Staying the Course: Supporting the Church's Position on Homosexuality edited by Maxie Dunnam and H. Newton Malony, is more and more of a puzzle to me the harder I try to understand it.

Abraham says he wants to move the discussion beyond a debate about verses of Scripture. "The appeal to Scripture in the debate about homosexual practice," he writes, " has also led to a trivializing of the debate." (p. 23) Good point. Abraham seems to realize that quoting a handful of biblical texts (see my discussion here) to support the Discipline's position is not very convincing, especially since there exist biblical passages of much greater significance that --if taken literally without consideration of the societal context of the times-- disagree with the Discipline's positions on divorce, the ordination of women, and other concerns. Why should we interpret the Bible literally and simplistically about same-gender sexuality if we have not chosen to do so in areas that are more likely to affect the rest of us, such as the possibility of divorced people and women being ordained?

So Abraham does well to try to move the discussion beyond a shallow debate about what the Bible says. It is where he goes from here that is a puzzlement and wonder. He suggests that to get past the problem of our inconsistency in using Scripture, applying it literally in the case of homosexuality but not in many other cases, we should understand the Discipline's position on homosexuality to be an expression of divine revelation rather than biblical interpretation.

If I understand Abraham (and I have already admitted I am not sure I do), calling the Discipline's position on homosexuality an expression of divine revelation rather than a matter of biblical interpretation means 1) we don't have to take the findings of reason (science) and experience (personal knowledge) seriously anymore because it is not just Scripture we are dealing with but divine revelation (p. 24), 2) the rules of discussion and debate change because now we are not just talking about the Bible but about the Word of God addressed to us here and now, which is not debatable (p. 25) and 3) the crucial Scripture texts are no longer the ones that address homosexuality but "the teaching of our Lord on marriage" which reveals to us "the divine intention for marriage as a specific divine calling in which male and female are joined in lifelong commitment." (p. 25) Changing the discussion from a matter of biblical interpretation to a matter of divine revelation apparently means we can pick one or two verse of the Bible (three words actually: "male and female") and use them to trump all the rest of Scripture, not to mention reason, experience and tradition!

What about the Discipline's view on divorce then? Abraham's answer is that we have rightly followed the Eastern Orthodox Church on this. The Roman Catholic Church does not permit divorce on the basis of God's revelation. Protestantism does permit remarriage after divorce on the basis of compassion and grace. Eastern Orthodoxy upholds both revelation and compassion by including a ritual of repentance for divorced people as part of the liturgy for second and third marriages. Even though we don't actually do this, Abraham argues that the Discipline "has gotten the matter essentially if not comprehensively right ..." (p. 27) What about the Discipline's position on the ordination of women, which might seem inconsistent with revelation? Abraham's answer is that the Bible has no blueprint for ministry. He concludes: "Since there is no blueprint on ministry in Scripture, no blueprint on the gender of those ordained can be derived from Scripture." (p. 28)

But apparently in Abraham's mind the Bible does have a blueprint for marriage, and the essence of the blueprint is heterosexuality. Because Jesus specified in his discussion about divorce in Matthew 19: 3-9 and Mark 10: 2-12 that God made us "male and female," Abraham reaches the conclusion that heterosexual marriage is an unchangeable and inflexible norm of divine revelation.

Meanwhile, for Abraham, the point of Jesus' teaching --the unacceptability of remarriage after divorce-- can be tempered by the need for compassion and grace. On the other hand, the words"male and female" cannot be tempered by compassion and grace, or reason and experience.

Abraham offers two other proofs for his argument that divine revelation shows us that heterosexual marriage and practice is the only possibility for romantic relationships. One proof he offers is that it is true because some people strongly believe it is. He says: "On the matter before us, conservatives are both tenacious and urgent. This is not accidental. They are tenacious because the opinion they hold is not just a matter of human judgment or opinion. It is construed as the teaching of our Lord in divine revelation." (p. 29) It is revelation because some people feel strongly that it is.

Abraham's second proof is this: Because the church is the place where "the pure Word of God is preached" and because heterosexuality is the pure Word of God, heterosexual marriage must be the only Christian option. He writes: "If the United Methodist Church were to abandon its current teaching on homosexual behavior, it would cease to be a body where the pure Word of God is preached; and thus it would undermine its own most important ecclesiological insight." (p. 30)

After reading Abraham I feel like the mark who is trying to figure out where the pea is in a shell game. Abraham is quick, yes, but he is also slippery. He manipulates the rules to fit the conclusion he wants to reach.

He leaves me asking a lot of questions: Who gets to define divine revelation? Who gets to decide what is merely a biblical verse instead of divine revelation? Whose strong feelings get to determine what qualifies as divine revelation? If both of us have really strong feelings, whose trumps whose? Who gets to determine what is "the pure Word of God" and what isn't?

The most puzzling aspect of Abraham's essay is that he argues against proof-texting, and then uses a three-word prooftext as the basis of his argument by declaring it --arbitrarily-- to be divine revelation. Can anyone help me understand William Abraham?

Bill McKibben on Jeffrey Sachs' Plan to End World Poverty

Bill McKibben has been one of my favorite thinkers ever since I read his book The Age of Missing Information back in the mid-90s.

To write The Age of Missing Information, McKibben spent 1,700 hours watching cable television from Fairfax, Va., the cable system with the most channels at the time, and then he went camping in the Adirondacks to see if there was anything he might learn from nature that was different from what he'd seen on TV (even on the nature shows). One of the things he noticed is that never once did he see a natural death on TV. While camping he saw again and again that death is part of the cycle of life. He concludes that TV is making us dumber about life's deepest meanings.

In the most recent issue of the Christian Century (May 31, 2005) McKibben has written an analysis (more than a review) of a book that hopes to provide the solution for world poverty. The book is The End of Poverty: Economic Possibilities for Our Time written by Jeffrey D. Sachs. Sachs is a highly credentialed economist. At the request of UN Secretary General Kofi Annan, Sachs led a panel of 250 experts in economic development that Annan had asked to come up with a plan to reduce global poverty. After the panel's report was released, Sachs wrote his own book in which he describes his strategy for eradicating poverty by 2025.

To my surprise, McKibben seems to accept many of Sachs' conclusions, albeit cautiously and with reservation. Sachs argues that we should concentrate on eliminating extreme poverty -- meaning the circumstances that cause more than a billion people in African and South Asia to live on the equivalent of less than a dollar a day. If we could help these folk move from extreme poverty to moderate poverty (an income of between one and two dollars a day), they could get a first foothold onto the ladder of the global economy and the worst would be over, Sachs believes.

Sachs says we could help end extreme poverty through five interventions -- what he calls the "Big Five." They are: 1) agricultural aid, such as more fertilizer and better seed; 2) investments in basic health to prevent malaria and treat AIDS; 3) investments in education, such as school lunches; 4) electricity and roads; and 5) safe drinking water and sanitation.

