Quick Things of Beauty

 Friends, 

I have two things to share with you today. 

 

First, throughout this month for our Sunday morning Introit, the St. Mark Quartet has been singing a beautiful song by Eric Whitacre entitled, Sing Gently. In 2020, 17,572 singers from 129 countries gathered virtually to sing the song, including our own Carissa Huntting and Emilio Lópex Felix. The recordings were captured and compiled into a stunning YouTube video that you can find here. It is mesmerizing and a lovely way to lose oneself a time of holy reverie, just as the song intends. We had every intention to show the video this weekend in worship, but due to copyright restrictions we are unable to embed it into our keynote presentations. Instead, I strongly urge you to take the time to listen, watch, and let your heart be lifted up by watching this video. 

 

Finally, I have been out of pocket this week, enjoying a time of study leave surrounded by the beauty of the Eastern Sierras in Mammoth. Since it is not skiing season, I have been spending the mornings writing, and the late afternoons taking hikes, riding a gondola to the highest peak, walking around lakes, and getting lost in wonder. Wow, talk about mesmerizing and a lovely way to lose oneself! I look forward to returning on Saturday morning and seeing you all in worship this weekend. In addition to the weekly joy of worship, we have our monthly “Meet me at Muldoon’s” on Saturday evening, a baptism on Sunday, and SueJeanne Koh bringing our message. 

 

See you in worship,

Mark of St. Mark

 

IRS Ruling, pt. 2

 Friends, 

 

I wrote some reflections last week on the new IRS ruling allowing churches to endorse candidates from the pulpit without endangering their tax exemption status. That particular ruling is narrowly focused on churches, not all 501c3 organizations. It has been framed as a “free speech” matter, but I suspect there is more to it than that. For example, in this ABC news report, Ellen Aprill, a professor emerita of tax law at Loyola Marymount University Law School, says the new regulation could open the door to political campaigns channeling money through churches to take advantage of their tax-exempt status and lower application and reporting requirements. Aprill even expressed concern that this new ruling “will encourage the creation of fraudulent churches who want to be able to get tax deductible money to engage in opposing or supporting candidates … so they don't have to disclose any other campaign intervention activities.”  

 

When I was the chair of The Interfaith Alliance of Iowa (TIAI), I sat down at a meeting with Florida Congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz, who at that time was the chair of the National Democratic Party. The Christian Coalition was in full swing at that time, and TIAI was begun when a long-time school board member was outed and ousted from office by Christian conservatives for being gay. Because TIAI strongly opposed discrimination based on sexual orientation and tried to change the rhetoric in the public square from addressing queer persons with demeaning language, one Des Moines Register opinion columnist consistently referred to TIAI as “the Christian Coalition of the Left.” We did not like that depiction, but apparently, Congresswoman Schultz thought that was accurate and arranged this meeting to urge us to use our churches, synagogues, and mosques to support a particular Democratic slate of candidates. We responded, “While we may personally support these candidates and agree with all of your reasons for doing so, we will not endorse any candidate from the pulpit, nor will we encourage other houses of worship to do so.” The meeting closed pretty quickly.  

 

The line between “politics and justice” or “politics and faithfulness” will always be gray, malleable, and debatable. The Des Moines Register opinion writer did not appreciate that gray area, supposing that any faith group that was in solidarity with gay and lesbian persons was taking a “political” position. Likewise, the writers of Project 2025 tried to establish a rhetoric that attempts to ensure Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (D.E.I.) are purely political and should be condemned as “woke.” More accurately, a Christian perspective can argue that Diversity, if you look at the expanse of creation, is part of God’s very design; Equity, if you look at biblical laws regarding access to food and shelter, is a moral imperative; and Inclusion, if you look at Jesus’ table manners, is a Christian value. How to establish diversity, equity, and inclusion is an ongoing conversation with many valid perspectives, but simply dismissing D.E.I. efforts generally as “woke” is politically and religiously cynical. 

 

The Presbyterian Church (USA) should strive to be faithful in reflecting God’s diversity, pursuing equity, and practicing inclusion. But we cannot do so by wagging our fingers at others. As we proclaim truth, we must likewise confess our failures and complicities in discriminatory practices. As I pointed out in my sermon last week, the list that our Book of Order says should be protected from discrimination is long, because the list of groups who have suffered discrimination in our church’s history is long. Ironically, the only way a church can exercise a courageous, prophetic voice for justice is by starting with auditing our own failures with fear and trembling. That’s how the paradox of gaining life by losing it, being first by being last, or following Christ by taking up the cross works. 

 

Churches automatically qualify for tax exemption and do not have to file 990 forms disclosing the kind of financial information that other 501 c3 organizations do. Because political donations have been identified lately as exercises of free speech, I share Ellen Aprill’s concerns that the new IRS ruling will not only embolden preachers to explicitly endorse candidates but also allow churches to become unaccountable privileged channels for campaign finances. And we all know that money can be as ruinous and compromising for houses of faith as it is for politics. May God guide us into better light.

 

Mark of St. Mark

The IRS New Ruling

 Friends, 

The IRS issued a ruling this week that allows churches to endorse candidates for political office, without endangering their tax-exempt status. It seems to me that some churches have been openly endorsing candidates, parties, policies, or issuing “voter guides” for quite some time, and the IRS has largely turned a blind eye. 

 

Today I want to offer a few personal perspectives on this new ruling issued by the IRS. I do not feel that being the pastor who preaches regularly at St. Mark puts me in any position of authority to speak to this issue. Rather, I feel that being the pastor who preaches regularly at St. Mark obligates me to clarify my own approach to an issue that can have many valid perspectives. Here goes.

 

1. When we have a stewardship drive or call for the offering, we never appeal to tax advantages. We speak of our “debt of gratitude,” and begin with the claim that the earth and everything in it belongs to God. It seems crass to appeal to making an offering to God as a matter of economic advantage. Still, that deduction is something that we all take for granted. My guess is that tax advantages is a part of the equation in church giving, but I have no idea how significant it is and I hope it is quite small.   

 

2. Someone who is called to preach the Word of God needs to ask theological questions, moderating their words by what God requires far more than a fear of losing their tax exemption. There are theological reasons for preachers to observe the difference between the Christian message and a partisan political stance and here are a few that shape the way I try to speak the Word of God, even when it involves issues that have been politicized: 

 

- “God alone is Lord of the conscience,” which sets the individual conscience free from the dictates of any religious or secular authority.

- “The Christian conscience is captive to the Word of God” – remember Repentance means “change the way you think about everything!” 

- “Sin is radical and universal” – radical in the sense that there is no aspect of our being that is unaffected by it, including our opinions; universal in the sense that no religious or political opinion is exempt from the taint of sin. 

