I’m excited and a bit overwhelmed that:

• Another article of mine was published in The Christian Century, (sorry no link, dead tree edition only). It’s entitled “Songfest: Challenges for a hymnal committee.”
• I will be the preacher for two weeks of Montreat Youth Conferences in early June 2011
• I will begin an eight-week stint blogging as The Christian Century featured blogger next week (site relaunch to come on their end soon, I’m told)
• I’m taking Comm 507: Communication, Technology, and Media at the University of North Dakota this semester
• I’ll be preaching on Oct 24th, with Dr. Martha Moore-Keish, at the 25th Anniversary celebration of my parents’ time at First Presbyterian in Tallahassee.

I’m grateful that:

• I have been at First Press Hallock for a year and much of the first-time craziness has worn off
• I just got back from a time of vacation and rest
• the food from Red Goose Gardens, our CSA, is so delicious
• I read Everything: A Novel by Kevin Canty – dazzling writing, gripping story
• Autumn temperatures have arrived
• Megan and I celebrated our four year wedding anniversary last weekend

I’m considering especially:

• if Minnesota Public Radio really means to announce their BBC Proms programming with the adjective “infamous” as in their frequently-heard advertisement this week: “the infamous last night of the Proms”–or am I just missing something?
• my first go at teaching confirmation and looking forward to using re:form
• how on vacation, I rarely looked at Facebook, and that was ok, even nice
• why pine nuts are so darn expensive
• race and how we speak of racism in American and reading White Like Me: Reflections on Race from a Privilidged Son by Tim Wise and Why are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? by Beverly Daniel Tatum.

image by Fred Fokkelman

Dawn’s point, if I remember correctly, was that our moral imperative (for her, most definitely the Christian imperative) is for us to work for justice and peace at all times. Getting hung up on each day’s top stories and media ratings games pushes us off course. We get stuck in the trees of the hour’s headlines and miss the forest of God’s goodness, justice, holiness, and peace.

She wouldn’t have put it this way, but Dawn was speaking in favor of a TIME magazine print edition way of living as opposed to a Drudge Report approach. The TIME dead tree edition comes out weekly and has a more penetrating and expansive view of news — partly due to higher word counts, partly due to the timeliness of the news. But if you go to TIME’s blogs, or the Drudge Report, you get many updates each day on both the minutiae and the detritus of the hour. (Or you could use the analogy of The New Yorker vs. Huffington Post, or Harper’s vs. USA Today Online, take your pick.)

Each week, I read hundreds of blog posts, dozens of NY Times articles, check in at CNN.com scores of time. For local news I read the Grand Forks Herald and Kittson County Enterprise. Most weeks I’ll also read Newsweek, Time, The Presbyterian Outlook, and The Christian Century. Of course, I’ll keep up on current events through Twitter links and RSS feeds. Oh, and then there’s the hours of NPR listening and a few other podcasts thrown in to boot. And so I wonder, how do my media choices affect my view of the world?

Part of me wants to experiment and, for a week or two, try to avoid anything current events related. I might not get bogged down each week in articles or issues that are more adiaphora than anything. I wouldn’t hear reports of Apple’s iPod event in real time, nor would I read dozens of perspectives on the Ground Zero Mosque (that isn’t a mosque or at ground zero, by the way). But, on the other hand, I do think all the little articles add up to a fuller picture of the world. Sure, I may read some details about how Sen. Murkowski lost the Alaska Republican primary that really don’t matter, but I might also get a glimpse of the sentiments that are driving the Minnesotans and North Dakotans with whom I interact on a daily basis.

Either way you live, though, Dawn’s larger point is the most important. Do you seek justice and love in all your interactions and in all world affairs? For Marva Dawn, it’s easier for her to do this faithfully without reading the daily newspaper. I don’t know if she would grant that it could be, for me, easier to be faithful while keeping up on current events. My takeaway is this: whether one reads TIME dead tree edition or checks RSS news feeds hourly, the lens with which you read and live in the world is key. Do you live with a lens for social justice or do you live with a lens for social stories gone wild?

image by Gerhard Höllisch

Today’s question: why do bees gather around the front of our car this time of year?

