Progressive Evangelical Feed by IPC

Robert Carter, right, with Dan McCarthy, left, Bernard Lynch and John McNeill at a gay pride march in the early 1980s.

I spent a wonderful lazy Sunday afternoon, reading and catching up on articles from the New York Times while keeping an eye on C-span for the historic Health Care Reform Bill - which, thanks be to God - finally passed.

My excitement and joy were dampened, however, to read this obituary of Fr. Robert Carter, one of the bravest Roman Catholic priests I've ever known. He died February 22nd in the Bronx at the age of 82.

It was he, along with John McNeill, who started organizations like the National Gay Task Force (later the National Lesbian and Gay Task Force), as well as DignityUSA.

That was the early 1970s - right after the Stonewall Riots in 1969 - the very beginning of the Gay Rights Movement.

Let me help put this into some perspective and quote from the obituary:
Father Carter’s coming out was a very public one. In October 1973, Dr. Howard J. Brown, a former New York City health services administrator, announced that he was gay and that he was forming a civil rights organization for homosexual men and women. . . .

. . .An article about the group in The New York Times said: “A number of homosexual and lesbian organizations were represented on the board. One member was the Rev. Robert Carter, a Jesuit priest and professor of historical theology.”

Soon afterward he was visited by a subprovincial of the Jesuit order. “It seems that they were afraid I had had a psychotic break or something,” Father Carter wrote in an unpublished memoir.

Although there were calls for his expulsion by irate “Jesuits, parents and alumni of our schools,” Father Carter continued, he was not disciplined. In those days, the church and the Jesuit order were somewhat more accepting of gay people.Even so, it was not easy to come out as an LGBT person back in the day. It was even more difficult for a Roman Catholic - especially one who was ordained - to tell the truth about our lives and our love.

John McNeill's book was life changing for me and for many LGBT people. It was the first time anyone from the religious community spoke openly about being LGBT in a positive, life-affirming, intelligent way, which laid the foundation for a theology of sexual orientation upon which we continue to build today.

Mc Neill is quoted in the obituary as saying: I refer to him as the heart of Dignity,” Father McNeill, the author of “The Church and the Homosexual” (Beacon, 1976), said in an interview. “I was doing all the writing, but he was on the front line, meeting with people, counseling people.”

When the Catholic authorities said Dignity could not meet on church property, Father Carter celebrated Mass in apartments all around Manhattan. He led blessing ceremonies for gay couples. He testified in support of the gay rights law proposed by Mayor Edward I. Koch before it was passed by the City Council in 1986. He urged Dignity to march in gay pride parades and marched himself, in his clerical collar.
I am deeply indebted to Fr. Carter and all those men and women who took a huge risk and came out to themselves, to God, and to us when it was dangerous to do so. There is 'no greater love' than those who will lay down their lives for their friends.

Their actions helped the arc of history bend toward justice.

In his memoir, Father Carter wrote: “Since Jesus had table fellowship with social outcasts and sinners, those rejected by the religious establishment of his time, I consider myself to have been most fully a Jesuit, a ‘companion of Jesus,’ when I came out publicly as a gay man, one of the social rejects of my time. It was only by our coming out that society’s negative stereotypes would be overcome and we would gain social acceptance.”Thank you, Fr. Carter. Thank you for your life, your work, and your witness.

Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Well done. Rest well, now. Your work on this side of Paradise is done. May the memory of your life continue to inspire the work for justice and bring us ever closer to the Realm of God.

This one's for you, and all those brave souls who took a courageous stand for justice and inspired us all
They Are Falling
By Bernice Johnson Reagon

They are falling all around me
They are falling all around me
They are falling all around me
The strongest leaves on my tree

Every paper brings the news that
Every paper brings the news that
Every paper brings the news that
The teachers of my life are moving on

Oh, death comes and rests so heavy
Death comes and rests so heavy
Death comes and rests so heavy
Your face I will never see, never see you anymore

But I'm not really gonna leave you
I'm not really gonna leave you
You're not really gonna leave me

It is your path I walk
It is your song I sing
It is your load I take on
It is your air I breathe
It is the record you set that makes me go on
It is your strength that helps me stand

You're not really gonna leave me

I have tried to sing my song right
(I will try to sing my song right)
I have tried to sing my song right
(I will try to sing this song right)
I have tried to sing my song right
Be sure to let me hear from you
May your soul and the souls of all the faithfully departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace and rise in glory.

“Envy and Gratitude.”
(Isaiah 43:16-21 Philippians 3:4-14; John 12:1-8)
V Lent – March 21, 2010
The Episcopal Church of St. Paul, Chatham, NJ
(the Rev’d Dr.) Elizabeth Kaeton, rector and pastor

How odd, in that wonderful way of gospel oddness, that we should be visited by Mary and Martha on this last Sunday before Holy Week begins.

Indeed, we are witnesses, in this gospel account, of a dinner served in their Bethany home in honor of Jesus and Lazarus, brother of Mary and Martha and dear friend of Jesus, who – oh by the way – Jesus has just raised from the dead.

Indeed, some biblical scholars point to the raising of Lazarus from the dead after three days in the spiced tomb as the breaking point for the Pharisees. Mind you, it was not that Jesus actually raised Lazarus from the dead; rather, that he performed this miracle on the Sabbath.

Imagine! How uncouth!

Nevertheless, it was the ‘last straw’ – the one that finally broke the back of the Pharisees and set in motion the events leading up to the betrayal, trial, and crucifixion of Jesus.

That couldn’t have happened, however, without a little help from one of the disciples – namely, one Judas Iscariot – who must have also been feeling a tad anxious about this ‘final straw’.

St. John, our evangelist this morning, is none too kindly in his reporting of Judas. You can practically hear him sneer as he writes, “(Judas) said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief.”

Perhaps this was so. Perhaps it was not.

Here’s what I think: I think Judas was scared. And, overwhelmed.

Scared about the fallout he knew would happen after the raising of Lazarus from the dead.

Overwhelmed by the lavish generosity of Martha – who prepared a banquet in honor of her brother and Jesus, and Mary – who took a pound of costly perfume and, with it, anointed the head and feet of Jesus and then, in an outrageous act of sensuality, wiped his feet with her hair.

Oh, yes, and Judas was envious. Yes, envious.

As Judas considered what Jesus had done for his friend, and watched Mary of Bethany lavish Jesus with expensive perfume, he was filled with envy.

Psychologist Melanie Klein wrote a book entitled “Envy and Gratitude” in which she posits that these emotions are polar opposites of each other.

More on this later, but sufficient to say that as I read this gospel account, I see Judas filled with envy – which was his breaking point. And, I see Mary filled with gratitude, which was her turning point.

We all have our breaking points – which can also be turning points. It’s a choice. The miracle of the raising of Lazarus was not what broke Judas Iscariot. I think he had come to expect miracles from Jesus.

What he couldn’t expect, what he couldn’t imagine, was the gratitude that flows from the transformation of the heart when one experiences a miracle in the name of Jesus.

That’s the real oddity – the problem with this morning’s gospel – as we watch gratitude vs. envy as a response to the miracle of the Gospel of Christ Jesus. It is an oddity of human nature – to watch extraordinary human behavior and treat it as odd.

The truth is that we are all capable of extraordinary behavior. It’s a choice we make. Dr. Klein says that when this happens, we either strive to emulate it by being generous in our gratitude or, thinking we can’t possibly attain it, become envious and allow our envy to try to destroy it.

Envy and Gratitude. They are two sides to the same response – two polar opposites of human nature – both of which arise from passions that are stirred deep within us.

One can lead us to prodigal acts of generosity, the other can lead to destructive behavior like gossip or complicity with those in power who can destroy. Both result when our hearts are stirred with passion.

Next week we will observe what the calendar notes as Palm Sunday – but our liturgical calendar notes as “The Sunday of The Passion of our Lord.” It’s not just about palms – those are just the props of the drama.

It’s about passion. The real unfolding drama of the Passion of our Lord.

We often come to equate passion with suffering, and part of that is true. Passion almost always invites sacrifice of some measure. It often doesn’t feel like sacrifice because, well, we’re doing want we’re passionate about – what we love to do.

And that’s the point of the suffering – the passion – of Jesus: Love. Deep love. Love that is forgiving. Love that is reconciling. Love that is willing to sacrifice everything for something more. Something bigger. Something greater than anything we could ask for or imagine for ourselves or others.

We think of these stories as ancient and therefore, not really relevant in our lives. I mean, how do we really know that they are true? Oh, they are good stories. Inspiring stories. But, hardly about things that happen now.

I want to tell you a story which came out of the reports of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa, which was established after the end of Apartheid in that country as a way to give both the victims and the perpetrators a chance to be heard so that healing might begin to happen.

One of the accounts is that of an frail, elderly Black South African woman who sat and listened carefully as one, white South African man named Mr. Vanderbrook, confessed to the savage torture and murder of this woman’s son and husband a few years earlier.

It was reported that the elderly woman was summoned – indeed, forced – to witness this torture and murder of her family, who were burned alive.

She also listened to the last words of her dying husband who said, amazingly enough, “Father, forgive them.”

During the Truth and Reconciliation hearings, the woman was asked ‘how do you believe justice should be done to this man who has inflicted such suffering on you and so brutally destroyed your family’?

The old woman replied that she wanted three things. “I want to be taken first to where my husband’s body was burned so that I my gather up the dust and give his remains a decent burial,” she said. She stopped, collected herself and then went on.

“My husband and son were my only family. I want secondly, therefore, for Mr. Vanderbrook to become my son. I would like for him to come two times a month to the ghetto where I live and spend a day with me so I can pour out to him whatever love I still have remaining in me.”

“Finally,” she said, “I would like Mr. Vanderbrook to know that I offer him my forgiveness because Christ died to forgive. This was also the wish of my husband."

"So I would like now for someone to lead me across the courtroom so I can take Mr. Vanderbrook in my arms, embrace him and let him know that he is truly forgiven. “

The assistants came to help the elderly woman across the room and, as they approached, it is reported that Mr.Vanderbrook fainted.

Those in the courtroom, all family and friends of those victims and perpetrators of unspeakable violence and oppression, began to sing ‘Amazing Grace’.

