I’m a Hoosier, Indiana born and bred, on most July Sundays I can be found at church. On the best Sundays, the benediction ended, I then head for sweet corn at home from the farmer’s market. Bought the day before from a young Amish teen in the City Hall parking lot. Straw hat, gray shirt, grayer suspenders, blond curls and a sneaky, shiny smile. From down near Paoli most likely, I surmise – the corn and the smile. “Picked this morning” he offers. “In the moonlight?” I tease, in return. We trade a chortle. The grin and banter worth the entire purchase price alone; but I win, as I carry off a half-dozen ears. “He smiles with his eyes, he does.” I heard it growing up, like him I bet.
Early July, Indiana sweet corn is extra-scrumptious; I prescribe as it a necessary antidote to the extra-boneheaded politicians who now scour the state dressed in a toxic religious wardrobe. Deceptions attached to their bigotry like the sown-on-shadow of Peter Pan. This summer sweet corn is better. Much needed offset to the racism, so appreciated in the summer heat of ’25.
Worship was delicious too this Sabbath. A needed cure offered, beginning with soaring music. A fanfare for a refurbished organ followed by hymn texts full of ancient, hard-won truths. The anthem is fetched from the apothecary of faith. “It is well with my soul” lingers still. Take that, you many poisons of the soul, you dividers of a nation.
The stage is set by the liturgy – we are called to hope and not despair; and, then a sermon, chasing down our shared deeper story. Listen again to Naaman’s healing. His trust in his own power, his military hardware, is insufficient to bring peace. No, no, no, empathy is not “a bug in the system,” Mr. Musk. Empathy marks true humanity. A “healed femur is the sign of the beginning of civilization” Margaret Mead once noted. The wonderful irony of the powerful finding healing and justice by finally heeding the counsel of a young girl. She brings a four-star general to his knees and his senses… and more than an outer leprosy is healed. She did it well, both the young girl and the preacher this Sunday. We are reminded that interdependence is more to be valued than independence.
It’s corn-bred wisdom that hubris and arrogance will end in dust. True in Elisha’s time and a lesson to be relearned now. God’s preference is for the small and marginal ones. The narrative is told over and again. Let those with ears-to-hear, listen. Too bad uncle Donald was on the golf course and missed learning how his story will end. The closing hymn offers again this poetry of hope. Then I head home to sweet corn and a nap.
O God of every nation, Of every race and land,
Redeem the whole creation With your almighty hand.
Where hate and fear divide us And bitter threats are hurled,
In love and mercy guide us And heal our strife torn world.
Rain begins as we walk home… “good for the sweet corn,” I think...
I’m a Hoosier, Indiana born and bred, on most July Sundays I can be found at church. On the best Sundays, the benediction ended, I then find sweet corn from the farmer’s market. Bought the day before from a young Amish teen in the City Hall parking lot. Straw hat, gray shirt, grayer suspenders, blond curls and a sneaky, shiny smile. From down near Paoli most likely, I surmise – the corn and the smile. “Picked this morning” he offers. “In the moonlight?” I tease, in return. We trade a chortle. The grin and banter worth the entire purchase price alone; but I win, as I carry off a half-dozen ears. “He smiles with his eyes, he does.” I heard growing up, like him I bet.
Early July, Indiana sweet corn is extra-scrumptious; I prescribe as it a necessary antidote to the extra-boneheaded politicians who now scour the state dressed in a toxic religious wardrobe, attached to their bigotry like the sown-on-shadow of Peter Pan. This summer sweet corn is better. Much needed offset the racism, appreciated in the heat of ’25.
Worship was delicious too this Sabbath. A needed cure offered, beginning with soaring music. A fanfare from refurbished organ followed by hymn texts full of ancient, hard-won truths. The anthem is fetched from the apothecary of faith. “It is well with my soul” lingers still. Take that, you many poisons of the soul, you dividers of a nation.
The stage is set by the liturgy – we are called to hope and not despair; and, then a sermon, chasing down our shared deeper story. Listen again to Naaman’s healing. His trust in his own power, his military hardware, is insufficient to bring peace. No, no, no, empathy is not “a bug in the system,” Mr. Musk. Empathy marks true humanity. A “healed femur is the sign of the beginning of civilization” Margaret Mead noted. The wonderful irony of the powerful finding healing and justice by finally heeding the counsel of a young girl. She brings a four-star general to his senses… and more than an outer leprosy is healed. She did it well, both the young girl and the preacher. We are reminded that interdependence is more to be valued than independence.
It’s corn-bred wisdom that hubris and arrogance will end in dust. True in Elisha’s time and a lesson to be relearned now. God’s preference for the small and marginal ones. The narrative is told over and again. Let those with ears-to-hear, listen. Too bad uncle Donald was on the golf course and missed learning how his story will end. The closing hymn offers again this poetry of hope. Then I head home to sweet corn and a nap.
O God of every nation, Of every race and land,
Redeem the whole creation With your almighty hand.
Where hate and fear divide us And bitter treats are hurled,
In love and mercy guide us And heal our strife torn world.
Rain begins as we walk home… “good for the sweet corn,” I think...
Brokenhearted. In prayer for those suffering the wildfires in Los Angeles area. So many friends there, great folks in wonderful neighborhoods now destroyed or threatened.
