Throughout July I have been preaching a sermon series and leading a Bible Study on Paul's Letter to the Galatians. It has been a helpful exercise to lead the congregation through this kind of biblical journey.
Below is what I wrote for our July Newsletter about the nature of Christian freedom, picking up on Paul's definition of freedom in Galatians.
As Americans we love to celebrate Independence Day. It is a time to affirm Jefferson's famous "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Despite the imperfections of our political system, we enjoy tremendous freedom. The American experience has been an "experiment," but it has also been a journey: a journey toward realizing the promise of freedom.
And yet, we are reminded as Christians that we must be careful not to define the freedoms we enjoy as simply "freedom to" or "freedom from," but to understand that the real test is how we will use our freedom to serve others. Paul's caution to the Galatians is worth noting: we are most free when we surrender to Christ, and when we use our freedom to benefit others (5:13). It is a paradox, to be sure, and one worthy examining: we must take care not to confuse liberty for license (5:19). Instead, we must understand that with freedom comes responsibility. To see freedom as something we can use without limits or boundaries can lead to our destruction. History is littered with the remains of such a notion. Without string, the kite flies away. The same with freedom: freedom can go off in all kinds of directions unless it is grounded, that is, unless it is grounded in Christ.
The political and personal freedoms we celebrate remind us that our freedom needs grounding. It needs to remember that there is a cost, and that the cost is very high, indeed, extremely high. It needs to remember that unless freedom is tied to service for others it remains empty and without promise, indeed, it is without Christ.
"For freedom Christ has set us free..."
Friday, July 23, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Interruptions and Ministry
It was almost month ago, when I returned home from the Wesleyan Connexion Project, that I encountered the messiness and beauty of ministry. I had been away for three days, and I was looking toward making a transition as I prepared to leave the next day for Annual Conference. The only way I feel I can describe what happened is to give a minute by minute account of what we face in the ministry. As Dick Hamilton, a retired United Methodist pastor, explained to us in a round-table discussion, we "move in and out of so many situations so fast that we have no excuse to say that what we do as pastors is boring." There is wisdom in that statement.
The best way to describe what happened on that day is simply to break down the time frame of when I pulled up to the church and when I eventually made it home.
4:00 p.m. - I arrive back at Grace Church from the Wesleyan Connexion Project at the Univesity of Indianapolis. We had a productive time with our seminarians in training.
4:05 p.m. - Before I shut the door of my car, I am greeted by a member whose family life is chaotic. The look in his eyes tells me things are not good. We talk for over twenty minutes. Finally, we have prayer in the parking lot.
4:25 p.m. - Walking into the church I meet one of our Lay Leaders. We chat and greet one another.
4:35 p.m. - I walk into my office. There are two notes on my computer telling me I need to call persons about one of our Bible Studies.
4:40 p.m. - I check my email and find a couple notes I need to address.
4:45 p.m. - The Case Worker with our Good Samaritan Ministry walks into my Study and shares with me several concerns about persons who have come to Grace to receive assistance. We talk about the steps we need to take.
5:00 p.m. - I remember I need to visit a family that is moving to Kentucky. A young couple in the Army is being transferred to Fort Knox. I travel to the home several blocks away and have prayer with the family.
5:30 p.m. - I pull into the driveway. Peggy reminds me that we have an appointment at the Franklin United Methodist Community. We head out and make our way across town.
6:00 p.m. - We arrive at the Community and have dinner with one of the residents.
7:30 p.m. - We make our way back home.
And who says ministry is boring?
I think it was C. S. Lewis, and a few others I am sure, who talked about finding God amidst the interruptions of life. Paying attention to what the Spirit is saying at all times is a discipline of the first order. God speaks out of the whirlwind of activity.
I pray that those who walk in this vocation of ministry may see the beauty of God amidst the many demands and challenges and opportunities. Who knows, we may be entertaining angels unawares (Hebrews 13:2)!
The best way to describe what happened on that day is simply to break down the time frame of when I pulled up to the church and when I eventually made it home.
4:00 p.m. - I arrive back at Grace Church from the Wesleyan Connexion Project at the Univesity of Indianapolis. We had a productive time with our seminarians in training.
4:05 p.m. - Before I shut the door of my car, I am greeted by a member whose family life is chaotic. The look in his eyes tells me things are not good. We talk for over twenty minutes. Finally, we have prayer in the parking lot.
4:25 p.m. - Walking into the church I meet one of our Lay Leaders. We chat and greet one another.
4:35 p.m. - I walk into my office. There are two notes on my computer telling me I need to call persons about one of our Bible Studies.
4:40 p.m. - I check my email and find a couple notes I need to address.
4:45 p.m. - The Case Worker with our Good Samaritan Ministry walks into my Study and shares with me several concerns about persons who have come to Grace to receive assistance. We talk about the steps we need to take.
