“For you kids watching at home, Santa just is white…You know, I mean, Jesus was a white man, too.” – A Cable News Anchor

What’s really sad about the above quote is that people who heard this news anchor say these words on a “news” station might actually be led to believe that she, as a news reporter, was reporting the truth. I’m intentionally withholding her name and network because I have no desire to pile on, adding to the national hullabaloo her clearly ignorant statement has created. That just keeps us all deeply entrenched in our own tribes and then, depending on the issue and the instance, we get mobilized into attack or defense mode for our tribe (if you’ve followed this story then you’ve seen that’s exactly what’s happened).

What I find much more interesting, important, and therefore more to the point of our sinful humanity, is the pattern into which we all, bar none, are inclined: Creating God in our own image. If we’re honest with ourselves, we all want a god who looks and acts like us. We want a god who shares our prejudices, proclivities, and politics. We want a god who agrees with us so we can rest easy knowing we’re OK, while those who don’t look and act like us are bound for eternal judgment. One of my favorite New Yorker cartoons shows an Episcopal priest at the breakfast table with his wife saying to her: “Darling, last night I had the most wonderful dream. I dreamt that God agreed with me on everything.” I’m sure God finds this more than a little bit amusing.

But the irony in the news anchor’s ignorance was that she was on to the truth: That was exactly what God did in the incarnation of Jesus at Christmas…but with a twist. God became as we are. God became fully human and not just an idealized form of humanity. Jesus became human into the same wonderful, diseased, joyous, alienated, beautiful, and sinful humanity as the rest of us. And here’s the twist: he became human, not so he could be like us, but rather so we might be like him. He came to take us, in the complexity and messiness of our humanity, into the divine life of God.

Vassar Miller in her poem: The Wisdom of Insecurity, wrote this: God will not play our games nor join our fun, Does not give tit for tat, parade His glories. Christmas celebrates the most profound of acts: God fully sharing our humanity in Jesus. But in our celebration, let’s be clear: In becoming human God doesn’t share our prejudices, proclivities, and politics. God doesn’t play our petty tribal games, nor does God engage in silly, retributive one-up-man-ship. God comes to us at Christmas, not to play games, but to reveal his nature and to redeem the world in and through Jesus.

Jesus is black, brown, red, yellow, and yes, white, and every other possible hue of human skin because he’s God incarnate, the Creator and Redeemer of humankind. In a way that I’m sure she didn’t intend it, the news anchor in question, in a clueless, backdoor way, got it kind of, somewhat right. Santa, however, is pretty much all pink with a blue nose and toes. You know how cold it is at the North Pole, don’t you?

+Scott

 

So if you’re walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow ancient eyes
Please don’t just pass ’em by and stare
As if you didn’t care, say, “Hello in there, hello”
– John Prine from his song, “Hello in There.”

We live in a culture where we seem to connect more with people through social media than we do through incarnated interaction. Connecting with the others electronically is not a detrimental thing in itself, but if it replaces incarnated relationships, then it will further alienate us from one another. The irony of modern life is that many are so connected and yet so alone. Human relationships, of course, are messy, so I get why people are retreating to electronic ones. They can control when to interact and the relationship’s parameters. That’s harder to do when another person is present with us. Incarnated relationships lay a claim on us that’s personally demanding and sometimes painful. In electronic ones, all we need do is turn off the device.

Newsweek last week ran a story on the alarming rise in the suicide rate over the last decade. According to Newsweek, Julie Phillips, a sociologist at Rutgers University, analyzed this new data. It used to be that teenagers and the elderly had the highest rates, but that’s no longer the case. Baby Boomers, those born between 1945 and 1962, now have the highest rate. What’s alarming, however, is that while “the boomers have the highest suicide rate right now, everyone born after 1945 shows a higher suicide risk than expected—and everyone is on pace for a higher rate than the boomers.” What’s causing this profound change across all regions of our country? According to Newsweek: “[Phillips] has a good list of suspects: the astounding rise in people living alone, or else feeling alone; the rise in the number of people living in sickness and pain; the fact that church involvement no longer increases with age, while bankruptcy rates, health-care costs, and long-term unemployment certainly do.” Oh my!

Kathy Mattea sings about going “through life parched and empty” all the while “standing knee deep in a river and dying of thirst.” My hunch is that those who are so “parched and empty” don’t even know there is the water of life running around them knee-high. Those who choose suicide have made a clear calculation: death is preferable to their life as it is. To them it makes sense. If they have no incarnated relationships where they are loved unconditionally, where grace and forgiveness are the operative virtues, and where they share with others a clear meaning and purpose in life, then there is some sense, however bent and twisted, in such a choice.

Do we as a Church need any more of a mission imperative than what is provided by that list of suspected causes for the rise in suicides? We must reach out to them with the Good News of Jesus, who is the Water of Life. Yet, as the John Prine song states: We so often just pass folks by and never stop to say “hello in there.” We as a Church have the antidote. It is time for us to share the cure.