Sad to learn the lovely Altadena United Methodist Church building was destroyed. I think of friends in, and nearby, who must be suffering and facing great uncertainty. Altadena UMC is a place where my dear friends, Rev. Mark Trotter and Rev. Yvonne Boyd served in different eras over the years. They built and sustained a strong and welcoming congregation.
In Altadena, the Jet Propulsion Lab and many graceful parks, museums, and educational centers are nearby. It was a place where racial exclusion and redlining was exposed in the 1960s and for many decades has been rich in racially diverse neighborhoods. You see, this fire may be destroying more than homes — also lost is the experience of neighbors who shared gifts brought by differing cultures and life experiences.
Of course, Pasadena is close by – we think of friends there. At Huntington Library and Gardens, Fuller Seminary, several other congregations. There also is the California Pacific UMC conference headquarters. Dear ones, we treasure, are facing threat in Pasadena… some have been put on alert to prepare to evacuate. We pray for them.
So many, now vulnerable areas, and friends at risk — Glendale, Hollywood, Santa Clarita and, of course, the Palisades. We commit to share our small financial support that can go for ALL those who suffer today. We are proud to know that United Methodists have offered shelter and outreach to those facing this tragedy. See: https://www.calpacumc.org/news/cal-pac-fire-updates-january-8-2025/
Other denominations, churches, mosques and synagogues also now offer spaces of refuge and care. In the midst of ongoing infernos, there is a broader and deeper expression of common humanity. Some reports of looters, but these pale in comparison to the expansive acts of neighborly care.
++++++ And one other word… what can be said of the moral depravity of the incoming president? Isn’t he a looter of our commonweal? Aren’t his words robbing us of the chance to honor others and practice neighbor-love in a time of need, absent of ugly incrimination. I say “yes.” He is a looter of the common good.
He, who always presents himself as the greatest of victims, shows little or no empathy for those who are truly suffering. He blames, distorts, creates division and uses this tragedy to score political points. Why this perpetual need to harm? What inferno has burned across his soul and left this abyss that lacks humanity or humility? Is it that he is afraid of a tragedy taking away his place on center stage?
Surely there are many reasons for this tragedy… too little water storage? But there was also too much rain in recent years contributing to increased vegetation. Vegetation that turned into fuel over months of draught. Of course, there are questions of building such large communities in desert areas and diverting water away from natural flow. Ask the folks in Mexico about the trickle of the Colorado River that was once a wide and potent source of life and beauty. There are also profound questions about our national and international dependance on petroleum that contributes to changes in our climate.
In recent years, taking a cue from folks like Wendell Berry and Wes Jackson, I have sought to follow “a way of ignorance.” By this, they mean admitting there is so much we do not know, and MUCH to learn, as we journey ahead. We start with an awareness of much yet to be discovered. It keeps one honest and appropriately humble. Admitting, first, there is much to learn and to love. There is so much that is unknown about persons, communities and the natural world – and it also offers space for growth and discovery – space for delight.
Sadly, I also see that some chose a differing “way of ignorance.” This one is rooted in fear, arrogance and denial. This is an ignorance based in fear and the need to control. It blocks new insights, transformation, unity and joy. It persists in brokenness and grievance. I pray for the incoming president today, that he might be healed of this way of acting and behaving.
Brokenhearted, yet I also will wholeheartedly give my energies, in the limited years I have remaining, to joining the good work of others, like my United Methodist friends, in encouraging our nation and world toward a better way. I will name the “looters of the common good,” persons like Donald Trump, as I give thanks to the millions of witnesses who offer care, hope and new discovery, even in the face of tragedy.
I know the tyranny of numbers. How many? How much? In my work-life there were always such questions: What is the average in worship attendance, pastor? How large is your enrollment, seminary administrator?
Counting is deeply embedded in our culture; math is essential for a strong citizenry. I recall my children delighting in Sesame Street’s Muppet Count Von Count. Even so, the oft overlooked and more critical understandings are based in asking “what should be counted and to what purpose?” What are the essential measures for the health of a congregation, school, government program or social service agency? A hospital can report the number of beds, or the financial bottom line, but what of the morale of the staff, or trust patents have in a nurse or physician?
My dear colleague, Walter Wangerin, Jr., first alerted me to an overlooked theme in scripture. Reminding me that the fourth book of the Christian Bible is the “Book of Numbers” Walt noted that throughout the narratives, when the focus shifts from knowing the people to numbering them, danger is ahead.
In an astonishing fabrication, former President Donald Trump, claimed “No one has spoken to crowds bigger than me.” He said more people attended his January 6th, 2020 event prior to the attack on the capital building, than attended Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech. Truth is 250,000 gathered on the Capital Mall on August 28, 1963. It was a crowd five times larger. Think on this: how do these two speeches differ in purpose? Crowds gathered to do what? Was it to enrich and extend our democracy or to upend it?
The Gospels are filled with stories of crowds following Jesus, anticipating his every move. Some first century census taker reported 4,000 and 5,000 at meals. One of these stories breaks open the myth that size matters, as a small boy gives his lunch of five barley loaves and two fish (John 6) toward the feeding of everyone.
There is no doubt that crowd size is seen as an indicator of popularity and power. Adolf Hitler loved to brag about the size of his crowds in World War II Germany. However, there is another way to think of the gathering of people around a leader. Jesus of Nazareth, who often faced the press of crowds said: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them (Matthew 18:20 KJV). As to power and authority, this Jesus said, “You’ve observed how godless rulers throw their weight around, how quickly a little power goes to their heads. It’s not going to be that way with you. Whoever wants to be great must become a servant” (Matthew 20:26, MSG).
