Ten years ago this weekend I made a significant leadership mistake. James Byrd had just been killed in a hate crime by three white supremacists in Jasper, Texas. I don’t exactly remember the timing of this terrible event, but I do know that when I showed up on the Sunday following it, that I didn’t pray or preach about it. I didn’t do anything with it. I remembered driving to Palmer on that Sunday thinking about what to do, what to say, but nothing came to me. I felt overwhelmed. I felt angry. I felt repulsion. But, again, I didn’t do anything because I didn’t exactly know what to do.
After service two women, both of whom were black, came up to me with tears in their eyes and anger in their voices. Both of them were disappointed with me, with us, that no mention of this crime was mentioned. Both of them questioned whether Palmer could be their home after this omission. Even though I apologized to them on that morning and even though I did so in writing that week, that moment has lingered with me for ten years. I was reminded of “missing the mark” on my own leadership in the articles that came out this past week, and I hope and pray that I never make that mistake again. When the Columbia blew up, we dealt with it. When 9/11 happened, we dealt with it. When Katrina happened, we dealt with it. When the church does not deal with such events, we’re not being faithful. We are not called to be a holy huddle, shielding ourselves from the world. We are called to be aware of what is going on around us and we are challenged to then make theological and spiritual sense of these events. And even if we cannot always make sense of what goes on—like with Katrina—we are called to pray for what is going on, trusting that our praying makes a difference. What I learned from those two women is that when a calamity or tragedy or crime of this kind of magnitude happen, something, anything, needs to be said, even if you don’t exactly know what to do or what to say. Do something. Don’t flinch. Don’t wait for the perfect words or the perfect plan. It would have been enough for me to acknowledge the event, to pray for James Byrd’s soul, to pray for the people of Jasper, and to pray for the life and soul of this nation, of all nations, that hate crimes everywhere would cease.
One way that I can do penance (and yes, I do believe in doing penances) is to confess to all of you how I felt like I let you down 10 years ago. Another way that I can do penance is to invite you to watch a documentary on Episcopalians’ role in the slave trade which will be airing this month, titled “ Traces of the Trade: A Story From the Deep North." I saw some excerpts of this film at the last General Convention (it was still in production), and I will say that I was very sad and aggrieved about the role that certain families of the Episcopal faith had in the slave trade. For instance, the DeWolf family of Rhode Island was the largest slave-trading family in early America. More than 10,000 slaves came here in the holds of their ships. Among the DeWolf lineage were several bishops, one presiding bishop, and many priests.
I knew very well one of those descendents. His name was Halsey DeWolf Howe, and he was the first person who wrote to congratulate me on being called as rector to the last parish where I was privileged to serve. He was a priest who had served all over New
England, and he had just retired to the small town where I had just been called. Halsey and I became very good friends, and he soon came onto the staff at St. Peter’s. I wish I could say that Halsey and I had talked about his ancestors, but we didn’t. I had no idea that his family had such a history.
For Halsey’s sake, for I am sure that this documentary would be deeply disturbing and embarrassing to him, and I am glad that he is no longer here on this earth. For our sake, though, I would ask us to watch this documentary ourselves.
In a recent sermon, I talked about how all racism is sin. I also talked about how we can—even with the best of intentions and with the best of beliefs—indulge in racism ourselves. In subtle ways. Unconscious ways. And then I gave an example of how I had recently done it myself at a store with someone who didn’t understand me not because they were dumb, but because we spoke different languages.
All racism is sin because we are all made in God’s image and because we are all precious in his sight and because we all need each other and because something goes bad and ugly in our own hearts when we indulge in it and because we do harmful things to others when we allow it or embrace it or subscribe to it.
I am, again, sorry that I let you down, let those ladies down, let God down on that Sunday 10 years ago. I give thanks that we have a God of mercy and that we are about second chances. I do give thanks for the painful honesty of those women, however. I learned a lot on that Sunday. I learned that leadership means that we have to pay attention to the world, that we need to bring the world’s concerns and ills and joys into the church, and that we need to find ways to pray and address those issues, so that we can then enter back into the world better equipped to be salt and light and leaven to a world that needs our witness and presence.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Thursday, June 5, 2008
"Islam 101 Lecture Costs Principal Job"
When I started blogging last week (I still can’t believe I am doing it given what a neophyte I am with all things electronic) I didn’t think I was going to have much to say. I thought I would do the men’s bible study notes (it has been very gratifying to me to hear from so many of you who appreciate getting these reflections) and that I would on a monthly basis send you all some thoughts on leadership in a column I am calling “Leadership and Life.” That is all that I thought I would do; but then…but then there seems so many other things that catch my interest and so many other topics that you are sending my way. So, here is another.