5:00 p.m. - I remember I need to visit a family that is moving to Kentucky. A young couple in the Army is being transferred to Fort Knox. I travel to the home several blocks away and have prayer with the family.
5:30 p.m. - I pull into the driveway. Peggy reminds me that we have an appointment at the Franklin United Methodist Community. We head out and make our way across town.
6:00 p.m. - We arrive at the Community and have dinner with one of the residents.
7:30 p.m. - We make our way back home.
And who says ministry is boring?
I think it was C. S. Lewis, and a few others I am sure, who talked about finding God amidst the interruptions of life. Paying attention to what the Spirit is saying at all times is a discipline of the first order. God speaks out of the whirlwind of activity.
I pray that those who walk in this vocation of ministry may see the beauty of God amidst the many demands and challenges and opportunities. Who knows, we may be entertaining angels unawares (Hebrews 13:2)!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Reflections on Annual Conference: Asking the Right Questions
The article below appears in the next Together Paper of the New Indiana Conference.
Driving home from Annual Conference, I felt disconnected. I knew something wasn't right, but what was it? Were my expectations too high? Were my expectations different than the expectations of the planners? Was it the business of the church, the many motions and amendments on pensions and health care? Was it the question around why some churches tithe and others don't, or was it sitting in a huge auditorium wondering if this is what Wesley had in mind when Methodism began? Were we even asking the right questions?
To be sure, since the early days of Methodism, the church has undergone change, sometimes necessary, always messy. The denominations that now comprise The United Methodist Church have had many different forms of connection, from corporate to federalist models, to name two. Organizational styles have also varied depending on larger patterns of organization in the culture. Not always have Methodists "conferred" well together.
Perhaps this recognition made me realize the obvious: Regardless of organizational structures, we can never escape our history and need for God's grace. We can never forget we stand line with Christians who sought the Spirit's direction and found ways of offering Christ; such persons also faced challenges not unlike our own, yet discovered God's faithfulness in their midst. They were willing to ask hard questions and test the Spirit's movement.
Like all organizations we in the church can fall into the temptation of focusing solely on the human side of the equation; we can throw up our hands and say, "What's the point?" Or, we can become so critical we slip into cyncism and say, "Why bother"? And yet, deep within, we also know, "There is more"! Perhaps this is where we can learn from the early Methodists.
In June 1744 John Wesley and the societies in London and Bristol that had grown needed a way to confer about the workings of the Holy Spirit and the direction the Methodists needed to go. They needed a means of seeking God's grace amidst the demands of an expanding movement. In short, they needed ways of comforting and strengthening one another. Or, as Wesley himself asserted, they needed the wisdom of others to learn how to save "not only the souls of those who heard us but also our own."
In early Methodism a Conference was meant to seek the leading of the Spirit and to gather those whose spiritual insights Wesley knew he needed. In fact, as the early records indicate, a Conference was to be guided by three basic questions.
1. What to teach;
2. How to teach;
3. What to do; that is how to regulate our doctrine, discipline, and practice.
Within these questions other questions would also be addressed. The goal was on seeking clarity and coming to grips with the essentials of the mission. Confering with one another was intended to be a spiritual practice.
Maybe this was the disconnect I was feeling. Was it the yearning for grace amidst the "business" on the floor? Was it the recognition that a Conference in the Wesleyan tradition does not begin with a series of motions and "whereas" clauses, but with a series of questions: What are we teaching and how are we teaching it? How are we practicing our doctrine and holding one another accountable? How are we seeking the Holy Spirit's direction?
Perhaps Wesley's own concerns are still relevant: Unless we are connected to the power of the Spirit that began 2000 years ago in Jerusalem and swept the ends of the earth, we might as well cease to exit (Acts 1:8). The United Methodist Church only matters if it is part of God's redeeming mission in the world. To understand that mission, however, requires prayer and discernment, and true prayer and discernment requires an attentive community, a community willing to ask the right questions as it also seeks to move with the Spirit.
I don't know if others felt the way I did driving home from Conference. It is hard to gauge such a large gathering. And yet, I wonder what it would mean to have our Conference, congregations, and agencies shaped by the above three questions. After all, it may be, as it was for Wesley and the early Methodists that our attention to how we respond to these questions may not only concern the souls of those we seek to save, but our own as well.
Driving home from Annual Conference, I felt disconnected. I knew something wasn't right, but what was it? Were my expectations too high? Were my expectations different than the expectations of the planners? Was it the business of the church, the many motions and amendments on pensions and health care? Was it the question around why some churches tithe and others don't, or was it sitting in a huge auditorium wondering if this is what Wesley had in mind when Methodism began? Were we even asking the right questions?
To be sure, since the early days of Methodism, the church has undergone change, sometimes necessary, always messy. The denominations that now comprise The United Methodist Church have had many different forms of connection, from corporate to federalist models, to name two. Organizational styles have also varied depending on larger patterns of organization in the culture. Not always have Methodists "conferred" well together.