Those in our time who suggest Mr. Trump is God’s choice, have a problem bigger than his persistent lies; they have a Jesus problem. Jesus spoke of small gifts, shared in hope, as core indicators of God’s true purposes. God’s realm often was understood as yeast, seed, salt and light. Jesus looked out on the crowds with compassion and taught that love of God and neighbor was the highest good. Everyone counted. Bragging about crowd size and seeking division and fear for personal gain, not so much.
Like hundreds of cities across the United States, Bloomington, Indiana, my home, is a place where we face the challenge of unhoused persons surviving on our streets. Because we are a generous and caring community, our town is seen as a place of welcome. Sadly, it is also a place where the number of persons facing chonic homelessness continues to grow and our resources fail to offer hopeful ways forward.
What follows is a column for our local newspaper, The Herald Times. Perhaps there are some ideas here that could be of value as you seek to offer responses in your communities. Perhaps you have some suggestions that you can share to be helpful to us. Here is the column:
Missing Ingredients in Housing Assistance Plans
On Tuesday evening August 6th the Bloomington City Council received a “comprehensive” Housing Action Plan. It was presented by Bloomington Mayor Kerry Thomson, Mary Morgan, the director of Heading Home of South Central Indiana, and advocates from several service groups. It is an ambitious six-year plan designed to make street homelessness “brief, rare and non-repeating.” It is indeed a dramatic and critical step in the right direction, but comprehensive?
The plan is bold. As The Herald Times reports, it proposes “significant” investments coming from “multiple” sources. It will require increased dollars, imagination and durable civic commitment. The report is found at: headinghomeindiana.org/news/housing-action-plan/. It deserves the community’s immediate endorsement and financial investment. Seeking 1,000 low-rent housing units by 2027, and 3,000 such units by 2030, is a HUGE challenge. Adding ten additional Healthnet street outreach staff and many more case workers at existing homeless services is appropriate. We need such a commitment.
The idea of a moratorium on helping unhoused persons from out of town for a period is strong and distasteful medicine. Even so, it may be what is required while other communities, and the State of Indiana, do not act in more caring ways for the vulnerable among us all. A temporary moratorium to regain a balance and offer sufficient safe housing, healthcare and see an end to persons living on the streets deserves exploration. Such a step, so long as the commitment to dramatically increase low-income housing is also accomplished, could serve as a model for other communities in Indiana and beyond.
STILL, this is not a “comprehensive” plan. It is good. It is bold. It includes parties that have stood too long on the sidelines, parties like Indiana University and I. U. Health. But is it “comprehensive”? Nope, don’t think so.
Three elements are noticeably missing:
First, how will each of us, as citizens, in Bloomington, act in new and meaningful ways to support such a plan? More basically, how will we behave to understand that “these people” seen as “problems,” and “outsiders,” are part of us, our tribe, our social network, our family? As Kevin Adler and Don Burnes write in “When We Walk By: Broken Systems and the Role We Can Each Play in Ending Homeless in America,” the people we see as foreigners are persons with families – often they come from nearby biological families, and all are certainly a part of our larger human family. What reading, thinking, acting, praying might we do together as citizens to provide a witness as to a better way?
Second, aren’t faith communities essential in providing motivation, resources, volunteers, leadership, imagination and even shelter space (emergency and longer-term)? Why are they not at the planning table? Yes, a few “religious groups” are mentioned as “providers;” but I would argue any comprehensive plan would include faith communities as essential “stake holders” and critical to the designing and implementing any sustainable plan. What if this is not simply an economic, addiction or heath care issue? What if it is a spiritual one as well? By this I do not mean to suggest a moral failing of those without shelter, but rather, a spiritual failure of our community and nation. The irony, of course, is that many, dare I say most, of homeless assistance resources in Bloomington were initiated and have been largely undergirded by faith-based vision, volunteers and financial support. A good case can be made that faith groups and leaders have been missing-in-action in recent years as we have been too focused on our own congregations with too little focus on being good neighbors. Oh, there are some fine individual congregational programs, but working with others in a coordinated way? Not so much.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, there is no mention of how persons identified as “homeless” will be engaged in envisioning and implementing a “comprehensive” plan. Many, many, who are currently living on the streets bring gifts, insights, connections and experience to assist in making homelessness “brief, rare and non-repeating.” These folks without shelter have names. Any plan needs to be imbued with an understanding that working with vulnerable persons is critically different from doing for “them.” Rather than clients, patients or “the needy,” what might we do to act in ways that find a space where all of us can act as fellow citizens?
So-called Christian Nationalism appears to have mushroomed in our body politic. Books like Taking Back America for God (Andrew Whitehead and Samuel Perry) and The Kingdom, The Power and The Glory (Tim Alberta) document the spread and extent of this ideology across American faith communities. Is this new? Or is it reappearing after years buried in the subsoils of our common life?
Do your recall the l-o-n-g word Antidisestablishmentarianism? In elementary school I learned it was the longest word in the English language. Well, not quite. At only 28 letters, it now is said to be the fourth longest. I won’t try to spell or pronounce the top three. The folks at Merriam-Webster say it doesn’t qualify for a dictionary; it is so little used. Okay – but I have burned too many brain cells learning to spell it. Antidisestablishmentarianism arises from historic struggles in Britain over the role of religion in government. This word argues religion (the Church of England in this case) should receive special government benefits, support, patronage.