Some of you may have seen in the Houston Chronicle today an article with the title from above. The principal from Friendship Junior High had allowed an Islamic group to make a 40 minute presentation to students last month is now the “former” principal. The superintendent had authorized that the presentation only be given to staff and not to the students, but something happened from the hand-off from her office to the principal of the school, which led to the presentation happening in front of nearly 900 students. The origins of the presentation stemmed from a father contacting the Council on American Islamic Relations (CAIR) in Houston after his son had been physically attacked at the school because he is Muslim.
After this presentation, which CAIR has described as Islam 101, community members flooded the district with complaints and it then became a “hot topic” on a local radio station. All of this led, again, to the principal being given other work to do, effective immediately.
Some parents were relieved about the principal’s dismissal and some were concerned. As a religious person and leader, I am in the second group. If the principal clearly disobeyed the instructions from the superintendent, then I can understand his or her removal; but if he or she was removed because he or she simply allowed the presentation to happen and because the instructions from the superintendent’s office may not have been clear, then, again, I am very concerned.
It seems to me—and now I about to launch into my own views about all this—that it is imperative that we as Christians learn about other faiths, that we learn what the similarities are, the differences are, that we accept, honor, and sometimes even celebrate those differences, and that we learn how to co-exist in this world together, all of us as God’s children. We need not, and this I believe passionately, be worried, intimidated, anxious, or afraid of other faiths. I want to live into my Christian faith with conviction integrity, and I would hope that Jews and Muslims and others would do the same.
I was recently at the Emery Weiner School here in Houston, and I told all of the high school kids that I was there to “proselytize.” I thought that the headmaster, my friend Stuart Dow, was going to “lose it.” I then asked the kids what it has felt like to be proselytized by one of their friends and the response I heard from them was uniformly ugly. (As much as I believe it is important for us to share our faith, we need to find a way to do it that is kind and gracious and sensitive.) Despite hearing their comments, I reiterated that I was there to proselytize, and then I said, “I am not here to invite you to be Christians but to be good Jews, or good people of faith from whatever faith tradition that you come from. Don’t just be cultural Jews; don’t just show up for Yom Kippur or any of the other big, holy days. No, live deeply into your faith every day, remembering that we are not human beings with a spiritual life, but spiritual beings with a human opportunity.”
The superintendent of the schools wrote a letter to all of the parents describing Friendswood as “a faith-based community,” while also apologizing to all of them that the program happened. Now, this is, I think, a rather odd statement. Is the superintendent suggesting that Islam is not faith-based?
And then all of the angry responses to her and all of the outraged comments on the radio station—what do we make of all that? One thing to make of all this is that we, many Christians, are woefully ignorant about the deep connections that we have with both the Jewish and Muslim faiths. And now is time for a little bible study. Our great-great grandparents in the faith, Abraham and Sarah, were called by God to leave their homeland and to begin a family (See Genesis 12). God told them that if they followed his invitation that he would bless them to be a blessings to all the nations of the world. (This will be the text that I will be preaching on this Sunday.)
Four chapters into the narrative, scripture tells us that Sarah continued to be barren, and so Sarah gave Abraham her slave Hagar so that she could bear children for them. According to ancient custom, a wife could give her maid to her husband and claim the child as her own. Abraham “went in to Hagar, and she conceived,” and she called her son Ishmael. Hagar then looked with contempt on Sarah, the barren one, and Sarah was not pleased, so began to treat her harshly. Hagar ran away. Out in the wilderness an angel of the Lord finds her and sends her back to her mistress. Later, in chapter 21, Sarah bears Isaac and when she sees Abraham’s two sons, Ishmael and Isaac, playing together she has Hagar and this other son banished. Just as she and the boy are about to die of thirst, an angel of the Lord comes to her and says, “What troubles you Hagar? Do not be afraid; for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is. Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him.” (Gen. 21:17-18) Although Ishmael was not the heir of the promise, God did promise to be with the boy and his descendents. Muslims trace their lineage to Abraham through Ishmael, which means that Jews and Christians and Muslims—all of us—are related in the faith.
Now, by saying that we are related I am not meaning to imply that we are all one; nor, am I meaning to so blur the edges and distinctions that we just have one muddy-non-descript-smorgasbord of faith. There are differences. Important ones. But, again, we are all related, and we are all, according to Genesis chapter one, God’s children. Which means that we need to learn about each other—learn not only what we believe, learn what we share in common, learn what is different, but also learn how to get along in this world.
