This is Outrageous

This past January, a community of Muslim Americans gathered to explore how they could foster more positive depictions of the faith they love. It was timely work for these practitioners of Islam given the terrorist actions just a week before – an extremist acting in the name of their religion at Charlie Hebdo.  

But their efforts for peace were interrupted by other extremists acting in the name of their religion: some “Christians” gathered to protest the presence of their neighbors, claiming Muslims had no right to gather at the local community center; claiming Islam is inherently violent. (These claims, by the way, were accompanied by Internet threats of guns and bombs.)

This happened next door to me. I lived in Garland Texas; I served a Christian church there; I sometimes worshiped at the mosque just down the street in the neighboring suburb. This is my community. This is my home. These are my neighbors. This is outrageous.

This past Thursday, a gathering of Muslim Americans met for the Texas Muslim Capital Day in Austin. Students and children and faith leaders sought to learn more about the democratic process and to meet their representatives. But again – religious extremists interrupted their efforts for peace. As the children stood proudly and began singing the National Anthem, “Christian” protesters – acting in the name of their religion - accused and insulted and disrespected their neighbors.

This is my state. This is my home. These are my neighbors. This is outrageous.

“Outrage” is a word that speaks of being out of bounds, over the top, off limits.  I suppose these protesters are “outraged” because for them, Islam is an over the top religion. In their opinion, the people of this faith are off limits. In their way of thinking, Muslims do not deserve First Amendment Rights. In their minds, any religion besides their own is out of bounds.

I say this is outrageous.

As an American, I am outraged at the never ending cycles of disrespect that keep occurring in this land that I love: African Americans, Jewish Americans, Japanese Americans, Catholic Americans, Asian Americans, Muslim Americans … the list goes on. Our founding documents articulate ideals of equality, tolerance, unity, harmony, respect, but in all of our history, have we ever lived up to those ideals? Do we even want to?

As a Christian, I am outraged at the never ending cycles of hate masquerading as patriotism. I know many people are very distrustful of the term “Christian;” I get that – especially given these kinds of hateful actions in the name of the faith that I love. In recent years, I have grown very distrustful of the term “patriot” for similar reasons. I want to figure out how to reclaim both these words and reconnect them to their more hopeful (and yes, idealistic) meanings. Both patriotism and Christianity should be bold antonyms to hatred, disrespect and exclusion.

I know some people believe religion is inherently divisive, but I disagree. I believe it is we humans who are divisive, tribal, exclusive of whomever we consider to be “other.” Religion – done rightly – works for justice, peace and reconciliation within the human family. There is nothing inherently “bad” about either religion or patriotism; but there is something deeply “bad” that emerges whenever the two are wed. The terrorist who murdered twelve people in Paris in the name of religion, the KKK that burned “Christian” crosses and hung people from trees, the Nazis who twisted patriotism into a religion of hate, and the current day protesters who use Christ's name to condemn any of God’s children – these may be degrees on a spectrum but they are all outrageous to me. (To clarify, I am not outraged by protest per se; this too is a constitutional right. I am outraged at the attitudes of hatred that motivate these people to protest. I am outraged at the incivility and disrespect that is so rampant in our American conversation.)

I wrote in an earlier blog about the foundational Christian paradigm of “love of neighbor.” In that essay, I recommend this principle of love as a basic construct for how we live together in society and how we do politics in this nation. For me, as a Christian, this call to love must be concrete and practical and visible. There is another fundamental Christian concept called the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Of course both these “rules” for living are not just Christian, both were articulated by the Jewish ancestors of this Judeo-Christian tradition and both are deeply held values within many diverse religious traditions. But surely both these paradigms - love of neighbor and just, equitable treatment others – surely these foundational attitudes should be displayed by all who call themselves “Christian.” Every time people wearing the name of Christ disregard such basic principles and instead practice hate and disrespect, I am outraged.

Abdul Malik Mujahid helped organize the Muslim effort at the Garland Community Center. He said this:

"It is extremely important for the Muslim community to connect with our message. We cannot allow terrorists to run away with the merciful personality of Prophet Muhammad, that they are standing on his name. No. We Muslims in the world, 1.7 billion people, we don’t agree with that. ... At the same time, we’re wondering whether there are good neighbors in America who will stand up with people of other faiths for their right to practice their faith."

As a Christian, as a person of faith, as a pastor, I stand in God’s own over-the-top outrageous love, grace and welcome. How dare I fail to offer love and welcome to any neighbor? 

As an American, I stand with Mr. Mujahid, with my Muslim neighbors, and with all people who work for justice, peace and reconciliation. I stand firmly in our American ideals of equality, tolerance, unity, harmony and respect.

Who stands with me?

Charlotte Vaughan Coyle is an ordained minister within the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ.)

Wrestling with God

I dislocated my shoulder during the week I was working on the Genesis story about Jacob’s encounter with God by the river Jabbok. That entire week, I was moving slowly, with a fair amount of pain; all that week I was living with my own limp so now I have so much more sympathy for Jacob than I’ve ever had before! 

As I studied Genesis 32, I kept thinking about the ways we all wrestle with God; or maybe better – the ways I wrestle with God.

