Changing the World with Lentil Stew

So, apparently there’s now this new…group..or organization…or something…of “Seminaries that Change the World.”   

“Seminaries that Change the World is an invitation to a generation of idealists, activists, volunteers and servant-leaders who have demonstrated a commitment to community service and social justice.”

According to this website (and I should note that mostly the reason I care is that my alma mater, Luther Seminary, is a part of this group), people should consider going to seminary as a route to changing the world.

Ugh.

The leading quote on the website is, “Give me a place to stand, and I will move the earth,” supposedly uttered by Archimedes (about, um, physics, not metaphysics, but whatevs, right?).  Anyway…no quotes from the Bible.  Nothing about the words of Jesus or the empowerment of the Holy Spirit.  Not even anything about a generic non-denominational, genderless “God.”  

All, 100%, totally in curvatus se.  So, definitely something Lutherans would want to be involved with.  (For those of you who are sarcasm-impaired, that last sentence includes a gigantic eye roll.)

Now look, if they wanted to throw some Jewish or Muslim seminaries (is that what they’re even called?) on this list, and then they’d need to back away from the Jesus stuff a little, okay.  I get that it is possible to be a trained leader in a non-Christian religion, and I don’t begrudge people that. (I think they’re wrong, but I don’t begrudge them, and I certainly don’t want to take away their religious freedom to believe and practice as they see fit.)  

But.  But.  All of the schools in the group are Christian.  

And Christians know – or at least, they used to – that the only person who has any real power to change the world is Jesus Christ.  Even if you’re operating from the perspective that “changing the world” is coterminous with “God’s mission in the world,” you still have to contend with verses like Phillippians 2:13, “…it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”

It’s just not about you.  It’s just not about you.  Say it with me, Christians, it’s just not about you. 

Carl Braaten, in discussing the “Two Kingdoms Theory” says this: 

“Historical liberation and eternal salvation are not one and the same thing. They should not be equated. The gospel is not one of the truths we hold to be self-evident; it is not an inalienable right which the best government in the world can do anything about. There are many people fighting valiantly on the frontline of legitimate liberation movements who are not in the least animated by the gospel. The hope for liberation is burning in the hearts of millions of little people struggling to free themselves from the conditions of poverty and tyranny. When they win this freedom, should they be so fortunate, they have not automatically therewith gained the freedom for which Christ has set us free (Gal. 5:1).”

This is excellent.  It is utterly, and absolutely, perfectly stated.  Yay, Carl Braaten.  (Why, why, oh why are there no theologians like him left in “this church”?)  “Changing the world” is great, so far as it goes.  But if we learned anything last week from Jesus’ takedown of the Sadducees, it’s that “this world,” and all it has to offer, is not the last word, and it is certainly not the only thing we have to look forward to do.  

“Changing the world,” is, I suppose, a noble task.  But it is not, in and of itself, Christian ministry.  And Christian seminaries should know this.  If the best we can be about is “changing the world,” with a little sprinkle of Jesus on top, then what the hell are we doing????  

“If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied….If the dead are not raised, ‘let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” (1 Corinthians 15:19, 32)

Should seminaries be encouraging their students to live and practice the faith, and not just hunker down inside their own heads full of knowledge?  Of course.  Go forth, “change the world,” if that’s your thing.  So much good has been done, so much love has been shown, and so much gospel has been proclaimed in the concrete acts of love and mercy done by the Church throughout the ages, and let us pray that these might continue!

But these acts of love and mercy, of “changing the world,” have been done by a Church that was, as Braaten puts it, “animated by the gospel.”  By people who know that the death and resurrection of Jesus has already changed the world, and that we live and move and have our being on the basis of that reality.  Any so-called seminary that can’t see clear to that (and by choosing to associate with this “Seminaries that Change the World” it seems that they can’t) really doesn’t deserve to call itself Christian.  

Not only that, but the mission will ultimately fail.  Because “changing the world” comes from God, at the end of the day.  Because the problem with the world is not just that people aren't nice enough.  The problem with the world is sin, death, and the devil.  And the only - only - fix for that is Christ crucified.  Christ, and only Christ.  “Then the one who is seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’”  Not – “Then the one who is a nice person said ‘go out and make all things new.’” 