I’ll tackle this one in sections. First off, why this time of year? Well, late summer is the time queens leave the nest and mate (queen bees, that is). So all over Grand Forks you’ll see bees and wasps buzzing this time of year. Indeed, our favorite restaurant Rhombus Guys has a “sit on the roof at your own risk” type sign since there’s so many bees around these days — waiter Tony really enjoys killing them, though. Friends of ours who live downtown have a hole in the brick wall outside their window.  The sight is amazing: hundreds of bees buzzing in and out of the hole inches from their window.  There must be thousands in the wall. According to this article, they’re looking for mates and will seek out a wintering spot soon.

Ok, but why do bees hang near cars, and specifically, near the front of vehicles?  I’ll be honest, this is a tough one. Internet research — usually so reliable — brought up many possibilities and dead ends. I feel most confident, however, that the reason doesn’t have to do with sap or dead bugs or pollen. Instead, I’m convinced by a few who have said the reason bees gather near the front of vehicles this time of year is because they are drawn to the smell of anti-freeze.

The anti-freeze explanation convinces me, because you can walk down a parking lot with cars of various sap or pollen levels, clean cars and dirty, buggy grills and shinny ones, and bees don’t seem to consistently swarm at any one of these factors. However, they certainly are attracted to something about some of the vehicles, and I propose that something is the sweet smell of antifreeze, which comes especially from the cars that are warmer and have been driven more recently.

Do I have any inside info or significant knowledge to backup my assertion? Absolutely not. It’s a semi-educated guess, so if you want to burst my bubble and have a better idea, please let me know. Until then, however, I’ll call this one of life’s mysteries solved. Case closed, bee happy.

image by kd kelly

Aug. 29, 2010

Approaching Politics

Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16

Yesterday was the anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.’s historic “I Have a Dream” speech at the Lincoln Memorial. You may have noticed this anniversary more this year than some, because yesterday the conservative “entertainer educator” Glenn Beck held a rally at the Lincoln Memorial. The liberal Rev. Al Sharpton held a protest rally nearby. Sarah Palin spoke at Beck’s rally. Jim Wallis spoke at Sharpton’s. You can watch the news for the details, but let’s just say the dueling rallies led more to creative finger pointing than friendly hand holding.

To mark the “I Have a Dream” anniversary, National Public Radio’s “Talk of the Nation” hosted a show on King this week. As usual, the show included several guests, scholars and admirers of King’s work. But the experts disagreed. Now this is NPR so they did so respectfully without any yelling, but their disagreements were pretty significant.

An African-American pastor and writer for a conservative/libertarian magazine argued that if Martin Luther King Jr. were alive today he would surely be a social conservative and bemoan the decline of family values.

A few minutes later, another expert said he wasn’t so sure about that, and spoke of King as a traditionalist rather than a conservative — he was always going back to the Bible and the constitution, but he did so with the question, “What are the implications of this today?” King went to the tradition, but he always assumed that the best hopes of Thomas Jefferson or the Biblical prophets had not yet be realized.

As if that weren’t enough, another expert said that King was far from a cultural conservative, noting that by 1967-68 King held extreme views against the war in Vietnam and emphasized the injustice of poverty in America. In fact, King even critiqued capitalism as leaving too far a gulf between the wealth of some and the abject poverty of others.

So there were three experts with three different political agendas and three different readings of Martin Luther King Jr.

The “I Have a Dream” anniversary is not the only recent political controversy, of course. Last week several national polls showed that less than half of Americans can correctly identify President Obama as a Christian, and nearly a quarter of Americans think Obama is Muslim. Of course, the subsequent news stories on the poll results (and the strange commentators many news shows booked to speak on the topic) muddied the issue further. So much confusion about Obama’s faith existed, in fact, that a wide array of conservative, moderate, and liberal church leaders — including those of the PC(USA) — signed a public letter last week to affirm President Obama’s Christian faith.

