What’s Next, part VI

This week I want to resume asking this question, “What are some of the elements of ‘White Christianity’ that are different from ‘Christianity’ itself?” Keeping in mind that I do not believe we are able to tease out anything that could be called ‘pure Christianity,’ since the substance of religion seems always to be found in some kind of cultural form. What we’re after is not culture-less Christianity, but a self-awareness, self-critical ability to see how some forms of Christianity-as-we-know-it, are reflective of a peculiar cultural shape we can call ‘White Christianity.’ And this is not just an academic exercise. It is deadly serious, because throughout its history White Christianity has sanctioned things like crusades, holy wars, genocide, misogyny, and slavery. Unless we take a serious and deep self-critical look at the Christianity that we have inherited, we might well be serving the exact opposite of the gospel made known to us in Christ. So, this is not about political correctness; it is all about faithfulness. 

In response to my invitation a few weeks ago to suggest qualities of White Christianity, one reader name Bill asked, “Is the almost mechanical understanding of ‘substitutionary atonement’ a product of the rise of science and manufactory in 18^th-19^thcentury Western thinking?” I find Bill’s question compelling in two respects. First, it renews for us the question of how much our doctrines of “atonement” are shaped by western culture. Second, it questions whether the Industrial revolution causes us to look at things that are not mechanical as if they were. Let’s look at both questions briefly. 

The doctrine of “Atonement” refers to how we speak of being reconciled, or “at one” with God. The question of atonement is, “How are we reconciled to God, after being separated from God by sin?” The consistent Christian answer is, “through Jesus Christ,” but if the follow-up question is, “and how so?” then we get into various doctrinesof atonement. The most popular doctrine of atonement is often called the “satisfaction theory” of atonement. It says something like: 

Sin is an offense against God, because God is just. So, God’s justice demands satisfaction of a penalty paid. Yet, because of loves us, God provides the 

payment in the form of God’s only child who is crucified in our place.

In this theory, Jesus has “satisfied” the payment of the penalty for sin by being our “substitute,” bearing the punishment that we deserve. 

The substitutionary approach to atonement coheres nicely with our doctrines of sin and grace. Bill’s question is whether the development of science and manufactory in the 18^thand 19^thcentury has shaped us to see the doctrine of atonement almost as a mechanism, rather than something more dynamic, like a birth or a journey of transformation. The mechanical transaction could even be a way of avoiding the cost of discipleship. Instead of focusing on Jesus’ words, “If anyone would be my disciple, let them take up their cross and follow me,” we might say instead, “Jesus has paid it all for me.”  

Perhaps I’m reading some of my own questions into Bill’s question. Partly that is because Bill is currently serving a church in Sri Lanka, where three Christian churches and three hotels were bombed in Sri Lanka on Easter Sunday, resulting in over 300 deaths. Bill’s own congregation was not among those that were bombed and although his communication channels have been limited, we do know that his congregation are safe for now. Notice that the bombers targeted Christian churches and luxury hotels. To some extent that would indicate that the bombers see Christianity as part of the same kind of western influence as capitalism and affluence. And while Bill raised his question before the bombings, his sensitivities to how much “Western” influence there is in Christianity in Sri Lanka were prescient. 

Has our doctrine of atonement allowed us to be comfortable with income inequality, oppression of the poor, and other such sins, because at least we know that Jesus paid the price for our sins? Does our doctrine prevent us from hearing the call to be part of God’s liberating activity on the earth, because we already have our blessed assurance? Does our doctrine tell us we are saved from sin of the world, rather than a calling to be engaged in transforming the world? 

It is possible that if we see atonement chiefly as something Jesus did 2,000 years ago, which automatically ensures our salvation today, we may leave off fully embracing the meaning of the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Christ. 

I have perhaps oversimplified the substitutionary atonement theory in this brief note. But, I do think it is one reason why White Christianity has been able so tolerant of oppression is because we have separated the process of salvation from the real conditions in which we participate. 

Mark of St. Mark 

With a Kiss

For today, I'm going to take a break from my topic and share the meditation that I offered at last night's Maundy Thursday service at St. Mark Presbyterian Church in Newport Beach.  

