I have spent the morning answering several more letters regarding the Lowe's issue. I thought I'd post this reponse, to "John." He wrote, accusing me of ignoring all the violence and rape and murder of Muslims around the world and, strangely, of failing to express "concern at the cointnued assualts on the simple expression of 'Merry Chrstmas.'" (Where did that come from?) Here's my response...
Dear “John,”
I am sorry that I am just now responding to your letter of December 20. Christmas is a busy season for us, and I am just now digging out. Despite the condescending tone of your letter, it was a Merry Christmas, and I trust yours was as well. I wished many Merry Christmases this season, as I do every season.
I have read and re-read your letter, and I don’t honestly know how to respond, yet I appreciate you taking the time to write and wanted to respond in kind. Respectful discourse is a key to our society’s success, and I trust you will receive my letter in that spirit.
Many in the religious community were concerned about the decision by Lowes – because it was perceived as an act that discriminated against one religious community in this country, or because it was perceived that they were pressured to act by one religious group, speaking out against another. The officials at Lowes greeted our delegation respectfully, and we dialogued openly for more than an hour. It was the kind of civil discourse that is woefully missing from our public life – and when it was over both the religious leaders and the Lowe’s officials celebrated the discourse as a success. In that hour the officials at Lowe’s reiterated their support of American Muslims, and people of all faiths, and no faith. Their statement and defense of diversity is quite vigorous and a core value of their corporation. In fact, Lowe’s knew that the show, “All American Muslim,” was part of the advertising block they had purchased – and they saw no need to block it, because they support the Muslim community in this country. It was only after listening to the social media “chatter” which came to surround the show that they made an advertising decision (not a religious or ethical one) to pull their advertising. The officials admitted to us that their response to the rising controversy had been handled “clumsily” (this was their language). They admitted that they had allowed the small group in Florida to claim a religious victory in pressuring Lowe’s to pull their advertising. So, Lowe’s admitted that their handling of the issue allowed it to become a perceived act of religious intolerance. Over and over they defended their values statements, their belief in religious toleration, their support of American Muslims, and adherents of all other faiths.
You do not know me, John, so you have no right to accuse me as you have. I have not ignored the abuses of Islam around the world, as you suggest. I am quite aware of these issues. But neither have I ignored the countless atrocities committed in the name of Christ in the last 2,000 years. Unfortunately, no religion is free from the idolatry of violence. So I am acutely aware, and deeply concerned about religious violence in this world – regardless the perpetrator, and regardless the victim – and I am deeply concerned about the hostility between religions, which I believe only increases the tensions, and inevitably leads to more violence. It was for this reason, and because I am a Baptist, that I chose to speak with Lowes about our concerns.
Baptists were founded as a protest to the tyranny of State Religion. Roger Williams, the first Baptist in American, was exiled to Providence, Rhode Island, because of his unyielding insistence that “papists, Jews, and Turks” be allowed to worship as the saw fit. This dissenter’s voice was not popular in 1639, and the voices of religious tolerance are still not accepted. (As I have been reminded so keenly in the last few weeks!) Roger Williams did not agree with all of the tenets of the Turks (Muslims), nor of the Native Americans, who practice animism, nor of the atheists, who practiced not at all – but he was convinced in the urgency of “liberty of conscience” – that only religion affirmed, free of coercion, could be true. Out of that conviction he willingly defended even those whose religions were in degrees of opposition to his own. In that regard I am Baptist to the core, and will continue to defend the rights of Americans to practice the religion of their choosing , or no religion at all – and without coercion, and without violence, and without the discriminatory condescension that so many cast on the religion of another.
Finally, you say that the separation of church and state is nowhere to be found in the constitution, yet the very first amendment to the constitution ensconces this separation – in both the “establishment clause” and the “free exercise clause.” The Bill of Rights became law in 1791, the work of most of the same founding fathers who created our beloved Constitution, which had become law only four years earlier. Just as the second amendment is “gospel truth” for so many in this country (and I support second amendment rights), the first amendment, guaranteeing the freedom of religion for all in this great land (which sounds pretty Baptist to me!), is a core principle of this nation.
Believing that this nation was founded to be free from state tyranny over religion, and believing that the nation was founded on the value of pluralism – an openness to people of every creed and culture (“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…”), I will continue in my defense of religious liberty.
It is too late to wish you a Merry Christmas, but in a spirit of religious conviction and of liberty of conscience…
Grace and Peace,
Russ
Friday, January 13, 2012
Friday, December 23, 2011
Lowe's and All-American Muslim
As if I had nothing else to do this week of Christmas, I have devoted a great deal of time on this issue -- and have never done anything that has drawn so much attention, and so much fire. I've given interviews for about a dozen media outlets, and was contacted by the Keith Olbermann show on Current TV... Here's my synopsis of the events of Tuesday. I welcome your comments.