Perhaps this recognition made me realize the obvious: Regardless of organizational structures, we can never escape our history and need for God's grace. We can never forget we stand line with Christians who sought the Spirit's direction and found ways of offering Christ; such persons also faced challenges not unlike our own, yet discovered God's faithfulness in their midst. They were willing to ask hard questions and test the Spirit's movement.
Like all organizations we in the church can fall into the temptation of focusing solely on the human side of the equation; we can throw up our hands and say, "What's the point?" Or, we can become so critical we slip into cyncism and say, "Why bother"? And yet, deep within, we also know, "There is more"! Perhaps this is where we can learn from the early Methodists.
In June 1744 John Wesley and the societies in London and Bristol that had grown needed a way to confer about the workings of the Holy Spirit and the direction the Methodists needed to go. They needed a means of seeking God's grace amidst the demands of an expanding movement. In short, they needed ways of comforting and strengthening one another. Or, as Wesley himself asserted, they needed the wisdom of others to learn how to save "not only the souls of those who heard us but also our own."
In early Methodism a Conference was meant to seek the leading of the Spirit and to gather those whose spiritual insights Wesley knew he needed. In fact, as the early records indicate, a Conference was to be guided by three basic questions.
1. What to teach;
2. How to teach;
3. What to do; that is how to regulate our doctrine, discipline, and practice.
Within these questions other questions would also be addressed. The goal was on seeking clarity and coming to grips with the essentials of the mission. Confering with one another was intended to be a spiritual practice.
Maybe this was the disconnect I was feeling. Was it the yearning for grace amidst the "business" on the floor? Was it the recognition that a Conference in the Wesleyan tradition does not begin with a series of motions and "whereas" clauses, but with a series of questions: What are we teaching and how are we teaching it? How are we practicing our doctrine and holding one another accountable? How are we seeking the Holy Spirit's direction?
Perhaps Wesley's own concerns are still relevant: Unless we are connected to the power of the Spirit that began 2000 years ago in Jerusalem and swept the ends of the earth, we might as well cease to exit (Acts 1:8). The United Methodist Church only matters if it is part of God's redeeming mission in the world. To understand that mission, however, requires prayer and discernment, and true prayer and discernment requires an attentive community, a community willing to ask the right questions as it also seeks to move with the Spirit.
I don't know if others felt the way I did driving home from Conference. It is hard to gauge such a large gathering. And yet, I wonder what it would mean to have our Conference, congregations, and agencies shaped by the above three questions. After all, it may be, as it was for Wesley and the early Methodists that our attention to how we respond to these questions may not only concern the souls of those we seek to save, but our own as well.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Rethinking Church and Gambling
In the next edition of the HUM, I will have an article about "Rethinking Church & Gambling." Please read below and send me comments. I hope we can begin a conversation about the church's mission in a post-Christendom context, especially in Indiana. Here is what will appear:
The other day I spoke with a United Methodist Friend of mine who said he enjoyed gambling. He said he didn't gamble to make money, but only to have a good time. It was more recreational than habitual. Playing the lottery or going to the casino was a source of entertainment.
It would be interesting to know how many times the above conversation takes place around Indiana. Now that gambling seems to be a permanent fixture there are plenty of occasions to speak with the "recreational gambler." And, who knows, such a person may occupy a pew or two in our own church? At least my friend does.
Over the past year United Methodists across the connection have been encouraged to "rethink church." It's our church's latest slogan or catch-phrase. Not to throw cold water on it, but it does hold some promise: How may we rethink church in light of our Wesleyan heritage when it comes to various social issues, gambling in particular?
Twenty years ago when I was ordained, the gambling industry was just beginning in Indiana. As a denomination we thought we would be able to hold off loteries and horse parks. Our church's collective efforts seemed worthwhile; casinos and betting parlors seemed unlikely.
Today, the landscape looks different: Indiana is a leader in legalized gambling revenues. The state looks to these revenues for supporty, especially after cutting other sources of revenue, public funding for schools for example. A financially struggling state looks to receive gambling's win-fall.
To date, however, the gambling industry in Indiana and elsewhere doesn't appear to be disappearing. On the other hand, one wonders if we as United Methodists have thrown up the white flag. As our Methodist forebears were unable to stop the distribution of alcohol during prohibition so it now seems we are unable to stop gambling. The Wesleyan vision of mission to reform the nation and spread scriptural holiness seems to have stalled, if not stopped.
And yet, our Social Principles state very clearly that "gambling is a menance to society, deadly to the best interests of moral, social, economic, and spiritual life, and destructive of good government and stewardship. As an act of faith and concern, Christians should abstain from gambling and should strive to minister to those victimized by the practice." Surely, we can hear the Wesleyan emphasis to "do no harm" and "do good" both collectively and individually. The General Rules echo in the background.
But there is a problem: It is very difficult to reform what we cannot resist. If we as United Methodists cannot abstain from gambling (as my friend above can't), then what influence do we really have? If holiness of heart and life cannot begin here, then where will it?