That is a true story. It was taken from the reports of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa. The breaking point for the elderly South African woman should have been the brutal death of her husband and son. Instead, it became a turning point – a time when she turned all of her sorrow and grief, her pain and anguish into an act of radical love and forgiveness.

I don’t know what happened to Mr.Vanderbrook after he fainted in that courtroom. He had some choices to make about what he was going to do with his life. How he was going to receive the gift of sacrificial love, fueled and inspired by the sacrificial love of God in Christ Jesus.

I want to suggest that there are parts of each one of us in each of the characters of both of the sacred stories we heard this morning.

There is part of that old South African woman in each of us – we recognize her, but only dimly. Some of us are stunned by her generosity and wonder if, under similar circumstances, we could emulate what she did.

Some of us, inspired by her, seek to do just that.

Others of us want to dismiss this as ‘saintly behavior’.

I want to suggest that if we dismiss the story as something unbelievable – unattainable – we are only doing so because we are envious of her gratitude and generosity, just as envious as Judas was of Jesus and Mary.

Here’s the oddity of the gospel: There is an old South African woman in you and there is an old South African woman in me.

There is that part of each of us that knows that, without someone upon whom we can pour out whatever love we have remaining in us, our entire personhood is so diminished, we might as well be dead from living with the constant pain of grief and sorrow.

And there is a Mr. Vanderbrook in me and an Mr. Vanderbrook in you – so overwhelmed by forgiveness that the only thing to do is collapse into unbelieving while others look on with equal astonishment and sing Amazing Grace.

I pray Mr. Vanderbrook learned to anoint that old South African woman with his tears and allowed her to anoint him with her forgiveness and love.

There is a Martha of Bethany in you and a Martha of Bethany in me – who pour ourselves and whatever little we have into preparing outward and visible sign and symbols of our gratitude – like Babbette’s Eucharistic feast.

There is a Mary of Bethany in you and a Mary of Bethany in me – who is so overcome with gratitude that we become prodigal in our gratitude and perform unspeakable, outrageous, almost scandalous acts of generosity.

There is also a Judas Iscariot in you and a Judas Iscariot in me, whose turning point is a breaking point and we allow ourselves to be consumed with envy. Instead of trying to emulate behavior we admire, we try to diminish it, or discard it or destroy it.

We allow envy, like a thief, to steal our potential for gratitude and acts of kindness, generosity and even potential nobility.

It is a choice we have. It is a choice we make. Every day.

We can choose to be filled with gratitude or we can choose to be consumed by envy. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell the difference, because both come from a place of deep passion. But, we can and do make that choice.

As we prepare for The Passion of our Lord and begin to enter into Holy Week, I have a few questions for us to consider.

What do you do to express your gratitude for the passion of our Lord for you and what God has done in your life?

What have been the ‘last straws’ in your life? What have been the breaking points in your life? Have they also been turning points?

Have you, like Mary, chosen the better portion? Or, have you allowed envy to lead you to destructive behaviors like gossip and slander, rumor and innuendo?

We admire acts of social service – but only from afar, as long as they don’t come to our back yard, and then the NIMBY effect (Not In My Back Yard) kicks in.

Have you – knowingly or unknowingly – participated in an act that caused the destruction of someone else – or the destruction of the potential to help others?

If you have, I want to encourage you to consider the source of your passion and ask you to consider whether or not you are responding in gratitude or envy.

Don't worry about being forgiven. That's already happened for you on 'that old rugged cross'.

Where is the passion for The Passion in your life? Where is the passion – the gospel fire – that lights the path you travel and shows you the way to the reconciling truth of God in Christ Jesus?

Do you allow that passion to be the breaking point or the turning point in your life?

God is about to do a new thing in our lives, as Isaiah foretold. God is always doing a new thing, if we but pay attention.

The Sunday of The Passion of our Lord is upon us – the ‘last straw’ of God’s reconciling love in Christ for us. It is both a breaking point and a turning point in salvation history.

It is a mere seven days away. Easter will follow seven days later.

Odd, this juxtaposition of events. And yet, this Way, this Truth, this Light, this Sacred Story is nothing less than the path of our salvation in Christ Jesus.

We can choose to take it or not.

Judas Iscariot or Mary of Bethany? Envy or gratitude?

What will you choose?

Amen.

My own blog is "neoorthodoxology." Check it out: http://neoorthodoxology.blogspot.com/

For anyone who is interested, this is what I believe:

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I love it when a good plan comes together from out of the blue.
I've been needing this day off. Bad. The only real way I can have a day off is to get outta Dodge. And, the best place I know outside of Dodge is, of course, Llangollen, our wee cottage on Rehoboth Bay.

As I was driving down late Thursday afternoon, I called my dear friend, Mark Harris, who lives in Lewes. Just on a whim. Thought we might get together for a cup of coffee and shoot the breeze about - what else? - The Episcopal Church.

I've known Mark since 1986 - back in the day when he was National Coordinator for Campus Ministry and I was a brand new Chaplain at The University of Lowell.

I took one look at him, fell in love, and there's never been any other man for me. We keep in touch from time to time. It had been a few months since I had gotten one of his wonderful hugs, so I thought I'd ring him up and see about fixing that.

What I didn't know is that, in the few months seen I'd seen him, he'd become "The Old Man of the Sea."

That's him. Up there. In his new - well, to him - boat.

That's the new 'boy toy'. The Amity is her name.

Isn't she sweet? Got lots of character, don't you think? Like her new captain.

We met at our favorite coffee shop in Lewes, the Azafran, got our beverages of choice and were off on a tour of the back side of Cape Henlopen.
We watched a few momma osprey getting their nests together, spotted a magnificent Blue Heron, and marveled at the Very Ugly turkey vultures who seemed to be having a small political caucus on the side of the water.

Meanwhile, we chatted away about our families - grandchildren, mostly. And, what our respective spouses and children were up to these days. Oh, yes. And a bit about The Episcopal Church.
But mostly, we were just two friends of very long standing (I refuse to say 'old'), who were out enjoying the beautiful day. Temperatures in the low 70s. Not a cloud in the very blue sky. A slight breeze in the air. Very calm waters.

It felt like the weather on Rehoboth Bay was redeeming itself after three Nor'easters in six weeks time.

And here I thought I would just lounge about in my PJs all day.

And now I'm off to meet up with my friend Wayne to have dinner at Dos Locos - only the best restaurant in Rehoboth Beach.

Alaskan King Crab Legs are half price tonight. Served with lots of drawn butter, a side of yummy salad and some amazing rice.
I'll leave you with an image of the marina where I hope to meet up with The Old Man of the Sea in another month or so for another wonderful little ride on The Amity.

It just promises Spring, doesn't it?

Life is good. Especially when you aren't expecting it.

I saw this 30 second clip just before the news of the consents to the election of Mary Glasspool's election was released.

I'm obviously very impressed.

Oh, I'm not talking about the technical stuff, although that is impressive - well, to me at least, for whatever that is worth.

I'm talking not about the medium but the message.  And, how timely it is. 

Ancient, but timely.  Words that are centuries old but still ring true.  Still serve as an important reminder about what is at the core of our faith.

I'm struck, in this video, by the clarity of the message of our identity as Christians who are Episcopalians.  It is a timely message in Lent which calls us to return to - or rediscover - our own houses of worship in order to celebration Easter Resurrection in our communities of faith.

There are already those of the "Chicken Little School of 'orthodox' (note: small 'o') Anglican Theology" who are wringing their hands over the Glasspool election and consent process and moaning that the Episcopal part of the Anglican sky is falling - has fallen, and can never again get up.

"We have erred and strayed like lost sheep," they wail. Others make mean-spirited remarks about how The Episcopal Church ought to be punished ("disciplined"). Some continue to work to make that a reality - mostly through the "Anglican Covenant".

What The Episcopal Church did in consenting to the election of Mary Glasspool is to affirm the core values of our faith. We not only affirmed our faith, we put that faith into action.

That's always the hard part, isn't it?

Blah, blah, blah FAITH. Blah, blah, blah LOVE. Blahdiddy, blahdiddy, blah MERCY. . . JUSTICE. . . .PEACE.

Living those values, putting them into action, taking a stand for what we know about ourselves and what we believe about God, always involves risk. Always involves sacrifice. Always involves a journey to what Martin Smith calls "the crucifyingly obscure boundaries of our faith."

In my experience, the paradox of that journey is that it always leads to a clarification process from which we emerge clearer about who we are and whose we are. It's akin to a 'forty days and fourty nights' experience in the wilderness. We understand who our people are and what God is calling us to do.

It's a journey deep into the four foundational cornerstones of spirituality: identity, mortality, intimacy and vocation. The process of 'coming out' out as an LGBT person is a profoundly spiritual process. It is about diving deep, exploring these four corners of our faith and then surfacing.

It is a spiritual baptismal process of water and fire and spirit from which one emerges with the kind of conviction and commitment to continue the journey in faith. By faith. Through faith.

"I am a new creation in Christ" says St. Paul. With all due respect to Himself, I'd like to rephrase that to read "I am a renewed creation in Christ."

When you have come through that kind of clarifying process, you are more of who you always were - who you were created to be - just clearer. Stronger. More authentic. With greater integrity.

Here's what I think: I think The Episcopal Church, as an institution as well as the Body of Christ, is 'coming out' - to itself and to God and to each other and to the world.

LGBT people know this journey well. We have been blessed that we might be a blessing. I do believe it is our gift to the church. It is our particular blessing of and to the church.

And, the church is finally ready to receive it. The sacred covenants we make between ourselves for faithful, lifelong monogamy will, one day, be blessed by the church. But that will only be because the church has finally recognized the gift of our blessing to the church - as well as the blessing of the sacred vows we make to each other before God.

I believe we will emerge from this time clearer, stronger, and better prepared to begin to catch up with God's reconciling mission in the world, which has been going on since before the advent of time.

We are, as an institution, moving through a prolonged season of Lent and into the joy of an Easter celebration.

Oh, it ain't over till it's over, and we've got a few more hurdles to jump before we land on Canaan's side. But, we're on our way.