Increasingly unmerited claims that the United States was to be an exclusive Christian Nation are made. Stephen Wolfe’s book The Case for Christian Nationalism, widely read and oft cited, is a core effort in this “restorationist” project. This desire to return a simplistic narrative about our nation’s founding, our diverse communities of faith, and multiple cultural expressions is misleading, even antithetical to what Jefferson referred to as our “Great Experiment.” In fact, the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution (known as the Establishment clause) opens with the words, “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” Something fresh, never seen before, was being birthed with the American experiment. Something untethered to a monarch, or a single faith tradition was begun.
Evangelical scholar Kevin DeYoung acknowledges an understandable hunger among some Christians for something like Christian Nationalism; however, after reviewing Wolfe’s book, he concludes “Biblical instincts are better than nationalist ones, and the ethos of the Christian Nationalism project fails the biblical smell test.”
DeYoung offers a clear window on the rootage of Wolfe’s narrowly drawn and grievance informed “research” as he writes “The message—that ethnicities shouldn’t mix, that heretics can be killed, that violent revolution is already justified, and that what our nation needs is a charismatic Caesar-like leader to raise our consciousness and galvanize the will of the people—may bear resemblance to certain blood-and-soil nationalisms of the 19th and 20th centuries, but it’s not a nationalism that honors and represents the name of Christ.” He concludes“Christian Nationalism isn’t the answer the church or our nation needs.” (DeYoung, Kevin, “The Rise of Right-Wing Wokeism”, Christian Living, Nov. 28,2022)
As a teenager, in the early 1960s, I recall sermons warning if John Kennedy were elected, our first Roman Catholic President, he would receive orders directly from the Pope and the Vatican. Fortunately, a majority of U.S. voters didn’t buy that argument. Today, the benefits of Kennedy’s presidency and the tragedy of his assassination continues to shape and haunt our national self-understanding.
In my early adulthood (late 1960s and early 1970s), I heard the black evangelist Tom Skinner preach. He said “All the pictures of Christ were pictures of an Anglo-Saxon, middle-class, Protestant Republican. There is no way that I can relate to that kind of Christ.” (See Jamar Tisby, Footnotes, October 24, 2023.). Skinner painted the image of a white Jesus wrapped in an American flag. He was saying “the Jesus long marketed by the American church wasn’t a faithful representation of the Jesus of the Gospels.” Teaching in a United Methodist school in the Republic of Panama in these years further sharpened my awareness. Skinner was right.
Today’s Christian Nationalism continues to market a fraudulent version of the Christ. It is often linked to the “great replacement” theory that rests on the notion that immigrants and nonwhite, nonChristian persons (especially “Jewish elites”), are engaged in an international plot to take power away from those with birthright privilege in the United States. Do you remember the torchlight parade and the chant “Jews will not replace us” in Charlottesville, Virginia in 2017? Such entitlement beliefs are not only profoundly racist and antisemitic, but they are also neither faithful to U.S. history nor the Christian message.
Whether as Christians or patriotic Americans, or both, how shall we respond?
My friend, Lovett H. Weems, has outlined seven strategies “for responding to Christian Nationalism in measured and faithful ways.” (Leading Amidst Christian Nationalism, LEADING IDEAS, Lewis Center for Church Leadership, June 25, 2024). Weems offers a helpful overview especially reflecting on the church’s historic endorsement of a civil religion. He is clear about the dangerous ties to the racist agenda of many that Christian Nationalism brings. The strategies offered start with “Be Cautious” and conclude with advice to “Understand the broader social, historical and political landscape.” In between are calls to love of country, to be humble, to stay positive and focused, and to remind others that Christians are called to give witness. These are more a starting point than a guide.
Missed is an awareness of the multiple and diverse contexts and callings of Christian congregations. Few people understand this more than Weems. In many places a more robust response is appropriate. The cautious tone of these “strategies” reflects the tendency of many denominational leaders in recent years to avoid conflict. It reminds one of the crouching stances that have marked too many “leaders” in handling the recent divisions in United Methodism. Perhaps it is, as Weems admits, a “soft civil religion,” but it can none-the-less be misunderstood as a draping of the American flag across the shoulders of the cautious contemporary U.S. church. I suspect the author knows the suggestions offered focus more on what should be avoided and miss some options of what Can Be Done to faithfully respond to Christian Nationalism.
In future days I will offer what I believe may be more effectual responses. I close remembering the words of British Methodist leader Donald English when he said, “The world has enough salesmen of the Gospel. What we need is more free samples.”
The Indiana Conference of the United Methodist Church Clergy Session had ended and a childhood memory played across my mind. Perhaps you recall the game often played at picnics, or at elementary school recess. Children would race walking backwards toward a finish line ahead.
I remember some falls and trips and stumbles as I rushed in the opposite direction with backward steps. We were facing where we had been, glancing over the shoulder to make certain we were moving forward, careful not to land on our behinds. Too often my movements proved to be sideways rather than toward my goal.
The Indiana UMC proceedings and language were familiar. Newly ordained clergy were asked to commit to moving forward toward perfection in love. A good thing – Methodism’s understanding of sanctification – being perfected in love.