Perhaps this is where we can begin to rethink church: First, we can begin by practicing an ethic of resistance as a whole church body. If our holiness is not social holiness, then our efforts, however good, will simply remain invisible. Our witness will have lost its saltiness. Viewing gambling as "undesirable" is surely one of our tasks of preaching and teaching.
Second, we can support our Gambling Recovery Ministries led by Janet Jacobs in the new Indiana Conference. Ours is one of the few Annual Conferences in the country that carries out healing ministries to those victimized by the practice of gambling. Prayerfully, we can find other ways to expand in this area as we offer God's healing grace.
And third, we can find creative ways of re-engaging in a mission of reform that works to promote standards of justice and advocacy. Over the years, few have carried this banner. But we can only imagine what would happend if others would also begin to make noise with our public officials. It takes the church to engage the principalities and powers, not simply a few passionate servants. "Speaking the truth in love" to the false claims of gambling's so-called benefits to the common good is a long-term commitment.
In short, all three of these strategies are necessary if we are to be true to our own Wesleyan understanding of ministry. We cannot separate resistance, recovery, and reform and expect otherwise. Surely, the people called United Methodist in Indiana can begin to rethink church along these lines. Hopefully, we can imagine new ways to continue this vital witness and mission.
Andy Kinsey
The other day I spoke with a United Methodist Friend of mine who said he enjoyed gambling. He said he didn't gamble to make money, but only to have a good time. It was more recreational than habitual. Playing the lottery or going to the casino was a source of entertainment.
It would be interesting to know how many times the above conversation takes place around Indiana. Now that gambling seems to be a permanent fixture there are plenty of occasions to speak with the "recreational gambler." And, who knows, such a person may occupy a pew or two in our own church? At least my friend does.
Over the past year United Methodists across the connection have been encouraged to "rethink church." It's our church's latest slogan or catch-phrase. Not to throw cold water on it, but it does hold some promise: How may we rethink church in light of our Wesleyan heritage when it comes to various social issues, gambling in particular?
Twenty years ago when I was ordained, the gambling industry was just beginning in Indiana. As a denomination we thought we would be able to hold off loteries and horse parks. Our church's collective efforts seemed worthwhile; casinos and betting parlors seemed unlikely.
Today, the landscape looks different: Indiana is a leader in legalized gambling revenues. The state looks to these revenues for supporty, especially after cutting other sources of revenue, public funding for schools for example. A financially struggling state looks to receive gambling's win-fall.
To date, however, the gambling industry in Indiana and elsewhere doesn't appear to be disappearing. On the other hand, one wonders if we as United Methodists have thrown up the white flag. As our Methodist forebears were unable to stop the distribution of alcohol during prohibition so it now seems we are unable to stop gambling. The Wesleyan vision of mission to reform the nation and spread scriptural holiness seems to have stalled, if not stopped.
And yet, our Social Principles state very clearly that "gambling is a menance to society, deadly to the best interests of moral, social, economic, and spiritual life, and destructive of good government and stewardship. As an act of faith and concern, Christians should abstain from gambling and should strive to minister to those victimized by the practice." Surely, we can hear the Wesleyan emphasis to "do no harm" and "do good" both collectively and individually. The General Rules echo in the background.
But there is a problem: It is very difficult to reform what we cannot resist. If we as United Methodists cannot abstain from gambling (as my friend above can't), then what influence do we really have? If holiness of heart and life cannot begin here, then where will it?
Perhaps this is where we can begin to rethink church: First, we can begin by practicing an ethic of resistance as a whole church body. If our holiness is not social holiness, then our efforts, however good, will simply remain invisible. Our witness will have lost its saltiness. Viewing gambling as "undesirable" is surely one of our tasks of preaching and teaching.
Second, we can support our Gambling Recovery Ministries led by Janet Jacobs in the new Indiana Conference. Ours is one of the few Annual Conferences in the country that carries out healing ministries to those victimized by the practice of gambling. Prayerfully, we can find other ways to expand in this area as we offer God's healing grace.
And third, we can find creative ways of re-engaging in a mission of reform that works to promote standards of justice and advocacy. Over the years, few have carried this banner. But we can only imagine what would happend if others would also begin to make noise with our public officials. It takes the church to engage the principalities and powers, not simply a few passionate servants. "Speaking the truth in love" to the false claims of gambling's so-called benefits to the common good is a long-term commitment.
In short, all three of these strategies are necessary if we are to be true to our own Wesleyan understanding of ministry. We cannot separate resistance, recovery, and reform and expect otherwise. Surely, the people called United Methodist in Indiana can begin to rethink church along these lines. Hopefully, we can imagine new ways to continue this vital witness and mission.