In 1997, at the Integrity triennial Eucharist in Philadelphia, I was privileged to havepreached the sermon. The Eucharist was held just before the special hearings on the Authorization of Rites of Blessing for Same Sex Couples.

Yes. 1997. It took twenty years, from the founding of Integrity, to get to that point - and, you might have noticed, we didn't win. Indeed, we lost that resolution by one vote. Yup. One.

We've been at this a long, long time. Don't even try to start with me about this being "a new thing" or, "but...but...but we haven't done the theology."

Just. Don't. Start. Okay?

I will never forget the sound of that great church, Christ Church, Philladelphia, filled with close to 1,000 people - and much more than a few bishops - singing with heart and soul, mind and body: "We're gonna keep on walking forward. Keep on walking forward. Keep on walking forward. Never turning back. Never turning back."

Six years later, we elected and consecrated the first honestly, openly LGBT bishop in The Episcopal Church. Seven years after that, we elected, have consented to and will consecrate the second honestly, openly LGBT bishop in The Episcopal Church.

We have set our faces toward Jerusalem and decided to follow Jesus. We haven't arrived, but we are on the journey. We're not out of the woods, but we are on the path. We have won the battle but the war is far from over.

Even so, I believe that it's a great time to be a Christian. It is a privilege and a joy to be alive and to have been part of a movement which has led us to this moment of justice.

Even though I know the 'other shoe' has not yet dropped, I have nothing but hope in my heart and joy in my soul.

It's a great day to be an Episcopalian.

It will be an even greater day when the election and consent process of an LGBT person does not make headline news.

Then we'll know that we are a truly, fully, a renewed creation in Christ Jesus.

O my God! O my God!! O my God!!!

That's about all I can say right now.

When I try to talk about it, I start to weep and get all girly-burbly.

Not to worry. I'll find my voice tomorrow. Right now, all I can say is O my God!

I'd say "A*****a" but we can't in Lent, so I'll just say this:

WOO-HOOOOO!!
INTEGRITY CELEBRATES THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH'S SECOND OPENLY GAY BISHOP AND PROCLAIMS THERE IS NO TURNING BACK ON FULL INCLUSION

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE


Integrity joins with the Diocese of Los Angeles in celebrating today's announcement that sufficient consents have been received from both Standing Committees and bishops with jurisdiction to the election of the Reverend Canon Mary Glasspool as a bishop suffragan. We look forward to the May 15th ordination service where Canons Bruce and Glasspool will become the 16th and 17th women bishops in the history of the Episcopal Church and to the work and witness they will offer on behalf of the gospel, not only for the Diocese of Los Angeles but for the whole church."Integrity continues in its commitment to turn the resolutions of General Convention into realities on the ground for Episcopalians in every diocese," said the Reverend David Norgard, Integrity President. "Today's affirmation of the election of a superbly qualified candidate as a bishop in the Episcopal Church is good news not just for those who work for the fuller inclusion of the LGBT baptized, but for the whole church.""Today the Episcopal Church said 'Amen' to what the Holy Spirit did in Los Angeles in December when we elected Mary Glasspool," said the Reverend Susan Russell, chair of the Diocesan Program Group on LGBT Ministry and Integrity's immediate past president.. "I've never been prouder to be an Episcopalian or a daughter of the Diocese of Los Angeles--where we are ready to turn this election into an opportunity for evangelism.""Integrity is part of a nationwide campaign called 'Believe Out Loud'--resourcing congregations to explicitly welcome LGBT people into their work and witness" said Louise Brooks, Integrity's Communication Director and a resident of the Diocese of Los Angeles.  "We are proud to be partners with those across this church and across the country committed to working on both national and local levels for full inclusion. And we believe the election of Mary Glasspool will be an inspiration, not just to those working in our churches, but to those standing outside of them wondering if they are truly welcome. The answer is, "Yes--come and see!""As openly gay and lesbian people become a common and unremarkable aspect of the cultural landscape," said Norgard, "more and more bishops will ordain LGBT persons, more vestries will elect them to serve as rectors, more congregations will elect them to vestries, and most importantly, altar guilds will be setting up weddings for two grooms or two brides. We are past the turning point and the forecast for full inclusion in the Episcopal Church is brighter than ever before."The ordination service for the new bishops suffragan will be held on Saturday, May 15, 2010 beginning at 1:30 p.m. in the Long Beach Arena in Long Beach CA. For more information, contact:Louise BrooksDirector of Communications, Integrity tvprod@earthlink.net626-993-4605

Top o' the mornin' to ya! Be gosh and be gorah, but ain't it a beautiful day!

Here are three jokes to send you off on your way into a day that would have made St. Patrick bind himself and his Breastplate to this day forever!

The first is from me files - a favorite of Ms. Conroy.

Seamus suffered a serious heart attack and had open heart bypass surgery. He awakened from the surgery to find himself in the care of nuns at the Dublin Catholic Hospital.
As he was recovering, Sr. Brigit asked him questions regarding how he was going to pay for his treatment.
“D’ye have health insurance?”
Still groggy, Seamus said, “No health insurance.”
“Ah, sorry, son,” Sr. Brigit said sadly, “Any money in the bank, then?”
“No, no money in the bank,” Seamus said in a raspy voice
“Pity,” said Sr. Brigit, “Well, d’ye have a relative who could help you?”
Seamus brightened and said, “I have a spinster sister, who is a nun.”
Sr. Brigit became agitated and announced loudly, “Nuns are not spinsters!Nuns are married to God.”
Seamus smiled at St. Brigit and said, “Aye, then send me bill to me Brother-in-Law.”
This next one's from my British friend, Carrie. A wee bit of an 'insider's joke'.

Two friends from Lambeth England and New York were walking around Dublin cathedral admiring the architecture.
'Are you enjoying your visit to Ireland?' asked a young priest.
'Very much, Father, but we can't get on with the whiskey. It's far too strong for us,' they said
'Why so?' asked the priest.
'Well, we went to some Craic on Saturday night, tried some Paddy's best and crashed out unconscious.
Sunday morning we woke at 5 a.m. bright as a button. We went to 6 o'clock mass, 7 o'clock mass, 8 o'clock, nine, ten and eleven o'clock mass.
Then we went to afternoon Rosary, downloaded the Pope's latest sermon from St Peters, followed the Stations of the Cross, got the latest version of The Priests safely onto our iPods and finally wound up at the local Catholic church for Benediction!'
'So what's wrong with that?' asked the priest.
'We're Anglican!' came the reply.
Finally, one that is a wee bit naughty. From Doug. Of course.

An Irishman is drinking in a New York pub when he gets a call on his cellphone. He hangs up, grinning from ear to ear, and orders a round of drinks foreverybody in the bar because, he announces, his wife has just produced a typical Irish baby boy weighing 25 pounds!
Nobody can believe that any new baby can weigh in at 25 pounds, but the Irishman just shrugs, "That's about average in Ireland, folks... like I said, my boy's a typical Irish baby boy."
Congratulations showered him from all around, and many exclamations of "WOW"! were heard. One woman actually fainted due to sympathy pains.
Two weeks later the Irishman returns to the bar. The bartender says, "Say, you're the father of that typical Irish baby boy that weighed 25 pounds at birth, aren't you? Everybody's been making bets about how big he'd be in two weeks. We were gonna call you....... so how much does he weigh now?"
The proud father answers, "Seventeen pounds."
The bartender is puzzled, and concerned. "What happened? He already weighed 25 pounds the day he was born."
The Irish father takes a slow swig from his Guinness, wipes his lips on his shirt sleeve, leans into the bartender and proudly says, "Had him circumcised."
Erin Go Braugh!

I misplaced my appointment book sometime this past weekend.

I'm not ready to slit my wrists. Yet.

So far, I've made it through the first day without getting a nasty phone call ("We were supposed to meet an hour ago. Where the hell ARE you?") or a worried phone call ("Are you okay?").

Neither have I missed an important meeting - at least, not that I know of.

I suspect, before the week is out, I will. It's bound to happen.

Daylight Savings Time has also whipped my butt this year. This time, we didn't "save" time. We "lost" an hour. We'll "save" it again in the Fall.

You remember It's "Spring ahead, Fall back."

As I recall the explanation from my grammar school days, DST was conceived as a way not to save time but candles. It lengthened the hours of day light, thereby reducing the time spent in the dark and the need for 'artificial light'.

I seem to remember Ben Franklin having something to do with it all, he of the old adage, "Early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise".

It's an interesting idea to "save time". Except, we haven't lost or saved anything. It's the same hour, just moved to different places on the Ledger of Time. The Balance Sheet stays the same.

So far, the one thing that has actually "saved time" has been misplacing my appointment book. I suddenly have the whole week ahead of me with nothing planned. Or, at least, that's the illusion.

I was able to remember an important lunch date today, which tickled my memory into yet another appointment which follows that luncheon meeting. I know that Vestry meeting is Wednesday because I've been working on the Agenda.

But, I think I have some lab appointments this Thursday because I believe I have my annual physical next week. Sometime. I think it was Wednesday. If memory serves. Which it does less and less these days.

So, I'm spending lots of time calling places to confirm possible appointments. It's very embarrassing and humbling, but everyone seems to understand.

Indeed, I posted something on my FaceBook page and so far about 50 people have made comments. My lament has obvious struck a familiar note with lots of people.

It's been fascinating. Basically, there have been three types of responses.

I've been scolded or chided for not keeping my calendar on my iPhone, and to "back up, back up, back up" everything on my computer.

Some have registered surprise that I don't already do this. I don't. I like my paper calendar. It tells me who's on the Calendar of Saints and there's lots of room to write little notes to myself. I suppose I may have to start using my iPhone, too. But, I'll always keep my appointment book. Always.

I've also been consoled. "We're not supposed to spend time in Purgatory before we die" wrote one understanding soul.

That's a good description of the anxiety and worry I've been feeling, worrying about whether or not I'm pissing someone off or disappointing someone else.

Others have written, "You're FREE. Allow the mystery of life to take you where it will. Enjoy the adventure."

Lovely thought. Oh, how I wish I could. See also Purgatory above.

This idea of mystery has also given rise to the former Roman Catholics on the list who have encouraged me to pray to St. Anthony.

