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RunRevRun: Keeping Fit, Keeping Faith

Posted on April 10, 2011 by Adam J. Copeland

A cool new website launched last week, RunRevRun.net. For some time pastors have used the hashtag #runrevrun on Twitter to comment on running, health, and exercise. Thanks to my buddy Adam Walker Cleaveland and some friends, #RunRevRun now has its own website.

When I began seminary, I hated running. Though I had grown up watching my father, a pastor, run several times a week I never took to it myself. In fact, running was definitely the part of my high school soccer training that I disliked the most. In seminary, after some cajoling (and on a night when certain beverages had been consumed), I did agree to join a group of friends on the Cooper River Bridge 10K during my second year of seminary. That 6.2 miles was the longest I had run, and though it was tough it wasn’t totally unenjoyable. We did the Hal Higdon beginner 10K training program together (which I recommend), and I definitely relished in the communal aspect of the training.

After surviving the 10K, I put my running shoes in the back of the closet. I was happy enough saying, “I ran a 10K” but I also was pretty certain running was not for me. I would not be a “running Rev.” Or so I thought.

Then I went on my yearlong internship as an Assistant Minister at a church in Scotland. I got into the regular schedule of a pastor — including the easy eating habits of cookies in people’s houses and quick not-so-healthy suppers before meetings — and, well, I got into the worst physical shape of my life. After only nine months of so of pastoral internship, I had put on more than ten pounds and just didn’t feel very fit at all. And so, I did the only thing I knew to do: I started running again.

I didn’t run any races in Scotland, but when I got back to the states I checked out the Atlanta race schedule and found dozens of options. A ran a few more 10Ks and eventually several half marathons and a marathon. After a year or so, I found I actually enjoyed running. I felt healthier because of it, more in touch with my body, even more connected to God.

I won’t bore you with any more running exploits in this post. (In fact, I don’t blog on running all that much actually.) But I do really recommend the RunRevRun.net site. Check it out, and “like” us on Facebook too. It looks to be a great community, and if you’d like to submit a post, there’s even a Contact option in the About section. RunRevRun: Keeping Fit, Keeping Faith!

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What makes Christian community?

Posted on April 6, 2011 by Adam J. Copeland

Originally posted at Gathering Voices from TheThoughtfulChristian.com

On my first day as a parish pastor, I came into the church office and the secretary causally mentioned, “a few people might come by for coffee later.” Well, a few people turned out to be half the church! We moved to the fellowship hall after a while and chatted over coffee — oh, and there were dozens of tasty home-baked snacks too.

Starting a new position as a pastor is funny. You have boxes to unpack and pictures to hang, but mostly you have people to meet. Who’s sick at the moment? Who are the movers and shakers in your congregation? Who is grieving? You don’t know where people live or who’s related to whom, but you know you need to meet them.

And then there’s always that first pesky worship service to plan and sermon to write.

Screen shot 2011-04-04 at 10.22.46 PMThis week I started a different sort of call as mission developer for The Project F-M, a new vision and venture for a 21st century faith community in Fargo-Moorhead. Nobody has stopped by the office this week. Nobody has made muffins. And, in what feels like a very strange personal turn-of-events, I don’t even have a worship service to plan or sermon to write.

But, my instincts tells me, the same basic idea applies no matter how established (or un-established) the faith community is: build relationships, foster community.

How about this for a contrast? When I arrived, the 125 year-old rural congregation I served had an inactive Facebook page with two dozen people. The emerging faith community I just began with already has a Facebook page with over 250 people. So, instead of visiting hospital rooms, I’ve found myself visiting Facebook pages and Twitter accounts. Instead of making another pot of coffee for the fellowship hall, I check out a new coffee shop (all of which boast wireless Internet, of course).

One of the questions I can already see our group asking a lot in the coming months is: what is a faith community? I’ve been intrigued this week by something Peter Rollins, a leader in the emergent church in England, said of the faith collective he helped form,

[We don’t call it a “community”] because as soon as you say that word all of the people who need community come out—the group turns incredibly needy, and suddenly the whole thing is on its way to vanishing. The best way to forge community is not to call it a community. We call Ikon a collective, a gathering or a crowd. People naturally make connections, and community happens.