Here is the shocker: Sachs says that all this could be done at a cost of 31 cents a day per extremely poor person. The total cost to the rich world would be $124 billion, or 0.6 percent of our income. Not 6 percent, McKibben emphasizes, but six-tenth of 1 percent. The United States could pay it share by repealing the Bush tax cuts for people making more than $500,000 a year, McKibben notes.

McKibben believes we should try many of the things Sachs proposes. Certainly Christians should not have any problem with the cost. "I was hungry and you gave me 0.6 percent of your income," McKibben deadpans.

McKibben, as I noted, has some reservations. He believes it may be a mistake to assume that the rest of the world should develop along the same lines the West has. He is nervous that Sachs' emphasis on urbanization may have environmental consequences that will make Sachs' vision unachievable. He suspects that Sachs' plan is too grandiose and not sensitive enough to local circumstances. He criticizes Sachs for using per capita income as his only measurement for development. (He offers the example of the state of Kerala in India where per capita income is no greater than the rest of India but where life expectancy, literacy and fertility compare favorable with parts of the United States. This quality of life was achieved not by industrialization but by land reform.)

Yet, whether we agree with Sachs' macro approach or McKibben's more community-oriented strategies, or some combination of the two (which seems to be what McKibben is really proposing), it is clear that we have the capacity to greatly lessen world poverty at a relatively small cost.

The value of both Sachs' book and McKibben's essay is to show us that reducing world poverty is doable. I wonder if a presidential campaign based on a promise of "ending world poverty in out lifetimes" would attract the faith-based vote, including the Religious Right? Sounds pro-life to me.

Like most of what he writes, McKibben's Christian Century essay is worth reading and brooding about.

Inch by inch - a report from annual conference

It is annual conference season here in the birthplace of American Methodism. We are meeting in a fine hotel in Baltimore, the city where the first Methodist conference in America –ever– was held at Lovely Lane Methodist Church in 1784. The accommodations back then were, I’m sure, less luxurious.

My congregation presented a resolution to annual conference this year. (For the text of our resolution, see p. 41-2 of the pdf here.) A group of our members started working on the resolution last summer after General Conference had ended. People from other churches joined in the work. Folk put countless hours into preparing and refining the resolution, garnering support for it, and planning for its presentation.

Our resolution passed, so I suppose I should be happy. Because someone called for a vote count, we even know that it passed by a vote of 587 to 327 (about 63 percent of those voting). Yet I find myself somewhat depleted.

I know we should be celebrating. A lot happened here today that should encourage those of us who dream of an inclusive church. A group of bright, accomplished men and women, who had plenty of other things they could have done with their time, cared enough about the United Methodist Church to prepare a resolution for annual conference. They wrote clear interpretative materials and handed out leaflets to conference delegates. They prepared themselves to speak on the floor of conference and then spoke articulately and movingly. Some made themselves vulnerable far beyond the call of reasonable expectation.

Our folk, and all those who supported this resolution, should feel a deep sense of satisfaction and achievement. I do not mean to diminish what happened today in any way. Our folk did exceptional work. This was a great advance in the movement toward reconciliation. The angels are cheering.

But, still, when the well-deserved hoorays and yippees are over, I am left with a touch of pain in my heart. One reason for this is that 327 delegates voted against our resolution even though we made it as mild, moderate, open and non-confrontational as we could imagine. Our resolution was practically innocuous. It simply called for dialogue within our conference about issues concerning people with lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender orientations. This is something so mainstream that even the 2004 General Conference encouraged us to do it. General Conference passed the report of the Task Force on Homosexuality and the Unity of the Church which concluded: “Be it further resolved that the 2004 General Conference encourages further dialogue throughout The United Methodist Church designed with worship at the center to lead to greater understanding, love, and care for each other, and with the hope that our struggles with these concerns will take a more civil character to the benefit of all.”

Yet 327 delegates to our annual conference voted against “greater understanding, love and care for each other.” Admittedly, we added a tad more specificity than the General Conference resolution had included, but nothing radical: Each district of our conference would hold dialogues; the first ones would be held in 2005; local churches would be provided with resources to enable dialogues; and LGBT people would be included in the dialogues so that United Methodists are talking with each other rather than about each other. It was a tame, reasonable resolution.

So how can it be that 327 delegates to our annual conference, almost 40 percent, voted against dialogue with other United Methodist Christians? After listening to the discussion and seeing the vote, I have concluded that more than 300 members of our conference would have voted against any resolution whatsoever with the words “lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender” in it. If our resolution had said: “Be it resolved that we smile at people with lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender orientations,” 300 delegates would have voted against it. In some ways it feels worse than 25 years ago. The hostility and coldness on the part of these 300 delegates seems harder and meaner than it used to be. Or maybe I was just expecting people to have become more understanding and accepting by now.  I suspect, however, some people have just become more autocratically doctrinaire, less thoughtful and reasonable, determined to “hold the line.”

The other reason I am discouraged is because so many of the speeches against our resolution were insulting and mean. There were a lot of references to “the homosexual lifestyle.” What’s that? Oh, I know –we all know– what references to “the homosexual lifestyle” are meant to imply: that gay people are promiscuous and intemperate, sex machines. This is a stereotype. This is a straight people's fantasy.

Delegates speaking against our resolution seemed to have no difficulty painting all LGBT people with the same brush. They mouthed stereotypes as their justification for why they did not need to be in dialogue with real people, making it obvious why dialogue with real people is so important. But they themselves could not see this. It is hard not to think that the reason they were resisting dialogue and conversation is because they have made up their minds and want to make sure reality doesn’t intrude.

Even more distressing and hurtful were those delegates who bluntly called LGBT people sick or immoral. Several speeches against our resolution went something like this: If we are going to have dialogue with gays, then why don’t we have dialogue with pathological liars, addicts, alcoholics, murderers, and adulterers? Now, personally I would not be opposed to having dialogue with any of these folk. In fact, I am pretty sure some of the above were in the room today. But to thoughtlessly group sister and brother United Methodists who are prayerfully seeking to discern what it means to be followers of Jesus in their LGBT bodies with pathological liars and murderers is crude, mean, and mindless. It is –to use an old term– pharisaical. Save us.

One pastor who spoke against our resolution was poignant. Her son is, as she put it, “a homosexual.” She said she loves her son, but she is afraid he will go to hell unless he repents of his sexual orientation. “I love my son, but can't tell him I agree with his lifestyle," she said. "If I am wrong, I've lost nothing. If he's wrong, he's lost everything."

I fear she has misread Scripture. If Matthew 25:31-46 is right, we will be judged precisely by the way we have treated others and by whether we have been compassionate. To cruelly tell someone that he or she is going to hell for loving authentically just because she or he is different from straight folk may well be spiritually risky. Her assumption that she can say anything she wants about gay people, including her own son, and justify it by interpreting the Bible anyway she wants, no matter how facile, and it would not matter, seems to me biblically questionable.

