Several weeks ago, I had a conversation on facebook about Christianity. It was occasioned by Anne Rice's public rejection of Christianity; a friend posted an article commenting on Rice's decision. I expressed some disappointment with the way the article portrayed Christianity, and my friend asked me to clarify. I said, "It just implies that Anne Rice decided to turn away from the Christian religion as a whole because her beliefs didn't agree with either the Catholic or evangelical churches. It comes across as 'Catholic + evangelical = Christianity'." To which my friend responded, "To those of us outside Christian culture, that's exactly what it looks like."
With apologies to Catholics and evangelicals - because I know many of you do not conform to the stereotypes - my friend's words highlighted for me a dramatic and serious problem in our culture today. I can't say I blame her (or Anne Rice, for that matter). If I didn't spend so much time in churches and seminary classrooms, I'd think the same thing. If my view of Christianity came only from what I see in the news, I'd want nothing to do with it.
In the name of Christianity, people are burning copies of the Quran this weekend. In the name of Christianity, people are spouting messages of hate and violence against gays. They are claiming that the earthquake in Haiti - or the tornado in Minneapolis last summer - are God's punishment. They murder doctors in the middle of a church. And those are just the things that make the news on a regular basis. These people also, day in and day out, threaten non-Christians (or fellow Christians!) with eternal torture and damnation.
This is appalling. It makes me both angry and depressed to see the faith which has had such an impact on my life be slandered and abused. It's broadcasting a warped and despicable image of Christianity to the world. I am tired of it. I'm tired of these people monopolizing the name "Christian" in the public eye. It's both wrong and unfair.
And so I feel compelled to speak up and speak out.
I am a Christian. I am a Christian, and I support gay rights. I am a Christian, and I am pro-choice. I am a Christian, and I am a feminist. I am a Christian, and I belong to a church body that allows gay marriage and the ordination of women and gays. I am a Christian, and I like drinking beer and playing violent video games. I am a Christian, and I believe Muslims in this country deserve the same religions freedoms that I enjoy on a daily basis. I am a Christian, and I do not want to convert you. I am a Christian, and I do not have all the answers. I am a Christian, and there are many more like me.
I am a Christian, and in my imperfect nature, I strive to follow the living God. The God who became flesh and blood, who lived and died in solidarity with the poor and marginalized, who calls Christians to be Christ-like. Amen.
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Stewardship
I've been thinking lately about the reasons why we do stewardship. King of Kings, where I'm serving on internship, is (like many churches) gearing up for a fall stewardship campaign. They are excited and energized about bringing in new and creative approaches to stewardship. Watching and listening to the dialogue here has gotten me thinking more about stewardship in general.
First, a word about the word itself: stewardship. It seems to have two basic meanings, at least in church conversations. On the one hand, "stewardship" is the process of being a steward, of caring for something that belongs to another. In a theological context, the "owner" is usually God; we are stewards of God's creation, God's resources, God's gifts of life and abilities. On the other hand, "stewardship" means the fundraising of the church. Hence there are stewardship committees and stewardship drives, aimed at getting members to pledge (and then, hopefully, give) money.
So I've been thinking about why we do stewardship, mostly in the latter sense of the term. Why do we ask people to pledge money to the church? The question seems pertinent. If we cannot articulate a reason for giving, then how can we expect anyone to give? For those suffering economically, giving to a church may be too great a burden. For those who have money to give, why would they give to a church instead of a charity? I think charities do a much better job than most churches at answering the why question. I'll give an example: I frequently give money to Heifer International. In response, Heifer sends me mailings that describe specific projects they are doing around the world, even naming specific families that have been helped. That makes me feel like my money is doing something worthwhile, and I'll go back to Heifer next time I have money to give.
What about churches? Why do churches do stewardship? I've thought of four reasons; perhaps you can think of others. First, a church does stewardship to fund its budget. That seems to be the most frequently cited reason for stewardship. Here at King of Kings, as I experienced at my home congregation, a member of the stewardship team has stood up and said, "Here's our budget, and here is the shortfall we're experiencing, so please give what you pledged so we can keep paying the bills." I want to be clear: there is nothing wrong with this reason in and of itself. Churches need to pay the bills. My mother served as the church treasurer at my home congregation for many years, and faced the unenviable and unpopular task of telling the council when the bills were in danger of not being payed. If the church doesn't have a budget, the church building is not going to be lit or heated or cooled, the staff is not going to be paid, and the church as an institution will not be able to function. All of that being said, I think it is quite valid to be concerned if this reason is the only reason for doing stewardship, or the primary reason for doing stewardship. It's certainly not going to inspire or motivate people to be involved. They have their own bills to pay; paying the church's bills is not a very meaningful goal.