     I struggled mightily with my call to ministry. It took me years to be able to even hear a call, more years to know how to say “yes” to a call, even more years to lean in wholeheartedly to that call.

     I struggled with the decision to sell my home in the big city, to leave my family behind and to move to a small church in a small town in East Texas. Was that really God’s will? How on earth does one know such things?

     I struggle each week with the scriptures. First, I struggle to hear a current word from God speaking to me. And then I struggle to discern what God's word might be for others, a larger group of us seeking to Live in The Story.

     And then - when I think I have some tiny sense of what that word might possibly be - then I struggle mightily with how to say it so that someone might actually be able to hear it.

     I struggle to understand why cancer, dementia and hopelessness continue to be epidemic; why some babies are born much too early and some people die much too soon; why violence and arrogance and divisiveness seem to be valued in our society while compassion and compatibility and humility are scorned.

     Sometimes I struggle to forgive; I struggle with insecurity; I struggle with discouragement. It seems like I am always living with a limp.

I imagine you have your list. I've come to believe that if we are human then there will always be ways we wrestle with life; we wrestle with God.

But what I began to see as I studied our Living in The Story texts for this week is that the wrestling match in our story for today did not come from Jacob. The story is very intentional to describe it as a Divine Intrusion, a Divine Interruption. 

Here is Jacob being Jacob – on his way to make amends with his brother Esau (Is Jacob once again manipulating? Plotting and planning the best way to win Esau’s approval by his elaborate orchestrations of gifts? Is Jacob really sorry for what he did or just sorry he got in trouble?) Anyway, here is Jacob, doing his own thing, minding his own business, when out of the blue he is thrown flat on his back, looking at a world turned upside down.
 

Not a freak accident; not a twist of fate; not by the hand of any other human. (The Scripture says it was “a man” who wrestled with Jacob but the story interprets God as the Instigator of the battle of wills beside the river Jabbok.) At the end, as he limps away from this encounter, Jacob names the place, names his experience: Penuel - “I have seen God face to face.”

These ancient stories remind us that this ancient people did the best they could making sense of the who and the how and why of God. Often this making-sense is described in the stories as “namings.”

         Abraham names his experience with Isaac and the ram in the bush and the angel who stops the knife as: “The Lord provides.” (Genesis 22)

         Hagar, the courageous slave of Sarah, the tenacious mother of Ishmael, the cast out one who was found and spared by divine intervention, is said even to name God! “The One who Sees.” (Genesis 16)

         Jacob names the place of his dream with a ladder of angels and a promise of blessing as Bethel: “the house of God.” (Genesis 28)

         Jacob’s wives name their children in light of their relationships with Jacob and God and life. (Genesis 29-30)

We moderns still do the best we can: asking questions, probing mysteries, naming the experiences of our lives in ways that attempt to make sense. We are not really so different from our ancestors. 

But one thing we see in The Story – this narrative of God’s presence in human history - one consistent thing we are discovering whenever we read the Bible - is that Scripture gives witness to a God who is ever breaking into the human experience in unexpected ways - intruding, interrupting and instigating relationship.

“Why does God wrestle with Jacob?”  Terence Fretheim asks in his commentary on Genesis. “Such struggles might be viewed as divinely initiated exercises in human becoming, of shaping and sharpening the faithfulness of the humans involved for the deep challenges to be faced. God’s engagement in such moments in people’s lives is always a gracious move, informed most basically by faithfulness to promises made, and in the interests of health, peace and well being.”

When Jacob was brought to his knees in his wrestling match with God, Jacob held on for dear life. His determination and perseverance – even in the face of the Overwhelming God – confirmed him to be the one who would continue to bear the Promise given to Abraham. In this struggle of becoming more authentically human, God shaped and sharpened Jacob’s faithfulness for the challenges yet to come. 

And God named him.

Jacob is transformed into Israel.

Some time ago, I read an article about a young woman named Megan Phelps-Roper. She’s the granddaughter of Fred Phelps, the founder and leader of Westboro Baptist Church, infamously known as the “God hates fags” church. (I’m thinking I probably saw Megan several years ago at our Disciples General Assembly in Kansas City when her church family with their protest signs stood on a street corner across from the Convention Center.)

         For most of her 27 years, Megan has been immersed in a world of judgment and hate. It is – literally – all she has ever known. She ate, drank and slept in a certainty that Westboro was Right (with a capital R) and everyone else was Wrong (with a capital W). She believed beyond any doubt that her call in life was to proclaim the sin of the world and to announce its doom.

         But then, out of the blue, evidently God met Megan at her own River Jabbok and initiated a wrestling match. It’s been long. It’s been hard. It’s been painful. And Megan Phelps, who was once so sure-footed is now hobbling away from everything she has known, everyone she has known, everything she has ever believed. Now she is dead to her family.

         How does one have the where-with-all to make such a radical change? To turn so completely? To let go of the known way and to walk - however lamely - toward the breaking of a new dawn in a whole new world?  

         Her wrestlings are not near over. In the interview, she pondered how her name is now associated with hate and judgment in the mind of many people. She wonders if the significance of her name might ever be able to change. I daresay Megan will be living with a limp for a long time. But I believe God’s Divine Intrusion into her life will result in blessing – not only for her, but for many, many others as well.