Well, I need to remember that this is a long struggle, and we took a step forward today. I also need to remember that when you lance an old festering wound, what comes out is not always pleasant. So let me not get bogged down in the negatives. We did well today and the church has moved at least a tiny step closer to the love of Christ.

Methodists and Segregation -- two new books

Two new books about exactly the same topic fell into my hands without any effort on my part, so I thought I ought to pay attention. One of the books was given to me by its author who is a member of my congregation. The other was given to me because it was nominated for an award and a member of the organization making the award thought it would interest me.

Both books are about the the long and difficult battle to do away with the Central Jurisdiction in order to integrate the Methodist Church, at least at the regional and national levels. The Central Jurisdiction had been established in 1939 when northern and southern Methodism --split in 1844 over slavery-- were reunited. It was an organizational and structural device designed to keep the Methodist Church segregated, so that no white pastor would be under the authority of an African-American bishop and so that no white church would be assigned an African-American pastor. Once established, the Central Jurisdiction was almost impossible to do away with, even when the larger society was rapidly moving beyond Jim Crow.

Each book is, in its own way, a fascinating read. Peter C. Murray, author of Methodists and the Crucible of Race 1930-1975, is a professor at Methodist College in Fayetteville, NC. He writes as an objective historian, although his commitment to an integrated society and church is obvious. His interest in this topic comes, at least in part, from growing up in a Methodist parsonage in a town where the Methodist churches were segregated.

"Two blocks from my father's church was another Methodist church," he writes. "It belonged to the same denomination, but it was in a different annual conference and had a different bishop. ... In spite of being in the same denomination, the two churches had no direct contact with one other. It was as though they were worshipping different gods." (p. ix)

W. Astor "Bill" Kirk, author of Desegregation of the Methodist Church Polity: Reform Movements That Ended Racial Segregation, writes as an activist and passionate participant in the struggle to end segregation within his beloved denomination. Bill served as secretary and then chair of the Central Jurisdiction's Committee of Five, the group that finally persuaded the denomination to reform its segregationist structure. His book is particularly powerful when he gives us a glimpse of the fierce resistance to integration within the denomination and the feelings of African-Americans like himself who experienced the sting of the church's rejection. One of the interesting byproducts of reading Bill Kirk's book is observing whom he and other African-Americans trusted, even when they disagreed, and how others totally lost the trust of African-American leaders.

The books complement each other and are best read one after another. Both of these books introduce us to a generation of largely unsung Methodist heroes --African-American and white-- who devoted themselves to the vision of an integrated church and who paid a price for their commitment and leadership.

Of course, soberingly, the books also introduce us to a generation of Methodists who fought as hard as they could, sometime manipulatively, to keep Methodism segregated. These books make me wonder what historians will say about us 30 and 50 years from now.

A few lessons we might learn:

1. Change takes a long time within our denomination, and it takes persistence and diligence to make it happen. I wonder if many of us today are as loyal and committed to our denominational tradition as Bill Kirk and his contemporaries were? I wonder if we love our church as much? I wonder if we are as willing to pray, to organize, to negotiate, to present resolutions that get defeated, then wait four years to present other resolutions, and to argue cases before the Judicial Council? The process of desegregating the Methodist Church took 30 years, and would have taken longer had not Evangelical United Brethren Church leaders made ending the Central Jurisdiction a condition of the Methodist-EUB merger. African-American Methodists must have loved the Methodist Church profoundly to sacrifice this greatly and to suffer such rebuke in order to help heal us from the awful disease of racism.

2. We are not necessarily always a prophetic church. On the issue of integration, our denomination lagged pretty far behind the larger society. The primary reason for this was a commitment on the part of General Conference to voluntarism. The Methodist Church did not want to force anybody to integrate who did not want to. (Bill Kirk's oft stated observation was that segregation into the Central Jurisdiction was not voluntary, so the principle of voluntarism obviously cut just one way.) Peter Murray argues, interestingly enough, that southern Methodists, albeit slower to change than the north, were in some cases more prophetic and courageous than the northerners, even though southern successes were less recognized and celebrated. (p. 234) Murray also wonders whether the Methodism's sluggishness cost us the baby boomers. This generation (my generation) began leaving the denomination during the 1960s, he says. Previously Methodist student and youth groups were thriving. He wonders whether the church's slowness to integrate may have been one of the reasons baby boomers lost interest in the denomination in the 60s. (p. 238)

3. It seems to me from reading these books that the Methodist bishops took a more active leadership role in moving the church toward integration than they seem to take on any issue today. They did not just teach or opine, they made executive decisions. For example, at a critical point of the negotiations to end the Central Jurisdiction, they took the initiative to develop a plan for transition, including developing a formula to facilitate the merger of Central Jurisdiction conferences into the Southwest Jurisdiction. (Murray, p. 174-5) At one point the bishops called for a delay in Judicial Council deliberations. (Kirk, p. 158) These kinds of actions seem much more assertive than the bishops' actions lately. And it was interesting to read about the role of the Judicial Council in this process. For those who wonder about the role the Judicial Council plays these days, it will interesting for you to read Bill Kirk's description of his efforts to plead for movement toward integration before the council in 1965. (See Chapter 10)

4. It is easy to forget that issues are personal, not just a matter of politics or theological interpretation. In Pittsburgh in 1939 when General Conference approved the merger between the northern and southern churches, segregating African-American Methodists into the Central Jurisdiction as a compromise in order to achieve reunification, the delegates rose and cheerfully sang "We're Marching to Zion." Apparently they did not notice or else did not care that African-American delegates remain seated in their chairs, many of them weeping openly. (Murray, p. 41) And, then, there is a profound moment in Bill Kirk's account during which he describes the anger he felt when a denominational committee rudely challenged efforts to move the cause forward. "It has been forty years since I received that note ..." he writes. "But I still have vivid recollections of my emotional reaction ... Suddenly I became angry -- very, very angry!" (p. 115) We discuss issues regarding the humanity of God's children --brothers and sisters-- as though it were an impersonal discussion, but real flesh-and-blood human beings are wounded by our thoughts and actions.

Peter Murray has written an excellent history. His book is the best way to get an overview of this troubled era of Methodist history. Bill Kirk profoundly enriches the history by sharing his personal experience of being a pioneer for justice in the church, and giving us a first-hand look at the day-by-day strategy of the change agents. I consider it an act of providence that both books fell into my lap at the same time. They are well worth our study and deliberation. After all, as the old saw goes, those of us who forget history are doomed to repeat it.

Class of 2005, What Does the Lord Require of You? --a baccalaureate sermon

Albright College, Reading, Pennsylvania

Sunday, May 22, 2005

Scripture: Micah 6: 6-8; Matthew 5: 38-48

It was 40 years ago this coming August that my father drove me here to this campus from our home in Schnecksville, Pennsylvania. He helped me carry my suitcases up to the second floor of Albright Court, gave me a $20 bill (which was more money then than it is now), and drove home without me.