While he was still speaking, suddenly a crowd came, and the one called Judas, one of the twelve, was leading them. He approached Jesus to kiss him; but Jesus said to him, ‘Judas, is it with a kiss that you are betraying the Son of Man?’ When those who were around him saw what was coming, they asked, ‘Lord, should we strike with the sword?’ Then one of them struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his right ear. But Jesus said, ‘No more of this!’ And he touched his ear and healed him.Then Jesus said to the chief priests, the officers of the temple police, and the elders who had come for him, ‘Have you come out with swords and clubs as if I were a bandit? When I was with you day after day in the temple, you did not lay hands on me. But this is your hour, and the power of darkness!’ 

Luke 22:47-53

Of all things, Judas betrays Jesus with a kiss. So, let’s talk about kissing for a moment. There is a strong tradition of kissing in the Scriptures and the history of the church, believe it or not, and it's a bit of a muddle. There are times when kissing seems to be a biblical sign of reconciliation. One notable example is when Joseph finally reveals his true identity to his brothers. They had treated him abominably years before and even sold him into slavery. Later in the story, Joseph yields astounding power and could easily have taken vengeance on them. Instead there is a moment when he reveals his identity and, instead of demanding obeisance from them, he weeps and kisses them all. Those are the moments when a kiss is really a magnificent gesture of peace. Perhaps that is why no less than five times in the letters of the New Testament, the writer says to the church, “Greet one another with a holy kiss.”  In addition, there’s that wonderful metaphorical reference in the 85^thpsalm that says, “Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; righteousness and peace will kiss each other.” In that moment, a ‘kiss’ signifies joining two things that belong together. It’s lovely. 

But, sometimes a kiss is not just a kiss. There is a brief moment in the book of II Samuel, when a general named Joab took a man named Amasa by the beard with his right hand – the fighting hand, a gesture of peace – to kiss him. What Amasa didn't realize is that in his left hand Joab was holding a sword, with which he killed him. Perhaps that story is what prompted the writer of proverbs to say with distrust, “Well meant are the wounds a friend inflicts, but profuse are the kisses of an enemy.” 

There are also some significant ways that a kiss is noted in the history of the church. An early church father, Justin Martyr, wrote that on Easter when newly baptized persons would take their place in the assembly, they would be welcomed with prayers and a kiss. And there is the story of St. Francis, who was told in a dream that the thing that made him shudder would be what he came to love. Shortly after, when he encountered a leper, he pushed past his initial revulsion, took the person’s hand, and kissed it. The next day he went to a leper hospital, gave a large sum of money, and kissed each person there on the hand. Francis demonstrates the power of a kiss to affirm someone’s dignity and value. 

In Luke’s gospel, there are several references to kissing before we get to our story. There’s the story of a woman at a dinner where Jesus was a guest and who tearfully washes Jesus feet and kisses them over and over. It was a gesture that Jesus noted when the host of the dinner criticized the woman. Then Jesus says that when he entered the host did not wash his feet or give him a kiss. Likewise, in the story of the Prodigal Son, when the son returns after treating his father so shamefully, his father sees the boy coming along the road, chucks his dignity aside, hikes up his robe, and runs to welcome him with a kiss. 

A kiss, then, can be a powerful symbol of welcome and intimacy. A kiss is a powerful symbol becauseit requires us to be vulnerable. It exposes us to one another – whether we’re talking about germs to which we are exposed or the flesh that we yield to the other or the feelings that we put out there that might not be reciprocated. But, the vulnerability of a kiss is also why it can be so misused in an act of subversion or betrayal. Nobody is so easy than to betray someone who is vulnerable and open. 

And that is the part of the human story that we are called to confront when we hear the story of Judas. He does not only betray Jesus – either out of a love of money, or because Satan entered him, or out of a frustrated impatience of waiting on Jesus to be the king he was hoping he would be – Judas does not only betray Jesus. He does it with a kiss. And it is a kiss that is forever etched into our minds as the ultimate betrayal. Under the guise of peace, friendship, love, welcome, intimacy – Jesus is betrayed. 

God have mercy. 

