Book review on “The Unlikely Disciple”

About two weeks ago, I received one of my regular 15% off coupons from Barnes & Noble in my e-mail inbox.  (I buy most of my textbooks through them, and paid the $25 for a membership at the beginning of the school year.)  Normally I delete these messages and unwanted spam, but I was thinking of summer reading and decided to pick out three books, one of which is the new release, “The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner’s Semester at America’s Holiest University” by Brown University senior Kevin Roose.

The basic premise of the book is simple: Roose takes a semester off from Brown to study at Liberty University, the Harvard of right-wing evangelicalism founded by the late Jerry Falwell.  His goal is not to completely bridge the divide between the evangelical and secular worlds, but at least to start pouring the concrete footings, searching for the humanness behind the ideology.

For a post-modern, progressive faith bridge-builder like myself, I loved it.

If one is in search of ammunition against the religious right and support for Grinch-like condemnation, “Unlikely Disciple” will be of no use.  If one is in search of conversion and submissive transformation, keep on searchng.  If one is in search of stories like late nights in Dorm 22, boys-will-be-boys joviality, and a fair amount of levity and humor, pick up a copy immediately.

That’s not to say there isn’t pain in the reading.  Roose’s writing brings the characters into 3D living color, causing the reader to share in his challenge of reconciling their often opposite beliefs from everyday actions.  There’s also something to be said about knowing the theological underpinnings of the university’s operation and distinctives and knowing those things playing out.  Multi-million dollar facility improvements for one of America’s most public and influential megachurches in an area of the country characterized for poverty and substandard living is gutwrenching, no matter how its sliced.

I also think, however, Roose’s intentions with this book reflect the modern/post-modern shift than he even addressed in his reading.  In the epilogue, as he touches briefly on the transition of power from the senior Falwell to his sons following his death, Roose expresses some of the changes as Liberty “relaxes” its rules and tight control over academics and student life.  These changes, like the softening of evangelicals in creation/environmental care, and Roose’s own openness to building bridges and the surprising reactions he receives when he spills the beans, so to speak, to his Liberty friends point to a foundational thought process that seeks to transform boxes and binary thinking.  There are beacons of hope throughout the book that the same shift experienced in mainstream society and secular (or mainline Protestant) education is not completely lost among evangelicals.

Finally, I also appreciated Roose’s connections throughout the book to the projections people on the left cast on people on the right.  While he is writing from an almost entirely secular context, I will take a certain amount of liberty with his work and include liberal mainline Protestants in his categorization of secular.  The responses he received from his family members, fellow students at Brown, and others around him when he announced his attentions to “study abroad” and experience immersive cross-cultural engagement were exactly what I would expect from those around me in my own religious context.  He demonstrates the work that is to be done on both sides of the left-right spectrum if we are going to bridge the God divide, and provides an excellent resource for those of us who don’t have the resources to immerse ourselves as he did.

Letting go

A story in this week’s Chronicle highlights the shifting change in communication strategy for college and university admissions in light of electronic social media.  (For anyone with some sort of interest or connection to higher education marketing, Brad J. Ward, who is referenced in this article, is a great resource.  Check out his blog and his company.)  I can’t help but connect this to a similar shift in the structural church.

How does the church do church in a social media world?  How does the church do church in a social media world when fewer and fewer of its participants are millenials who expect a democratic communication process?

I was having a conversation with someone a couple of days ago about this very problem.  An organization we are both affiliated with was following the typical prototype of so much church planning and communication: the leadership team makes a proposal, seeks the silent involvement of clergy, the two groups make a final decision in a closed meeting, and announce the results in a newsletter article.  Even those of us who are supposedly knowledgeable of the situation are lost and confused.

I, only quarter-jokingly, added that if the church just ignores what goes on around it, the problem will fade away — you know, because the Vatican proved that model successful after that troublesome monk in Germany started spouting off 500 years ago.