It was a momentous day for me. When I came here in 1965 I had a Pennsylvania Dutch accent so thick people sometimes had to ask me to repeat myself in order to understand what I was saying.

My dutchified English was the butt of more than a few jokes. "Outen the light," I would say, or "Plug out the radio," and my friends from Philadelphia would look at me strangely. "The potatoes are all," I would say in the dining hall, and --after a pause-- someone would ask, "The potatoes are all what?" And let me advise you not to try to tell a female classmate that she is looking particularly pretty by saying to her, "You look good in the face today."

Here at Albright, I was plunged into a world of new ideas, new experiences and new possibilities. I pray your time here at Albright has been even half as exciting and stretching and challenging as mine was 40 years ago.

It was here at Albright that I became a man. I remember the exact instant it happened. The spring semester of my sophomore year I began to get restless. I felt unfulfilled by the rut I'd fallen into of studying hard all week and partying hard on weekends. I went to the chaplain's office and asked if there was somewhere in the community I might volunteer where I could make some kind of difference in the real world. The chaplain's secretary arranged for me to volunteer Thursday mornings when I had no classes at a Head Start program in an old Baptist church in the section of Reading considered in those days to be the disadvantaged inner-city.

From the first day I walked into that Head Start classroom, a five-year-old boy named Tye attached himself to me. He was hungry for attention. He became my Thursday morning shadow. He followed me everywhere. He insisted I play with him and pay attention to him.

Mid-semester I missed a couple of Thursday mornings at the Head Start program because of spring break. The Thursday morning after spring break when I walked into the Baptist Church, Tye stood up and pointed and shouted at the top of his lungs, "The man's here! The man's here!" I looked around to see who he was talking about. There was no one else there.

Suddenly I realized Tye was pointing at me. Tye thought I was a man. I was shocked. I still thought of myself as a boy. Tye helped me realize it was time for me to begin putting away childish things and to begin to act like the adult he thought I was. In many ways, it was the moment I grew up.

I am honored that the Albright trustees and administration have invited me back to share in this baccalaureate service, especially this baccalaureate service for the Class of 2005, graduating from Albright these 40 years after I became a student here. I have one warning for you. Forty years go by like a snap of your fingers. So pay attention. Don't miss a moment of your own life. Forty years go by like a snap.

Be sure to learn everything you can as soon as you can from your grandparents, your parents, your aunts and uncles. Ask them everything you can think to ask and listen closely to their answers. They will not be here forever.

Savor your joys. Feel your disappointments and sadnesses as deeply as you can because they are part of life, too, and in their own way are blessings. Don't be afraid to live. Let nothing or no one steal your joy. Forty years go by like a snap.

So, Class of 2005, here is the question of the morning: What does the Lord require of you? Distinguished and Beloved Albright College Class of 2005, what does the Lord require of you?

(Continued here.)

Ministry and Suffering -- a sermon preached at a License to Preach School

Since we have asked you to share sermons on selected texts this week as a way of helping each other with our preaching, and since this has required that you become vulnerable to one another and to me, I thought it would be only fair that I take the risk of sharing a sermon with you on the same texts we assigned to you.

We have been basing our sermons on the lectionary readings for the seventh Sunday of Pentecost or Ascension Sunday: Acts 1: 6-14; I Peter 4: 12-14; 5:6-11; and John 17:1-11.

Let's listen again to the lesson from the First Epistle of Peter:

1Pe 4:12 Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. 13 But rejoice insofar as you are sharing Christ's sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed. 14 If you are reviled for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the spirit of glory, which is the Spirit of God, is resting on you. 1Pe 5:6 Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time. 7 Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you. 8 Discipline yourselves, keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. 9 Resist him, steadfast in your faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters in all the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering. 10 And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish you. 11 To him be the power forever and ever. Amen. (NRSV)

Peter (or a successor) wrote these words to the Christians of Asia Minor during the time of the Dispersion (I Pe 1:1): "Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you." (I Pe 4:12) And, of course, the reason he had to write this is because they were surprised at the fiery ordeal they were experiencing, and they did think it strange. Otherwise Peter wouldn't have had to write them to tell them not to be surprised, not to think it strange.

They were surprised by the fiery ordeal, as we all --I think-- are surprised by it when it comes to us. They did think something strange was happening to them as we all think it strange when trouble and suffering happen to us. This is not the deal we cut with God. The deal we thought we cut was that we would serve God and that God would bless us. Fiery ordeals were not the blessings we had in mind.

This is no less true for those of us who are in ministry than for anybody -- maybe more so for us. We have sacrificed even more than most. What have we done to deserve fiery ordeals?

But, beloved, ministry always includes trouble and suffering.

I love ministry -- not everyday but many days, overall. The joys and satisfactions of ministry are abundant. I would do it all again! Nonetheless, it is also true that ministry always includes trouble and suffering, and even a fiery ordeal or two or three. And when they come I am always surprised. Always. And it always feels as though something strange is happening to me. Always.

No matter how often I experience it, I am always surprised. It always feels strange.

Some bishops are now saying that seven years will be the minimum expected length of a ministerial appointment. They are saying that it will have to be a very unusual circumstance for a change to happen before the pastor and church have lived with each other for at least seven years. They say the second and third years, or the third and fourth years, sooner or later, are going to be tough years almost always. But, they say, if we can get through the tough years, the fourth or fifth years and beyond are likely to be productive years of ministry.

Some bishops are saying that if clergy and congregations are not willing to stick it out through the tough years, we will never get to the productive years of ministry. It is normal and perhaps necessary that the cycle of an appointment include times of trouble and suffering.

There are, I suppose, lots of reasons we experience trouble and suffering in ministry. For one thing, there is a lot of pain in our pews. If we have more than 50 people in our pews, there are almost surely going to be unrecovering alcoholics, untreated survivors of childhood abuse, untreated sufferers of bi-polar or borderline illnesses or depression, couples living in loveless marriages without any help, closeted gay men and lesbians, individuals filled with a sense of powerlessness and rage, and more.

And this is not even to mention the "ordinary" pains of living. A friend who is a hospital chaplain tells me that the dominant experience of the second half of life is loss -- loss of loved ones, loss of strength, loss of work, loss of health, loss of status, loss of power, loss of security, and finally the loss of life itself. We do almost nothing, he says, to prepare ourselves for this painful experience -- this fiery ordeal. We do almost nothing to help each other through it.

Our faith can offer us hope and healing for all this pain, but our religious practices are also part of our pain management system. Marx was not all wrong; we do use religion as an opiate. (William Sloane Coffin was once asked if religion isn't a crutch. He answered: "Yes, but who isn't limping?" Religion is an opiate, but who isn't in intolerable pain?)

When we get to our appointments with all the insights and tools we have learned at License to Preach School, if we do the ministry God has called us to do, we will sooner or later interfere with folks' pain management systems. Human beings do one of two things with unhealed pain: we either get healed or we try to find a way for others to carry the pain and feel it for us. Hello, pastor! There is a lot of pain in our pews, and if we are ministering in the name and spirit of Christ, some of that pain will make its way into our hearts and mind.