Second, a church does stewardship to support its ministries. Now the focus is not on the church building or the church institution, but on the meaningful work the church is doing. Perhaps the church has a food pantry, or supports one in the community. Perhaps the church has a ministry to the homeless. Perhaps the church has a preschool. This reason focuses on the ministry of the church, the church as the hands and feet of Jesus in the world.
The third reason is similar to the second: a church does stewardship to support the ministries of the wider church. In the ELCA, a portion of the money each congregation receives goes to the synod. A portion of the synod's money, in turn, goes to the churchwide organization. The money coming from congregations helps to support organizations like Lutheran World Relief, or the ELCA World Hunger Appeal. These ministries have a far wider reach than that of an individual congregation. After the earthquake in Haiti, I read about how Lutheran World Relief was able to be on the ground providing aid very quickly - because they already had the organization and resources in place before the disaster happened. They didn't have to start from scratch in order to help the people affected by the disaster.
The fourth reason is one that I have been considering in the context of the Luke 14 text I'm studying for my next sermon (see my other posts for more on that). I think we do stewardship also for a personal reason. Stewardship in this sense is a spiritual practice, a way of deepening faith and becoming better disciples of Christ. It's not something we do to earn God's love or acceptance. But it is a way of reflecting on the blessings we have received from God, some of them concrete and economic. It is a way of considering the needs of others in relation to ourselves. It is a way of placing trust in God - as my stewardship professor pointed out, the whole point of giving "first fruits" is that you have no guarantee you will get "second fruits." It forces us to step beyond the instinctive drive for self-preservation, of holding on to what we can get because the future is uncertain.
So far at King of Kings, I have heard a lot of the first three reasons, but not very much of the fourth. As I mentioned, they are concerned (like most churches) with the budget; at the same time, they have a strong mission focus and understand their relationship to the ministry of the wider church. However, that personal component of stewardship, what I'm viewing as a spiritual practice, does not seem to be part of the dialogue (judging only from what I've heard and seen so far). I hope to lift it up in this sermon I'm preaching on September 5. Perhaps it will help to deepen the understanding of what "stewardship" means.
First, a word about the word itself: stewardship. It seems to have two basic meanings, at least in church conversations. On the one hand, "stewardship" is the process of being a steward, of caring for something that belongs to another. In a theological context, the "owner" is usually God; we are stewards of God's creation, God's resources, God's gifts of life and abilities. On the other hand, "stewardship" means the fundraising of the church. Hence there are stewardship committees and stewardship drives, aimed at getting members to pledge (and then, hopefully, give) money.
So I've been thinking about why we do stewardship, mostly in the latter sense of the term. Why do we ask people to pledge money to the church? The question seems pertinent. If we cannot articulate a reason for giving, then how can we expect anyone to give? For those suffering economically, giving to a church may be too great a burden. For those who have money to give, why would they give to a church instead of a charity? I think charities do a much better job than most churches at answering the why question. I'll give an example: I frequently give money to Heifer International. In response, Heifer sends me mailings that describe specific projects they are doing around the world, even naming specific families that have been helped. That makes me feel like my money is doing something worthwhile, and I'll go back to Heifer next time I have money to give.
What about churches? Why do churches do stewardship? I've thought of four reasons; perhaps you can think of others. First, a church does stewardship to fund its budget. That seems to be the most frequently cited reason for stewardship. Here at King of Kings, as I experienced at my home congregation, a member of the stewardship team has stood up and said, "Here's our budget, and here is the shortfall we're experiencing, so please give what you pledged so we can keep paying the bills." I want to be clear: there is nothing wrong with this reason in and of itself. Churches need to pay the bills. My mother served as the church treasurer at my home congregation for many years, and faced the unenviable and unpopular task of telling the council when the bills were in danger of not being payed. If the church doesn't have a budget, the church building is not going to be lit or heated or cooled, the staff is not going to be paid, and the church as an institution will not be able to function. All of that being said, I think it is quite valid to be concerned if this reason is the only reason for doing stewardship, or the primary reason for doing stewardship. It's certainly not going to inspire or motivate people to be involved. They have their own bills to pay; paying the church's bills is not a very meaningful goal.
Second, a church does stewardship to support its ministries. Now the focus is not on the church building or the church institution, but on the meaningful work the church is doing. Perhaps the church has a food pantry, or supports one in the community. Perhaps the church has a ministry to the homeless. Perhaps the church has a preschool. This reason focuses on the ministry of the church, the church as the hands and feet of Jesus in the world.
