Smackdown: Pastoral vs Pugilistic Presbyters

Ayr Presbytery’s meeting last week was the really difficult for me. Not only was parliamentary procedure thrown out to the window to detriment of everyone, but presbyters kept making the distinction between tackling a certain matter before presbytery in terms of discipline or pastorally.
Not once did anyone challenge the assertion that a complaint made to the clerk could either be taken up as a matter of church discipline, or as a matter of pastoral concern. It was a telling moment.
If I made that absolute distinction before my presbytery committee overseeing my ordination process, or if I argued that distinction on my polity ordination exams, I imagine I’d be in for some major challenges.
For those of us in the PC(USA), the discipline of the church is pastoral. Sure, discipline may not always seem so, but the beauty inherent to the Book of Order is that discipline is always delivered in a pastoral manner. More, the discipline process itself is seen as the height of pastoral concern, not as distinguished from it.
Read the preamble to the PC(USA) Book of Discipline, and marvel at its beauty:
D-1.0101 Church Discipline
Church discipline is the church’s exercise of authority given by
Christ, both in the direction of guidance, control, and nurture of its
members and in the direction of constructive criticism of offenders.
The church’s disciplinary process exists not as a substitute for
the secular judicial system, but to do what the secular judicial
system cannot do. The purpose of discipline is to honor God by
making clear the significance of membership in the body of Christ;
to preserve the purity of the church by nourishing the individual
within the life of the believing community; to achieve justice and
compassion for all participants involved; to correct or restrain
wrongdoing in order to bring members to repentance and restoration;
to uphold the dignity of those who have been harmed by
disciplinary offenses; to restore the unity of the church by removing
the causes of discord and division; and to secure the just,
speedy, and economical determination of proceedings. In all
respects, all participants are to be accorded procedural safeguards
and due process, and it is the intention of these rules so to provide.
Darn tootin.
image by stroinski
Low Sunday

This is a bit old now, but I want to get it out there for posterity’s sake (and for search engines). Who knows, you might thank me one day because you’ll be the only one in your group who knows…
In some Church of Scotland churches, as in some churches around the world, the Sunday following Easter Sunday is called “Low Sunday.” I have to say, I was a bit taken aback to see “Low Sunday” on the front of a bulletin a few weeks ago.
Yes I know, some might note–and preachers certainly do–that Low Sunday is a perfect name for the Sunday after Easter since many fewer people attend worship as compared to Easter Sunday. While this may be true in some churches, the Sunday after Easter should include all the joy and celebration of Easter as it is still the Easter season. It’s not a time for letdown, and is best described as “The Second Sunday of Easter” to capture Easter continuity. (“The first Sunday after Easter” description isn’t as good, since it loses the emphasis on the second Sunday itself). But back to “Low Sunday.”
The name “Low Sunday” is actually a corruption of the Latin phrase Laudes Salvatori voce modulemur supplici which at some point back in the day were the first words of the mass. “Laudes,” which means “praise” sorta sounds like “low” and folks think this is where the term Low Sunday originated. (The whole phrase means “let us sing praises to the savior with humble voice.”) [Many thanks to JD for the Latin help.]
Now I’ve been called a liturgical nerd from time to time and a traditionalist to boot, but I think continuing the Low Sunday appellation is plain silly. If you still use the 16th century Latin mass text, go ahead and call it “Laudes Sunday,” but continuing a century-old mistake in “Low Sunday” is a laughable example of church change avoidance.
Let us praise for all of Eastertide, corrupted names aside.
image by planetka
Book Review: "The New Christians" by Tony Jones
I won a free copy of Tony Jones’ fancy new book, “The New Christians: Dispatches from the Emergent Frontier” a few weeks ago from Adam, and since Jones’ publicist sent the free copy all the way to Scotland, I figured it deserves a nice long post. (Actually, I won it in a contest at pomomusings, so many thanks to Adam and his blog that gets so many more hits than mine.)