Community happens, except when you call it “community.”

On Monday, NPR’s Talk of the Nation welcomed Elijah Anderson, a sociologist who has published a book on spaces that allow a place for people to let their guard down and naturally feel comfortable enough to interact with strangers. Anderson calls these places “canopies.” For example, think Reading Terminal in Philadelphia, or old-fashioned barber shop, or a communal table at a coffee shop, or the feeling a whole town gets when they are united by a local team winning a national sports championship. These canopies, Anderson writes, are places where racial barriers and prejudices momentarily lift and a new type of community is enjoyed if ever so briefly.

To this pastor, Anderson’s description of the cosmopolitan canopy sounds a lot like the kingdom of God — or at least it’s a glimpse into a new vision of Spiritual friendship, one that connects folks in a heightened sense of community.

In his play, “The Rock” T.S. Elliot asks, “What life have you if you have not life together?” Indeed. So how do established churches — and emerging faith communities — best connect those lives? How do we build new communities of faith that might, just might, give us a glimpse of the kindgom of God?

image by Stephanie Hofschlaeger

Additional Resources from www.TheThoughtfulChristian.com

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A Quick Gender Analysis of President Obama’s Libya Speech

Posted on April 4, 2011 by Adam J. Copeland

This post was supposed to be on President’s Obama lack of inclusive language in his Libya speech last week. After many years of President Bush using “man” to mean “human” and “mankind” to supposedly include women, I had become sick and tired of hearing such male-dominated rhetoric from presidents. So, after I heard President Obama using several similar phrases last week, I planned to write a post complaining about Obama’s continuation of Bush’s exclusivity. As I looked into the matter more carefully, however, I found that perhaps I was oversensitive. In fact, President Obama’s Libya speech included fairly consistent inclusive language, only straying on two occasions.

The speech begins by thanking our “men and women in uniform.” Obama used this inclusive phrase three times. Though it could be argued that the “in uniform” descriptor tends to dehumanize the soldiers — emphasizing the uniformity of their clothing rather than their humanity — I’ll take the “and women” part for certain. Thanks, Mr. President.

Next, Obama used “human” instead of “man” several times. For instance, the phrase “our responsibilities to our fellow human beings” could easily have ended with “fellow man.” But it didn’t. Similarly he refrained from including “all men” in the following construction, “challenges that threaten our common humanity and our common security.”

But there were a few slip-ups, some more justifiable than others. First, Obama used the historic “airmen” and “Coast Guardsmen” appellations several times. I get it — just like the word “freshman” for college first-years — the habit of using old important phrases that were once accurate is a difficult habit to break. Perhaps I should cut the president some slack on this one. Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all. 20% of the military is made up of women, but they don’t fly combat missions. OK, point taken — but I still think there’s room for improvement next time, Mr. President. Repeat after me: “Guardsmen, Guardswomen….”

The only inclusive language stunner came in the speech’s final moments. Obama said, “We have [protected people] because we know that our own future is safer, our own future is brighter, if more of mankind can live with the bright light of freedom and dignity.”

On a final reading, this is the only egregious non-inclusive phrase I can find (by quickly scanning and searching, at least). In fact, it’s sort of hard to figure why, after so many times using careful inclusive language, he slips into “mankind” instead of “humankind” at the close. Was he just getting tired? Did he intentionally leave it in to keep people like me on their toes? Did he mean to appeal to some old-fashioned voters — or just sound presidential? Who knows.