For me, no matter how often it happens, it is still a surprise. I am surprised. It does feel as though something strange is happening to me.

Another reason we will inevitably sooner or later experience trouble and suffering in ministry is because ministry is mostly about ministering in the face of resistance, and most of us are not prepared for this. Other than Rabbi Edwin Friedman, the writer who has helped me most to try to figure out how to do ministry in the real world is James Dittes, a professor of psychology of religion at Yale Divinity School who wrote books with titles like When the People Say No, Minister on the Spot, and Church in the Way.

The thesis of Church in the Way is that it often feels to us as though our congregations get in the way of our ability to do ministry. He uses the psychotherapeutic concept of resistance to help us understand that our people's resistance is the very place ministry happens rather than the place where our ministries are blocked.

Dittes writes about the obstacles that persistently confront us and seem to block our ministries: "Such obstacles are not merely evidence of a general 'sinfulness,' requiring a blanket denunciation and a general summons to renewed fidelity to the church and its gospel. They are not merely instrumental problems, requiring instrumental and administrative solutions -- rearranging situations, recruiting, organizing, training people more effectively. They are not deliberate attacks or frustrations for the sake of attack and frustration, requiring angry counterattack. Rather, they are occasions of specific response by particular persons to particular presentations of the church's message, mission and ministry. They are meaningful events, disclosing to those with eyes to see how that portion of message, mission and ministry is having impact on these particular persons, and inviting further ministry." (p. 17)

Ministry is all about leading congregations to the place of their resistance, and then ministering through the resistance to the next place of spiritual growth to the next place of resistance. This is a work full of trouble, suffering and fiery ordeals.

I've read Dittes and I know this intellectually, but I am still always surprised. I still always feel as though something strange is happening to me. So I really have very little that I can say about how to understand all this, but I Peter says three things that I find helpful.

First, Peter says that when we suffer we are sharing Christ's suffering: "Rejoice insofar as you are sharing Christ's suffering." (I Pe 4:13) We need to be careful here. Rita Nakashima and Rebecca Ann Parker have made a telling and powerful argument in their book Proverbs of Ashes: Violence, Redemptive Suffering and the Search for What Saves Us that Christian teachings about suffering have often been used to oppress suffering people, especially women. (Read a Christian Century review of the book, as well as other books that raise concerns about traditional understandings of the meaning of the cross and suffering, here.) Since reading their book I have been pondering and worrying about the way our glorification of suffering has sometimes kept people in oppressive and violent situations because they thought it was their "cross to bear."

Yet, I think it is safe to say that the trouble, suffering and fiery ordeals of ministry can, if we are faithful, be a sharing in the suffering of Christ. If we remain determined to move through the pain and resistance to the place of growth and new life, rather than to stay stuck in the trouble and suffering, and if we take care of ourselves -- drink eight glasses of water a day, exercise, get enough sleep, take our days off, avoid excessive consumption of alcohol, practice our spiritual disciplines, stay healthy -- then the fiery ordeals of ministry can be an expression of the suffering of Christ that will lead to healing and resurrection. Remaining vulnerable in the presence of pain is the way God in Jesus Christ does God's work, and it is the way we must do our work of ministry if we are followers of Christ.

In Minister on the Spot, Jim Dittes talks about the temptation to try to avoid the painful aspects of ministry and how the consequence can be that we miss ministry altogether while dreaming of some more fulfilling appointment. He writes: "The trivialities, the banalities, the meaninglessnesses, the groping inarticulateness, the complacencies, the blind and mechanical conventionalities, the lamp to be tended, the money to be counted and invested, the inconveniently fallen stranger ... . Surely each of these trivial occasions and encounters of the present -- those phone calls and committee meetings, that insufferable Council of Churches' president, those unruly kids and the scripturally illiterate congregation, the woman threatening suicide, the man threatening divorce, and the deacon threatening resignation, and all the other harassments against which one feels helpless -- surely these unlikely occasions are not to be taken seriously, for their own sake, as though genuine ministry can take place in them? Yet it may be so." (p. 18-19) It may be so. These may be for us a sharing in the suffering of Christ from which resurrection will be born.

The real point of Luke's account in the Book of Act of Jesus' accession, it seems to me, is not that Jesus ascended but that his disciples didn't. Why, disciples, do you stand looking up toward heaven? (Acts 1:11) The ministry of Jesus' disciples is in the broken world full of pain and resistance, trouble and suffering.

Secondly, Peter seems to suggest that suffering can be a means of creating community. "You know your brothers and sisters in all the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering," he writes. (I Pe 5:9) Trouble, suffering and fiery ordeals can isolate us or they can bring us out of our ministerial loneliness into community. The late James Glasse used to say that when ministers get together we usually spend our time either complaining or bragging. In either mode, we are mostly competing with each other and not really connecting. Sharing our trouble and suffering in honest and vulnerable ways --admitting we've got problems we don't know how to solve, feelings we don't know how to live with, and fears we don't know how to overcome-- has within it the possibility for new community among us.

After spending seven years in conference staff positions, when I again became the pastor of a local church, before my first Lent back in the parish, I called a pastor whose ability to think theologically I respected and asked him to lunch. I want to talk about what to preach on Easter, I warned him. After sitting in pews and listening to Easter sermons these past years, I found myself unsure about what to preach on Easter, I said. I want to talk with you about what you think really happened in Jesus' resurrection that makes a difference for the world our parishioners live in today, I told him. He wrestled with his own theology of the resurrection openly as I shared my questions. After our lunch, he told me it was the first time in his many years of ministry that another clergyperson had ever asked to meet to talk about theology with him.

Trouble, suffering, fiery ordeals have the capacity to create community, if we are willing to take the risk of honesty and vulnerability with one another.

The third thing Peter says about suffering is --this is the most important one for me-- that trouble, suffering and fiery ordeals help by humbling us. He writes: "Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that God may exalt you in due time." (I Pe 5:6) Suffering helps by humbling us.

It is so easy to suppose that our ministries will go well and be effective because we are good at it and work hard. Or else, because we are so spiritual or so loving or so wise or so learned. Not so, if Peter is right. Our ministries will go well because of the presence and power of Christ in our midst, not so much because of us. "To Christ be the power forever and ever," Peter says (I Pe 5:11)

Twice in my life I have had unusual spiritual experiences --if they were spiritual. Once was when I decided to pray three hours a day. I had invited Dr. Benjamin Smith, pastor of Evangelistic Deliverance Church with 10,000 members, to preach for a Lenten midweek service. We were chatting and I asked him how he managed to administer a church with 10,000 members when I could hardly keep up with a church of a few hundred members. He told me that if he prayed an hour a day, his church was impossible to administer. If he prayed two hours a day, it was easier. If he prayed three hours a day it ran itself and, on top of that, just seemed to grow on its own.

