Grace 2.0

In Galatians 3:23-25, Paul writes:

23 Before faith came, we were guarded under the Law, locked up until faith that was coming would be revealed, 24 so that the Law became our [nanny] until Christ so that we might be made righteous by faith. 25 But now that faith has come, we are no longer under a [nanny].

Note that I am using the word "nanny" instead of the Common English Bible's word, "custodian," because it is a better translation for the Greek word, παιδαγωγὸς.  This is the word from which we get "pedagogy" in English, and in this form, would have meant the "nanny" in that day who raised a child in the home of wealthier families, baby-sitting the child, caring for the child's every needs, protecting the child, and even teaching the child to walk and develop language skills. The nanny would have "coached" the child's development, augmenting its more formal schooling later in life, until such time as the child grew mature and no longer in need of the nanny. It would have been a difficult and emotional experience for the child, the family, and for the nanny, when their services were no longer needed, and therefore terminated.

So it is in the church today with the "law." Paul is telling the young church that in and through the grace of Jesus Christ, we are all now "mature" in our faith, saved and schooled in righteousness by the one who was the perfect righteousness of God. Christ imparts this righteousness to us, and then continues through his teaching and example to become the kind of believers and disciples who will make wise decisions, clearly hear God's call in the everyday, and build bridges of love, forgiveness, and acceptance to all people, in the manner of Jesus, himself. We no longer need the law to protect and "nanny" us. The Holy Spirit now guides us, and the Spirit's direction is toward building the inclusive realm of God. The "law" now is love--conducting ourselves in such a way as mature, righteous Christians that we don't harm others, don't "think of ourselves more highly than we ought," and respect others for who they are, not judging them ourselves, but letting the Spirit of Jesus do the perfecting. Grace 2.0 is here to stay, and her work is widening and growing deeper, as many more of God's children discover and experience the prevenient, justifying, and sanctifying nature of her work.

Grace 2.0 appears in Galatians 3:28:

28 There is neither Jew nor Greek; there is neither slave nor free; nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.   

Ancient barriers between persons have been demolished. And Paul may not have realized how prophetic he was being when he said "nor is there male and female." Gender doesn't make a bit of difference in the Realm of God, and it is not a stretch to suggest that this means a person's sexual orientation doesn't matter, either, for we are all one in Christ Jesus. Grace 2.0 makes Neil Armstrong's "giant leap" look like a baby step, by comparison! Even in our day, God continues to do a new thing. The Christian faith we profess is dynamic, able to meet the challenge and the change of our day. Even the Bible experiences this dynamism:

God’s word is living, active, and sharper than any two-edged sword. It penetrates to the point that it separates the soul from the spirit and the joints from the marrow. It’s able to judge the heart’s thoughts and intentions. (Hebrews 4:12, CEB)

"God's word is living, active...able to judge the heart's thoughts and intentions." It is not a list of laws and rules, other than the ones necessary for us to live together in harmony, to learn how to love one another (and this means "respect and accept" in the Grace 2.0 context), and to figure out how to "learn war no more," in the words of the prophet.

Friends, it was not easy in Paul's day to give up the "nanny" when her or his services were no longer needed. But they were no longer needed because the "child" had matured into an adult who could now think for him or herself, was confident enough in their own abilities and "skin" that they no longer felt compelled to intrude on the space of another individual, but could accept and respect that person for who they were as well.

We no longer need the "nanny" of the law, as we are under Grace 2.0, lavished upon us all by God in Jesus Christ, and empowered by the Holy Spirit. This is the NEW orthodoxy, and it is one of maturity, affirmation--from God to us and from us toward others--and one that moves us toward a true "beloved community" in Christ. It is also an "orthodoxy" that does not "exclusivize" this action to Christians alone, as Paul would also say:

16 So then, from this point on we won’t recognize people by human standards. Even though we used to know Christ by human standards, that isn’t how we know him now. 17 So then, if anyone is in Christ, that person is part of the new creation. The old things have gone away, and look, new things have arrived!