We’ve been reading the works of the apostle Paul alongside these Genesis stories. Here is another story about God initiating a wrestling match with someone who was immersed in a world of judgment and self-righteousness. Luke is actually the one who tells us a story about Paul’s encounter with the Risen Christ on the road to Damascus. The Book of Acts tells how Paul was blinded so that he might finally be able to see; how he was brought to his knees so that he might finally be able to walk away from old understandings, from long time patterns of judgment and exclusion. 

When Paul wrote to the Galatians, he confessed how violently he had persecuted the church of Jesus Christ. (Galatians 1:13-17)

When Paul wrote to the Romans, he acknowledged he is in the same boat with “all who have sinned” and he is in the same ark with all who encounter God’s radical grace. (Romans 3:21-26)

When Paul wrote to the Corinthians, he described how he had received a “thorn in the flesh” so that he might better lean into that Grace. (2 Corinthians 12:1-10)

Paul’s self-certainty was transformed into a deep dependence on the God who had wrestled him to the ground and raised him up to a new life. Paul was given Christ's vision of the new people, a people of God who are not Jew or Gentile or slave or free or male and female, but who are all baptized into one body of Jesus Christ; who are becoming the one people of God. (Galatians 3:27-29)

Saul, the persecutor of the gospel was given a new name: Paul, the proclaimer of the gospel. And for the rest of his life, God continued to shape and sharpen his faithfulness for the challenges that would come.

And there are many challenges – for Paul, for the congregations he pastored, and for us. Living into the vision and actually becoming one people of God, a whole people of Christ who really do live in the unity of the Spirit will always be a struggle. There are many who resist and even resent such a vision. So, even though Paul had been raised to new life, still he lived the rest of his life with a limp, needing always to lean into the God who had called and commissioned him for this work.

My dislocated shoulder, Jacob’s hip, Paul’s thorn. It seems like there is always something or another that causes us to live with a limp. And I'm wondering how to interpret this, what I need to learn from this experience. These things come to mind:

I am more aware of God’s presence. 

I'm not willing to say God was the instigator, tripping me up in my garage and causing me to fall. But I am willing to say God is at work in all this, teaching me new ways to see and to be in my world. 

That said, there have been occasions in my life in which I am bold to name God as my Divine Intruder, as the one who interrupted what was and instigated something I never could have imagined on my own. 

Those times – like Jacob’s and Paul’s and Megan’s – are always very uncomfortable. Living by faith, walking into God’s unknown, letting go of what has been and trusting that the Creator is still creating new things in the universe – this is hard.

Wherever these times of wrestling come from, we still can name them as opportunities; second chances to open our eyes anew to God’s presence and God’s way. We can let ourselves see life from a different perspective; we can rediscover our gifts and potential; we can get lots of practice leaning into the promise.

I'm more aware of how important it is to stay grounded. 

When we lose our balance, when things change and we find ourselves making all sorts of adjustments, that’s when we can learn to live with intention and attention. We put one foot in front of the other, we take our time, we stay aware, we move with care. And we take time to “be still: to know that God is God” (Psalm 46). To trust that God is God. To let God be God. And we remember – with deep gratitude - how interdependent we are on the supportive grace and wisdom of others.

And, I am much more aware of the power of pain.   

When things are going well, it’s easy to become complacent. But when we hurt, we can be reminded that pain and hardship are the lot of most people in the world most of the time; we can become more sensitive to the struggles and the wrestlings of others. I’ve learned that pain can either shut us down and make us smaller. Or it can break us open and make us larger - more loving, more patient and more compassionate.

         Like Jacob may we hold on tenaciously to God – boldly expecting God’s blessing and trusting in God’s promise even in the midst of the struggle.

         Like Paul may we be empowered with new vision and passion for the people we are ever becoming, trusting that it is God who is always bringing us into being.

         Like Megan may we be bold to step out of what-has-been and into what-may-be.

         May God never cease sharpening and shaping faithfulness in each of us individually and all of us together for whatever challenges lay ahead.

Terence E. Fretheim, “Genesis” The New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume 1 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1994) 568.

Megan Phelps

https://medium.com/reporters-notebook/d63ecca43e35

Jacob Wrestling by Edward Knippers

http://edwardknippers.com/new-works/large

A Study for Jacob Wrestling by Eugène Delacroix

http://www.louvre.fr/en/oeuvre-notices/study-%E2%80%9Cjacob-wrestling-angel%E2%80%9D

Dear Nice Person Who Asked About My Recent Letter to Senator Cruz

Thank you for writing and thank you for your questions about my pastoral reflections for Senator Ted Cruz. 

I’m impressed with your questions. More than that, though, I am pleased to see your willingness to engage in honest conversation with someone who holds different opinions. That kind of curiosity and openness is lacking in our current public dialog and I applaud your effort.

You are a student in a conservative Christian school and I am a progressive Christian pastor. You say you were “intrigued” by my letter and I can only assume that is because you have had very few opportunities to hear an articulation of Christian faith from a perspective that is different from your own. I get that; I was raised fundamentalist and it was years before I was able to see how very, very large this Christian tent actually is. I love that about our faith, but I know a lot of people are threatened by such diversity. I hope our conversation will help you see diversity is not harmful but instead is immensely helpful and healthy.

