the challenge of the Word

This past Thursday, I attended a Bible Study where the topic each week is something based on current events and relating them back to the Bible and a Christian way of living.  It was only my second week there, and to set the scene a bit, it’s a 7AM breakfast and study attended by men only, most of whom are retired.  We’re in a church a bit north of the city in a community that used to be rural but has definitely become suburban.  The topic of the first week was the H1N1 virus and what a Christian response to “perceived threats” should look like, and this week’s topic was torture implemented by the US government.  This is not a study of the week of heart!

For the study, a little background is given and then the lesson progresses through various scripture passages that relate to the topic.  Part of the background was a recent survey that revealed that over half of churchgoers who attend services at least weekly — 54% — believe that torture of suspected terrorists is “sometimes” or “often” justified, compared to 42% of those who do not attend services.  Only 25% of total respondents (churchgoers and not) said torture is “never” justified.  (See more info: percentage graphic; more commentary.)

The discussion started out more political, which I wasn’t too interested in discussing, especially since I had met most of these men only the week before, but also because I didn’t seem to share much in common politically with those who were talking, and a Bible Study didn’t seem the right place to squabble about politics.  At this point, I was thinking to myself, “I don’t know if I can come to this again.  We seem to have really divergent views, and this is a bit uncomfortable for me.”

However, as the discussion moved on, more Bible verses were touched upon and the topic branched out into the idea of loving one’s enemies.  Others still showed some doubt in how “realistic” this might be, but it was now that I felt compelled to speak.  It wasn’t any more about politics, it was about faith and belief — my reason for attending.  I can’t adequately summarize what I was able to say (I’m not sure if I was really the one speaking), but I started by telling everyone that I’m a proponent of nonviolence, and I’m sure the rest of it had much to do with the idea of how challenging it really is to follow Christ’s examples and commandments. (This morning in worship I learned that “commandment” is only mentioned in John’s gospel once by Jesus, in saying, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” John 15:12)  Torture and war don’t seem to me to be showing love in the way Jesus first loved us.

All in all, I felt pretty OK the way the Bible Study turned out.  It could be easy for me to just no show up again, knowing there are many there who I may not agree with on various matters, political and otherwise.  We all so often surround ourselves with like-minded people and don’t experience others holding views other than the ones we hold so dear.  We don’t get out of our comfort zones, and then we’re shocked when we hear others believing things contrary to what we believe in, for we have had no contact with them and cannot fathom where those viewpoints came from.  But being in a place where people can be open to others’ differences of opinion and thought, treating them with love and compassion in a discussion that seeks understanding and not the creation of enemies, is something we need a LOT more of in this would of ours.

I was lucky enough to attend a banquet today to commemorate the 50th anniversary of a pastor’s ordination (the date he became a pastor).  He summoned up what he felt is his calling in ministry in just a few short words: To afflict the comfortable, and comfort the afflicted. As it hit my ears, it resonated deep inside of me, and I know it is something I will carry with me from this day forth.

The Gospel is challenging stuff, and if we (Christians) don’t shake things up and challenge one another to abandon what’s “comfortable” and look deeply into Scripture to truly follow the commands of Christ, who will?

letting the questions fade away

“We are called to act with jutice,
we are called to love tenderly,
we are called to serve one another,
to walk humbly with God.”

– David Hass (paraphrase of Micah 6:8)

Over the past month or so, I’ve been asked and asking myself questions about some of the particulars regarding my faith and faith in general.  Some have been small in magnitude, but others much greater, like, “Do you believe in an afterlife?” or “Is there a ‘god’ that created everything?”  Many times I try to duck these questions, especially when I’m asking them to myself, but if they come from someone else, it’s a bit more of a challenge.

Recently I was asked a tough question in a group discussion, and it’s one that I usually answer to myself, “It really doesn’t matter,” but this wasn’t sufficient for those collected, so I decided to verbalize the “if I have to say something” answer I usually refrain from in an attempt to avoid going deeper into what that means for me and my faith.  After I got it out, it was OK, because what I said was only the truth of what I feel deep down, an opportunity to be honest with myself in a way I usually avoid.