So it turns out I should not have been so quick to judge. While leaving room for improvement, Obama’s inclusivity should be noted and appreciated (to say nothing of the fine speech as a whole). So I’ll give the guy his due. Thanks, Mr. President, you sure know when to man-up.

image by Edwin Pijpe

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Review: Exodus from Hunger

Posted on March 30, 2011 by Adam J. Copeland

Originally posted at Gathering Voices: Faith Conversations from TheThoughtfulChristian.com

It seems to be in the headlines every week in Minnesota — “Homelessness Numbers Rise,” “Food Pantries Struggle to Keep up With Demand,” “Income Gap Widens” — our world, and our nation, is hungry. I know this. But, at the same time, the problem is so overwhelming and wide-reaching that it paralyzes me.

When I consider hunger in America, I think back to a youth group activity many years ago for which we were split into different small groups. Each group was to buy and then make an evening meal. The catch: we had a day’s worth of food stamps from which to do it (or something like that, at least). So we went out to the store and found, very quickly, how difficult it is to live on food stamps alone. Nobody went home from that youth group session very full, but we learned a lesson.

Similarly, a few years ago the Michigan and Oregon governors lived for a time on the equivalent to their state’s food stamp aid. In Minnesota, there’s currently a debate raging about whether residents on public assistance should be able to access more then $20 in cash each month.

With this background in mind, I read David Beckmann’s Exodus from Hunger: We Are Called to Change the Politics of Hunger. It’s a good book, helping put the hunger fight in context, both in the U.S and beyond. Beckmann has made a career out of this struggle, and I most appreciated his perspective as a person of faith. The premise of the book is summed up in this word from the introduction:

I’m convinced that the binding constraint [for hunger reduction] is political will, and that stronger leadership from the U.S. government is crucial. I’m also convinced that God is present in this struggle, and that people of faith and conscience should do our part, partly by changing U.S. politics on hunger and poverty issues.

Please don’t put this book down without deciding to do something to help build a stronger political constituency for U.S. policies to provide help and opportunity for hungry and poor people.

Beckmann serves as president of Bread for the World, “a collective Christian voice urging our nation’s leaders to end hunger in our country and the world.” The book is sort of an overview of Bread for the World’s mission, an extended explanation of our current crisis and a work of passionate hope for how we might address it politically.

The book is in three parts. Part one addresses the present crisis with helpful charts and more personal vignettes. Part two hits the faith angle, arguing that caring for the hungry is both a Biblical mandate and would be a boon to America. The third part is a rallying cry for forward movement.

Perhaps my favorite quote from the work comes from British Prime Minister, David Cameron: “Poverty is not acceptable in our country today. Not when we have people who earn more in a lunchtime than millions will earn in a lifetime, not when we understand so clearly how wealth is created and poverty eradicated.” I also especially appreciated Beckmann’s close connection of our call to eradicate hunger as a call from God.

Most of my experience with Bread for the World (beside hanging out with a friend who works there) is participating in their letter writing campaigns to elected officials, what they call “An Offering of Letters.” I’ve also used them to follow hunger-related legislation through the legislative process. I definitely have some friends who scoff at these letter writing campaigns, so let me be clear (and also remind myself): it’s a false choice between either writing legislators and volunteering at food pantries, and it’s most certainly the case that legislators listen to careful cries for hunger-related justice.

So, if you’re feeling overwhelmed with hunger and poverty headlines, or if you just wish to understand the situation surrounding the politics of hunger more clearly, pick up a copy of Exodus from Hunger and feed your soul.

See also: A Study Guide on Exodus from Hunger (written, in fact, by a good friend of mine).

______________________________________________

Purchase @ www.TheThoughtfulChristian.com

Exodus from Hunger
By David Beckmann
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Review: This Odd and Wondrous Calling

Posted on March 28, 2011 by Adam J. Copeland

Most books, I read neither slow nor fast, enjoying the journey but anticipating the end without any remorse. Other books, I fly through, captivated by an adventuresome story or thrilling new ideas. This Odd and Wondrous Calling: The Public and Private Lives of Two Ministers, however, I read slowly, savoring each word, taking long breaks between chapters to rest in the experience. But, strangely, when I finally finished, I felt underwhelmed with the work as a whole. The journey was in luxury class, but the destination somehow failed to impress.