Andy Kinsey
Thursday, February 11, 2010
The Elusive Tony Campolo
On Tuesday, amidst the snow and wind, I made my way to Franklin College to hear Tony Campolo, preacher and social activist. Over a hundred students and faculty plowed through the snow to hear what he had to say. The chapel was full. After all, Campolo is a dynamic speaker. He knows how to inspire and motivate. It was vintage Campolo. I wasn't disappointed.
Or, was I? Upon reflection, I realized how far I have traveled in my own theological journey. The Pietism of my past has been challenged, and, hopefully, corrected by the gleanings from Orthodoxy. A whole new world has been opened.
However, upon hearing Campolo I recognized (again) the deep flaws that characterize Protestantism in America. To be sure, I resonate deeply with Campolo's passion for the poor. There is no doubt we are on the same page. His critique of the Pat Robertson's and Joel Olsteen's of the world are on target.
However, I must say that as I was sitting there listening to Campolo a gulf began to open between him and me. I saw how divided the church is in this country, and I realized how shallow our notions of the church are. In fact, it is becoming clearer to me that most folks have little conception of the church and what the nature and purpose of the church are about. That's where I began to question Campolo's own use of scripture and the ways he utilizes the Baptist tradition to offer critique.
For example, as I stated in my last blog, I have come to see how we can appropriate the Epiclesis in our practice of Holy Communion. The Lord's Supper is not simply a Memorial Meal, but the presence of Christ in our midst. How such presence is communicated remains a mystery, of course, but the bread and wine come to us as Christ's body and blood. As Campolo made clear, bread is bread and the wine is wine. Period!
Second, it is also clear after hearing Campolo that he operates out of a notion of scripture that gets to what I would call "the one who has the most verses on your side wins." Yes, the Bible has over two thousands verses indicating how the people of Israel and the church are to deal with the poor. Jesus ate with sinners and outcasts. He worked and ministered among the oppressed. In many ways, he was a revolutionary. There is no getting around it. As Campolo stated because there are more verses dealing with these issues the other issues simply must take a back seat. The minimalist mantra is well-known in some circles of the church: because the Bible says little about it, then we need to say little about it too. What matters is how the church is perceived by others in the public.
Campolo is right to bring our attention to the intolerance and bigotry that exists in some quarters of the Christian community. But I am wondering, though, if this minimalist strategy of biblical interpretation really carries water anymore. Persons have deep disagreements about abortion, terrorism, homosexual behavior, divorce, etc.; the list is quite lengthy. And yet, I also wonder how the church can begin reading scripture together. Is it even possible that a Campolo and an Olsteen can sit down and search the scriptures together? Can we even imagine such a possibility? I fear not.
What Campolo was espousing was simply another twist to the old strategy of finding what appeals to him and then sticking to his guns in making the appeal. Here, the poor have the privileged position. While this is certainly not false, it is also not the whole story. The Bible says many other things too! And while discerning God's truth is not simply about counting verses and seeing how I agree or disagree with those verses, it is also about struggling with ways I can speak the truth in love and practice justice for all God's children - rich and poor.
It was hard to pin down Campolo on some what he said the other day. I don't hold that against him. Sometimes we preachers can say all kinds of things. And yet, as we move into the future, I can certainly see how we are moving more and more into what Billy Abraham and others have called a post-Protestant age: a time of increased fragmentation of the church and the inability of the church to discern how it may even come to agreement on the treasures it possesses. It is a concern that goes to the heart of who we will become. I just don't think counting and adding up Bible verses will be the only way to go.
Andy Kinsey
Or, was I? Upon reflection, I realized how far I have traveled in my own theological journey. The Pietism of my past has been challenged, and, hopefully, corrected by the gleanings from Orthodoxy. A whole new world has been opened.
However, upon hearing Campolo I recognized (again) the deep flaws that characterize Protestantism in America. To be sure, I resonate deeply with Campolo's passion for the poor. There is no doubt we are on the same page. His critique of the Pat Robertson's and Joel Olsteen's of the world are on target.
However, I must say that as I was sitting there listening to Campolo a gulf began to open between him and me. I saw how divided the church is in this country, and I realized how shallow our notions of the church are. In fact, it is becoming clearer to me that most folks have little conception of the church and what the nature and purpose of the church are about. That's where I began to question Campolo's own use of scripture and the ways he utilizes the Baptist tradition to offer critique.
For example, as I stated in my last blog, I have come to see how we can appropriate the Epiclesis in our practice of Holy Communion. The Lord's Supper is not simply a Memorial Meal, but the presence of Christ in our midst. How such presence is communicated remains a mystery, of course, but the bread and wine come to us as Christ's body and blood. As Campolo made clear, bread is bread and the wine is wine. Period!
Second, it is also clear after hearing Campolo that he operates out of a notion of scripture that gets to what I would call "the one who has the most verses on your side wins." Yes, the Bible has over two thousands verses indicating how the people of Israel and the church are to deal with the poor. Jesus ate with sinners and outcasts. He worked and ministered among the oppressed. In many ways, he was a revolutionary. There is no getting around it. As Campolo stated because there are more verses dealing with these issues the other issues simply must take a back seat. The minimalist mantra is well-known in some circles of the church: because the Bible says little about it, then we need to say little about it too. What matters is how the church is perceived by others in the public.