+Scott

 

Christmas Edition (eCrozier #159)

The Divine Decision to take up human flesh in Jesus at Christmas is a sign that God has never given up on the world. It’s a sign that God has graced humanity in the person of Jesus. So, the creation is good, not because of its elemental goodness, but because God has chosen to grace it by being born into it. Such grace isn’t our doing. It’s the Light of God in Jesus shining into creation, a creation that’s bent and disordered by human sin.

Part of our bent, disorderly sinful nature is shown in our fears. When fear grips us we don’t act in love. When fear rules our lives we don’t forgive. When fear becomes our guiding principle our compassion isn’t what people see. When fear rules the day we’re more apt to be violent, like when an animal is cornered. When we become enveloped in our fears, we too can act like cornered animals.

But God has done something for creation in Jesus that puts fear to flight. Jesus is the ultimate word to us that we’ve nothing to fear, even from God. And many people do fear God, but not in the Biblical sense of being humble before God. Many people actually fear that God is out to get them. This is due in some part by our cultural Christmas celebration. You know the song: “You better watch out; you better not cry-why? Because Jesus is coming to town.” If you’ve been good you go to heaven, but if you’ve been bad you go to hell. Of course, that’s horrible theology. It denies the very foundation of God’s grace.

Anyway, a God who wanted us to be afraid of Him never would’ve been born into the world as a helpless child. If God risked becoming a vulnerable baby, then we’re going to be just fine held in the hands of such a God. That’s the liberating good news embedded in the Incarnation. God plops Jesus down in the midst of humanity and says: “Here’s my baby boy. In order to prove how much I love you, I’m willing to let you do what you want with him!” And on Good Friday, we took God up on that offer.

The truth of God’s incarnation in Jesus directs us to look upon one another in a new light. Other human beings don’t simply share our genetic code. They, like us, have had their lives graced by the incarnation of Jesus. Every human being now embodies God’s image graced by Jesus. Thus, we cannot stand idly by while Jesus is homeless. We can’t ignore God while she’s hungry. We can’t pretend to be unconcerned about Jesus when he is ill-clothed. We can’t look away when God is treated with contempt and injustice. We embrace one another now because God has embraced all of us in the birth of Jesus.

Jesus then is the gift from God that can’t be returned even if we have the original sale’s receipt. Jesus might be the only real, true gift we receive this Christmas. Many gifts are in fact a quid pro quo exchange, where we find out if what we gave others is as nice as what they gave us. And if we didn’t reciprocate with a gift of equal or greater value, then we feel guilty. The gift of Jesus, however, can’t be reciprocated in any way. Jesus is the pure, unmerited gift from God. As the angel said to the shepherds, “don’t be afraid.” At Christmas, God thought of everything.

+Scott

 

In our church year we are in Ascensiontide, that time between the Feasts of the Ascension (this year on May 17) and Pentecost (this year on May 27). Our theological understanding of the Ascension, made manifest in the two collects the Church has for that feast day, exposes some of the historic breadth and comprehensiveness of Anglicanism.

The first of two collects from which we can choose in the Book of Common Prayer is this: Almighty God, whose blessed Son our Savior Jesus Christ ascended far above all heavens that he might fill all things: Mercifully give us faith to perceive that, according to his promise, he abides with his Church on earth, even to the end of the ages; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

The second collect is this: Grant, we pray, Almighty God, that as we believe your only-begotten Son our Lord Jesus Christ to have ascended into heaven, so we may also in heart and mind there ascend, and with him continually dwell; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

How we pray shapes how we believe, as the old saying goes. These two collects reflect two distinctive, historic parts of our Anglican Tradition. It should not surprise anyone who knows our Anglican history that each is somewhat at odds with the other. The first collect asks God to give us faith so that we might perceive Jesus abiding with his Church on earth even to the end of the ages. This is classic Anglican incarnational theology. Jesus does not ascend into heaven as an escape from earth. He ascends that the Holy Spirit will infuse the Church with his eternal presence on earth. The Church then becomes the ongoing Body of Christ in the world continuing the Lord’s incarnation until he comes again at the close of the age.

The second collect asks that, through our belief in Jesus as our Lord, Jesus will take our heart and mind with him into heaven so that we might dwell there with him eternally. This is classic Anglican pietistic theology. It reflects that, while we are in the world, we must never be of the world; that our true home is heaven, where our hearts and minds truly dwell.

Both collects are true and are needed to keep us honest in our theology. Incarnational theology, taken to its extreme, can shape us in all too worldly ways where we get far too comfortable with the world as it is. Likewise, pietistic theology, in its extreme, becomes escapist where we ignore the importance of the Gospel’s declaration that “God so loved the world.” In our comprehensiveness, our theology places us in tension with one another and this example from the Feast of the Ascension exemplifies that. If we find ourselves naturally gravitating to one of these two collects, I hope we honestly name that, and then open ourselves up to listen to what important truth the other collect is saying to us.