I spent most of my day Tuesday wrapped up in the delivery of a box of signed petitions to the headquarters of Lowe’s, Inc. As a representative of Mecklenburg Ministries, I was part of a 5-member clergy delegation who visited Mooresville, signatures in hand. The signatures were from six organizations around the country and ended in my hands through some cyber-miracle and laser printing. The signatures represented petitions protesting Lowe’s decision to withdraw advertising from the show “All-American Muslim,” and asked Lowe’s executives to reconsider their decision.
If I have a “soap box” it’s that we have lost the ability to communicate in this country. No one listens. We’re just obsessed with talking points. And lobbing grenades toward the other side. So, we didn’t know what to expect from Lowe’s. They didn’t know what to expect from us. But both parties were pleased.
I’m not afraid of differing viewpoints, nor even of ideas I consider wrong-headed. I am afraid of the future of a nation that cannot dialogue. But in a second-floor conference room at the Lowe’s headquarters in Mooresville, NC, dialogue happened. They talked, and we listened. We talked, and they listened. In the end, we didn’t necessarily agree – but we walked out understanding one another’s positions, with a real sense of respect and trust, and with hope for the future. Chalk one up for dialogue.
The dialogue was healthy and respectful. We delivered a message from 200,000 Americans, frustrated that Lowe’s had made a decision that seemed biased against the Muslim American community. Baptists, like all true Americans, have always stood for religious freedom (our nation was founded on this principle, and so were Baptists), so as a Baptist minister I stand against any decision discriminating against any religion. And as a Baptist minister with Muslim friends who are All-American: hard-working and honest, peace-loving and God-fearing, who have the same dreams for their children and the same hopes for our country – and who hold as central many of the same religious imperatives that I do, I was sorry to hear of one more event that further divided us.
In that board room, though, four executives told us that the decision was not based on intolerance or discrimination, and it was made before they ever heard from the Florida group that has now taken credit for pressuring Lowe’s into withdrawing its ad. Lowe’s has an impressive policy and record regarding diversity and holds commitments to pluralism, tolerance, and respect. The decision to pull their advertising was made as all of them are made – based on the rules governing advertising decisions. This was just a business decision. The wisdom of advertising experts and the numbers influenced the decision. They make these decisions, based on these same rules, every day. I trust that report. Dialogue will do that for you. And I understand making business decisions. Our country was also founded on this principle.
So, as a Baptist minister I support my All-American Muslim friends, and sympathize with their frustration, feeling once again stereotyped and alienated, and I support my new friends at Lowe’s (who should be old friends by now, given the money I’ve spent there in a decade!), and I sympathize with the predicament they are in, being a company founded on values such as diversity and integrity, yet embroiled in controversy over a business decision.
We went to Mooresville because we thought this was a teachable moment for all. The clergy learned the perennial lesson that things are not always as they seem, that people should listen more carefully, be sure of the facts, before they speak. It’s not my place to assume what Lowe’s learned, though they freely admitted they made errors in this, and wish they had done things differently. But perhaps there is a lesson for us all in being aware that the bottom line shouldn’t always be the bottom line, and a reminder that real people often get caught in the wake that business decisions always leave. Life is about relationships. And no business decision can ever guarantee a real relationship.
We’ve got to have dialogue for that.
I spent most of my day Tuesday wrapped up in the delivery of a box of signed petitions to the headquarters of Lowe’s, Inc. As a representative of Mecklenburg Ministries, I was part of a 5-member clergy delegation who visited Mooresville, signatures in hand. The signatures were from six organizations around the country and ended in my hands through some cyber-miracle and laser printing. The signatures represented petitions protesting Lowe’s decision to withdraw advertising from the show “All-American Muslim,” and asked Lowe’s executives to reconsider their decision.
If I have a “soap box” it’s that we have lost the ability to communicate in this country. No one listens. We’re just obsessed with talking points. And lobbing grenades toward the other side. So, we didn’t know what to expect from Lowe’s. They didn’t know what to expect from us. But both parties were pleased.
I’m not afraid of differing viewpoints, nor even of ideas I consider wrong-headed. I am afraid of the future of a nation that cannot dialogue. But in a second-floor conference room at the Lowe’s headquarters in Mooresville, NC, dialogue happened. They talked, and we listened. We talked, and they listened. In the end, we didn’t necessarily agree – but we walked out understanding one another’s positions, with a real sense of respect and trust, and with hope for the future. Chalk one up for dialogue.
The dialogue was healthy and respectful. We delivered a message from 200,000 Americans, frustrated that Lowe’s had made a decision that seemed biased against the Muslim American community. Baptists, like all true Americans, have always stood for religious freedom (our nation was founded on this principle, and so were Baptists), so as a Baptist minister I stand against any decision discriminating against any religion. And as a Baptist minister with Muslim friends who are All-American: hard-working and honest, peace-loving and God-fearing, who have the same dreams for their children and the same hopes for our country – and who hold as central many of the same religious imperatives that I do, I was sorry to hear of one more event that further divided us.
