It had been a hard year--members left, a building project stalled, gossip and rancor seemed to raise their heads at every corner. There was a strong sense though that our struggles weren't against "flesh and blood," so neither was the solution.
For 90 days this past summer, our congregation tried to carve out ten minutes a day to pray about their church. Using the acronym CAST, we sought to understand what the spiritual barriers were to our moving forward in Christ. "C" stood for Come, as every part of our family was encouraged to come to the Lord in prayer and invite God to come and meet us in our prayer time. "A" stood for Asking, we needed to be bold enough to ask God to reveal those things that where holding us back from being the congregation we were called to be. "S" was for the Holy Spirit, we would be relying on the Spirit of God to guide us, waiting for his leading and prompting. Finally, "T" meant that we would Trust that the One who loves us so much would in fact meet us, guide us and direct our ways.
For 90 days we encouraged and challenged each other to follow through, join in and become part of the discerning process regardless of our varying positions on issues. We all wanted to follow God's leading. At the end of those three months, people reported on what the Lord had put on their hearts. Together my Worship Director and I planned out a service that would focus on the major themes the congregation had discovered. It proved to be one of the most powerful, unifying, Spirit- filled services we've ever had. God was honored and the Body was blessed to now be able to confidently go forward in Christ -- together.
Lately I feel like a stranger in the United States.
I am a remnant of what has been called "the greatest generation," but it's not the thinning ranks of my generation that has me feeling lost and confused. It's the debate about torture that has been swirling around me for months. I never imagined such a debate in my country.
A single statement from the executive branch that torture is forbidden everyplace, all the time, by every agency and under all circumstances, would stop all such talk immediately. There might be an element of danger in that stance, but virtue knows any sacrifice is worth a better future. We need to end the torture debate so the world will know that my country would never become as the enemy.
My father fought in World War I in Europe. He was a quiet man who never talked about his service in France, but my mother's photo of him in his uniform is etched in the minds of his children.
When World War II broke out, we were five boys and a little sister. The three oldest enlisted within days of the declaration of war. As number four, I enlisted as soon as my 18th birthday rolled around. Three of us went into the Army Air Force for pilot training; one joined the 5th Armored Division.
My youngest brother, Dudley, graduated from high school a couple of years later. Dad and Mom did not stand in the way of his enlisting, although they could have gotten a deferment for him to help on the farm. Dud didn't want cold, mud and tents, so he joined the Navy.
When his orders came to report for duty, what was left of the family climbed into the car and took him to the train station -- his grandfather, a great aunt, his little sister and parents. They all returned to our home to stay overnight. Dad went immediately to the end of the backyard and dug up the basketball standard that had stood for many years over a dusty plot where running feet had trampled out every living thing. It was too painful to see it standing there, silent and unused. After supper and evening visiting, Mom and Dad turned their bed over to company. They took the boys' room; Mom crawled into Dud's lower bunk, and Dad climbed into the top one. Finally, in the dark, alone, Mom was able to shed the tears that she had held back all day. Dad heard her crying and climbed down. They slept wrapped in each other's arms in Dud's empty, single bed. Mom wrote later, "When the morning came, our courage returned."
Editor's Note: Presbyterian Church U.S.A. Moderator Rick Ufford-Chase and Ed Brogan, Director of the Presbyterian Council for Chaplains and Military Personnel, are planning a meeting in Miami, Fla., January 6 - 7, 2006 on the issue of the use of torture by the United States.
We are inviting concerned people of faith to gather in Miami for a time of spiritual renewal in an age of violence, a public witness and worship on the beach that will call on our leaders to live up to the most noble of our country's ideals, and a strategy session about how we might encourage a grass-roots movement of Presbyterians to stand unequivocally against the use of torture by our government and to name the ideals that might lead us to authentic security.
We are asking Presbyterians to pray, study and take action to assure that there will be no unjust and abusive treatment of detainees by the United States and its allies. This statement is an extension of a quickly growing grassroots effort to educate people about the use of torture and the urgent need to call for an immediate end of these practices, wherever they occur.