18 All of these new things are from God, who reconciled us to God-self through Christ and who gave us the ministry of reconciliation. 19 In other words, God was reconciling the world to himself through Christ, by not counting people’s sins against them. He has trusted us with this message of reconciliation. (II Corinthians 5:16-19, CEB)

Grace 2.0 is God's action, not ours, and God is ultimately in charge of it. We cannot even dictate just how "God is reconciling the world through Christ," and upon whom this reconciliation may be falling--possibly even in the context of other God-seeking faiths!

Why can't we just rejoice in this wonderful "ministry of reconciliation," instead of running back to the "nanny" of the law and using it to exclude and do harm to the very people Christ came to include and heal? The Gospel is good news! If we're not careful, we will turn it into "good news for some, only."

I don't have much time left in my "active" ministry years (I'll always be in ministry!), but I'm going to use this time to fully preach, teach, and spread Grace 2.0. This is the discipleship that will "transform the world." Join me!

What good thing can come out of Grove City?

Annual Conference is over for another year. From some of us, who were quite, QUITE disappointed in its outcome, we're just thinking it's over...period. Like so many of the things some are touting as "doctrines," "covenants," and "rules," Annual Conference may be the last dinosaur standing, and it's wobbling severely. I am reminded of the Henny Youngman joke: "Hey doctor, it hurts when I do this!" to which the doctor replies, "Then don't DO that!" In short, regarding Annual Conference, it hurts when we DO this...

Was there anything good to come out of Annual Conference at Grove City College this year? Let me try to name a few things:

1. The platform was decorated and lighted nicely (although I still like the corner/wedge-shaped arrangement better than the long "troop carrier" formation).
2. The Oakland UMC praise band led us in some "golden moldy" praise songs that this "traditional worship" pastor likes and could actually sing (yes, I'm one of those old dudes who eschews much modern praise songs as either reeking with "Jesus is my boyfriend" theology, or that are just plain unsingable). Other varieties of music were good, too, and having served Coraopolis UMC for six years, I am partial to their choirs' music offerings during the Ministry Night.
3. James Cogman, an African American seminary student (and whose twin brother just became an associate pastor at the church my daughter is on the staff of in Louisville, KY) gave a powerful sermon the evening after the Wesleyan Covenant Association "swept the Emmies" and hijacked our 2020 General Conference delegation. (Yes, they were voted in, but the fear-tactics used--especially on the laity--were, shall we say, "effective.")
4. The Broader Table Coalition made its debut. The goal of the Broader Table Coalition was to advance a slate of delegates to General Conference that would be representative of the progressive, centrist, and traditionalist views of the pastors, churches, and congregations present in the Western Pennsylvania Conference. While the goal was not realized, at least the fairness of it has been surfaced, and a seed planted.
5. The "Open Table" Holy Communion sessions held this year in the quad between HAL and the Breen Student Union buildings grew immensely, with over 100 participants on Friday. These Communion services, sponsored by the Western PA Reconciling Ministries Network, are open to all, and this year many new participants joined us, lay and clergy. (Oh, and Campus Security required us to move to the quad because of threats that had been made against Reconciling Ministries. Annual Conference is a Christian gathering, right?)
6. The body voted to send a dissolution resolution to the 2020 General Conference with an eye toward dismantling the denomination and building new "branches" of a church from the ground up. This legislation, if adopted by the General Conference, would ask the Connectional Table to return to the 2024 General Conference with detailed plans for said dissolution and how a newly structured, multi-branched church might look. (I list this as something "good," as it is becoming more clear that progressives and centrists are not welcomed by the WCA in "their church," so we must close what is currently the UMC, divide the spoils, and move on.
7. The Drum Circle from the Healthy Village Learning Institute was awesome. I hope we can get them to St. Paul's sometime soon.
8. No one died in section meetings, despite the fact that two of the sections had to meet long, extra hours, testing section members' will to live.
9. Only one of the "reports" given regarding the "Five Areas of Focus" lasted long enough that I almost lost the will to live. Most were short, sweet, and to the point, and at least one, on Developing Principled Leadership, was highly creative and entertaining, so much so that it almost fell prey to the"good TV commercial" foible of forgetting what product it was advertising.
10. While it is always a highlight seeing the teen pages and Youth Ministry Team, I was thrilled to see so many gifted young leaders among our clergy emerging, and that many of them are picking up the centrist-to-progressive banner that some of us "old" folk are getting ready to pass along. We need your energy and profound gifts here!
11. Conference Sessions always does their best to work with scarce resources to provide as pleasant an experience for clergy and lay delegates as possible. This year was no exception.
12. Even with all of its warts--and there were some real tumors this year--Annual Conference is still a great time to renew contact with others, especially among clergy, many of whom have been serving together for decades.