Last Sunday I met with my congregation’s in care committee, a group I relate to as I progress through the ordination and education process.  I shared with them one of my greatest fears for the church — that we continue on our path of being generally 50-60 years behind the mainstream society, which as we go forward will have the social impact of being 150-200 years behind.  Technology now changes on a daily, hourly basis.  Its not a matter of getting e-mail to solve the problem.

The creativity that is shaping up in these admissions offices requires no small part of letting go, of recognizing that the university as a social institution must change and adapt to its new role.  No longer is its voice the “expert opinion.”  Just as much, this is a wonderful opportunity for the church and religious organizations to step forward and model this new behavior, to let go of complete message control.  Especially for those of us in traditions which emphasize mutuality and covenant, democratic governance and the universal priesthood, anything less is simply anathema to our theological understanding.

On current events and pop culture

Abdiwali Abdiqadir Muse, the lone surviving and captured pirate that attacked a U.S. ship in humanitarian service earlier this month, arrived in federal court today in New York.  In a sick twist of irony, his arrival here fulfils a life dream to visit America.

If the charges against him play out, he could be facing mandatory life in prison here in the U.S.  On the surface, it seems like justice is being done; but my heart ached as I read the AP story, imagining life in Somalia.  Certainly there is no excuse for threatening others’ lives, but here is a teenager — a child, really — who in another sick twist of irony is the result of the misfortune of birth location.  Geographic location, social location, time location.  I cannot fathom what this young man is feeling today, is thinking today.  When he arrived in the U.S., what was that like for him?  What did he see at the (presumably) air force base when he landed?  What did he think about that?  I’m sure he wants and needs his family and close friends here with him.  Should he be locked away for the rest of his life, will someone make that happen so he can see them ever again?

In our perfectly good, perfectly admirable quest to empathize with the victims of crime, we all-too-frequently forget the life of the accused and the people around them.  “They deserve what they have coming,” we say.  “They’re just a bad seed,” we characterize.  “They should have known better,” we rationalize.  But these are people — living, breathing human beings, existing with the same flesh and blood as ourselves.  How quickly we are willing to throw away one of our own in the name of justice.  How is that just?  How is that right?  How does our social nature destroy those very individuals whom we seek to save from themselves?

At the same time we read about Miss California’s opposition to same-sex marriage.  I don’t want to participate in the chastizement of Carrie Prejan; she spoke her opinion, and as much as I may disagree with it, she has not only the right to hold it, but I believe she demonstrated an enormous amount of character and respect to herself by speaking it to such an unfriendly audience.  Think about it: there is a disproportionate number of gay men who watch the Miss USA Pagaent than in the general population, one of them hosting the show.  Do I wish she thought differently?  Absolutely.  But speaking as one of the 10%, we must be careful as we cry out against majority opinion in the name of American rights and liberties to not exercise the same displays of hatred, of rejection that have been directed toward us.  If we are going to claim first amendment freedom of expression to be proud of who we are, we must never infringe on another’s freedom to do the same thing in a peaceful manner.

Quick update

Its been a hectic couple of weeks. Let me get you up to speed:

1. Still looking for a summer job. I have a couple of really good leads, but still no job. Trying not to get too antsy.

2. Closeout sale at the school bookstore = more money spent there than I needed to.

3. Hopping on an airplane to Minnesota to visit family and friends for a week on Friday.

4. Can’t wait for the summer to get here.

That is your update for today. Hope to post more (and more regularly) soon.

What’s on my mind?

Today I participated in my required boundaries training before I go to my field site next year, and before I can get ordained.  I was thinking of a great deal of things as a result of it, but I went on a tangent thought that clouded most everything as a result of a very brief discussion on social networking.  Here’s an excerpt of an e-mail I sent as a processing brain dump:

Just because one discerns a calling into ministry doesn’t mean they cease to be human.  It doesn’t mean they cease to have the same struggles, the same frustrations, the same challenges, the same personality as they did before, and as the people in their congregation do.

