Little Donkey Sunday: this is what pastor Dan Caldwell at the Sacred Heart congregation in Bloomington, Indiana called it. Dan suggested this was a better name for the Sunday before Easter than Palm Sunday. I think he is right. Dan explained the waving of palms was mentioned only in John’s Gospel, but the picture of Jesus mounting a little donkey or colt is offered each of the gospels.
The parade for Jesus took place on the east side of Jerusalem, coming in from the Mount of Olives. The crowd gathered and shouted their hosannas. Jesus, feet dragging the ground, was riding a small donkey. What a picture! Is this a sign of conquest? On the other side of town, the Roman legions were riding their stallions and marching in columns to display their strength. The Romans were there to control any disturbances during Passover observances. One featured a man on a little donkey, a humble king as portrayed by the prophet Zechariah (Zechariah 9:9); the other was a spectacle of might, it was the military power of empire.
Over fifty years ago, my friend, Bill Wiley-Kellermann wrote of these two parades. Bill reminded us then – and now – of these two choices. People of faith face these today. Two divergent understandings of power, strength and right. Some like Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth pray for “overwhelming violence” against the people of Iran. He marries the strength of empire with a half-baked-Christian-theology that suggests faith is defended by Patriot Missiles. Missiles that smash the homes and lives of innocent people, killing thousands, even children, what power do they display? On the other side of our nation there are the little donkey people. More humble, even silly, these people march in No Kings demonstrations.
Pastor Dan has it right. He helps me as I struggle with the many empires of my world. I struggle to place my faith in the love of neighbor demonstrated by Jesus, riding on a little donkey. I struggle with more than empires of national or world politics. There are the empires of the social service industry, of university leaders who succumb to racism and narrow ideology, of social-media-billionaires with algorithms that do harm, or of religious denominational authorities.
In our religious denominational empires, that come replete with bishops, general secretaries, synod execs, and superintendents there are too few who seem to remember the power of the little donkey. Instead, not all – but too many, march into town parading new structures and corporate plans that are detached from common sense and grass roots relationships. There is little or no listening to those members in the pew. With top-down stylings and business-shaped designs, they hunger to consolidate power. Frightened by a loss of market share, these religious leaders miss the glory all-around of little donkeys ridden by the faithful.
Let me close with Mary Oliver’s poem “The Poet Thinks of the Donkey”
On the outskirts of Jerusalem the donkey waited. Not especially brave, or filled with understanding, he stood and waited.
How horses, turned out into the meadow, leap with delight! How doves, released from their cages, clatter away, splashed with sunlight.
But the donkey, tied to a tree as usual, waited. Then he let himself be led away. Then he let the stranger mount.
Never had he seen such crowds! And I wonder if he at all imagined what was to happen. Still, he was what he had always been: small, dark, obedient.
I hope, finally, he felt brave. I hope, finally, he loved the man who rode so lightly upon him, as he lifted one dusty hoof and stepped, as he had to, forward. + Mary Oliver
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Too often, I am “tethered by the tree as usual.” That tree is named EMPIRE. I miss the little donkeys and their riders all around me. Might I be brave, along with the donkey.
Admittedly naïve, the Christians at Broadway Church in Indianapolis in 1986 wrote: “As followers of Jesus Christ, responding to God’s love, our mission as the people of Broadway Church is to be a multicultural, Christian community that in its ministry seeks, welcomes, and values ALL people.” We knew it was a challenging aspiration, none-the-less the choice was to be a church that said it welcomed everyone – and acted like it. No matter. Everyone.
That congregation hasn’t done it perfectly, but over the decades it has claimed this mission. Still does. Yes, we were naïve, about our society, our world and the human condition… or were we?
Life would teach many lessons, some hard ones. The power of tribalism and fear-stoked resentment has too often overridden respect for all. It has even undermined alliances among western nations. Today we see bigotry and discrimination, dressed up as ICE agents with masked faces and camouflaged outfits, terrorizing our cities. Such threatening realities appear to trample on that simple mission statement.