In that board room, though, four executives told us that the decision was not based on intolerance or discrimination, and it was made before they ever heard from the Florida group that has now taken credit for pressuring Lowe’s into withdrawing its ad. Lowe’s has an impressive policy and record regarding diversity and holds commitments to pluralism, tolerance, and respect. The decision to pull their advertising was made as all of them are made – based on the rules governing advertising decisions. This was just a business decision. The wisdom of advertising experts and the numbers influenced the decision. They make these decisions, based on these same rules, every day. I trust that report. Dialogue will do that for you. And I understand making business decisions. Our country was also founded on this principle.
So, as a Baptist minister I support my All-American Muslim friends, and sympathize with their frustration, feeling once again stereotyped and alienated, and I support my new friends at Lowe’s (who should be old friends by now, given the money I’ve spent there in a decade!), and I sympathize with the predicament they are in, being a company founded on values such as diversity and integrity, yet embroiled in controversy over a business decision.
We went to Mooresville because we thought this was a teachable moment for all. The clergy learned the perennial lesson that things are not always as they seem, that people should listen more carefully, be sure of the facts, before they speak. It’s not my place to assume what Lowe’s learned, though they freely admitted they made errors in this, and wish they had done things differently. But perhaps there is a lesson for us all in being aware that the bottom line shouldn’t always be the bottom line, and a reminder that real people often get caught in the wake that business decisions always leave. Life is about relationships. And no business decision can ever guarantee a real relationship.
We’ve got to have dialogue for that.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Nothing Has Changed About Israel. Except Everything.
This was my first post from Israel during my recent visit.
r
I was here 26 years ago and everything is the same. Nothing has changed in 2,000 years, in fact. Except, well... everything...
Let me back up. I'm in Israel, sitting at a computer in the library of the Scots Hotel, St. Andrews Galilee. The window in front of me overlooks the Sea of Galilee. In the morning the sunrise is spectacular (not that I've actually seen the sun, actually rise), but the water glimmers as daylight breaks over the Golan Heights, visible on the eastern shore. After a fabulous breakfast we board the bus and head out. Our Palestinian Christian guide, Claudia ("cloud-ia"), who was raised in Germany and has a Jewish husband and two beautiful Hebrew-speaking, Palestinian-Roman-Catholic children, is our guide. As that last sentence might hint, her insight is fascinating. She speaks as we drive... Kafer Nahum (Capernaum), the Mount of Beatitudes, the traditional sight of the feeding of the 5,000 and the site of Jesus' breakfast with his disciples (on the shore of the Sea following his resurrection), Magdala (home of Mary Magdalene), the Jordan River, Nazareth (the cave which was Mary's home and the spring where she undoubtedly drew water)... So far...
26 years ago I saw many of these same "traditional" sites. Archaeologists and biblical scholars recognize that many of the sites hardly even purport to be authentic locations – it was not until the conversion of Constantine in the 4th century (and especially the "Holy Land" pilgrimage which his mother, Helena, took) that these sites began to be venerated. But for the 16 centuries since, churches have marked virtually every miracle, every significant moment in Jesus' ministry, and Christian pilgrims have visited these sites, paying homage, saying prayers, making commitments, reflecting... wondering... doubting... genuflecting... offering the whole range of spiritual responses you might expect to come when you stand in the shadow of such (sometimes gaudy) edifices, built on some "holy ground." Nothing has changed. And for 26 years one of the lasting impressions left me not remembering a trip to the "Holy Land," but remembering a quite unholy place – a land marked by bitter divisions, between warring factions of Jews and Christians and Muslims (and warring factions within each of those religions, themselves), and the trinkety excesses that commercialism has made of some of the sites. (You should just see "baptismland," as one of my traveling companions dubbed the amusement park which honors Jesus' baptism by John! And I'm sorry that we couldn't stop at the "First Miracle Souvenir and Wine Shop" in Cana – I was hoping they might actually have one final bottle of that original wedding wine left on a shelf – just for me!) No, it hasn't changed. In 26 years. Or in 2,000...
But I have.
Strange, you know... with the journey that has been my life since 1985, I approach Israel much less devotional in my piety than when I traveled here as an enthusiastic, ministry-bound college junior. I would have expected to have trembled with more excitement, "walking today where Jesus walked," 26 years ago. But even looking at the whole world with a more critical eye, a product of what scholars have called a "hermeneutic of suspicion" (come on, did this really happen...), as the pastor of a progressive church and one who now possesses a distinctly interpretive understanding of scripture (I read virtually none of it now as "just black and white")... I stood in the excavated town of Capernaum, which the gospels say became Jesus' hometown during his ministry in Galilee, walked in and out of the synagogue which he undoubtedly knew, stood over the site which even skeptical archaeologists agree may very well have been the actual home of Peter... and I had a sense of the old song, which betrayed me 26 years ago: "I walked today where Jesus walked – and felt his presence there."