- “We are the church reformed, always being reformed,” by which we mean the living God whose Spirit is among us is ever at work transforming our hearts, renewing our minds, and challenging us with the possibilities of new life. 

- “The church is a prophetic community,” which is my own summation of how Presbyterians view the story of the Day of Pentecost and its meaning for us today. That story takes the power of prophecy, the call to speak truth to power, and pours it out on all the people of God. 

- In addition to worship and fellowship, the church of Jesus Christ is called to peacemaking, the right administration of justice, liberative preference for the poor, caring for creation, upholding the dignity and value of all persons, and demanding accountability of those in leadership, among other things. In order for these commitments to be more than just pious rhetoric, they require study, encouragement, organization, advocacy, and action.

- When we proclaim the Living God, who loves “the world,” and for whom justice matters, we cannot reduce the gospel to what Jesus did once upon a time or reduce salvation to a purely personal matter. A living God is far more disruptive of our ways than that. 

 

3. In “the separation of church and state,” the line of demarcation between church and state is always elusive. Is something like ‘advocating for immigration justice’ an act of Christian conscience or is it ‘political’? If an issue of justice is politicized, how do we speak to it as an issue of justice and escape the claim that we’re being political? 

 

I don’t think it is possible for the church to be squeaky clean in separating matters of justice from matters of politics, when the purpose of politics is to ensure justice. So, when it comes to what we proclaim, it seems to me that the issue of tax exemption should matter much less to us than keeping our theological convictions. 

 

That’s me just thinking aloud this morning,

Mark of St. Mark

 

 

Bread for the World

Friends, 

Happy 4^th of July. Today I will find time to honor my annual habit of reading Frederick Douglass’ astounding reflection, “What, to the Slave, is the Fourth of July?” You can watch a powerful recitation of that speech by Douglass’ great-great-great-great grandchildren here. It will be time well spent and that speech continues to offer prophetic power. 

 

Speaking of offering prophetic power, on the weekend of June 1 we commissioned one of our youth, Collette Anderson, and one of our deacons, Angie Vazirian, to attend a Bread for the World conference. Here is Collette’s response and report of that event for us. Wow, she speaks truth. 

 

Mark of St. Mark

 

I am so grateful for the opportunity to participate in the 2025 Bread for The World Advocacy Summit. Bread for the World is a bipartisan Christian organization with a focus on solving world hunger. In times like these making your voice heard is very important and this summit allowed me to do so. I met so many incredible people and learned so much about advocacy and the right ways to do it. Having meetings on the hill and knowing that I am doing everything I can to make a difference is such a great feeling. This experience taught me so much about the importance of the voice of the people. It was inspiring to see so many people of all ages coming together for such a great cause. Everyone I met was so driven and had such an amazing heart. On the last day of the summit, we had meetings in the offices of our representatives on Capitol Hill. Some people met with the representatives themselves, in my case, I met with the staffers. We approached the meetings with the “ask” of protecting SNAP, WIC, and international food aid programs. My representatives have all been openly and loudly supportive of these programs so our focus was on asking how they were planning on getting the support of their colleagues across the aisle. Meetings like these are important because they give the representatives stories to sway their colleagues. I was told that by speaking to representatives with your same opinion you are “arming members with an arsenal of anecdotes”. It is also very impactful to send your representatives emails and letters and call their offices directly.

 

If there's ANY form of legislation or policy you are passionate about, reach out to your representatives. Your voice is important, now more than ever. There are so many issues in need of addressing and anything you care about is worth expressing. Whether it be by email, physical letter or even scheduling a meeting with their office make your voice heard. This summit specifically focused on urging representatives against passing the Big Beautiful Bill which will cause $290 billion in budget cuts over the next 10 years. So although there are other concerns I would have liked to address as well, we focused specifically on this bill. As an organization voicing concerns for world hunger, we focused on the issues that the bill will cause on people who rely on programs such as SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) and WIC (Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants, and Children) as well as international hunger aid programs. SNAP is a federal program that provides financial assistance to low-income individuals and families to purchase food. It operates through an Electronic Benefit Transfer card, which can be used at authorized retailers to buy food items. WIC is a federally funded program that provides supplemental food, nutrition education, and health care referrals to low-income pregnant, breastfeeding, and postpartum women, as well as infants and children up to age 5 who are at nutritional risk. These programs are relied on by over 45 million Americans and are a large part of solving the hunger problem in the U.S. The budget cuts in this bill will strip millions of families of this support leaving them hungry. If this is something you are passionate about you can use this link to send a pre-written email to your representatives that can be modified in any way to fit your specific views or any personal stories.https://go.bread.org/page/82476/action/1?locale=en-, You can use this link to contact your senators about any matter important to you: https://www.senate.gov/senators/senators-contact.htm US No matter what it is you are passionate about and no matter what your opinion is I strongly urge you to reach out to your representatives because your voice can and will make a difference. Advocacy is important. There is no way for a representative to know what the people want unless we tell them. We are the people.

 

Collette Anderson

Pentecostal Mystery

 Friends, 

Today I present a Pentecost poem, written by St. Mark member Don Beard, a man of many passions and artistic talents. Enjoy.

 

Today

Is Not the Tomorrow

My Yesterday Self

Dreamed OF

Hunger Still Exists So Needlessly.

Lives and Livelihoods Are Still Destroyed by Greed and Wars.

Loving Our Neighbors and One Another

Is Not as Inclusive as it Ought to Be.

Such Truths as These and Others not Listed

Continue to Remind Me

That Today

Is Not the Tomorrow 
My Yesterday Self Dreamed Of

But then I Remember the Pentecostal Mystery

Of How God Brough His People Together

To Speak and Understand a Though With One Voice.

Reminding Us That It Is in Our Togetherness

That We Too Can Be Part of the One Voice

Proclaiming The Power and The Promise of The Resurrection.

My Hope and Prayer for the Here And Now

Is That Someday, Hopefully Not Too Far Away,

By Continuing to Use Our God Given Skills and Talents

Along With Our Combined Voices,

That We Will One Day Be Able To Say,

Today 
Is the Tomorrow 
Our Yesterday Selves

Dreamed Of

 

 

Mark of St. Mark

The Disruptive Holy Spirit

Friends, 

 

I took a break from my Pentecost theme last week to honor Holmes Rolston III and Walter Brueggemann of blessed memory. Now, back to the theme. 

