This Thanksgiving, as Americans sit to break bread and count their blessings, Bob Dole and George McGovern want them to think about the men, women and children all over the world who do not have enough to eat.
These men -- one a Republican, one a Democrat, both former U.S. Senators and presidential hopefuls -- have written a new book called "Ending Hunger Now."
Their basic argument is this: There is enough food being produced in the world. Millions do not need to go hungry, while others gather around tables piled with food, if governments and individuals have the political will to spend enough money to make it stop.
Dole was traveling out of the country and could not be reached for comment. But McGovern, now 83 and living in South Dakota, took time for an interview. "I'm trying to live to 100," he said. "There are so many things I still want to do."
Outlook national reporter Leslie Scanlon interviewed McGovern and Donald E. Messer, a professor of practical theology and president emeritus at The Iliff School of Theology in Denver, where he directs the Center for the Church and Global AIDS.
Here are excerpts from those conversations.
Editor's Note: This sermon was preached at the 66th meeting of New Hope Presbytery of Rocky Mount, N.C., on October 15, 2005.
Scripture texts: John 15:12-17; 1 Peter 2:9-17
Though our U.S. Constitution was produced by a congress consisting mostly of Christians, the first clause of the First Amendment prohibits the establishment of an official religion. The apparent irony goes deeper when we acknowledge the contributions of Christians in the formation of our government, beginning with the revolutionary war itself. This was something particularly true of Presbyterians. Historian Lefferts Loetscher1 said that the fires of the American Revolution were fanned from Presbyterian pulpits sufficient for the British to describe it as "the Presbyterian Rebellion." When King George III asked what the trouble was in the American colonies a member of Parliament replied our "colonial cousins had run off with a Presbyterian parson."
The organizing pastor of First Presbyterian Church New Bern, John Knox Witherspoon, was the grandson and namesake of the only clergyman to sign the Declaration of Independence. (I'm required to say that!)
Whatever you may think of the disestablishment clause, the biblical wisdom and Reformed theological stamp that shaped our Constitution is unmistakable. Its principal author, James Madison, was educated at Presbyterian Princeton where he was a student of John Witherspoon. Remembered as "The Father of the United States Constitution," Madison helped produce what Lutheran historian Martin Marty has called "a thoroughly Calvinist document." Marty claims that the Constitution supplies the checks and balances any Presbyterian would love, for the unspoken implication found throughout, "is the conviction that while humans have a great capability, self-interest would always turn them against the common good if left to themselves."2
The paragraphs below begin a sermon by William L. Hawkins on Christian disestablishment, preached at a meeting of New Hope Presbytery on October 15. In a time of increasing, irreversible religious pluralism, Hawkins exalts the value of congregational life. He argues that because we have long been unable to rely on the institutions of government or education to under gird a Protestant or Christian culture, the congregation has become the place where everything we do matters as it never has before. You will read this engaging, inspiring sermon next week in the Thanksgiving issue of the Outlook. But it is the origin of our nation and Constitution, described here, which illumines the present religious divide that troubles our nation's soul.
Though our U.S. Constitution was produced by a congress consisting mostly of Christians, the first clause of the First Amendment prohibits the establishment of an official religion. The apparent irony goes deeper when we acknowledge the contributions of Christians in the formation of our government, beginning with the revolutionary war itself. This was something particularly true of Presbyterians. Historian Lefferts Loetscher said that the fires of the American Revolution were fanned from Presbyterian pulpits sufficient for the British to describe it as "the Presbyterian Rebellion."
The Book of Order, so far as I can determine, does not allow for retroactive revocation of ordination. I think this means I can probably safely admit now that I do not like chicken. Left to me the colonel from Kentucky would still be a corporal from Tennessee. I have never made a big issue of this situation because I am not trying to feather my nest.
Every time I deliver a sermon people come up in wonderment and ask where I learned to preach. However, I never get to tell them because they immediately fall to the floor laughing and roll away. I am, of course, glad to see people being happy, but I would like to answer that question.
Click here to read Ben's editorial, 'Minister Shortage'
Ben Sparks has written thoughtfully in these pages about the response of our denomination to the apparent shortage of ordained ministers. His words are wise, and his description of a program to enhance the commitment and skills of younger, and more recent seminary graduates leads me to think that the time has come for such an approach. May that work increase.
If I am correct in my understanding of what Ben says about the role of interim pastors, I agree with him at this point. In my opinion, while interim pastors provide useful services, they may also slow down the process of "filling pulpits" more quickly, since having a temporary pastor can seem, to the congregation and its committees, to keep the status quo. No matter that competent, trained persons who do this worthy work are encouraged to assist the church in embarking on a program of re-visioning, there is the possible perception that the interim pastor can hold the fort, visit the sick, celebrate the sacraments, and provide other services. And, they can.