All I can tell you is that my experience is common with millions who have sought to follow that strange and challenging and life-changing "man of Galilee." What I need most is precisely what he gives me – when I need it.
The land is the same. So are the sites. And so is Jesus, after all this time. Strangely, though, I've only been here four days, and think I'll be coming home changed.
That's still my prayer...
r
I was here 26 years ago and everything is the same. Nothing has changed in 2,000 years, in fact. Except, well... everything...
Let me back up. I'm in Israel, sitting at a computer in the library of the Scots Hotel, St. Andrews Galilee. The window in front of me overlooks the Sea of Galilee. In the morning the sunrise is spectacular (not that I've actually seen the sun, actually rise), but the water glimmers as daylight breaks over the Golan Heights, visible on the eastern shore. After a fabulous breakfast we board the bus and head out. Our Palestinian Christian guide, Claudia ("cloud-ia"), who was raised in Germany and has a Jewish husband and two beautiful Hebrew-speaking, Palestinian-Roman-Catholic children, is our guide. As that last sentence might hint, her insight is fascinating. She speaks as we drive... Kafer Nahum (Capernaum), the Mount of Beatitudes, the traditional sight of the feeding of the 5,000 and the site of Jesus' breakfast with his disciples (on the shore of the Sea following his resurrection), Magdala (home of Mary Magdalene), the Jordan River, Nazareth (the cave which was Mary's home and the spring where she undoubtedly drew water)... So far...
26 years ago I saw many of these same "traditional" sites. Archaeologists and biblical scholars recognize that many of the sites hardly even purport to be authentic locations – it was not until the conversion of Constantine in the 4th century (and especially the "Holy Land" pilgrimage which his mother, Helena, took) that these sites began to be venerated. But for the 16 centuries since, churches have marked virtually every miracle, every significant moment in Jesus' ministry, and Christian pilgrims have visited these sites, paying homage, saying prayers, making commitments, reflecting... wondering... doubting... genuflecting... offering the whole range of spiritual responses you might expect to come when you stand in the shadow of such (sometimes gaudy) edifices, built on some "holy ground." Nothing has changed. And for 26 years one of the lasting impressions left me not remembering a trip to the "Holy Land," but remembering a quite unholy place – a land marked by bitter divisions, between warring factions of Jews and Christians and Muslims (and warring factions within each of those religions, themselves), and the trinkety excesses that commercialism has made of some of the sites. (You should just see "baptismland," as one of my traveling companions dubbed the amusement park which honors Jesus' baptism by John! And I'm sorry that we couldn't stop at the "First Miracle Souvenir and Wine Shop" in Cana – I was hoping they might actually have one final bottle of that original wedding wine left on a shelf – just for me!) No, it hasn't changed. In 26 years. Or in 2,000...
But I have.
Strange, you know... with the journey that has been my life since 1985, I approach Israel much less devotional in my piety than when I traveled here as an enthusiastic, ministry-bound college junior. I would have expected to have trembled with more excitement, "walking today where Jesus walked," 26 years ago. But even looking at the whole world with a more critical eye, a product of what scholars have called a "hermeneutic of suspicion" (come on, did this really happen...), as the pastor of a progressive church and one who now possesses a distinctly interpretive understanding of scripture (I read virtually none of it now as "just black and white")... I stood in the excavated town of Capernaum, which the gospels say became Jesus' hometown during his ministry in Galilee, walked in and out of the synagogue which he undoubtedly knew, stood over the site which even skeptical archaeologists agree may very well have been the actual home of Peter... and I had a sense of the old song, which betrayed me 26 years ago: "I walked today where Jesus walked – and felt his presence there."
All I can tell you is that my experience is common with millions who have sought to follow that strange and challenging and life-changing "man of Galilee." What I need most is precisely what he gives me – when I need it.
The land is the same. So are the sites. And so is Jesus, after all this time. Strangely, though, I've only been here four days, and think I'll be coming home changed.
That's still my prayer...
Learning to Pray in Jerusalem
I just returned from the Holy Land. This post comes from last week, a reflection I sent in for our church newsletter. Love to have your comments...
