Talking about the Fall in early Spring

A few weeks ago a friend inquired as to my thoughts about whether or not there was death in Eden before "The Fall."  This blog is my thoughts about that subject...some that I conveyed, and others that are added here in this Lenten blog. 

I suppose for the reader without fundamentalist Christian experience, I have to explain the whole question.  You see, we were taught that, before Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit in the garden, there was no death.  All the animals were herbivores (including the humans), nothing died, everything perpetually lived.  It wasn't until Adam sinned that death entered the world and people and plants and organisms began to die.  Now, if you don't have a fundamentalist background, you're thinking what I do now--what about the multiplication rates of micro-organisms that would have multiplied and covered the Earth, leaving no room for humans, within the week?  Well, I suppose we were thinking so theologically, that the science didn't really matter.  But I say the theology matters far more in the case of this story than science (something that we should point out as often as possible to anyone who wants to use Genesis as a science textbook for God's sake).  

It is a sacred story not a literal history. But even then, there is something significant about how the Bible tells the story of death entering the world.  And it informs, I think, how we need to approach the process of dying during this Lenten season, and while we live as Easter people in a Lenten world.In the context of this story, was there death in the garden?  Yes, I think so.  If not, were insects multiplying daily without ever dying?  What of grass and trees etc?  We could infer miraculous sort of existence--an okay hermeneutic as well, as long as you don't see the story as scientific history, of course.  But I don't think that's the way this ancient story went.  I believe that death existed before the fall.  There was a cycle of life and death as there is now.  The difference is that death was in its place before the fall...like winter that gives way to spring.  Only, it was the kind of death that gives way to new life.  It was perfect union with God. The way Christ experienced it in His death.

After the fall, death then reigned. Death meant separation. Perpetual winter, with no hope of new life. In Adam, all fell. But in Christ, the second Adam, all are raised. Death is put back in its place. Eden is restored internally (and, ultimately, externally) so that, yes...we still die, but that death is always the necessary step to life.  "Oh death, where is thy victory?"  So now, in Christ, we die to live instead of living to die. We die to self and are raised to new life, in what Fr. Richard Rohr calls "true self." (What Paul would call "Spirit" rather than "Flesh"). We die physically at the end of this life, only to have mortality put on immortality.  We die to self daily, only to find room for the Divine where once God was crowded out.

Death before the fall? Yes, but nothing like we really know or understand it today. Death the way death was supposed to exist...in its place as part of life.  Winter that gives way to Spring, seeds that are thrown to the ground, cracked and burst open only to grow life far greater than just a seed.  After all, if we die with Christ this Lent, will we not also live with him?  The ellipsis is everywhere in scripture, and like my story and yours, the story of Eden is not yet finished...

Fear Not!

They were the words of every angel to show up out of no where.  It's what Gabriel said to Zechariah, to Joseph, to Mary.  It's what the angels said to the shepherds.  It's what Jesus said to the trembling disciples.  "Fear not."  "Do not be afraid."  Sure.  That's easy enough, right?

This advent, our church has been journeying with Mary.  Seeing things from her perspective and gaining our own.  We've prayed a form of the rosary weekly.  I've found myself becoming a character in the nativity story as we pray, as we sing and worship on Sundays, in communion, in worship planning even.  But as I pick which character I am, I'm never Mary.  Not at first.  I've seen myself as Elizabeth, doubting Zechariah, a shepherd in a field, an innkeeper with a little compassion but no room.  And yet, the more I pray...the more that God prepares the way of the Lord and makes a road in my wildernesses...the more I just sit with the story...the more surprised I become again and again as I begin to see myself as the most unlikely character for me--as Mary.

The four Sundays of Advent are a progression in our worship this year.  Advent 1: God loves us (the Annunciation to Mary that she will bear a son).  Advent 2: God loves others (the Visitation to Elizabeth).  Advent 3: God loves in strange places (a journey to the most unlikely places where God already is...and ultimately to a stable in Bethlehem).  And Advent 4: For God so loves the world (the message of the angels to common shepherds of the birth of Messiah).

And I sketch all of that out for you for this one reason...I honestly don't think I can get past Advent 1.  If I can ever latch on to God loving me and seeing me the way God loves and sees Mary, the rest just makes sense.  Of course if God loves me, then God loves others and God loves in strange places and God loves the world...because I AM the other, I've been in strange and disappointing places, and within my complex personality and being is a microcosm of all of humanity (and not just within me either, but within all of us).  Yes, Jesus loves me, this I know...but do I really believe it?  Sure, I feel and know that I am loved.  But can I presume to see myself first as a Mary...first as a God-bearer...primarily as someone who is giving birth to hope, who has been the recipient of such unfathomable favor and grace?  Isn't it arrogance to think that?