I'll not digress into the myriad serious problems I had with this meeting of the Annual Conference, beyond those already alluded to above. However, I do have a few questions:

• What happened to the commuter parking area? It was jammed when we arrived on Thursday, and seemed to be filled all during the week, forcing us to park near Punxsutawney, I think. Does this area need enlarged? Or should commuters to AC get a dash sign to display in order to enforce the commuter lot as a commuter lot?
• Our Bishop announced toward the end of the conference that she, too, had been ministering under "credible threats" to her safety, as reported by the FBI. I thought this was supposed to be a Christian gathering? What the hell is going on?
• If I were a member of one of the sections that had to meet all those extra hours, I would ask for a partial refund of the $100 registration fee as hazard pay. What do we have to do to move section business along so this kind of thing doesn't happen? (By the way, we are always looking for new laity and clergy section leaders to train and deploy. See Rev. Greg Spencer or our Conference Secretary, John Wilson to put your name on the "invite" list for next year.)
• Why are our worship services so long? I understand when our Bishop is offering her "State of the Church" address, or  when we have a guest speaker, but then we should buffer the rest of the service accordingly. We wound up canceling important things on Saturday and rushing through the remaining business of AC, and still didn't adjourn until around 7:00PM, without dinner.
• Here's a bigger issue for me, though: Now that voting is done electronically (providing a readout of how many persons are voting), when we did the balloting for General Conference delegates, there were about 360 clergy voting, and about 640 laity. Aren't we supposed to be a balanced assembly? In our "lay equalization" rules, no adjustment is made for the number of clergy--many of whom are retired or serving in extension ministry across the country--who don't attend Annual Conference. However, every one of these clergy "positions" gets a lay equalization delegate to "balance" it. This system is not working, when the split between clergy and laity is 360 to 640. (And yes, I realize that some persons serving in a clergy role are ineligible to vote for General Conference delegates, but I don't think this factor is responsible for the lopsidedness.) 

I have to say that, given the outcome of the Special Called Session of the General Conference in February, this was the first Annual Conference in my 34 years in ministry that I was not looking forward to attending. I was not disappointed. I also found myself avoiding conversation with certain people for fear of what I might say. Yeah, I know--aren't I supposed to be a Christian? Well, just slap one of those "Be patient, God isn't finished with me yet" bumper stickers on my noggin and say a prayer for me. I'll say one for you, too. Shalom, Yinz...

A Defining Moment...

How we define things pretty much sets the parameters as to how we view that which we define, how we will treat it, and how we will relate to it. Some examples:

I relate to one named "Dara" differently because she is defined as my partner in life, the mother of our children, and my best friend. I treat her like no other human with whom I relate, because of this specific definition. She is also a practicing Christian (and she's really GOOD at it!), and therefore I also treat her like a sibling in Jesus Christ. It gets complicated, because she is also a member of the church I serve, so technically, I am also her pastor, but the earlier definition severely clouds how I can relate to her as "pastor." I am able to teach her in a Bible Study, but if she needs to talk to a pastor about deep, personal issues (especially if any of them involves her husband), she would be better served by meeting with my colleague. (If we were serving in a solo appointment, she would have to seek out another counselor, though.)

Racism results when a person defines someone as another race as not just different, but inferior in some way, or as being a source of fear or anxiety. While irrational, unethical, and inhuman, racism demonstrates the power of definition, when we are the ones doing the defining.

Sexual harassment (or worse) may result when a person defines another as "object." It may manifest itself out of an affectation one develops for another, or out of a sense of dominance or entitlement, but the result is always a type of violence against the unsuspecting other. Ultimately, it stems from a perceived position of power one has over another.

We really struggle when our definitions vary greatly from the "norm." I define all snakes as dangerous, threatening, and repulsive, while a herpetologist would see things quite differently. In terms of the societal "norms," snakes have their place, and should stay in it, but the wider view is that they serve an important function in the animal kingdom. But the defining power of the individual is pretty strong: I hate snakes, even though I am intellectually fully aware of their value to the planet.