A seminary that is teaching its students to paint a veneer of religion over the mission of the Peace Corps is trading its rich heritage for a bowl of lentils, Jacob-and-Esau style.  

May the Lord have mercy upon us, and may He come quickly, to at last, once and for all, “change the world.”   

Kicking the Tires of Confirmation

I love – love – teaching confirmation.  Aside from typical middle school stuff – boys who haven’t learned to settle down and stop poking each other, girls who huddle in the bathroom mocking/liking the boys, the occasional forgotten assignment or lost Small Catechism, I’d put these kiddos up against almost any other confirmation class in the country.  When they decide to be thoughtful and attentive, they really are. They can condemn heresy (“Who’d want to be a Zwinglian? Is means is!”) or tell you about righteousness (“believing God not being good”), they ask great, mostly-on-topic questions, and on the whole, they are really just fabulous.  

I love teaching this age, because they’re actually hungry to learn – because it’s me in the classroom with 6 or 8 or 10 of them, and sometimes, once in a while, we have a moment where something just “clicks” for someone, and you can see it.  Their eyes light up, and there’s a second of recognition that this stuff is really real, and it’s really cool.  

I love confirmation because the kids care about one another.  Sure, there’s the requisite teasing and silliness, but at the end of the night, they’ll remember what was said an hour ago, and pray for one another.  They’re great.  

But I still feel like we’re missing something.  I expend a lot of energy trying to tell parents (and kids) that confirmation is not, not, NOT about checking items off a to-do list, or earning enough points to “graduate”.  Confirmation is not a sacrament, and being confirmed, or not, doesn’t make you a Christian, or not.  I try to plan the whole curriculum, and teach each class, around the idea that confirmation is about growing closer to God, about being able to say “yes” to the faith that they’ve been raised in, to “get it” in some perhaps small, but at least somewhat meaningful, way.  Which is why I still have “requirements”.  Even though confirmation isn’t about earning the right to graduate, I’m pretty comfortable saying that if kids aren’t in worship, if they aren’t learning – and practicing – how to pay attention in worship, if they aren’t figuring out how to lead devotions for the group, or taking time to love their neighbors, if they aren’t reflecting on what they’ve learned in class or worship, then it’s going to be pretty darn hard to have a substantial relationship with God.  We believe in a God who is incarnational – a God who came down here to earth and was a real, honest-to-goodness human being.  Who did and said certain specific things.  Who calls us into a relationship with him on the basis of his sacrifice, but who deepens and sustains that relationship over time by engagement with the means of grace, by a desire to “read, mark, and inwardly digest” his Word, by living as a follower and disciple of that God.  

This is what I want my kids to get.  This is what I want them to know.  This is the life I want them to have, even though none of us do it perfectly, and none of us is without sin.  I want them to know that forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation is for real – those promises at their baptism really did “take”, but that there’s more to it than that – or that there can be, if they’re interested, if they’re willing to take seriously the invitation to “draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.” (James 4:8)  But that’s a really big thing.  A really. big. thing.  I am asking them to try to wrap their hearts and minds and arms around a salvation, and an entire way of living, that is way bigger than them, and is unlike anything they have ever encountered.  And often, I am the only one nudging them in this direction.  

In common Lutheran parlance, confirmation is about “affirming your baptism”, “taking over” the faith your parents placed you into at baptism, “becoming a true adult member of the church”, and other such statements, that are meant, it seems, to make kids feel like confirmation is important and make old people feel like all is not lost and young kids today do still believe in Jesus.  

But there are two problems I see with this, the first being that many of them have no real faith to “take over” or “take charge of” from their parents.  Without being too blunt, a good number of children baptized in Lutheran churches today are brought to the font by parents who love them, and who have a vague sense of wanting them to be “good Christian kids who are nice and go to heaven.”  They bring their kids to church.  Sometimes.  On weekends when there’s not a hockey tournament out-of-town, and the weather’s not too bad, or we didn’t stay out too late at somebody’s wedding reception.  They teach their kids the Lord’s Prayer.  Possibly.  Sort of.  Most nights.  But the Creed? The Ten Commandments? Isn’t that what confirmation class is for?  By my reckoning, if I spend an hour per week in class with the kids, for two (school) years, I have spent 72 hours with them.  That's three days.  Three days may have raised Jesus from the dead, but I can no more teach 8th-graders to grasp the beauty and richness of the Christian faith in 72 hours than I can instill in them a love for Shakespeare in 72 hours.   