Most likely, the fault is more mine than the authors, for Martin B. Copenhaver and Lillian Daniel write a fine essay, tell a good joke, and reflect with the best of them. Both ministers in the United Church of Christ – Lillian Daniel of the younger female variety, Martin Copenhaver of the more-seasoned male type – the two authors string together twenty-eight essays reflecting on pastoral ministry. As a primer on the complexities, joys, and challenges of pastoral ministry, this book isby far the best I have come across. A how-to manual, it is not; a contemplative account of “the public and private lives” of two pastors, it most certainly is.

Most of essays read as reflections, careful considerations of the strange calling we pastors live into each day. For example, in the chapter entitled “Shaking Hands,” Copenhaver describes the gauntlet that a pastor faces when shaking hands at the church door following worship. After a thoroughly entertaining play-by-play of what goes through his head in those ninety seconds following worship, Copenhaver writes, “Through the years I have learned the historical and theological foundations of practically every word and gesture in the liturgy, but no one has ever explained to me why pastors stand in doorways and shake hands with worshipers following worship. I just know that you better do it.” So, Copenhaver reflects upon the ritual in which most every pastor participates each Sunday. The essay, which once appeared The Christian Century (as did others in the collection), is at the same time ruminative, fun, and helpful.

Each author surely could have published a book individually, but the collection stands better with its multiple perspectives. For instance, both Daniel and Copenhaver write of the experience of their spouses being the minister’s wife/husband, and their very different experiences remind the reader there is no one way to pastor (or be married to one). Similarly, Copenhaver writes of growing of as a “preacher’s kid” while Daniel writes of her journey from the Episcopal church of her youth to the UCC in which she currently serves. In, “I Was Looking for the Pastor, But You’ll Do” Daniel writes of her time trailblazing as the first female associate pastor at a church.

In a kind-spirited response to Barbara Brown Taylor’s book Leaving Church, Copenhaver closes the collection with “Staying in Church,” where he writes, “I also recognize that some of the reasons given for leaving are, with the slightest turn of the kaleidoscope, some of the same reasons I stay in pastoral ministry.” In fact, Copenhaver later takes on Taylor’s search for God in nature by writing that he prefers to search for God “among the quirky, flawed, and broken people” in the church.

If the chapters are knit closely together, it is by the common thread of tension that pastoral ministry provides. The authors take that thread and wrestle with it, enjoy it, ponder it until the tension eases and God’s peace remains. This is not to say the essays strive for a simple culmination, but that they tend to end closer to resolution than where they began. And that, I think, is what made me uncomfortable with the work as a whole.

At the end of the book, I wanted to ask the authors, “But what keeps you up at night? Don’t you ever just scream or lose your cool?” Even the stories of their mistakes end up leading to a pretty nugget of wisdom. Perhaps the fact that I’m a young pastor still working out the kinks of my call makes me a natural skeptic, but at times I wanted them simply to say, “Ok, we’ll be honest, this part of ministry isn’t a lesson, it’s just a liability.”

Even still, or perhaps because of this, the book is a wonder in itself. Beautifully written, thoughtfully put-together, honest and personal, I think this might just be the best reflection on pastoral ministry around. No matter how quickly you read it, it shouldn’t fail to entertain, even if it could leave you slightly uneasy.

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I’m no man for a “wife”

Posted on March 25, 2011 by Adam J. Copeland

Your bride. Your better half. Spouse. Old Lady. Other half. Wifey. Missus. Little woman. Ball and chain. Wife.

I have a confession: I dislike every phrase or word above when it’s used to describe the woman to whom I’m married. Some phrases I strongly dislike; others I approach with more mild distain. For going-on five years I’ve been married to Megan and I still don’t even like the word “wife” to describe her.

Be it an English language problem or just a personal issue, I just can’t stop myself from flinching when I use even the word “wife” or “spouse.” Most often these days, especially when writing, I use the word “partner,” but even that has its issues.