No doubt the horrendous attacks of 9/11 have made it hard for many of us to think about Muslim people in kindly ways, but we need to be very clear that many, many Muslims are just as appalled and angry about these attacks as we are. We need to remember that many Muslims have chosen this country as their home and that many of them have chosen to flee from the fundamentalist regimes of their homelands.
Let me say again that I don’t entirely know the circumstances of that principal in Friendswood being demoted. If he or she was being insubordinate, then he or she may have needed to go. But if he or she was sent packing because the superintendent was placating an angry group of parents, then we must on some level acknowledge that in all of these proceedings involving a 40-minute presentation on Islam 101 many people have not even practiced Christianity 101. You will remember that Jesus said, “Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, mind, and soul, and love your neighbor as yourself.” And even if any of us do think the Muslims as our enemies, we are still commanded to love them.
One irony in all this is that Friendswood is called by that name because a Society of Friends had once settled there. During these times, times that are fraught with so much suspicion and fear and anxiety, how can we learn to be friends across the lines and boundaries and divisions?
When Abraham died, both Ishmael and Isaac peacefully stood at this grave (see Gen. 25:9). What do we need bury for the sons and daughters of Ishmael and Isaac to peacefully co-exist today?
Some of you may have seen in the Houston Chronicle today an article with the title from above. The principal from Friendship Junior High had allowed an Islamic group to make a 40 minute presentation to students last month is now the “former” principal. The superintendent had authorized that the presentation only be given to staff and not to the students, but something happened from the hand-off from her office to the principal of the school, which led to the presentation happening in front of nearly 900 students. The origins of the presentation stemmed from a father contacting the Council on American Islamic Relations (CAIR) in Houston after his son had been physically attacked at the school because he is Muslim.
After this presentation, which CAIR has described as Islam 101, community members flooded the district with complaints and it then became a “hot topic” on a local radio station. All of this led, again, to the principal being given other work to do, effective immediately.
Some parents were relieved about the principal’s dismissal and some were concerned. As a religious person and leader, I am in the second group. If the principal clearly disobeyed the instructions from the superintendent, then I can understand his or her removal; but if he or she was removed because he or she simply allowed the presentation to happen and because the instructions from the superintendent’s office may not have been clear, then, again, I am very concerned.
It seems to me—and now I about to launch into my own views about all this—that it is imperative that we as Christians learn about other faiths, that we learn what the similarities are, the differences are, that we accept, honor, and sometimes even celebrate those differences, and that we learn how to co-exist in this world together, all of us as God’s children. We need not, and this I believe passionately, be worried, intimidated, anxious, or afraid of other faiths. I want to live into my Christian faith with conviction integrity, and I would hope that Jews and Muslims and others would do the same.
I was recently at the Emery Weiner School here in Houston, and I told all of the high school kids that I was there to “proselytize.” I thought that the headmaster, my friend Stuart Dow, was going to “lose it.” I then asked the kids what it has felt like to be proselytized by one of their friends and the response I heard from them was uniformly ugly. (As much as I believe it is important for us to share our faith, we need to find a way to do it that is kind and gracious and sensitive.) Despite hearing their comments, I reiterated that I was there to proselytize, and then I said, “I am not here to invite you to be Christians but to be good Jews, or good people of faith from whatever faith tradition that you come from. Don’t just be cultural Jews; don’t just show up for Yom Kippur or any of the other big, holy days. No, live deeply into your faith every day, remembering that we are not human beings with a spiritual life, but spiritual beings with a human opportunity.”
The superintendent of the schools wrote a letter to all of the parents describing Friendswood as “a faith-based community,” while also apologizing to all of them that the program happened. Now, this is, I think, a rather odd statement. Is the superintendent suggesting that Islam is not faith-based?
And then all of the angry responses to her and all of the outraged comments on the radio station—what do we make of all that? One thing to make of all this is that we, many Christians, are woefully ignorant about the deep connections that we have with both the Jewish and Muslim faiths. And now is time for a little bible study. Our great-great grandparents in the faith, Abraham and Sarah, were called by God to leave their homeland and to begin a family (See Genesis 12). God told them that if they followed his invitation that he would bless them to be a blessings to all the nations of the world. (This will be the text that I will be preaching on this Sunday.)
