dewdrop_world
04-18-2006, 10:37 PM
As often happens, it's late and as I sit down to write this, so I'm not sure if it will make as much sense as I hope. Please be gentle with me if I have lapsed!
I've had a lot of thoughts bouncing around all day which kind of tie together the last equality ride action, my experiences on the United Methodist bulletin board, and what I see as the central Christian message. That's kind of a lot, so I guess this will be a start.
To my recollection, Jesus lost his temper only once in the gospel story, when overturning the money changers' tables in the temple. (If I'm incorrect in that, please set me right!) What interests me about the story is not what it says about protest (nonviolent or otherwise), but rather against whom Jesus was protesting and for what reason. For it's telling that the only group to receive Jesus's wrath in the Gospels are the church officials of his time. As such the story can also be a cautionary tale to people who position themselves as religious authorities today.
The interpretation I was raised with holds that the Pharisees had corrupted the practice of religion by charging exorbitant fees for the supplies needed for ritual sacrifice--a kind of spiritual extortion. Since we don't require anyone to buy expensive gadgets and trinkets to pray, we might think we're off the hook. But I think the same kind of corruption is in evidence today, only using different terms and involving different capital.
The scribes and Pharisees put themselves in the role of God's gatekeepers. Like Heidi Klum on Project Runway, they could decide who is in, and who is out. It's pretty obvious to us today that they used the wrong criteria for that decision--powerful leaders were in. The rich were definitely in! And the poor and suffering--well, if God liked them so much, they wouldn't be in such bad shape, would they? Criminals? Evil. Prostitutes? Immoral. And tax collectors? How gauche.
Today we recognize it as a barbaric perversion of religion. The people who most needed grace were excluded from it, in the only place that could have offered it. Jesus's fresh vision offered hope. But inevitably, communities formed around it, and the communities hardened into institutions with their own power structures. When that happens, there's always the risk that the new institutions will repeat the mistakes of the old. That our culture today is so different from the culture of Jesus's time can have the unfortunate effect of blinding us to subtler parallels.
Today's churches act like gatekeepers at times, not so materially but more in the realm of doctrine. It's no longer a matter of keeping the "wrong" people out, but rather keeping the "wrong" ideas out. And when there is a conflict between doctrine and the core of some people's lives--when someone's way of loving, manner of prayer or experience of divine grace does not fit into a church's doctrinal framework--the wagons circle instantly and it is very clear who is out. People who might have brought unique gifts and insights to a community find that they will be welcome in the community only if they throw the gifts away and turn their back on the insights of a lifetime.
That was never Jesus's way. Now, in too many places, it is the Christian way, however. I keep hoping for Christians to rise out of their complicity with this reversal, but sadly the natural human tendency to establish an "in" crowd is not easily overcome.
The NCU sermon on the equality ride is a gatekeeper action. Members of the community hear it as defending the principles of the community. To me it's a rejection, not only of my sexual orientation, but of my spirituality, my experience of God's grace, and of my life and testimony. No matter how lovingly the defense is phrased, you can't eliminate the subtext, which is that nothing I've done, seen or lived matters one whit.
The UMC bulletin boards really brought this home for me. For many people over there, it's simply axiomatic that their way is the right way, and that anyone who experiences God differently is misguided at best. I tried very hard to open up common ground between my experience and theirs, and while I'll never know how many people understood what I was saying (Internet forums seem to draw out disagreement more than concord!), my optimism is fading. The door is closed and the gates are locked.
Before spending time on that bulletin board, I would have denounced equality ride's latest action as rash and confrontational. Now, though, I understand why they did it. I, too, have experienced the closed door of Christianity. I, too, feel powerless as I watch my native faith (Catholicism) shutter the door ever more tightly and pile gilded padlock upon gilded padlock. I see that I'm asked to sacrifice my unique gifts so that others can be spared the responsibility of questioning received wisdom. It's an unconscionable sacrifice, and I see now, quite clearly, that reasoned discussion and honest testimony may simply not be enough. To take Jesus's example seriously, rage is an appropriate response when the church closes its doors to brethren.
I realize this isn't a sufficient "defense" of the latest action. However, we are being asked to understand NCU students' pain without any assurance that our pain will be understood in time. So I call on those who are upset by these recent events to follow Jesus's example and open the church doors, just enough to hear the cries outside. That would make it a beginning, not an end. It is entirely in your hands.