So, what is my point here? Well, there are two of them, actually. I believe that an important role of religion and spirituality is to help us with our definitions. Where they are so narrow as to cause us to shut out other people from our world, even to the point of anger or violence, our faith may use biblical values or teachings to assuage our fear of "the other" and alter our definition of them so as to form healthy relationships with them. Our religious teachings and values may also help us to enhance our definition of "spouse," "parent," "child," or "neighbor," thus altering our behaviors and our thoughts, with an aim toward deepening our appreciation of these persons and their roles, as well as adding compassion and empathy to our roles. Our religion goes afoul when it feeds our hurtful, divisive definitions of "the other." Jesus taught and modeled much broader definitions of "the other" while he was among us, and challenged us to "sacrifice" our flawed, harmful definitions, for the good of the Realm of God, and the human community. Perhaps only the cross is able to heal us and take away our "right" to define "the other," and to cleanse us from using the power to define to marginalize those not like us?

Let me go one step further. We get to define God. The writers of the Bible did this, from their own context and history, and in recording what they saw, heard, and experienced, they colored our view of the divine. That we believe the Bible is a "living book," and "God-breathed," its view of the divine is subject to review and re-definition. Our context is quite different from that of two-millennia ago, when the last verses were penned, and the faith communities described in the Hebrew Bible, the New Testament, and the Quran, for that matter, have grown, changed, and adapted. It is impossible to "take the texts literally" in light of these facts. Hence, we are not only free to redefine how we understand a given scripture, but we must if we are to be true to what its purpose is in offering us guidance. Likewise, we must redefine God, from age to age. If we understand God to be the divine creator, parent to us all, like any parent whose role must change as "the kids" grow and mature, we must understand God differently. And as the divine, God "grows," in this sense, able to meet the needs and offer compassion to a larger, more diverse "family." Only harmful family systems are perpetuated if we parent only the way we were parented, keeping our minds closed to new information, and new ways to define the challenges we face.

Moses redefined God, argued with God, and won. The prophets redefined God in each era of Israel. Jesus redefined much of what we "knew" of the divine, and represented a God who related with God's people based on love rather than law. Then, the Gospels redefined Jesus! Paul pretty much wrote the definition of what the church would look like. Tillich redefined God as the ground of being, itself. Barth redefined God as The Word. Process Theology redefined God as being wholly present in all the structures and "occasions" of existence, from the atomic to the cosmic. Liberation Theology redefined God as aligned with the poor and the oppressed, and opposed to the power elites that oppress. Millennials are redefining God apart from doctrine, and forging deep relationships with the divine and without the church, in many cases. Have you ever thought that when the writer of Hebrews wrote, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever," she was not saying Jesus is the "same," but that Christ is able to be redefined in each era in such a way that redemption, reconciliation, and a life-changing relationship with the divine are offered to each generation in a way they can grasp it?

And did you ever think that when Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these" that he may not have been talking about just the "little children," chronologically? We are living in an age when many new definitions of life and faith are being written. If God is the God we profess to believe in, God is up to the task, and encouraged these acts of redefining, as we reinterpret scripture, love others according to the teachings of Jesus, and know that we have no right to be "right," if it denies anyone full access to the divine.

But I still hate snakes...

When ALL truly means ALL...

                                      

We are now flying a "rainbow" flag outside of the entrance to our church. While recognized as a universal sign of welcome to our LGBTQIA+ siblings, it is clearly serving as a welcome to more than just them. Since the LGBTQIA+ community is currently "front and center" as a marginalized group, especially among United Methodists, other persons who find themselves oppressed in some way (i.e. race, national origin, religion, gender, economic or legal status) see a symbol of welcome like this one and know they, too, are welcome here. The colors on this flag may represent many who might question whether they are welcome. Flying them in front of our entrance answers their question: "Yes, you are!"