What's Next, pt. V

Many thanks to those of you who have reached out after last week’s post to share some of your ideas of what constitutes “White Christianity,” as opposed to Christianity itself. I will share some of those observations, but first please allow me to make a critical clarification. When it comes to the cultural dimensions of any expression of Christianity, I find myself convinced by Paul Tillich’s argument that “religion is the substance of culture; culture is the form of religion.” That is to say, I don’t think any presentation of Christianity is possible without some kind of cultural shape in which it is presented – starting with something as basically cultural as language itself, but extending far beyond that. Two of the early struggles of the early church were over the cultural form of the faith of those who follow Christ. The promise that the risen Christ gave to his disciples, according to Acts 1:8, was “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” As the church moved out of Jerusalem and then out of territory that was predominantly populated with Jews, one struggle was over how Jewish the Christian faith was supposed to be. The question often arose, “Do Gentile followers of Jesus have to be circumcised, or follow the laws of the Old Testament as they had been incorporated into Jewish life?” As one more recent scholar person put it, “Do you have to become Jewish before you can become Christian?” That’s a complicated question, with lots of different layers of answers, but my point for now is that this hotly debated topic among the early church was essentially a question of the substance and form of Christianity – what is the best cultural form to carry the message of the gospel? 

Another question of Christianity and culture, or the substance and form of the early church, was with regard to the Roman Empire. Many of the espoused values of the Christian message are radically different than the values of the Roman Empire – such as the paradoxical teaching of Jesus that to be the greatest one must become the least. Most of the Greek and Roman imperial thinkers would have thought Jesus foolish for choosing to endure the cross as a way of salvation. So, when the early church began to organize itself, it faced some questions – do we follow the hierarchical structure of the empire? Do we follow the structure of the temple? Or, is there a way of living into the egalitarian vision of Joel that Peter proclaimed on the Day of Pentecost, when the spirit would be poured out on every layer of society, empowering sons and daughters, young and old, enslaved and freed to speak with power and authority? My point, again, is that there is no “culture-free” expression of the Christian faith. But, there are times when the cultural expression of the faith can actually be contrary to the meaning and content of the faith. So, the reason for trying to identify the difference between “White Christianity” and Christianity itself is not to aspire to a Christianity that is free of particularity, but to challenge those parts of the faith that we have inherited that are actually contrary to the content of the gospel. 

Over the next few weeks I’ll be responding to some of the responses that I have received from readers about what constitutes “White Christianity.” And please feel free to send more. Here is a sample of some observations I received as well as my own questions that were provoked by them. 

- Is the almost mechanical understanding of “substitutionary atonement” a product of the rise of science and manufactory in 18-19^thcentury Western thinking?

- Is the emphasis on “individualism” – in phrases like “personal salvation,” “personal evangelism,” and the idea of a “personal God” – a reflection of Western culture? 

- So many of the stories of Jesus have him speaking outside, yet almost every gathering of Christian community today is indoors, often in ornate structures that are solely for that purpose. 

- Many elements of worship seem very constricted and controlled, from sitting and standing at certain times to only speaking or singing when instructed. 

- Why are we expected to be “apolitical” when the Christian community is gathered? 

- We are very word-centered, still, quiet, and compliant when worshiping together. 

- One reader also wants to explore how some parts of the church today have internalized their oppression – such as the Native American man that Dick Piper mentioned in last week’s post, who only found four-part harmonic hymnody to be appropriate music for worship. 

Ah, there’s a lot to see, a lot to celebrate, a lot to mourn, and a lot to learn here. Let’s keep walking together.

Mark of St. Mark

What's Next, pt.IV

I’m continuing my reflections on Miguel De La Torre’s book, Burying White Privilege: Resurrecting a Badass Christianity. You may recall that last week I talked about how difficult it is for those of us who have been raised in what De La Torre calls “White Christianity” to see the “whiteness” that we have received and which we perpetuate. Our friend Dick Piper wrote to me this week, saying kind words about that observation and confirming it from his experience as an American Baptist missionary among some Hopi and Navajo communities. Dick was once asked to lead a program on church musicianship. After some research, he found that Hopi and Navajo folk music used a pentatonic scale, with which he was familiar. So, in Dick’s words, “I decided to teach the course on church musicianship in their own idiom.” Imagine his surprise when one of the participants refused to continue with him, because he associated their folk music with the worship of kachina dolls. Again, in Dick’s words, “Only one form of music could be ‘Christian’ for him. That was the good old SATB white hymn tunes based on the diatonic major and minor scales.” 

