Right-Sized in the Universe?

Copernicus and others taught us that we're not the center of the universe.  Our home is just one of many homes swirling in the inky, spangled cosmos.  We're not even the center of our galaxy.  That's a milky collection of gassy chunks, where our sun is just one neighbor in the Local Fluff.  And we're not even the center of our solar system.  The sun is.  That's why it's called a solar system, not an earth system.

But at least we can still be the center of the earth, right?  With chest-thumping hymns of national exceptionalism or mind-numbing thoughts of personal egotism, we can put ourselves where we belong: on the pedestal of me-first-ism.

Then this comes along...

• Sunday I was reminded that there are more members of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Congo than there are in North America.   Interesting since the CC(DOC) claims to be the first denomination born in the United States.

• And I heard on NPR this morning that car-making icon General Motors sells more cars in China than it does in the United States.

So, where do we fit?  Does all that make you feel small? Or right-sized?  I wonder...

I'd like to hear from you.

Apologies, Apologies Everywhere

Apologies abound lately. Well, sort of. And as they abound, they sometimes confound.

I heard a college basketball player this morning describe an on-court dust-up with another player. The player apologized "if" the other player "took it the wrong way." A conditional apology isn't really an apology, is it?

Last week, New Orleans Saints coach Sean Payton apologized for his role in the "bounty" scandal where his players paid their teammates for injuring opposing teams. Payton said, "I am sorry for what has happened." Kind of makes you wonder, was he sorry for the bounty, or just sorry he got caught?

A few weeks before, President Obama apologized to the president of Afghanistan for Korans that were burned on a U.S. military base. Former Senator Rick Santorum snipped that Mr. Obama's apology showed "weakness." Newt Gingrich went further, saying that president "surrendered" by apologizing.

NPR apologized for a broadcast of "This American Life" that falsely described working conditions at an Apple factory in China. Then they spent an hour retracting and dissecting the false episode.

But the best apology of all in the news lately, belongs to Harold Camping. Camping is the radio preacher who said the world was going to end in May of last year. When it didn't, he changed the end-date to October. That date came and went.

Then, earlier this month, Camping broke his awkward silence to apologize. "We humbly acknowledge we were wrong," he wrote. The mistake was a "painful lesson," Camping said. Then he went on to call his own ideas "incorrect and sinful." Lest anyone still not understand, Camping threw in a few more "humbles" and spoke of himself "trembling before God."

Wow! Now that's an apology. The prediction business didn't turn out so well for Mr. Camping. Maybe he could go into the apology-writing business. Lots of work to be had there.

The Bible and Beards, Pigs and Presidents

Presidential wannabe Rick Santorum declared last week that President Obama’s ideas are not based on the Bible. Let’s assume that Mr. Santorum is elected president and goes about establishing a government based on the Bible.

First of all, beginning on Inauguration Day, the new President Santorum will stop shaving. And I guess he will force all men to stop shaving as well. (It’s in the Bible.) Will the FBI enforce beard lengths or will that be left up to the states?

And I feel sorry for the person that Mr. Santorum appoints to be Secretary of Agriculture. The USDA is likely to have a tough time with the National Pork Producers Association after the new administration bans pork chops, bacon, and sausage. (No pork. It’s in the Bible.) Wonder how that will affect business at the IHOP?

And that sheriff out in Arizona, the Republican who supported Romney, then announced he was gay and said he was having an affair with an immigrant whose visa was expired? Tough call there. After all, the Bible says over and over that you should love the stranger in your land and treat him well. (Leviticus 19:34 and other places). The sheriff certainly loved—or really, really liked -- at least one stranger. But I guess President Santorum may have to kill the sheriff anyway. That’s in the Bible, too. (Leviticus 20:13. Ouch!)

Yes, it will be tough for Mr. Santorum to put into place a government based on the Bible. But there’s good news as well.

We won’t go to war since the Bible says, “Do not kill,” “Love your enemies,” and “Turn the other cheek.” (Yep, they’re all there. Pretty clear.)

And even though Mr. Santorum wants to shrink federal government, I’m sure his new Bible-based rule will allow for a new Department of Forgiveness. After all, that’s a big part of biblical theology. (Who do you think he will appoint to be Assistant Secretary for the Confession of Sins? Newt Gingrich? Bill Clinton? A lot of us could go to work in that bureau.)

One final hope: Maybe this new Bible-based government will help the economy. After all, I’m guessing that millionaires like Mr. Santorum and Mr. Obama and gazillionaires like Mr. Romney will “sell all that they have and give the money to the poor.” (It’s in the Bible.)

Prop 8 Goes to Church

In 2008, voters in California passed Proposition 8, stating that in California, marriage is only between a man and a woman. The controversial issue went to court lickety-split, with all kinds of questions and complaints.

On Tuesday of this week, a federal court ruled that Prop 8 is unconstitutional.

On Wednesday of this week, I got an email from one of the Sunday School teachers at our church. Here's the story she told me:

In the younger elementary class, kids were drawing. One boy asked a Kindergarten girl about her pictures. She was making them for her girlfriends and boyfriends, she said.