While our church is a broad-based community of faith, meaning we have persons of all political and possibly even theological spectra represented in our congregation, I submit that this flag is in no way rebuffing the welcome we have extended to them, perpetually. Some who are “right of center” have suggested that by fully welcoming members of the LGBTQIA+ community, we have marginalized their views. I am unconvinced. Unfortunately, this is the argument being used by the Wesleyan Covenant Association and the makers of the Traditionalist Plan in the United Methodist Church--"If you welcome ‘them,’ then we are leaving." A similar sentiment spurred the Jim Crow laws in the South several decades ago--"We don't want ‘them’ here.” Powers that be in the United Methodist Church have taken to legislating their prejudices, attempting to disallow the kind of inclusion Methodism has been known for almost since its inception, or at least since Mr. Wesley wrote his famous sermon, "On a Catholic Spirit." Rodney King may have been right--"Why can't we all just get along?"

Our rainbow welcome flag is displayed in our evolving "Peace Garden." In the photo, you will see the sign on the right that displays the logo designed by a Pittsburgh artist as a peace offering after the devastating killings at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Squirrel Hill here. To the left, is our Peace Pole, an international symbol of peace, with the prayer for peace, "May Peace Prevail On Earth," rendered on each side in a different language. We chose English, Greek (for the New Testament), Hebrew (for the Hebrew Bible, and to honor our interfaith relationship we have with the local Jewish community, and Arabic (to honor our interfaith relationship with the local Muslim community). The Peace Pole is registered with the International Peace Pole movement, and its presence reminds these partner communities of faith that they, too, are welcome here.

I have clergy colleagues who disparage our commitment to interfaith solidarity and cooperation, suggesting that Christianity is an "exclusive" faith, and that it can't work beside these others because its message supersedes their messages of Torah and Quran. (You might notice the parallelism between this view and the theology that seeks to exclude LGBTQIA+ persons from the church because of an "exclusive" interpretation of scripture.) We resist and rebuke this exclusivism, even as Mr. Wesley, himself, would have. We seek to offer "our hand" in fellowship to all.

Here's why. The scriptures tell us that "God is in Christ, reconciling the world to God-self." This is God's action, not ours. As Christians, we are witnesses in this work, but not the drivers, and not the "reconciliation police." God is reconciling the world as God will, and we should not judge, based on a very narrow theological view, of what it means that this is happening "in Christ." As the scriptures also tell us, "God's ways are not our ways." If God seeks to reconcile the world, which I think means all people, who am I--or you--to close the gates or build walls to keep some out because of who they are or because their journey hasn't taken them to exactly the same places as ours has? I think Gamaliel, Paul's teacher, said it best in the Book of Acts: "If it is of human origin, it will die on its own, if it is of God, nothing will stop it."

By opening our doors to welcome all who wish to come, to work with us cooperatively in the case of our interfaith partners, or to attend our church and hear our message, in the case of worshipers, we're allowing the Holy Spirit to do her work in our midst. We're not giving a theology test as an entrance exam. In the words of Mr. Wesley himself:

O [person] of God, think on these things! If you are already in this way, go on. If you have missed this path before now, bless God who has brought you back! And now run the race that is set before you, in the royal way of universal love. Take heed, lest you be either wavering in your judgment, or faint of heart. But keep an even pace, rooted in the faith once delivered to the saints, and grounded in love, in true catholic love, till you are swallowed up in love for ever and ever! --"On a Catholic Spirit," Sermon #34

When Love isn't Enough...

"Can't we just love everybody?" This is a question I have heard countless times throughout my 34 years in ministry. Would you be surprised to learn that the question is most frequently used to "defuse" a tense situation, or to stop short an important discussion about someone who has been either dismissed, disrespected, or excluded? It's a valid question for church members, people of faith (virtually any faith, for all faith traditions tend to have "love" as a central aim) to ask, but it is too often disingenuously asked. One way this happens is when the person asking it is seeking to stop the pain they are feeling over being challenged by someone else who is protesting his or her own disenfranchisement by others, or an organization of others, such as a church.