 

I want to talk about the discomfort and disruption that the Holy Spirit often brings in her wake. First, let me nerd out for a second about the term “Holy Spirit.” The Greek term for Spirit is πνεῦμα. As you may know, in Greek – as in many other languages – nouns are often identified as either masculine, feminine, or neuter, and πνεῦμα is neuter. So, if one wants to select a pronoun, one can go with “him,” “her,” or “it.” Translations rarely choose “it” when referring to the Holy Spirit, because Christian doctrine considers the Holy Spirit to be the “third person” of the trinity, and “it” is impersonal, usually referring a thing. I prefer to speak of the Holy Spirit with the pronouns she/her for a couple of reasons. First, I should confess, I like how it catches people off guard and makes them ask questions. But, more importantly, some of the related terms to πνεῦμα are specifically female nouns, such as πνοή, that mighty rushing wind/breath that entered the house on the Day of Pentecost (Acts 2:2). In addition, the Holy Spirit is often described in ways that “Wisdom” is described in the Hebrew Bible, and the term in Hebrew, as well as its Greek counterpart “Sophia” are also feminine. Proverbs 8 has the most delightful description of Wisdom accompanying God during creation, which the Old Testament scholar Bill Brown says reads like “take your daughter to work day”: “then I was beside [God], like a master worker, and I was daily his delight, playing before him always, playing in his inhabited world and delighting in the human race.” That is Wisdom speaking, a participant in God’s act of creation. 

 

In addition to the arguable femininity of the term, the word πνεῦμα has a wide array of meanings. It can mean “spirit” as in a human spirit or God’s spirit. It can also mean “breath” or “wind.” When translations speak of the sound of ‘a rushing mighty wind’ entering the room (Acts 2:2), then says they were all filled with the “Holy Spirit” (2:4), we are receiving their best interpretations. Verse 2 could read, “rushing mighty breath” or “rushing mighty spirit.” Verse 4 could read that they were all filled with “the holy breath,” which sounds like the creation story in Genesis 2, or “the holy wind” (although that sounds odd). And the capitalization of “Holy Spirit” instead of “holy spirit” is entirely a judgment call., as is the King James Bible’s phrase “Holy Ghost,” using “ghost” instead of “spirit” for πνεῦμα.

 

What is more important about the Holy Spirit is how disruptive she is. As we heard last weekend, religions are inherently enculturated. They are typically birthed in a particular culture, with particular views of the world, particular languages, and particular authoritative figureheads. And while they may grow and extend beyond the original culture, they tend to privilege certain aspect of their history. Think of how a religious book might describe a war, with God clearly on one side and not the other. Think of how some 21^st century Roman Catholics argue mightily for bringing back the “Latin Mass” that was ended with the Second Vatican Council, even if they don’t understand a word of it. Think about how a classical piece of music, even it is titled Etude in d minor is considered “sacred music,” while “What a Wonderful World” is considered “secular.” It’s not a criticism, but an observation that religions tend to take on a particular culture, sometimes declaring a language to be more sacred than others, and so on. 

 

With that in mind, look at the disruption the Holy Spirit causes on Pentecost! Suddenly every language becomes a medium for declaring the mighty works of God. Every language, hence, every culture. The language of friends; the language of enemies. The language of the educated; the language of barbarians (seriously, “Cretans” are mentioned in the story!) After the litany of cultural identities present, the story says, “in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” The Holy Spirit tramples on the unspoken rule of religion by bypassing the presumed privilege of culture and language by making God’s story accessible to everyone. Jesus once likened her to “the wind (pneuma) which blows where it will.” That Holy Spirit, she does what she does!

 

It seems that the church has been trying to shove the Holy Spirit back into proper cultural, linguistic, and theological boxes ever since the Day of Pentecost. Our faithfulness lies in setting her free and trying to keep up! 

 

Mark of St. Mark

 

  

In Life and in Death, We Belong to God

This past week, two significant figures in the Christian academic world died, both at 92 years old. Holmes Rolston III and Walter Brueggemann had very different, long, and influential careers, for which I want to give thanks today. 

 

From Union Presbyterian Seminary, where I attended, is this writeup about Holmes Rolston: “Rolston has been a part of the UPSem story for decades. Born November 19, 1932, in Staunton, Virginia, Rolston was raised in a family deeply rooted in Presbyterian ministry. After earning a B.S. in physics and mathematics from Davidson College in 1953, he followed in his father's and grandfather's footsteps by enrolling at Union Theological Seminary (VA), where he received a Bachelor of Divinity in 1956. His wife, Jane Wilson Rolston, earned an M.A. from the Presbyterian School of Christian Education in 1955. Rolston went on to complete a Ph.D. in philosophy from the University of Edinburgh (1958), and an M.A. in the philosophy of science from the University of Pittsburgh (1968).

 

Rolston is widely considered the 'Father of Environmental Ethics' for his work in recognizing the intersections between nature, religion, philosophy, and ethics. In addition to teaching for over 40 years at Colorado State University, Dr. Rolston published multiple works, including Philosophy Gone Wild (1986), Environmental Ethics: Values in and Duties to the Natural World (1988), Conserving Natural Value (1994), Genes, Genesis, and God(1999), Three Big Bangs: Matter-Energy, Life, and Mind (2010) and A New Environmental Ethics (2012, 2020). His argument that nature possesses intrinsic value beyond human utility reshaped environmental philosophy and religious thought alike. His work served as a moral compass in an age of ecological crisis, offering a framework in which care for creation is not only a scientific necessity but also a sacred duty.”

 

Walter Brueggemann was one of the most influential biblical scholars of our time, for me and for a large host of students of the Bible. He retired as a Professor Emeritus at Columbia Theological Seminary, in Decatur, GA, after a widely published and sought out career as a preacher and teacher. I will share a prayer he wrote called, “On Controlling Our Borders.” 

 

“Jesus – crucified and risen – draws us into his presence again, the one who had nowhere to lay his head, no safe place, no secure home, no passport or visa, no certified citizenship.

We gather around him in our safety, security, and well-being, and fret about ‘illegal immigrants.’ We fret because they are not like us and refuse our language. We worry that there are so many of them and their crossings do not stop. We are unsettled because it is our tax dollars that sustain them and provide services. We feel the hype about closing borders and heavy fines, because we imagine that our life is under threat.

 

And yet, as you know very well, we, all of us – early or late – are immigrants from elsewhere; we are glad for cheap labor and seasonal workers, who do tomatoes and apples and oranges to our savoring delight. And beyond that, even while we are beset by fears and aware of pragmatic costs, we know very well that you are the God who welcomes strangers, who loves aliens and protects sojourners.

 

As always, we feel the tension and the slippage between the deep truth of our faith and the easier settlements of our society.

 

We do not ask for an easy way out, but for courage and honesty and faithfulness. Give us ease in the presence of those unlike us; give us generosity amid demands of those in need, help us to honor those who trespass as you forgive our trespasses.

 

You are the God of all forgiveness. By your gracious forgiveness transpose us into agents of your will, that our habits and inclinations may more closely follow your majestic lead, that our lives may joyously conform to your vision of a new world.

We pray in the name of your holy Son, even Jesus." 