There is now clear and compelling evidence that the U.S. government has routinely turned to torture as an appropriate tool in the "War on Terror." As I have traveled this year, I have asked Presbyterians to think carefully about the growing level of violence (torture, militarized borders, security checkpoints, and the War against Iraq) that our government has employed on our behalf in its earnest quest for security in a time of violence. I have insisted, and continue to insist, that this is a deeply theological challenge. As Christians, we know that genuine security is found only in Jesus Christ, whom we discover as we read and re-read Scripture while we seek to live Christ's example in the world around us.
"Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely." Clichés are clichés, and truisms are truisms. But Lord Acton's most famous cliché posits enough truth to cause any thinking American to tremble with fear.
When the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, most westerners rejoiced. This symbol of Soviet totalitarianism had crumbled, and freedom was singing a new song. However, a handful of those rejoicing also began to tremble. They asked, "What will become of America if it remains the lone superpower in the world? Will she muster sufficient character and courage to contain the corrosive effects of unchecked power in this new world?"
When the earlier Bush government felt compelled to send troops to Kuwait to defend its ally against the Iraqi invasion there, it achieved its basic goals. The military withdrew, encouraging the hope of other nations that we would not over-assert our power.
Then 911 happened. The appearance of invulnerability was shattered. Americans were taken hostage by fear of further attacks. Ends now could justify means, that is, if the ends in view included the preservation of American's freedoms. And what of those means? What about a second invasion of Iraq driven by a complicated mix of incomplete espionage regarding alleged weapons of mass destruction over there, alongside a hunger for justice (vengeance?) over here. Would dubious ends justify the means of a new war? What should we do with the resulting prisoners of war? Could we extract information from them that might avert more terror-caused carnage?
Of all the scandals that beset us as Americans, there is one that history is likely to judge most harshly, namely, the official authorization of torture abuse by the current Bush administration. As the Abu Ghraib photos have shown with unforgettable horror, serious violations of international law have followed in its train.
Let us be clear that torture is not just one issue among others. It is a profound assault on the dignity of the human person as created by God. It is therefore inherently evil. It violates a person's body, and terrorizes his mind, in order to destroy his will. The strongest of presumptions stands against it -- not only legally and morally, but also, from a religious point of view, spiritually. At the same time, authorizing torture poses a direct threat to constitutional government. As Columbia law professor Jeremy Waldron has urged, the issue of torture is "archetypal." It goes to the very heart of our civilization. Whether torture is permitted or prohibited is a question that separates tyranny and barbarism from the rule of law.
His answer, in his own words: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good..
There is power - and then, there is power. There is the power that comes with military supremacy and another kind of..
The Theological Task Force on Peace, Unity and Purity revived our interest in Presbyterian history in the United States since 1729, but stopped short of formative roots in the old world. Recently my wife and I joined a presbytery- sponsored tour to visit some sources of our Reformed faith in Scotland and Ireland. We found significant historic challenges to the peace, unity and purity of the church, and also surprising foundations for hope.
"Purity" was a driving force in the turbulent events of the Scottish Reformation. Purity was the match used by John Knox and his colleagues to ignite the flames of church (and national) reform in Scotland--purity in the Word of God, in the sacrament, in the clergy, and in the leaders of the land. In his passion for religious purity, Knox sparked an emotional explosion among Scottish people early in St. Andrews in 1547, and again in Perth, Edinburgh, and beyond beginning in 1559. In these violent birth-years of the Presbyterian Church, purity-minded mobs attacked the churches and monastic houses to strip them bare of their images of "idolatry," typically burning the churches to the ground, and often inflicting bodily harm or death to Catholics who resisted.
Museums and monuments to formative religious struggle marked our Presbyterian heritage across the lowlands and up into the Scottish hills, written in blood by passionate Presbyterians in the never-to-be-forgotten massacres like Glencoe and Culloden.
Being myself a progressive liberal, I turned immediately to the Revised Standard Version of the Bible as soon as it became available in 1946. Hide-bound conservatives in those days called it the Reversed Virgin because the translation of Isaiah 7:14 ("Behold, a young woman shall conceive") differed from the hallowed orthodoxy of the King James Version.
Newsflash!
Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at an Elingsh uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht frist and lsat ltteer is at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae we do not raed ervey lteter by itslef but the wrod as a wlohe. i
Isn't it amazing what powers of perception humans have? Even when mortal expressions are limited and imperfect, humans have been gifted with the ability to discern much more meaning from a written text than a surface review might reveal.
Think how often a word or two -- spoken or written -- is misconstrued because we fail to open our minds to the whole of what is intended by the one desiring to communicate with us.
Some people think the Boxer Rebellion describes the refusal of young males to wear a certain style of undergarment. Actually, it was an event which took place at the beginning of the twentieth century in China. Old movie fans or fans of old movies might enjoy Charleton Heston and Ava Gardner in "55 Days at Peking".
Men, I am proud to say, are by nature and nurture gross and disgusting creatures. I did my very best to pass on this crude heritage to our three boys. However, my success was not equal to my desire. I assume their occasional fastidiousness may be traced to their mother's "sugar and spice" influence.
Anointing events as the will of God is a devotional, if not exactly theological, temptation. Christians accept God's providence in both prosperity and adversity, a sentiment famously expressed in the Heidelberg Catechism, which I think represents the irenic and ecumenical Lutheranism of Philip Melanchthon within the burning heart of Calvinism. As a passionate advocate for The Book of Confessions,
Soon after we moved to Pittsburgh I located a Presbyterian physician and went to his office for a medical check up. I filled out a form in the waiting room and was ushered into an examination room and told to take off my clothes. Sitting on the table in my goose bumps, I was just about to get the doctrine of the Trinity figured out when a gorgeous young female nurse opened the door and walked in.
So we know that the Scriptures are inspired by God and are authoritative for the church's faith and life. Does that mean that the words in Scripture uttered by angels are just as inspired as those spoken by God or humans? Do their words carry clout, or can we dismiss them as being platitudes? Getting specific, what's to be made of the angels' song to the shepherds, 'Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace..." (Luke 2:14a)? If the chief end of humans is to glorify God, then the first line of the angelic song sounds substantive. What about the second line, the one that sings the promise of "peace?"
Granted, modern translators differ as to who should receive the peace promise. Is peace to be experienced by "all people?" Is it intended for "all people of good will?" Or is it being offered only to "those on whom God's favor rests?" What's for sure is that the peace is to be experienced by many, including at least all recipients of God's saving grace. It may be intended, as suggested in other biblical passages, for all persons created by God. Indeed, given the plan for the wolf to lie down with the lamb, it appears that God promises peace for all creation.
What about that peace? Holiday carols sing its melody. Christmas cards echo its refrain. But do we really want it?
Richard II, son of Edward the Black Prince, was king of England from 1377 to 1399. According to his biographer, Anthony Steel (his note 23), Richard was the inventor of the pocket handkerchief, which is a very absorbing subject. I admit that a pocket handkerchief can get snotty, but only if you get too nosy. During Richard's reign, the power behind the throne was John of Ghent whose name was corrupted to Gaunt.
Being one, I like to defend ministers whenever and wherever possible. Our "too too solid flesh" is subject to considerable frailty, but in a Presbyterian pulpit there is little excuse for blatant and pompous stupidity. Listening to a Christmas sermon our family learned a painful lesson in the hermeneutics of suspicion. The text was "Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, says your God" (Isaiah 40:1).
Blood everywhere!
So recently The DaVinci Code argues in exciting and so Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" demonstrates in excruciating detail. In the hot flash of a mini-pause the issue of blood becomes a fascinating subject. The Israelites regarded blood with holy awe because they understood blood to be the life of the flesh. Under the old covenant, the offering of blood was central to the sacrificial system.
Deck the halls with expectation. 'Tis the season for anticipation.
The original lyrics better fit the tune, but these words do fit the season. Children dream sugarplum dreams. Soldiers count down the days to a holiday leave. Shoppers look forward to a smiling friend unwrapping that perfect gift. Worshipers sing of the arrival of the Savior.
Why such December expectations, Advent anticipations?
The answer--God places them in the hearts of believers. They prompted landlocked Noah to build a boat, and elderly Sarai to decorate a nursery. They moved Ruth to leave the green fields of Moab and David to sing songs. They spoke to Mary treasured words of shepherds and angels. They emboldened Peter and John to command, "Rise up and walk."