A similar protest has been lodged, from time to time, against our congregation's "welcome statement," which, in the midst of its welcoming verbiage, spells out various marginalized persons or groups which may typically be excluded from the "church community." "Can't we just say we welcome ALL?" persons have asked. My answer is usually to ask this inquirer a question in response:  "Have you driven by many local churches whose signs say, 'All are welcome'?" In virtually every case, they answer in the affirmative, to which I ask two followup questions: "Do you KNOW that church? Are 'ALL' really welcome there?" Again, in virtually every case, the answer this time is in the negative. Hopefully this little exercise helps the questioning individual realize why our "welcome statement" spells out specific groups, some of which would most definitely not be welcome in a majority of those "All are Welcome" churches.

So, you see why "Can't we just love everybody?" is not an adequate response to some of the exclusionary issues facing the contemporary church, and most specifically at this time, the United Methodist Church? While the statement certainly sounds "Christian" enough, it glosses over and stops short of addressing persons who are not feeling very loved right now in this denomination. Recently, Keith Boyette, President of the Wesleyan Covenant Association (a splinter group of United Methodists who helped create and then backed the "Traditional Plan" that excludes LGBTQIA+ persons from marrying or from being ordained to ministry) wrote an apologetic piece about how that Association "loves everybody," including LGBTQIA+ persons. One had to read the "fine print," though to understand that they are "loved" only to the degree that they let Jesus "fix" them from their "sin" of being different, and as long as they eschew their "lifestyle." Not exactly a good way to make friends and influence people, I might say. I hazard to think how my marriage covenant would be holding up if I had decided to add a bunch of extra "rules" and conditions for Dara to maintain if she wanted to continue to be loved by me. I might even be dead by now.

Jesus did some stuff to demonstrate his understanding of love: healed the sick and the lame; ate with "tax collectors and sinners;" hung out with the outcasts (lepers, women, and Samaritans, to name a few); railed against the religious leaders who "strained out gnats and swallowed camels;" oh, and suffered and died on the cross in a final redemptive act, for all of humanity. I don't seem to remember him spelling out the names of the groups or persons he wasn't dying for, nor do I remember him shouting a bunch of conditions to be met in order to deserve his forgiveness and love. In fact, I believe he told a thief--whom we often call the "penitent thief"--that he would join him in paradise. The Bible doesn't seem to say anything about this "good thief" actually repenting, though, to receive this promise from Jesus. He just asks for it, and Jesus says, "OK."

So, might not our "Can't we just love everybody?" fall short of the actual Gospel version of loving others according to the teachings of Jesus? If we spend more time defining what "self-avowed homosexual" means than accepting and loving LGBTQIA+ individuals as redeemed children of God, might we be guilty of the very form of "empty love" Jesus condemned in the religious leaders of his day?

I don't want to be a part of a church that makes some of its members into "second-class citizens," and I don't believe the Bible endorses this either. If your definition of "biblical authority" isn't centered in the kind of love Jesus taught and practiced, then it has lost its power, and has turned the Bible into a rulebook. The world has enough of those. What part of "For freedom Christ has set us free" doesn't this church get? "God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, of love, and of a sound mind." The author of II Timothy got it right. Maybe some of these "biblical authority" mavens should read a little further? When Jesus rebuked the disciples, "Let the little children come!", do you think he was just talking about "little children"? The mature Christian realizes this is a very, very wide invitation, friends. I, for one, will do all within my power to let them come. Better yet, to welcome them home. Shalom.

Rainy Days...

It's raining. No, I'm not talking metaphorically about the current state of American politics, nor am I sounding an alarm about any upcoming disaster, either. It is literally raining outside. Wish it were an "April shower"--you know, the kind that brings "May flowers." It's more of a deluge, currently, but it's water, it's coming from the sky, and I'm guessing that eventually it will find its way into the soil where it will make stuff grow. The grass here at the church is surging, and our mower guy, who typically mows on Friday afternoons, will not be happy that it appears to be a soaking, all-day rain.