I’ll begin with what has been noted by most reviewers: if you want to read one book on the emergent church, The New Christians is by far the best value for your time and money. No doubt about it: TNC is worth reading.
I most appreciated the description in the early chapters explaining how the emergent church movement developed. Quick summary: some top-notch post-modern evangelical types became uncomfortable with the direction the evangelical leadership was heading and happened upon a church movement that dovetailed with the post-modernism they lived and breathed, and the connectivity and community provided by the internet (you could also say the Holy Spirit helped out, but Jones does take a more academic approach).
Though I’ve been quite aware of emergent the past few years, I didn’t know the full story behind the beginning and was fascinated–probably my favorite part of the book. I knew emergent had evangelical roots, but I didn’t know that some of their first brainstorming sessions were funded by evangelical groups, who, later by the way, pulled the money quick.
Jones’ goes on to describe the ethos, theology, and practicality of the movement in the remaining chapters. He keeps things very approachable for non-churchy folk, or for church folk who are not familiar with discussions of post-modernity. Interlacing the entire work with stories of people touched by emergent, and with “dispatches from the trenches” meant to describe particular characteristics of the emergent church, Jones covers a lot of ground in his 220 pages. You can tell he’s a pastor, in that he’s a good communicator and addresses his intended audience well.
Before I get to my critique, here’s some of the dispatches:
Dispatch 1: Emergents find little importance in the differences between various flavors of Christianity. Instead, they practice a generous orthodoxy that appreciates the contributions of all Christian movements.
Dispatch 6: Emergents see God’s activity in all aspects of culture and reject the sacred-secular divide.
Dispatch 8: Emergents find the biblical call to community more compelling than the democratic call to individual rights. The challenge lies in being faithful to both ideals.
Dispatch 11: Emergents believe that awareness of our relative position–to God, to one another, and to history–breeds biblical humility, not relativistic apathy.
Dispatch 16: Emergents believe that church should function more like an open-source network and less like a hierarchy.
Dispatch 18: Emergents firmly hold that God’s Spirit–not their own efforts–is responsible for the good in the world. The human task is to cooperate with God in what God is already doing.
Dispatch 19: Emergents downplay–or downright reject–the difference between clergy and laity.
Jones pops these dispatches in throughout the work, and they work well as talking points or pointed descriptors of emergent.
Critique:
Here’s my main critique, and where I think Jones could have done a bit more. Because of the context of emergent’s emerging–namely, the mainly American Evangelical church movement–Jones seems to focus on distinguishing emergent from evangelical Christianity, he discusses conversations and battles between emergent and evangelicalism with little discussion of emergent and mainline denominations.
Sure, mainline talk sometimes comes up–e.g. at the end of the book, Jones describes his visits to four emergent churches, one of them being Church of the Apostles in Seattle which has Lutheran and Episcopal connections.
But what I kept yearning for–and writing in the margins, again and again–is the acknowledgment and analysis of the fact that basically every single dispatch describing the emergent church applies to my liberal mainline fairly traditional church founded in 1832. Ok, Jones can’t speak to my particular context of Old First Church Tallahassee. And sure, not every dispatch fits perfectly–not many people on the congregational care committee would describe it as “open-source” or “wiki” (though it certainly has many of the characteristics)–but I felt like Jones was leaning his writing too much in the direction of evangelicals to the detriment of mainline conversation.
This problem jumps out at you in the public relations write-up that came with my copy. The PR person says TNC explores emergent, and that “It’s a total re-examination of the gospel that has resulted in a mash-up of old and new, of theory and practice, and of mainline, evangelical, and increasingly, Roman Catholic Christians.” Come again: “total re-examination of the gospel”? Say what? If almost every member of my mainline congregation would affirm every dispatch from the trenches–or further–if almost every member of my mainline congregation could read a re-worded dispatch and think it was written about my congregation, then the “total re-examination” description is lacking something.
Emergent is not quite a “total re-examination of the gospel,” it’s a re-examination of the gospel out of one flavor of Christianity, and it has taken on many characteristics of other flavors of Christianity.