Naïve? Surely so. Wrong as a witness to the love your neighbor message of Jesus? Not so then, not so, now. The Apostle Paul wrote of this in the earliest years of the church: “In Christ’s family there can be no division into Jew and non-Jew, slave and free, male and female. Among us you are all equal. That is, we are all in a common relationship with Jesus Christ. Also, since you are Christ’s family, then you are Abraham’s famous “descendant,” heirs according to the covenant promises.” (3:28-29 as rendered in The Message).
Twenty years ago, columnist David Brooks wrote of the coming death of multiculturalism. https://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/27/opinion/the-death-of-multiculturalism.html. Brooks spoke of what he saw as the excesses of multiculturalism where diversity was too easily celebrated and sometimes prevented true openness to all voices. He predicted multiculturalism would pass and we would see a “rebirth of liberal American nationalism.” I wonder what Brooks would say today of the trajectory he offered then?
Whether one points to the multiculturalism displayed in the Ruth and Naomi story, or to the multiple ways Jesus of Nazareth broke and transformed deep patterns of race, class or religious exclusion, or to the Pentecost events, multiculturalism and faithful Christian practices are intertwined.
At Broadway, shortly after that mission statement was written, a longtime member told me that grand old building of stone and stained glass might one day be gone, it might be razed, but the gift of knowing others who differed in a community of acceptance could never be erased. Perhaps that congregation at Broadway was not so naïve. It continues today as faithful to its mission. So do thousands of other gatherings and activities in the name of Jesus around the world. Naïve? Perhaps, it appears so, in the short term. However, as Eugene Peterson suggested, Christians are called to “a long obedience in the same direction.”
As I watch and listen to Donald Trump, Pete Hegseth, Stephen Miller, J.D. Vance, Marco Rubio and many others, I find myself mumbling “We have little boys with nuclear toys.” There is war in the Middle East, focused primarily on Iran, but also overwhelming nearby Gulf States and Lebanon. We watch in horror as the war drags on in Ukraine and can’t comprehend the destruction in Gaza.
Always quick to justify our actions we point to others who find their identities through evil actions. Moral decision making is flattened to either them or us and violence becomes the only tool at hand. There are so many terrorists: Hamas, Revolutionary Guard, ISIS, Hizballah, Al-Qaida or the Latin American drug cartels. The little boys with Tomahawk missile toys leap into the fray. They proclaim they are showing our nation how to “man up!” Core values and truly ‘acting like a gentleman’ is being trashed in the corridors of power.
With little or no regard for the complex unfolding of history, or intelligence (military or otherwise), we watch one debacle after another. Trust is destroyed with allies, cities like Minneapolis or Chicago see trust for local law enforcement sabotaged and more than 170 children are blasted away at a girl’s school in Iran.
Adam Serwer’s “The Cruelty is the Point” was published five years ago. It was a warning and a window into a more positive alternative. Serwer argues that Donald Trump’s language and behaviors (the racism, bullying, January 6th insurrection, anti-immigrant actions, misogyny) are broadly misunderstood. Trump is not the primary cause of our current challenges; rather, only a symptom of a deeper malady. Christians have a category for this: it is SIN.
Further, this sin, this evil is beyond that of any one individual’s moral failings. Something more profound is at play. Individuals matter, of course. Something all too widely misunderstood and discounted is also at play. We are wrestling with our social, corporate, institutional, and cultural sins – not carried by individuals alone. It is no wonder that the “little boys” and their followers argue there is no such thing as social justice. Yes, they seek to avoid the law for their personal actions, but it is more critical to see there is social immorality and illegality as well. It is no wonder these little boys and their allies suggest that whole groups can be labeled as cockroaches, as dirty, as criminals. It is no wonder persons can be targeted soley on the basis of skin color or language. These social sins require a corporate confession, an admission of responsibility and a change in more than an individual’s heart. They call for social equity and justice in our institutions, our culture and in the wholeness of our moral vision.
Fr. Richard Rohr writes helpfully about our failure to speak clearly about sin:
These are frightening times indeed. There is a way forward – past the sin in which we all are entrapped. The little boys with nuclear toys appear to gain pleasure from all they can destroy, whether through warfare, undermining our courts and justice systems, estranging international allies, cutting of health and food supplies formerly offered through USAID and more.
There is a better way – a way of repentance and respect for all. We Christians pray for it every time we pray the prayer Jesus taught, which begins “Our Father.” This is a social prayer as it continues Thy Kingdom Come Thy Will Be Done On Earth.