I like rainy days. I like driving in the rain, walking in the rain (with a decent umbrella, and with a certain incredible lady by my side), and even sitting at the ballpark waiting for a rain-delayed game to begin. As one of about six people who actually liked Three Rivers Stadium, I remember going to a night game with my family on a rainy evening, watching the "Zambonis" sucking the water up off the Tartan Turf, and shooting it over the center field fence. My Dad was amazed at this, as the game would have definitely been a rain out at old Forbes Field, but this game against the San Francisco Giants got played, and Willie McCovey blasted a grand slam into the upper deck to win it for the West-coasters. Why did I like Three Rivers Stadium? I was a kid, and didn't know any better. Actually, it was a combination of its gargantuan size, the huge scoreboard (which, like Apollo 11, was the latest in 60s technology), and the fact that, unlike Forbes Field, rats didn't run over your feet at night games. I also liked to look up at the "elite" eating and watching the game in the spacious Allegheny Club, and hoping I would get to do that someday. Thanks to Mark Cottrill, a St. Paul's member back in the mid-1990s, I did actually get to do that once. (He had a great job at the higher echelons of the Henry Hillman Company, and those people had both an Allegheny Club membership and one of those "lounge boxes" at Three Rivers, a primitive forerunner of today's luxury boxes at PNC Park.)

Does this blog have a point? Probably not, other than to say that I don't find rainy days at all depressing. If you are one who does, my prayers are with you today. Rain reminds us that God does care for the planet, nourishing its "greening" process in what appears to me to be a miraculous cycle. Rain reminds me of the sprinkling waters of Christian baptism (officially called aspersion). If we pastors can flick water from the font onto a congregation with the words, "Remember your baptism and be thankful," I suppose I can walk in the rain and tell myself that, too. As I write this, the hard, wind-driven rain is hitting the windows of my office, making me thankful I have a warm, dry place to work, study, and write. I am reminded by the pelting rain, though, to pray for those for whom "warm" and "dry" are not as readily available.

I do like driving in the rain, but not today. I brought the Miata in to Allison Park, as it had to go in for inspection, an oil change, and a set of new tires. I try never to drive it in the rain, as it's 29 years old now, and keeping it out of the elements has well preserved its carcass for these many years, but since it had to be inspected by the end of April, here we are. Its convertible top leaks like a sieve by the driver's side window, so I will have to drive it home while sitting on about ten towels, or I'll be "remembering my baptism" by the seat of my pants. That little sports car likes to be "daring" on the turns in a good rain, too, doing something we used to call "fishtailing" at an alarming rate. And driving in the rain means driving with the headlights on (a PA requirement since January of 2007, people! If your wipers are on, so should be your headlights!). Unfortunately, with the "pop-up" headlights on the 1990 Miata, it looks pretty "bug-eyed," and not cool at all. These are the two main reasons for driving a Miata--because it's fun to drive, and to look cool. And at highway speeds, the popped-up headlights whistle. Not cool at all.

In a dry car, and if I ever get unscheduled time (retirement, maybe?), I have a strong desire just to "head out," kind of like Peter Pan: "Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning." Thankfully, I am partnered with someone who likes to do stuff like that, too. Rainy days are good days to just go somewhere. I guess my personal Christian spirituality has always worked that way, as well. When the going gets tough, as they say, I like to go somewhere, as opposed to hunkering down and brooding. Unfortunately, my Myers-Briggs type indicator (ENFP), combined with a mild case of adult ADHD, means I don't necessarily have an agenda or a specified destination. My partner is quite happy that I am now compelled to take the back roads rather than the Interstates, and that, too, has some interesting spiritual meanings, I'm sure.

So, what about you on this fine, rainy day? Are you an upper or a downer on such precipitous occasions? Do you only like to "make hay while the sun shines," or do you say, "Hey, it's raining, let's go somewhere?" Even if you enjoy just sitting and watching the rain outside the window, here's hoping that only Mondays get you down, and not rainy days! As Amos 5 famously says, "Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream."

There will be plenty of justice and righteousness, then, on my drive home this evening. (Gotta' figure out how to get that leak fixed)...a big, damp shalom to yinz.

A Little ROOM in the TOMB...

We now have a full-sized, garden tomb in our narthex. With special thanks to Boyd Dawson, our resident artist, and Robb Montgomery, our resident SFX guy, the tomb will serve as a giant object lesson for the services of Holy Week. Right now, she's closed up tighter than a drum, with the huge stone covering the entrance, a Roman Seal in place to assure no unauthorized visitors. But for the obvious biblical reasons considering the Easter story, how did we end up with a big, hunkin' tomb in the church?