Full of second grade wisdom, the boy replied, "So, two men can get married, and it's no big deal."

The Sunday School teacher told me that, at that point, she readied herself, thinking her grown-up input and explanation would be needed.

But the young girl simply replied, "Yeah, but sometimes they have trouble having babies, so they have to adopt."

In her email to me, the Sunday School teacher said, "End of conversation, no big deal."

She concluded, "I just wanted to let you know that even the youngest among us are actively practicing the teachings of our church. I am so pleased that I will be raising my daughter in an environment that is so accepting of all God's people."

___

The word out of California is that supporters of Prop 8 plan to appeal the recent court ruling. This case may make its way all the way up the marble steps of the Supreme Court. I wonder if an elementary Sunday School class can file an amicus curiae brief?

Ten (and a Half) Texas Politicians You Need to Know

So, Rick Perry’s decided to quit his presidential hunt, leaving quirky Ron Paul to be the man from Texas on the campaign trail. And George W. Bush’s time in the White House hasn’t quite faded from our national memory.

But believe it or not, Perry, Paul and Bush aren’t the only brand of Texas politicians. Along the way, Texans have elected – dare I say it? – a few liberals. Gulp! Maybe they called themselves moderates, progressives, or populists. Maybe they simply saw themselves acting with integrity or decency. Maybe their whole records aren’t perfect. Or maybe they just accidentally did a few good things.

But in the interest of fairness to my fellow Texans, here are ten Texas politicians you need to know:

1. Mirabeau B. Lamar. As second president of the Republic of Texas, he set aside land for each county to set up schools and for the support of two universities, later the University of Texas and Texas A&M University. Lamar supported education and had the good sense to say, “A cultivated mind is the guardian genius of democracy.”

2. Elisha M. Pease. As governor in the 1850s, Pease created the Permanent School Fund, a big chunk of money that helps Texas schools keep their head above water today (despite efforts to take away their flotation devices.) Pease also gladly used state dollars (read that, taxes) to build institutions for orphans, the mentally ill, and deaf and blind Texans. And, he paid off the state’s debt at the same time.

3. Miriam Ferguson. Okay, Miriam “Ma” Ferguson left a trail of corruption and scandal in her wake, and she was pretty much the pawn of her husband. But she’s worth knowing. In part because she was a woman, elected governor in 1924. And in part because Ma took on the Ku Klux Klan (a group that made the tea party look like amateurs). She stood up to bullies.

4. Dan Moody. As governor Dan Moody reorganized the state’s prisons. He redid the state highway system to make roads connect, which meant he cut highway costs in half and meant he stood up to the road-builders and their lobbyists. He had the state started auditing its accounts.

5. Maury Maverick. Maverick served only four years in Congress, representing San Antonio, but his work is monumental. During the Great Depression, Maverick lived with African-Americans, Mexican-Americans and poor whites to see their plight first hand. He brought to Washington the memories of those tragic places. He also brought an ACLU membership card, an opposition to lynching, and loathing of the poll tax. Maverick objected to the House Un-American Activities Committee, went so far as to oppose all war in principle (though he earned a Purple Heart in World War I), and gave the world the word, “gobbledygook.”

6. Lyndon Johnson. Yep, he swaggered like Bush and Perry. Yep, he governed like a bully sometimes. And yep the Vietnam War was a horror. But dag-nab-it, the Civil Rights Acts were remarkable pieces of legislation. Federal funds for education, Medicare, Medicaid, highway beautification, environmental conservation, an all-out assault on poverty, Head Start – those things were real and powerful and needed.

7. Barbara Jordan. She sounded like God and used her voice on behalf of others. She passed a workers’ compensation bill that helped injured workers, and she broadened the Voting Rights Act to make sure that Mexican Americans were covered.

8. Ann Richards. Funny, flawed and fearless. She supported a woman’s right to choose, she appointed openly gay and lesbian Texans to offices, and championed the rights of Latinos and women. To paraphrase Texas Senator Lloyd Bentsen’s broadside against Dan Quayle, “I lived in Texas when Ann Richards was governor, and Rick Perry is no Ann Richards.” (That probably makes them both happy.)

9. William Wayne Justice. As a federal judge, his ruling about prisoners’ rights led to a complete overhaul of the Texas penal system. And his 1970 ruling led Texas schools be desegregated. Longtime Texas Lieutenant Governor Bill Hobby said of the Judge Justice, he “dragged Texas into the 20th century. God bless him. He was very unpopular, but he was doing the right thing.”

10. My Uncle George. Okay, he was actually my great-uncle. He served as County Judge of Delta County for one term. While in office, my great-uncle George Bolger got crossed up with the county sheriff Benny Fisher over the bonds to fund the jail. The sheriff wanted more money, my uncle wanted less. In the midst of haggling out the details, a weekend rolled around. While everybody was away, the sheriff moved Uncle George’s office furniture move to the courthouse men’s. I don’t know who won the bonds debate, and my serious uncle was mortified by this entire episode. But that’s why he’s on the list – he was a politician who cared about the details of a budget and the dignity of public office.