The progression of communication and technology gives us as Christians — moreso as Christian leaders — such a wonderful gift.  In some ways, it is the fulfillment of the Reformer’s visions (I’m including Luther, Zwingli and Calvin — and all the others) in democratizing the church, in allowing for the priesthood of all believers.  How do we live our faith in a way that honors both our contextual location, our calling, and our relationship to the Creator?  How do we participate in this world where we find ourselves?  How do we relate to others and honor and respect all humankind?  How do we look at church?  How do we understand church?

Communication is a boundary issue — no doubt about it.  One must exercise confidentiality, non-anxiety, etc in all their undertakings as a minister.  But one does not cease to be their own person.  I’m not afraid of what professors or call committees or parishioners or future employers or past employers or anyone can find on my Facebook or my Twitter.  I’m not afraid of the pictures I’m tagged in.  I don’t feel that its inappropriate for me to make references to alcohol, or speak frustration at assignments or exams, or voice my opposition to structural defects within the organization.  I’m not afraid that its a public venue.  I know its a public venue, and I know that all of those people can find it, read it, shape their opinion of me, and even challenge me on it.  That’s the point! Its not a boundary issue — its an opportunity to live authentically.  Its a new level of accountability that didn’t exist before.

I’m not afraid that people will see those things and think that I’m less than I am, or that they will bring shame to the office I currently — and in the future — hold.  I see this new era as an asset, as a demonstration to those who feel “less than” themselves, for them to see that all of us are created in God’s image, are called good, and are wrestling with the same issues that confront our human condition.

If humanity is a boundary issue… then we’re all in the wrong business…

I’m sure these are all things I’ll write on later.  But for now, I just wanted to get some record.  (Especially for those call committees who will see this and think twice about my name on their list now…)

Signs of promise, signs of defeat

Yesterday the ELCA publicly released its proposed statement on human sexuality today, along with a series of resolutions (“enabling actions”) based on its standings.  While a vast improvement from its original, it still, in my opinion, has a long way to go.

One of the hardest things to accept, though, is that the church that left me no other option but to leave — yet I still wrestle with in love — still won’t take a definitive position and instead is willing to compromise the integrity, value and God-breathed nature of an entire group of people in the name of a futile attempt at preserving a false sense of unity and uniformity.

Let me establish one thing here: division in the church is painful.  It is painful to Jesus Christ, our head.  It is painful to a world already shattered and fractioned, seeking a place of solace and refuge.  It is painful to churchgoers who take seriously the fundamental truths of the Christian faith and see no reason for “frivilous disagreements” of non-fundamentals.  But, I will dare propose, occasionally division is inevitable and the space it creates allows for creative growth, Spirit-led innovation, and the future possibility of reunification.

The final thing I love about the UCC is our ability to wrestle together over life’s tough questions.  Our structure allows for difference of opinion.  Our theology has developed in such a way that dissent is (generally) not a communion-shattering event.  Following yesterday’s announcement, one of the organizations around the ELCA dedicated to a conservative, traditional Lutheran witness in the United States slammed the church for failing to recognize the ‘movement,’ if you will, of voters in states that have “[upheld] traditional marriage better than church leaders.”  Likewise, an organizaion committed to an inclusive, progressive momentum issued a stark critique of the church for not providing enough resources for the local option they are proposing.

The ELCA doesn’t have the flexibility in their structure for such division.  (I’d like to point out that the church leaders there would tell you they do, but the fact of the matter is they don’t.)  The calling and leadership system doesn’t allow for congregations to search for qualified, rostered ministers on their own without going through synodical offices.  That means conservative congregations in liberal synods might not be able to call conservative ministers, and are instead subject to the wishes of the synodical office.  The reverse is also true.  Even a local option like has been proposed doesn’t really solve the problem.  People on both sides feel hurt, not listened to, unrepresented.