"St. Anthony, St. Anthony, look around. Something's lost and can't be found."

And you thought the 'lost and found department' beyond the Pearly Gates was all about Souls. Apparently, St. Anthony is kept quite busy helping us retrieve things here on earth as it is in heaven.

I personally like the prayer to 'find' a parking space. Our kids taught it to us years ago. "Hail Mary full of grace, help me find a parking space."

Funny, right? What's really funny is that it often works.

Ms. Conroy doesn't keep an appointment book. She also doesn't keep a check register. But, she can tell you - to the penny - how much she has in her checking account and she never misses an appointment.

Can you hear my envy?

We've had this discussion long ago. I once missed a meeting and, upon hearing about it after the fact, got out my appointment book, wrote in the meeting and then promptly crossed it out writing a note beside it "Missed."

Ms. Conroy chuckled. "What are you doing?" she asked, with that amused tone in her voice that wasn't so amusing to me.

"Well, if I write this down, I can keep track of my time."

She chuckled that annoying superior chuckle again. "What are you laughing about?" I retorted. "You don't even keep an appointment book."

"That's right," she said, she of the alcoholic parents who often "forgot" to pick her up after school or celebrate her birthday. "That way, I don't have to be disappointed."

That's when it came to me. It's all about the illusion of being in control, isn't it? I write things down and then cross them out. She doesn't write them down at all, so if it didn't happen, it wasn't supposed to anyway.

"Oh, the games people play now. Every night and every day now."

We don't save time. We can't. Oh, we try, but as the popular saying goes, "It is what it is." We all have the same number of hours in the day - in darkness or in light - and we make choices all the time about how to "spend" that time.

An appointment calendar simply allows me to "keep track" of the time I have. Which I do with some success. Until I misplace my appointment book - which I've only done one other time in twenty-four years of ordained ministry - and then everything seems out of control.

One person wrote on my FB page, "You didn't lose your appointment book. It lost you. Now you need to go find it."

I like that idea. Gives me the illusion of still retaining some semblance of my dignity in the face of constant humbling apologies.

So, if I have an appointment with you in the next few weeks, would you write to me and let me know? And, if I've missed an appointment with you, please accept my sincere apologies.

I've now got to spend some time with my iCalendar, filling in as many dates as I can remember, so I can upload it to my iPhone so I will regain my sense of control and composure.

I've got to spend time to save time - and face! Until my appointment calendar finds me again. Which, I have a feeling, it will. I think I remember where I left it. I would know for sure if I had written it down. In my appointment calendar. Which has left me.

What silly, silly creatures we are! I suppose this is why God created us in the first place.

The amusement value of the human enterprise alone is priceless.

An Interview with Brian McLaren
by Melvin Bray

This is the fourth of 4 posts containing the full text of Melvin’s interview with Brian.

Melvin: If readers walk with you, I think they will see that the book has a definite logical progression. Just as I neared chapter 18 “Can we find a better way of viewing the future?” I started to feel that the ability to quest with you hinged on a particular presupposition: whether or not one sees herself participating with God or waiting on him. Another way of putting it would be whether one sees the biblical narrative as closed or open for further submissions. And that is exactly what you end up talking about at that point, which hearkens back to the “what is the gospel?” question. How important is the matter of participation to the quest you advocate?

Brian: There are so many levels to your question. Let me just address one. The modern mindset is deeply formed by Sir Isaac Newton and the idea of laws or mechanisms of nature. In that model, the universe is a machine, and everything is determined by mechanistic processes. For modern Christians, God is the great engineer, the designer and machine operator who makes the machine and pulls levers and turns switches to make things happen. Even in psychology and sociology, whether it’s Freud or Skinner or Marx, human beings are to some degree part of a mechanism and their behavior is more or less determined by impersonal mechanisms.

But that model of the universe has been fading for a hundred years. It’s as if our theology is still Newtonian, and we haven’t begun to learn from Einstein and Heisenberg and Hubble, not to mention Kuhn and Polanyi and Ricouer and others. In this post-Newtonian world, we are participants, subjects, agents, creative partners … not objective observers or passive objects. It’s no surprise that in a Newtonian framework, we saw the Bible and God and the future in a deterministic way, but now, I think, we need to be liberated from those constraints and see a fuller range of understandings in Scripture, and in life.

Melvin: What makes these various positions you take in the book different than what one might label a “post-modern creed”?

Brian: Thanks so much for asking this, because it’s really important. First and foremost, I’m not offering the positions in the book in that way at all. In most cases, I’m simply reporting on what’s already happening, what’s already being said among those who are on a quest for a new kind of Christianity. In a few cases, I may be offering something with some fresh elements to it, but when I do so, I’m offering it like an opening volley in tennis – not as a slam to win the game, but simply as my contribution to an ongoing conversation.

It’s interesting that the Bible itself doesn’t give us creeds. It gives us stories and poetry and letters and other forms of literature, from which people constructed creeds for various reasons at various times. Perhaps there are postmodern creeds to be written; I’m not sure. In some ways, the very idea seems oxymoronic. At any rate, my focus in this book is on raising worthwhile questions that will promote constructive conversations that will in turn foster friendships as we move forward on the quest or journey of faith. That may be a quest that never ends. After all, what limit could there be to God’s unfolding creativity and goodness? Will we ever be able to say we have fully explored it?


Melvin Bray is chief bbq taster on the Emergent Village green and the coordinating author of The Stories in Which We Find Ourselves: A Bible Story Project to write/collect re-tellings of the biblical narrative that resonate with emerging, missional and/or ‘post-ism’ sensibilities.

Sr. Joan Chittister is my hero.

Her spirituality is not only the best of catholic monasticism, it is the best of the remnant of post Vatican II theology - the stuff I cut my religious teeth on when I was a child and a young woman.

She was one of my role models for ordained leadership in the church. Without knowing it, she taught me what it might mean to be a woman and a priest in God's 'one, holy, catholic and apostolic church'.

She continues to provide clear, intelligent, articulate leadership that models what it means to be a Christian and a member of a religious organization - and not just the Roman branch - that is often a barren, dry wasteland of examples of Christian leadership.

My dear friend, Nigel, sent me this article last night in which Sr. Joan takes on Glenn Beck's latest idiotic rant about 'social justice'. Beck is on the record as saying, "I beg you," he said, "look for the words 'social justice' or 'economic justice' on your church Web site. If you find it, run as fast as you can. Social justice and economic justice, they are code words (for socialism.) Now, am I advising people to leave their church? Yes!"In Sr. Joan's latest column at NCR, she writes about the work of Sr. Marie Claude Naddaf, a Sister of the Good Shepherd, from Syria.

Sr. Joan reports that Sr. Marie Claude is in this country to receive the U.S. State Department's "International Women of Courage Award." Given to 10 women around the globe who have shown "exceptional courage and leadership in advocating for women's rights and advancement," the awards purpose is to support women who are working for the equality of women everywhere. And any woman who has ever spoken up for women's equality in any arena that counts -- in politics, in business, in law, in the home, in the church -- know exactly how much courage that requires. Even now. Even here.I hope you read the entire article and learn about this woman's incredible work with those who are 'trafficked women' - women and girls who had been sold across national borders into the sex slave trade or seduced into it on the promise of a job or simply abducted into it off the streets as children.

When Sr. Joan told Sr. Marie Claude about Mr. Beck's statement, she reports the following: I heard Marie Claude Naddaf, a Sister of the Good Shepherd, gasp on the other end of the phone. "Noooooooo," she squealed. "This is the work of God. The spiritual life gives us the energy we need to do justice. There is no contradiction! It's a circle!"

Then she said, "Invite this man to come and see me in Syria. I will show him." And one more thing. "Tell your government that it must do something to help the Iraqi refugees in Syria. They need resettlement programs and financial support for widows and children." Her meaning was clear: The United States started the war that put millions of people adrift "but Syria has borne the whole expense of it."

From where I stand, it's clear why the Glenn Becks of the world would not want to hear anything about 'social justice' from a church. Certainly not about women and war. Or about Sister Marie Claude either. Let's hope he takes the invitation.
I do, too. I'd love to hear Mr. Beck's reaction to his visit with Sr. Marie Claude.

Now, that's one time I just might turn my dial to Fox News.

Oh, and about that poster which I nicked off the blog of a Roman Catholic Right Wing nut's blog (Yeah, they got them, too. They're everywhere, it seems.).

One word, sir: The church can make you a nun (or a priest), and it can even make you an impersonator of either role, but there's something about being a follower of Christ that does not make you a 'reasonable person'.

Not when it comes to social injustice.

The artistic power of Liz Lemon Swindle’s emotionally charged image rests in the father’s face and the intense grasp of his hands. The true spiritual intensity evident in the father’s embrace of his wayward son represents God’s unconditional love for us. The Prodigal Son is a reminder of God’s amazing ability to forgive and restore us, and of the human need for family and grace. (Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32)

Lent IV – Refreshment/Mothering/Rose SundayMarch 14, 2008 – St. Paul’s, Chatham(the Rev’d Dr) Elizabeth Kaeton, rector and pastor
It has been argued, and rightly so, that this gospel passage (Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32) has been misnamed “The Prodigal Son.” Prodigal means: ‘lavishly, wastefully generous’ – to such an extent that it inspires awe and marvel. It is exceptional generosity. However, the influence of this gospel can be felt in the more common definition of a ‘prodigal’, more commonly understood as someone who foolishly spends his/her parent’s money.

There are, in fact, two prodigals in this story – the son who was a prodigal child, and, if you pay close attention to the whole story, you will also notice that the father is fairly prodigal himself. He is lavish, even wastefully so, in his generosity to his son.

Some scholars have argued that, if the son was foolish, it was because, well, the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. I mean, imagine giving your child half of his inheritance – before you die! What did the father expect from his son? On the one hand, it seems foolish and wasteful. On the other, it is an incredible, marvelous, unconditional, trusting act of generosity.

Jesus told this parable not so we could pass judgment on the prodigal son, or to compare and contrast between him and the son who was faithful and dutiful. Rather, Jesus told us this story so we could learn something more about the father. The One he knew as ‘Abba’, Father.