I would like to begin where you ended: “was your letter more about your love to serve the will of Christ or more about serving the love of ideology?” you asked. A piercing question and I accept the challenge to critique myself. Any of us who presume to speak up and try to influence a larger conversation must constantly evaluate the beliefs that shape us. For me, I can honestly say: “No” this is not an ideology but “Yes” there is a paradigm, a framework, a fundamental perspective I hold: for people of faith, love of God and love of neighbor must be the motivation behind everything we do.

For this particular pastoral letter to Senator Cruz, I sought to articulate that foundational vision of faith and faithfulness in order to raise the question: do his particular political approaches that I mentioned in the letter demonstrate love of neighbor? Obviously I do not think so, but even if my questions lead Senator Cruz to ask his own questions, then something good will have come from my effort.

A number of years ago, I hosted a conversation at a denominational conference between two of my Christian friends who had both been active in politics: one a Republican and one a Democrat. One of the questions I posed to each of them was: “How has your faith influenced your politics?” 

My Democrat friend had thought long and hard about that over the years and talked about how this notion of “love of neighbor” had informed his work as a state legislator. My Republican former mayor friend was taken aback; he had never even considered that there should be an intersection between his faith and his politics. 

(Of course I am not talking here about unconstitutional influences of institutional churches within our political system; I am extremely grateful for the notion of separation of church and state that is fundamental to our nation's integrity. Rather I am talking about the spiritual values that can foster unity and harmony, peace and justice within a society. And of course those spiritual, ethical values are not the sole domain of any religion; many non-religious people share these values with us. But in these particular conversations, I'm reflecting on the values that are clearly a part of the Christian tradition you, Senator Cruz and I are a part of.)

I don’t consider myself to be particularly political. I am a big picture person and I don’t know enough to be able to craft political programs, policies and solutions to address our societal problems. But then, on the other hand, I believe we all must be “political” in the sense that we live in this society together. (The Greek word, “polis” = “city” describes a people’s shared life together.) So my big picture, my core criteria as I consider how we should treat one another as individuals and as groups of people continues to be the love of neighbor.

You asked: Does someone who is against the Affordable Care Act have less Christ-like attributes than someone who supports it?

The ACA is not perfect but it’s what we’ve got and, as best as I can tell, seems to be helping. If there are problems, then our politicians should tweak the law and improve it. But again for me, the bottom line and core criteria is the concept of neighbor. In America, some years ago, we made the societal decision to provide accessible and free education for all our children. In our country, even those who are not citizens have the right to education. Maybe because I am a former nurse, in my way of thinking, access to health care is an equally important and fundamental right and should be the practice of a just society. People with “Christ-like attributes” can have different opinions about how we address this issue; but if we say we are Christians then I would say the way of the Christ demands that we follow his way and work on behalf of healing and wholeness for all people.

You asked: Does someone have more of the love of Christ inside their heart who supports illegal immigration than someone who is opposed to it?

Look at the way you framed your question, my friend. Do you really believe those of us who support immigration reform actually “support illegal immigration?”

Jesus, as a faithful Jew, stood squarely in the prophetic tradition of Israel wherein the governmental and religious leaders, all the people as a matter of fact, were charged with hospitality. 

This fundamental expectation was grounded in the generosity of the God they served "who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the strangers, providing them food and clothing. You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

Here is my paradigm: politicians who claim to stand with Jesus must be responsible for creating political approaches to immigration that pass the tests of justice, compassion and hospitality.

You commented: I noticed that you mentioned "the rich" quite a few times in your letter. While I am not defending those who are affluent with the blessings our Lord has given them and not using it to proclaim glory to Him, I have to ask: are not the rich paying, by far, more in taxes to the federal government than "the working poor"?

Again, within the Judeo-Christian prophetic tradition, “the rich” carry a greater responsibility for others and suffer a greater judgment whenever “the poor” are neglected and oppressed. And again Jesus, standing in this prophetic tradition, consistently held “the rich” to a very high standard. Wealth in itself is not the problem; rather selfishness and self-centeredness is what damages a human soul and even the soul of a nation.

Also, I would say that material wealth is not a sign of God’s “blessing.” When Jesus spoke of those who are blessed in his famous, enigmatic beatitudes, it was always blessing in the absence of money, power or prestige. (“Blessed are the poor in spirit, the merciful, the peacemakers…”) There is a harmful stream of Christianity that imagines prosperity is a mark of faithfulness; this is not the way of the Christ.

Thank you for your time, you say in your closing; and God bless you and your family. And I say: May God go with you as you keep asking faithful questions. And may we both go with God on this forever journey of faith.

Grace and Peace,

Charlotte

Where is All This Going?

Genesis 12

Romans 4

John 14

Several years ago, I went on a field trip with a group of friends to walk a labyrinth; it was interesting to do that personal spiritual practice alongside a spiritual community. We all started in the same place, of course, but we began at different times and progressed at different rates so we never were in the same place at the same time. We were all in various places, but we were all on the same path.

When you walk a labyrinth, at first it feels a bit like a maze with a pathway that twists and turns. But unlike a maze, in a labyrinth, there is never a dead end; there is always a way forward. Sometimes we would be oh so near the center and then the way would spiral back until we found ourselves almost to where we had started. 