And so the continual decline of the church presses on.  In efforts to prevent large-scale schism, individuals and groups leave the ELCA — sometimes for other denominations or independent churches, but all-too-often in a feeling of abuse and defeat they leave the organized church altogether.

I am convinced that the ELCA will look significantly different following the Churchwide Assembly this summer in Minneapolis.  I do believe a large-scale exodus will result.  There simply are no remaining options without a complete reestablishment of the denominational structure.  Certain caucus groups affiliated with the church already have the resources — monetary, people, publishing and theological/educational — to break en masse and establish another Lutheran body in the United States.  And while this will create immediate pain, confusion, and frustration, when the dust settles I do believe that both groups will be the better for it — because it will provide a safe space for people as they continue to wrestle within their own, local settings, and perhaps in the future allow for reunification in a positive setting that allows for the growth and development of all God’s children.

UCC Series: We Play Well With Others

One of the things that attracted me most to the UCC was its diversity of thought within the denomination, and its deep and abiding partnership with other traditions both inside and outside the Christian faith.

In other countries like ours, the 20th Century included a number of united and uniting church movements.  The United Church in Canada included the vast majority of Presbyterian, Methodist and Congregational churches in that country — and there was even talk and preparation for the Anglicans to join in.  The Uniting Church in Australia has a similar story.  The United States, though, never fully realized the movement.  That’s OK.  We’ve still got room in the UCC even for those who cling to their own labels and definitions.

Some challenge us because we have no prerequisite acquiescence to a set theology or creed.  But how wonderful it is to join together with those who do!  We are able to teach and learn from each other as we are on the great pilgrimage of faith.  On Sunday mornings, one is bound to find as many theological outlooks as there are individuals in the pews.  But we are not a group of individuals, instead we join together to fully engage and employ our God-given intelligence to attempt to understand God better, to more fully be about God’s work in our lives and in the life of the world around us through our discipleship.  In a community like ours, how can we help ourselves from reaching out across sectarian lines?

So, yeah.  We play well with others.  Its a really neat thing.

UCC Series: We’re a Creative Bunch

Read the first installment of this series.

One of the things that I love about the UCC, and that I think we do exceptionally well in comparison to the other mainline denominations, is we’re creative.  Now before the Lutherans start litigating about their creative forces, and the Presbyterians start pontificating about their artistic following, let me remind you I’m not here to start a war.  This isn’t an all-or-nothing summarization.  But you’ve got to admit, the UCC is creative.

Our structure breeds creativity.  Worship is not standardized among the congregations in our church; you’re free to use (or avoid) the UCC Book of Worship… or the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer, or the Presbyterian Book of Common Worship, or the Evangelical Lutheran Worship, or Joe’s Book of Pub Rules, or Sally’s Order for School Playgrounds.

Furthermore, Christian Education is equally diverse.  And there’s a growing movement for bringing in the visul arts  — probably because after centuries of whitewashed walls, we’re ready for some living color.  And then there’s our national structure itself.  Describing it as *creative* would be an understatement!

We’re a denomination leading the way for the use of technology in evangelism, mobilization and advocacy.  Church House is twittering, facebooking and blogging.  And for heaven’s sake, we’ve successfully replaced an image of suffering and death (the cross) as our church icon with a comma.  A comma!  It signifies not the end, but a continuation; not resolution, but open-ended freedom.

As a denomination committed to social justice, it makes sense that we breed creativity.  Tough decisions require creative solutions.  The UCC is definitely a place where the right brain need not check itself at the door.

On the wrong side of history

A blog I frequent, “Real Live Preacher,” is written by a Baptist minister deep in the heart of Texas. His writings often compel me to reflect on my own life, and he gives me strength to keep on keeping on as I pursue my call toward ordination in a faith tradition that has far too many boxes and heartbreaking too few gray areas.