God loves us with a prodigious love. God is wastefully lavish, with a generosity beyond measure – so much as to inspire awe and wonder and marvel. God loves us and trusts us even though God knows that we are often foolish, squandering the spiritual inheritance we have from our baptism in Jesus on things profane and secular – even ‘dissolute’. God loves us unconditionally, always forgiving us, always welcoming us back into the fold with great rejoicing and celebration.

Which is a good thing, because we – you and I – tend to be prodigal sons and daughters of a most prodigious God. So, it is argued, this gospel story should probably be named, simply, “The Prodigals” – because it is a story about both sides of what it means to be ‘prodigal’ in our lives in Christ. Prodigal like the father. Prodigal like the son.

It is fitting that we speak of prodigious love on this fourth Sunday in the Season of Lent. It is also known as “Refreshment” or “Mothering” or “Rose” Sunday – a time when we are allowed a little lighthearted break from the solemnity and penitence of Lent. Hence, the Rose colored vestments and, today, a special celebration of two of this church’s prodigal daughters – Ruth Pring and Betty Williams – for whom the newly renovated sacristy is named.

I didn’t know Ruth Pring, but some of you remember her. She was active in the Altar Guild at about the same time Betty Williams was – and both women served under the Altar Directress of all Altar Directresses – Nathalie Richardson. For some women in this parish, that name can still strike fear in the tender corners of the heart.

When Betty spoke of Nathalie, two things would happen before she told the story. First, one corner of her mouth would give way to a grin while the other corner tried desperately to maintain decorum. It never worked. The second thing to happen was that Betty would remind you that her name was not Natalie but NaTHalie. I suppose that was so because somewhere in Betty’s mind she believed that Nathalie was still around, and if she was, she wanted to make sure, if she were within earshot, that she didn’t do anything to annoy her. I can imagine that even a scowl from Mrs. Richardson could wilt the strongest psyche.

I suspect Betty, and perhaps Ruth, often felt like the Prodigal Daughters to a Prodigal Altar Guild Directress – but that had more to do with the foolish part of the definition of prodigal than the generous part. How amazing, then, that they also became so wonderfully, lavishly generous.

I understand. I was once a Prodigal daughter on the Altar Guild at the Cathedral Church of St. Luke in Portland, ME – which was the congregation that supported my ordination process. Ruth Pillsbury was ‘Directress” of the Altar Guild there, some say, since before Christ wore sandals. I don’t know this to be true but the mythology I remember was that she had a military background. She certainly ran the Altar Guild like a drill sergeant.

When you were on Ms. Pillsbury’s Altar Guild, all altar linens were to be washed using a specific laundry detergent (Octagon Powder, as I recall) which she measured out in the precise amount she considered sufficient to accomplish the task and distributed to new members of the Altar Guild at the beginning of the month in paper bags, the top folded in two crisp folds and stapled, lest their be any accidental mess. You considered yourself off probation when you no longer got a monthly bag of Ms. Pillsbury’s ‘soap powder’. That probation period could take as much as a year – or two.

She expected the corporal and purificators to be washed, starched, folded and ironed with the same precision as she folded your soap powder bag. If not, she had absolutely no problem returning them to you to be redone. She never spoke a word. She would simply inspect them silently and hand them back to you. You understood immediately and complied until you got it right.

She hated waste in any form and was especially distressed if the clergy had consecrated too much wine for communion at the Eucharist, insisting that we consume any leftovers in the sacristy after mass as part of our duties.

One day, in a bit of a flummox because I was doing double-duty – chalice bearer and altar guild – the sleeve of my alb caught the rim of one of the beautiful, large, ornate silver chalices, spilling the consecrated wine all over me. I gasped as the wine soaked through my white alb, through my clothes and even onto my skin. A heavy silence filled the room. Miss Pillsbury pulled herself around to look at me, growling in complete horror, “That’s the consecrated blood of our Lord!”

I was like Dorothy, standing before The Wizard, my knees knocking. Everyone else seemed frozen in place. Even the two young acolytes, two tow-headed boys who normally stood together with goofy smiles like Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee were turned into pillars of salt. One gasped and the other said under his breath, “Uh-oh!” Even the Dean, John Beaven, a man for whom the word ‘affable’ was surely created, stood silent and pale, silently wishing himself to dissolve into the corner he had pressed himself.

I was instantly reduced to tears – not an easy task, then or now. Miss. Pillsbury, who had put her hands on the counter, her head bowed as if in silent prayer, now turned her head slightly sideways to look at my tear-stained face. My voice cracked as I sobbed, “What am I to do, now, Miss Pillsbury?” It was more a plea than a question. I hadn’t whined like that since I was 4 years old.

Then, a miracle. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I might not have believed it, but it was there, on the stony face of Miss Pillsbury, just as surely as there was the stain of consecrated wine on my alb. It was a hint, a glimmer, a mere shadow of a smile that slowly crossed her face, ever so slightly lifting the corners of her mouth and brightening her eyes.

She looked away again and then back at me, sideways, cleared her throat and then said, “I suppose we’ll have to burn you.”

The Dean began to giggle, which signaled Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee to guffaw. I felt my initial confusion melt into relief and managed to smile through my tears. That would be enough of that. Miss Pillsbury cleared her throat again, and we all snapped back into work-mode, smiling secretly behind her back. Now and again, someone would walk by and poke my back or put their hand on my shoulder in a silent gesture of sympathy.

The story went forth and it was said that this was the one and only time Miss Pillsbury actually smiled while ‘on duty’ in the sacristy, remembered as an amazing act of prodigious generosity.

You know, they just don’t make ‘em like they used to. They don’t make them like Nathalie Richardson. Or Ruth Pring. Or Betty Williams. They are a generation of Prodigal women who loved and served a Prodigal God by loving and serving on the Altar Guild. You may have heard that Bobbi Villanuava died this week after a long battle with Alzheimer’s Disease. She loved serving on the Altar Guild and she loved serving with Betty Williams. So did Eleanor Kernaghan, whom you may remember died several years ago. So, in fact, did we all. We all miss Betty terribly.

Now, Bobbi and Eleanor were very different than Nathalie or Ruth or Betty but every single one of those women were prodigal in their love of God and their service on the Altar of this church. So are the women – and the one man – who presently serve on this Altar Guild.

In many ways, it is a foolish, lavishly wasteful ministry. Tending to starching and ironing purificators that will be used once and then need to be laundered again when a paper napkin might do just as well. Trying to discern the cruet for the wine from the cruet from the water. Enduring snide comments about the white communion wine. How do we know when to put out more wafers for consecration? How can you tell if the wine has been consecrated? And, however do we know the liturgical color of the day?

And, for what? Does anybody notice? Does anybody care? I can’t tell you if God cares – well, not about the minutia and the details. What I know is that God cares deeply and loves it when we love generously, lavishly, wasteful, because that’s exactly how God loves us. And you know, sometimes we don’t notice and sometimes, it seems that we don’t even care. And yet, God loves us anyway. Sometimes, even more.

I don’t know this for sure, but I suspect there’s a special place in heaven for former Altar Guild members. I suspect Ms. Pillsbury is there, sharing a laugh with Nathalie and Ruth and Betty, who are joined by Eleanor and, this week Bobbi. All the fair linens are starched to a fare-thee-well and all the silver and brass are polished to a wondrous gleam.

They are, I’m quite sure, admiring our newly renovated sacristy from above, where there’s a place for everything, and everything is FINALLY in its place. There are even places for things we didn’t know we needed to have a place for. I imagine Betty is looking down, shaking her head and saying, “Why couldn’t they have done that when I was around to enjoy it?”

We are, each one of us, prodigal sons and daughters of a most Prodigal God. For love – like vocation, as Gail Goodwin reminds us (and Jon reminded us last week) – makes more of you than you thought you could ever be. Nathalie and Rruth and Betty are now larger than life because of their prodigal love of a prodigal God made manifest in their vocation in the Altar Guild.

As St. Paul reminds us, “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new.” And let the church say, “Amen”.

A few weeks ago President Obama had a health care reform conference with Democrats and Republicans to try to reach a bipartisan consensus on a health care reform bill.

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I've stopped watching the 11 o'clock news before I go to bed. I sleep much better now.

I think I'm going to switch off my RNS, ENS and other, secular news feeds on my computer. I think it might improve my digestion.

This morning's news contained this little tidbit. To wit:
The fallout from the growing Catholic sex abuse scandals finally reached as far as the pope Friday when it was revealed that Benedict XVI knew a priest was a pedophile in 1980 but approved a stint in therapy that allowed him to continue in the ministry, where he remains today.Apparently, Gerhard Grube, the Monsignor at the time who was under the ecclesiastical authority of then Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, ". . .takes 'full responsibility' for the decision to return the priest to pastoral work."

The good Monsignor, now 81,said in a statement released by the archdiocese that he had not made the future pope aware of his decision because "it was the kind of call that was often left to his underlings".

I don't even know where to begin.

Let me start with an admission that, yes, Virginia, there are pedophiles in the world and many of them seem to be Roman Catholic priests.

And yes, I do believe that celibacy is a vocational call. It may not be lifelong. It may be periodic or episodic. But it is, I think, an authentic vocation that can be healthy and life giving - the source of enormous compassion and generosity. It is the same path of all true, authentic vocations.

That being said, I think some pedophiles are born "intrinsically disordered". Others, I think, suffer from "arrested development" as a result of the combined trauma of their own childhood sexual abuse which, cast off and abandoned to the outer darkness of ignorance, secrecy, cover-up and betrayal, is further perverted by the "unnatural" state of imposed celibacy.

By "arrested development" I mean that these men, having been sexually abused at a young, tender age, and filled with unattended and unhealed trauma, shame, guilt and confusion, are unable to find healthy sexual expression with another human being - male or female - of their own age.

I'll leave it to the experts to determine whether it's nature or lack of nurture.

I'm not a psychologist or psychiatrist, and I don't play one on TV, but that is how I have made sense of some of the men I have known from my Roman Catholic childhood who have been convicted of heinous crimes against young boys and girls who were part of their flock.

The memories haunt me.