What Dick says next is really key: “I’m sure the missionaries didn't specifically teach him that.  But that's what he ‘picked up.’ Cultural domination happens subtly but effectively.” 

Indeed, cultural domination happens subtly but effectively. That’s why we’re exploring this whole topic. It is all about bringing that which is subtle to the surface, so that when God begins doing a new thing among us, we will know what is the wine and what is the wineskin. I think we often hold onto something that is incidental, cultural, or simply familiar, while presenting it as if we are holding onto something essential. 

There is another reason for this work as well. Unless we are aware of the particularities of “White Christianity,” we will continue to promote cultural domination when we engage in evangelism, mission work, interfaith relationships, or community outreach – all in the name of the gospel. Without self-awareness, we would be denying the real work of the Holy Spirit among persons who are not like us and would miss how the Spirit uses others to help transform us. In other words, this inquiry is not about addressing “white guilt” and it is certainly not about trying to be “politically correct.” It is about trying to be in tune with what “new thing” God is doing. 

So, what are the particular peculiarities of “whiteness” in “White Christianity”? 

I have a few in mind, but I’m really curious as to what you think. What are some of the things that we have come to accept as simply part of the way Christianity works, which – in fact – may be more of a cultural thing that we’ve inherited than something that is germane to the Christian message itself? Would you be willing to send me some of your suggestions? If you can send them to me by Wednesday, I’ll have time to reflect on them by next Friday. I’m on a mission to become more self-aware and I hope that we can be more self-aware(collectively. To do that, your participation would be valuable. 

Thanks for your input.

Mark of St. Mark 

What's Next, part III

I am continuing the thoughts that I started over the last two weeks, in response to the Next Church national gathering in Seattle. 

I recently reviewed the book, Burying White Privilege, which has the profound subtitle, “Resurrecting a Badass Christianity.” The author, Miguel De La Torre, is a professor of social ethics and LatinX Studies at Iliff School of Theology, where our own Jennifer McCullough is currently enrolled. While speaking of “white Christianity,” I am going to use the pronouns “we” “us” and “our” in this essay. I am doing that, not because every person who is a part of St. Mark is white, but because our congregational culture is largely shaped by what De La Torre means when he speaks of “whiteness,” or “white Christianity.” It is an identifier that is meant to raise consciousness, not an accusation meant to raise guilt. 

One argument that De La Torre makes is that white Christians are unaware of how culturally specific our way of doing Christianity is. Let me see if I can illustrate with a recent experience. After the horrific attack on worshippers at the mosque in Christchurch, New Zealand on March 15, many New Zealanders performed – as an act of solidarity and healing – a traditional dance called the “Haka.” I was impressed with that tradition and looked it up on Wikipedia to read about it. Part of the essay said this: “From their arrival in the early 19th century, Christian missionaries strove unsuccessfully to eradicate the haka, along with other forms of Māori culture that they saw as conflicting with Christian beliefs and practice. Henry Williams, the leader of the Church Missionary Society mission in New Zealand, aimed to replace the haka and traditional Māori chants (waiata) with hymns. Missionaries also encouraged European harmonic singing as part of the process of conversion.” 

In other words, these missionaries saw harmonic singing – a specific cultural expression of music – as a Christian expression of music. Perhaps I should say, “as the Christian expression of music.” If I may use the distinction between ‘form’ and ‘content,’ hymnody was the cultural form in which the missionaries had experienced Christianity, so they proceeded as if this cultural form was necessarily bound to the content of the gospel itself. Given how heroically and sacrificially many missionaries went about their task, I can only guess that most of them genuinely saw no difference between the message of the gospel that they wanted to share and the specific form of expressing that gospel that they knew. De La Torre, by using the phrase “white Christianity,” enables us not to make that same mistake. 

The phrase “white Christianity” is a description, which can be neutral. The phrase “white privilege” is not neutral and points to the ways that white Christianity has used the Christian message to enrich and empower itself. Let’s see if we can get from one to the other. 

“White Christianity” can refer to a number of traditions that are harmless enough in themselves (and which fluctuate over time): Worship services that begin precisely at a certain time; one-hour time limits on worship; jello salads at potlucks; reading back and forth during worship; standing and sitting on cue; pipe organs; stained glass; wooden pews (which might explain the one-hour time limit); etc. Some of these traditions are deliberate and scripted; some are assumed and inherited. 