Or is it pure humility to acknowledge it?  Is it not the singularly most important fact of my life that God has "chosen" me...loved me...favored me...poured out grace into my life without even an inkling of merit or qualification (and if me, then surely all the world)?  The more I pray, the more I sit with Mary, the more I just be and become...I find myself letting my guard down, and just when I least suspect it, I'm Mary.  The divine messenger shows up out of nowhere, and before I'm able to gather my pious wits about me, I'm hearing the pronouncement "Fear not!  Hail, Mary, full of grace..."   Then the questions come..."how can this be seeing as I am..."

Do I dare to be a Mary?  Do I dare to tell the world that it's happening to me?   What will they think of me?  Will they ever see past the shadow of me that is easier to see than it is to see my Self?  If I enter into this journey as Mary...as a mother of God...will anyone ever believe me?   These must have been questions in Mary's mind, too, I imagine.

I've got a long way to journey with the Blessed Mother.  Advent probably won't be long enough for this journey I have begun.  I still pray the rosary each week with others, and I still put myself in the story everywhere else except right next to the manger...I'm still trying to identify with everyone else in the story, because surely I'm not a Mary.

My vicar, Wendy, asked me one time "Why do you not trust sacrament?"  Why, indeed?  Why do I question and analyze these divine experiences in my life...why do I weigh them down with so much of myself...why am I hesitant to call them sacrament at all?  Why am I so afraid?

God must have known it would be this way when God shows up in the lives of ever-holy and ever-wholly-unsuspecting people.  That's why he sent an angel declaring "DO NOT BE AFRAID!"

May it be with me, according to Thy word.

Isaiah 1:13-17 and Why People Don't Go to Church

It seems fashionable these days to blog about why people don't go to church.  There are lots of reasons given as to why, depending on who you read. It's "contemporary worship" services that keep people away.  Or traditional ones.  It's conservative culture war rhetoric.  Or social gospel liberalism.  It's leadership.  Or laity.

I spoke not long ago with a United Methodist pastor who shared that his bishop says people not attending church is a "cultural problem."  The Bishop meant a problem with society, not the church.  I wonder.

The church in America is dying.  Or it is transitioning.  Or on the verge of a great awakening.  Or really hasn't changed much, it's just an illusion of the way people attend church.  Depending on who you read.

I think I agree with Fr. Richard Rohr that we are so trapped in dualistic thinking that we can't truly evaluate what's going on.  We think it is a "conservative/liberal" problem, rooted in theology.  We think it is a "contemporary/traditional" problem, rooted in form of worship.  We think it is a "churched/unchurched" problem rooted in culture.  We always think it's the Devil...and the Devil is external (the problem with that thinking, for me, is that an external Satan necessitates an external God which leads to all sorts of other false dichotomies that keep us from ever really seeing God, ourselves or others).

I've said for quite some time that there is no such thing as "secular" and "sacred."  It's all God's world. That means hymns and gangsta rap...including the parts that need to be redeemed.  And I'm mostly talking about the misogynistic, abusive language of that music that needs to be redeemed...and I mean the hymns, of course.  The gangsta rap isn't usually as offensive or influential as those terrible hymns we sing.

There are other false dichotomies that we use..."conservative vs. liberal" which often has both sides as rooted in ego and false self as they are rooted in some kind of "theology" (and I use the "" because it really isn't a study of God...it's still just about us...the false self).  "Traditional vs. contemporary" is a ridiculous distinction, I don't care how many books by people far more educated than me have been written about it...or how many churches have been divided asunder into "Contemporary service" and "Traditional service" while still worshiping in the same building.  It's a false distinction and any student of the history of church music should know that.  It's just easier for us to say that people aren't coming because they don't like our style of music and our liturgy (whether we say we have a liturgy or not)...yeah, that's it.  It's not that there's something fundamentally wrong with who we are as church.  We know this because we've been this way for centuries. "Clergy vs. laity" is a false dichotomy rooted in roles and labels and expectations that we define people by and rooted in the scarecrows that we set up in the field of the church...it's just an illusion that we've created to make us feel like we've got it together.  Well, we probably don't.  And the terms "clergy" and "lay leader" and "laity" and "church member" and "non member" are really just straw with clothes on.  It's ok to admit it now...the rest of the world already knows.

Why must we continue to ask all the wrong questions in our church institution?  Why must we treat the people we live and work and play with as a market for church?  We're just asking the wrong questions.  We're having the wrong meetings.

So why do I think people don't go to church?  I have no idea and I don't know how important it is.  Why do you still go?  What is so important about church for you?  Is it ok that those things aren't important to everyone else?  If not, why not?  And why aren't those things important to others?