r
The Jews were "greeting the Sabbath Bride" at the Western Wall – which means something of a religious party at the world's most sacred Jewish site. Young men and old come to the wall to pray on Friday nights at sundown. Many are dressed in orthodox garb. The hats are a sight to behold, all shapes and sizes. All are wearing their fringes (which hang below their shirts), and many have "ear locks" (hair just in front of their ears that grows long, sometimes hanging down below their shoulders, twisted fashionably-religiously). Their praying takes many forms. Some stand quietly. Some approach the wall and place a hand on it. Some bend to kiss these ancient stones. Many practice prayer through '"davin" (bending at the waist, mildly or wildly). Some read from Hebrew prayer books. Many gather in circles and sing happy songs, laughing and dancing excitedly. (The women are there, too... only, on their side of the fence. I'm assuming their party looks about the same as the men's side.) It really is an amazing, beautiful, moving sight. Though this kind of Jewish worship is foreign to me, I was moved by the piety, the excitement, the reverence with which they approach this 2000-year-old retaining wall, which once supported the Temple. Last Friday night we stayed for more than an hour. We offered our own prayers and enjoyed the spectacle (I mean no disrespect by the word spectacle, but for our un-initiated eyes, it was something to see!) Several men walked by our small group, excitedly reaching out to embrace three American strangers, and offering "Shabbat, Shalom" (Sabbath peace). We returned the greeting with enthusiasm, and were impressed with their hospitality – being there for the "spectacle" and all – the enthusiasm for this weekly observance just seemed enough to overcome any offense they might have otherwise experienced.
When our small group of pastors re-convened outside the enclosed area of the plaza, we stood, viewing the whole panorama. It was a beautiful Jerusalem night. The moon was rising behind us over the stone structures in the old city. The lights on the Western Wall and the sights and sounds of that Sabbath prayer filled our senses – when high above that wall a new sound emerged. The Al Aksa mosque, the third holiest mosque for the world's Muslims, sits within a few hundred feet of the top of the Western wall – and from the mosque the call to prayer was wailing through the city. Here we stood, American, Christian pastors, experiencing the worship of God, now in two foreign languages, and the mix of that beautiful, nasal Arabic cry along with the hushed and shouted Hebrew prayers is a sound I will not soon forget. I can only imagine it pleases God's ears as well.
As we made our way back through the city, to the Notre Dame Center, our home for the week, as we attempted to enter one of the narrow intersections our progress was completely halted by the mass of Muslim pilgrims heeding the call of prayer, and making their way to the Temple mount, which contains the Al Aksa mosque and the Dome of the Rock (the spectacular gold-domed shrine which is the visual centerpiece of the old city of Jerusalem). It was like a stampede – the beginning of the holy month of Ramadan – so there was no way to cross that mass of bodies. We waited. The Jews behind us. The Muslims in front of us. Leading us all to pray...
Speaking of this experience later that evening, one of my colleagues mused in amazement that there is no more violence here, given the close proximity of these conflicting children of Abraham and their religious holy sites. Our Wake Forest Divinity School leader, however, reminded us that since the Muslim conquest of Jerusalem, 1400 years ago, the Jews and the Muslims have gotten along amazingly well. Sharing this city. Sharing these holy streets. Virtually sharing the sacred ground on which their faiths call them to pray. There's a sermon in that. You'll probably hear it soon!
I’ve done my own share of praying this week, remembering you... remembering Jesus... reflecting on my life as his follower and your pastor, and as a parent of two and a husband of one and a joy-filled (if sometimes still confused!) wanna-be-disciple. But I'll have to tell you that it's not the Christian pilgrims to this city that have inspired me the most this week – though we've also encountered thousands of Christian pilgrims from around the world. Ironically (and when we open our eyes to God's amazing presence around us, "irony" may become a more and more frequent encounter for us!), I'll leave the Holy Land in 10 hours with the inspiration of Muslim and Jewish followers, leaving their busy lives, herding through crowded city streets, singing and dancing and praying quietly, in that discipline that is as old as human self-consciousness. Among the many things I have learned on this trip... I think I'll come home a better pray-er.
And maybe that's what this pilgrimage was supposed to do for me – even if I learned it in a very surprising way!
r
The Jews were "greeting the Sabbath Bride" at the Western Wall – which means something of a religious party at the world's most sacred Jewish site. Young men and old come to the wall to pray on Friday nights at sundown. Many are dressed in orthodox garb. The hats are a sight to behold, all shapes and sizes. All are wearing their fringes (which hang below their shirts), and many have "ear locks" (hair just in front of their ears that grows long, sometimes hanging down below their shoulders, twisted fashionably-religiously). Their praying takes many forms. Some stand quietly. Some approach the wall and place a hand on it. Some bend to kiss these ancient stones. Many practice prayer through '"davin" (bending at the waist, mildly or wildly). Some read from Hebrew prayer books. Many gather in circles and sing happy songs, laughing and dancing excitedly. (The women are there, too... only, on their side of the fence. I'm assuming their party looks about the same as the men's side.) It really is an amazing, beautiful, moving sight. Though this kind of Jewish worship is foreign to me, I was moved by the piety, the excitement, the reverence with which they approach this 2000-year-old retaining wall, which once supported the Temple. Last Friday night we stayed for more than an hour. We offered our own prayers and enjoyed the spectacle (I mean no disrespect by the word spectacle, but for our un-initiated eyes, it was something to see!) Several men walked by our small group, excitedly reaching out to embrace three American strangers, and offering "Shabbat, Shalom" (Sabbath peace). We returned the greeting with enthusiasm, and were impressed with their hospitality – being there for the "spectacle" and all – the enthusiasm for this weekly observance just seemed enough to overcome any offense they might have otherwise experienced.