Following the terrorist bombings this summer in London a website came to international attention. Its message was simple: "I am not afraid." One would be hard pressed to find a more defiant and timely message of hope for a conflict battered world. I have begun to wonder what it might mean for our church to affirm this message too in the midst of its own conflicts.
There is a kind of holy fear, of course. George MacDonald writes: "Where it is possible that fear should exist, it is well it should exist, cause continual uneasiness, and be cast out by nothing less than love." MacDonald sees fear as a kind of provisional reverence that eventually will evaporate in the presence of the purifying fire of God's love.
Presbyterian College's commission to examine the school's "church-relatedness" has reported to the board of trustees that its faculty no longer need be Christian. While I was honored to serve on this commission as the Savannah Presbytery's representative, I believe this recommendation is outrageous, misguided, and embodies a bizarre approach to embracing diversity.
The report of the Commission, chaired by Allen McSween of Fourth Church in Greenville, S.C., makes the formal finding that "the faculty is the key element in the education of students to fulfill the mission of the College" (Report of the Commission, p. 9). With that statement, I am in complete agreement.
After recognizing the faculty's key role, however, the majority of the members of the commission then recommend that the faculty of this Christian institution no longer need be Christian. With that recommendation (Report, Recommendation Number 3, p. 10), I am in strong opposition and, therefore, submitted a minority report. How the majority can advocate such a change is simply beyond my poor comprehension as a minister of Christ's gospel and an advocate of Christian education.
I hasten to point out that there is nothing wrong with the recommendation in and of itself. Indeed, the wording of the recommendation is, I suspect, intentionally benign. The recommendation is that the College insure that new faculty members are oriented to and embrace the distinctive mission of the College. And who could oppose a professor understanding and supporting a college's mission?
From Leslie Scanlon's review of the Committee on the Office of the General Assembly's decision to close the Montreat Historical Society for financial reasons, we learn that a storm has been whipped up. The destruction of that storm will be felt far beyond Montreat. If that location is closed, 30,000 visitors a year to that small town nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains outside Ashville, N.C., will morph into a much wider community of disgruntled Presbyterians, not only across the South, but from all over the United States and in other nations.
Consider the ill-tempered mood of the church regarding our major disagreements: divestment, the ordination of gays and lesbians, and beliefs about salvation in the name of Jesus Christ alone. In our agitated state, we lose 40,000 plus members a year. Is it not odd, in those circumstances, that COGA voted to close the Montreat center on the report of a committee of three persons, not one of whom is from the Southeast or "represents" Montreat? Do they knowingly invite us into another fray guaranteed to provoke persistent irritation and anguish to thousands of Presbyterians, whose support is needed for the church's future, as well as for the preservation of this collection in optimal form?
In his prophet's call to repentance in Matthew and Luke, John the Baptist warns those who have been drawn to his revival not to place their hope in their ancestral connection to Abraham, for "God is able from the stones to raise up children to Abraham." (Mt. 3:9)
I thought of that warning as I read an article by Mark Lilla in the New York Times Magazine (September 18, 2005) called "Getting Religion, My long-lost years as a teenage evangelical." This University of Chicago professor tells of his awakening to the Scriptures through one of the small groups that proliferated in the "Jesus Freak" movement of the 1970s, and of his eventual fall out of faith. He grew up Roman Catholic in a monotonous blue collar Detroit suburb, and at age 13 he decided he was an atheist. A year later he attended a Christian rock concert and on the way out was given a colloquial translation of the New Testament, which he sat up all night reading. That New Testament opened his mind to a new world. Immersion in that New Testament also began the transformation of his intellect.
I confess that I used to think how much better our denomination would be if those who held to theological positions different than mine would opt to go elsewhere. I have a feeling my liberal colleagues felt the same about my fellow conservatives and me. I learned, however, that all of our voices are important.
Many people will lift up recommendation #5 as the single most important part of the report of the Theological Task Force. I believe, however, that recommendation #1a is the most important. It reads: "The Task Force recommends that the General Assembly strongly encourage: every member of the PC(USA) to witness to the church's visible oneness, to avoid division into separate denominations that obscure our community in Christ, and to live in harmony with other members of this denomination, so that we may with one voice together glorify God in Jesus Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit."