Is the church in America dying?  Probably.  That's great news.  The church needs to die.  Put some buildings up for sale.  Cash out some endowments.  It will be ok.  Are we really worried about the church or just about this tent of our own making?  Why are we so worried about the death of the church, our local church, our denomination, our religious institutions...and why isn't the rest of America blogging about it?  When someone who doesn't go to church and doesn't want to start going writes a book about "Reasons why people don't want to go to church," I'll be the first to buy it.  Otherwise, I'm not very interested.  Because, honestly, I don't care if "the church" lives or dies.  I care if people live or die...and survival is not the same as living, either.  And if the church in America or anywhere else...or any other institutional body or organization on Earth...isn't bringing about life, then I'm ok with it dying and something else taking its place.  I've always heard that we have to wait for some people to die before the ship of state for the institutional church can alter its course...let's not tie it all to physical death, shall we?  Let's hope that some of us might die to our notion of church first, before we give up the ghost on this side of eternity.

Of course, I don't think the church ever really dies...but it's awfully funny watching all of us fret about the significance of new religious and social polls about church attendance as if we were D.C. politicians gearing up for the next election.  And the church acts that way...we want to change our talking points and the way we do meetings and how we brand ourselves and hope that no one will notice that we never fundamentally became a different creature...a new creation.

So the best message I can think of for a dying church (not that that's a bad thing) is the message of Isaiah in the first chapter.  I've taken some liberties with it.  Feel free to dismiss them as bullshit.  It's what most of America has done to the church and what we have to say anyway.

Isaiah 1:13-17...sort of.

Stop bringing all of your "revolutionary" yet meaningless "changes" to the table--all this ridiculous talk hurts my ears. As for your conferences about church transformation and worship style and your special emphases on restructuring and cultural relevance...they're as false as your motives for talking about them.  I hate your meetings.  You're always meeting about something...Your meetings are as annoying to me as they are to you, deep down, anyway.  You sure are busy, but I'm not impressed.  Because you bear the guilt of innocent victims.  You know, the ones you blame for not supporting your precious institutions anymore.  Sweep out your own house, get rid of what's wrong with you instead of trying to fix something "out there." 

Try this for a church transformation program:  Learn how to do good.  Seek justice.  Worry about people who are oppressed.  Defend people who get ignored.  Fight for the rights of those who don't have enough clout to fight themselves.

Have I really hit on the problem?  Maybe not.  I'm perfectly ok with being wrong about if and why and when the church is declining/dying/transitioning.  It just doesn't matter to me.  I do know this--If the institutional church were to heed a few of the ideas above, we'd realize that the church living or living again is as simple (not easy but simple)...as simple as taking in Breath.

The Power of Presence: How sitting at the table subverts abuse of power and changes the world

They don't want you there.  They see your very presence as an affront.  Who do you think you are anyway?  Why must you always have an AGENDA?

It's been my experience that in places where power is concentrated, especially political power in the religious world, the above statements are often implied, if not outright said or asked.  Especially the part about an agenda.  Power is concerned with agendas...specifically those that don't conform to THEIR agenda.

After a while, you'll learn your place.  You won't be asked to do anything significant...you're there to learn, surely.  You have a lot to learn from Power, they think, because if you knew what they knew you wouldn't believe what you believe or behave as you do.  So, keep coming to the church conferences and meetings and conventions and conclaves--but please be quiet; you're here to learn, not teach.  Oh, Power has heard what you have to say...you're so loud and obnoxious, Power thinks.  And it must be true, it often feels like you're shouting because you are the only voice in the room saying anything different from what everyone else is saying--"Why can't you get with the program?" Power will ask.  "Why don't you see things our way?  Shhhhhh!  We're trying to help you!"  So as the lone voice that no one ever listens to, you gradually raise your voice until someone notices...and cuts you off.  It's discouraging.  It's disheartening.  It makes you lose your faith in Christianity.  And maybe it should.  Because Christianity has failed.  The fact that the church of Jesus Christ even exists today is a testimony to the resurrected Lord, for only a living God could keep such a failed institution alive.  Even as I write this, I am aware that I might be misunderstood...as though I did not value education, or faithful service, or history, or traditions.  None of that is true.  But I do not hang my hat on any of those things.  I hang my hat on Christ.  I believe education is what frees and empowers the people of God, that faithful service is what sustains the church, that history is God's activity with humanity bringing us to today and helping us dream for tomorrow, and that traditions reflect the values that we have as God's community.

Yet, if church history and education and tradition teaches me anything, it is that it was most often the dissenters that were right.  Only later does Power get with the program and try to downplay the centuries of not listening to those obnoxious and annoying naysayers.  And the death rattle of mainstream Christian denominations and sects in America is a testimony to the failed ventures of Power and Influence and Empire.  Why would you even go back?  Why even be a part of the conversation anymore?  Why even show up?  Why go forward for communion if you know you'll be refused?  Why attend the conversations if you know they are only monologues and not dialogues?