Sometimes there would be a long trek on a straight, steady path and then, unexpectedly, everything turned and our orientation would be completely readjusted.

The Christian practice of walking a prayer labyrinth developed centuries ago as a mini-experience of holy pilgrimage with Jerusalem as its center. These days, many Christians who engage in this spiritual practice understand the center not as a place but as an awareness of God. In the practice of a labyrinth, first prayer takes us inward and we have time to ponder who we are; who we are with God; how we are doing; what all this means. Our first prayer takes us inward, toward our Center. And then we step into the Center and there we rest, envisioning ourselves at rest in the very heart of God. And then, after resting, the path turns outward again. The way of our pilgrim prayer moves us back into our world where we live in the love we have met and we follow Christ’s command to love one another. 

Walkers of this way understand that all of us journeyers invariably are in varied places at the same time, encountering different experiences and gaining different insights. We embrace all these differences as we love one another. 

And walkers of this way understand that our “center” is not one location that we move in and out of; rather this whole labyrinth - our entire life and journey of faith and everything in all creation - is embraced within THE Center, the Ground of all being; all is enveloped within the One who is Love.

When we read the Genesis stories, we hear God’s call for Abram to “go;” to enter the pilgrim’s life; to leave everything familiar and comfortable; to walk away from land and home and family and to walk toward a totally unknown future in this labyrinthine way with God. 

(That’s impressive to me in a profoundly spiritual sense, but also in a very practical way because when archeologists’ describe Abram’s hometown in Ur of the Chaldees, they say Abram may well have had running water and indoor toilets! Walking away from indoor plumbing in order to live as a nomad in a tent is more faithfulness than I could probably muster!)

Abraham’s faith and faithfulness is legendary and has become the foundation of the religious faith of most of the people on our planet. He is the founding father of Jews, Christians and Muslims – the “father of many nations” – and his example of faith gives us a touchstone while we figure out how we too might be a blessing to the nations of the earth in which we live.

But the Abraham narratives also show us how often he stumbled in his walk with God. We read about his misstep of fear when he told local kings that his wife was his sister and he let them take her into their harems. We read about Abram being tripped up by Sarah’s manipulations to have a son by using and abusing the slave woman Hagar. Abraham’s journey in faith happened stage by stage and step by step; his walk with God was in fits and starts and twists and turns. When we actually read these stories for ourselves instead of hearing them yet again in their children’s version, we can recognize what a mixed bag our Bible heroes really are. But even with Abram’s imperfect faith, we see in him a stubborn faithfulness that helps all of us mixed bag followers to hope against hope that God is more faithful than we can ever be. 

In our New Testament, Abraham was a pivotal a figure for the apostle Paul as Paul read and re-read the ancient stories and reinterpreted the historic faith of Judaism in light of the Christ event. In the letter to the Romans, Paul draws extensively from the story of Abraham as he argues his point that – even though God has done a whole new thing in the universe in the event of Jesus Christ – still God’s work of making things right in the world, of making people right with God has been going on for a very long time.

"Hoping against hope" (Paul says), "Abraham believed that he would become 'the father of many nations,' according to what was said: 'So numerous shall your descendants be.' He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was already as good as dead (for he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah’s womb.  No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, being fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised.  Therefore his faith 'was reckoned to him as righteousness.' "  (Romans 4:18-22)

New Testament scholars and pastors Gene Boring and Fred Craddock consider what this means. Here is part of their reflection: “Paul’s own faith is centered on the God who raised Jesus from the dead, the God who generates hope when there is no hope, the same God who acted in the ‘dead’ bodies of Abraham and Sarah to give new life…For Paul, all those such as Abraham who trust in God’s impossible promises have resurrection faith – even though they may never have heard of Jesus” (479).

Now that’s a hopeful interpretation! If Abraham is the father of the faithful, then surely ALL people whose faith points them to the one true God – no matter what they might call the One who is beyond all names, no matter what they might understand about how that hope has been accomplished – surely still this is faith that God honors and claims and reckons. 

“All who trust in God’s impossible promises have resurrection faith – even though they may never have heard of Jesus.”

No matter where we are on our labyrinthine journey of faith, at all our different stages and places, any faith that holds on to God’s impossible possibilities and leads us toward The Center, any faith that leads us to love one another, I believe, is faith that God ‘reckons as righteousness.’ 

Boring and Craddock observe something else helpful in this Christian reflection of the Abraham story. Consider their explanation of this idea of “reckoning:”

"Paul’s term 'reckoned, counted as righteous' has legal connotations, but it does not mean that a judge treats the accused 'as if' they are not guilty. Rather, in Paul’s argument, God’s pronouncement of 'righteous' is performative language that creates the reality it pronounces. Those who trust in God are declared righteous - and so they are (478).

·      A minister pronounces: “You are husband and wife…” and something real happens. Performative language.

·      An umpire calls: “Strike!” ... and so it is. Performative language.

·      Paul proclaims that - because of the work of God and the Word of God made visible in Jesus Christ - the guilty are "right" and sinners are "righteous" ... and so we are. Performative language.

