eCrozier #91

On May 27, 2011, in discipleship, gospel, by bishopbenhase

Recent research reported in the Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin analyzed personal choice in the distance between people when they sat together (the link is here: http://psp.sagepub.com/content/early/2011/04/05/0146167211402094.abstract

The researchers discovered people tend to sit closer to others who look like them or have similar traits. For example, people who wear glasses often choose to sit closer to others who are wearing glasses. Likewise, people with longer hair tend to sit closer to other people with similar length in hair. The researchers postulated that people who were in the research group assumed that others with similar physical traits would also share their attitudes and so they could more comfortably sit closer to them. Drawing this conclusion out, we might say we assume that we’re more likely to be accepted by people like us.

A lot of church growth strategy picks up on this. Such strategies direct us to discover who is already in our churches and then target growth by reaching out to folks who look like us, share our traits, and have similar attitudes. The thinking here goes something like this: when people visit our churches they want to see people who look like them so they will be more comfortable and will be more likely to stay as members (and maybe sit close to us, but not too close to us, in the pew). This has been the central strategy of the mega-church movement, particularly in the small groups they form to build up the church. That is why it is not uncommon to find such groups comprised, for example, of divorced fathers in their late thirties each with two children.

In some ways, this is just common sense. It stands to reason that people would be more comfortable around people that looked like them, shared a similar dress code and appearance, and had similar attitudes and convictions about the world. In such places, we get confirmation for how we are, who we have made ourselves into, and what we have chosen to display to others. We get affirmed by who we are and the outward stance we have adopted to the rest of the world.

If this research accurately describes our human condition, then the Gospel of Jesus is even more counter-cultural than we might have previously thought. For the Gospel is the radical message that all people, no matter what they’ve become or how they’ve chosen to be in the world, have been loved and forgiven by God through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ on the cross. The cultural overlay of appearance does not matter to God, “for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus (Galatians 3:26-28).

So then to bring it home to our own day, whether we are “clothed” in glasses or long hair, whether we are “clothed” with black skin or white skin, whether we are “clothed” in a Brooks Brothers suit or something off the rack at Wal-Mart, none of that matters to God. And, here is where it hits home to our own stuff, it better not matter to us.

+Scott

 
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eCrozier #85

On April 15, 2011, in Body of Christ, discipleship, politics, by bishopbenhase

In a recent study, researchers postulated that since we humans have lived as foragers for 95% of our species’ history, it would be significant to study modern day foraging societies to see how human culture progressed and succeeded. They analyzed living patterns among 32 of these foraging societies. They noticed two consistent patterns among them. First, there was mobility among both men and women that allowed them to remain with their group of origin or move to another unrelated group. Second, most individuals sharing the same residential group were genetically unrelated. The researchers suggest this is why humans have had such biological success compared to other species. As we’ve evolved we’ve learned to include others outside our genetic family and this has led predominantly to cooperative, large social networks.

Our historical success as a species appears to be related to our ability to share with and include others outside our genetic specific group. In other words, we’ve historically thrived when we have included and shared. Other species that did not learn to include outsiders and share did not thrive. This is a good reminder for the American version of our species as we struggle to decide how to spend our common tax purse as the real problem of our national debt grows. Governments collect taxes to provide for the common good at the various levels of our large social networks (local, state, and federal). When faced with such a challenge we humans can reach inward and just try to protect what is ours or at least our perceived share of the pie available. But as the above study suggests, this might not be in our best interests. If our historical pattern holds true, it seems we would do best if we reached out and shared the pie equitably, or if the pie needs to be smaller to reduce our debt, make sure that the smaller portion of the pie is shared equitably in order to enhance cooperation and inclusion.

The study suggests something that we Christians have always known from the Biblical witness. In his image of the Body of Christ in 1 Corinthians 12, St Paul contends that the “lesser” parts of the body should be shown greater honor in order for the whole body to function rightly and for bodily growth to thrive. When the body works together rather than as separate parts and when the body gives appropriate attention to the “lesser” members of the body rather than ignore them, then the body is in right order.