I was working in my study a couple of days after the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks when my secretary informed me that the Moderator of the General Assembly was on the phone. That's not something that happens every day in Lakeland, Fla., so I picked up the phone with great anticipation. Jack Rogers was calling from Louisville. We talked about the recent tragedy and how the G.A. offices and the Lakeland Church were responding to the emotional and spiritual needs of people. Then the moderator asked me if I would serve on the Theological Task Force, and I responded with a resounding "yes." I had heard about the formation of the Task Force, and had even sent the three moderators a few suggestions of people I felt would make good members for such a committee. I did not include my name on the list, but was both honored and humbled to be selected.
I have come to recognize an important form that denial often takes in my life, perhaps in yours as well: the denial that people I disagree with have anything to teach me.
In 2001, the 213th General Assembly created a Theological Task Force to wrestle with the issues that are uniting and dividing us as Presbyterians. They were praying that with the help of the Holy Spirit we might lead the church in discernment of our Christian identity and of ways that our church might move forward, furthering its peace, unity, and purity. For this task, three former moderators collared 20 Presbyterians as different from one another as they could possibly be -- 20 Presbyterians who under ordinary circumstances would never dream of hanging out together!
So much of the diversity within our church is reflected on our Task Force that when he first met with us, Stated Clerk Cliff Kirkpatrick told us his office had received no complaints about the make-up of the Task Force, but that the question he had been asked repeatedly is "How will they ever get along?"
Does our church have a shared sense of Christian faithfulness? Or has the celebration of personal freedom rendered us incapable of agreeing on what a "manner of life [that is] a demonstration of the Christian gospel" looks like?
Predictably, response to the report of the Theological Task Force on the Peace, Unity, and Purity of the Church has focused on the effect its recommendations might have on the contested issue of the ordination and installation of "self-affirming, practicing homosexual persons." Many conservatives in the church distrust recommendation 5, seeing in it a back door opening to "local option." Many liberals in the church are distressed by recommendation 6, seeing it as a failure of nerve that maintains an unjust prohibition.
The Task Force's mandate was far broader than the ordination controversy, of course. It was asked to lead the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A .) "in spiritual discernment of our Christian identity," and to address specific issues of disagreement and conflict: biblical authority and interpretation, Christology, ordination standards, and power. Over a period of four years, Task Force members have worked faithfully and well on the full range of matters before them, but it was inevitable that the issue of ordination standards would push the church's consideration of the others into the far background. Christological controversy receded in the wake of the General Assembly's overwhelming affirmation of "Hope in the Lord Jesus Christ." Scriptural authority and interpretation remains an issue in the church, and is unresolved by Task Force members' general agreement that Scripture is authoritative for them.
This article is based on a presentation made September 8, 2005 at the Association of Presbyterian Colleges and Universities executive committee meeting in Presbyterian Center, Louisville, Ky.
2005 happens to be the 125th anniversary of the founding of Presbyterian College and the 100th anniversary of Albert Einstein's miracle year. The connection between the two was set for me when a member of our faculty shared a contemporary epistle -- a letter from one of the young saints -- a graduate of the class of 2003.
I took your advice and thought about what my four years at PC meant to me as the bagpipes started playing that glorious, blue-sky Carolina Saturday that we graduated. ... I may never be famous or powerful, but I do have something that no one can ever take from me. I have something that will follow me to the grave. That something is a type of understanding that I received from the college that goes beyond a normal education. I know why PC is so very special now ... PC teaches you not just facts but how and why you should thirst for knowledge. PC teaches you not only to understand why Albert Einstein said, "Imagination is more important than knowledge;" but PC also teaches you to love to imagine yourself. PC teaches you not only how the American justice system has changed in the last century, but PC also teaches you to strive for justice yourself. PC not only teaches you that God exists, but it also challenges you to examine God in your own life ...
I am thankful for the work of the Peace, Unity and Purity Task Force, for modeling a way of speaking the truth in love to one another and to the church, even if there is no clear "prescription". Patience, forbearance, and faithful engagement are marks of the church that are easily overlooked in a results-oriented society. Affinity groups have also been tackling the presenting issues of the day for decades, especially the issue of ordination standards. However, I have come to realize that the options for renewal we have currently are not enough.
In the post-modern age, we have come to the end of Enlightenment rationalism with new paradigms for thinking emerging. As children of the Reformation, we are still too deeply rooted in Athens. The birth of Protestantism occurred, of course, when the Roman Church, very much under the influence of Thomas Aquinas (who borrowed heavily from Aristotle), was countered by Luther and Calvin, both influenced significantly by Augustine, a neo-Platonist. That the Western church is influenced by Plato/Aristotle is not any more noteworthy than that the Eastern (East Asian) church is influenced by Confucius/Lao Tzu. But in the church in America, I am convinced that our Platonic dualism has led to a national bipolar disorder.