There were a set of newly determined behavioral standards presented. Thirty-six (36) pages of them! In small print! Coming down to those gathered from some unidentified Mount Saini and without Moses presenting them, they seemed odd and half-baked. The point was made that these “guidelines” were not to be used to police one another, rather these were provided to be clear about “expected personal conduct.”
Later some of us chuckled at this effort to “guide” this group with a document and suggested that 36-pages weren’t enough. Perhaps a 200-page or 300-page document might get closer to capturing our human frailties and failings more fully. Or perhaps there is another way to proceed based more on the Biblical patterns of relationship, narrative, Gospel. This document carried no mention of repentance, restitution or forgiveness. Precious little spoke to communal failings. There was no mention of a failure to visit in the neighborhoods, to offer communion to those in prison or hospital. There was no call to public witness against greed, racism or systemic abuses.
I looked across the sanctuary at St. Luke’s church that was filled with colleagues. Good and fine people they are. I realized that they, like me, were sometimes strong and wise, and often, also, we are “broken people.” I thought of a song by the Cincinnati based folk music band Over-the-Rhine, “All My Favorite People are Broken.” This stanza came to mind:
All my friends are part saint and part sinner We lean on each other, try to rise above We are not afraid to admit we are all still beginners We are all late bloomers when it comes to love
The assembled leaders up on the chancel for this gathering are well intentioned folks and, if honest, they are broken as well. They congratulated one another for service. Okay – it was deserved. Still, old-timers like me recall this was formerly the session when retirees had a couple of minutes to speak. Their brief (and sometimes not so brief) reflections were worth 1,000 pages of behavioral standards. At this session a couple of dozen retiree’s names were read and placed on the screen. No stories from their service were shared. Only seven new elders or deacons were welcomed. Shouldn’t there be some conversation about welcoming more persons into ministry for the future?
Nor was there mention of ways those currently in ministry were seeking to address the gun violence in neighborhoods nearby. There was no mention of the continuing tragedy of an opioid epidemic raging in rural communities, nor a word about the ways the state legislature is engaged in practices that favor the wealthy and disadvantage the poor in education, healthcare, or taxation. There was nothing in the 36-page document calling for pastoral attention to these matters.
The few mentions of the recent decision by the General Conference of the United Methodist Church to remove harmful language excluding LGBTQI persons were offered in a defensive context like backward facing, careful steps! Is it truly a welcoming of ALL in membership and ministry if made only in a backward facing defensive mode? The point was made that “traditionalists” are welcome. That is important, crucial, understandable. Who might be left out in this affirmation? Are persons who are pushing the limits of our current understandings of church and ministry also welcome? What of those who want to do more than talk about justice? Those who challenge the status quo?
I understand the fear, the need to control. I know my temptations to “slow walk” a witness in times of controversy. Thank-you-gifts were shared among those up front who were completing a term of service. Glad. Good people they; they have been faithful and careful in clergy evaluation and ordination. Still, it is strange this is called a “conference” and no conferring is done. The agenda is top-down, pre-arranged, cautious, from some cookie-cutter paradigm designed for control. We left with no story told about ministry in our urban and rural settings. No new story to tell. Looking across the room I thought of the remarkable gifts shared by these pastoral leaders in their communities. There was so much to celebrate since last assembled. One can hardly move quickly or effectively to offer a transforming message of the Gospel while walking backwards, in the hope of forward motion.
A research psychologist friend told me about epigenetic trauma a couple of years ago. Can the traumas of one generation be genetically passed on to the next? Not just environmentally but biologically? Might there be some influence/alteration on the DNA of offspring following extreme stresses on the parent? I thought it improbable, fantastical even; then began to discover the scientific research and was amazed. Rachel Yehuda writes in the Scientific American (July 1, 2022) of “How Parents’ Trauma leaves Biological Traces in Children.” The article makes modest claims, even suggesting some potential benefits; still it is clear this phenomenon is rooted in a growing body of research. Some report significant inherited vulnerabilities among children, as gene functions are altered by violence and trauma to a parent.
My research friend notes that over the past seventy years, generation after generation have lived in a time when foreign wars never ceased for long. For decades now gun violence and mass shootings have become a staple in our information diet. He conjectures that well over 60% of our societies’ population lives with some degree of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder or Depression. Significant increases in suicide rates and treatment for severe depression stand as evidence something has changed.
This has left me wondering about the United Methodist Church. What has been the impact of decades of disinformation and disagreement on the denomination and leaders? Following the decisions of the 2024 General Conference in Charlotte, removing the harmful language excluding LGBTQ persons from congregational care and leadership, the question of institutional epigenetic trauma weighs on my mind. Sociologists have long understood the phenomenon of “structural effects” or “institutional effects.” Persons are shaped, restricted, influenced, limited, or open based on the ecologies in which they reside and work. This has been evident in the responses of denominational leaders following General Conference. An ecology of abuse and division has prevailed in the denomination for decades. Much of it is carried out by well-funded advocacy groups like the so-called Institute for Religion and Democracy and Good News Movement.
The decisions in Charlotte, long overdue, offered a time of relief, celebration, joy. I was there – and found myself laughing and sobbing all at once. As some sang and hugged, there was a muted quality to the celebration. A good thing, I thought. It was not a time of gloating or retribution. As Steve Harper puts it, we need to be an “Un-reviling Methodist Church” to become, in truth and fullness a “United Methodist Church.” This spirit of forgiveness and opportunity was reflected in persons who spoke in favor of making space for congregations who had disaffiliated to return in the future.