What questions would such a perspective raise? Well, for example, should we cut $8.5 billion for low-income housing, or $8.5 billion in mortgage tax deductions for vacation homes? Should we cut $11.2 billion in early childhood programs for poor kids, or $11.5 billion in tax cuts for millionaires’ estates? Should we cut $2.5 billion in home heating assistance in winter months, or $2.5 billion in tax breaks for oil companies while they earn record profits? And when General Electric pays no taxes and actually gets a tax rebate, something is out of order.

The challenges we face have moral, physical, and spiritual consequences. The thriving of our species may depend on how we meet these challenges.

+Scott

 
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eCrozier #81

On March 18, 2011, in discipleship, forgiveness, by bishopbenhase

David Brooks, a columnist for the New York Times, recently wrote:

James McNulty had a paper in the Journal of Family Psychology last year suggesting that forgiveness has a down side. It may increase the chances that those who are forgiven will offend again. McNulty studied family diaries and found that newlywed partners were more likely to report misbehavior on days after they were forgiven for something else. It should be added that forgiveness is still a good thing to do. The downside probably doesn’t outweigh the positive effects.

I have enormous respect for David Brooks. I just finished reading his most recent book, The Social Animal, and it was compelling. But I find what he wrote above somewhat humorous and at the same time an indication that Brooks apparently has a pretty paltry understanding of forgiveness, at least as we have it incarnated for us in Jesus. The humorous aspect of this is simply the human condition. If we don’t find human behavior in all its complexities somewhat humorous, then we are not paying attention to ourselves or to the people around us. Of course, an immature reaction to being forgiven may give a person apparent license to misbehave again. Human beings do such silly, immature things (I know, like you, I am one of us).

But I would argue that the person who does so repeatedly does not fully comprehend love or the depths of what forgiveness means when another person forgives us. That is the paltry side of this.  Forgiveness, as it is lived in Christian discipleship, becomes unintelligible if we first weigh its “downside” or “upside” before forgiving. If we stop to calculate its “positive” or “negative” effects, then we miss the whole point of why Jesus makes it plain that forgiveness is at the heart of the Gospel (And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us). We do not forgive because it “works” or because it has a greater “upside” than “downside.” We practice it, quite simply, because it is the way God has given us to share in the very life of God.

And another thing: whether or not the other person is remorseful is equally beside the point. That can be a hope we hold, but it is not a necessary condition for forgiveness. Practicing forgiveness is about us, not the transgressor, and it is about our relationship with God. And it is not an optional notion to discipleship. Yes, other people can hurt us deeply. And yes, that hurt can be so painful it lasts for years. And yet, Jesus takes all the subjectivity out of it when he very clearly commands us to forgive one another.

I’m not making light of the pain we suffer as a result of another person’s sin against us. Sometimes it seems bone-shattering. And I’m certainly not suggesting that forgiveness is easy or quickly accomplished. Often it is a process that takes a very long time. Still, it is central to our identity as disciples of Jesus and to our practice of the Christian faith. As St Paul wrote to the Romans: While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. God did not take a Gallup poll ahead of time to see if we would be remorseful or thankful if Jesus died for us. God just did it. It’s God’s nature. It’s who God is in Jesus Christ without qualification or condition. And it is who we are commanded to be in Jesus as well.

+Scott

 
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eCrozier #80

On March 11, 2011, in discipleship, Lent, by bishopbenhase

Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them;
for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.
Matthew 6:1

The poet Langston Hughes, in his poem “Litany,” urges his readers to “Gather up/In the arms of your love/Those who expect/no love from above.” Hughes lists in his litany the kinds of people who hope for nothing, summing up with the words: “All the scum of our weary city.” His poem suggests some personal questions. What do we really expect from God? What do we expect out of life in general? Does God owe us anything? What is life’s reward for us?

Beginning with our own expectations offers us a window to see the mission and vision of Jesus. He addressed those who were looking for and expecting a savior. These people had waited 500 years for a savior and in that time developed religious practices such as: prayer, fasting, and giving alms. These were the ways that they made manifest God’s presence in their lives. It was done rigorously, so that others, especially their children, might learn by their example and understand how God was present in their lives.