Four chapters into the narrative, scripture tells us that Sarah continued to be barren, and so Sarah gave Abraham her slave Hagar so that she could bear children for them. According to ancient custom, a wife could give her maid to her husband and claim the child as her own. Abraham “went in to Hagar, and she conceived,” and she called her son Ishmael. Hagar then looked with contempt on Sarah, the barren one, and Sarah was not pleased, so began to treat her harshly. Hagar ran away. Out in the wilderness an angel of the Lord finds her and sends her back to her mistress. Later, in chapter 21, Sarah bears Isaac and when she sees Abraham’s two sons, Ishmael and Isaac, playing together she has Hagar and this other son banished. Just as she and the boy are about to die of thirst, an angel of the Lord comes to her and says, “What troubles you Hagar? Do not be afraid; for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is. Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him.” (Gen. 21:17-18) Although Ishmael was not the heir of the promise, God did promise to be with the boy and his descendents. Muslims trace their lineage to Abraham through Ishmael, which means that Jews and Christians and Muslims—all of us—are related in the faith.
Now, by saying that we are related I am not meaning to imply that we are all one; nor, am I meaning to so blur the edges and distinctions that we just have one muddy-non-descript-smorgasbord of faith. There are differences. Important ones. But, again, we are all related, and we are all, according to Genesis chapter one, God’s children. Which means that we need to learn about each other—learn not only what we believe, learn what we share in common, learn what is different, but also learn how to get along in this world.
No doubt the horrendous attacks of 9/11 have made it hard for many of us to think about Muslim people in kindly ways, but we need to be very clear that many, many Muslims are just as appalled and angry about these attacks as we are. We need to remember that many Muslims have chosen this country as their home and that many of them have chosen to flee from the fundamentalist regimes of their homelands.
Let me say again that I don’t entirely know the circumstances of that principal in Friendswood being demoted. If he or she was being insubordinate, then he or she may have needed to go. But if he or she was sent packing because the superintendent was placating an angry group of parents, then we must on some level acknowledge that in all of these proceedings involving a 40-minute presentation on Islam 101 many people have not even practiced Christianity 101. You will remember that Jesus said, “Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, mind, and soul, and love your neighbor as yourself.” And even if any of us do think the Muslims as our enemies, we are still commanded to love them.
One irony in all this is that Friendswood is called by that name because a Society of Friends had once settled there. During these times, times that are fraught with so much suspicion and fear and anxiety, how can we learn to be friends across the lines and boundaries and divisions?
When Abraham died, both Ishmael and Isaac peacefully stood at this grave (see Gen. 25:9). What do we need bury for the sons and daughters of Ishmael and Isaac to peacefully co-exist today?
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Reflections on the Connections Between Faith and Politics June 2, 2008
Well, I have never wanted to be boring from the pulpit, and it is clear to me that my sermon from May 18th touched a lot of nerves. If you were not in church, don’t despair. You can know either hear it or now see it on our website.
In that particular sermon I started by saying that I wanted us to “come alongside” the congregations in the United Church of Church, whose president and senior leader had asked all the congregations of that denomination to talk about race relations on that day in response to The Rev. Jeremiah Wright’s sermons. Since Rev. Wright’s sermons had been shown for the last three months in the media, the U.C.C. has had to face a public relations challenge. You will, of course, remember that Rev. Wright is a U.C.C. minister.
One concerned parishioner wrote that he didn’t believe that the issue was about race, but about a “spiritual leader committing the sin of breaking two of the Ten Commandments on the pulpit, in order to make a point. (1. Bearing false witness and 2. Taking the Lord’s name in vain.” He went on to write, “My concern is that by your taking on the request from the UCC president to speak about race last Sunday, without addressing the issue above, could appear as an endorsement of Rev. Wright’s words and actions. I would hope that you would not sanction the use of such words, or such actions, from the pulpit or any other place, by a minister of any other ‘ordinary’ person. I would like to know your position on this aspect of the issue and have your dissect the dynamic situation surrounding the Rev. Wright for all of us, either singularly, or as a panel of clergy.”
I think that these are fair questions, and I will choose to address them singularly. If any of you should desire to find out what any of our other clergy think or feel, I know that they would be glad to hear from you.
I will admit that I am not a big media person—that probably doesn’t come as a surprise to most of you. I try to keep up as best I can, but I tend to be more of a reader than a watcher. I know that if I am going to do the class next year—the Gospel 360—with much credibility and currency then my habits will need to change. By not commenting on Rev. Wright’s sermons, I was in no way giving any kind of sanction to his sermons, to his language, to his examples, to his positions. Being a preacher myself, I know that you must sometimes speak to the brink, that is, you must speak in big ways, in startling ways, in challenging ways, in sometimes confrontational ways, to get people’s attention. The scriptures are full of such examples, and even Jesus himself often resorted to rhetorical-hyperbole in order to get his point across. One example of this is when he said that we needed to hate our father and mother and everyone else in order to follow him. Jesus does not mean these words literally, for that, of course, would be inviting his disciples to break one of the Ten Commandments. Jesus was using this very confrontational language in order to tell us that he must be first in our lives.