Still, it seems, many denominational leaders were careful not to engage in too much celebration in Charlotte and upon returning home these “leaders” were more inclined toward defense. Many who quietly supported welcoming all into the church, returned home (to their local context – district or conference) with a more muted response. Their main theme became, “If you disagree with the decision in Charlotte, don’t worry, your local church doesn’t have to change. You can keep behaving the way you always have.” Meaning keep excluding as you will. This is to my understanding much more a PTSD response than imaginative leadership. The violence done by groups specifically organized to do damage has left its generational marks.
I can easily ask “Where is the courage? Where is the imagination for the future?” And I do. Even so, I am mindful that for decades groups organized to do damage on the UMC continue at their work. Even before we left Charlotte, there were forces publishing and on social media seeking to bully and diminish the joy that should otherwise accompany the new day of openness and welcome for United Methodists.
I don’t have an easy remedy to this institutional epigenetic trauma. My research friend recommends meditation, prayer, music, seeking calm, new collaborations, reaching out to others who have been wounded. In my experience imagination will require finding time for laughter and celebration. It will require an end to seeking to placate those who have been a part of the damage inflicted. Now is time for generational healing and for the imagination that will follow.
We are passing through a season of Ascension and Pentecost in the liturgical year. The fires of Pentecost continue to burn. Willie James Jennings of Yale Divinity School says of this season, “The revolution has begun.” Time to focus on the future. Time to admit our institutional PTSD and find care in one another and in our core and gracious identity as United Methodist.
Whether national politics or elementary school, we observe bullies and victims. It is not a new phenomenon. Seventy years ago, at West Spring Street School in New Albany, Indiana – I saw it – and felt it – on the playground. This ancient human reality goes all the way back to Cain and Abel, Joseph and his brothers, King David and Uriah, Pharoah and the Israelites, or King Herod or his wife murdering John the Baptizer. Bullies and victims are forged deeply into our emotional and moral foundations.
Literature is built on the anti-hero, victim, and hero motiff. It is a delicious formula that fits well in literature, movies, and television series. Still, this easy pattern is missing something critical and complex. It is the place of responsibility. It is the paradox of the cross. As H. Richard Niebuhr noted in his classic “The Responsible Self” (1963) ethical behavior requires sorting through the ambiguity and distortions of real life. Ethical behavior requires attention to a universal community and honest observation of the best intentions and failures brought by each and every actor.
A victim can often turn into the bully; the research is clear. The story of the man bullied at work who comes home to kick the dog is a familiar one. Most adult abusers were abused as children. Limiting our frame to either bully or victim is a gestalt that has gained a wide purchase in our society. It is the core “stuff” of the MAGA movement. It plays out in the courtroom, city halls and, even in the church. Politicians market in meanness. Tough talk and threats are confused as “strong leadership.” On the other side many can only see themselves as victim. So much of our social service efforts and congregational life assumes a primary task to rescue the victim from the bully – and, of course, we are to be cast as heroes rescuing the victim.
In the wake of the trial of United Methodist Bishop MinervaCarcaño there are persons on each side suggesting they have been victimized – and “the other” was a bully. What’s missing? I would argue it is responsibility to the larger community. Was it a struggle over power, gender, culture, money? Perhaps all of these, yes. How did we arrive at the point when good folks on each side are to be sorted into the “bully/victim” divide? Perhaps one party was unwilling to seek a responsible remedy before going to trial. Perhaps both parties were unwilling. But here we are… still living in the bully/victim wilderness.
There are many ways forward. (Many will point to Matthew 18 counsel on how handle a dispute. It is a good place to begin.) However, I will start by borrowing from Robert Greenleaf’s notion of Servant Leadership. He writes of a servant leader’s responsibility in this way: “The best test, and difficult to administer, is: do those served grow as persons; do they, while being served, become healthier, wiser, freer, more autonomous, more likely themselves to become servants? And, what is the effect on the least privileged in society; will he or she benefit, or at least, will he or she not be further deprived?” (The Servant Leader, p. 7)
Might it be that while dollars, publicity, trust and energy were put into a drama of victimhood or bullying, the opportunity to act on the behalf of the least privileged among us has been lost?