The letter reads, in part,

“President Obama has been unwavering in confessing Christ as Lord and has spoken often about the importance of his Christian faith. Many of the signees on this letter have prayed and worshipped with this President. We believe that questioning, and especially misrepresenting, the faith of a confessing believer goes too far.”

There’s been one more big religion-related political ruckus in recent weeks, the — depending what you call it — Cordoba House or the mosque a few blocks from ground zero in New York. Originally, the project which is more like a YMCA community center with an Islamic prayer room than a dedicated mosque, had broad support. But, once we got closer to election season, the project became a classic wedge issue.

Ok, that’s enough of politics for a few minutes. You can stop squirming for now. Even mentioning political issues in mixed company can be uncomfortable for some. So why bring up these political and controversial issues in church…and in worship no less? Certainly many Christians strongly believe politics should not be mentioned from the pulpit in any way shape or form. If that’s you, don’t worry, I don’t plan on crossing any lines today.

I don’t think preachers should ever preach about which candidate to vote for, or endorse one party or another. Good Christians will disagree, and the pulpit is not the place for political pandering. But here’s the thing, I just couldn’t see any way to closely read Hebrews 13 this week, and avoid the context of last week’s political issues.

Now the writer of Hebrews doesn’t say whom to vote for in the Minnesota governor race — thank goodness for that — but this passage from Hebrews is all about politics, that is, the way people live together, how they treat one another, and how they deal with authority. The writer of Hebrews gives his church advice for living together, instructions that extend to every aspect of life, from home life to church life to community and political life.

First of all, the writer of Hebrews says, “Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing so some have entertained angels without knowing it.” The word we translate to “mutual love” in Greek is philadelphia, the root word of the City of Brotherly Love. The writer of Hebrews couldn’t anticipate our political climate today, but I don’t see him backing down from his instructions in the midst of a political season.

In fact, the next sentence emphasizes how extreme his instructions are: “show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some of us have entertained angels without even knowing.” Those angels you don’t know about might even be the hardest ones to love — God is sneaky like that — those co-workers that grate you the wrong way, that neighbor with whom you deeply disagree, that family member you try to avoid. The force of the passage is, “treat others as if you were in their shoes.”

And, as many times as we read this passage, we don’t find an escape clause for political interactions. Seems like God wants us to approach politics the same way we approach the rest of life. That means loving those with whom we disagree. That means trying to see Jesus in one another. And that means speaking the truth.

Near the end of the 2008 presidential campaign, Sen. John McCain took a question from an elderly woman at a town hall meeting who spoke against then Sen. Obama. The woman said, “I’ve read about him, and he’s not — he’s an Arab” and before she could say anything more offensive, McCain grabbed the microphone back and responded with what you might call “mutual love.” “No ma’am, [Obama’s] a decent family man, a citizen that I just happen to have disagreements with…” That’s a kind of hospitality or mutual love (whether in politics or not).

Ok, let’s move on see if we can get less political. I don’t want things to get too out of hand. Hebrews says next, “Let marriage be held in honor by all, and let the marriage bed be kept undefiled; for God will judge the fornicators and adulterers.” Wow, ok, well maybe Hebrews just has it in for us — even and especially marriage is a political issue these days.

When you think about it, it makes sense the writer would stay political. The writer first says how we love our neighbors, and then goes on to say that how we love our sexual partners also reflects God love for us.

Now let’s be open and honest here: good Christians interpret this marriage verse very differently. Some say it clearly means we should not allow gay marriage, certainly not in the church. But others say the writers of Hebrews just didn’t know about homosexuality as we understand it today, and if he did, he’d realize the only way for gay Christians to honor their sacred love for one another is for the church to bless their partnership. I don’t think we’ll ever figure out Hebrews’ official position re Proposition 18 in California, but a more general approach seems clear: Hebrews calls us to come at the discussion of marriage and love from a faith perspective, holding mutual love for one another and God as the goal.

Ok, the writer of the Hebrews addresses politics, and sex, the only thing left for the extra-uncomfortable trifecta is….money. And, I’m not making this up, that’s next.

“Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have; for [God] has said, ‘I will never leave you or forsake you.’”

Don’t love money. Simple enough. Did you catch the progression? The writer started this chapter with mutual love. Then the writer said, loving one another leads to respecting all people in the community, and that includes loving respectfully in sexual relationships. And next, if we’re loving right, no love of money gets in the way of loving others and loving God.

With all the messages we get from society on money and wealth, it’s hard not to succumb to its power. (In fact Session addressed money at our meeting last week, since as sometimes happens in the summer, our church checkbook balance is getting a little low.) But, for us as a church, and for families and individuals, the point is clear: misplaced love of money and wealth isn’t faithful, it’s an idol we must avoid.

So what’s the point of the Hebrews’ writer’s political meddling? Why ruffle feathers and make folks uncomfortable? It turns out, that it all has to do with Jesus Christ. That’s how the reading finishes.

Because of Jesus Christ, he says, “let us continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God.” Because of Jesus Christ, he says, let us not neglect to do good and to share what we have. Because of of Jesus Christ, he says, those of us who confess his name approach the world prioritizing not political parties or money, not sexual thrills or keeping comfortable. Those of us who confess Jesus Christ approach the world prioritizing love, for Christ loves us and we love others in return.

That’s the approach of the writer of Hebrews — to politics, to community, to life. Love will get political. Love will make us uncomfortable. Love, though — Jesus’ love, is one platform we all should support.

The novel follows Kate Riley, a youngish popular religion professor and a liberal arts college in a small midwestern town. Kate’s career is coming along swimmingly — she’s published two book and a year away from tenure — when Kate faces unexpected challenges from several angles. From one corner, her recent book on Jesus’ birth narratives in the Gospels makes her a punching bag of the religious right. From the other, those in the secular academy feel her work is becoming too popular. As Kate fends off attacks from the religious right and secular left, she receives a surprise letter asking her to apply for a yearlong teaching appointment at an Episcopal seminary.  Her inner struggle deepens — should she apply for the position? Would she enjoy teaching in a Christian setting? Where is God calling her? Are her choices motivated by fear or faith?

That’s the story, but the function of the novel is to teach. Through Kate’s lectures and her encounters with students and professors, the reader engages significant questions about the nature of faith, how to read the Bible, the historical Jesus, the morality of homosexuality, and the study and practice of religion. The reader also enjoys a view of Kate’s own faith, her journey to become a liberal Episcopalian, and the challenge of discerning her vocation.

If you’re looking for a natural novel, this is not it. The book feels even more staged than Brian McLaren’s didactic novels in the A New Kind of Christian trilogy. But even so, I enjoyed Borg’s work more. Borg’s character development is richer, and besides a few loose ends (and some pretty awful dialog), the story is plenty believable. So much so, in fact, that one wise professor character sounds remarkably like Borg himself (he’s a fiction writing rookie so we can cut him some slack). And, ok, I loved the positive mention of midwestern Lutheran college choirs — Borg, himself, is a Concordia College grad but I’ve had lunch with him at St. Olaf, so surely he’s seen the light.

Not too many bestselling authors grew up in North Dakota (purely because of the small population, mind you). But Borg did, so when I received my review copy, I was a bit biased towards giving Putting Away Childish Things a favorable review. But, truly, it’s a good read and a helpful one. If I were teaching an introduction to Christianity class or an adult confirmation course, it might be my primary text. The novel won’t win any awards for literature, but it’s not really trying to either. Instead, Borg uses the novel form to do what religion professors do — teach about religion — and I’m glad he accomplishes this task so well.

At some point along the way (in elementary school, I hope) I remember having a breakdown and complaining to my parents in no uncertain terms that I no longer wanted to go to school. I figured I would be just fine sitting at home reading books and researching on the computer. I didn’t want to deal with the challenges of actually going to school. I think my repeated response to my parents’ pleas was the ever-so-popular childish response, “But, why?”