The third reason is similar to the second: a church does stewardship to support the ministries of the wider church. In the ELCA, a portion of the money each congregation receives goes to the synod. A portion of the synod's money, in turn, goes to the churchwide organization. The money coming from congregations helps to support organizations like Lutheran World Relief, or the ELCA World Hunger Appeal. These ministries have a far wider reach than that of an individual congregation. After the earthquake in Haiti, I read about how Lutheran World Relief was able to be on the ground providing aid very quickly - because they already had the organization and resources in place before the disaster happened. They didn't have to start from scratch in order to help the people affected by the disaster.
The fourth reason is one that I have been considering in the context of the Luke 14 text I'm studying for my next sermon (see my other posts for more on that). I think we do stewardship also for a personal reason. Stewardship in this sense is a spiritual practice, a way of deepening faith and becoming better disciples of Christ. It's not something we do to earn God's love or acceptance. But it is a way of reflecting on the blessings we have received from God, some of them concrete and economic. It is a way of considering the needs of others in relation to ourselves. It is a way of placing trust in God - as my stewardship professor pointed out, the whole point of giving "first fruits" is that you have no guarantee you will get "second fruits." It forces us to step beyond the instinctive drive for self-preservation, of holding on to what we can get because the future is uncertain.
So far at King of Kings, I have heard a lot of the first three reasons, but not very much of the fourth. As I mentioned, they are concerned (like most churches) with the budget; at the same time, they have a strong mission focus and understand their relationship to the ministry of the wider church. However, that personal component of stewardship, what I'm viewing as a spiritual practice, does not seem to be part of the dialogue (judging only from what I've heard and seen so far). I hope to lift it up in this sermon I'm preaching on September 5. Perhaps it will help to deepen the understanding of what "stewardship" means.
Friday, August 20, 2010
A Word to Parents
The religious landscape in this country is changing. It's been changing for decades (and probably before that, too). The so- called "golden age" of American protestantism, when "everybody" went to church, is clearly dead and gone. It is worthwhile to doubt whether it ever truly existed, or if it is just a figment of wishful hindsight. Still, it's true that organized religion in general, and Christianity in particular, is losing its cultural force. More and more people are not participating in a worship community, nor identifying with a religious group.
To be honest, I am not upset about this trend. Although my faith, and my participation in Christian community, has been a powerful and positive experience in my life, it's no offense to me if others feel differently. I certainly recognize and empathize with the disillusion many people feel towards Christianity. As an organization, the Christian church has done some atrocious things (and some merely stupid things). Although I find community with others to be important to my spirituality, I understand that others prefer to practice their spirituality in private.
However, there is one aspect of this trend that does trouble me, and which I feel moved to address. My comments are directed towards parents. What I often hear from parents is this statement, or one like it: "I don't take my kids to church because I want them to make their own decisions." Many of my friends have told me that their parents did not raise them in any kind of religious community; as a result, these friends find the very concept of faith to be a foreign and confusing (even upsetting) subject.
I'm not a parent, but I think I understand whence this attitude comes. Especially for those who grew up with a negative experience of religion, church can seem like the last place to take a growing child. If you had to memorize the catechism and recite it in front of the congregation, if you were indoctrinated, if your questions and exploration were squashed, if your voice was silenced - certainly, you wouldn't want to put your kids through that.
However, when I hear from a twenty-something that he or she really wants to believe in something, anything, but just can't seem to do it, it tugs at my heart. Faith is something I grew up with. That's not to suggest that my faith journey has always been easy or straightforward (it certainly hasn't), but I am convinced that I was greatly aided and equipped by growing up in a religious community.
Parents, you want your kids to be able to make their own decisions. You don't want to force a belief system on them. That is great. More power to you. But let me make an analogy. I assume that most parents also want their kids to decide on a career or profession. You wouldn't force your child to be a doctor or a teacher. But you still make your kids get up in the morning and go to school. Even if they don't want to. You know that, before your children can decide to be doctors or teachers or lawyers or the president of the United States, they have to get an education. They have to learn to read and write, add and subtract, engage in conversation and think critically. As their parents, you require your children to go to school; you give them, whether they want it or not, a groundwork that they will need to be able to make decisions later in life. You wouldn't let your kid sit at home for 18 years and then suddenly expect that they can get into a premed program.
I really believe that the same principles should operate in the area of faith. Your kids should be able to decide what they believe and how they practice that faith. But they won't be equipped to make those decisions unless you, as parents, provide them with a groundwork. That groundwork doesn't even necessarily have to come from a church - maybe you can read to your kids from the Bible, the Quran, and the Tripitaka. But give them something, some resource that they can draw on - or reject - in adulthood. Give them a groundwork on which they can build.