You show up, because real transformation happens when you show up.  Don't get it wrong, either--not just transformation for Power (which desperately needs the transformation that only dying to self can bring), but transformation for you.  Showing up at the table that you were only invited to as a formality, with the silly notion that your non-establishment, non-member-of-this-club status really makes you equal to those sitting with you at the table, offers an opportunity for you to learn and grow.  (I should probably add that even though these are valuable lessons, it's also perfectly good and right and just to vociferously protest such treatment!)  Being treated like "the help" may make you a better servant...and when you leave that table to go to the table that really DOES include every voice and makes every person important, it will certainly make you a better leader.  It will help you see that person who is dead wrong as important...because it really wasn't about being right or wrong anyway.

You show up because it subverts the power of Empire that constantly threatens and overpowers the church of Christ.  The Power that sees its authority derived from lineage, pedigree, education, connections, or length of service.  And when you show up, claiming only Christ as your creed and claiming only the title "Child of God" and recognizing no greater distinction than this, you chip away (ever so slightly) at the walls of the church institution that keep out even Christ at times.

You show up because you being there opens up a seat for the person that wasn't invited.  You open up a spot for the one wasn't thought of.  You thought of them because you know what it feels like to be ignored, muted, put down, the object of condescending statements and glances.  And you will mention those children of God who should be at the table but who are left out because they are even further out on the margins than you.  If you don't show up, who will mention them?

You show up because inside of you is the Spirit of God burning like a flame.  John Wesley said it best; "Catch on fire...and people will come from miles to watch you burn."  Lest you become haughty, remember that the Spirit of God is present as well in the hearts of those sitting at the table with you.  Even those who ignore you.  The bush was always burning...Moses was just the first to see it.  You show up because when you see the Spirit of God in even the hardest of hearts, you are able to point Power to where Real Power is.  Not in buildings and cathedrals and constitutions...but in wind and in crowds of people all speaking different languages at once...and in a fire that burns within you.

You show up because the notion that the people in charge are really in charge of anything is as ridiculous to you as it is to the Spirit-Wind of God Who blows where She wants.  It's as ridiculous to you as it is to the rest of the world who shakes their head at institutional Christianity, wondering if anyone there will start talking about things that matter.  Those in Power don't have any Real Power so long as they continue to point to all of the man-made constructs of religion to validate who they are.  They have no Real Power so long as they continue to believe that ecclesiastic office means ministry and church titles mean leadership.

You show up because you realize that any authority or Real Power they might ever have, exists outside of all of those trappings.  Behind the robes.  Behind the stoles.  Behinds the desks with nameplates.  Behind the credentials.  Behind the titles.  In the heart. Of every person.  Where God is.

 You show up because someone has to keep saying THAT.

"We're ALL sinners." Yes, but you left the best part out.

Recently I have heard the oft-repeated rhetoric from Christian sisters and brothers--"we are all sinners." It is used in a sinister way, though the person saying it doesn't always realize it (sometimes they do). Here's how the rhetoric sounds: "I will welcome gay people into my church even though they are sinners, because, well, we are ALL sinners."  (Sorry about gay-ing everything up these days...it seems to be the talk of the town in Christian circles...or maybe everyone just wants to talk to me about it. Can't imagine why.)  It is usually accompanied by a convenient list: "Gluttony is a sin just like homosexuality...and murder...and adultery...and fornication." And is often followed by an explanation "I'm a sinner, but I ask forgiveness." Here's the translation--yes, we're all sinners, but I recognize that I'm a sinner for eating too many potato chips and you're an unrepentant sinner trying to force your agenda on me of making me accept your sin and you're entire life and relationships and who you are as a person and declare it ok...we'll welcome you, so long as you know it's because we welcome all despised sinners and we all hope they'll become the better class of Christians like us who ask forgiveness for our sins. Amen. And hallelujah for "grace."

The next time you are tempted to use that rhetoric, just replace the word "sinner" with "Saint."  Because we are all Saints too...and therein lies the problem of all the "equally awful" talk.  Even though you are in error, I believe, to think that the Bible has given a universal and timeless condemnation of gay people (and possibly other groups), you are right to say we are all sinners.  What you think makes me or my sister or brother a sinner is really irrelevant (to me...not to you, I know).  Because, really, the other truth that is coupled with that statement so readily asserted in times of disagreement about the very nature of "sin," is that we are all Saints.

This month, the epistle readings in the lectionary have been from Galatians.  Paul has a lot to say about the law and faith.  When you say "we're all sinners" and what you mean to do is to label and condemn someone in order to "help" them, you are setting yourself up as a lawkeeper.  Good luck with that.  "I suspect you would never intend this, but this is what happens. When you attempt to live by your own religious plans and projects, you are cut off from Christ, you fall out of grace. Meanwhile we expectantly wait for a satisfying relationship with the Spirit. For in Christ, neither our most conscientious religion nor disregard of religion amounts to anything. What matters is something far more interior: faith expressed in love." (Galatians 5:4-6, The Message).  I won't belabor the point, but Paul basically says that Jesus doesn't really care if we are "good Christians" or not...discuss amongst yourselves.