My parents, in their very patient ways, explained the importance of what I would experience at school – the learning, the relationships, the personal growth – and then my dad said something that’s stuck with me. “School is sort of like your job,” he said, “I go to work every day, and you go to school. It’s where you’re supposed to be.” Dad didn’t quite use theological language, but he was getting at the notion of one’s calling, one’s vocation. My elementary-aged calling was to go to school and learn. It’s what society expected I do, but it was also what I could do to serve God best as well.

John Calvin, the father of Presbyterian theology, was a master intellect (and had a profound sense of spirituality). Calvin emphasized the importance of knowledge of the world, but always with the reminder, “that the knowledge of all that is most excellent in human life is said to be communicated to us through the Spirit of God.” Knowledge is a gift from God, just like school. So kids, parents and grandparents, learners everywhere, study away. It’s God’s gift. And as the poem below suggests, keep your eyes open for you might even see God.

Paradise High
by Marcus Goodyear

God slouches at the front of the universe
leaning against his desk, taking roll
with a red pen in his spiral book of life.
He teaches every subject himself,
every grade, every student. He leads
every parent conference appearing
as principal, department head, counselor,
and teacher. At night he walks the halls
alone with a broom and a trash can.
He’s not too grand to pick up
the wad of gum some kid mashed
onto a door frame. He’s not above
using divine elbow grease to scrub
away bathroom graffiti. Sometimes
he finds drawings of himself
cross-eyed with a caption,
“What a dork!” the picture of a fool.
But every morning he’s back
in the cafeteria, handing out
his own body for breakfast
with a pint of 2% milk—
or chocolate if you like.
He wears a Padres ball cap
to keep God hairs out of the food.
He runs the register, too,
though he never makes us pay.
“I’ll get this one,” he says—
and every time we wonder why
there’s a register at all? Why receipts?
When the bells ring, students rush to class
past God the hall monitor into the room
of Mr. God, the teacher. He greets us
by name wherever we are.
But only in his room do we find
a seat while he watches. God’s voice
crackles and pops over the PA
during announcements while God
lines up the hooligans in the hall
to assign tardy detentions.
I hold my breath when God walks
the aisles in his classroom collecting
our English themes like prayers.
Dear God, I pray, I pass.

To read more of Marcus Goodyear’s poems, see his new collection Barbies at communion. Image by Gabriella Fabbri.

Yesterday, a Sunday morning Twitter exchange with a few pastors got me thinking about my children’s sermon approach, and how it differs from many of my colleagues. For example, when I saw this site and the idea of teaching about the bentover woman in Luke 13 with a bent spoon, I laughed out lout and closed my browser tab immediately.  Later, when I had time to reflect, I found some redeeming qualities to the suggestion, but the bent spoon as an object lesson still puts me off (as if osteoporosis is anything like a bad ice cream scoop — that’s insulting both to our adults with bad backs and to our children’s intelligence!).  So, here’s a few of my children’s sermons DOs and Don’ts:

DO:

• My main resource is usually the Bible, usually a story (I say more here ). I don’t tend to tell moralistic stories from life – there’s plenty of time for those outside of worship.  Non narrative scripture lessons can work too, but narrative is probably better.
• Teach about worship, liturgy, our worship space, traditions, etc. For example, our congregation often sings the psalm appointed for the day, but rarely did so before I was pastor. So, as we began this practice, the children and I talked about singing psalms, and where we could find them in the Bible.
• One point. One point. One point. I try to make one point and stick to it.
• I’ve found that hand motions and using our bodies together works very well – I thought a very effective children’s sermon took place when the reading was on a version of the Lord’s Prayer, so I taught hand motions to the prayer and everyone – children and older folks – prayed it together with the motions.