Prayers for a Privileged People, Walter Brueggemann, Abingdon Press, ©2008

 

In life and in death, we belong to God.

 

Mark of St. Mark

Pentecost and Zeal

I want to repeat my comment from last week that we Presbyterians do ourselves a disservice by leaving Pentecost to Pentecostals. When I was being examined for ordination by the East Iowa Presbytery thirty years ago, most of the questions were concerned about my Pentecostal upbringing and whether I would try to impose Pentecostalism onto the congregations I served. I understood where the concerns were coming from and actually shared many of them. At the same time, I didn’t want to throw the story of the Day of Pentecost under the bus in order to demonstrate that I was a safe candidate. Growing up Pentecostal offered me a host of positive experiences, along with negative experiences that I’ve been trying to work through spiritually and theologically during my adulthood. I will save the negative experiences for a memoir or a comedy routine at a later time, but some of the positive experiences may surprise someone unaccustomed to the tradition: Women preachers (not pastors, but preachers) were common; we called one another “brother” or “sister” instead of “Mr., Mrs. Miss, or even Rev.”; men were unafraid to hug one another, even before the “bro hug” became a thing; and within the Christian life there was an expectation of zeal. Today I want to think about what it means to honor zeal as an important and valuable part of the Christian experience. 

 

First, the necessary caveat. Zeal comes in many forms, some of them awful. Unbridled zeal has often led to a fanatic willingness to commit atrocities in the name of some supposed commitment to a greater end. Zeal blurs the lines between sacrificing oneself and sacrificing another. Zeal often makes us unreasonable, unable or unwilling to see things from another perspective. Zeal justifies bombing villages, driving a truck into a crowd, conversion therapy, banning books, or declaring war. Just as emotions can often seem antithetical to reason, zeal can often seem antithetical to basic human decency. So, zeal rightly takes on a very negative connotation in many cases. 

 

Still, there is a lot to be said for zeal, enthusiasm, ardor, and an “all-in” level of commitment. Dr. King’s zeal for justice and human rights is what drove his feet to cross the Edmund Pettus bridge, despite the dangers that awaited him on the other side. Jesus’ zeal for God’s house is what compelled him to turn over tables and drive money-changers out of the temple. Any commitment to justice, peacemaking, inclusivity, or transformation that lacks zeal tends to flame out, because there are so many barriers that one needs the energy to push through. That might be a great definition of zeal: The energy to push through, especially when the initial euphoria has worn away. The word “zeal” brings to mind exclamation points, loud voices, adamant stances, and the like, but true zeal is often a matter of showing up, faithfully, time and time again. 

 

As zeal pertains to worship, the Presbyterian Book of Order has long described worship as containing both “order” and “ardor.” The wisdom of our tradition says order and ardor are not antithetical to one another, rather, they enhance each other. The “order” ensures that our zeal does not descend into fanaticism but is ever held accountable to other forms of God’s wisdom and grace. That’s how we ensure that our Pentecostal fire does not become wildfire, destroying everything in its wake. The “ardor” ensures that our propriety does not reduce our worship to rote, lifeless pronouncements that don’t recognize the presence of the living God right there with us whenever we gather. It is the Pentecost fire that stokes the engine to life, at times in a flash and at other times in a constant heat. 

 

I so appreciate those of you who show up again and again, ready to serve, ready to worship, and ready to lift one another up. That, to me, is the constant heat that the fire of Pentecost brings, which enables the church to be the church through thick and thin. I also appreciate those of you who “get fired up,” whether you express it by clapping or nodding or saying “amen” during worship, or by jumping in and making sure that we do what justice calls us to do. The fire of Pentecost is what keeps us writing that letter, making that call, marching that march, and telling that truth. 

 

So, while wearing red may feel a bit gimmicky, it will be a reminder to us that we are empowered, enflamed, energized by God’s own Spirit. What a beautiful gift that is. 

 

Mark of St. Mark

 

The Roots of Pentecost

 Friends, 

As I mentioned last week, we will spend the month of June focused on the story, event, and meaning of Pentecost. Christians ground our understanding of “the Day of Pentecost” in the story of the second chapter of Acts, when the Holy Spirit was poured out on the believers who had gathered to pray. That moment could only be described with poignant symbolism – tongues of fire, diverse languages, the sound of hurricane-like winds, and so on. As such, it was a phenomenal event (literally!), rich with meaning. 

 

While the event in Acts is often the way that Christians become familiar with Pentecost, it was a celebration with a long history before the early church’s experience. This weekend, we’ll read from the book of Leviticus how this celebration got its name and was initiated as an agricultural festival, namely the “Festival of Weeks.” Numbers matter. In the creation story of Genesis, the earth is created in six days, with God resting on the seventh, creating a “Sabbath.” That seven-day story seems less about geology and more about theology – God blessed the rhythm of work and rest. Consequently, the number seven became associated with completion, which is why is shows up so often in other biblical stories. 

 

The “Festival of Weeks,” was a time of seven weeks, which could be called “seven sevens,” “seven Sabbaths,” or “a week of weeks.” The day after these 49 days, day 50, was set apart as something like a “super-Sabbath.” It was called various things, such as “Shavuot,” based on the Hebrew word for ‘seven,’ or “Pentecost,” based on the Greek word for ‘fifty.’ As the second great celebration in Israel’s annual liturgical calendar after Passover, it was also a harvest festival, so it was celebrated with bringing in the “firstfruits” of the field and cattle. We will circle back to this brief history this weekend in worship. 

 

Pentecost was also at the heart of a controversy in the Jewish tradition, between the groups that we have come to know as the “Sadducees” and the “Pharisees.” The controversy was about when the count of 50 days was to begin. This controversy took place during what is often called the “Second Temple” period, when the temple had been rebuilt after the exile to Babylon. Also during that period, the celebration of Pentecost took on new meaning. It was interpreted as signifying how, seven weeks after leaving Egypt (as commemorated in the Passover meal), God gave Moses the Law on Mount Sinai. So, many Jews today will tell you that Shavuot is a celebration of when God gave the People of Israel the Law. 

 

To be honest, I have enough trouble keeping up with controversies and theological innovations within our own Presbyterian household to begin trying to comprehend the significance of the Pentecost tradition in Judaism. But I do find it important to remember that Pentecost is not a liturgical celebration that just plops out of nowhere onto the Christian Church in the book of Acts. “The Day of Pentecost” enters the story already full of meaning and that’s part of what we will hear this weekend. 