No one needs you or me to tell them that we are all sinners.  We all see the brokenness in this world and in our lives...the law preaches itself.  I see that brokenness when I hear the words we hurl at each other, doing each other "favors" by making sure that woman knows she'll never be able to lead in church because she's the wrong gender, and that homosexual will never be used in ministry until s/he stops having sex and lies about who s/he is (for most people it's mostly about the sex part...the church historically is obsessed with sex which accounts for many dark stories in church history and contemporary church history).  We take God's name in vain when we say these things, and we ignore the real need of humanity.  We all know there's brokenness...we all know we hurt each other (though some of us fail to recognize it in many instances)...we know we're all sinners.  What keeps us from being made whole as individuals and what keeps us from being one as a body of Christ, is that we refuse to believe that we are all Saints.  We refuse to believe grace is that audacious, that transforming, that freeing.  We refuse to believe that the Spirit alone is enough and we fear stepping aside as gate keepers of the Divine.  We accuse other sects of refusing to be people of grace and point to our "gracious" reception of these "sinners" in whatever capacity we think we are welcoming "all ye sinners"--but we are just like those "more unloving" groups. Why?  Because, when we are so quick to group ourselves in with all the sinners and then just as quick to draw another circle just narrow enough to include us and exclude the others, we preach the real truth of what we are saying "Yes, we are all sinners, but we are NOT all Saints.  I am a Saint...and you are not."  We then usually blame God or the Bible for that..."sorry, I think it's crazy too...don't hate me--hate God.  He's the one that said it" (and God is almost invariably male in these discussions...just saying).

"Now, in these last sentences, I want to emphasize in the bold scrawls of my personal handwriting the immense importance of what I have written to you. These people who are attempting to force the ways of circumcision on you have only one motive: They want an easy way to look good before others, lacking the courage to live by a faith that shares Christ’s suffering and death. All their talk about the law is gas. They themselves don’t keep the law! And they are highly selective in the laws they do observe. They only want you to be circumcised so they can boast of their success in recruiting you to their side. That is contemptible! For my part, I am going to boast about nothing but the Cross of our Master, Jesus Christ. Because of that Cross, I have been crucified in relation to the world, set free from the stifling atmosphere of pleasing others and fitting into the little patterns that they dictate. Can’t you see the central issue in all this? It is not what you and I do—submit to circumcision, reject circumcision. It is what God is doing, and he is creating something totally new, a free life! All who walk by this standard are the true Israel of God—his chosen people. Peace and mercy on them!" (Gal. 6:11-16, The Message)

When we come to the Lord's table, we really are what we eat.  The invitation goes out into all the world in the words of Hart's great Calvinist hymn of grace..."Come ye, sinners, poor and needy."  Those who have found Christ at God's banquet table, in lowly gifts of bread and wine, echo back the refrain in the words of the hymn of the Mormon pioneers "Come, come, ye saints."  Yes, we are all sinners...but, you left the best part out. We are all saints. Or, as Paul puts it to the uncircumcised Galatian sinners, "But now you have arrived at your destination: By faith in Christ you are in direct relationship with God. Your baptism in Christ was not just washing you up for a fresh start. It also involved dressing you in an adult faith wardrobe—Christ’s life, the fulfillment of God’s original promise." (Gal. 3:25-27, The Message, emphasis mine)

When Holy Conversation Isn't Holy

Monday night, the Northeast Area of the Christian Church, Disciples of Christ in the Southwest held a forum concerning the new resolution to be presented at the General Assembly of the Christian Church, Disciples of Christ.  It was the first time any discussion concerning welcoming gay and lesbian Christians into our churches had been held at the Area level, as far as I know.  We were asked by our Area Minister to host the event at our church--the only Open and Affirming church in the NEA and one of the only officially O&A Christian churches in East Texas.  We invited our church members to attend, in hopes that our story would help others who are struggling with what we've already dealt with, over a year ago.  Many of our church members, some in the LGBT community (including myself) and some of our youth, attended.

We gathered together and were told that we would have holy conversation.

That is not what happened in most cases.  Instead, what I witnessed was the kind of spiritual violence I thought I had left behind when I left the dogmatic conservative, fundamentalist, Baptists.  We were told that we are Disciples and that we could disagree without being disagreeable.  This isn't true for some Disciples and that was evident.  There was a lot of talking.  There was little conversation.  And very little holiness.  I was hurt, disappointed, and angry.

As a result, I have reflected on our meeting and have come up with a list of sorts. Our event failed because of a lack of leadership, planning, and accountability.  The spiritual violence CAN be avoided--even with a hot-button topic.  (And I would point out that the topic is really only this hot and controversial in the church...the rest of the nation looks at us with the same dismissive attitude as it does all the other archaic institutions that have ceased being relevant...take note, those who bemoan the decline in church attendance.) If we choose not to avoid that violence, we can have unholy conversations...