(A note here: I don't want to suggest that people who were not raised in a religious community are incapable of having faith. I don't believe that to be true. However, my conversations with friends have suggested to me that the faith journey may be much harder if you are trying to start from scratch in your twenties. That being said, there are resources out there for spiritual seekers, and I expect those could be very helpful.)
There is a lesson here for churches, too, lest we think that the problem lies outside of ourselves. Churches must be places where parents would want to take their children. That means very practical and important concerns with regard to safety (as the cases of clergy abuse have made all too clear). It also means that churches shouldn't be concerned with indoctrinating children. We should be open to questioning, to doubting, and to disagreement. We should allow children and especially youth to "tinker" with their faith, drawing in resources not only from our own religious tradition, but from other traditions as well. We should embrace and encourage spiritual creativity. We should break down the hierarchies that serve to silence some voices, particularly the voices of question and critique.
In short, my word to parents is this: give your children the education they need to be able to grow into their own, unique faith. And to churches: provide to both parents and children (and all spiritual seekers) resources for exploration and growth. May we all walk together on journeys of faith, wherever they lead.
To be honest, I am not upset about this trend. Although my faith, and my participation in Christian community, has been a powerful and positive experience in my life, it's no offense to me if others feel differently. I certainly recognize and empathize with the disillusion many people feel towards Christianity. As an organization, the Christian church has done some atrocious things (and some merely stupid things). Although I find community with others to be important to my spirituality, I understand that others prefer to practice their spirituality in private.
However, there is one aspect of this trend that does trouble me, and which I feel moved to address. My comments are directed towards parents. What I often hear from parents is this statement, or one like it: "I don't take my kids to church because I want them to make their own decisions." Many of my friends have told me that their parents did not raise them in any kind of religious community; as a result, these friends find the very concept of faith to be a foreign and confusing (even upsetting) subject.
I'm not a parent, but I think I understand whence this attitude comes. Especially for those who grew up with a negative experience of religion, church can seem like the last place to take a growing child. If you had to memorize the catechism and recite it in front of the congregation, if you were indoctrinated, if your questions and exploration were squashed, if your voice was silenced - certainly, you wouldn't want to put your kids through that.
However, when I hear from a twenty-something that he or she really wants to believe in something, anything, but just can't seem to do it, it tugs at my heart. Faith is something I grew up with. That's not to suggest that my faith journey has always been easy or straightforward (it certainly hasn't), but I am convinced that I was greatly aided and equipped by growing up in a religious community.
Parents, you want your kids to be able to make their own decisions. You don't want to force a belief system on them. That is great. More power to you. But let me make an analogy. I assume that most parents also want their kids to decide on a career or profession. You wouldn't force your child to be a doctor or a teacher. But you still make your kids get up in the morning and go to school. Even if they don't want to. You know that, before your children can decide to be doctors or teachers or lawyers or the president of the United States, they have to get an education. They have to learn to read and write, add and subtract, engage in conversation and think critically. As their parents, you require your children to go to school; you give them, whether they want it or not, a groundwork that they will need to be able to make decisions later in life. You wouldn't let your kid sit at home for 18 years and then suddenly expect that they can get into a premed program.
I really believe that the same principles should operate in the area of faith. Your kids should be able to decide what they believe and how they practice that faith. But they won't be equipped to make those decisions unless you, as parents, provide them with a groundwork. That groundwork doesn't even necessarily have to come from a church - maybe you can read to your kids from the Bible, the Quran, and the Tripitaka. But give them something, some resource that they can draw on - or reject - in adulthood. Give them a groundwork on which they can build.
(A note here: I don't want to suggest that people who were not raised in a religious community are incapable of having faith. I don't believe that to be true. However, my conversations with friends have suggested to me that the faith journey may be much harder if you are trying to start from scratch in your twenties. That being said, there are resources out there for spiritual seekers, and I expect those could be very helpful.)
There is a lesson here for churches, too, lest we think that the problem lies outside of ourselves. Churches must be places where parents would want to take their children. That means very practical and important concerns with regard to safety (as the cases of clergy abuse have made all too clear). It also means that churches shouldn't be concerned with indoctrinating children. We should be open to questioning, to doubting, and to disagreement. We should allow children and especially youth to "tinker" with their faith, drawing in resources not only from our own religious tradition, but from other traditions as well. We should embrace and encourage spiritual creativity. We should break down the hierarchies that serve to silence some voices, particularly the voices of question and critique.
In short, my word to parents is this: give your children the education they need to be able to grow into their own, unique faith. And to churches: provide to both parents and children (and all spiritual seekers) resources for exploration and growth. May we all walk together on journeys of faith, wherever they lead.
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