I was feeling frustrated and defeated by my inability to grow my church much. Then and there, I resolved to spend three hours a day in prayer for the rest of Lent. The first day I prayed everything I could think of to pray, checked my watch. I had two hours and 45 minutes left to go. I don't recommend that anyone try this without working up to it gradually. It was in my third week of praying three hours a day that I had an unusual spiritual experience -- if it was spiritual. The week before I had started having strange and vivid dreams. One morning that third week, Tuesday morning actually, I had been sitting in my study praying for a couple of hours, when I fell to my knees as though I had been pushed. I thought I heard a voice in my head say: Don't you try to use me! I know Ben Smith! Ben Smith and I spend time together. Ben Smith and I are friends. But you are trying to use me! Don't try to use me! After that I stopped praying three hours a day. I was too scared to pray at all for a time. I felt as spiritually disconnected as I have ever felt. I felt as though I had been spiritually told to sit facing the corner of the room wearing a spiritual dunce cap.

It was that way for several months, until one summer night my son and I were camping on the banks of the Juniata River and late at night I thought I heard a voice in my head say, Now, if you've learned a lesson, perhaps we can do some interesting things together. Since then I have found myself ministering in ways and places I would have never imagined.

I am convinced Peter is right. Trouble, suffering, fiery ordeals can humble us, and prepare us for ministry in which the power and the glory is not ours but Christ's. "And after you have suffered for a little while," Peter writes, "the God of all grace, who has called you to [God's] eternal glory in Christ, will ... restore, support, strengthen, and establish you. To Christ ...to Christ... be the power forever and ever. Amen." (I Pe 5:10-11)

An e-mail from Liberia

John Juech has gracious given me permission to post portions of an e-mail he wrote me from Liberia. John is a Foundry person currently working with the UN in Liberia. He was responding to an essay found here.

Rev. Snyder, I just finished reading the article about Liberia that you wrote for the United Methodist News Service. (I found it at http://www.umc.org/interior.asp?mid=7268) Thank you so much for providing witness about your trip! And, especially for showing people the positive side of this troubled land, the real "story", as you put it.

I feel great gratitude toward anyone that helps raise awareness about the plight of America's forgotten ex-colony in West Africa. It is tragic how few Americans know about our long and often damaging relationship with this country.

The last few days, I have been hosting a journalist from the New York Times Magazine who is writing a story on Liberia and the elections. His article should be published in the NYT magazine sometime this summer. So, look out for that and, whatever else you can do to raise awareness about the importance of the upcoming elections would b! e tremendously appreciated.

We are right in the middle of the voter registration period at the moment here in Liberia. It has been a truly Sisyphean task to set up centers throughout the country for Liberians to register to vote at and then getting the word out, but it seems to be paying dividends so far. Watching ordinary citizens wait in long lines in the hot sun to dip their fingers in indelible ink and register to vote has been one of the most joyous and rewarding experiences of my life. We are expecting that nearly 1.5 million Liberians will register, which represents fully 50% of the population, an amazing figure in a country almost bereft of paved roads and other types of infrastructure.

It is difficult to know what the outcome of the elections in October will be, and a bit scary as well, for the future of the country very much rides on the outcome. ... Many days I am hopeful about an outcome that would help ordinary Liberians; other days, I fear that the influence of money and corruption will be too much to overcome. Certainly, I constantly pray that things work out in a way that the country's fragile peace process can be maintained and built upon.

Although living and working in this country taxes every aspect of my being, it also brings great joy to have the opportunity to assist Liberians to pick up the pieces and try and build a better future. Not a day goes by where I am not inspired by the courage and resilience of ordinary Liberians to make the most out of very difficult circumstances. It is so humbling as a privileged American to see this day in and day out and learn from Liberians and the way that they go about their lives. I feel so lucky to have this opportunity to be working for the United Nations and contributing to the peace process here.

I am sorry that we were not able to get together while you were here in Monrovia. That was a very hectic time for me, but I would have loved to see you and other representatives of the Methodist Church here, so I regret that it didn't work out. I always appreciated the messages that you delivered during my days at Foundry and the progressive leadership that you provided for the church.

Thanks so much, John Juech

The Question I am Most Often Asked -- Part Three

After the dialogue in The Question I Am Most Often Asked By People Visiting My Church's Website -- Part One and Part Two, (both of which would be helpful to skim before reading this post), I received this e-mail from my dialogue partner:

Dean, Thanks for the thoughtful response!. It seems to me that, in your view, there is little or no absolute truth, only that truth at which each individual arrives after considering the whole counsel of scripture....even when there are specific admonitions given about a particular subject. Am I wrong here?

This seems to me a dangerous view, and taken to extreme, that view would necessarily allow all manner of sin. What of the potential murderer who has come to his own conclusion that murder is actually condoned by the whole counsel of scripture, the 6th commandment notwithstanding? I realize that this example is a little "off the edge", but no more so than your example of the mid-19th century preacher trying to use scripture to justify slavery.

I read with interest your mention of divorce, and second marriages that often are a result. My view is that the Methodist allowance of marriage after divorce is simply bowing to the current culture's whim. Why should one consider a "larger sense of the spirit of Scripture" when we have specific Scripture to abide by in most cases?. Appealing to a "larger sense of the spirit of Scripture" should only be done when considering an issue that is not directly addressed in the Bible. This view of scripture is not "simplistic", but rather founded on obedience to God's written word.

Regarding your point in which you presuppose that homosexual behavior is simply the logical outcome of an innate,and likely God-given characteristic, again I refer to other acts that scripture deems to be sinful. Can a man who has committed adultery against God and his wife say "I have an inborn need to have sexual contact with other women"? Of course not. Does this man rightly claim that his actions have at their root God's consent, since he claims that God created him that way? Or do we rightly judge that this man has given himself up to temptation and gone out and sinned on his own, with God opposed to his chosen actions? Similarly, can the men at the head of Enron claim that they were inborn with a desire to make a lot of money, and as a result claim that their actions of greed be excused, since God made them greedy? If not, why the inconsistency?

The adulterer is universally condemned by all, but maybe his actions should be hailed by some Methodist task force that has decided that black and white Biblical admonitions are too simplistic to apply to our complex modern world.

I apologize for my tone, but there exactly does this all end? Assuaging the consciences of the guilty do not help the guilty, but rather condemns them. Romans 12:2 admonishes us : "And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect." (NASB) God has called us out to be different, not to accept what He clearly in scripture has deemed to be sinful, even though being faithful to Him often makes us appear intolerant and judgmental to our current culture. His truths are perfect and unchanging.

I think the kind of conversation we have been having in this exchange is important. I think the question is, whether we ever manage to agree on this (which seems doubtful), can we grow in our understanding of each other? I appreciate the directness of this e-mail and the arguments that are forcefully articulated.

The discussion in the e-mail of our respective understandings of truth is helpful. The way the e-mail states it --that I do not believe in absolute truth but only truth that each individual arrives at after considering the whole counsel of Scripture-- helps me clarify in my own mind and heart what it is I do believe about absolute truth. Thanks.