 

It may be due to my Pentecostal upbringing, but I think we Presbyterians have done ourselves, our history, and the Holy Spirit herself a disservice by leaving the story of the Day of Pentecost to Pentecostals. We worry that too much attention to it leads to excessive focus on excitable feelings. Believe me, I have my own criticisms of excessive focus on excitable feelings and worked hard to move myself from the Pentecostal tradition to one which, I think, has so much more value and meaning to it. But this story of Pentecost is way more than a moment of excitable feelings. And, to be honest, I’m not sure if excitable feelings are any worse than uber-controlled emotions. So, rather than choosing between the “Holy Roller” or the “Frozen Chosen” camps, we will chart a faithful course that listens to the story of the Day of Pentecost as the living Word of God today. I can’t wait.

 

Mark of St. Mark

Things at Hand; Things Forthcoming

 Friends, 

I have a few things to share about this weekend and beyond. 

First, in honor of Memorial Day weekend, you will find an opportunity in the foyer to write the names of those whom you remember this weekend and hang it up with others. As you enter the front doors, there is a table to your right, on which are small cards, markers, and clothespins (small and teeny). Feel free to write a name, a thought, a memory – whatever is on your heart this weekend, and attach it to the fishnets. It will be lovely way to honor those whom we remember this weekend and to do so alongside of one another. 

Second, I happened to meet someone yesterday who is a shopkeeper from Bethlehem. As a Palestinian Muslim, Adnan Subeh has seen his business devastated by the Israeli attacks on Gaza. While Bethlehem itself has not been under attack, shopkeepers like Adnan are dependent on tourism and that industry has dried up considerably. Adnan is being hosted by a pastor friend of mine, who is bringing him to our Saturdays @ 5 worship service and to Muldoon’s after. Since he is in the US to sell his wares, he will briefly share some of his experience with us and will have a table outside just outside of the sanctuary.  

Finally, the Season of Pentecost is coming soon and I invite you to prepare for it. The story of Pentecost in Acts 2 is chock full of symbolism – wind, spirit, breath (all three of those symbols are from one word, pneuma), fire, languages, and the Spirit which is symbolized throughout the gospels as a dove. In addition, the language of the story is the language of abundance, with references to “all of them” and “each of them,” a long list of other countries from which the participants came, as well as “young and old,” “men and women.” As we live the story today, we can imagine – in keeping with the spirit of Pentecost – even broader terms that would include non-binary, trans, differently-abled, and marginalized folk that are often overlooked. And there is no shortage in our own communities of diverse languages, ethnicities, and places of origin. The Pentecost story is a marvelous story because we can easily imagine the power of this Spirit in our own time. It is a story of “renewable energy,” so to speak. 

I have decided to dedicate the entire month of June’s worship services to visiting and revisiting this story. We’ll start on the weekend of May 31 and June 1, when we look at the agricultural backstory of Pentecost as we celebrate communion. Pentecost weekend itself is June 7-8, then we’ll have three more weekends to revel in the renewable energy of this story. And here is how you can prepare. 

1. Write a prayer for peace. You can write a letter, a poem, a haiku; or make a flyer, draw a picture, or create something that I don’t have the imagination to name here. It needs to be on flat paper and no larger than 8.5 x 11. The Worship Commission will install a large dove on the chancel, and we want to cover it with your prayers for peace. Please create your prayer and bring it by next weekend, May 31-June 1. 

2. Plan to wear red on Pentecost weekend, June 7 and 8. Something. Anything. You’ll look mahvelous! 

3. Pray for a Revival of Justice. That is what Pentecost is all about and that is why the church so desperately needs to return to this story again and again. 

More to come,

Mark of St. Mark

Storytelling and The Last Monk of Durau

 Friends, 

 Many of you have been very kind in your appreciation of the story about “The Last Monk of Durau” that I shared in my sermons last weekend. Here is a small tale behind my encounter with that story. I first read it in 2006, in a publication called Hungry Hearts: A Quarterly Journal of Reformed Spirituality that was once published by the Office of Theology and Worship in the Presbyterian Church. It was written by Joseph Small, who was the director of that office until 2011. Since it has been almost 20 years since I read it, you can see that it made quite an impression on me. Somewhere along the line, I wrote a brief version of that story – I don’t know when I did that originally, but that is the only version of it that I can find these days. I don’t think Hungry Hearts was ever digitalized, and it has been difficult trying to find a way to access it. (I did reach out to a friend who works in the PCUSA office in Louisville to see if she has any suggestions. Nothing yet.) 

 

With my maybe/maybe-not reliable version of the story, I went to the internet to find some more information about Durau itself. I was able to confirm that I’m spelling it correctly, that it is known for its ski resort and wild game reserve, and that there is a hermitage for nuns there, that was once a monastery. And I ended up reading a lot more about Nicholae Ceausescu than I intended. So, I figured that if my memory was correct on the particulars, I could rely on it for the gist of the story, which was the last monk of Durau’s faithfulness and endurance while outlasting the Ceausescu regime. 

 

I want to be transparent to you about this story, because I tell stories as part of preaching, and I know how manipulative or deceitful storytelling can be. I will, on occasion, change the names in a story if it doesn’t affect the truth of the it and if it seems wise to keep the story anonymous. Years ago, I mentioned a neighbor from my childhood in a sermon, back when my sermon manuscripts were published on a church website. Relying on my memories of my memories, I did not paint this neighbor in the most flattering light, and I received a scathing letter in response from one of his children. It was well-deserved, not because what I said was untrue, but because it was not the full story. Stories, particularly of the memoir variety, are always told from a perspective and never represent the whole truth of a person or an incident. So, stories allow us to draw conclusions, with all the proper caveats in place, but not to make final judgments. I told a story about Archbishop Tutu on Easter that I had read about. After worship on Saturday, Andy Scott told me more of the story, which I was able to include on Sunday. That’s a lovely part of stories – multiple accounts give them greater life. And, of course, if there is ever a question of confidentiality, then it is not a story for me to share. 

 

I think what fascinates me the most about the last monk of Durau is simply the power of doing what one is called to do. It’s not magic, not even miraculous, just the ordinary faithfulness of ordinary people serving an extraordinary God, even when it feels futile and hopeless. I continue to be in awe of that story and am so pleased that many of you are also. 

 

Mark of St. Mark

Foucault's Pendulum as a Metaphor

In the summer 0f 2016, I went to Portland, Oregon to attend the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church USA. At the convention center, just outside of the exhibition hall, was an installation of Foucault’s Pendulum. Foucault’s Pendulum is a large leaded ball hanging from a cable, swinging slowly and tantalizingly back and forth. Just watching it swing is captivating and soothing. But it’s not a meditation device and it does not just swing back and forth. Its pattern changes ever-so-slightly with each swing, so that the ball will eventually knock down one of the many pegs that encircle the top of the pendulum. Foucault’s Pendulum is an experiment that uses gravity to demonstrate the earth’s rotation. Unlike the pendulum on a grandfather clock, it does not simply swing back and forth and it does not require someone to go in and reposition the weights occasionally for it to continue swinging. Foucault’s Pendulum is driven by the unseen power of the earth’s spinning axis, so the back-and-forth movements of the pendulum do not end up back where it started. Over 24 hours, the pendulum will knock down every peg along the top. 