Campolo is right to bring our attention to the intolerance and bigotry that exists in some quarters of the Christian community. But I am wondering, though, if this minimalist strategy of biblical interpretation really carries water anymore. Persons have deep disagreements about abortion, terrorism, homosexual behavior, divorce, etc.; the list is quite lengthy. And yet, I also wonder how the church can begin reading scripture together. Is it even possible that a Campolo and an Olsteen can sit down and search the scriptures together? Can we even imagine such a possibility? I fear not.
What Campolo was espousing was simply another twist to the old strategy of finding what appeals to him and then sticking to his guns in making the appeal. Here, the poor have the privileged position. While this is certainly not false, it is also not the whole story. The Bible says many other things too! And while discerning God's truth is not simply about counting verses and seeing how I agree or disagree with those verses, it is also about struggling with ways I can speak the truth in love and practice justice for all God's children - rich and poor.
It was hard to pin down Campolo on some what he said the other day. I don't hold that against him. Sometimes we preachers can say all kinds of things. And yet, as we move into the future, I can certainly see how we are moving more and more into what Billy Abraham and others have called a post-Protestant age: a time of increased fragmentation of the church and the inability of the church to discern how it may even come to agreement on the treasures it possesses. It is a concern that goes to the heart of who we will become. I just don't think counting and adding up Bible verses will be the only way to go.
Andy Kinsey
Sunday, February 7, 2010
The Epiclesis and Ecclesial Imagination
It has been a while since I have written, so forgive me! I don't know where January went, but I can tell you it went fast! Before I knew it, the month completely escaped me. The whole discipline of keeping time is not an illusion, but a necessity!
One of the reasons I have not posted a blog is because I spent a week at Southern Methodist University at the Center for Missional Wisdom. There, I spent time with "Billy" Abraham and Norman Russell, one of the world's foremost scholars of Orthodoxy. In seminars, we dealt with key texts relating to Orthodoxy as well as to Orthodoxy and Mission. We also dealt with the nature and purpose of practical theology. To be sure, it was a stimulating and challenging week.
During my time at SMU I was able to present a proposal that I hope to research more fully in the coming years. More and more, I have become interested in the role of the imagination in pastoral ministry. I have become interested in the relationship between revelation and imagination, and with the way God forms the imagination through the workings of the Spirit and church. As I will share below, I am especially interested in how our invocation of God's Spirit in the Eucharistic Epiclesis gives shape to what Craig Dykstra calls the "ecclesial imagination." I am also interested in how the Wesleys understood the Epiclesis for the life of ministry and mission.
There is more here than I can write at the moment, but I do want to summarize why I think the Epiclesis is important for the life of faith and for the formation of the imagination.
First, at the core of what I want to propose is the following: at the heart of the Christian life is a real knowledge of God and that this knowledge gives substance and form to our imagination. I want to argue that critical to the formation of our imagination is the invocation of the Holy Spirit, or the Epiclesis upon the bread and wine - and that implicit in this invocation is a communal pedagogy of transformation that is key to opening up the imagination to God's creative and sustaining work. It is in the Epiclesis, in other words, that we recall the descent of the Spirit in Jesus in the Incarnation; that is, we remember how Christ was made into God's saving instrument capable of sanctifying those who come into contact with him and how Christ is made real in the world.
Second, it is through the Epiclesis that we share in the Eucharist which gives voice to the Spirit's role in making the bread and wine into the means of grace for those who partake and which expresses the Spirit's activity upon those in the prayerful assembly. It is through the Epiclesis that we invoke the Spirit upon the church (as in Pentecost), and unite with the church through the ages. With the invocation of the Spirit God makes it possible to not only receive but also to offer Christ's forgiving grace to others. It is in the Epiclesis that the Spirit makes the church into the body of Christ for the world and brings into existence a new community of redemption and freedom.
And third, it is through the Epiclesis that we enter into the dynamic movement of the Holy Spirit, "seeing in depth" what God is doing in our lives and in the world and discerning who we are and what we need to do. In the Eucharist, and specifically in the Epiclesis, we participate in that reality which transforms human knowledge and perception - cognitively and affectionately - and helps us to envision new possibilities for being in ministry with God and others. In faith and in prayer we see anew how, through the Spirit, we are drawn into creative ways of flourishing and serving: as the bread and wine are sanctified into the vehicles of God's grace, so we are sanctified and intentionally set apart as instruments of God's love for the world.