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.
I once was joined for lunch by two friends. One was head of a theological school. Our conversation was amicable enough. Although the seminary president took up much of our visit promoting a wide array of initiatives focused on leadership. Future pastors, chaplains, counselors and social service providers were being trained to be leaders! It appeared an effort to impress the other friend at the table — John McKnight.
John is one of the founders of the Asset Based Community Development approach to community organizing, (often abbreviated as ABCD). A primary assumption of ABCD is that good leaders start by listening to others and discovering gifts, passions, assumptions and assets. After lunch as we were saying our “good-byes,” John took the hand of the seminary president and kindly offered, “Maybe we should focus a little more on connector-ship and a little less on leadership.”
Connector-ship! That’s a missing ingredient in so much of human exchange. Universities, businesses, denominations and governments spend tens of millions of dollars and valuable personnel time training for leadership. This is not without merit and benefit. Still if one begins with a belief that energy and initiatives all flow from a top-down direction, a needed element for change is missing. Too often, there is the assumption that if the leader just has the right idea, program, language, skill set or practices, success will inevitably follow. McKnight, understands and teaches that human connection is a critical initial step in developing effective institutions and civil communities.
Don’t start identifying the needs of others you plan to fix without listening. First, listen to find the gifts, the capacities, the assets that folks already possess. Secondly, find that inner moral compass that must continually be developed throughout life by study, seeking fact-based reality, and interacting responsibly with others. This is a more enduring pathway forward.
I know a remarkable corporate leader who upon arriving at a troubled firm, went to folks on the picket line, the hourly workers, not just upper management and he listened. A follower of Jesus, he continued in prayer, study and worship. Leadership meant connector-ship, listening, learning and finding a moral compass. Shortly thereafter, he gathered the employees in the parking lot. Taking a copy of the company’s unfair policies and procedures manual, he dropped it into the flames of a barrel used those standing in the cold. It was not a concession; it was a modeling of connection. Hard work followed. He was saying, “We are listening, let’s talk.”
Recently I wrote a piece titled “Jesus Wrapped in a Flag.” Today’s Christian Nationalism promotes a fraudulent version of Christianity, and profoundly flawed revision of American History. Lovett Weems offered a set of counter recommendations titled Leading Amidst Christian Nationalism. While helpful, these are overly cautious words and appeared to assume there is only one paradigm for congregational life. It is a soft version of the very American Civil Religion that the author critiques. It is more of a starting point than a guide.
I thought of all the congregations and courageous religious leaders who are doing much more. They listen and share the hard truths discovered in their study and prayers about our responsibilities as Christians. They offer a more robust response to the profound dangers and misinformation widely dispensed by White Christian Nationalism and American Catholic Integralism.
The American church, Protestant and Catholic, needs to remove the American Flag from the shoulders of Jesus. It doesn’t belong there; never has. If U.S. policies and practices aren’t held under the judgement of the Gospel, why be a Christian at all? Why not just pledge primary allegiance to anything our nation does and forget Jesus? Just diminish our discipleship.
Some U.S. “leaders” have done just that. Congresswoman Laureen Boebert said, “Jesus didn’t have enough AR-15 rifles to keep the government from killing him.” What? Jesus is remolded into a grievance filled, revenge seeking and bully. What does the congresswoman do with the Sermon on the Mount, the words, “Love your enemies” or in the Garden of Gethsemane, “Nevertheless, thy will be done”? The paradox, of course, as Reinhold Niebuhr argued, while international ethics are messy, they begin with morality in human expression.
The witness of Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus the Christ, isn’t limited to the foolish, mean-spirited and ill-informed theologies of some in congress these days. Jesus of scripture says “Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.[iv]”
The witness of Jesus is UnFlagging! It is persistent – enduring. It calls leaders to leave their C-Suite offices and learn from the folks in the parking lot. It calls on congregations to speak with and learn from folks not in the pews on Sunday.
In the mid-1980s my family lived in a low-wealth neighborhood in Evansville, Indiana. One fall, fear gripped neighbors as vicious rapes were reported. The assailant was said to be African American in our multiracial community. Soon we learned the Ku Klux Klan was sending patrols to protect our white citizens, especially the women. What should our small core-city ministry do? How might we offer a safe alternative to this violation and the hate-based response?