DON’T

• I don’t use myself as an example except to connect with the children (and not to connect or get a laugh from the non-children congregants).
• I don’t usually use an object in my children’s sermons. If I do, it’s often a picture and very tied to the point of the children’s sermon rather than a traditional “object lesson.” It’s not that I hate objects (though Calvin did call most of them “idols,”) rather what I understand about children’s learning development is that most of the kids who come up for our children’s sermon can’t yet make the intellectual leap from an object to a point loosely tied to the object — “This chocolate is sweet, just like God is sweet to us” or anything like that. If it doesn’t connect very clearly, I don’t use it.
• I don’t view the children’s sermon as entertainment for the congregation, so I don’t try to get the children to say funny things the congregation will enjoy; I keep open-ended questions to a minimum.  Besides missing the point of worship, laughing at the children makes them objects that entertain rather than fellow worshipers. Objectification in worship is never good.
• I don’t feel I must connect the children’s sermon point to the longer sermon later, or even use the same text. Sometimes a children’s sermon is a good way to teach a lectionary text not used otherwise.

I’d love to hear your thoughts. I’m certainly not a gifted children’s sermonizer, and I’m always looking to learn more. For example, last time I posted on children’s sermons, someone commented about a UMC church she knew where the children’s sermon happened on a special rug unrolled for the occasion, on which the kids and a pastor huddle. But that pastor doesn’t have a microphone, and another pastor with a microphone shares announcements from the pulpit while the children quietly huddle around the other pastor. Everyone worships, but the children aren’t made the center of it. Sounds heavenly to me.

image by Flavio Takemoto

A Pew research poll yesterday found that only 34% of Americans can correctly identify President Obama as a Christian. This number is down 17 percentage points from those who identified his Christian faith correctly during the 2008 campaign (apparently folks are forgetful about their leader’s faith?). 24% of Americans incorrectly believe Obama is Muslim. (And the Pew poll was conducted before Obama weighed in on the Park51/Cordoba House project question.  Here is a similar TIME poll.)

Before I go further, let me follow Amy Sullivan’s lead (here) and note what must be said at this point. Sullivan writes:

Let me pause for a moment here to say that it is of course not a smear to call someone a Muslim. It is, however, obnoxious to say someone is a member of a religious faith when he’s not–and to insist that he is not a member of the tradition he does claim. It would also be foolish and naive to pretend that conservatives who call Obama a Muslim are doing it in a neutral way and that their intention is not to raise questions about his “otherness.”

By the way, for those who actually want to think deeply on Obama’s faith, pick up a copy of The Faith of Barack Obama by Stephen Mansfield.   But here’s what this outrageous poll data causes me to ponder:

First, I’m struck by the fact that though I interact with hundreds of people personally and professionally, I’d be hard-pressed to name more than a handful who might believe President Obama is Muslim. But, according to the poll, 1 in 4 Americans believe so. This reminds me of my sheltered nature, of the cliquishness of American life, and my self-selected friends and relations. Additionally, since Obama’s faith practically never comes up in regular conversation, I wonder if perhaps I’m just way off presuming my friends and relations have accurate understandings of Obama’s faith.

Second, who knows how really to delve into such things via a poll, but I wonder how much the faith poll numbers would correspond to more overt racism if pollsters asked the right question. My guess is that many of those who believe Obama is Muslim might also be very uncomfortable with those of other faiths and those of other skin colors in general.  (For example, the TIME poll finds, “Nearly one-third of the country thinks adherents of Islam should be barred from running for President.”)  Perhaps it’s the case that maligning Islam is somehow culturally okay, while overtly using racial epithets crosses a time-honored line.

Finally, I profoundly disagree with Sullivan’s statement in her analysis that, “In a perfect world, nobody would give a hoot whether the president went to church or said grace before meals or ever uttered one word publicly about his religious beliefs.” Religious belief is hugely important to me, as is any moral underpinnings or claims about the end times, or belief in divine interventionism, or God’s loving nature, or God’s non-existence, etc.. I will happily vote for candidates of many religious faiths (or none), but I will always seek to do so considering a candidate’s faith, thoughtfulness, and positions on the issues. I appreciate Sullivan’s reporting, but I’ll go to my grave professing that faith matters matter. And that’s what’s awesome about the US and the First Amendment — and very scary about this poll data.