But when Jesus speaks, he says: Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them. He might just as well have said: Be on guard against performing and posing. You must realize that expressing God’s presence in your life and in the world about you is a holy discipline. So, when you perform piety and pose with trumpets sounding, you should know that you have already received your reward. Fasting and praying and giving alms are best done in secret, where such faith receives heavenly applause.

What do we expect? Remember Jesus came to redeem sinners, to bind up the broken-hearted, and to set the captives free. When Jesus came, he made God’s love specific and concrete and real flesh. He came to gather up into his arms of mercy all those who were sick, desperate, and tired. In Langston Hughes’s words: “All the scum of the city.” He came to gather up in his arms of mercy all those who expect “no love from above.” What do we expect? Are we some of the lost of “the city” that Jesus has come to collect? Or do we see ourselves as better than that? What do we expect of God and our lives as we begin our Lenten discipline?

We have also felt ourselves to be a chosen people just like the people Jesus addressed in the Gospel. Yet, in Lent we’re called back, warned, and reminded that our faith doesn’t depend on our outward performance of piety. We’re called back and warned that our identity as “chosen” depends on our faith in God’s grace and mercy and not on our outward performance. We’re called back, warned, and reminded in Lent that Jesus is the one who gathers up those who expect “no love from above.”

During our forty-day journey we will in fact discover that we have been chosen. But not chosen so we can feel smug and self-satisfied. Chosen rather for a particular purpose: So we can be sent out to bring into God’s Kingdom all those who right now have come to expect “no love from above.” What else could we expect from a God who dies for the sins of the whole world?

+Scott

 
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eCrozier #76

On February 4, 2011, in discipleship, leadership, by bishopbenhase

Holiness is the brightness of divine love, and love is never idle;
it must accomplish great things. Love must act as light must shine and fire must burn.
– James O. S. Huntington, OHC

Jesus tells us we disciples are salt and light to the world. Those are powerful metaphors. Salt brings out flavor and zest in food, but we do not eat salt by itself. It’s used to enhance the food we eat. Likewise, it would be hard for us to imagine pure, unfiltered light. No one in their right mind simply stares into a bright light. Light, however, like salt, enhances and reveals other things. Light reveals beauty and color, but also reveals those things we may not care to see, such as poverty and decay.

Both salt and light exist for other realities. They direct us to other things, just as our discipleship in Jesus does. Discipleship directs us to others so the good news of Jesus can lighten their burdens and reveal God’s goodness in a weary world. As disciples, it’s our task to make God’s grace and mercy visible in a world where violence and hatred are the norms. As salt and light, it’s our ministry to enhance and reveal the grace of God to the ungrateful and the mercy of God to the broken-hearted.

Such discipleship is exhausting. It may at times seem we are like Don Quixote tilting at windmills. When we are out there in the world as disciples being salt and light, we must be grounded in something deeper and more eternal than simply the desire to be of greater service to humanity. The exhaustion of discipleship is real and experienced by all of us. We keep the proper order in our lives as disciples. That’s why the Church has always insisted that our service to the world proceeds out of our worship of God. It is not that in our service to the world we come to the awareness that we need to worship God. It is actually the other way around. Through our worship of God we are constrained to do no other than humbly serve all those created in the image of that God.

Evelyn Underhill wrote: “One’s first duty is adoration, and one’s second duty is awe and only one’s third duty is service… We observe then that two of the three things for which our souls were made are matters of attitude, of relation: adoration and awe. Unless these two are right, the last of the triad, service, won’t be right. Unless your life is a movement of praise and adoration, unless it is instinct with awe, the work which the life produces won’t be much good.”

We are lasting salt and consistent light to the world only as we avoid becoming disordered. Underhill is correct: adoration and awe must precede service. But the above quote from Fr. Huntington is also true. Such adoration and awe, such holiness, cannot remain idle; “it must accomplish great things.”

Church leaders have the principal responsibility to shape their parish culture where this proper order is taught, kept, and nurtured.