If “church” is an "extracurricular activity" in a child’s own home – then asking them to “take on the faith for themselves” after 2 years of confirmation class is like hoping they’ll one day decorate their spare bedroom the way mom did hers.  They might – if they happen to have similar taste to their mother, and a similar budget, and it reminds them of their mom and makes them feel warm and fuzzy inside.  Or they might not, you know, because they’re different people.  The vast majority of kids who play on hockey or dance teams will not play in college, and certainly not at the professional level.  If church is no more or less important in a family than hockey or dance, don’t be surprised when it falls by the wayside in college, just like other extracurricular activities.  So, to recap – we say we’re asking kids to “affirm their baptism” and “take on their faith”, but in reality, we are – not always, but mostly – starting from scratch and attempting to convert little baptized pagans.  

Second, we ask kids on their confirmation day, to be “adults in the faith,” or some such thing.  But at the age that most children are confirmed (13-15), they are not adults in any meaningful sense in any other area of their lives.  These are kids who still rely on their parents for transportation to the confirmation service itself.  They don’t pay their own cell phone bill, or buy their own food or clothing.  They are overwhelmed at the thought of having to pick a college and career in just a few years, and most of them cannot articulate with any degree of certainty more than the vaguest sense of what they’d like their life to turn out like.  They don’t do their own laundry, and the vast majority of them, in reasonably functional homes, are well aware that mom and dad are there to pick them up when they fall…or forget homework at home…or need money for that new cheer uniform…or forget to walk the dog…or lock themselves out of the house…or….  Not that this is not a bad thing.  We are talking about kids who are 14 years old.  This is not the olden days where marriage and kids and jobs and full-on adulthood is right around the corner.  But if they don’t do their own laundry or pack their own lunch or call their own locksmith, is it really fair to hand their faith over to them and say, “here you go!” ??  

Not that faith isn’t important.  Of course it is. It’s the most important thing.  Without a doubt.  But doesn’t that mean that we should give kids more support, not less?  Doesn’t it mean we should hold their hand a little longer?  Surround them with strong parental and community “raising in the faith” until later in life?  If you don’t learn how to do laundry before you go to college, you’ll figure it out quick when the bills for new clothes start piling up, or no one wants to hang out with you because your clothes all smell like dirty laundry.  But if you haven’t grasped hold of Christ’s promises, if you don’t really know where to turn when tough stuff happens – well, the situation might devolve more slowly than a laundry crisis, but it’s long-lasting impacts will be far, far worse, and likely far more difficult to correct.  

One of the problems in western society (and this is a whole other topic, so I’ll not dive into it too deeply) is that we largely lack “coming of age” rituals.  The biologic machinations of puberty or the attaining of a particular age used to be cause for celebration, for “entry into adulthood”; now they are a source of shame and embarrassment or wild expensive parties that rival weddings.  We haven’t the slightest idea how to teach our kids to be adults out in the real world – certainly not at the tender age of 14 – and so we settle for telling them that they’re a “real Christian, now” while ceding them zero control over anything else in their lives. 

Obviously there is way more to this than can be fixed in a day, in a year, in a single confirmation class at a single congregation.  There are huge cultural shifts at stake here, and patience, fortitude, and faithfulness is required on the part of parents, pastors, and churches.  But I wonder if we need to start by decoupling confirmation from middle/high school, and perhaps from a formal-program-ending-in-a-special-ceremony altogether.  What if we took all the resources – money, time, people – that we spend on a group of kids who haven’t even fully developed the executive processing functions of their brains – and transferred it to campus ministry, or young adult “programming”?  What if instead of thinking that kids who can’t even drive themselves to church on Sunday morning can honestly pledge to “decide for themselves to be faithful Christians and really believe this stuff and do it and possibly even die for it”, what if instead of that, we let kids be kids – taught them the basics of the faith – the Bible, the Catechism, etc – with no “end goal” besides the promises of God’s Kingdom in sight.  What if we, slowly, over time, taught them what it means to take faith seriously, how to integrate it into their lives, as their lives change?  What if we re-church-ified marriage prep, and spent as much time with soon-to-be high school or college grads as we do with pre-marital couples?