The e-mail is wrong about me believing there is little or no absolute truth. I do believe there is absolute truth. But the e-mail is right that I do think each of us has to arrive at it on our own, albeit in dialogue and community with others. The e-mail seems to assume that absolute truth does not need to be personally appropriated, but is somehow obvious to everyone who wants to know it. I do not think this is right.

In other words, saying that there is absolute truth does not mean that each person doesn't have to search for it and arrive at his or her own understanding of it. I think, too, that truth probably must be studied, discussed and discerned in community or our perception of truth becomes too individualistic, but I still think we cannot escape our own personal search for moral discernment, not even by pointing to words written in the Bible as though those words could decide for us.

Scripture informs our search; it does not replace the need for it. Not even the Bible frees us from moral responsibility. We cannot simply say something is right or wrong because of one, two, several or a hundred quotes in the Bible. (Although I do think we ought to pay more attention to the things repeated over and over again hundreds of times in the Bible like biblical teachings about the poor and social justice.)

The e-mail is also right that I do think that we have to consider the whole counsel of Scripture, even when there are specific admonitions given in specific verses. Further, while I do think there is absolute truth, I am skeptical of those who think they have it infallibly. To say there is absolute truth does not mean I know it absolutely. In fact, I suspect none of us has a corner on absolute truth, certainly not me.

In Part Two, I tried to use two examples to illustrate why we need to consider specific verses and teachings in the light of the whole counsel of Scripture and the deeper meaning of the biblical drama. One was the widespread belief 175 years ago in America that the Bible endorsed slavery. Many, many scholars and believers used verses from the Bible to make a coherent case (given their assumptions about how to appropriate Scripture) for slavery during the early and mid-19th century.

The e-mail calls this observation "off the edge." I do not understand why. If this very conversation were happening in 1842, we would be discussing whether the Bible endorses slavery, not whether it condemns loving relationships between gay and lesbian folk. I used the writing of Rev. Thorton Stringfellow to illustrate how a reading of specific references and verses in the Bible without attention to the whole counsel of Scripture and the implications of the larger biblical story could be used to make an effective argument for the biblical endorsement of slavery. I have not been able to find a copy because it is out of print, but Amazon.com lists a publication entitled: Slavery defended from Scripture, against the attacks of the abolitionists: In a speech delivered before the General Conference of the Methodist Protestant Church, in Baltimore, 1842 by Alexander McCaine.

Think of this: Rev. Alexander McCaine made a 28-page speech to the General Conference of the United Methodist Church using Bible verses and references to defend the institution of slavery! I fail to see how this precedent is "off the edge." It seems quite relevant to me.

The absolute truth of Scripture --which is what it has to show us about the heart of God-- is larger than any collection of specific verses. The second example I used was the decision of the United Methodist Church to allow second marriages after divorce in spite of the fact that Jesus himself is quoted in Matthew 19:9 and Mark 10:11 as saying that if someone divorces and marries again he or she is guilty of adultery. The United Methodist Church has come to the conclusion that, in spite of these verses, people should not be denied the comforts and joys of human romantic love as a result of past failed marriages.

Although I disagree with the perspective stated in the e-mail about this, I respect the integrity of the argument made in the e-mail: that this is a sign that the United Methodist Church is kowtowing to the dominant culture. The e-mail suggests that if we, as United Methodists, were stronger and more biblical we would not allow second marriages. I disagree but I also clearly understand this argument. It is consistent.

So, let me try another illustration. I Corinthians 33b-36 says: "As in all the churches of the saints, women should be silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be subordinate, as the law also says. If there is anything they desire to know, let them ask their husbands at home. For it is shameful for a woman to speak in church. Or did the word of God originate with you? Or are you the only ones it has reached?" (NRSV) This admonition seems pretty direct. Is the fact that our church today allows women to preach, teach, vote at Council meetings, chair committees, and serve as lay leaders another example of kowtowing to culture? Or is there a deeper impulse in Scripture (as becomes clearer in light of the insights of science and medicine about gender differences and sociological understanding of the history of patriarchy) that leads us to the discernment that women are the equals of men in church and society today in spite of this direct admonition? Even the Apostle Paul did not always see the full implications of the radical Gospel he proclaimed, especially in aspects of life --such as patriarchy-- where he had been severely indoctrinated by the culture of which he was part and where he was limited by the scientific understandings he was taught and had available to him.

At least Paul did not claim to have a corner on absolute truth and had enough sense to be able to say, "We know only in part ... For now we see through a glass darkly." (I Cor. 13:9,12) I hope this illustration of the need to consider the whole counsel of Scripture and to prayerfully discern the deeper meaning of the biblical story is not also "off the edge." I would be happy to hear a different understanding of how to appropriate Scripture or a different explanation of this Corinthian passage, but, frankly, I do not find it helpful for someone to merely reject something he or she disagrees with by dismissively calling it "off the edge." I believe that the biblical writers did not know (and could not be expected to know) what science and medicine are teaching us today.

For some men and some women same-gender romantic love is innate and natural. I do not believe that the morality of relationships is determined solely or primarily by the gender of the persons in relationship but by the quality and characteristics of the relationship. While I believe straight people can participate in the discussion, I think gay and lesbian folk need to take the lead in discerning how biblical teachings about romantic love and commitment apply to their community. We have told gay folk for years that any and all expressions of romantic love under any and all circumstances whatsoever are wrong. We have denied them any and all possibilities of the comforts and joys of human romantic love while elevating and celebrating our own commitments and marriages as holy. Now it is time for us to listen instead of assuming we know how other people should live their lives on the basis of a couple of verses of Scripture which need to be restudied in light of new information the biblical writers did not have.

The e-mail raises two additional strong points which need to be thought through. One argument made in the e-mail is that by my logic it would be possible for someone to say that he or she has an innate need to commit adultery, embezzle, or even commit murder. But there is a difference between sexual orientation and innate desires. (I think my discussion of this in the past may have been inadequate and I appreciate this e-mail pushing me to clarify my thinking.)

Many of us are clear about our opposite-gender sexual orientation. Many men know that a loving romantic relationship is only possible for them with a woman. They can and do have intimate caring relationships with other men, but a loving romantic relationship with a man would just not be possible for them. For them, the only possibility of the quality of loving romantic relationship that we celebrate in our marriage vows and elsewhere is with a woman. For many women, the only possibility of a profoundly caring romantic relationship is with a man. But for those whose sexual orientation is same-gender, (as medicine and science are discovering) the only possibility of the quality of loving romantic relationship we uphold as valuable will be with a person of the same gender. To ask them to fake it by pretending to be romantically drawn to a person of the opposite sex would undermine the very quality of romantic relationship we celebrate, uphold and promote.