The Readings: Psalm 5:1-12; Isa. 59:1-15; Rom. 6:3-4
Today I want to lift up a biblical theme that has not received the attention it deserves. It is the powerful theme that violence finds refuge in falsehood. I myself first became aware of it through Alexander Solzhenitsyn, the great Russian novelist. In accepting the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1972, Solzhenitsyn included these words:
Violence, less and less embarrassed by the limits imposed by centuries of lawfulness, is brazenly and victoriously striding across the whole world, unconcerned that its infertility has been demonstrated and proved many times in history. What is more, it is not simply crude power that triumphs abroad, but its exultant justification. The world is being inundated by the brazen conviction that power can do anything, justice nothing. ...
But let us not forget that violence does not live alone and is not capable of living alone: it is necessarily interwoven with falsehood. Between them lies the most intimate, the deepest of natural bonds Violence finds its only refuge in falsehood, falsehood its only support in violence. Any man who has once acclaimed violence as his METHOD must inexorably choose falsehood as his PRINCIPLE. At its birth violence acts openly and even with pride. But no sooner does it become strong, firmly established, than it senses the rarefaction of the air around it and it cannot continue to exist without descending into a fog of lies, clothing them in sweet talk. It does not always, not necessarily, openly throttle the throat, more often it demands from its subjects only an oath of allegiance to falsehood, only complicity in falsehood.
This connection was undoubtedly one that Solzhenitsyn learned to make from bitter experience. But since he is a Christian, he would also have learned it from Holy Scripture. Today we saw it ourselves in Psalm 5: You destroy those who speak lies; the Lord abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful. ... For there is no truth in their mouths; their hearts are destruction; their throats are open graves; they flatter with their tongues. (Psalm 5:6, 9).
I heard the story of a particular presbytery meeting hot on the heels of four glorious September days in "graduation exercises" with the second Cohort of the Company of New Pastors. (The Company of New Pastors -- formerly Excellence from the Start -- is the Lilly Endowment program out of Theology and Worship that involves pairs of Pastors mentoring new seminary graduates who are in their first called positions.)
The four days were a "debriefing" on more than three years of semi-annual meetings for worship and study, reading books related to ministry and delivering papers in our small groups. The assumption is that community is formed and mutual professional support occurs -- not out of therapy or skill development -- but when it is grounded in theological reflection on the practice of ministry. At "graduation" we were privileged also to reflect with Eugene Peterson, author and pastor, on the life and work of a pastor.
Text: II Corinthians 4:8-9; Romans 8:28-39
Editor's Note: the following eyewitness report to Presbyterian constituents in Mississippi helps all of us understand better the challenges and ongoing needs of the Gulf Coast. See elsewhere on this Web site for information on how to contact Presbyterian Disaster Assistance and support New Orleans-Gulf Coast recovery efforts.
Beleaguered but unvanquished--two of William Faulkner's favorite words. They describe the people of God who are called according to His purpose; people like you who have risen to the occasion, to bring light to the darkness, hope in the midst of despair, food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, clothing to those who only have the clothes they're wearing, encouragement to those who have lost it all.
Editor's note: The following homily was preached at the funeral of the Reverend George McMaster at Druid Hills Church in Atlanta, Ga., by Dr. Patrick D. Miller, Professor of Old Testament at Princeton Theological Seminary. It contains great comfort for the church and is a welcome testimony to the gospel in these troubled, dangerous times.
Not long ago, when Mary Ann and I were visiting with her mother, she asked me what I thought about heaven. I was taken aback at the time because my mind was, as usual, on more mundane things. I don't recall what response I made at the time, except that it was not very helpful. But the question was a serious one from this 90-year-old woman whose husband had died some years before. It has stuck with me ever since and in these few minutes I would like to take it up again with a bit more reflection.
Heaven really has two connotations in Christian faith. One is spatial -- up there -- and one is temporal -- beyond death. In the first instance, heaven is a symbol for God's reality and God's rule. It is a pointer to transcendence, to the fact that what we mean by God is one who is above and beyond all that we are even if among us.
Heaven is a biblical and Christian way of speaking about the abode of God. Some of you are old enough to remember when the Russian premier Nikita Khrushchev scoffed at the notion of God and heaven when he noted that the Russian astronauts had not seen God or heaven when they went into space. His mockery reflects a widespread tendency to literalize the notion of heaven, when in fact it is a symbol and not a literal reality, at least as described in the Bible. As a symbol, however, it points to something real, but something we can only think of in images and pictures because it is beyond us, and we do not have direct experience of it.
It was easy to feel sorry for them. The poor, displaced, battered citizens of New Orleans confronted us with the disparity of economic life in America.