How to have UNholy conversations

(What we did wrong on Monday night)

1.  Do not ask the only O&A church who has experience with these discussions for input or involve them in planning.  The event itself was planned about 2 weeks ahead of the meeting.  Our church was asked immediately to host the event and we agreed, even though we thought this was an awfully late time to be planning the first discussion when the GA was only 4 weeks away.  What the motivation for the timing was, if there was any, we were not told.  We discussed a good time for the event when our church building would be available and set the date for July 1st in the evening.  That was the end of our participation in the days leading up to the event.  Afterwards, when I was expressing my disgust with aspects of the event with its leaders, one said "do you think that you guys could help us figure out how to do this better?"  "Yes," I replied, "We were not asked."  Asking for input from the only people who have actually been through this process would have been a wise move.  But we were not asked.  And we became victims.

2.  Do not have an agenda for the meeting and have no defined goals other than "having a conversation."  If there was an informal schedule, we were not told what it was.  We were handed a packet of information that included "Holy Manners for Conversation" (rules for discussion), a page explaining how a resolution comes to the GA, a copy of the resolution, and Frequently Asked Questions.  The FAQ included questions that were particularly offensive to me.  One that it asked was "Will we have to call openly gay and lesbian clergy to our church?"  Yes, if this non-binding sense-of-the-assembly resolution passes, every autonomous congregation of the DOC will be required to have a gay or lesbian minister...or at least have their straight male minister cross-dress once a month.  Really?  This is the best we can do?  THESE are the pressing questions we want to put before our people in the first conversation?  That communicated a lot to me about how the meeting would go.  This was about politics.  This was about easing the tension for the already vociferously loud voices that didn't want gay people affirmed in their church...and didn't want that kind of affirmation, already absent from their congregation, to be associated with them in ANY way.  And our leadership encouraged it...just by the pamphlet they passed out. It was shameful.  We weren't told what the goal was.  We were told "we hope this will be the first of many conversations."  To what end?  I believe the real goal was to appease disaffected people..."don't worry--you can continue to marginalize people if your church wants to...this conversation is just about a resolution and why it doesn't matter to you...but here's your chance to weigh in for or against it."  I hope I am wrong.

3.  Do not provide beforehand the agenda or the questions to be discussed.  There were refreshments, there were nametags, there were people talking.  But what I saw lacking was real hospitality.  Hospitality is intentional, and isn't the same things as "friendliness" (although that was lacking in some corners too).  Oh, we had rules.  Some of them didn't make sense to me (confidentiality?  I'm breaking that one in this blog in obedience to my baptismal vows to call out injustice and work against it.  What exactly were we going to say that couldn't be repeated?  And why?).  We spent 45 minutes talking about resolution procedures and the rules of how to have holy conversation.  But we never talked about what that holy conversation was supposed to do.  We never talked about how this really could make a difference in our area or in our churches (we talked about what it, don't worry folks, would NOT do if it passed).  We were afraid to talk about it.  Because there are people who don't want anything different.  They are afraid and so, I suppose, we're too afraid as well.  None of the discussion questions were emailed out.  The "manners for holy conversation" were emailed...only that morning...but there was no indication of what questions we would be asked to speak to.  As a result, our church came with personal testimony...with stories of how being in a church that was open and affirming to all God's children had changed our lives...all our lives; straight, GLBT, and everything in-between.  And others came with their own agendas. No one had been told what we would be asked, so others came with only their opinions about the resolution, inasfar as they understood it, and all their fears about affirming gay people, which would remain unquestioned (except for the fears about how this resolution might affect their church's current marginalizing policy).  And when you come with a strong opinion about just an issue, and no one tells you that what we will be discussing is PEOPLE and what it means to be church, then you can't very well be expected to switch gears in the 5 seconds you get to read what our "discussion questions" are for the first time.  Which leads me to the next point...

4. Write vague questions that do not communicate the goal of the discussion, and do not ask for clearly defined dialogue about the various facets of the matter considered.  The questions we had to guide our small group discussions were questions like "What do you like most about being in the Christian Church, DOC?"  "How do you hope we will approach controversial issues?"  And then, "How do you see the passage of this resolution affecting your church and the denomination?"  The problem with these questions is that they are vague...not just open-ended, but without a clear direction for the conversation.  It doesn't ask anything about the meat of the resolution.  How can we discuss a resolution without discussing the people involved and affected?  No, what I see communicated here is a concern for the politics of the church, not the people of the church.  I see a dodging of the real issues, for fear that it might be too controversial.  The problem with that approach is that the issue is already controversial.  My area minister even told me that she already knew there were angry people in the NEA that were concerned about this resolution...why were the questions not written to promote dialogue between these angry people and the marginalized people who are ACTUALLY affected by the resolution?  It is like going to a discussion about marriage equality and the questions on the table are "how will this affect marriages?  What do you like most about YOUR marriage?"  It actually opens the discussion up for the loudest, most powerful, most privileged voices...and disregards the already disadvantaged position of the marginalized members of our church and area.  And, don't be mistaken, there are always marginalized people in every gathering.  