When our small group of pastors re-convened outside the enclosed area of the plaza, we stood, viewing the whole panorama. It was a beautiful Jerusalem night. The moon was rising behind us over the stone structures in the old city. The lights on the Western Wall and the sights and sounds of that Sabbath prayer filled our senses – when high above that wall a new sound emerged. The Al Aksa mosque, the third holiest mosque for the world's Muslims, sits within a few hundred feet of the top of the Western wall – and from the mosque the call to prayer was wailing through the city. Here we stood, American, Christian pastors, experiencing the worship of God, now in two foreign languages, and the mix of that beautiful, nasal Arabic cry along with the hushed and shouted Hebrew prayers is a sound I will not soon forget. I can only imagine it pleases God's ears as well.
As we made our way back through the city, to the Notre Dame Center, our home for the week, as we attempted to enter one of the narrow intersections our progress was completely halted by the mass of Muslim pilgrims heeding the call of prayer, and making their way to the Temple mount, which contains the Al Aksa mosque and the Dome of the Rock (the spectacular gold-domed shrine which is the visual centerpiece of the old city of Jerusalem). It was like a stampede – the beginning of the holy month of Ramadan – so there was no way to cross that mass of bodies. We waited. The Jews behind us. The Muslims in front of us. Leading us all to pray...
Speaking of this experience later that evening, one of my colleagues mused in amazement that there is no more violence here, given the close proximity of these conflicting children of Abraham and their religious holy sites. Our Wake Forest Divinity School leader, however, reminded us that since the Muslim conquest of Jerusalem, 1400 years ago, the Jews and the Muslims have gotten along amazingly well. Sharing this city. Sharing these holy streets. Virtually sharing the sacred ground on which their faiths call them to pray. There's a sermon in that. You'll probably hear it soon!
I’ve done my own share of praying this week, remembering you... remembering Jesus... reflecting on my life as his follower and your pastor, and as a parent of two and a husband of one and a joy-filled (if sometimes still confused!) wanna-be-disciple. But I'll have to tell you that it's not the Christian pilgrims to this city that have inspired me the most this week – though we've also encountered thousands of Christian pilgrims from around the world. Ironically (and when we open our eyes to God's amazing presence around us, "irony" may become a more and more frequent encounter for us!), I'll leave the Holy Land in 10 hours with the inspiration of Muslim and Jewish followers, leaving their busy lives, herding through crowded city streets, singing and dancing and praying quietly, in that discipline that is as old as human self-consciousness. Among the many things I have learned on this trip... I think I'll come home a better pray-er.
And maybe that's what this pilgrimage was supposed to do for me – even if I learned it in a very surprising way!
Saturday, April 9, 2011
More on Obama's Libya Campaign
This is the dialogue from my Facebook page that followed my article on Obama and a new military offensive in Libya:
Russ: So, my latest newsletter article (that I'm posting on the church blog) drew some praise, and more than a touch of ire! No great surprise, when you bring politics and theology together. (But what choice do we have? Read the Bible lately!?) I'm glad to post your response if you're intrested... http://amy-russ.blogspot.com/
Don Polaski: Beyond expressing disappointment, what does this piece *do* actually.
Russ Dean: I don't know that this piece "does" anything -- any more than any sermon (or lecture for that matter!) -- unless it changes someone's mind, open's someone's view, inspire's someone's heart... that's all words can do. From Don Flowers (in re...sponse to the article): "This is one of those times when I am grateful that I am not the president. I cannot imagine the moral quandary of deciding when and when not to intervene… But that isn't your job. Your calling is to raise the religious/theological question -- and you did it well. But know that prophets are without honor in their hometown, and often get thrown off cliffs, or worse!" Those of us who traffic in words for a profession can only hope the people who hear them will end up being the "doing" of our own words.
Don Polaski: I still think you're being really vague -- what then should we do, beyond adopting a pose of a world-weary superiority?
Russ Dean: I'm not intentionally being dense, Don (that's just a natural state)... help me with this. What are you suggesting I might have said that was more "doing" oriented?
Don Polaski: I think when we write we implicitly or explicitly do so for a reason, and well-crafted writing will move an audience in some way (even if that audience is us and the writing is an attempt to bring us some clarity). In my view, this piece (...unlike other stuff you've written) just sort of lies there -- I see the disappointment, but I don't sense productive grappling that might lead the way out of disappointment to somewhere. Right now the "somewhere" is a vague notion (and WB is vague as well) of an alternative consciousness and (pace Don Flowers) I think you have come back around and say explicitly that weapons, etc, are not the solution to Libya, but rather something else is. At some point you have to take on the responsibility of fleshing out what that consciousness looks like and how it relates to world we live in. That's where your work here is heading -- you might was well say so.
Shosha A Capps: This is beautiful and brave, Russ. It does everything it should.