I don’t want to be too hard on Jones. He’s a great guy, a fine theologian, a strong blogger, a twin cities man, and has written a fantastic book. But I feel like he skews too much towards the evangelical conversation to the detriment of a deeper and a bit more complicated conversation with both the evangelical and mainline.
Here’s a few other ponderings the book brought up:
- The emergent community tends to be pretty darn young, as Jones notes. Why? What happens in twenty years? And why aren’t emergent churches which thrive in diversity seeking to broaden the conversation to older generations?
- I loved Jones’ description of the problem of fideism of the right (Piper) and the left (Borg) and the call for dialogue and faith in between. [p. 154-5]
- Jones’ format is really well done–it’s in six chapters, but has several threads that run through and color each chapter, as well as the dispatches mixed-in. He makes a linear and logical progression from page 1 to 220, but there’s helpful and non-disrupting stops along the way that add depth and breadth to the work. Either his editor or Jones did very well.
- Love what a member of Jacob’s Well says of his community, “I like it when Tim says, ‘People experience God emotionally, intellectually, relationally, and aesthetically,’ and this church aims to make every one of those experiences available to people.”
- My final question relates to my main critique above. It’s a bit contextual, but here it is: Is St. John’s Lutheran Church in Atlanta emergent? It’s a bit older than most emergent, but it’s fairly hip. It’s all about emergent’s inclusivism, call for community, problems with hiearchy (tends to happen when the denomination says your pastor isn’t your pastor), worship is innovative and free, and it’s all about the dispatches. Can a church be emergent without knowing it, or trying to be. Does emergent have to stem from this evangelical break-up, or can it include an even broader community?
Thoughts?
Every evening this week…

How does my Church of Scotland congregation do Holy Week? Thanks for asking, here’s how.
As seems to be a fairly common tradition in Scotland, my congregation holds worship services every night of Holy Week except Saturday. I can’t track down when this tradition began, but folks tell me it’s happened for years (like 50+).
Every night, Monday through Friday, 7:30 pm service. Each service is fairly simple and very similar to the other evenings except for Thursday’s service which includes communion. St. Columba teams with a church in a neighboring town for these services, so the preaching load is shared among several ministers.
After only one service, I’m of two minds regarding the practice of having a hour-long service every single day of Holy Week. On the one hand, it recognizes the importance of Holy Week in the Christian calendar, and those who attend can mark Jesus’ journey to the cross. It’s easy to jump from Palm Sunday to Easter without remembering what happened in between.
On the other hand, I’m aware of some practical issues. I realize efficiency can be made into an idol, but consider a solo minister preparing five sermons the week before Easter Sunday, and for–if we’re honest–services attended by a relatively few number of people. It’s difficult enough to find the time for one quality sermon a week. Thankfully, due to our partnership with another church and strategic use of guest preachers, our week won’t be too harsh. It’s worth considering, though.
Also, I wonder what having daily services attended by a very few does to the group dynamics of a congregation. What do who can only attend one service think of the folk with lighter evening work schedules? Do those who attend every night feel somehow more holy or more a part of the congregation?
Here’s my big question, though. Presuming one does not expect many members to attend all five Holy Week services, as busy lives of work and service call folks in many other directions, what does the church say when it holds services expected to be poorly attended?
Yes, the number of those attending corporate worship should not be a congregation’s primary concern–certainly quality not quantity is important–but musn’t quality be affected at some point? I mean, a church could hold a service every single day, and probably at least one person would come to most services. Most congregations don’t hold daily services, though, so a decision is being made somewhere that holds up other concerns over daily corporate worship attended by a very few.
Perhaps another way, during Holy Week, is for congregations to enable worship in homes, with families or small groups. Think about a family after supper reading a Holy Week lectionary passage, praying, and singing a simple hymn together. That practice might be much better–and much more realistic–than figuring out how to feed the kids, pick them up from football, facilitate homework, and get them to shower somehow around the 7:30 service.