In God’s work of justification and reckoning, an alternative reality comes into existence without our aid; it is God's work. And any faith that hopes against hope in God’s impossible possibilities, any faith that leads us toward The Center is faith that God will ‘reckon as righteous.’
 

In the Gospel of John, we also find that the Abraham story has special significance for John’s Jesus. “Before Abraham was, I AM,” he claims (8:56). “I AM the Way, the Truth, the Life” (14:6). For the Christians in John’s community, following Christ “in the way” meant their lives were immersed in The Way of God that has been unfolding throughout history - even before Abraham. And yet here, in this one Jesus the Christ who is the Way of God, all our journeys of faith are included. Like a cosmic labyrinth, God’s Christ encompasses all creation: every beginning, every ending and every step in between. “Even though they may never have heard of Jesus” – Boring and Craddock remind us.

Journey is and has always been the way of the people of God, but when we see ourselves as a settled people, we become set in our ways, even stuck. That’s why our intentional disciplined faith journey is crucial: seeing ourselves walking as Abraham walked, step by step and stage by stage. Even when we journey in fits and starts; even when we don’t know where we’re going or what we’re doing; even when we make mistakes or refuse what God is unfolding before us – even so we, like Abraham, can hope against hope that all this is going somewhere – somewhere good and right.  

Like Abraham, who saw the fulfillment of God’s promise not with human eyes but with the eyes of hope and confidence, we too entrust ourselves to the One who is our Eternal Center, the One who generates all hope. That’s a good reason why we need each other, why we need spiritual community – to encourage and remind each other, to embody hope for one another throughout this journey.

Whenever we see ourselves journeying with Abraham, on the move with Paul, following Christ in the Way – then we can live with confidence that in this journey of understanding, of thought, of theology, of practice, of life, we are going somewhere. Even though we may feel sometimes like we’re going around in circles, maybe what we really are doing is progressing through the spiraling path of a cosmic labyrinth that God is unfolding before us.

Where is all this going? I wonder: is that really ours to know? When we live our lives in God’s labyrinth, we simply follow the path that opens up before us. We are called to take the next step and then the next step after that. We are called to faithfulness.

Charlotte Vaughan Coyle 2014

M. Eugene Boring and Fred B. Craddock, The People’s New Testament Commentary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004).

Submitting To Equality: One Woman's Journey

A few weeks before my daughter left for university, we sprawled on my bed, giggling our way through some of my old diaries. I scarcely recognized the twelve-year-old girl who wrote those words; she now seems like a total stranger. Silly, superficial, and nauseatingly boy-crazy, this Southern-bred, naively arrogant, fundamentalist preacher's daughter embarrasses me, astounds me, intrigues me.

Tucked away amid the oohs and aahs and the ups and downs of young love, I found this little aside:

October 3, 1962

Pretty late. Just finished h.work. There's been a lot of hubbub about whether or not a certain Negro would get in Ole' Miss College. Gov. went against Federal law twice. Negro got in. 2 people were killed & several wounded. Walter Shirrah went around the earth 6 times. Wow.

How did that girl feel about the two people who were killed on a cool autumn day on a Southern college campus? What did she think about a "Negro" stepping out of his "proper place" and insisting on admission to a white bastion like Ole Miss? I don't remember. But I suspect she disapproved. I doubt that she heard the governor's speech on television just a few weeks before her journal entry, but I know she also would have disapproved of his insistence that

...there is no case in history where the Caucasian race has survived social integration. 

We will not drink from the cup of genocide. ... [Mississippians] will never submit 

to the moral degradation, to the shame, and to the ruin which have faced all others who lacked the courage to defend their beliefs. No school in Mississippi will be integrated while I am your governor.

        (Governor Ross Barnett in a televised speech, September 13, 1962 in Jackson MS)

Such blatant, explicit racism shocked and disgusted that tenderhearted girl. We were Christians, after all, and Christians should be nice. My family always treated black people politely, kindly. We were never guilty of such unabashed hatred. But what about the biblical mandate to Love your neighbor as yourself? Looking back, I can see clearly that we loved our black neighbors as below ourselves, as less than ourselves, as worthy of our benevolence but not worthy of our friendship.

Our racism was benevolent.

That is what a perspective of hierarchy can do. Hierarchy says: "There is a natural up and down order to the world." Hierarchy says: "A place for everyone and everyone in her place." Hierarchy can even insist that those who are lower on the hierarchical tower deserve care and kindness and an appropriate chance. But hierarchy can never say that all people are equal. Even though it tries to.

Separate but equal.

That made sense to me. I accepted the explanation that people could be separate in function, yet equal in value. I accepted the argument that God loved all people equally while assigning various people to different spheres of participation within the home and church. But, years later, when I could no longer ignore the radical call of God in my life, when I realized that the identical rationale defined what I could or could not do as a woman, who I could or could not be in God's church, I was forced to question the conventional wisdom and go back to the Bible in order to understand God's perfect plan for all human beings.

So when this conservative preacher's daughter broke away from the neat cultural expectations of her world and boldly stepped out of her "proper place" and into ordained ministry, I demonstrated my growing belief that equal value demands equal participation, I serendipitously discovered the relationship between my own God-ordained place as a woman and the equitable place God designed and desires for all human beings.