Someone suggested we talk with Will Campbell. Mississippi born, Baptist minister, graduate of Yale Divinity School, author, and Civil Rights advocate, Will was known for friendships with a wide range of people, including members of the Ku Klux Klan. Will took this dwelling together stuff seriously!
I called and left phone messages for Will. It took a few days, and he returned my call. Hearing of our situation, he said, “First thing you need to say to the Klan is “no, your activities are not welcome.'” That sounded good to me — We had already done that. Then, Will, stumped me, surprised me. He asked, “What are their names?”
NAMES? “What do you mean?” I responded, “Whose names? Our neighbors?” “No.” Will said, thinking I would already know the Klansmen. Their names. I confessed that I didn’t know any of those folks. He said, “Well, then, what the hell you been doing? Who are they?” Interesting, our need to limit where repentance, reconciliation and renewal might occur. Perhaps some changes, some weaving of new relationships could happen in my own life, not only in the lives of Klan members. Might there be a bridging to new relationship, even there? A renewal larger than my imagining?
South African Methodist Bishop Peter Story noted that “America’s preachers have a task more difficult, perhaps, than those faced byus under apartheid. We had obvious evils to engage; you [on the other hand] have to unwrap your culture from years of red, white and blue myth, You have to expose and confront the great disconnect between the kindness, compassion and caring of most Americans and the ruthless way American power is experienced, directly and indirectly, by the poor of the earth. You have to help people see how they have let their institutions do their sinning for them.“
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.
Perhaps I was six or seven when the question first came. What is “good” about Good Friday? Our lives are full of questions; or at least mine is. These days most of my questions are about more mundane things, like “How did those spots get on my shirt or on my necktie?” Any man over seventy-five will understand.
After more than seven decades, the more profound and intellectually jarring theological question about the goodness of Good Friday still stirs in my spirit. I don’t have the one right, true answer as many of my conservative friends suggest they have. The soup stains on my necktie are so much more easily explained.
Other friends, more secular searchers, ask, “Why a focus on the cross? Isn’t there a better, less violent, symbol?” Without answering, I think of all the modern-day crosses people bare. I have been with families after a painful death, a murder, a rape, or a drowning. There are realities of starvation, war, captivity, and financial ruin. Abuse and discrimination are crosses of a different sort. Sin is woven within the human condition. Evil is present. No matter our desires for something less violent and more velvet — there is brutality and death.
Catehdral de San Isidore in Argentina
I recall the historic theories of the atonement. Jesus’s death is portrayed as Ransom, Substitute (suffers for), Penal (suffers instead), Example, and Victor. Each theory today is understood in decidedly individualistic ways. It is a quid pro quo formula as in Jesus did this and I get some reward. Such theology appears deeply embedded in St. Paul’s perspective (I Corinthians 15 or II Corinthians 5).
It was my beloved New Testament professor, Robert Lyon, who challenged me to think beyond this; to think more deeply and widely. The word study he assigned me was on the word λύτρον, meaning either redemption or ransom (Mark 10:45 and Matthew 20:28). I can still see the twinkle in Bob’s eye as he said, “And the context? Who is this ransom for and why? What is the larger Biblical frame?” These were the years of the Vietnam War and Civil Rights struggles over racism and sexism. Bob wasn’t dismissing classic atonement theories out of hand; he was asking for more – for a deeper grasp of the whole of the scriptural story. What does “ransom” have to do with justice? What if this is bigger than an individualistic transactional act? What if it is transformational for the entirety of God’s purposes? What if it is not primarily about one’s personal “free of sin” credit card? What if it is for ALL and for the entire Creation!
Walter Brueggemann suggests we speak of the execution of Jesus rather than his crucifixion. ALL THINGS are seen as potentially redeemed and redeemable: corrupt institutions, the violence of every empire, the despoiling of creation. Brueggeman speaks of God’s purposes as displayed in the life of Jesus as prophetic imagination. He speaks of “the alternative world that God has promised, and that God is birthing before our very eyes.
For me, even with food stains on my shirt, the questions in my spirit find greater meaning. This is the GOOD in Good Friday – God’s promise displayed for all persons and all creation. If we have eyes to see it and the will to live into it.