It all started with these rings. For our "Relate" Lenten theme, we chose the interlaced series of purple rings (suspended above the chancel in the sanctuary, and in Wesley Hall, where we have our Saturday service) as a symbol of relationships. Upon mentioning the desire to have some kind of large, interlocking rings hanging over the choir, the aforementioned Robb, himself a theatrical set designer, came up with a way to make them, color them, and suspend them, with no danger to those under them, should gravity become a sudden problem. Something interesting will be happening to the rings for Easter, but that is another story. As our Leadership Team "brainstormed" ideas with circles to go along with the rings, Yours Truly mentioned the "garden tomb" idea of the place where Jesus may have been interred, complete with its wheel-like stone that could be rolled over the entrance. The round stone was a circle, I thought. A mention of this idea took flight with Boyd and Robb, and voila, we have a big tomb in the narthex. I'm guessing that when that stone is rolled away for Easter, Robb may have a surprise of some kind--possibly a neon "Vacancy"sign?

We don't normally have tombs around St. Paul's. Oh, we do have a columbarium, where the ashes of dear, departed church members reside, and that is a more meaningful thing than I can tell you. I find myself making more frequent trips than I would have ever imagined to the chapel where the columbarium is, just to ponder the names on the plates on each of the niches, remembering precious saints of this church, and offering a prayer of thanksgiving to God for their lives, now gone "online" eternally. I've been visiting it a lot more since Faith Geer is there. We all still miss her so.

But a huge garden tomb? Normally, I would think it "schmaltzy," but this week, as it sits with the stone in place, it has taken on new meaning for me. Sure it is a reminder of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ for us all, that which cements our relationship with God, and offers all the promise of eternal life. But it is more than that. Even as I stand before the niches in the columbarium, remembering those precious ones, so now I've spent more than a few moments before the sealed tomb, thinking about Jesus, and how his followers must have felt staring at that big, cold stone, and about the remains of an extraordinary life lying behind it, in the damp darkness. Pondering those lives whose remains are in our columbarium, I fantasize about what it will be like to see them again in heaven, and to joyously "catch up" on those relationships cut short by the sting of death. Now, standing before our garden tomb, I ponder what it will be like to greet Jesus in the same way. As I think I mentioned in an earlier blog, I have no interest in hugging him, or even a desire to ask him anything (I wouldn't manifest those behaviors if I met some contemporary luminary for whom I have great admiration, and Jesus is, well, GOD!) I would just like to join all the rest, sitting at Jesus' feet and listening to what he has to say. I love a good lecture, and I'm guessing that since his "Sermon on the Mount" made the "top ten" of all-time great lectures, he probably has a few more in him, and time will be on our side on the other side.

The danger of having this thing in the narthex is that people may just pass by and comment, rather than take time to stop, ponder, and pray. Jesus had that problem the first time around, too. In the words of Lamentations: Is it nothing to all you who pass by? His tomb, at least according to some, was in a thoroughfare where people just passed by, even as the cross itself was on Golgotha, a public place of execution. If there is one thing I have learned in my almost-65 years, it's that we miss too much if we just pass stuff by. 

I hope I have time to ponder at this ginormous tomb when the stone is rolled away on Easter. As a "grassroots" theologian, I understand the resurrection, and have preached Easter sermons for 33 years thus far, but I've never had a tomb in my church at which I could stop and just imagine, as John Lennon once said. Now I do, and given the difficulty they had getting this thing built and moved into here, I'm guessing it's not leaving too soon. I should have some time alone with the empty tomb, just like I did with the stone-sealed one. 

Friends, don't miss the wonder, the promise, and the love of Easter, even if you don't have a tomb as an icon upon which to meditate. This weekend, don't miss an opportunity to hear the glorious story again, the story of Jesus and his love, the story of the cross and the resurrection, and, of course, the waiting. Don't let your theology of redemption get in the way of your grasp of it, like a child holds tightly to a beloved blanket. And take some time this week to feel your redemption, and to feel how it is performing its magic of transforming you--the way you think, the way you live, and the way you love. While the cross may be a convenient symbol to wear around our necks or to display in the chancel, this Easter, the people of St. Paul's United Methodist Church have the real deal to gaze upon--a beautiful, life-sized garden tomb with a vacancy sign. He is Risen. He is Risen, indeed! Happy Easter, Yinz.