In the past few days, since verbalizing that uncomfortable answer, I’ve been contemplating what exactly it means that some of my personal beliefs might conflict with some seemingly significant (doctrinal?) pieces of the faith I claim when I call myself a Christian.  Am I really fooling myself and others?  Calling myself “Lutheran” anymore is probably a stretch and likely now more of a cultural connection for me than anything, but Christian?  Is that no longer true, too?

But singing the words from Micah 6:8 (above) this morning at a Christian (though non-Lutheran) service, I was reminded again that while there may be questions out there I answer differently than others who consider themselves Christian, and which might cause certain other Christians, if they knew my answers, to tell me I’m not, in fact, one of them, that doesn’t matter to me.

For me, being a Christian is all about following Christ, and following Christ to me means living a life full of love and grace, of kindness and hospitality, of justice and peace.  Does any of that have to do with being “saved” or believing God created the earth in a certain number of days or even believing in a “tangible” afterlife where people or souls or spirits or whatever spend eternity?

My “philosophy,” as someone termed it in a question to me last month, is simply one thing: love.  I believe following Christ — him bing for you the “Risen Lord” or just another great guy — is about the love.  I may not answer some questions of faith in a way you might expect or agree with, but I believe that following love and seeking, as much as is humanly possible, to be love is what makes me as much a Christian as those who sat humbly at Jesus’ feet, listening to His teachings and going forth to do likewise.

So instead of letting the questions I may answer “wrongly” or not have the answers to get in the way, I hold firm in that which I do know — God is Love, Christ is Love, and by putting Love above all other things, I truly am following The Way.

Peace and love as you discern how The Way might be calling you, too.

when religion breeds intolerance

Religion is an interesting entity, isn’t it?  I’ve been a “religious person” since I can remember, and I would still consider myself one today, though that title makes me a little uncomfortable because of the many negative connotations it conjures up in so many people.  Many people have been hurt by religion, or probably stated more correctly, the “religious establishment.”  Religion can do many amazing things, as can be seen by some of the work religious entities do in times of crisis, but can also conjure up horrors, as we saw in the Crusades.  One could write books about a variety of issues concerning religion (and many people have — just visit any bookstore), but I want to talk about one issue on my mind today that connects with religion: intolerance.

I’ve had a few interesting conversations about religion this past week with someone I’ve met here in my travels, and the connection of religion to tolerance (or a lack there of) has crept into most of those conversations.  Our first conversation talked about how many religions do overlap in some qualities, like love and peace, but somehow the differences are what we tend to emphasize; and then, unfortunately, the values created out of those differences in some way cause us all to forget about the underlying values of love and peace found when one really looks at religion.

(Note: Instead of doing so for each example, I will iterate here that I believe each of the following religions, as a general rule, holds a value of love, peace, and tolerance, though each example shows that this can sometimes be forgotten about when looking at certain issues.)
A few examples:
The sector of Christianity which says God does not love or accept homosexuals.
The sector of Judaism which advocates for the expulsion of Palestinians from certain lands of the Middle East.
The sector of Islam which seeks a “holy war” against Westernism.

There are many great people in religious institutions and organizations working for peace and justice (CPT and LVC are just two examples), but it’s so easy to look at the bad instead of the overwhelming volume of good that is out there (the media certainly does it).  In general, I believe that religion should teach us how to be tolerant of one another and to seek ways to love and support one another in the struggles that exist for all of us in this world.

I certainly don’t want to be caught up in a “religion” which people associate with intolerance, but I haven’t let that be a reason to drop the “religious” adjective when I describe myself.  Hopefully as people experience who I am and what I stand for, they will realize that I, and maybe most of the religious community itself, believe in a life full of love and respect, hope and justice, for all people, and through connecting with others who share those values, we can truly make a difference.

Peace.