My own journey began when I confronted the conventional wisdom of the church of my childhood and wrestled with the biblical texts myself. Beginning in the Garden, I tried to discern what the Bible says about God's original intention for humans, what God created humans to be before the “Fall.” The truth I discovered (the truth that changed my life) is that God created all humans to be equal both in value and in function.

Then God said, "Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth." So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. God blessed them ... (Genesis 1:26-28).

The Genesis narrative describes two equal beings, fresh from the hand of the Creator, assigned to share equally in the task of caring for the earth. Even the second story, from Genesis chapter 2, relates poetically how God took the original human (not a male) and made two humans, male and female; how God "split the adam," so to speak, so they truly were "bone of bone and flesh of flesh," as the astonished male proclaimed when he met his new partner. The two were blessed with the gift of procreation and the gift of meaningful work. In the beginning, in a perfect world, God assigned equal work to the humans in equal measure. The text does not support any suggestion that the male had more responsibility than the female.

Whichever story one reads, the message is clear: God expected each person, male and female, to function equally as partners, to carry his and her equal share of the responsibility for the rest of God's creation.

So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate (Genesis 3:6).

The story goes on and the humans sinned - sinned most basically against God - but they also sinned against each other. It was in that sin that God's original design was perverted, that the humans became twisted and deceived. The woman and the man rejected partnership, rejected God's design, and damaged forever the relationship with their Creator and with each other. Their sin begat natural consequences that issued like thorns from their decisions.

The “curse” then was not God's pronouncement of "plan B"; rather, the curse was God's prophecy of the inevitable consequences of their choices. God's intended equality was twisted into hierarchy so that the male, who was given dominion in the earth along with the woman, would now take dominion over the woman. God's created equality was perverted into hierarchy so that the female, who was equally responsible for leadership within the created world, would now be "desiring" the leadership of a husband.

God did not change the original design of creation; we did.

This theological perspective of the Genesis narratives changed my life. When I recognized how God had created equality in the Garden, when I realized that God re-created equality in the cross, I had no choice but to submit myself to God's design of equality. When I realized that partnership was part of the blessing and hierarchy was part of the curse, I could do no less than reject hierarchy for what it truly is - our own cultural accommodation to our sinful humanity.

Throughout Scripture, stories of how God's people have related to each other demonstrate the challenge and the tension of living in a fallen world, seeing life through damaged lenses, and struggling to make sense of their relationships with God and with each other. Sometimes the biblical authors break free from the gravitational pull of hierarchy and demonstrate amazing insights and radical egalitarian behaviors. The Ephesian writer speaks specifically about the hostility between Jews and Gentiles, but his description of God's reconciliation provides brilliant support for a theology of equality that applies to men and women, to slaves and free, to "brown and yellow, black and white."

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it (Ephesians 2:13-16).

The cross. The great equalizer. Its beam reaches to heaven, reminding us of God's amazing reconciliation that brings us back into community with God. Its cross-timber reminds us that all humanity stands equally condemned and equally redeemed. We are one in our fallenness; we are one in our salvation. In the cross, hierarchy is abolished and we are re-created into one new humanity.

For the most part, however, God's people redeemed though we are, still struggle with twisted lenses that keep us from seeing the unity that God has created. God's people still grapple with the powerful deceptions of culture that subtly but consistently re-create hostility instead of peace. As I write these words in 1998, hundreds of thousands of Promise Keepers are fresh from their emotional experiences in Washington, D.C. One of their most basic promises is to foster racial reconciliation; ironically, a movement that hopes to make peace between the races has cultivated division between the sexes. Noble efforts to call men back to responsibility within the home are, unfortunately, perpetuating our ancient cultural accommodation to hierarchy by suggesting that the man is more responsible to care for the family than the woman is. Even though Promise Keepers' theology of headship preaches a servant leadership, their good intentions continue to create discomfort and caution among many thoughtful Christians because of the historical abuse of hierarchy. As these kinds of movements continue to stress the importance of keeping promises, I pray that they will continue to uncover the functional truths of God's promise in Jesus to "create in himself one new humanity ... thus making peace."

I was a middle-aged adult before I corrected my vision to see the world through the lens of equality. Hierarchy had taken such a hold on my perspective I could not see its bankrupt deceptions. I truly believed I was an equal member of my church community, even though I could not function equally. I fully believed I was in my proper place ("separate but equal"), because God had designed it that way. Now I see how hierarchy deceived me. Hierarchy was comfortable. Hierarchy seemed normal, and the consequent sexism within the church seemed appropriate and approved by God.

The sexism I have encountered in my own personal experience has been mostly benevolent, patronizing, almost imperceptible.

But benevolent sexism is still sexism.

And benevolent racism is still racism.

Now that I have chosen the lens of equality, I can see the subtle ways that the world and the church have kept people of different genders in their separate places. Now that I wear the lenses of equality, I can begin to identify the countless ways that the world and the church continue to keep people of different races and orientations in their separate places.

We can continue to make the tired argument that all people enjoy equal value in God's church, but until the church allows, encourages, even insists upon equal participation in the functional life of the body for everyone, we will continue to perpetuate a cultural accommodation to hierarchy. In order to be faithful to God's original design, the church must continue to fight for complete equality - an equality that is functional and practical and visible.