I remember turning almost green with envy when "Sister" would call up a young male classmate because "Father" wanted to see him in the sacristy. Eventually, these boys would be hand picked by Sister for "junior seminary" because it was determined that they had "a call" to the sacred order of priests.

I would sigh loudly and shuffle my feet under my desk as a way of registering my disgust that, just because I was a girl, I couldn't help Father at the altar, much less in the sacristy with the holy tasks of priesthood.

Indeed, no female was ever allowed near the altar. That's because, being female, we were "insufficient matter" - which meant we didn't have "the right stuff" to be in the service of God. Besides, we were "unclean" once a month, see? Can't have anything "unclean" near The Holy.

Except, of course, if you were celibate like the nuns and the old post-menopausal ladies who were "allowed" to be part of the Altar Guild. Then, you could clean up the sacred dishes. You know. Because that was "women's work" anyway.

What haunts me is the look I would get from some of those boys as they left their seat in the classroom to meet with Father in the sacristy. "Shut up" one would occasionally say under his breath as he passed my desk.

It wasn't until one of those boys was arrested for sexual relations with a minor that I remembered. And, I understood.

The look in his eye and the tone of his voice finally reached a place of truth in me. I've been haunted by him - and others - ever since.

That boy was no pedophile. Neither was the man he had become. Oh, I suppose that's the technical, medical word for it. And, truth be told, it really doesn't matter what it's called.

It is wrong. Heinous. Evil. It is a perversion of both the Golden Rule ("Do onto others what you would have done unto you.") and the so-called Silver Rule ("Do not do unto others which you would not have done unto you.")

The Ethic of Reciprocity only works when the person attempting to live by this rule treats all people, not just members of his or her in-group, with consideration and kindness. It is perverted and tarnished when used to perpetrate harm.

I suppose when the Gospel of Jesus Christ is held hostage by the lust for power of a hand full of men, resplendent in red or purple shirts who dress up in long white dresses and gold-threaded brocade even as they say "Blessed are the poor . . .", what you get is perversion up and down the line of apostolic succession.

The Shoes of the best Fishermen and women have always had mud on them. Working in the Fields of the Lord will do that.

This ain't mud. This smells to high heaven.

The stories of sexual and physical violence perpetrated on young, innocent, often vulnerable children give me nightmares and make me sick to my stomach. And yet, turning off the news feed on my computer or my TV before bedtime is not going to change what has happened. Neither will it change what needs to happen.

A good place to start is for the Pope, his College of Cardinals as well as his Bishops, Priests and Deacons to make a public act of repentance, a full confession of their complicity in these heinous crimes, an apology to the hundreds of thousands of victims with the provision of some means of restitution, and a solemn vow that measures will be taken to insure that nothing like this ever happens again.

For God's sake, stop "investigating" the theology and ministry of Religious Women who live in community and begin to get your own houses in order, boys.

Instead, let's have an investigation of the connection between sexuality and spirituality. Let's stop holding our impulse for divine intimacy hostage to misguided, ignorant human purity codes.

Let's work on healing the ancient rift between sexuality and spirituality so that we might better understand and more ethically use the divine gift of sexual expression for the good of all of God's creatures and creation.

Yes, let's see sexuality as being a 'procreative' act - which doesn't mean that sexual activity is limited only to those times that will lead to the procreation of children; rather, it means that it is for ("pro") - and honors - God's creation.

Perhaps if we were more pro-creative and less recessive - indeed, more proactive and less reactive - the church - Roman, Orthodox, Anglican and Protestant - might be better able to do the work of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Which includes ALL. Not just some. Young and old. Rich and poor. Male and female. Straight and not so straight. Beautiful and not so beautiful. (Thanks to Desmond Tutu for that.) All. All. All.

Perhaps more of us would have muddy - not mucky - sandals.

Better yet, perhaps we'd decrease the opportunities and chances of doing harm to "the least of these", for Christ's sake.

I know I would sleep better at night.

An Interview with Brian McLaren
by Melvin Bray

This is the third of 4 posts that will contain the full text of Melvin’s interview with Brian. Check back soon to read the rest of the interview.

Melvin: There is a point in the book where you actually recommend that certain people put the book down for a while, if they are unprepared to deal with the psychic or relational dissonance that quest would undoubtedly cause. You have a remarkable ability for remembering and accommodating what it was like on the other side of quest. A mutual friend, author Will Samson (Enough: Contentment in an Age of Excess) recently suggested that this is because you are at heart an evangelist, but has evangelism not historically involved a crucial sense of urgency? Is there not a sense of urgency or imperative in the questions around which the book is organized? Is there some theological or other rationale for your less intense—if that’s the right phrase—approach to faith?

Brian: You’re right. There is a real sense of urgency. I was in Palestine recently. You can see there how Christian Zionism in the US, which is based on nearly everything I’m trying to counter in the book, could easily increase terrorism and help plunge the whole world into nuclear war – which could too easily dominate and take the lives of our own kids and grandkids. Its adherents don’t intend this, I hope! But they don’t seem to realize how easy it is for their Armageddon prophecies to become self-fulfilling. They don’t realize the unintended consequences when they focus on texts promising land to Israel without noticing all the other texts that demand ethical accountability for how Jewish people treat non-Jews. In so doing, their approach does to Palestinians what the colonists and cowboys did to Native Peoples, what Apartheid did to South Africans, what anti-Semitism did to the Jews in Europe throughout Christian history, what whites did to non-whites before Civil Rights – and sadly, since. Those are serious things, and I feel great urgency on behalf of the people who will suffer because of entrenchment in an old kind of Christianity.

Not only that, but many Western Christians, by failing to take the questions I’m writing about seriously, too often are unintentionally driving their kids and neighbors away from the faith. By doing so, their churches are shrinking and wrinkling, as I say in the book, and there’s real anxiety about the viability of many of our churches as a result. But even more, think about where their entrenchment leaves their kids and grandkids and alienated neighbors and friends. These people who feel squeezed out of the church are ones I feel especially called to help, and so I feel intense urgency about this.

But here’s the thing for people like me who feel so much urgency. If we go around grabbing people by the lapels and screaming, we’ll elicit reaction rather than reflection, and we’ll sabotage the very kind of rethinking we want to encourage. So we need to distill our urgency into gentleness and patience. That’s not easy!

On a more personal level, here I am, fifty-three years old, and I have spent part or most of every single day of my adult life – I don’t think this is an overstatement – grappling with what it means to be a faithful follower of the Lord Jesus Christ. It’s an obsession of sorts. If it’s taken me decades to have the courage to break out of certain boxes and grapple with these questions and perhaps get a few small glimpses of insight, how can I be so uncharitable as to expect others to get on board right away? That’s why I spend the last couple chapters of the book urging people to be careful and patient and wise in the ways we try to stimulate rethinking and conversation in this quest.

Melvin: I imagine the following in the “Can we find a way to address human sexuality without fighting about it?” chapter will be the cause of some consternation. “By coming out of the closet regarding their homosexuality, gay folks may help the rest of us come out of the closet regarding our sexuality…. As in so many areas, we must blaze a new trail into that terra nova beyond the binary and reactionary ideals of sexually repressive fundasexuality on the one hand, and sexually unrestrained hedonism, on the other.” When you came out on the sexuality question, you came ALL THE WAY OUT, didn’t you? Why put so much on the table (as if to say “this issue is way more complex than we want to make it”)? Yet after unpacking a boatload, you don’t actually answer the question of the chapter (at least not to the degree to which you respond to the other questions of the book). Do you at this point have any inkling of a way forward? If so, why not print it yet?

Brian: Well, I’m sorry you didn’t think that I answered the question, but I can see why you might see it that way. I ask, “How can we address divisive issues of sexuality without fighting and dividing,” and instead of offering a “how to” kind of answer – I do something more like that in response to the tenth question, actually – I tried to do two other things. First, I tried to show how the standard “the Bible says it, I believe it, that settles it” approach isn’t as faithful as it sounds. I did a close reading of the second half of Acts 8 to show that there is another line of data in the Bible in conversation with the six Bible passages normally cited on homosexuality. In other words, to answer “How can we address sexuality without fighting and dividing,” my first answer is by getting beyond a proof-texting approach.

Second, I tried to show how even if one takes an absolute, irrevocable stand for or against homosexuality, one isn’t out of the woods, because we have a lot of other sexual issues confronting us. Either we’re going to grind ourselves into the dust with one sex-fight after the other – biting and devouring one another, as Paul said in Galatians – or we’re going to have to calm down and realize that we’ve got a major, complex, and ongoing challenge on our hands, a challenge that will require us to do a lot more than choose sides on issue after issue.

Actually, there’s a third thing I tried to do in this chapter. I folded in another question I believe would make the top twenty if not the top ten: the question of anthropology. Issues of sexual identity pile a load of bricks on the straw-laden camel of our traditional view of the human being as a ghost in a machine. So I’m suggesting we can’t really resolve the sexuality issues until we reopen our understanding of the human being, who we are, what we’re about, what constitutes us. And our answer is going to have to go a lot deeper than the dualistic ghost/soul/spirit in machine/animal/body model that we inherited.


Melvin Bray is chief bbq taster on the Emergent Village green and the coordinating author of The Stories in Which We Find Ourselves: A Bible Story Project to write/collect re-tellings of the biblical narrative that resonate with emerging, missional and/or ‘post-ism’ sensibilities.

That line, of course, is from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, written in the 1600s:

JULIET says:
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.Yes, I know. What matters is what something is, not what it is called.

I've been thinking about this as I've considered this story about Rabba Sara Hurwitz.

Here's the story in a nutshell (as it were):
Hurwitz, an Orthodox Jew and one of three leaders of an Orthodox congregation in Riverdale, was ordained last year by Rabbi Avi Weiss. At the time the Jewish world took note, though it wasn’t until she was given the titular equivalent of rabbi that the controversy really began.

At her ordination last year, Hurwitz was given a newly-created title, the acronym Mahara”t, which stands for Manhigah Hilchatit Ruchanit Toranit, “Leader in Halakha [Law], Spirituality and Torah,” but it never caught on in the wider Jewish world. It was a term no one had ever heard before, and it was difficult to remember.

In addition, many women (and some men) argued that there’s something offensive about giving a woman a different title than accrues to the men who complete the same course of study.