What if we stopped pressuring kids to “be adults” about their religious/theological/philosophical commitments and convictions when most of their own parents don’t even have that nailed down? 

Obviously I don’t have all the answers.  I mostly don’t even know where to start.  But these are just a few of the things I’ve been kicking around lately, and I’d love to hear thoughts from others, even as we pray, “Lord, may everything we do begin with your inspiration, continue with your help, and reach perfection under your guidance. We ask through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

30,000 Shades of Green

For those of us who live the Christian life, who see our life's vocation(s) in light of our baptisms, and who are given to believe, teach, and confess in accord with the traditional, historic, orthodox tenets of Christianity, life these days seems to be hard.

Clergy and laity both have bemoaned the fact that the Enemy, through a question as old as time, "Did God really say...?" seems to be winning.  For a great many of us, particularly those in "American mainline Protestantism", things are a mess.  Worship is no longer ordered with regard to Scriptural norms or ancient Church tradition, but rather "what people like."  The Kingdom of the Left is grossly confused with the Kingdom of the Right.  We dare not preach Law, or say no, to anyone or anything that isn't patently illegal, lest we be viewed as "unwelcoming."  Too often, the 3rd use of the law is conflated with the Gospel.  Church has become either a social club or a PAC with a thin veneer of Jesus painted over it. 

And frequently, unfairly, it seems that the laity who are concerned about these trends are stuck with pastors who buy into them, and vice versa.  It's an isolating thing, a situation that can cause anyone with the consciousness to notice and be concerned to feel as though they are trapped inside their own head - that no one understands, that everyone else thinks they are crazy, that maybe they really are crazy.  It can lead to a hunker-down mentality - a desire to close ranks within oneself, or to just...tolerate it, and not make waves.  Surely my pastor will retire soon.  Maybe I should look for a new call.  I'll probably die in the next 10 years, I can hang on until then.  If I just adopt a monastic approach to my ministry...

But as often happens, as depression and despair creeps in, late-night Googling takes hold over one's life.  And sooner or later you start to notice that there are other churches, other pastors, other pastures where the grass seems greener.  You start eavesdropping in coffee shops, or the employee lounge.  You start talking with clergy friends of other denominations, other Christian traditions.  You secretly read books and blogs and download sermons from other pastors, other priests.  They don't seem to have the same problems.  They love their jobs.  The laity love their pastors.  And so you, a lonely sheep, or despairing shepherd, start to stick one hoof, one shoelace under the fence.  You look longingly at the green, green grass.  On days when the wind is blowing the right direction, you can even smell it.  It smells like fresh air, like health and nutrition, like God Himself.  Sure, your pasture is safe, and familiar, and comfortable, but what a thrill it would be to taste that green, green grass.  To be in a flock who knows what good food really is, to have fellow shepherds who nurture their sheep the way you can only dream about.  And you, who loves the Good Shepherd so deeply, begin to wonder if it really is him who is inviting you to this green, green pasture.

If this is you, looking at one of the 30,000 (yes, really) Protestant denominations, to say nothing of the Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox of varying nationalities (and thus, personalities), and handful of Uniate and non-Chalcedonians, I want to offer a few words of advice: proceed with caution.  Not "don't proceed," but proceed with caution.  "The grass is always greener" is a cliche for a reason.  No pasture is perfect. Every pasture has cranky sheep who'd rather eat dirt, and shepherds who don't pay attention and lead the flock to a mud puddle instead of crystal clear still waters.  Every field has rocks to trip over and holes to sprain your ankle.  You cannot recover the "pure Church" - it simply doesn't exist, and it never did.  Peter Leithart says it well:

"Eden is not the golden time to which we return; it is the infancy from which we begin and grow up. The golden age is ahead, in the Edenic Jerusalem... And the church’s history is patterned in the same way too. It’s disorienting to think that we have to press ahead rather than try to discover or recover the safety of an achieved ecclesia, disorienting because we can’t know or predict the future. But it’s the only assumption Trinitarians can consistently make: The ecclesial peace we seek is not behind us, but in front. We get there by following the pillar of fire that leads us to a land we do not know."