I share these "thoughts" as seeds waiting to blossom. I don't know where I may go with what I have written, but I would like to read more about the Epiclesis and the role of the imagination in terms of seeing in depth. In the United Methodist Church, when we prepare to come to the Table, we pray that God will pour out his Holy Spirit on us and on the gifts of bread and wine. We pray that God will make the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, and that God will make us into the body of Christ for the world, redeemed by Christ's blood. In addition, we pray that by the Holy Spirit God will make us one in Christ and with one another, and that God will make us one in ministry to all the world until Christ finally comes and we feast at his heavenly banquet.
I am not sure people in the pews fully know what to do with these amazing statements, but I am convinced that the seeds of the church's renewal are planted deep within them, and that implicit in the practice of Epiclesis is a kind of Pentecostal-sacramental, missional-communal, vocational-practical vision of what the church is. Perhaps this is what a truly Missional Methodism is all about. I hope to write more in the days ahead.
Andy
One of the reasons I have not posted a blog is because I spent a week at Southern Methodist University at the Center for Missional Wisdom. There, I spent time with "Billy" Abraham and Norman Russell, one of the world's foremost scholars of Orthodoxy. In seminars, we dealt with key texts relating to Orthodoxy as well as to Orthodoxy and Mission. We also dealt with the nature and purpose of practical theology. To be sure, it was a stimulating and challenging week.
During my time at SMU I was able to present a proposal that I hope to research more fully in the coming years. More and more, I have become interested in the role of the imagination in pastoral ministry. I have become interested in the relationship between revelation and imagination, and with the way God forms the imagination through the workings of the Spirit and church. As I will share below, I am especially interested in how our invocation of God's Spirit in the Eucharistic Epiclesis gives shape to what Craig Dykstra calls the "ecclesial imagination." I am also interested in how the Wesleys understood the Epiclesis for the life of ministry and mission.
There is more here than I can write at the moment, but I do want to summarize why I think the Epiclesis is important for the life of faith and for the formation of the imagination.
First, at the core of what I want to propose is the following: at the heart of the Christian life is a real knowledge of God and that this knowledge gives substance and form to our imagination. I want to argue that critical to the formation of our imagination is the invocation of the Holy Spirit, or the Epiclesis upon the bread and wine - and that implicit in this invocation is a communal pedagogy of transformation that is key to opening up the imagination to God's creative and sustaining work. It is in the Epiclesis, in other words, that we recall the descent of the Spirit in Jesus in the Incarnation; that is, we remember how Christ was made into God's saving instrument capable of sanctifying those who come into contact with him and how Christ is made real in the world.
Second, it is through the Epiclesis that we share in the Eucharist which gives voice to the Spirit's role in making the bread and wine into the means of grace for those who partake and which expresses the Spirit's activity upon those in the prayerful assembly. It is through the Epiclesis that we invoke the Spirit upon the church (as in Pentecost), and unite with the church through the ages. With the invocation of the Spirit God makes it possible to not only receive but also to offer Christ's forgiving grace to others. It is in the Epiclesis that the Spirit makes the church into the body of Christ for the world and brings into existence a new community of redemption and freedom.
And third, it is through the Epiclesis that we enter into the dynamic movement of the Holy Spirit, "seeing in depth" what God is doing in our lives and in the world and discerning who we are and what we need to do. In the Eucharist, and specifically in the Epiclesis, we participate in that reality which transforms human knowledge and perception - cognitively and affectionately - and helps us to envision new possibilities for being in ministry with God and others. In faith and in prayer we see anew how, through the Spirit, we are drawn into creative ways of flourishing and serving: as the bread and wine are sanctified into the vehicles of God's grace, so we are sanctified and intentionally set apart as instruments of God's love for the world.
I share these "thoughts" as seeds waiting to blossom. I don't know where I may go with what I have written, but I would like to read more about the Epiclesis and the role of the imagination in terms of seeing in depth. In the United Methodist Church, when we prepare to come to the Table, we pray that God will pour out his Holy Spirit on us and on the gifts of bread and wine. We pray that God will make the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, and that God will make us into the body of Christ for the world, redeemed by Christ's blood. In addition, we pray that by the Holy Spirit God will make us one in Christ and with one another, and that God will make us one in ministry to all the world until Christ finally comes and we feast at his heavenly banquet.
I am not sure people in the pews fully know what to do with these amazing statements, but I am convinced that the seeds of the church's renewal are planted deep within them, and that implicit in the practice of Epiclesis is a kind of Pentecostal-sacramental, missional-communal, vocational-practical vision of what the church is. Perhaps this is what a truly Missional Methodism is all about. I hope to write more in the days ahead.
Andy
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Hospitality to Strangers
One of the best books I have read is Luke Bretherton's book "Hospitality as Holiness: Christian Witness Amid Moral Diversity." Bretherton, who teaches at King's College in London, writes how Christ's life, death, and resurrection constitutes the ground of welcoming strangers. To be recipients of Christian hospitality we do not have to do or be anything. Rather, we are welcomed because welcoming the stranger is to both follow faithfully in the footsteps of Jesus Christ and is a mark of openness to Christ. A distinctive feature of Jesus' ministry was his open commensality and healing; his ministry is fulfilled in his crucifixion: as an act of surpreme hospitality Jesus renders himself vulnerable to the point of death in order that we may be welcomed by and participate in communion with God. Thus, hospitality to the stranger constitutes part of the church's witness to the Christ-event and the hospitality that weak and sinful humans have received from God (p. 149).