In November 1954, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. preached his inaugural sermon at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama. In retrospect, it was his future ministry’s thesis statement[i]. His text? Romans 12:2: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect” (NRSV). The sermon was titled “The Transformed Nonconformist.” He was proposing that Christians sometimes needed to act in ways that didn’t always “go along to get along.” Civil, nonviolent nonconformity, was a preferred option when democratic institutions failed, and discrimination continued unabated.[ii]
There were scores of other faith leaders, expressing such a witness, prior to and alongside of, Dr. King. The church had a rich history of persons acting as Transformed Nonconformists.[iii] Urban Training Centers were active across the nation in the mid-1960s, most notably in Chicago, Detroit, and Cleveland. There were many models unfolding ranging from the East Harlem Protestant Parish in New York to Church of the Savior in Washington D.C., to Operation Push in Chicago. In Boston, Cleveland, Nashville, Atlanta, and Los Angeles such efforts were institutionalized and often funded by mainline denominations. In the rural south there was the witness of the Koinonia Farm in Georgia and Voice of Calvary in Mississippi.[iv]
In Indiana the Rev. Luther Hicks in Indianapolis founded Dignity Unlimited. Hicks, a pastor, also set up work with youth in a storefront outreach effort near Shortridge High School at 34th and Meridian. Hicks was arrested on several occasions for leading nonviolent protests over racial injustices. Urban legend has it that the “Methodist” bishop would call the “Methodist” mayor to intervene. Hicks’ crime? Seeking to de-escalate possible violence and “promoting patience and reason.”[v]
In earlier decades, Gary (Indiana) Central Methodist Church championed racial justice efforts as the Reverend S. Walton Cole encouraged members to confront their own prejudices, welcome new members from diverse backgrounds and march in demonstrations for equal pay and education. At Trinity Church in Muncie, Indiana, Rev. J. C. Williams’ activities in Civil Rights struggles lead to his candidacy for Mayor of Muncie as “Poor People’s Party Candidate”[vi]
Back to Evansville, and to the topic the closing of desegregation and the closing of inner-city schools, the counsel “You cannot fight city hall” was heard, and it was reframed to a need the importance of speaking directly to school administrators.[vii] In the process, changes did come. Culver School was not closed, and a new building was constructed. Elaine Amerson was elected to the county-wide school board where she served for eight years, three of them as board president. Resources that had been heavily directed to suburban schools were shared more equally across the school system. And, yes, county-wide busing did occur, while at the same time several “naturally racially integrated” schools continued to serve a neighborhood.
Despite the range of these efforts, little research, or documentation of the import of such faith-initiated efforts at transformation has been produced. Dr. King’s legacy endures. It has been revived by persons like the Rev. William Barber II. Taking a longer view, while significant advances have occurred, perhaps a deeper and wider story has gone untold.[viii] There has been little reporting on the breadth of the many faith-based activities.[ix]
Denominations have turned inward. The slow and critical work of building up neighborhood parishes appears pushed to the sidelines. Examples of genuinely interracial and multicultural congregational life are little-known or valued only at the margins in Mainline Christianity. The death of Dr. King in 1968 dealt a severe blow to the call made to the church in his “Letter from Birmingham Jail.” The time of Non-conforming Transformationalism abated but it has not disappeared.
In the wider culture, since Dr. King’s death, change has come fast and hard, resulting in questions as to the relevance of the church and much handwringing among church leaders. A decline in attendance began in the late 1960s. Baby Boomers emerged as a new and different demographic. At colleges and congregations on university campuses interest in church attendance declined dramatically at the end of the 1960s. Many campus pastors and priests point to 1967, or thereabouts, as a critical juncture when students who had once filled the pews began to disappear in large numbers from worship. Meanwhile, in urban neighborhoods, those expanded church facilities that had been built in the decades following WWII for all the children, were emptying out.
The Vietnam War, the birth control pill, and the weak response by churches to support the civil rights exposed how insular, self-absorbed, and out of touch religious institutions were in the culture. Going along and Getting Along had taken a toll. We were said to be entering “a post-denominational era.” The call of Dr. King and the work of scores of faith-based initiatives designed to engage the church in seeking transformation in society was seen more as an artifact than a calling.
For denominations these realities accelerated the anxious casting about for ways to find or retain relevance. There was a willingness to try many things to stop the growing loss of membership. Ironically, efforts to value and benefit by affirming a core denominational identity and neighborhood parish locations was typically missed or overlooked. The megachurch movement was off and running. It has served as a central hoped-for-solution among denominational bodies.[x] Now, in hindsight, it appears exclusive focus on a megachurch model was destined to be insufficient to the changes that continue.
Less attention was given to taking seriously the need for in-depth lay theological education. Popular narrow cultural ideologies, “seeker-friendly” worship that avoided symbols of sacrifice like a cross, along with contemporary music, mixed with safe political perspectives were the tail that wagged the theological dogs of this era. As church historian Martin E. Marty put it: “To give the whole store away to match what this year’s market says the unchurched want is to have the people who know least about the faith determine most about its expression.”[xi]
Especially notable, in the 1980s through the 2010s, were the more agile, drive in, folk-based religious mega-church expressions. Willow Creek Community Church in the Chicago suburbs or Mars Hill Bible Church in Michigan are often-cited examples. These “independent community church” expressions are now in second or third generations of leadership and appear to be going through their own identity crises — and decline. The recent exclusion of Saddle Back Church from the Southern Baptist Convention is worth considering as persons consider what the future of the megachurch will be.
The story of the megachurch in United Methodism is more complex. At places like the Church of the Resurrection in Kansas, St. Andrew UMC in Colorado, or Ginghamsburg UMC in Ohio, there have been deliberate efforts to encourage thoughtful theological discourse and support for nearby neighborhood parishes. Typically, however, these types of megachurch congregations are the exceptions among the large church expressions.
Anxiety was the driver. There was a widely held belief, a self-fulfilling prophecy in fact, that we had entered a post-denominational era. This anxiety was a symptom of what might be diagnosed as“Church Growth fever.” Such fear-based views and flight to “safe places” continues. There have been few efforts to stop to consider what gifts may already be present in smaller and more local parish settings. Megachurch models were advocated that were too often independent from a denomination’s core identity.[xii]
The response over the past four decades has only reinforced the self-focus and self-concern in many settings. Denominations and philanthropic entities focused attention on leadership training and congregational development. These efforts, while not bad in and of themselves, turn attention toward inwardly directed programs. They also, inadvertently perhaps, set up a system where pastoral performance is measured against the “successes” of the booming megachurch in the suburbs. Looking inward, it was the pastor or the congregation that needed to change to be “more valued.” One might say the time of Non-transformational Conformity had arrived.