 

I think and speak of this pendulum often, so you’ve heard this description already. Beyond its brilliance as a scientific demonstration, I find Foucault’s Pendulum an apt metaphor for how God often works among us. 

 

We often say, “The more things change, the more they remain the same.” That may be a modern version of Ecclesiastes 1:9, “There is nothing new under the sun.” In fact, the whole opening portion of the book of Ecclesiastes seems to lay the groundwork for what some call “the Myth of Eternal Return.” There is something comforting about this rhythm – knowing the “the sun will come out … tomorrow” can bring us calm in a turbulent night. But the Myth of Eternal Return can also lead to despair. If there is nothing new under the sun, we seem to be in a cycle of repetition, leading nowhere in particular. “Nations rise, nations fall”; “the rich get richer, the poor get poorer”; and other anecdotes try to capture the futility we often feel with “one step forward; two steps back.”  

 

The Modern temper has often been convinced that the future can be different from the past. Whether we think of the science of evolution or the power of revolution, the one thing we take for granted is that an outcome can be substantially different from its origin. In that sense, we have embraced “the Myth of Progress.” Christianity has been partly responsible for giving us this temper with our belief that, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (II Corinthians 5:17) (At the same time, the possibility of a different future often scares us, whether we think of a looming environmental disaster or unleashing a kind of AI-generated world that surpasses our control. In those moments we may echo some of the difficult language from the book of Revelation and wonder if doom is at hand. We might call that dystopian view, “the Myth of Regress.”) 

 

Instead of seeing the Myth of Eternal Return and the Myth of Progress as either/or possibilities, I think Foucault’s Pendulum offers a way of gathering our different experiences within the promise of the resurrection. We really do rely on the sun coming out tomorrow. We really do look in the mirror and find ourselves becoming our parents. In that moment, we might agree with the writer of Ecclesiastes that there is nothing new under the sun. That part of our experience is like the giant ball swinging slowly back and forth on Foucault’s pendulum. At the same time, we really do make and keep disciplines that enable us to overcome addictions or learn new skills. We really do live in a world that is experiencing Climate Change, calling us to live differently than our trajectory suggests. At that moment, we echo the Apostle Paul that, in Christ’s resurrection, God is doing a new thing. That part of our experience is often like the barely noticeable change in the course of the pendulum, as it actually does knock down one peg and then another, demonstrating that there is more to its movement than a simple back and forth like the grandfather clock.  

 

My hope here is to offer a metaphor of hope in times when it seems that our work is in vain and even when all we see are setbacks. I guess that’s just another way of repeating, “We have the resurrection, Chappies!” 

 

Mark of St. Mark

 

 

Mental Health and Religious Nationalism

 Friends, 

May is Mental Health Awareness month, a designation that we will try to address and honor throughout the month in our worship services. If you ever get ahold of a Presbyterian Planning Calendar, it seems that every month, even every weekend, tries to recognize something or another. I don’t always find the recognitions helpful, but I am all on board when it comes to recognizing Mental Health Awareness Month. Here’s why.

For too long, matters related to mental health have been stigmatized in our language and our imaginations. Nobody disqualifies someone for seeing a doctor over a matter of physical health, but mental health has been treated differently. Think back to the Nixon Administration’s reaction to the release of “The Pentagon Papers.” They tried to discredit the information that Daniel Elsberg released by burgling the office of Elberg’s psychiatrist, hoping to uncover embarrassing information about his state of mind. They presumed the stigma of Elsberg’s mental health challenges would call his reliability into question and overshadow the administration’s own illegalities. The plan backfired, but the presumption behind it reveals the kind of stigma that has often been attached to mental health.

Throughout this month, our Health Commission, and especially our Parish Counselor Gretchen Carrillo, will offer us encouraging and instructive ways to learn more about how we can be a more faithful community with regard to mental health. If nothing else, honoring Mental Health Awareness month can help us understand how easily many of us have internalized stigmas into our language and presumptions. You may recall a moment in Jesus’ life, when his mother and brothers came to fetch him, in response to concerns that he was beside himself or perhaps even driven by evil spirits. Human communities have always found ways to presume a norm and marginalize those who don’t live into it, even coopting loving families into that circle of stigmatization. 

…………………………..

There was an excellent and troubling Opinion piece in Thursday’s New York Times about by David French (with whom I do not always agree) about what I am now going to call “Religious Nationalism.” You can read it here. I think he summarized it well when he said, "The Christian right is dead, but the religious right is stronger than it’s ever been. Another way of putting it is that the religious right has divorced itself from historical Christian theology, but still holds its partisan beliefs with religious intensity. The religious fervor is there. Christian virtues are not." That’s powerful and insightful. 

For those who were with us on Easter weekend, remember, “"We have the resurrection!” 

Mark of St. Mark

 

Easter Weekend

 A Long Weekend of Extremes

 

I like to think of this weekend as a long weekend, a loooooooong weekend that begins on Thursday and begins again on Sunday. On Thursday, as we signified in our Maundy Thursday service, Jesus sat at the table with his disciples for a last meal. It’s called “Maundy” Thursday because, in John’s gospel, Jesus got up from the table and washed the disciples’ feet, giving them the command (mandate) to love each other in the same way. 

 

Then, there’s “Good Friday,” which seems like such a misnomer, since there is nothing “good” about any of the human actions that happen on that day. A friend betrays; religious leaders persecute; disciples flee; political leaders waffle; soldiers torture; crowds jeer. If one ever wants to glimpse the worst of human nature, Friday is the place to look. And yet, with deliberate irony, the church began to see God’s ability to bring good out of evil at work, even on this day, within acts of violence and perfidy. 

 

The longest day of this long weekend might be Saturday. On Saturday, nothing happens. At least in the gospel stories, on Saturday everyone rested and abstained from doing work of any sort. The women disciples prepared their spices and ointments on Friday, so they could observe the day of rest on Saturday, before approaching the tomb to anoint a dead body just as soon as the sun arose on Sunday. The men disciples … well, we don’t know what they rested from on Saturday because they had not been performing very admirably on Friday and did not seem to have a plan for doing anything noteworthy on Sunday. I imagine Jesus’ opponents spent the day feeling victorious, while his followers spent the day in the depths of despair. But we can only conjecture, because the biblical accounts themselves are silent about Saturday. More about that below. 