“White privilege” is a different matter. It happens when we privilege “our way” over other ways, such as assuming that chants are pagan and hymns are Christian. Privilege can also be radically inconsistent when legitimizing itself. Think of all of the arguments that white Christian missionaries made when demanding that native women from some cultures cover themselves. It’s interesting that many white Christians now reject those same arguments when we insist that women ought not to wear burkas or veils. In both cases, we are insisting that our cultural approach to attire gives us the warrant to critique a different cultural approach to attire. 

White Christianity can be a neutral matter when it comes to jello salads or wooden pews. It can be somewhere between repressive and oppressive when it comes to liturgical styles or “proper attire.” But, white Christianity also has a long history of outright evil masked as Christianity. When Europeans (and later Americans) were colonizing “new” lands, Christian missionaries were sailing on the ships alongside of traders and soldiers. When white Christians came to the Americas, the Christian message provided legitimation for “Manifest Destiny,” that encouraged them to eradicate natives and take their land. When the U.S. was building an economy based on slave labor, instead of liberating the captives, white Christians were trying to make them “Christian slaves.” We could see all of those actions as wrong-headed, but confined to the past. Or, we could see how those past traditions continue in the form of establishing “sweat shops” in other countries, scapegoating and underpaying farm workers in our own country, or snowplowing our children’s success by buying their way into elite universities. 

In the end, I need to continue studying Miguel De La Torre’s critique of “white privilege.” It is not about inflicting guilt. It is about liberating us – us! – from captivity to a cultural form that has arrogated itself as if it were the gospel itself. While part of that liberation is the awkward task of evaluating “white Christianity,” the hope is that the real power of the gospel can be found in us. I feel as if I am taking tentative baby steps on a long journey. Let’s do this together. 

Mark of St. Mark

What’s Next, part II

One of the fantastic presenters at the recent NEXT Church National Gathering was Jennifer Harvey, the author of Dear White Christians: For Those Still Longing for Racial Reconciliation. Harvey has also written Raising White Kids: Bringing Up Kids in a Racially Unjust America. I’ve only read Dear White Christians, so I’ll keep my comments directed to it today. We’ll explore Raising White Kids in the future. 

The argument of Dear White Christians is that the church needs to move from a paradigm of reconciliation to a practice of reparation. There’s a lot to unpack in that claim, so for a full description you’ll want to read the book itself (you can order it here). As I have processed it since reading it a few years ago, Harvey argues that if our approach to racial matters is only to achieve reconciliation, it blinds us to the past and the real effects of the past on racial relations today. It could be a way of saying, “Let’s all just get along” without addressing history, disparity, or deeply rooted biases that are at work. In response, Harvey argues that we need reparations, a way of significantly and symbolically addressing current disparity based on past racist actions. 

One example from history that Harvey cites is an attempt by a group of well-intended persons in the Episcopal Church in the 1960’s, who wanted to overcome the adage that “Sunday morning at 11:00am is the most segregated hour in America,” by integrating all of their churches. It was a noble idea, but simply integrating congregations was a disaster. It did not take into account that, because of centuries of exclusion, the black congregations in the diocese were smaller and had much humbler facilities than the historic white congregations. Integration meant that those smaller congregations were swallowed up and typically would be moved over to the finer buildings of the historic, larger congregations. Those historic congregations had fine choirs, pipe organs, and architecture that was perfect for a form of worship that was developed in England and then transported to the US, mostly among well-to-do persons. The worship and membership, simply by dint of tradition and overwhelming numbers, was manifestly a “white” way of being Episcopal, masked as simply being Episcopal. Not only were the particular gifts of the African American worship in those Episcopal churches lost, the specific role that those churches played in many African American neighborhoods was lost – all in the name of “color-blind reconciliation.” 

Harvey argues that too many approaches today – among all manner of churches – try to enact reconciliation without addressing the need for reparation. What she argues is that we need a serious reckoning with how the church historically has empowered a system that has exploited black and brown people, and to start with undoing what we can before we launch into holding hands and singing the “Barney” song together. (That last description is definitely on me, not Jennifer Harvey.) 