As Hurwitz recounted, “When I walked into a funeral home, it was easier to say ‘rabbi’ than explain what a maharat is and go through the whole discussion.” So her mentor, Rabbi Avi Weiss, announced early this year that henceforth Hurwitz would be known as Rabba (It’s actually the term most Israeli women rabbis use for themselves, though it’s largely unknown outside of Israel.).

But the head of Agudath Israel, the Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) denominational body in the United States, put Weiss in cherem—a kind of communal excommunication—for giving Hurwitz the rabbi-equivalent title this winter.

“These developments represent a radical and dangerous departure from Jewish tradition,” the organization said in a prepared statement, “and must be condemned in the strongest terms.” Any congregation served by a woman in a rabbinic position, they said, cannot be considered Orthodox.

Rabbi Weiss has struck a deal with the Rabbinical Council of America and agreed to stop conferring the title “rabba,” though Agudath remains unsatisfied. Whether or not Hurwitz will keep her title remains to be seen.A "radical and dangerous departure," eh? which "must be condemned in the strongest terms".

And you thought the Anglican Communion had problems!

Mind you, her title is not "Rabbi" but the feminine equivalent of the title.

So, taking a cue from Mr. Shakespeare, does it really matter what her title is, as long as she's able to fully function in her role?

As you consider that question, allow me to point out that there are, I think, parallels in other issues.

A few years ago, one of the members of my congregation, whom I dearly love, said to me, "Elizabeth, I understand your passion for marriage equality, and I want you and Barbara to have full access to all your civil rights, but (you knew there was a 'but' in that, didn't you?), the problem is the word 'marriage'. If you had all the same rights, would you be satisfied with some other word for it?"

I looked at him, sighed and asked, "Would you?"

I hate to be simplistic, but I think both issues have to do with the prevailing religious and cultural paradigms of power. Both are very male, very heterocentrist, and firmly fixed in the psyche of our religion and society.

On one level, it's all pretty silly, isn't it? I mean, Shakespeare is right, isn't he? In the end, what difference does it make, really? What matters is what something is, not what it is called. Isn't that right?

So, to argue from the other side of the question, what difference does it make if Sara Horowitz is called "Rabbi"? What matters is what something is, not what it is called. Goose/Gander, Sauce/Title . . . . .

Just the other day, I got a call from a friend who retired to a diocese in the Southwestern part of the country. She's finally found an Episcopal church that suits her and is just settling in. The rector has hired a woman as his assistant who is reportedly "young and filled with enthusiasm and energy."

I asked for her name, thinking I might know her. "It's a small church, after all."

I heard my friend sigh deeply. The long silence was heavy.

"Father Kate," she said.

Now it was my turn to be silent. "Excuse me?" I said, finally.

"Oh, yes," said my friend, "No joke. It's Father Kate."

Oye vey!

Then again, isn't this like the communion wafer calling the matzoh bread flat?

'Father' - for centuries and in many places, still - is the Christian version of 'Rabbi'. Both terms that have exclusively male characteristics in their DNA.

Indeed, the little joke I sometimes make is that the church is the only place I can go and put on a long, white dress and be in traditional men's clothes. Every Sunday is, in its own way, a little liturgical drag show.

I've gotten some flap about my email. "motherkaeton@ . . .". There's a long story to that, which I won't go into here, but bottom line, it was a little joke between Ms. Conroy and me, having a little something to do with how 'mother' has become half a word.

It's not so funny to some of my friends and colleagues - almost exclusively women - who have raised more than an eyebrow of surprise and/or distress.

Part of the problem lies in the title 'priest'. I mean, male or female, Bishops are called "Bishop Jones." Deacons, too, and chaplains, as well as doctors, lawyers, judges, mayors and military personnel enjoy a gender-free title that can easily precede their first name or surname.

No one is called "Priest Smith."

I always introduce myself as "Elizabeth". The parents at St. Paul's long ago wanted some kind of title for the children to use so as to convey a sign of respect. So, we settled on "Reverend Elizabeth". Sounds warmer and is more grammatically correct than "Reverend Kaeton."

Sometimes, in very formal circumstances, I'm called "Dr. Kaeton". But mostly, it's 'Elizabeth' - which is what God calls me. It's also what my mother insisted I be called which people - usually those I've just met (and mostly men, come to think of it) - try to turn into a nickname like "Liz" or "Betty".

If you dare break my mother's hard and fast rule and try to "diminish" (in her words) my name, well, I can only warn you that you will have to deal with her in the afterlife - or risk that her spirit might just come to wherever you are and smack you right upside the head.

All kidding aside, there is something about a threat to the dominant power paradigm in all this that keeps niggling at me.

I keep hearing the words of Frederick Douglass, abolitionist and women's suffragist. I haven't thought it quite through just yet, so I'll leave you with his words:
"Let me give you a word of the philosophy of reform. The whole history of the progress of human liberty shows that all concessions yet made to her august claims, have been born of earnest struggle.

The conflict has been exciting, agitating, all-absorbing, and for the time being, putting all other tumults to silence. It must do this or it does nothing.

If there is no struggle there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground, they want rain without thunder and lightening. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters."

"This struggle may be a moral one, or it may be a physical one, and it may be both moral and physical, but it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will.

Find out just what any people will quietly submit to and you have found out the exact measure of injustice and wrong which will be imposed upon them, and these will continue till they are resisted with either words or blows, or with both. The limits of tyrants are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppress.""Power concedes nothing without a demand.
It never did and it never will."
Is all this controversy about a title the surface or presenting issue of a deeper power struggle? Or, to coin a phrase from Shakespeare, is this 'much ado about nothing'?

Indeed, as Juliette says:
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;Except, of course, when the name of the rose is 'Inequality', from the variety of 'Prejudice' in the Garden of Patriarchy.

An Interview with Brian McLaren
by Melvin Bray

This is the second of 4 posts that will contain the full text of Melvin’s interview with Brian. Check back soon to read the rest of the interview.

Melvin: Speaking of the first two or three questions, you seem to have finally embraced as your own the evolutionary reading of Genesis espoused by your character Neil Oliver in The Story We Find Ourselves In. In the preface of the former book you seemed to hedge by characterizing the ideas of the book as one possible approach. What changed? What made this the time to hinge the credibility of the emergent quest on a scriptural reconciliation of creationism and evolution?

Brian: Although I do believe this book makes an important contribution, I hope the credibility of the emergent quest won’t hang on me alone, and certainly not on this single proposal! But I can see why you would point this out as being important, because the traditional reading of Genesis that I was taught as a child, and which is still faithfully followed by many good people of a conservative bent, requires us to see a world created in perfect stasis that has fallen into evolution and change. But that goes against everything we observe in real life. Whether we’re talking about astronomy, physics, geology, biology, paleontology, ecology, or anthropology, we don’t see stasis anywhere, now or in the past. What we see is a pattern of unfolding, expansion, growth, diversification, novelty.

I feel like James in Acts 15: it makes no sense to put a conceptual stumbling-block in the way of people who are seeking God, to say, “You can’t follow Jesus unless you subscribe to an outmoded way of looking at the cosmos.” To do so would be like requiring people to believe in an earth-centered universe or a flat earth simply because that’s how our ancestors understood things. Thank God, we are given not only permission but encouragement in the Scriptures to seek wisdom, and that includes wisdom about how the universe works. Evolution and emergence seem to be integral to God’s creative genius, and that fills me with a sense of wonder and worship.

It’s interesting you asked what changed, because a few friends have said that the tone or voice of this book seems different – maybe more confident, less tentative. Part of that, I suppose, is simply that I’m ten years older now than when I wrote my first book. And part of it is a gift from my critics during those ten years. When I wrote The Story We Find Ourselves In, I was proposing a number of important things, including a less literalistic way of reading Genesis. If that seems like I was hedging – well, for me, it was being appropriately tentative, in the proposal mode rather than the polemical mode. Then I waited and listened to see how people – including critics – would respond. If I’m wrong about something, I certainly don’t want to be the last to know, so I listen to serious critique of my work – by serious, I mean charitable as opposed to mean-spirited and intelligent as opposed to reactionary. The mix of critical and constructive responses served to increase rather than reduce my confidence.

At heart, what’s at issue is this: do we bring to the Bible the assumption that it describes a changeless, timeless system, more like the Platonic ideal, or do we bring to the Bible the assumption that it describes a story, a narrative. Most of us were given a pre-critical bias in the system direction, but now, whether it’s through the influence of postliberals like Hans Frei, or postconservative Baptists like Jim McClendon, or postmodern philosophers like Paul Ricouer, we’re seeing that the Bible works a lot better when read as a narrative rather than a system.

Melvin: You do a lot of teaching in the book about church history, geopolitics, philosophy, theology, anthropology. Is there a conscious reason you avoid explicitly acknowledging your use of literary analysis to arrive at many of your interpretations? I kept wondering if readers without your and my language arts background or interest would recognize why the interpretations you posit might be more credible than others. You seem to rely most heavily on your audience’s ability to follow your overall train of thought, rather than teaching what figures of speech, symbols, themes, allusions etc. are and how they function in any great piece of literature.

Brian: Well, perhaps my approach will turn out to be a mistake, but I generally try to understate the scholarly underpinnings for my work. You’ve heard the saying that some good ideas experience “death by a thousand qualifications,” and the same can be said for “death by a thousand footnotes.” My background, as you know, was literature, so I could talk about structuralism and post-structuralism, about phenomenology and logical positivism and the linguistic turn and language games, about reader-response theory and speech-act theory and the second naivete and aporias and so on, all of which I find fascinating. But I tried to let all that be like the submerged part of the iceberg, in hopes that the visible part would float for the average reader who doesn’t have time to do all the reading I’ve done before I write – just as I don’t have time to do all the reading the various specialists and scholars whom I respect have done before they write.


Melvin Bray is chief bbq taster on the Emergent Village green and the coordinating author of The Stories in Which We Find Ourselves: A Bible Story Project to write/collect re-tellings of the biblical narrative that resonate with emerging, missional and/or ‘post-ism’ sensibilities.