5.  Put broken people in leadership as facilitators.  None of our ministers or leadership were involved as facilitators, so I do not know, personally, any of the men or women who facilitated (I am not suggesting all are broken people...I am only sharing my experience).  We were divided into 5 groups of about 10-12 people and all handed the questions to be considered.  The man who facilitated my group sits on the committee on ministry for our area.  My minister is well acquainted with him and his angry voice.  She hears his angry, certain voice every year at her boards.  I heard his voice as he weighed in on the matter, beginning with a condescending reference to scripture--"I feel the way I do, because I believe this book [he brandishes his Bible with its camo cover reading "God's army" and I wonder how literally he takes that word "army"] and this issue really comes down to whether or not you believe the Bible."  Yes, because no one who disagrees with you has even studied the scriptures.  Yes, you are guardian of all Biblical truth.  And you've said so before you ever led this group.  I know, because my area minister told me that she was acquainted with your very dogmatic opinions...which makes me wonder why we would ever appoint someone to facilitate a discussion we already know he has shut down before the event begins.  At one point, he said "And I'm sorry for what this Bible says."  I broke the rules and interrupted..."I'm not.  I LOVE the scriptures and I believe every word of them."  I'm not sorry for what the Bible says, because I've read it, I've studied it, I've done more than see what it reads and I see what it says...and I just don't believe it says ANYTHING that he was saying.

Will, a member of my church, a freshman in college, came near when I was discussing how the event had gone with the leadership...I stepped aside to talk to him and he asked "are you talking about our group?"  Not exactly, why?  "Because we obviously didn't follow the rules."  Yeah...come tell that to our area minister and the moderator.  So he did...and what he said was telling.  He said "yeah, I don't think we followed that rule about name-calling very well...and it was mainly the one who was leading our group." 

6.  Allow facilitators to weigh in on the matter  The whole reason to have someone facilitating discussion is so that there is a neutral voice that can make sure that all members of the group are heard.  That doesn't mean this person doesn't have an opinion...it means that they set their opinion aside for the purposes of helping others express theirs in a group.  This is whole damn meaning of "facilitate!"  And it cannot be accomplished when the leader of the group weighs in...before OR after everyone else--because when the facilitator is last, s/he gets the last last word and it communicates to everyone else about future conversations..."Beware; the person leading your group is biased so don't expect to be heard."

7.  Do not have a moderator who will step in when s/he hears hurtful language being used (i.e. when s/he witnesses spiritual violence).  Our moderator, someone I consider a friend, was humble and compassionate during our discussion of the spiritual violence afterwards.  He lamented and regretted what had transpired in some groups.  But something he said struck me deeply.  I said that there was a lot of name-calling in our group...and probably the people doing it did not recognize it as such.  When you say to a gay person that you consider who they are to be a sin, a sin like any others--slander, murder, fornication, adultery...those were the words chosen in our group...you are calling people names.  You MIGHT believe all these things, ok.  But in order to have real, holy conversation, you must express it differently.   And our moderator heard it...he said "yes, [with a dissapointed look], I heard some of those things being said."  Yes, I know you did.  I saw you sitting there as she said it.  And, here's the thing...rules don't make broken people whole and whole people are usually able to follow rules--no matter how ridiculous.  So our people, even while they were the victims of spiritual violence, did not interrupt.  They did not react to the words being used in an assault, however unintended it may have been, against them.  We did not label those who disagreed with us as bigots, or as hateful, as unchristian, or as people who didn't believe the Bible.  But I watched as a leader for this discussion sat there and listened to labels being placed on my sisters and brothers...and said nothing.  I am angry that I did not.  But when you are in a position that is already marginalized, and when you are already without power by the very nature of the meeting itself, it is difficult to realize that YOU must be the voice to speak up.  You look around to the facilitator, the moderator, the area minister, to anyone with any semblance of power to make the violence stop.  

Never again will allow violence to happen in my church or any church and follow the rules.  I will interrupt.  I will challenge the speaker.  I will voice disagreement.  I will say they are wrong.  I will stop the entire conversation if I have to...because there is NOTHING holy about it.  Yes, we had rules about what to do and what not to do.  But "people will be who they are," as my vicar, Wendy, so often says, and you cannot expect some written rule to make sense to a broken person.  Wendy also always says "broken people break people."  And they will say they kept the letter of the rule.  After all, we're all "sinners" right?  Yes, but the implication of the labels we use is that we certainly aren't all saints.  Labels matters...especially when we apply them to others without their permission.  Christian Piatt taught us this in a diversity seminar for our area not long ago...it didn't seem to inform us Monday night. 