+Scott

 
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eCrozier #75

On January 28, 2011, in discipleship, leadership, by bishopbenhase

A few years ago researchers at Stanford investigated how college students multitasked. They assumed they did it much more effectively than older adults. The researchers expected to find highly toned cognitive abilities that allowed effective multitasking. What they actually found was that the more people multitasked, the worse at it they were. They were worse at identifying relevant information, more distractible, and more disorganized. They even became worse at what multitasking is supposed to help with: switching tasks seamlessly. Multitasking, they concluded, impairs one’s ability to think reflectively. Such reflection is about thinking long enough on a topic to weigh a number of ideas. That can’t be done in 30-second bytes while also updating a Facebook page, changing the playlist on an iPod, or watching the latest cute cat video on YouTube.

I think leadership in our churches suffers, if not from multitasking itself, certainly from the spirit of multitasking. Like Martha in Luke 10:41-42a (“Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part.”), we become so distracted by the busyness of leadership that we do not make the time to think reflectively and prayerfully on our life and actions. It is not that we do not have the time. Of course we do. It is that we often lack the courage to live into such a direct, prayerful, and reflective relationship with God.

In her new book (In Your Holy Spirit: Traditional Spiritual Practices in Today’s Christian Life, Ascension Press, 2011), Michelle Heyne addresses the five traditional spiritual practices (Weekly Eucharist, Daily Prayer, Reflection, Community and Service). Her chapter on Reflection is the one I found most valuable because it is the one practice we often neglect in our multitasked, blackberried, and instant-messaged culture. Michelle challenges us to have the courage to live, act, and pray differently.

As leaders of the church, we need to step back, gain perspective, listen to others, and spend time in solitude so we can think reflectively and prayerfully. Such reflective time is a necessary precursor to right actions. We must be able to think and see clearly before we can lead and act faithfully. In Mark 8:23-25, we read: Jesus laid hands on the blind man and asked: “Can you see anything?” And the man looked up and said, “I can see people, but they look like trees walking.” Then Jesus laid his hands on his eyes again; and he looked intently and his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.

When we do not make the time for solitude so we can think reflectively and prayerfully, we often end up seeing “trees walking” and not the people, things, and circumstances of our lives that truly matter. Like with the blind man in the Gospel, we need more time for Jesus to work on us, for the needed time to listen to the Holy Spirit in our daily prayers and in the prayers of our community.  So, make the time for prayer and disciplined reflection on your life and leadership. It is not a luxury for when time allows. It is a necessity for which we must make time.

+Scott

p.s. order Michelle’s book at http://episcopalbookstore.com

 
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eCrozier #65

On November 12, 2010, in discipleship, leadership, by bishopbenhase

I have the impression that God knows the importance of humility for man. He knows our weakness, our pride, and He purposely sets in our path each day four or five humiliations, and in the course of our life, four or five great humiliations. If we do not comprehend them, if we do not accept them, it is a serious matter. But if we accept them, then we learn the generosity of God.        Dom Helder Camara

Ministry is humbling, parish ministry even more so. Done right, as St. Paul implies, we will exercise such ministry as “fools for Christ’s sake.” In an increasingly post-Christian context, what we do in the name of Christ as ministers of his Gospel will look more and more like foolishness to others. St Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians of just that. Given the current wisdom of the world, what could be more foolish than proclaiming: “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.”

And such foolishness leads us, by intention or not, to the occasional humiliation, at least by human standards. We, of course, should not seek out such humiliation. We should not be gluttons for punishment. As Archbishop Tutu is fond of saying: “the meek are called to inherit the earth, not eat the dirt!” Nor, when we do experience humiliation in the course of our ministries, should we wear it as a badge of honor in a sense showing others what a dedicated martyr we are to the cause of Christ. That comes at this from the wrong angle.

Rather, we minister seeking excellence, effectiveness, and faithfulness. And when we fail, and sometimes fail extraordinarily, we hopefully learn from our experience so we do not repeat similar failures in the future. So, our failures should never be ignored or unexamined. We should not forget them. By remembering them we experience God’s forgiveness and we even may learn to forgive ourselves. In these times of humiliation, as Helder Camara suggests, “we learn the generosity of God.”