But there are days when it is more difficult, days when you honestly want to bang your head against the wall, when you find yourself, like Elijah, believing that you are the only faithful one left.  On those days, remember this:

• God has already won the victory - this much we know.  But it is unlikely, ever, to look as though we are winning, on any of the fronts on which we fight. With the possible exception of the United Kingdom under David, this has always been true of God's people.  Don't expect that to change until the parousia.

• To steal Morton Blackwell's axiom, do not let the perfect become the enemy of the good. There are allies, or partial allies, clergy and laity, if we know where to look. This is the beauty and genius of Evangelicals and Catholics Together. It is very easy for those of us on the front lines to refuse the help of allies because they don't fly the exact same flag.  I have heard well-meaning, orthodox pastors and laity claim certain other pastors or congregations are second rate or "not real church" because...they don't chant the Eucharistic Prayer and/or the entire Gospel reading...or have an organist...or have small groups or enough youth programming (or because they do do those things!). But we do ourselves far more harm than good  when we start playing those sorts of games.  Pastors, remember that God has given you a serious job, and lay people, hold your pastors and fellow parishioners accountable to that task.  But also remember that none of us is Jesus.  We need only do the best we can, with the gifts and resources we've been given, in the beanplots we've been assigned, and support one another in that task as much as possible.  Surely that is enough for each of us to manage on any given day.

• Don't ever expect to overhaul the whole system.  Again, you have a beanplot.  And given Lutheran polity/ecclesiology, faithful reform and renewal, orthodox preaching and teaching, (re)introducing and sustaining traditional worship norms will take time, and it necessarily has to be done on a congregational basis. Presiding Bishop Eaton may have great respect for the liturgical traditions of the Church (and she did a great job with the Eucharistic liturgy at her installation, even though she seemed a bit nervous - but then, who wouldn't be?), but she has zero authority to make Pastor Olsen out in Podunk, Montana stop killing the Great Thanksgiving because his sermon ran too long. Each of us, in our own beanplots, needs to teach our plants the best that we are able, and pray for opportunities to share gardening tips with the stewards of the beanplots next door. Yet, at the end of the day, we are responsible for preaching the Word and administering the Sacraments (or holding those called accountable to their vows).  We are not responsible for what others choose to do or not do with the Word so preached and the Sacraments so administered. It is God who gives the growth.

• Discernment over congregational calls or membership, denominational alignment (ELCA vs. NALC vs. LCMS), or wholesale tradition change (L vs. TEC vs. RC) is important, and should be undertaken as the Spirit moves us to do so. As I said earlier, however, no congregation, denomination, or tradition is without flaws, failings, or faithless clergy and laity.  And further, what we earnestly believe, in our well-placed desire for purity, to be "discernment" may in reality be "distraction with shiny things" by the Enemy.  It's easy to waste a lot of time fretting about CAPITAL LETTERS when we could be visiting shut-ins or writing sermons.

• If the day comes when you must leave your pasture or your flock - when you are compelled by conscience or comfort or the Holy Spirit or just the sheer inability to hold on for one second longer, then go.  Do not look back, lest you turn into a pillar of salt.  Do not lean over the fence, squinty-eyed, looking to see if the green grass has started to grow in your former pasture, and expressing schadenfreude when it hasn't.  Do not gossip about the sheep or shepherds you have left behind, or seek to destroy them - the Eighth Commandment still applies.  If you must go, go with your heart in the right place.  Go in peace + and serve the Lord.

Finally, above all, and regardless of anything else, we simply must trust that the Holy Spirit will still continue to enlighten and sanctify the Whole Christian Church.  So long as we have Christ - and we do - there is hope for all of us yet.  Despair is not a good look for Christians, and we have no cause for it anyway.  The gates of hell will not prevail.  I love this Sunday's reading from II Timothy: "when we are faithless, He is faithful".  I am faithless on a far-too-frequent basis, and I need to hear, over, and over, and over again that not only does God forgive me, but that His purposes cannot be thwarted by my failures and faithlessness.  When we cannot stand one second longer in the presence of "those people", whoever they may be, we are nevertheless compelled to believe that the same God is just as loving and gracious and faithful towards them, as he is to us.
  
Faithful service to God and His people, holding fast to the hope we profess is not easy.  But it never has been.  And so, dear faithful, faithless, sinner, saintly ones: as you sift through the 30,000 shades of green, find your allies, and tend your beanplot, remember this: "Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the age."