 

Then came Sunday. Sunday starts with the women, going to find and anoint a corpse. What they find is a stone that had been removed and an empty tomb. Then, according to different stories, various individuals and groups began to encounter the risen Christ and so the joy of Easter hope begins. Death has been so many things to so many people – the shadow into which we must all journey ultimately; the inevitability that raises the question of whether life itself has meaning; the threat by which tyranny has always found its power. And now, the power of death is broken, and it is not just a story that affects Jesus. As the Apostle Paul puts it, “Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:4). For the early believers, our participation in resurrection begins in our baptism, not after our death. And that assurance is what empowered the church to face the threat of the sword and keep its profession that Jesus, not Caesar, not popularity, not even one’s own wants or needs, but Jesus is Lord. Sunday alone is a mouthful of a day. 

 

So, I hope you are experiencing the longest weekend right now. It is a time when we face our own duplicities and fear. It is a time for asking who we are willing to scapegoat in order to secure our own safety. It’s not all colorful and delicious – certainly not all fun. But it is all intentional, focused, ever moving toward the good news of the resurrection. 

 

So, let’s circle back to Saturday for a moment. In the gospels, nothing happens on Saturday because it is the Jewish Sabbath, and all of the disciples were faithful Jews. The early Christian tradition wondered what was happening with Jesus on Saturday, and they developed a tradition that, on Saturday, Jesus descended into hell and set the captives free. It was called “the Harrowing of Hell.” While I think the rationale for this tradition is sketchy, I love the intent. As the disciples weep, as the killers gloat, as the sinners bask in self-righteousness, Jesus is entering into the depths of hell itself and liberating captives. I think we should all embrace the Saturday of this long weekend as “Liberation Saturday,” a time to offer hope to the hopeless, food to the hungry, care to the injured, welcome to the marginalized, and freedom for the prisoners. 

 

It is a long weekend indeed, from Thursday to Sunday, from tears to joy, from brokenness to new life. Come, let’s celebrate it together.

 

Mark of St. Mark

Holy Week Begins

 Friends, 

 

On Monday Mohannad Malas will be the presenter during our final Great Decisions event for the year. Mohannad is well-known to many of us, having been part of a “tables of 8” group that we formed years ago to gather Christians and Muslims around tables and conversation. Many people from that group continue to gather and remain close friends. Mohannad co-founded IRA Capital, a real estate firm based in Irvine. In addition, he also serves on the Board of Trustees and established a chair in Islamic Studies at both UCI and Claremont Graduate University. Mohannad is also a film producer of PBS series and Oscar nominated films. The Great Decisions finale begins Monday at 7:00pm in the Fellowship Hall and on Zoom. You can access the zoom through the calendar on the church website. 

 

This weekend marks the beginning of Holy Week with the event that we call “Palm Sunday” and that some describe as Jesus’ “Triumphal Entry” into Jerusalem. It is a significant moment, because Jesus had repeatedly told the disciples that it was imperative for him to go to Jerusalem, where he would be put to death before being raised again. “Palm Sunday” is the day when Jesus makes that entry. And it is the occasion when we enter into that series of events that lead to Jesus’ death, which lead us to the resurrection on Easter. 

 

In many churches, for all manner of reasons, attendance on weekend services far outweigh the attendance at midweek services. Gone are the days when village shops would close during Holy Week so villagers could walk over to the church for services. So, if we adhered strictly to the liturgical calendars that were created during such times, most of our folks would enjoy the giddy, symbolic parade of Palm Sunday and then the next time they enter worship would be Easter, arguably the most joyful of all Christian celebrations. But moving from one mountaintop of joy to the next is a problem because, in between, is the awful valley where we encounter the last supper, the disclosure and reality of betrayal, the tears in the garden, the arrest and abandonment, the trial, the torture, and ultimately the death and burial. That difficult part of the week is often called the “Passion” (or “suffering”) of Christ. So, in order to assure that we hear the fuller story, we will hear both the Palm and Passion stories this weekend. 

 

Not long ago, Pastor Hayes and I reached out to other pastors in Newport Beach whom I know to be kindred spirits, namely Pastor Paul Capetz and Christ Church by the Sea (United Methodist) on the Balboa Peninsula, Rev. Ray Jordan and Kathy Kipp of Community Church, Congregational (United Church of Christ) on Heliotrope, and Father Shane Scott-Hamblen of St. Michael and All Angels, on Pacific View Drive. We met for lunch, because some of us had not met and none of us knew everyone else. It was time well spent, and we decided to join together with Fr. Shane and the congregation of St. Mikes for a Good Friday service. (Episcopalians are typically much traditional than the rest of us, and their Good Friday liturgy is closely associated with their Maundy Thursday and Saturday Vigil liturgy, so it was an easy choice.) 

 

So, despite the fact that our context is far different from the days of old, I encourage you to lean into the stories of Holy Week by attending our Maundy Thursday service next Thursday, at 6:30pm and the Good Friday service with our sister CDM churches, at St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church next Friday at noon. 

 

See you in worship, 

Mark of St. Mark

Parables Open the Space in Between

Throughout the Lenten season we have been exploring the space “in between” - in between friend and stranger, faith and works, lost and found, and so on. I have been uplifted by the way that many of you have taken the time to reflect on and respond to the work of seeing this space in between differences as where discipleship happens. By reading biblical stories as “tensions within polarities” instead of “a choice between opposites,” perhaps we will be able to see life more dynamically. What a gift that is when we are tempted to buy into either/or, us/them choices. 

 

One of the brilliant qualities of Jesus’ preaching and teaching is his use of parables. People often treat parables like sermon illustrations, a dumbing down of difficult concepts so everyone can understand them better. Others treat parables like allegories, where every detail “represents” something in particular, even if one has to perform mental gymnastics to make them fit. And, indeed, there are times when a parable seems to clarify or serves as an allegory. But many parables obfuscate instead of clarify, because they overturn our expectations we have of how life typically works. And every allegory tends to break down sooner or later. With most parables, sooner more than later. 

 

One biblical scholar who has shaped my approach to parables is the late William Herzog II.  In his book, Parables as Subversive Speech, Herzog take an old adage about parables and corrects it. Parables are often described as “earthly stories with heavenly meaning.” Herzog describes them as “earthy stories with heavy meaning.” The difference is enormous. As earthy stories parables are often set in difficult contexts – demanding landowners, abusive bosses, upper-level decisions that can be devastating to poor folk below, etc. In such a world, some parables wrap up nicely, some take dramatic and unexpected turns, and some just end with no apparent resolution. For example, did the Fig Tree we read about two weeks ago respond to the year-long treatment and begin producing fruit? We don’t know. Herzog’s subtitle is “Jesus as Pedagogue of the Oppressed,” meaning Jesus’ whole teaching approach is oriented toward those who are living under the shadow of the Empire, so those who suffer the effects of imperial power today are in the best position to appreciate the parables. For example, perhaps the non-ending of the Fig Tree parable calls us to shift our focus – what if productivity is not the point? That would take the wind out of the sails of a whole section of books in Barnes and Noble, wouldn’t it? (I’m tempted to get clever and write an alliterative paragraph of how “parables puncture pretentious presumptions,” but, alas, I’m out of space.) 