Or I know of an Atlanta congregation that facilitates Maundy Thursday footwashing services in a number of homes throughout the area so member can take part in the intimate and–for some–uncomfortable service in a smaller informal setting after a pot luck.
What are your Holy Week traditions or ideas, worship or otherwise?
Image by Fernando Rossi
Climate Change in the Church
On a British political talk show this week, a politician said, “I believe the threat of climate change is much worse than the threat of terrorism.” And what was unbelievable for this American shaped by the politics of fear: not one of the board of politicians from every party bothered to disagree. So what is your church doing to address climate change?

I’m proud to say that my church, First Presbyterian Church, Tallahassee has taken the pledge to go carbon neutral. I’ll share the steps they’re taking (pilfered from a recent church newsletter article) in the hope that our move might inspire other churches and organizations to do the same.
First, as part of a recent capital campaign, the church has pledged the funds to install solar panels (in shop talk that’s a ” photovoltaic electrical generating plant.”) In addition to saving energy, these panels will serve as a visible statement of environmental stewardship to the community.
But don’t think a church must purchase expensive solar panels to make a difference.
Second (or really, first in the actual order of completion), the church is replacing old windows with double-paned energy efficient windows. Window air-conditioners have been replaced with energy-efficient models, and light fixtures are being changed to fluorescent bulbs.
Third, the session is asking every council to come up with ideas that will decrease their environmental impact. Church meals will include more locally produced produce. And–get this–will become entirely vegetarian! (I’ll believe this when I see it, but it’s a good idea for the health of the planet, and for the health of individual church members.)
Fourth, the Session will purchase carbon offsets to lessen the environmental impact of the carbon-based energy still used despite the move towards efficiency. (Based on current usage, offsets will cost approximately $1000 per year, and should be covered by the money saved by other projects.)
Finally, the Session will emphasize carbon neutrality in all its stewardship, asking every member of the congregation to go carbon neutral. For more information on how you can go carbon neutral, see this Carbon Neutral Guide.
If the politicians of fear were to tackle climate change, they would say things like, “If we don’t act now, how will we explain to our grandchildren that our greediness destroyed the earth?” Or, “If we fail to act, climate change will murder millions.” Or “Not even America, the strongest nation in the world, is immune to the perils of climate change.” And the funny thing is, if they said that, they’d be right.
image by Rodolfo Clix
So what?
The Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life released a mega survey yesterday called the “Religious Landscape Survey.” It hit several front pages yesterday and is popping around the blogosphere today (see blogrunner here.) The NY Times summary is here.
What I have yet to find, however, is any real analysis. For most professional churchy folks, nothing from the survey should really jump out. We’ve known mainline denominations are decline and immigration is changing the religious landscape. We’ve known church affiliation of young adults is declining. We’ve known the south is more religious than the northwest. So what?
Jim Wallis just posted his first response, but it’s more a remix of his normal platform than a real reflection.
So I’ll hasten to add my non-reactions in the first 24 hours as well. First, it takes time to meaningfully reflect on huge reports. Our 24/7 news cycle is not fit for this. It gets Wallis and televangelist and a bishop to reflect on the report without having read it fully, and without time to process. Better forums include weeklies, journals, the academy. Sure, by releasing the report in such a form Pew Forum makes a big splash, but the water will evaporate after HRC’s next kitchen-sink campaign blunder.
Second, almost all blog entries I found on the report are just disseminating the basic findings without any significant reflection. The little reflection I found is just a rehashing of the blogger’s usual position. Perhaps the breadth of immediate dissemination is wide, but the depth of reflection is shallow.
So give me a week. I’ll think on these things, research a bit, pop my Scottish context into the mix and see if anything bubbles up. And if you find any solid reflections on the survey, let me know and I’ll post them in an update below.
Update:
- Again, a re-saying of his normal rhetoric, but a good one. Brian McLaren reflects on the survey here.