James
I've had a lot of thoughts bouncing around all day which kind of tie together the last equality ride action, my experiences on the United Methodist bulletin board, and what I see as the central Christian message. That's kind of a lot, so I guess this will be a start.
To my recollection, Jesus lost his temper only once in the gospel story, when overturning the money changers' tables in the temple. (If I'm incorrect in that, please set me right!) What interests me about the story is not what it says about protest (nonviolent or otherwise), but rather against whom Jesus was protesting and for what reason. For it's telling that the only group to receive Jesus's wrath in the Gospels are the church officials of his time. As such the story can also be a cautionary tale to people who position themselves as religious authorities today.
The interpretation I was raised with holds that the Pharisees had corrupted the practice of religion by charging exorbitant fees for the supplies needed for ritual sacrifice--a kind of spiritual extortion. Since we don't require anyone to buy expensive gadgets and trinkets to pray, we might think we're off the hook. But I think the same kind of corruption is in evidence today, only using different terms and involving different capital.
The scribes and Pharisees put themselves in the role of God's gatekeepers. Like Heidi Klum on Project Runway, they could decide who is in, and who is out. It's pretty obvious to us today that they used the wrong criteria for that decision--powerful leaders were in. The rich were definitely in! And the poor and suffering--well, if God liked them so much, they wouldn't be in such bad shape, would they? Criminals? Evil. Prostitutes? Immoral. And tax collectors? How gauche.
Today we recognize it as a barbaric perversion of religion. The people who most needed grace were excluded from it, in the only place that could have offered it. Jesus's fresh vision offered hope. But inevitably, communities formed around it, and the communities hardened into institutions with their own power structures. When that happens, there's always the risk that the new institutions will repeat the mistakes of the old. That our culture today is so different from the culture of Jesus's time can have the unfortunate effect of blinding us to subtler parallels.
Today's churches act like gatekeepers at times, not so materially but more in the realm of doctrine. It's no longer a matter of keeping the "wrong" people out, but rather keeping the "wrong" ideas out. And when there is a conflict between doctrine and the core of some people's lives--when someone's way of loving, manner of prayer or experience of divine grace does not fit into a church's doctrinal framework--the wagons circle instantly and it is very clear who is out. People who might have brought unique gifts and insights to a community find that they will be welcome in the community only if they throw the gifts away and turn their back on the insights of a lifetime.
That was never Jesus's way. Now, in too many places, it is the Christian way, however. I keep hoping for Christians to rise out of their complicity with this reversal, but sadly the natural human tendency to establish an "in" crowd is not easily overcome.
The NCU sermon on the equality ride is a gatekeeper action. Members of the community hear it as defending the principles of the community. To me it's a rejection, not only of my sexual orientation, but of my spirituality, my experience of God's grace, and of my life and testimony. No matter how lovingly the defense is phrased, you can't eliminate the subtext, which is that nothing I've done, seen or lived matters one whit.
The UMC bulletin boards really brought this home for me. For many people over there, it's simply axiomatic that their way is the right way, and that anyone who experiences God differently is misguided at best. I tried very hard to open up common ground between my experience and theirs, and while I'll never know how many people understood what I was saying (Internet forums seem to draw out disagreement more than concord!), my optimism is fading. The door is closed and the gates are locked.
Before spending time on that bulletin board, I would have denounced equality ride's latest action as rash and confrontational. Now, though, I understand why they did it. I, too, have experienced the closed door of Christianity. I, too, feel powerless as I watch my native faith (Catholicism) shutter the door ever more tightly and pile gilded padlock upon gilded padlock. I see that I'm asked to sacrifice my unique gifts so that others can be spared the responsibility of questioning received wisdom. It's an unconscionable sacrifice, and I see now, quite clearly, that reasoned discussion and honest testimony may simply not be enough. To take Jesus's example seriously, rage is an appropriate response when the church closes its doors to brethren.
I realize this isn't a sufficient "defense" of the latest action. However, we are being asked to understand NCU students' pain without any assurance that our pain will be understood in time. So I call on those who are upset by these recent events to follow Jesus's example and open the church doors, just enough to hear the cries outside. That would make it a beginning, not an end. It is entirely in your hands.
James