 I did engage in one, late, quiet, but very visible, action after our facilitator had weighed in with his poisonous words, blaming God and scripture for everything he believed about the people sitting in my group who were GLBT.  I went to every member of my church who was in my group (there were 5 besides me), straight and gay alike, and I took their face in my hands and I said "Who you are is NOT a sin."  And I went to the next person and the next...and then I sat down.  It was all I knew to do.

In holy conversation, you aren't allowed allowed to demean the relationship that another group member became vulnerable enough to share with you...you aren't allowed to say "You know, I have a very close girl friend and we do just about everything together...but we don't LIE together because the Bible says that's wrong.  I think gay people would get a whole lot further if they would stop wanting what they have to be called 'marriage' because it isn't."  You don't get to say that the person disagreeing with you just doesn't believe the Bible.  And you don't get to call the other people in your group sinners...yes, we are all sinners,  but when you say it in this context, you mean that some of us are "better" sinners than others.  In fact, this was voiced..."When I sin, I ask forgiveness."  Meaning, if you don't believe that who you are is a sin, then you aren't the same quality of Christian as me.

8.  Ignore people who are hurt.  After the forum was over, as people milled about and as clergy greeted each other in the foyer, I noticed a group of my church members huddled around seated people.  If I hadn't already witnessed the violence, I would've thought someone was having a medical emergency.  But I knew.  And as I got closer I saw tears on the faces of our people...some who were hurt personally, and some who were hurting with their brother or sister.  I saw my minister, seated, crying beside a member of our church who had been in my group...I saw others standing, some looking helpless, just wanting to bring the shalom back to our church and back to our people.

This Sunday, our minister tells me she plans to publicly apologize for allowing the shalom of our church to be broken and she plans to pledge that it will never happen again.  It wasn't her fault.  She wasn't given an opportunity to keep shalom.  Instead, we were at the mercy of those who planned without us in the loop, and obviously without us in mind.  The group was huddled at the seats nearest the entrance of what supposed to be sanctuary.  Only other members of my church where there weeping with those who wept.  Did no other leaders for this event see those hurting people?  Was there no one who would stop and help the wounded?  Priests and Levites milled about and took care of official looking duties...the Samaritans were the only ones who stopped to help the one who had been robbed, not of possessions or physical health, but of dignity.

There are a lot of things that could have been done differently.  

This event could have ended positively--EVEN if those attending left in sharp disagreement about the subject matter.  I know...we had these discussions and conversations at our church.  I know...we were not all in agreement.  And some, after we became O&A, decided that our church would no longer be their church...but they left with peace, and with the knowledge that they were loved and that they had been heard.  Being church is hard work...and it is intentional work.

Before our meeting, a few of us gathered in the prayer room to pray.  We practiced lectio divina and...not wanting to make our prayer "point" in the direction we wanted it to, we used the text that would be preached on Sunday morning by a visiting minister.  2 Kings 5:1-14.  The story of Namaan, the leper.  In that story, there were a lot of important people.  Namaan, who was very important to the King of Aram; the King of Israel; Elisha the prophet.  But during our prayer it was the servants we noticed--the unnamed characters.  The young Jewish girl who was captured in war with Israel who suggested to her mistress that Namaan should see the prophet of Samaria.  The servant of Elisha who was sent to bear the instructions to Namaan of how he might wash and be cleaned.  The servants of Namaan who, after their master left, angry that Elisha himself had not come out to see him and angry that the instructions were so ridiculous, convinced their master to heed the words of Elisha through his servant and go wash and be cleaned.

There is healing for a broken and divided church...and it doesn't always come through consensus...but it will always come through the voice of servants, sensitive to the leading of the Spirit and willing to do the hard work of bringing healing...even in a politically charged situation.  I believe we as Christians can do that work and that our prayer "Thy Kingdom come" can be answered in and among us.  

Let the church die.

From a "letter" I wrote as a Facebook status:

Dear Southern Baptist leadership,

Your conviction to ban gay rites does not constitute an argument to deny gay rights. Your conviction against equality, dignity, and worth for gay people is no different than the conviction that birthed your convention: it was in 1845 in Augusta, Georgia that the SBC was formed to defend the practice of slavery as ordained of God. It took over a century then, and it may take over a century now for the SBC to repent and lament its bigotry and it's use of God's name in vain. This Holy Week is an opportunity for the people of God in the SBC and other denominational structures to allow the agendas of power and self righteousness and greed to die so that the church can become a place for life instead of whitewashed tombs.

I would Cc a copy of this to the local denominational leadership of my own church's denominations (Christian Church, Disciples of Christ-Southwest region, Northeast Area, Texas-and the United Church of Christ, South Central Conference) that often communicate a love for the "most important seats in the synagogues and respectful greetings in the marketplace" than for advocating for the people for whom the gospel was intended (specifically: everyone). They say that the church in America is dying. Let it die--this week reminds me that sometimes that's what happens on the way to resurrection.