Visiting Elders and Impossible Minister Ratios: Differences of the Scottish and American Church
My article for the church magazine follows. I tried my best to write a balanced perspective, both pushing a bit on the Church of Scotland and celebrating their many fine aspects. If I’m brave, I’ll write more detailed reflections in the future on each of the article’s three points. An outsider coming in and telling you all your faults is no fun–and not ministry–so one must tread carefully, with humility, always remembering the log in one’s own eye.
February Magazine Article
Mrs. Kelley, my high school Latin teacher loved teaching us common English sayings in Latin, I think to show that the Latin language wasn’t quite dead yet. I still remember a few of those sayings: Veritos vos liberabit is from John 8:32, “The truth shall set you free.” Cave canum means “Beware of the dog.” And tempus fugit translates to “Time flies.”
My time at St. Columba so far has allowed me to consider all these phrases. Certainly, the Bible has played a large role, including Jesus’ teachings about truth. Far too many pastoral visits have me dodging a dog–maybe its their instinctual response to another wearing a dog collar. And my time at St. Columba has surely flown by.
Though few of you have asked me anything about my Latin language experience–thank goodness, it’s all a blur–many have asked about my perceptions of the differences in the Church of Scotland and the American Presbyterian church. So I shall take this brief column to note what strike me as the most notable differences. Please take these thoughts in the open and reflective spirit in which they are given. Indeed, neither the Church of Scotland nor the American Presbyterian church has everything figured out, and we all would do well to consider how the Spirit is moving in our own context and beyond.
First, one major difference between our denominations is the duties of elders. In American Presbyterian churches, elders are not assigned a district and therefore do not regularly visit members. Conscientious St. Columba elders will visit those in their district at least quarterly to drop by communion cards, and perhaps a few more times for other purposes. At home, the average size of church sessions is perhaps 20-30 elders, and elders only sit on the session for a few years. They are still charged will similar tasks–to nurture the faith and life of their congregation, to visit, comfort, and support their community of faith–but the American Presbyterian church lacks a tradition of regular visitation.
Second, perhaps the most significant difference in our denominations is the ratio of ministers to members. An American Presbyterian church of similar membership to St. Columba (1400 members) would likely have about five ministers on staff and several other full-time employees. I suppose this drastic difference is mainly due to differences in financial support, but is cultural as well. Americans expect “programs” from their church–organized mission trips, education and evening activities for young people, weekly meals and classes for adults, Sunday school for all ages. Church members in Scotland tend not to carry such expectations. Perhaps, too, one consequence of this difference in ministers to member ratio is the importance of Scottish members helping to support the work of the church as there are fewer full-time staff members.
Third, another striking difference is the Church of Scotland’s parish structure. Many Church of Scotland ministers spend a significant amount of time conducting funerals for those within the bounds of the parish but with no clear connection to the particular kirk. Also, ministers in Scotland have certain duties in the schools. In the States, Presbyterian ministers seldom conduct funerals for those unconnected to a particular church, and the idea of a minister teaching in a school is mind-boggling, so strong is our cultural prescription for “the separation of church and state.” So Scottish ministers have more clear and consistent contact with a specific geographical area while American ministers are more like free-range meat, working over a fairly large area.
I could go on, as I’m fascinated by these differences and their corollaries. Do American churches rely too much on ministers? In America, what does it say when someone moving to a new town may not find a Presbyterian church within fifty miles? Should the Church of Scotland–as was suggested in February’s edition of Life and Work–consider steps to train elders to conduct parish funerals? Does the American penchant for church programs overshadow more pressing needs outwith the church? Should any Church of Scotland congregation, or American congregation for that matter, have multiple ministers while rural parishes struggle to call even one?
These, and many others, are the questions the Scottish and American Presbyterian churches face. I pray that we may all move forward, seeking Christ’s will, being guided by the Holy Spirit, and praising God in all we say and do. Or as Mrs. Kelley would say, Ad maiorem dei gloriam, “For the greater glory of God.”