Sadly, in post-Watergate America and in the post-reunion Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), cynicism--anticipation's dread enemy--seems to be out-shouting the more hopeful voice. Alongside impatience, apathy, certitude, and self-importance, cynicism has been waging war on the more hopeful Christian virtues of faith and trust. Of course, sinning ways of sinful people continually pump more helium into the balloons of disappointment in the church, but the resulting pessimism misses the point of Christian faith.
Throughout the biblical record and pervasive through church history the refrain is sung, "Have faith in God!" Bold faith animates the stories told of the first century Christians. Deep trust radiates from the lives of millions of faithful through the centuries, and for good reason. God has come through for them. The one who promised to build a church against which the gates of Hades would not prevail has overcome time and again.
In this season of Advent, in a time when many Presbyterians are warning of the demise of the church, how can we recover the vibrant faith of our forebears? Might we dare believe again that the best is yet to come?
Welcoming Jack Haberer
Editorial note: This issue is the inaugural for Jack Haberer's tenure as editor-in-chief of The Presbyterian Outlook. Several Presbyterian leaders, some of whom have worked with Jack in denominational efforts, give their thoughts on his coming to this new ministry:
Most high school seniors have extensive lists of requirements for potential colleges: location, cost, class sizes, major offerings. While I looked for colleges two years ago, all of those variables were important, but I seemed to have one other prerequisite: a Presbyterian heritage.
When I was asked what I was looking for in a school, I rarely started with the Presbyterian qualifier, but those interested noticed a pattern quickly enough. "Well," I'd say, "I'm looking at (different schools)." And, although each institution has a reputation for academic excellence, the unique common denominator was that of a relationship, whether active or more nominal, with one particular denomination-- my own.
My eagerness to attend a Presbyterian college may seem to have an obvious explanation. As the daughter of a Presbyterian minister (Warrensburg, Mo.), the familiarity of my home denomination's theology and practices seemed comforting as I planned to live on my own for the first time. Plus, occasional scholarship breaks for PKs didn't hurt.
In all honesty, however, there was another, more practical reason for narrowing my search to Presbyterian colleges. It simply made the list of possibilities somewhat more approachable. With hundreds of options, choosing a college seemed an overwhelming prospect, particularly since I was unsure of my career path. By saying "Presby-only," my list seemed reassuring and workable. It also seemed the perfect match for a person who proudly remembers the moment she learned to spell P-R-E-S-B-Y-T-E-R-I-A-N at the age of five.
But then the decision-making moment arrived. And I enrolled in a Baptist school.
Pulpit nominating committees need a lot more help than they are getting. For example, when I left my first pastorate, the pulpit nominating committee met and quickly agreed that whatever else, they did not want another minister who wore a beret and made pastoral calls riding a bicycle. They thought these practices were not only eccentric but weird then, in fact, one was thrifty and the other was theological.
Even though she and her husband lived in a single-room studio apartment during their two years in Ethiopia, our daughter-in-law found it necessary, and quite against her inclination, to employ domestic help. Without the laborsaving devices for cooking, cleaning and washing that American women take for granted, Sara had no other option if she wanted to continue to teach at the seminary in Addis Ababa.
I have read The Presbyterian Outlook since I was a student at Union Theological Seminary, and have continually been grateful for its usefulness. But I must say that when Ben Sparks was announced as its interim editor in February of 2004, the Outlook became much more fun to read.
Ben Sparks first introduced himself to me on the campus of Union Theological Seminary in the fall of 1968 or 1969. I was in my first or second year of seminary; Ben was a member of the Board of Trustees, one of the youngest trustees ever to serve on the board of Union, now Union-PSCE. Ben was living in Roanoke, serving as Urban Minister for Montgomery Presbytery staff. After college, I had spent a year working with an inner city Presbyterian congregation in Brooklyn, New York. Ben wanted to talk with me about that experience. As we visited that afternoon on the Union campus, a friendship based on mutual respect began.
Quickly, I realized that Ben had read more books than I, many more books; he kept up with journals far more than I. A member of the Iona Community in Scotland, Ben treasured participation in that worldwide ecumenical group. Those attributes, along with a keen mind, quick memory, and fun spirit made me eager to let the friendship grow.
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