Russ Dean: Thanks, Shosha... great to hear from you. As you might expect, I've had mixed response. But at least I've made a few people think! Hope you're well...
Jeff Rogers: If I focus on the first four paragraphs, I am left with the impression of the world-weariness of Russ's perpetual Groundhog Day experience (Is it 2003 or 2011? I'm old enough to add 1988 and the Reagan air attack in retaliation for the 1986... bombing of a discotheque in Berlin, which in turn resulted in Libya's retaliation by downing of Pan Am 103. What year is it? What difference has it all made?). However, if I focus on the last two paragraphs, I hear a call to formulate a counterscript to the prevailing narrative of U.S. military intervention as the solution to everything that ails the world, especially in the predominantly Arab portion of it. I hear Don P. saying, "Don't just call for a counterscript, write it!" Russ wrote heart&soul; Don wants him to write hands&feet: what the alternative actually looks like in a world of Gaddafis and Saddams and Ahmadinejads and bin Ladins--and Reagans and Bushes and Obamas--and us, us, us, because we are as complicitous in this as they are. While I do understand the arguments of each and why they are compelling to their adherents, neither the impulse toward "Bombs away!" on the one hand nor to toward all joining hands and singing, "Give peace a chance," on the other hand moves me. That's the hardest part to write, I think, not because it's "in the middle" but precisely because it must be predicated on an entirely different rationale than either the typical pro-military or predictable anti-military responses.
Craig Zello: I loved the last newsletter! It was my 2nd favorite ever (any guesses on my favorite?).
I owe so much to my time spent in the Army. It paid for my college which landed me a good job. That has taken around the world. All thanks to 4 years in ...the Army. I was in during the 1st Gulf War and came very close to going. Recently, I have questioned if we should have been involved then. I don’t know. I’m not saying we should be isolationists, but why are we doing what we are? What are the true motivations. I still believe in supporting our soldiers in a conflict. But, am tired of the same bad decision being made! I’m gaining more apathy toward politicians. Keep up tackling tough topics like this!
Russ Dean: Thanks for this, Craig. I've had some interesting comments. Most positive, but not all. I know that politics and theology and military are all difficult subjects, and I threw then all in together. I'm grateful for your military service, and stand with you that we should suport our troops. I can do so, even standing as I do against many of the missions they're called to serve... Thanks for the comments.
Chris Ayers: Great piece Russ!
Kathy Capps: What we do is to change our life, step by step, to be less dependent on Arab oil and to harass our representatives even when it feels so futile on a regular basis, letting them know that we do not support these unending wars. What we do is support with our finances things like Mercy Corps and Three Cups of Tea building schools for Muslim girls. What we do is pray and change our little piece of the world into a place of grace in as many ways as we are able to. What we do... is whatever we can to bring about peace.
Russ: So, my latest newsletter article (that I'm posting on the church blog) drew some praise, and more than a touch of ire! No great surprise, when you bring politics and theology together. (But what choice do we have? Read the Bible lately!?) I'm glad to post your response if you're intrested... http://amy-russ.blogspot.com/
Don Polaski: Beyond expressing disappointment, what does this piece *do* actually.
Russ Dean: I don't know that this piece "does" anything -- any more than any sermon (or lecture for that matter!) -- unless it changes someone's mind, open's someone's view, inspire's someone's heart... that's all words can do. From Don Flowers (in re...sponse to the article): "This is one of those times when I am grateful that I am not the president. I cannot imagine the moral quandary of deciding when and when not to intervene… But that isn't your job. Your calling is to raise the religious/theological question -- and you did it well. But know that prophets are without honor in their hometown, and often get thrown off cliffs, or worse!" Those of us who traffic in words for a profession can only hope the people who hear them will end up being the "doing" of our own words.
Don Polaski: I still think you're being really vague -- what then should we do, beyond adopting a pose of a world-weary superiority?
Russ Dean: I'm not intentionally being dense, Don (that's just a natural state)... help me with this. What are you suggesting I might have said that was more "doing" oriented?
Don Polaski: I think when we write we implicitly or explicitly do so for a reason, and well-crafted writing will move an audience in some way (even if that audience is us and the writing is an attempt to bring us some clarity). In my view, this piece (...unlike other stuff you've written) just sort of lies there -- I see the disappointment, but I don't sense productive grappling that might lead the way out of disappointment to somewhere. Right now the "somewhere" is a vague notion (and WB is vague as well) of an alternative consciousness and (pace Don Flowers) I think you have come back around and say explicitly that weapons, etc, are not the solution to Libya, but rather something else is. At some point you have to take on the responsibility of fleshing out what that consciousness looks like and how it relates to world we live in. That's where your work here is heading -- you might was well say so.
Shosha A Capps: This is beautiful and brave, Russ. It does everything it should.
Russ Dean: Thanks, Shosha... great to hear from you. As you might expect, I've had mixed response. But at least I've made a few people think! Hope you're well...