I recently had such an experience where I was humiliated by my actions. No one else realized it, I am sure, but I did. After I finished mentally and spiritually kicking myself over an extended period of time for what I had done, I asked God’s forgiveness. I learned something about myself in that humiliation. Whenever I find myself in a similar context again I am confident I will remind myself of what went before. Our memory is also part of God’s generosity. It can help us grow into the full stature of Christ.

So, for those of us engaged in the spiritual leadership of the Body of Christ, the issue is not how we can insulate ourselves from potential humiliation. Ministerial leadership requires us to be vulnerable to such potentiality. Otherwise, we would never risk anything for the sake of the Gospel. No, the issue is this: Do we have a spiritual inbox? Are we open to learning more about ourselves and our ministry? Are we willing to do the hard work of self-examination and growth that can come to us when are brought low and, yes, humiliated by our actions? The Church desperately needs leaders who are so inclined.

+Scott 

 
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eCrozier #60

On October 8, 2010, in discipleship, leadership, by bishopbenhase

As leaders in our congregations, we’re often called upon to help people struggle to discern faithful moral choices. So, I offer this reflection. It may help you as you seek to help yourself and others make moral choices.

Bonhoeffer reminded us that moral choices are never a struggle for certainty. They are a struggle for faithfulness. Faith, by its very nature, is about uncertainty otherwise it would not be called faith it would be called certainty. So, moral discernment thus begins with humility recognizing that I’m not God and can never this side of heaven see completely from God’s perspective. So, in humility I ask: What would God have me do in light of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus? His life, death and resurrection define God’s Good News to the world. My moral choices then should conform to his life, death and resurrection. They should exhibit the grace, mercy, and love of God incarnated in Jesus. Once I discern a course of action the Gospel again is my plumb line. My action should reflect what I know about God in the person of Jesus. Put another way, if asked, would other people see Jesus in the action I took?

As a disciple of Jesus, making moral choices is never about what feels good to me or what a particular political or social philosophy would tell me is the right choice. I strive to avoid baptizing what I choose or what some political or social commentator tells me I should choose. That simply confirms what I already want rather than have my action shaped and judged by the Gospel. Moral discernment for me must then contain a strong element of self-examination. I find it helpful to ask: What sort of preconceived notions do I hold about what God must want and how do those notions appear under the light of the Gospel? I can’t see Jesus clearly as long as I demand that God work only in the ways I’ve prescribed. St Paul reminds me that my life and identity has been changed into a new life and identity in Jesus (Romans 12).

The Gospel of Jesus continues to unzip my spiritual straightjacket. I seek to remind myself that Jesus lays down only one criterion for discipleship: The capacity to deny myself, take up my cross, and follow him – even to lay down my life, if need be, for the sake of the Gospel. So, in making moral choices, I find it helpful to imagine what Jesus might say to me following my moral choice. As Jesus is revealed in the Gospel, would he approve both of how I arrived at the choice and the choice itself?

Even with all the above in mind and practice, we will at times fail to act in a way that commends the faith that is in us. That is why the community of disciples known as the Church is such a great and important gift to us. Our struggle to live and act faithfully should not be done in isolation. We need friends for that journey. As Fr Alan Jones has said: I don’t want my friends to just accept me as I am; God Lord I hope they love me more than that.

+Scott

 
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eCrozier #57

On September 17, 2010, in culture, discipleship, love, by bishopbenhase

Descartes once whimsically concluded: “Good sense is the most fairly distributed commodity in the world, because nobody thinks he needs any more of it than he already has.” Methinks there was a tongue firmly planted in the Cartesian cheek when he said that. Descartes was on to a common human reality. It is similar to the observation that everyone seems to think they are above average drivers. Like Yogi we think we’re “smarter than the average bear” (that dates me!).

Hubris is nothing knew. While the ancient Greeks did not invent it, they sure gave it a lot of play in their writings. We all, more often than maybe we care to confess, believe we are lot more reasonable, sensible, and right-thinking than those people (whoever the particular “those people” are at the time). “If they would just be reasonable like I am, then everything would be a whole lot better,” we might find ourselves thinking (bishops, especially, oh my!).