The goal remains the same for everyone --a loving relationship with the qualities we all celebrate and uphold. The only thing that is different is the gender of the persons. In this light, the argument about adultery doesn't work. If you deny gay and lesbian people the possibility of committed loving relationships, it seems to me you are actually promoting sexual instability. The other option is to require gay and lesbian folk to be celibate. While the Apostle Paul considered celibacy a preferred state (I Cor. 7:1-2, 7-8, etc.), I am grateful that he also recognized the need that most of us have for romantic love in order for our lives to be full and complete. (I Cor. 7:9)

I think it is wrong for those of us who are straight to claim for ourselves the privilege of romantic love and marriage and then deny it to others. It is not a matter of innate desire but a matter of a given orientation. If a person were born straight, I would certainly not endorse same-gender sex just for fun. Sex is always meant to be an expression of love. We should not expect either straight or gay people to have sex with people they cannot romantically love. Neither should we mandate celibacy for those who are not called to it or do not voluntarily choose it.

The last important point that the e-mail makes is that we are instructed by Scripture not to be conformed to this world but to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. I want to claim a point of personal privilege on this one. In 1978 when I was being considered for a position at a university, I was asked by the hiring committee to prepare a statement of my vision for the job. I included in my statement the hope, among many others, that gay and lesbian people might be fully included in the life of the university. In 1978 the administration of this university and some people on the hiring committee thought that same-sex orientation was a perversion, as did much of society at the time. The committee finally hired me but not without extensive debate. I risked the possibility of getting a position I very much wanted because of my commitment to inclusion born out of my experience of the transforming love of God. I was not conformed to the world which reject and hated gay and lesbian people but transformed by the renewing of my mind by the grace of God.

In 1978 people were arguing against acceptance of gay folk because "everyone knows it is wrong." Now the argument is that those who oppose the acceptance of gay and lesbian folk must be right because their views are increasingly a minority opinion over against the culture. Friends, you can't have it both ways.

This is clearly not an easy conversation. I am not sure what motivated my dialogue partner to e-mail me originally, but I am glad he did and hope this conversation has been beneficial to him in some way as well. This conversation has been good for me because it reminds me of how dear the Bible is and should be to us and because it has pushed me to think more clearly. I am appreciative.

Yes, Let's focus on the family!

Several weeks ago I got a note from one of our Sunday School teachers. The children had been studying the story in the Gospel of John of the wedding at Cana that Jesus, his mother, and his disciples attended. In the story, Mary mentions to Jesus that they have run out of wine at the wedding. Jesus answers Mary by saying: "Woman, what have you to do with me? My hour has not yet come." (John 2:4 RSV)

The children in the Sunday School class wanted me to explain how it could be that Jesus would speak to his mother this --well-- disrespectfully.

Uh oh.

I piled up a stack of commentaries on my desk this high and started reading. The commentaries had many theories and rationalizations for what Jesus said to his mother, and I passed a few of their ideas onto the Sunday School teacher, but I was left, in my heart or hearts, with the conviction that our precocious Sunday School children were not all wrong. There is something of an edge, or at least a boundary, in Jesus' reply to Mary.

George Beasley-Murray says in the Word Bible Commentary for the Gospel of John: "The import of [Jesus'] statement is to declare that [his] service for the kingdom of God is determined solely by his Father; into that area not even his mother can intrude." (p. 35) In fact, if you read the Gospels with fresh eyes, it seems pretty clear that Jesus' relationship with his family was not always cozy.

{Continued here.)

What are the bishops trying to tell us about the Stroud appeal?

Last week the executive committee of the Council of Bishops issued a statement about the appeals court decision in the Beth Stroud case that surprises me. The pronouncement includes three surprising statements:

1) The bishops on the executive committee encourage "all United Methodists to be patient;"

2) The bishops say the appeals committee has reversed the trial verdict "based upon some technicalities;" and

3) They say the appeals court decision "does not in any way reverse the standards in our Book of Discipline."

What are the bishops trying to tell us? How should we interpret their pronouncement?

Let's begin with their second affirmation: that the verdict has been reversed based on "some technicalities." Technicalities seems to me a word that suggests matters of little substance or significance. The "legal" section of urban folklore newsgroup uses heavy irony to capture the way this term is usually used: Question from the urban folklore newsgroup: "The po-lice had arrested a serial murderer. Caught him red handed so to speak. He was released by a commielib, bleeding heart judge on a 'technicality,' seems his 'rights' were violated during the arrest. ... It occurred to me that this kind of thing has become an UL [Urban Legend]. Everyone's heard of cases like this one. Is there any basis in fact for these UL's?" Answer: "The 'technicality' in question usually turns out to be some really obscure point of law like the Fifth Amendment." (Notice the irony?)

What are the "technicalities,"as the bishops on the executive committee put it, that caused the appeals court to reverse the trial verdict in Beth Stroud's case? One is that the trial's presiding officer or judge did not allow Beth Stroud to argue that sexual orientation is a status and that the Constitution of the United Methodist Church says that "no conference or other organizational unit of the Church shall be structured so as to exclude any member or any constituent body of the Church because of race, color, national origin, status or economic condition." ("The Constitution," Division One, article IV, 2004 Book of Discipline, p. 22) This is reinforced in Division Two, Section I, Article IV.13 of the Constitution which charges General Conference with the responsibility "to secure the rights and privileges of membership in all agencies, programs and institutions of The United Methodist Church regardless of race or status." (p. 26)

If sexual orientation is a status (as many of us believe), then it is highly likely that current church laws are structured so as to unconstitutionally exclude some members from certain organizational units , such as the Order of Elders, because of status and/or so as to deny some members rights and privileges on the basis of status. This question, at the very least, ought to be considered before taking away someone's ordination credentials.

Ruling out of order any consideration of the constitutionality of the law Beth Stroud was charged with seems to me a serious matter. The Book of Discipline (Paragraph 2715.9) says that "questions of church law may be carried on appeal, step by step, to the Judicial Council." Without actually saying "Duh!" out loud, the appeals court ruling points out the obvious: "It goes without saying that questions of Church law cannot be 'carried on appeal, step by step,' if they cannot be presented in the first instance during the trial proceedings." (p. 9)

Further, the question of whether sexual orientation is a status has not been an obscure matter within the United Methodist Church. It has been an open question since at least 1993 when the Judicial Council issued Decision 702 stating clearly that it would be difficult to evaluate and enforce certain church laws unless General Conference, or annual conferences, determined whether sexual orientation is a status. In fact, the decision makes it clear that sexual orientation may well be a status: "In regard to the definition of the word 'status' in the Constitutional Amendment, the following observations must be made in the light of its legislative history: 1. There is no evidence that the word 'status' was intended to include the clergy status of a self-avowed practicing homosexual. 2. There is no evidence in the legislative history that the word 'status' does not include the clergy status of a self-avowed practicing homosexual. 3. It is obvious that if the normal definition of 'status' is used, it would be all-inclusive. 4. The word 'status' is not defined either in the legislative process or in the Discipline."

The Judicial Council recognizes that the "normal definition" of the word "status" wo