My dear friends and spiritual mothers in the process of my Coming Out just told me about this new film Gen Silent which is scheduled to be released in May.

Indeed, Sheri and Lois are featured in this promotional clip of the film "Gen Silent". I'm so proud of them, I could simply burst.

The shocking, sad story needs to be told. The LGBTQ generation who worked and struggled for our civil rights, to whom we owe an enormous debt of gratitude, are now being forced back into the closet in order to survive.

I encourage you to watch this 4 minute clip and visit the website. I'm hoping to be in Boston for the premier - to support two women without whose support I wouldn't be here today.

We've come a long way, but we still have so much farther to go.

If you haven't been part of it before, it starts today.

Welcome to the journey!

by David Park and Dan Ra

Editor’s note: This article was originally attributed solely to David Park. It was actually a collaborative effort between David and Dan Ra. The article has been updated to reflect this.

David: The joke goes something like this: when a Japanese person goes to a new city, he looks to start a business; when a Chinese person first arrives in a new place, he looks to start a restaurant; but when a Korean comes to town, he’s going to start a church. As my Korean immigrant father is a recently retired pastor who planted or shepherded at least seven churches that I can count, I can attest to the above punchline—Koreans love church. And we’ve taken to church planting and the Christian industry by storm, a sort of ecclesiological Kim Yunah phenomenon for those of you who watched the Winter Olympics. We’re the darlings of global missiological and church talk: we plant big-ass churches and carve them out of the mountainsides; we send more missionaries than any other country; we boast some of the fastest growing and multiplying churches stateside as well, but if Dan Ra’s and my experiences are any indication, the gig is just about up. Korean Americans and their churches need to slow down and take a good look in the mirror because despite Soong Chan Rah’s claim that ethnic minorities are leading the next evangelicalism in the 21st century, the descent could be pretty steep.

Dan: In 2007, I found what was then called “the emergent conversation”, I was bright-eyed, curious, disillusioned and confused. Three years later, I find myself in “the emergent i-don’t-know-anymore” but nothing about me has changed. I am still filled with wonder and God and God’s kingdom are as beautiful as ever. However, the conversation has changed, and some would even say, died. And we’ve read commentaries from christian blogs such things as “emergent sold out because it’s not exclusive and cool anymore” or “emergent has become so diverse and varied it’s just changed.” Recently Emergent has made clear efforts to diversify its identity. With events like C21 and the recognition that the two-thirds world is now the “superpower” in global Christianity, things seemed hopeful.

But frankly, most of those voices come from our white friends. So what then say the asian american emergents among us? Even then there are scant and varying opinions. So you’ll have my perspective, and I’ll try to keep references to Soong-Chan Rah at a minimum.

While Asian American Christians are largely conservatively evangelical, the truth is, most of us lack self-awareness about our beliefs. Indeed most of us would find theological angst and exploration absurd and unnecessary. This is one of the toughest problems regarding the relationship (or lack of) between the Asian American church and emergent. Put simply, most Asian Americans, like most Americans if we were to be honest, don’t care about the unraveling of certain “major” theological notions. They won’t be engaging with the emergent church, at least for a while. This, admittedly so, is a glaring problem with the Asian American church: theological apathy.

That said, the emergent church will need to make greater and more intentional efforts to reach out to the Asian American church. Although I was pleased to see that all of C21’s speakers were women, I was disheartened to see only one was a minority. Unfortunately, widening the doors to new emergent gatherings won’t be good enough. What I’m asking is for the emergent church to take steps towards non-white communities and do two things: listen and see. As of right now, it appears to me that the emergent church acts as though western Christianity is still the ultimate beast, although knowing that Latin American, African, and Asian churches are creating great ripples. But even in America today, the rise in the minority population is greatly affecting the racial demographic of those that are practicing the Christian faith. If the emergent church had something to say about the confines and failings of modernism and individualism, will we have something to say about the changing face of American Christianity? Will we actively engage and invite racially alternative voices, even from the academic sphere? Will we step into Korean Presbyterian, Ethiopian Orthodox, Latin Pentecostal, and black American baptist churches and see how young, hyphenated American parishioners are experiencing the faith?

So what does this look like in practice? How can non-minority emergent christians break the separatist nature of ethnic minority christian communities in the U.S. and ask, “Hey, can we talk?” Because, at least in the Asian American church, the deconstructive and, in turn, redeeming spirit of the emergent conversation is desperately needed. Because we know how to plant churches, and we know how to get all the answers right, but we’ve forgotten how to ask questions. We are simply copying your means of empire, whether it be figure skating champs, automobiles or churches. And we may “do” church better for now, but that’s just postcolonial inertia. Emergent needs to engage ethnic churches because it is the next step to pushing the boundaries further together.

David Park and Dan Ra write with other Asian American bloggers at Next Gener.Asian Church. David is finishing up a degree at Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, GA and likes the fact that he has no idea as to what comes next. When Dan Ra isn’t writing for Next Gener.Asian Church, he is dabbling with computers, singing for communities, and dreaming of possibilities for Asian American Christians in our post-everything world.

An Interview with Brian McLaren
by Melvin Bray

This is the first of 4 posts that will contain the full text of Melvin’s interview with Brian. Check back soon to read the rest of the interview.

It would be disingenuous of me not to confess up front that my appreciation of Brian McLaren extends beyond his merits as an author to include his contributions of friendship as a conversation partner, a connector of fellow sojourners and a faithful dreamer. However, if one were to assume that friendship in any way inhibits me from critically engaging his newest book with the requisite skepticism paradigmatic upheavals deserve, one would be grossly mistaken. For me, and I imagine for many in the Emergent conversation, friendship is a full contact sport. I tend to delve deep fast with questions that can disquiet, disrupt and often unearth that which one might rather have kept hidden—questions that could be considered invasive. Still, Brian was gracious enough to talk to me.

Brian’s A New Kind of Christianity: Ten Questions That Are Transforming the Faith (HarperOne)—now in your local bookstore and online—proves to be an incisive and provocative contribution to the public conversation on the future of faith. Incisive in that it clearly discerns the scriptural fault lines and historical inconsistencies upon which modern Christian hegemony has been built. Provocative in that it posits fresh and forward-looking ways of being in the world that simultaneously deconstruct faithless assumptions of the past while making an ever more faithful connection to the best intuitions of the past. The book’s basic premise is that there are pressing questions about God, faith and life, that can no longer be ignored, to which Christianity as it has been commonly practiced throughout modernity offers insufficiently useful responses. Rather than intuitively hunker down in a defensive posture or go on the attack, as our dominant religious metaphors might incline us to do, McLaren proposes Christians reach for a new metaphor, that of quest. A quest is a search for something worth having, in this case a search for a faith increasingly more worthy of Jesus, our Lord.

Not everyone has had as affirmative an encountered with the book. Scot McKnight, a friend of both Brian and the Emergent conversation, has written what seems to be for the Christianity Today audience an ‘about time’ critique of “Brian’s new kind of Christianity.” With his review McKnight casts himself as the Puddleglum of an often Marshwigglesque Evangelicalism. For those who immediately understand that metaphor, they will know that it is not meant to disparage, for Puddleglum is one of the hero’s in the Narnia tale The Silver Chair, even as McKnight has been a cherished champion of the value of orthodoxy within Emergent Village. Nonetheless, McKnight’s essentially one note mantra does not seem to adequately apprehend the complexities and in some cases unprecedented challenges of the present. Don’t get me wrong: to dismiss McKnight’s warrants would, in my opinion, prove a grave misjudgment. However, if after all this time McKnight’s singular concern remains the lack of apparent orthodoxy in Brian’s proposals, I am forced to wonder aloud: Discretion may be the better part of valor, but who decreed that orthodoxy is the better part of faith?

This interview was conducted before McKnight’s review was published, but it does address some of the McKnight’s misgivings. I tried to pose questions that reflect my own ambivalence about faith as quest as well as questions that give voice to the deep reservations and doubts of my more fundamentalist friends and family who remain fully committed to faith as bastion. However, I must say that at the end of my questioning I find this quest of faith (humble confidence) toward a God whose hopes, dreams and desires are for the good of all creation far more compelling than what was my former belief (uncritical certitude) in the God of a triumphal few.

The first and last questions of this interview include content originally published at God’s Politics blog.

Melvin: Brian, it seems to me that the crux of the book is the “What is the Gospel?” chapter and that the most challenging declarations are made between pages 138 and 140. Was this true in the writing of the text? Of all the questions, what do you think makes the gospel question such a challenging conversation for so many to have? I know for myself, it’s the very conversation I’ve sought to avoid with anyone within the denominational tradition I call home who seems uncritically committed to doctrinal orthodoxy.

Brian: So much depends, of course, on what you and they mean by “doctrinal orthodoxy.” I am deeply committed to doctrinal orthodoxy, meaning I want to be faithful to the truth and to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, even if that puts me at odds at certain points with what this or that group has determined as doctrinal orthodoxy. For example, my Calvinist friends who claim orthodoxy need to remember that to the Eastern Orthodox, Calvinists are heterodox from the get-go, because they’re not submitted to the patriarchs and bishops of the One True Church. And my many Wesleyan and Quaker and Anabaptist friends who consider themselves doctrinally orthodox are only questionably so from the perspective of some of my Calvinist friends. And my Dispensationalist friends often speak of “historic orthodoxy” without noticing the irony that before 1835, their approach to the faith had never even been dreamed of. The same could be said in slightly altered ways for Adventists and Pentecostals.

You might be right that the fifth question is the crucial one, although I think the first two or three questions are probably the most radical, in that they open up space to ask the other seven or eight. I tell the story in the book of how shocked I was when an Evangelical theologian once proposed to me that most Evangelicals – including me – didn’t have “the foggiest notion” of what the gospel really was. So perhaps this question will seem like a shock to folks, but I can’t put into words how liberating it is to rediscover Jesus’ gospel of the kingdom of God, and to see that Paul and Jesus have the same gospel, not different ones.


Melvin Bray is chief bbq taster on the Emergent Village green and the coordinating author of The Stories in Which We Find Ourselves: A Bible Story Project to write/collect re-tellings of the biblical narrative that resonate with emerging, missional and/or ‘post-ism’ sensibilities.