The challenge for God's church has always been to avoid being "conformed to this world, but [to] be transformed by the renewing of [our] minds, so that [we] may discern what is the will of God-what is good and acceptable and perfect" (Romans 12:2). 

Breaking away from the conforming molds of hierarchy in order to be transformed with new minds so that we may embrace God's will for equality for all people may seem awkward at first. We are humans, after all, with a deep bias for hierarchy. But we are also "new creations," the body of Christ, so discerning and following God's will for equality will always be the good and acceptable and perfect path for those of us who belong to Christ.

Charlotte Vaughan Coyle 1998.

This article was originally published in 1998 in Leaven, a journal of Pepperdine University.

"Submitting to Equality: One Women's Journey." Leaven: Vol. 6: Iss. 2, Article 11 (1998). Available at: http://digitalcommons.pepperdine.edu/leaven/vol6/iss2/11

This Article is brought to you for free and open access by the Religion at Pepperdine Digital Commons.

All Scripture citations come from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible.

Charlotte's Pastoral Letter to Sen. Ted Cruz

January 13, 2015

Dear Senator Cruz,

I received your recent letter with reports of your work in the 114^th Congress, so here is my letter in response. This is not so much a point-by-point political argument about the ways you and I would approach our state’s problems and solutions (although you and I do seem to have very different opinions on many of these matters). Rather, since I am a Christian minister, this will be more a pastoral reflection on the priorities of Jesus Christ and how his values might help you and your fellow senators better care for “the least of these” in America. (You probably recognize Jesus’ words in the parable from Matthew 25).

Of course there are countless differences between Jesus’ time and ours, but there are some timeless attitudes he demonstrated and some abiding charges he delivered to those of us who dare to wear his name: Christ-ian.

Since you are a man who speaks openly about your Christian faith and since I am a pastor, I want to believe you are continually seeking to grow in these fundamental Christian disciplines.

1) Love God. Love Neighbor

Jesus was pretty clear about priorities – his and ours: we are called to love God with heart, soul, strength and mind and we are expected to love our neighbors as ourselves. He was also clear about who is a neighbor and how we are to be neighbor. (See the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke chapter 10.)

In a nation such as America, our citizens are free to understand and worship God as they see fit. As a Christian minister, I am grateful for the bold vision of our Constitution and the way our First Amendment protects people from state and federal incursions into our religious practices. I believe very strongly in the separation of church and state because I see how marrying religion and politics has deeply compromised both our government and the church of Jesus Christ.

That said, Jesus’ call to be the neighbor and to love our neighbors can inform and improve how Americans live together in our society for the common good. A Christian discipline for the love of neighbor demands an unselfish generosity and a willingness to sacrifice our own preferences and convenience for the good of the other.

I am deeply concerned about our neighbors here in Texas and across America; I am concerned that their own government is working against them instead of for them. Those who finally have access to affordable health care may lose it if you have your way; the push to repeal the Affordable Care Act sounds selfish. Your pledge to work against immigration reform instead of working with President Obama to find solutions sounds foolish. Your effort to undermine our public school systems sounds short sighted. Such actions would undo the progress we have made as a community of neighbors, a community that looks out for one another: for “the widows and the orphans,” for the “little ones,” for the “strangers" among us, for those who are trampled under the feet of the rich and powerful. Your programs and policies that increase the benefits of the privileged and compromise the possibilities of the underprivileged are not the way of the Christ.

2) More is Less and First is Last

As you read your Bible, surely you have read Jesus’ words that proclaim “the least among you is the greatest;” that the “last shall be first and the first shall be last.” Throughout the story of Scripture, God has always honored humility. One of my favorite biblical characters is Jesus’ own mother who responded to the news of the coming Messiah with a prophetic song:

God has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

and lifted up the lowly;

God has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the rich away empty.

Mary’s Magnificat celebrates God’s mysterious, upside-down-way in the world that honors the poor and lifts up the oppressed. When followers of the Christ acknowledge that same reality in our own day, then we too must do whatever we can to speak for those who have no voice, to stand for those who have no standing, to align ourselves with those who are maligned and dismissed by the rich and the powerful.

I am deeply concerned about the gridlock in Congress that keeps you from cooperating together to work for the common good of ALL the people of America. These days – even more than most - you elected officials of Congress seem to be representing your own interests instead of the interests of those you are elected to represent. There is too much self-promotion and preening, too much self-righteousness and condemnation.

There is too much hubris and not near enough humility. Your inflammatory language is inexcusable. Your refusal to compromise with your colleagues is harmful. Your unwillingness to consider all sides of any issue is small minded. Your alignment with the rich and powerful is not the way of the Christ.

Senator Cruz, this effort of mine to do pastoral and theological reflection on the work and role of our elected officials is my resolution for this new year. I have complained enough; now I will be sending my insights and suggestions directly to you since you are my Texas Senator. I plan to follow your work and to communicate with you frequently throughout the year.

Please feel free to communicate back to me – preferably with a real letter (rather than a form letter) so that we can have an honest dialogue about the appropriate intersections of faith and public life in America.

Grace and Peace,

Reverend Charlotte Vaughan Coyle

Paris TX

Charlotte is an ordained minister within the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).