I encourage you to read his most recent post.  Once again, he’s given me chills with his writing and moved me in such a way that I won’t be able to let go from this sacred space for a while.  An excerpt:

How can joy and sorrow be melded together in such a powerful way? I could hear the voice of God speaking to me, straight and direct, but also with love.

“You look a little shook up, Gordon. It hurts, doesn’t it, when you see the faces of the people you have been so quick to condemn? And yet, is it not also wonderful to see my other children, your brothers and sisters?”

Go.  Take a look.  Leave comments on his blog to continue the conversation.

Critic by association

“If you believe love should be uncritical, you may soon be thinking that I do not love this church. But my experience has been that to be a member of the United Church of Christ is, almost by definition, to be a critic of it. To be uncritical is to be the real oddball in this church. Perhaps to be uncritical is to be un-Christian”. -From “The United Church of Christ Tomorrow”, THEOLOGY AND IDENTITY: TRADITIONS, MOVEMENTS, AND POLITY IN THE UCC (Pilgrim Press: 1990), ed. Dan Johnson and Charles Hambrick-Stowe

I have a love-hate relationship with institutional church.  For any of those people who know me even slightly well, they will attest to the convoluted paradigm that is my absolute devotion to structured religious practice within the covenantal church standing next to the uncompromising commitment to the institutional ideal — what should be, what could be, what ought to be instead of what presently is.

To be certain, I have faced my own personal series of dark nights where the church was little more than a cannon aimed in my direction.  But the enduring power of the faithful assembled wouldn’t let me go.  Time and again I come back to this place with all of its faults and failures, roll up my sleeves, and say to those around me, “Let’s get to God’s work among God’s people.”

Because of my commitment to that ideal, I couldn’t in good conscience remain in the faith tradition of my upbringing.  As a confessional tradition, it takes its cues and inspiration from ancient statements of faith, 15th and 16th Century methods of interpretation and practice, and holds a certain suspicion to those models which emphasize freedom in the Gospel.  I don’t say this to reject that community’s faith; far from it, there are myriad good and faithful people who work to build the Beloved Community on earth there, and I am shaped and molded by their tradition more than I can ever unravel.  But in the end, my instinctive understanding of religious freedom for the sake of Jesus Christ led me down a different path of searching and discerning before I arrived in my home in the United Church of Christ.

I love the UCC.  I love that I can walk into two local churches sitting next door to each other and receive a completely different message.  I love that I can talk with two UCC members and receive eight different opinions.  I love that I can be about faithful risk, challenging the structures which define us, while maintaining solidarity with those around the edges.  I love that I can (even ought to) challenge church leadership yet stand side-by-side at the wonderful Table of Grace and receive heavenly food to sustain each of us.

I love the ideal of the UCC: a church rooted in no fewer than four Christian traditions in North America but affected by so many more, that celebrates its diversity in all of its forms while requiring uniformity of none.

There is much to celebrate in the UCC, but yet I am constantly reminded of where we fail.  In our attempts of inclusion, we fail to name — and even sometimes reject outright — those who we are purposely or indirectly excluding.  In our attempts of promoting religious freedom, we reject those who, in their freedom, subscribe to or promote a more conservative Christian faith.  In our attempts of promoting diversity, we provide a narrow definition rather than subscribing to the comprehensive whole.

One of my requirements as I work toward ordination is to take a course on UCC History & Polity.  I’m enrolled in that this semester and after one class period, I can speak with certainty that its going to be one of two classes that will pull me and stretch me in ways I can’t name now.  Over the course of the next few postings here, I’m going to address first three things that are cause for celebration in our beloved church, followed by three things that hinder us in our work.

For those who are “church people,” especially who might be involved in the life of the UCC, I hope that you will join the conversation.  For those who are “people of the world,” I hope you will also join the conversation and keep us grounded in the here-and-now of our work together.  Finally, for those of you who can’t stand church talk, I hope you, too, will join the conversation and let us know what it is we have done to push you away.

We’ll see where this goes.  I’m excited.