But as the days turned to weeks, another subtext began to surface, showing an even greater disparity. A surprising number of the poor were, in fact, rich in spirit. Despite having little, they showed an enormous depth of spiritual understanding and a remarkable display of extravagant faith.
An elderly woman, finally pulled from her house after days of waiting, seemed surprisingly peaceful as television crews filmed her rescue. When a reporter asked if she was glad the rescuers had finally arrived she said, "Yes, I'm glad to see them. But I had the Lord with me whether anyone else showed up or not."
Unlike many of us whose wealth obscures our spiritual sight, this woman gave contemporary meaning to the Bible verse written by the Apostle Paul: "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." (Philippians 4:12)
The Book of Order is a compendium of Presbyterian experience based on nearly three hundred years of practice, prayer and study of Scripture. Occasionally church officers get the mistaken opinion that it is a static document, forever fixed by someone in the presbytery or General Assembly.
Last week in New Orleans ... nobody took control. ... The rich escaped while the poor were abandoned. ... Partisans squabbled while the nation was ashamed. The first rule of the social fabric -- that in times of crisis you protect the vulnerable -- was trampled.
I have pondered these words by David Brooks on the Sunday (9/4) New York Times Op-Ed page almost relentlessly. After 23 years as pastor of a downtown church, I know the names of Richmond's vulnerable too well for comfort. Our congregation, together with more than 100 churches and synagogues in the city, has ministered to them, sometimes with opposition from the city and the powerful. We have served them lunches, listened to their woes, celebrated their joys, seen the plight of their circumstances in adult homes, and directed them to medical care or emergency assistance. We have preached their funerals. We have sheltered them and visited them, and with many agencies, have tried to keep them from homelessness. Their faces are the faces of those multitudes abandoned by the authorities in New Orleans.
The seminaries and their constituent congregations enjoy a deep and abiding relationship within the ethos of American Presbyterianism. In fact, in a time when much of our denominational ecosystem is under some degree of stress and decline, it is my observation that the seminaries and the great majority of our Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) congregations remain its healthiest components.
With respect to our ten PC(USA) seminaries, I have already had ample opportunity in my three years of serving as a seminary president to get a good look at the complexion of theological education in North America, and I believe they are without peer. They represent the gold standard when it comes to the quality of education, the quality of faculty, the quality of clergy being sent out into the church, the value base still alive in our denomination for the stewardship of the mind, and their sheer institutional strength and stability.
It is also interesting to me, in terms of the relationship our seminaries have to the church, that over the last decade, when Presbyterian seminaries have chosen presidents, they have overwhelmingly chosen pastors and not academicians--persons who, even if they have a Ph.D., are coming straight from the parish where they have spent most of their ministry. That is a profound statement, I believe, that at a deep level the church and the seminary want to be in still closer conversation.
And maybe it's about time, the church and the seminary may be saying to one another. From the church's perspective, there is this sense--not always justifiable, in my humble opinion--that the seminaries are out of touch with the life of the church; that their faculties are not sufficiently engaged in the on-the-ground life of the church; and that the questions we pursue in seminary are not necessarily the questions that most concern the church.
What is the meaning of Reformed theological education for the life of the Presbyterian Church in these days of extreme diversity and conflict?"
These days, pastors and faithful disciples in the pews are wondering if the Presbyterian Church can hold together amidst all the tossing and turning. Some wonder why we don't just call a meeting, hire a good lawyer, get a divorce, split up the property, and move on. Seminary students wonder if there will be a church to serve after they graduate. We know it wouldn't be the first time the Church has divided, though concord after these divisions has lasted for only a short time. And we know from our constitution that Visible oneness, by which a diversity of persons, gifts, and understandings is brought together, is an important sign of the unity of God's people. It is also a means by which that unity is achieved. (Book of Order, G-4.0203).
In these days of extreme diversity and conflict, as we seek the peace, unity, and purity of the church, it seems as if we are walking a tight wire. The question becomes, "How shall we maintain our balance?" That's a question for Reformed theological education.
A few weeks ago, after Pittsburgh Seminary had announced that I would be its next President, the editor of The Presbyterian Outlook asked me, "Bill, why are you leaving the parish to return to the academy?" The short answer might be "the three great things about academia: June, July and August!", but real scholars know better. It never really slows down that much in the summer months with all the Hebrew and Greek courses, and all the continuing education events. Administrators and staff especially plow right on. Faculty members put the finishing touches on those tomes they have been trying to write all year.
Still, the editor's question hung in the air waiting to be answered.
Actually, there were two parts to the question: (a) Why are you leaving the church for the school and (b) What should the school be doing for the church these days?
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