+Scott

 

 

The comedian Louis C.K. performs a hilarious bit about flying first class now that he’s become a successful entertainer. In the bit, he tells how when he’s sitting in first class and sees military personnel walking back to coach class, he considers getting up from his seat and saying to them: “Look, you’ve been willing to serve and maybe die in your service, the least I could do is trade seats with you so you can fly first class.” Of course, he never actually does this and probably never will, but he nevertheless believes he’s a better person, maybe even better than most people, for simply contemplating doing such a good deed. Louis C.K. is so funny because his comedy captures the spirit of our contemporary culture, sometimes devastatingly so. In our culture, you really do not have to act on your beliefs or convictions. It’s sufficient enough just to have them.

A few years ago I asked an adult Sunday School class: “What are the expectations of a faithful Muslim?” A number of people immediately responded: “pray five times a day.” Another quickly added: “Fast during the daylight hours of Ramadan.” Still another said: “If possible, make a pilgrimage to Mecca in your lifetime.” I then asked: “What are the expectations of a faithful Christian in our Anglican tradition?” There was some awkward silence before one person offered: “Go to church on Sunday and try to live a good life.” I saw a lot of nodding heads. Everyone seemed satisfied with that answer, but I said that in our Anglican tradition there were more behavioral expectations than that. I then spoke about weekly participation in the Eucharist, daily prayer using some form of the Daily Office, and the regular practice of service and justice in the world. And that was just for starters. I asked them to review the Baptismal Covenant in the Prayer Book. I said our Anglican Tradition had a Benedictine quality to its spiritual practice where we seek a balance of work, rest, and play; that we’re strongly incarnational in living our faith, finding God particularly in the people, things, and circumstances of our lives.

The general response was that this was all well and good, but none of these should be considered “requirements” or even “expectations.” One man even said that it wouldn’t be very hospitable to newcomers if we laid expectations on them. “It might turn them off. They wouldn’t feel welcome. Besides, we’re saved by faith, not works.” Yes, that’s true. But faith, at least as I’ve always understood it, is more than going to church weekly and trying to be a good person. Faith is the joining together of belief and action so that it changes and shapes the way we live our faith in the world.

Like with Louis C.K.’s comedy bit, it’s not enough for us to just think good thoughts about God, or really intend with all our hearts to help, for example, with building a Habitat house, or to contemplate seriously sharing our faith in Jesus with our neighbor. It matters that we do these things rather than to congratulate ourselves for merely desiring to do them someday. Is it any wonder that many people, particularly young adults, are turned off by what they perceive as the hypocrisy of the Church? As one young adult said to me recently: “I want to follow Jesus. I’m just not too sure I want to hang out with members of his fan club.” Such perceptions will only change when others see in us a congruency of belief and action.

+Scott

 

Not used to talkin’ to somebody in the body. Somebody in a body, somebody in a body.
– U2 in their song Fast Cars

The recent political spectacle in our national life has exposed our growing inability to really listen to another person who is embodied in our time and space. This requires us not to interrupt them or pretend to listen while we’re actually formulating a rebuttal. It also demands that we not the see the other person as an object to be dismissed into a category we’ve already reserved for them, but rather as another human being who has known love as well as heartache, has succeeded in something but has also failed in other things. In other words, they’re real persons, not caricatures.

I’m afraid our facebooked, texted, and blogged culture has further disembodied our sense of self and consequently how we’re present and incarnate in real time with the other person who currently cohabitates our space. For some this gives license to literally depersonalize the other person. As this ratchets up, the other person becomes a distorted figment of what we project on to them from the disembodied distance of our computer or smart phone.

In his amazing book, To End All Wars, Adam Hochschild, carefully documents the run up to WWI. Unlike in many other wars, there was no real provocation. The nations who went to war were eagerly trading with one another. Their respective royal families were intermarried. But a series of miscommunications and misinterpretations about those communications quickly led one side to strike first to avoid what they perceived to be the imminent strike of the other. Soon after came the propaganda campaign that effectively characterized the respective sides as inhumane monsters. Most people were willing to accept the characterization of the propagandists. As Paul Simon penned in The Boxer: “a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.”

One the central truths of the Christian faith is the incarnation of God in Jesus Christ. The Incarnation tells us that our matter matters to God. The truth of God gracing human life in Jesus reveals that humanity has been endowed with a worth and dignity beyond creation. St Paul conveys this truth in 2 Corinthians 5. He says that as Christians we can no longer regard one another in a dismissive manner. Since Christ became one of us and has now been resurrected, our perspective on one another must change. No one, St Paul says, can now be seen in any way other than in the light of Christ’s life, death, resurrection, and ascension. Our humanity has ascended to God with Christ.

No one means no one, not even our enemies, our political rivals, or even that neighbor (you know who you are) who has repeatedly ignored our requests to remove that old Chevy up on blocks in his front yard. We Christians need to start a revolution of really being incarnate with other human beings so we can be truly human with one another and not objects of one another’s projections. Let’s start with members of the Church and we’ll work out from there.

+Scott