Bretherton goes on to note how in an article on hospitality that "within the Christian tradition the stranger to be welcomed is consistently defined as someone who lacks any resources to support themselves. The stranger is someone who lacks a 'place' in society because they are detached or excluded from the basic means of supporting and sustaining life - family, work, polity, land, and so on - and are thus vulernable."*
Christine Pohl, who teaches at Asbury Theological Seminary, makes a similar point. She states how, "through most of church history, the Christian hospitality tradition has expressed a normative concern for strangers who could not provide for or defend themselves."** For example, in 1785, a group of Methodists founded the Stranger's Friends Society in London to aid the new class of urban poor. John Wesley described the Society as 'instituted wholly for the relief not of our society, but for the poor, sick, friendless strangers.'*** In other words, following the parable of the Good Samaritan, the answer given to the question: "who is my neighbor?" has been that the neighbor to be welcomed is the 'friendless stranger.' Hence, what constitutes the abuse of hospitality by hosts is defined in terms of whether their hospitality ignores the vulverable and friendless stranger.
I like what Bretherton and Pohl write about hospitality. They speak to a great concern regarding mission and ministry in a pluralistic culture: with new moral, social, and political questions emerging everyday, the church must find ways to live amongst strangers and yet also maintain its distinctive witness. The temptation of the church is two-fold: to accomodate and waterdown its witness on the one hand and/or to retreat from the public square and so disengage from the world on the other. The tension is always present. What Bretherton and Pohl offer, especially those who are searching for a missional framework within which to serve and lead Christ's church, is a way to follow Christ's example and so learn and relearn the practice of hospitality. What they offer is a kind learning and relearning that goes to the heart of practicing the gospel. They also offer a kind of learning that challenges us to open up our lives to welcoming strangers, for, as the Preacher in Hebrews says, in welcoming strangers, we welcome angels unawares (Hebrews 13:2).
Reflecting on the church's mission I can only commend what Bretherton and Pohl are stating as a first-step in sharing concretely in Christ's ministry.
*Luke Bretherton, "Hospitality and the Negotiation of Life with Strangers" (St. Ethelburga's Center for Reconciliation and Peace).
**Christine Pohl, "Making Room," p. 87.
***John Wesley, "Works of John Wesley," Volume 4: Journals (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1979), p. 481.
Bretherton goes on to note how in an article on hospitality that "within the Christian tradition the stranger to be welcomed is consistently defined as someone who lacks any resources to support themselves. The stranger is someone who lacks a 'place' in society because they are detached or excluded from the basic means of supporting and sustaining life - family, work, polity, land, and so on - and are thus vulernable."*
Christine Pohl, who teaches at Asbury Theological Seminary, makes a similar point. She states how, "through most of church history, the Christian hospitality tradition has expressed a normative concern for strangers who could not provide for or defend themselves."** For example, in 1785, a group of Methodists founded the Stranger's Friends Society in London to aid the new class of urban poor. John Wesley described the Society as 'instituted wholly for the relief not of our society, but for the poor, sick, friendless strangers.'*** In other words, following the parable of the Good Samaritan, the answer given to the question: "who is my neighbor?" has been that the neighbor to be welcomed is the 'friendless stranger.' Hence, what constitutes the abuse of hospitality by hosts is defined in terms of whether their hospitality ignores the vulverable and friendless stranger.
I like what Bretherton and Pohl write about hospitality. They speak to a great concern regarding mission and ministry in a pluralistic culture: with new moral, social, and political questions emerging everyday, the church must find ways to live amongst strangers and yet also maintain its distinctive witness. The temptation of the church is two-fold: to accomodate and waterdown its witness on the one hand and/or to retreat from the public square and so disengage from the world on the other. The tension is always present. What Bretherton and Pohl offer, especially those who are searching for a missional framework within which to serve and lead Christ's church, is a way to follow Christ's example and so learn and relearn the practice of hospitality. What they offer is a kind learning and relearning that goes to the heart of practicing the gospel. They also offer a kind of learning that challenges us to open up our lives to welcoming strangers, for, as the Preacher in Hebrews says, in welcoming strangers, we welcome angels unawares (Hebrews 13:2).
Reflecting on the church's mission I can only commend what Bretherton and Pohl are stating as a first-step in sharing concretely in Christ's ministry.
*Luke Bretherton, "Hospitality and the Negotiation of Life with Strangers" (St. Ethelburga's Center for Reconciliation and Peace).
**Christine Pohl, "Making Room," p. 87.
***John Wesley, "Works of John Wesley," Volume 4: Journals (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1979), p. 481.
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