I think Dr. Harvey is really onto something significant. But, in saying that, here’s what I’m not saying. I not saying that white people or churches that are mostly white need to “fix” the situation. Our savior complex has been part of the problem all along. Instead, we need to listen. The original call for reparations came from the African American community and it horrified even the most progressive of white congregations. Most of those progressive white congregations were already hard at work “fixing” the situation. What I am hearing from Harvey’s work is that reconciliation – while a noble goal – requires us to address the historical injustices and stop pretending that they can be separated from the current situation. That’s where my mind is as I return to the book again. 

If you want to watch Dr. Harvey’s address, go to this page and scroll down to click “Tuesday AM Keynote #2.”

Mark of St. Mark

What's Next?

This week, I’ve been attending the annual gathering of an organization called NEXT Church in Seattle. When I mention the trip to people, the follow-up question is usually, “What’s ‘Next’?” I want to say, “Exactly! That’s what we’re asking!” On reflection, the question deserves a better answer. I’ll take a whack at it, but you may want to ask Jennifer McCullough, Deborah Mayhew, or Betty Christiansen - other St. Mark members who attended, along with about fifteen other persons from the Presbytery of Los Ranchos. I should add that Susan Thornton is a real behind-the-scenes asset to NEXT Church, bringing excellent organizational skills as well as the right spirit to her work on the leadership team. She makes our presbytery proud. 

You can visit the NEXT Church web site yourself by clicking here. According to our Mission Statement, NEXT Church is a purposeful relational community of Presbyterian leaders whose mission is to strengthen a vibrant and thriving PC(USA) that shares the good news of Jesus Christ in ways that matter to and have impact on God’s evolving world. There are two things in particular that I would lift up about this statement. First, being a “purposeful relational community” is a lot harder than writing a mission statement. It is a tear-filled journey of listening, taking responsibility for our complicity in structures that have systematically oppressed too many of God’s beloved children, and pleading for the grace to be transformed. It is learning the difference between “white guilt” and “lament.” It is creating space to discern who needs to relinquish their voice and who need to find theirs. It is leaning into criticism, instead of shutting it out, pushing back, or letting long-standing barriers keep it at a safe distance. None of that work is easy. 

Second, it may sound odd for us to describe the Presbyterian Church (USA) as “vibrant and thriving.” All of the statistics and church analysts have been screaming otherwise for four decades now. Those stats and wonks are not wrong. There is a lot about the church that is anachronistic and longing for those past “glory days” is an exercise in futility. But, those things about the church that are “dead and dying” (my attempt to find the opposite of “vibrant and thriving”) help us to see the biblical distinction between wine and wineskins. I truly believe that God has called the church into being, not as the end all of God’s reign, but as a provisional witness to a new way of being in the world, empowered by God’s own Spirit at work in our lives. Because this is a shared and gathered movement of God’s Spirit, the church takes institutional shape along the way (despite whatever aversion we may have to the word “institution.”) Those institutional forms, the wineskins, must always be adapting to the fresh new wine that God is pouring out. That is hard work, because familiar institutions give us comfort. But, new wine is potent and has a tendency to burst through old, dried, shrunken wineskins. New wine is “vibrant and thriving,” and I experience NEXT Church as a place where we are intentionally focused on how the new wine of God’s Spirit is calling us to discover new wineskins that enable us to carry this life-giving Spirit to the world. 

I don’t mean to beat the wine/skin metaphor to death. I just don’t know how else to describe how NEXT Church transforms me and calls me to a more enthusiastic embrace of what God is doing – even if it means that a cis-gendered, heterosexual, white, male, head-of-staff, large church pastor (I’m talking about me, by the way) needs to remember how to be a disciple in this conversation, not always the talking-head teacher. 

If you’d like to get a glimpse of a “vibrant and thriving” Presbyterian Church, click here, scroll down, and watch the video capture of the closing worship service. You’ll need to give yourself some time to savor each part. If you’d like to get a glimpse of the challenge of discarding the old wineskin in order to take up the new, click hereand scroll down to the keynote presentation by Tali Hairston. It is marvelous and challenging. 

Challenging. Now, there’s an apt descriptor for the NEXT Church annual gathering. As I continue to unfold some of the gifts that have been stuffed into my mind and heart, I will search for ways to share them with you. 

Mark of St. Mark