Update: Amy Sullivan reflects a bit more on 8/20/10 in “Are One-Quarter of Americans Freakin’ Morons”

Creative Commons image by Alex Johnson

No, it’s not that I think the Grand Forks Herald is a particularly stellar paper, anything but that. I do think it’s unfortunate, however, that subscribing to a local newspaper has become anathema to twenty-somethings. So much so, in fact, that I’m finding my usually optimistic perspective challenged by my peers’ reading habits, or lack their of.

To put it in a phrase: I read the local paper to better understand my neighbors. For me, it’s a question of ethics and ideas.  And despite the helpful use of Twitter and blogs, in this town of 50,000 there’s no better way to follow local happenings than the newspaper. From letters to the editors to school board meeting reports, from traffic ticket statistics to mosquito spraying schedules, from stories of local movers-and-shakers to those on a small disc golf tournament nearby, the paper informs me of local goings-on and local perspectives in ways unparalleled by other media.

Maybe if I worked at a big office the local gossip I might pick up there would suffice. Or maybe if I listened to North Dakota radio stations or watched the TV news I could live without my paper.  Maybe if I lived in a larger news market, I wouldn’t need the newspaper.  But as my life is, were I to cancel my subscription I feel confident I would become a poorer citizen and pastor.

For example, earlier in the summer I voted in local elections of which I wouldn’t have known were I not following the candidate profiles and studying the sample ballot in the paper. Similarly, this week’s Forum Communications series, “Running with Oil” on the North Dakota oil boom is fantastically informative on a state issue (out west, mostly) I could easily overlook otherwise.

Let me be clear, I’m not exactly praising the quality of the paper, bless its heart. The website is horrendous, partly making the dead tree edition so superior. The local stories are fine, but certainly often of questionable quality and the coverage beyond local and state issues is paltry. Most editorials are too mainline, non-confrontational, and safe. I’m not praising the Grand Forks Herald for Pulitzer quality work, I’m praising them for a product that gets the job done — informing me of local happenings, keeping local politicians on their toes, shining the light of scrutiny where their resources can manage.

When I was in college at St. Olaf, the student government funded a program that put racks of free newspapers in every dorm and student hangout area — the Minneapolis Star-Tribune, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal, if my memory serves me. You’d see college students hanging out waiting for friends while reading up on the news. It was a beautiful site. Surely many college students today read their national and international news, like me, online and through internet-based news aggregators. But nothing beats that dead tree at my doorstep each morning, informing me which roads are closed on my morning commute.

image by Kay Pat

Luke 13:10-17

Another Perspective

Like Luke said, I’m the leader of the synagogue, have been for years now. I teach there every sabbath — done it all my working life. It took me twenty years to work up to the top manager position. (There’s no “owner” after all, except God.) I’m the leader of this synagogue, esteemed by my colleagues, respected in the community. I teach in the synagogue on the sabbath because, well, God has called me to teach and the community concurs. I’ve earned my good reputation over many years of dedicated hard work. I don’t appreciate rabble-rousing. I run a tight ship in my synagogue, no young upstarts allowed, no funny business. We teach God’s law — it’s as simple as that.

So when this Jesus of Nazareth character starts teaching in my synagogue, sure, I kept an ear to the ground. I mean, we have guest teachers from time to time — that’s ok. You know as well as I do how hard it is to fill-out those volunteer rosters sometimes. Guest teachers are one thing though, this Jesus guy is something else. We don’t let just anyone teach in the synagogue. We watch what they say. We have standards — God’s standards. We don’t want anyone contradicting God’s word. Our father Moses knew what he was up to; the holy prophets can’t be disrespected.

Everything was going fine that sabbath day, fine until Jesus got up on his high horse and healed that woman. The audacity! The immorality! I still can’t believe that blatant law-breaking happened here, in my temple!

So he was there — over in that corner — teaching as Jesus is apt to do. I don’t remember what he was saying exactly, but he met eyes with this woman (she’s sort of a shady character actually, you know what they say about her Dad and old Ms. Doyle). So Jesus looked her in the eye, and you could see this spark go off in that sinful mind of his. Jesus called her over to him and said something like, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” And he touched her! I still can’t get over that part! Clear as day: no morals at all.