Jeff Rogers: If I focus on the first four paragraphs, I am left with the impression of the world-weariness of Russ's perpetual Groundhog Day experience (Is it 2003 or 2011? I'm old enough to add 1988 and the Reagan air attack in retaliation for the 1986... bombing of a discotheque in Berlin, which in turn resulted in Libya's retaliation by downing of Pan Am 103. What year is it? What difference has it all made?). However, if I focus on the last two paragraphs, I hear a call to formulate a counterscript to the prevailing narrative of U.S. military intervention as the solution to everything that ails the world, especially in the predominantly Arab portion of it. I hear Don P. saying, "Don't just call for a counterscript, write it!" Russ wrote heart&soul; Don wants him to write hands&feet: what the alternative actually looks like in a world of Gaddafis and Saddams and Ahmadinejads and bin Ladins--and Reagans and Bushes and Obamas--and us, us, us, because we are as complicitous in this as they are. While I do understand the arguments of each and why they are compelling to their adherents, neither the impulse toward "Bombs away!" on the one hand nor to toward all joining hands and singing, "Give peace a chance," on the other hand moves me. That's the hardest part to write, I think, not because it's "in the middle" but precisely because it must be predicated on an entirely different rationale than either the typical pro-military or predictable anti-military responses.
Craig Zello: I loved the last newsletter! It was my 2nd favorite ever (any guesses on my favorite?).
I owe so much to my time spent in the Army. It paid for my college which landed me a good job. That has taken around the world. All thanks to 4 years in ...the Army. I was in during the 1st Gulf War and came very close to going. Recently, I have questioned if we should have been involved then. I don’t know. I’m not saying we should be isolationists, but why are we doing what we are? What are the true motivations. I still believe in supporting our soldiers in a conflict. But, am tired of the same bad decision being made! I’m gaining more apathy toward politicians. Keep up tackling tough topics like this!
Russ Dean: Thanks for this, Craig. I've had some interesting comments. Most positive, but not all. I know that politics and theology and military are all difficult subjects, and I threw then all in together. I'm grateful for your military service, and stand with you that we should suport our troops. I can do so, even standing as I do against many of the missions they're called to serve... Thanks for the comments.
Chris Ayers: Great piece Russ!
Kathy Capps: What we do is to change our life, step by step, to be less dependent on Arab oil and to harass our representatives even when it feels so futile on a regular basis, letting them know that we do not support these unending wars. What we do is support with our finances things like Mercy Corps and Three Cups of Tea building schools for Muslim girls. What we do is pray and change our little piece of the world into a place of grace in as many ways as we are able to. What we do... is whatever we can to bring about peace.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Sharing a Little Poetry
I've asked several folks in the church to help me to share poetry. This one comes to me from Ron Pelt. I love the phrase "a stretcher will come from grace to gather us up." Sometimes I need just that. Thanks for sharing, Ron...
r
Zero Circle,
by Rumi
Be helpless, dumbfounded,
Unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come from grace
to gather us up.
We are too dull-eyed to see that beauty.
If we say we can, we’re lying.
If we say No, we don’t see it,
That No will behead us
And shut tight our window onto spirit.
So let us rather not be sure of anything,
Beside ourselves, and only that, so
Miraculous beings come running to help.
Crazed, lying in a zero circle, mute,
We shall be saying finally,
With tremendous eloquence, Lead Us.
When we have totally surrendered to that beauty,
We shall be a mighty kindness.
r
Zero Circle,
by Rumi
Be helpless, dumbfounded,
Unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come from grace
to gather us up.
We are too dull-eyed to see that beauty.
If we say we can, we’re lying.
If we say No, we don’t see it,
That No will behead us
And shut tight our window onto spirit.
So let us rather not be sure of anything,
Beside ourselves, and only that, so
Miraculous beings come running to help.
Crazed, lying in a zero circle, mute,
We shall be saying finally,
With tremendous eloquence, Lead Us.
When we have totally surrendered to that beauty,
We shall be a mighty kindness.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Seeing that New Day
I had as much comment from my last blog as anything in a long time. I'm in the process of gathering all the responses, from email and facebook, and will post them. The dialogue has been very interesting.
Today someone sent me a copy of this prayer -- I'm told Romero prayed it just moments before he was assassinated. He speaks to the future vision that my last blog accused the President of not having. Nor should I expect this to come from the President -- but I believe the Church must keep demanding it.
Praying with Romero, and all the other prophets among us... alive and dead.
Archbishop Oscar Romero Prayer
It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.
Amen.
r
Today someone sent me a copy of this prayer -- I'm told Romero prayed it just moments before he was assassinated. He speaks to the future vision that my last blog accused the President of not having. Nor should I expect this to come from the President -- but I believe the Church must keep demanding it.
Praying with Romero, and all the other prophets among us... alive and dead.
Archbishop Oscar Romero Prayer
It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.
Amen.
r
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