It happened again, recently. A public gathering, I prayed or presided in some fashion. A reception follows. All seems “normal” until one of the folks nearby starts to share a story and stops, “Woops, I forget, a preacher is here.” Often, I could anticipate what was going to be said. I have heard the story or off-color joke previously… I do not have “virgin ears”… but, somehow, I represent a purity zone. Clergy are thought to reside in the “Area 51” of polite conversation.
At times it is even worse. I am cornered as “an expert?” Some long-stored-up theological questions are brought forward. Many are just silly. Some would require a semester course in seminary, or perhaps the completion of a dissertation. Many are qustions that require attention throughout a lifetime. Some questions are asked as a “gotcha.” They are meant to make the preacher squirm.
Often, it begins with the words, “Pastor, I am not very religious, but I am spiritual and am troubled by some things; can you help me understand?” Here are a few I have encountered:
“What kind of fish swallowed Jonah?”
“Did Jesus really walk on water, or did he know where the rocks were?”
“If Jesus was alone when tempted in the desert, who knew to write about it?”
“Do you believe in Hell?”
“Do dogs go to heaven?”
“Did Adam and Eve have belly buttons?”
“In the Prodigal Son story, doesn’t the older brother get a bad rap? What did he do wrong?”
“Is everyone forgiven no matter what they do?
“Where did Cain find a wife? Isn’t marrying a sister incest?”
“Wasn’t Catholicism invented in 1054 so political leaders could break with the Eastern Church?”
“Does U.S. House of Representatives Speaker, Mike Johnson, have a Biblical Worldview?”
“Don’t you think Pope Francis is a Socialist?
Only a sample of the queries are here, some serious and knowledgeable, others an effort to be cute, too many with monistic (either/or) assumptions that miss the discovery and value of paradoxes within the theological task. (e.g., “If one would be master he/she must first be servant.”) I have learned the value of the rabbinic method of answering a question with a question. This is not the time for an overview of differing Biblical texts and literary scriptural devices. Much as I would like, there is little time to teach about the call to live in terms of the realm of God. (And there is certainly not time to speak of my preference for Kindom of God rather than Kingdom.) Often personal faith-journeys, current events or some family disputes are at the core of the seriously asked questions.
I find it a little like the “pick-up” basketball games played while growing up in Indiana. You call your own fouls and get to choose your team mates. The game unfolds “on the spot” but there are certain moves and shots that need to be tested against the other players. Could I make that hook shot now? Could I guard that more experienced player this time?
If possible, when these “questions for the pastor” spontaneous moments come my way, I invite folks to do their own study, later, and suggest a book or two to read. Then, I look for JOY. Is there a way to find in this moment the wide and wonder-filled sense of holiness carried within a smile or even a light chuckle? Perhaps thereby, faith is made more durable, understood with a richer complexity, and invitationally rather than a collecting up the right set of answers. So, when recently asked “Did Adam and Eve have a belly button?” I paused for a moment and said, “O yes, I think so, and I am certain God continues to have stretch marks from such births.” I was rewarded with a smile.
I am told that Thomas Langford, the former Duke Divinity School Dean, enjoyed driving a red pick-up truck around Durham and especially on the university campus. The license plate on the truck read “JOY N IT.” Folks who didn’t know Tom, might have mistakenly thought he was expressing his joy in driving that pickup. Others knew better. He was perhaps speaking of the joy of the truck, but I suspect he was also talking about the joy of a life of faith, of living and leaning forward into the questions, of imagining the joy of a life of gospel relevance… filled with gratitude and delight.
The poet John Keats wrote “Call the world, if you please, the Vale of Soul-making.” This task of “Soul-making” involves asking good questions and establishing habits of the heart. Habits of study, meditation, observation and being open to new imaginative insights, and yes, humor. It is the keeping of these patterns, until these patterns keep us.
So, I look forward to the next set of “questions for the pastor.” Maybe I can do better next time. Until then, I will remember the words from correspondence that is included in the Bible, James 1:2-5: My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing. If any of you is lacking in wisdom, ask God, who gives to all generously and ungrudgingly, and it will be given you. (NRSV).
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 