Can you believe this guy? What am I saying, I know you can’t. You know as well as me: Jesus is unbelievable, rude beyond any rudeness. He caused shame upon my leadership and all who call this temple home.

I mean, sure, this woman was ill — she was really bent over, stooped down almost ninety degrees and couldn’t straighten her back. But, I mean, she was always like that. That’s how God made her. They say it was eighteen years she’s been stooped. Eighteen years and nobody made a fuss. Why, God, why did you have to let Jesus’ sin ruin our temple?

I mean, she didn’t, after all, ask Jesus to heal her. What was the rush? What was the fuss? Why did he pick her? Why did he pick here? Who does Jesus think he is destroying our reputation like that?

Surely you noticed: the woman didn’t even confess her faith in God. Who knows what sin she or her parents committed to make her back bent like that. Who knows what she really believed or if she followed the law. These young bucks like Jesus are always about speed and never about safety. You know the type: young people rushing ahead without thinking things through, acting on impulse, disrespecting their elders, not bothering to consider the consequences of their actions. Young folks, these days.

Sure, I got mad. I admit it. Maybe a little too angry, now that I look back on things. But let’s be clear here: Jesus healed on the sabbath. Jesus committed a sin, plain and simple. We’ve had the commandments for hundreds of years. God Godself took a rest on the seventh day after making creation (read it yourself in Genesis 2). And in Deuteronomy 5 the Sabbath commandment is as plain as plain can be. Observe the sabbath day, God says, and keep it holy. God delivered us from slavery in Egypt. God’s faithfulness passes all human understanding. The least of which we can do, to thank God, to praise God in return, is to follow the straightforward plain-and-simple commandments God gives. This isn’t fire-powered-chariot science. It’s God’s law.

If you ask me, it comes down to this: do you accept the Bible or not. I mean, it’s there in clear black and white: honor the sabbath and keep it holy. What’s unclear about that? I know it’s the cool thing, these days, to wiggle out of God’s commandments — taking the Bible seriously, but not literally, they say. Yeah, some people say God didn’t specifically address how to honor the sabbath, so we’ve got to use our brains to figure things out. Some people talk about the “law of love” and how we’ve got to use that whenever we read the Bible. Some people say their experience of God’s goodness expands their understanding of scripture beyond the supposedly “narrow view” of others.

But I say that’s a slippery slope. As soon as you let people heal on the sabbath, they are going to throw out the baby with the bathwater and forget the other nine commandments.

There it is. In this Bible right here. Plain as day. Observe the sabbath and keep it holy. But people want to sneak out of God’s justice, making exceptions for themselves or their friends. Can’t you see? Jesus is leading you astray. Jesus is trying to get you to add to the Bible, to follow whatever feels good. Jesus is trying to turn this society upside-down and I won’t allow it. God gave us the rules in the Bible, and that’s that.

I know Jesus argued with me. He’s sneaky like that, asking for public debates and all. He’s just such a celebrity and I’m just an old leader of a synagogue. (Let’s be honest, this is a PR nightmare for me and the board.) Sure, Jesus convinced the crowds this time, using that weak argument about how since it’s ok to untie our animals on the sabbath, it’s ok to unbind this lady from her disease. He may have won the battle, but I’ll win the war. I mean, think what horrible things could happen if Jesus gets his way.

What if people keep following Jesus and reinterpreting the scriptures? What if people listen to his crazy instructions and turn the world upside down — that “blessed are the merciful” or “blessed are the persecuted” stuff. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: it’s God’s business who God forgives, and a life following God leads to blessing, not hardship or persecution. What if people stop listening to the religious authorities and start taking their faith in their own hands?

Oh. Oh my goodness. I can’t bear to think about it. What if people start believing Jesus is the Messiah? What if — no, it couldn’t happen — what if…what if… they call him Lord? ….what would happen then?