 

This week’s Scripture will give us a story, not a parable, and it will enable us to explore that space between “righteousness and mercy.” I’m looking forward to it and hope to see you there. 

 

Mark of St. Mark

Difference and Opposition, part 2

 Friends, 

I want to continue following the idea from last week, exploring the distinction between ‘difference’ and ‘opposition.’ To review, when we treat differences as opposition, we shut of the tension of the space in between them – negotiation, compromise, openness to learning from others, etc. – and place ourselves into an either/or posture against our “opponents.” Last week I wrote about the influences in my own journey that help me see the tension between differences is a rich and promising place for discipleship. However, I don’t want to leave you with a misunderstanding. So, this week I am thinking of the cautionary tale of Buridan’s Ass: Buridan tied his ass to a stake and set two bales of hay equidistant from it on opposite sides. The ass was hungry and wanted to eat the best hay, but neither bale offered a clear reason for it to choose one over the other or to forsake one or the other. As the ass vacillated in indecision, the poor thing eventually starved to death. 

I like this tale because sometimes we face two options, neither of which is altogether good or bad, so it is hard to accept one and reject the other. In fact, our Presbyterian heritage insists that until the Reign of God comes in its fullness, none of our choices will be altogether good. But I don’t mean to imply that our only option is to die of starvation. “Living in the tension between differences,” is not simply dithering and avoiding choices because none of our options are perfect. 

So, how can we be faithful in those moments when oppositional thinking presents us with either/or choices, yet we know that neither is absolutely good? I’m not sure that there is a single, final answer to this question, so, we live in a constant state of discernment. At times we “hold our nose and vote,” because not voting may allow a worse option to win the day. At times we refuse to cooperate with an unjust system, even to the point of suffering for that refusal. At times we prophetically offer an alternative to the unjust system, like the early church choosing to live simply in order to sustain one another. 

Here’s some good news: That Presbyterian heritage I mentioned above can be very constructive. We start with the belief that, until the Reign of God has come in its fullness, we will not have perfect choices. That means no political party, nation-state, family, individual, institution, or even religion is untainted by some kind of shortcoming or sinfulness. Yet, within that awareness, early American Presbyterians insisted on democracy as the best form of government. They did not embrace democracy because they thought a 51% opinion is always right. The majority is also affected by sin. They supported democracy because it was less exploitable than aristocracy, oligarchy, monarchy, theocracy, and other systems that concentrated too much power into too few hands of sinful people. I still think that is a compelling reason for faithful Christians to support democracy, as well as balancing the three branches of government, honoring subsidiarity, and other practices that disperse power. Each of those ideas is a way of attaining what Reinhold Niebuhr called “proximate goods” in a fallen world.  

Each week we offer prayers of confession during worship, not because we are all creepy people deep inside, but because even when we strive to do what is right we often participate in sinfulness. That practice is prophetic in itself, demonstrating to the world that we can be honest, realistic, and genuine about our failings, and still come before God with bold humility. And then we “Hear the Good News” because our sinfulness may be a true word about our lives, but God’s grace is always the final word. 

Mark of St. Mark

Difference v. Opposition

 Friends, 

I won’t be the first or last to observe that we have deep divisions in our society. However, without descending into rose-colored glasses, I want to push back on this notion a little bit. We tend to name our differences in the most oppositional terms - red/blue, us/them, in/out, left/right. During our Lenten season, we are very deliberately trying to address those differences as polarities, and our discipleship journey as living in the tension between those polarities. Last week, for example, we looked at the story and the context around the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), to explore what it means to live between “neighbor” and “stranger.” This week we are looking at the story of Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38-42), to explore what it means to live between “faith” and “action.” We do this work liturgically and sermonically during Saturday and Sunday worship, and explore them more deeply through our Text Studies, which you can see here.

In my own faith journey, I have found two ideas to be particularly helpful when trying to live as a disciple of Jesus Christ in a world that often defines itself in terms of extreme either/or choices. The first was a simple passing statement that I once read – written by or about Jaques Derrida – that we have the tendency to treat “difference” as “opposition.” Once we adopt oppositional thinking, then for one idea to be “right” the other must necessarily be “wrong.” If one is “good” the other is “bad.” When differences are entrenched as oppositions, we lose the language of “better or worse” and the art of compromise becomes “selling out” or “caving in.”  When we structure challenges as “red/blue,” “us/them,” it becomes easy to identify ourselves by our differences and ignore our commonalities. A better approach is to recognize that the “opposition party” (see how we talk?) is not always wrong and we’re not always right. To act otherwise is both unwise and contrary to some good Presbyterian theology that sin is universal (affecting “us” as well as “them.”) 

The second idea that I have found helpful is more of an approach than a comment. The theologian Paul Tillich began his systematic theology by describing “ontological polarities” of human existence. By “ontological,” Tillich is attempting to name something that is true about human beings generally, deeper than our cultural or historical particularities. By “polarities,” Tillich is recognizing that human life is often lived within the pull of very different, but real parts of who we are. For example, we live within the tension of “freedom and destiny.” Of course we have freedom. We think, we deliberate, we choose, and we either reap the rewards or suffer the consequences. On the other hand, of course we are destined. We didn’t choose to be left-handed or right-handed; tall or short; straight, bi, or gay; or to be born in our country during our time. All of that was given to us and we cannot escape it. Still, we have freedom. One could say the destiny of our DNA, culture, disposition, etc. set the menu from which we exercise our freedom. It’s not freedom or destiny; we live within the polarities of freedom and destiny. 

To me, it seems altogether insightful and true to experience to approach theology – God before us and us before God – in terms of the polarities that structure our experience. That is why I appreciate the approach that our resource, “A Sanctified Art,” has provided for us during Lent. Last weekend, we looked at the tension between “neighbor and stranger” and this week “faith and works.” We do not approach those differences as incompatible oppositions. We can explore living in then tension between them, not simply living according to one or the other. 

And that brings us back to the starting point of this missive. One outcome of our Lenten journey may be that we develop an ability to resist the oppositional presumptions of red/blue, us/them, in/out, and left/right. Perhaps we will recognize within ourselves principled opinions that cross over oppositional thinking. Perhaps we can recognize that quality within our neighbor as well. Part of the reason Paul Tillich begins his theology with recognizing our “ontological polarities” is to remember that whenever we speak of God we are always doing so from a limited human framework. That is a humble starting point and one that we can exercise with regard to the big questions that vex us politically as well as the differences we see between ourselves and our neighbors. If our Lenten journey can get us a little farther down that road of walking humbly, it will be a faithful journey indeed. 

Mark of St. Mark