Though I’ve thought about it a lot, I’m not sure exactly why even the traditional and straightforward “wife” annoys me. Perhaps it’s that I don’t see Megan in that traditional role at all. Sure, there’s some wife/husband stereotypes present in our relationship — Megan buys more shoes than me (just barely), I’m the fix-it guy around the house (or, I call the real fix-it guy) — but there’s enough untraditional about our relationship that I still don’t like the phrase “wife” (Megan asked me to marry her, after all, and I do most of the housework). Perhaps, instead, it’s that I’m self-conscious about being seen by others in a conventional wife/husband relationship. Perhaps it’s just that the word “wife” has an ugly sound to it (like “moist,” “magma,” and “panties”).

Then there’s the LGBTQ rights angle. I’m certainly aware, when referring to anything about my marriage, that the same rights Megan and I enjoy are not afforded to people of the same gender. And that pains me deeply. So, a part of me wants to say, “Until all people have the right to marry the person whom they love, I’ll refrain from flaunting my marriage with the term ‘wife’.” I accept that that’s a pretty flimsy step towards justice, but for some at least, it’s a start.

Of my 20/30 something friends who’ve been married for a few years, most have come to use the words “wife” and “husband” without any bother. While it brought them up short early in their marriages, they have become accustomed. For some, they accept “wife” and “husband” as terms that needed a certain rehabilitation for them, but after some time, the job was done. I’m not immediately aware of any couples who totally avoid the words, but I may be forgetting some. In any case, it’s not many.

But here I am, going-on five years of marriage and still not comfortable with how to refer to the person to whom I’m married. A simple “Megan” works in many contexts. I think “partner” works alright sometimes, but using “partner” leads some people to believe we’re not actually married, just dating. An old minister professor of mine who was married to a pastor used to refer to his spouse as “my partner in life and ministry,” but that’s a mouthful and just weird. Alternatively, the phrase “life partner” just lacks the gravitas I’m looking for.

Maybe I just need to get over it. Maybe, after a few more years, I will. But, for now, that’s my confession: I’m no man for a “wife.”

 

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Jell-O Confessions

Posted on March 23, 2011 by Adam J. Copeland

Originally posted at Gathering Voices: Faith Conversations from TheThoughtfulChristian.com

Screen shot 2011-03-22 at 1.54.05 PMPastoral ministry is a funny thing. A few years ago, I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined myself pastor of a rural congregation 20 miles from Canada (I grew up in Florida!). But then we moved up here, I got connected to a great church, and now I really hate to leave. A number of circumstances conspired against me staying as long as we might have liked, and I preached my last sermon as pastor last Sunday. Transitions are tough. Goodbyes can be very sad.

It’s much too early to reflect fully on my ministry there, but it’s always the right time for bullet points. So, here’s my top twelve reflections on my first stab at pastoral ministry.

  1. mark the Bible readings carefully before you try to read them from the pulpit — lesson learned the hard way :)
  2. going the extra mile with pastoral care is always worth it
  3. Confirmation can be totally, completely, entirely, a rocking-fun experience. (We loved the re:form curriculum.)
  4. In Minnesota, when visiting someone in their home, you take your shoes off at the door. You do the same in Hawaii, but not Florida or Scotland.
  5. Breakfast at the Caribou Grill every wednesday nourishes much more than one’s body.
  6. More parishioners read your blog than you think.
  7. It’s really very hard to schedule time to read ministry books, magazines, and the like.
  8. Colleagues of one’s own denomination are fine, but ecuenical pastor colleagues from the local area are even better.
  9. You can put absolutely anything in a Jell-O salad. Anything.
  10. Many things run totally smoothly without the pastor doing a thing: e.g. Presbyterian Women, potlucks, annual traditions.
  11. Some things run totally rough without the pastor’s help: e.g. new traditions, turf battles, the batteries in the automatic flush urinal.
  12. Preaching every week is a great gift, but after ten weeks in a row or so, I needed a break.

Pastors out there, what did you/are you learning in your first parish? Have you come to appreciate the art form that is a Jell-O salad?

Additional Resources from www.TheThoughtfulChristian.com

 

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