10 ½. Benny Fisher. See #10. The Delta County Sheriff makes the list as an honorable mention for having a tremendous sense of humor.

Don't Be a (Religious) Hater

I’m kind of tired of people saying that they like Jesus, but they don’t like religion. (This little rant is prompted by a recent Facebook/YouTube clip, saying, “I hate religion, but I love Jesus.”)

There’s a whole other subset of folks who opt for the “spiritual, but not religious” track. That’s a different deal. Today, it’s the “Love Jesus, Hate Religion” mindset that’s bothersome.

I get the surface points – Jesus was about treating other people with kindness, honesty, justice, grace, compassion and love. Religion (or what people say is bad or false religion) sometimes (maybe oftentimes) squelches those virtues. Fair enough – on the surface.

So, to get by the squelching, some people – with earnest, hipster-like angst – want to opt out of religion. I think that’s selfish.

Following Jesus is cool. Devoting oneself to kindness, honesty, justice, grace, compassion and love – that’s the point of life, whether you love Jesus, Buddha, Zoroaster, or Bugs Bunny.

But I don’t think you can do those things in vacuum. That is, you can’t be kind, honest, just, graceful, compassionate and loving and never interact with another person. And the minute you interact with another person, you’ve started in on “religion.”

Religion is the process of living out a values system or a faith system. Religion is two or more people trying to follow Jesus, Buddha, Zoroaster or Bugs Bunny. And the minute two people start to interact, there is conflict, or at least the potential for conflict.

“We should demonstrate our devotion to Bugs Bunny by dressing up in rabbit suits and passing out carrots,” says Adherent Number 1.

“Should they be organic carrots,” asks Adherent Number 2.

And that’s when the trouble starts. That’s religion.

The way to avoid it is for Adherent Number 1 to withdraw, to love Bugs but hate religion, to avoid Adherent Number 2.

Maybe that would work for followers of cartoon rabbits, I don’t know. But I don’t think it works to be an independent, religion-averse Jesus-lover. I think being kind, honest, just, graceful, compassionate and loving requires being religious – that is, it requires being in connection with, in cooperation with, in community with – maybe even in disagreement with – other people trying to live out those same values.

You don’t have to call your community a church or a congregation or a coven or a klatch. But you can’t act piously and sanctimoniously above the fray of religion either. It’s part and parcel of following Jesus.

Rather than “hate” religion, I think we are called to embrace it, to recognize its inconsistencies, to laugh at its foibles, to admit our own contributions to its shortfalls, to transform it as best we can.

See, “religion” (i.e., people) has done some terrible, horrible, inexcusable things. And along the way, “religion” has had a fine moment or two as well. But to “hate” religion seems to be rather sanctimonious. To take part in religion seems like hard work that keeps us humble.

Laughing, Happy Sinners Wanted

"A place where sinners laugh at themselves and make other people happy.”

What is the church all about these days? Why does the church exist? Why am I a Christian? Why are you, dear reader, a Christian (if you are)?

I suppose these questions have always been important and have been asked in various ways for the last 2000 years or so. But ever so often they take on new relevance.

A church member here preached a very fine sermon last Sunday tackling those very questions. His sister (a minister) had emailed that his nephew (a cradle roll Presbyterian) had become a teenaged agnostic or maybe even an atheist. The sister was trying to figure out if the church was worth sticking with.

On a plane last week, I read Phyllis Tickle's book, The Great Emergence. She rips through a rollicking list of changes in the past 200 years -- from evolutionary science to the role of women to technology to transcience -- all of which have changed the church and have asked questions about the role of the church.

At the same time, the church where I serve is growing in this amorphous, willy-nilly kind of way that is invigorating and challenging. We probably need a larger building. But before we start mixing mortar, we thought it would be a good idea to think about, and maybe answer, the questions above.

So we began a formal process of trying to jot down a few sentences that define our church's values, our mission, and our vision.

Last night, a group of thoughtful souls sat around a table and bantered about vision. We were sort of working with the starting point, "In 3-5 years, United Christian Church will be..."

We talked and wrote and compiled lists and sample sentences filled with very good ideas. Our working premise is that church serves a three-fold purpose: It's a place for all people (emphasis on ALL) to enter, be welcomed, be included. Once they're here, the church is a place for healing, learning, growing. Third, we have a vision of our church as a "ministry center" -- a place that is a hub of all sorts of needs-meeting work and encourages people to do that work.

In trying to articulate all of that succinctly and compellingly, we were earnest...and wordy. The folks around the table were also funny and open-hearted.

At various points, we talked about the importance of fun, laughter, imperfection and passion in a church. Based on that, I tossed out a tongue-in-cheek vision statement: "United Christian Church is a place where sinful people come to laugh at themselves and make other people happy."

Not exactly high-faluting. Certainly not traditional. Possibly even a little shocking to some. But I like. I think it captures the three-fold vision we were exploring.

No doubt our vision writing group, with input from the larger congregation, will, in time, craft a more poetic, evocative formal vision statement. In the meantime, I'm holding on to this one as an informal mantra of who the church is called to be: "Sinful people who come together to laugh at themselves and make other people happy."

Can I get an, "Amen"?