Sadly, in many places, the value of neighborhood congregations was lost; the importance churches as a local center of informal gathering and values-production among residents living nearby was sacrificed. Starbucks, neighborhood eateries and bars now filled the civic void left behind in urban neighborhoods.
BUT WAIT, THERE IS MORE!
In many urban neighborhoods, congregations have survived, even prospered. They have persisted despite often being undervalued and overlooked.[xiii] While thousands of neighborhood congregations have disappeared, thousands of others are being transformed. Not all continue as worshipping communities only, or primarily. It is often not the church as known it in the past. Some places are more traditional but in almost all, there is a willingness to be Nonconforming Transformationalists.
There is a remarkable phenomenon, for example, of church buildings being transformed into low-income residences.[xiv] In other places congregations are building tiny houses on church property and are forming communities of care where church members build fellowship with persons finding health and spiritual care for chronic difficulties. There are at the same time new models of faith life bubbling up that don’t require a building, as in coffee shop Bible studies and parenting fellowship groups. There are new forms of believers assembling to “be transformed together” working on immigration reform or providing shelter or health care for low wealth persons that have begun and are beginning. These are signs of hope and joy and celebration. They are places where diversity is celebrated, where multicultural expressions are honored, and where everyone, no matter race or sexual preference, is welcome.
COMING NEXT: Parish-based Renewal and Seeing Christ in the Neighbor and Neighborhood.
[i] McCullough, Marcus, “Go Along to Get Along,” The Graduate Journal of Harvard Divinity School, 2023.
[ii] Passages from Romans chapters 12-15 have been cited to undergird both conformity and nonconformity with government practices across the centuries. In Romans 13:1ff, Paul seems to argue that Christians should simply submit to civil authority. However, King and others suggested Romans 12 set the terms for any such submission. When faced with evil institutions, conformity is predicated on the ever continuing the call for transformation? Discrimination, Jim Crow laws, lynching, unequal economic, societal, employment and education systems could and should be transformed.
[iii] Too often forgotten or overlooked were the many others who were part of Urban Training Centers shaping urban ministry around the country. Gibson Winter’s book The Suburban Captivity of the Churches helped set the stage as did his work with the Urban Training Center in Chicago. There were the folks like Clarence and Florence Jordan at Koinonia Farm and Gordon and Mary Cosby at Church of the Savior in Washington D.C. There was the ministry of Father Jack Egan for the Chicago Catholic Diocese and Vincent Harding with the Mennonite communities in Chicago and Atlanta. Folks like Don Benedict, Archie Hargraves, Bill Webber, and Letty Russell at the East Harlem Protestant Parish New York.
[iv] I mention these few, of many, because much of this history has been overlooked. Dr. King’s work, and that of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, was essential to the changes brought about by the civil rights struggle. At the same time there were dozens of localized ways people of faith were engaged in taking their faith to the streets.
[vii] We heard my supervisor’s admonition that one “can’t fight city hall” as a call “not to turn city leaders into the enemy.” This led to many lunches with school administrators and city officials. Some of the best allies in seeking more equity in public education came from teachers and administrators within the school system.
[viii] Examples come in many dimensions: In housing (Habitat for Humanity grew out of the witness of Koinonia Farm with Millard Fuller and Clarence Jordan in Georgia), with economic structures (e.g., Rev. Faith Fowler at Cass Community in Detroit provides a model, as does John Perkins with Christian Community Development Associations, or incubator businesses out of several congregations), and resources linking spirituality and social action continue (e.g., Fr. Richard Rohr’s at the Center for Action and Contemplation and Rev. Jim Wallis’ leadership at the Sojourners in Washington, D.C.).
[ix] Research waits to be done. In the early 1970s, for example, Project Understanding looked at the efficacy of programs designed to bring racial change through religious congregations – little has followed.
[x] Dr. Scott Thuma at Hartford Seminary has done considerable research on the rise (and decline) of the megachurch phenomena. See: mhttp://hirr.hartsem.edu/megachurch/research.html.
[xii] It is not surprising that many of the same folks who pushed a singular focus on tinkering with the patterns of congregational life warned we were entering “a post-denominational era.” From “Keys to Growth” and the “Habits of Successful Congregations” the remedies proposed included more parking, new member campaigns, management by objectives, leadership training, changing music or moving the location of the congregation to a “better place.” Long established denominational connections or linkages with other institutions in a community were not highlighted. Mostly, the unspoken assumption was that larger congregations of like-minded people were the answer. Seldom was there a focus on the parish surrounding the church – and when there was such a focus, the parish was seen as a place of scarcity, even danger. A place needing outside help rather than a resource for congregational vitality.
[xiii] Some researchers speak of these examples of heath where there is perceived poverty and decline as “positive deviance.” I choose to see it as the work of the Holy Spirit.
[xiv] A remarkable initiative is being carried out by the United Methodist Foundation in the New England Annual Conference where “redundant” church buildings are being evaluated as places for potential residences or for new ministry/mission sites.
Hands of the Strong 