This is a growing malady in contemporary American life. In the clash of competing ideas, philosophies, and approaches to life, the malady is somewhat unavoidable. Of course, we hold the beliefs we hold. And of course, we live the way we do. We wouldn’t believe and live the way we do if we thought it was nonsensical, now would we?  So, how might we as Christians, while not retreating one step from our beliefs and practices, seek to address this persistent affliction? Well, by being more committed to our baptismal vows, that’s how.

To “love my neighbor as myself” I do not need to agree with him or like him. I can even think she is a bit crazy for holding the beliefs she holds. To “respect the dignity of all people” I do not have to buy into what I might believe is the snake oil they are trying to sell me. You see, our baptismal vows are not about what other people think or do. Those vows are about what we believe and do; who it is we “follow and obey as Lord.”

We must avoid falling into the trap that says: If I love my neighbor who is different, if I respect her dignity, if I pray for her well-being even if she remains different from me, then I somehow am wishy-washy on my own beliefs or a “relativist” of some sort. That makes our human experience way too binary. We make a dangerous bed for ourselves if we adopt such a Manichean worldview that sees only a zero sum between differences.

A Rabbi friend of mine once said to me: “You know, Scott, we Jews would never have to be afraid of you Christians ever again if you just did one thing: Take Jesus seriously and follow his teaching.”  He is right. Yes, we live in a pluralist society full of competing beliefs and truth claims. And it is perfectly appropriate for us to say we believe and act in different ways from Jews, or Muslims, or agnostics because of our particular beliefs and practices. After all, if we did not believe with all our heart, mind, and strength that Jesus was “the way, the truth, and the life,” then we’d be something else.  If our discipleship is that serious, then our neighbors, whoever they are, will find peace in our midst. And who knows, that peace may extend farther out among more people.

+Scott

 
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eCrozier #55

On September 8, 2010, in culture, discipleship, by bishopbenhase

If you haven’t read David Brooks’ column in Tuesday’s New York Times, then I hope you will. You can read it here: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/07/opinion/07brooks.html?_r=1&ref=opinion

Brooks comments on the Reverend David Platt’s new book: Radical: Taking Back Your Faith From the American Dream. Brooks writes: Platt’s first target is the megachurch itself. Americans have built themselves multimillion-dollar worship palaces, he argues. These have become like corporations, competing for market share by offering social centers, child-care programs, first-class entertainment and comfortable, consumer Christianity. Jesus, Platt notes, made it hard on his followers. He created a minichurch, not a mega one. Today, however, building budgets dwarf charitable budgets, and Jesus is portrayed as a genial suburban dude. “When we gather in our church building to sing and lift up our hands in worship, we may not actually be worshipping the Jesus of the Bible. Instead, we may be worshipping ourselves.”

See a brief Youtube featuring Platt here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZfC7vAbte4

Amen. But let’s not be too quick to point our finger at the megachurch or its members. My daddy always used to say: “when you point your finger at others remember you got three pointing back at yourself.” We may not have aircraft hanger-like sanctuaries or lattes offered at coffee hour, but we in our own way stand just as convicted at times of turning Jesus into a “genial suburban dude,” or at least creating him in our own image. One of my favorite New Yorker cartoons shows an Episcopal Priest at the breakfast table with his wife and he is saying to her: “Darling, last night I had the most wonderful dream. I dreamt that God agreed with me on everything!”

Brooks quotes Platt (a megachurch pastor himself from Birmingham and a UGA grad) elsewhere: The material world is too soul-destroying. The American dream radically differs from the call of Jesus and the essence of the Gospel. The American dream emphasizes self-development and personal growth. Our own abilities are our greatest assets. But the Gospel rejects the focus on self: God actually delights in exalting our inability. The American dream emphasizes upward mobility, but success in the kingdom of God involves moving down, not up.

Amen, again! And this is in the New York Times of all places! Platt (and Brooks) reminds us that in some ways we have given into a delusion: that we can somehow pursue the fullness of the American Dream and, at the same time, live fully into our call to discipleship in Jesus. In our preaching and teaching, we should be sure to tell the truth. Being a disciple of Jesus isn’t about achieving success in our businesses or in our bank accounts. In fact, if we take Jesus’ call seriously, we may well be a failure in both.

+Scott

 
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