Let us return to Rev. Wright. As much as I understand using big language to wake people up, to shake them up, I also know that the preacher must be very careful about not saying things so big that he or she stops making sense, that he or she doesn’t begin to sounds like just a ranting fool, that he or she doesn’t become so offensive that people shut down. Do I support him using the Lord’s name in vain from the pulpit? Of course not. Now, let us pause for a moment here. Using the Lord’s name in vain doesn’t simply mean using God’s name along with a swear word. That is just simplistic. Using the Lord’s name in vain means using the Lord’s name and connecting it to causes and issues and stances that are not about the Lord’s desires for our lives. Using the Lord’s name in vain happens when we pray for things that we have no business praying for, when we try to use the Lord to substantiate our own needs or positions. Let us face it: we have all used the Lord’s name in vain. Moving on. Or do I support Rev. Wright bearing false witness from the pulpit or anywhere else? Again, no. I think it was irresponsible for him to suggest that the United States government may have had a hand in creating the AIDS epidemic; I thought his comments that attack on the World Trade Center arose from crimes of American foreign policy were unguarded and inflammatory; I thought him calling down God’s wrath upon this nation frightful and unfaithful. Now, having said all that, and having, I hope, distanced myself from him, I would still—as I said in the sermon—like to invite us to think about whether or not this very angry man might, just might, have something for us to consider.
I am sure by now that most of you have seen or read that Senator Obama has now resigned his membership from Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago. After Michael Pfleger, a Catholic priest, gave a guest sermon mocking Senator Hilary Clinton for crying in New Hampshire, while also suggesting that she felt “entitled” to the nomination because she is white—this sermon was given at Obama’s church—Obama really had no choice but to resign. I believe his leaving was not just an expedient and political move, but also a wise and faithful one.
This past weekend the Houston Chronicle ran an editorial titled “Pastor Problems: Partisan preaching adds little value to presidential campaigns—and much to regret.” The gist that I derived from this article was that all the candidates would do well to keep their distance from their pastors, except perhaps for private issues, that that we, the electorate, would do well to build a wall between church and state. Although I would never want a theocracy of any type of stripe, and although there are some connections between the religious right and the political right that make me uncomfortable, and although I see many difficult challenges on how religion and politics intersect and speak to each other, I would not ever want to entirely or totally divorce religion from the political realm. I have never, and will never, tell you how to vote or who to vote for, but I have and I will invite you to have a conversation between your religious convictions and your political views. If we do not make that connection, if we do not have that conversation, both our religion and our politics will be impoverished. If we don’t try to connect our faith to our politics, the church has just retreated into being a “holy huddle,” focused on the “by and by,” so heavenly directed that it isn’t much earthly good. Such a faith, such eviscerated faith, is not the Biblical faith. Such a faith has no connection to all the great prophets, no connection to the Genesis narrative when God created everything, including the political realm, no connection with the God who so loved the world that he gave his only Son. The voice of the churches made a faithful difference during the civil rights movement and in the abolition of slavery movements in both England and the United States.
That is probably enough for now, except I would ask you to be praying right now and in the days ahead for all of the candidates, for this nation and all of its people, for healthy and strong leadership to emerge, and for our relationship and leadership in the world. Lord, have mercy. JWN
In that particular sermon I started by saying that I wanted us to “come alongside” the congregations in the United Church of Church, whose president and senior leader had asked all the congregations of that denomination to talk about race relations on that day in response to The Rev. Jeremiah Wright’s sermons. Since Rev. Wright’s sermons had been shown for the last three months in the media, the U.C.C. has had to face a public relations challenge. You will, of course, remember that Rev. Wright is a U.C.C. minister.
One concerned parishioner wrote that he didn’t believe that the issue was about race, but about a “spiritual leader committing the sin of breaking two of the Ten Commandments on the pulpit, in order to make a point. (1. Bearing false witness and 2. Taking the Lord’s name in vain.” He went on to write, “My concern is that by your taking on the request from the UCC president to speak about race last Sunday, without addressing the issue above, could appear as an endorsement of Rev. Wright’s words and actions. I would hope that you would not sanction the use of such words, or such actions, from the pulpit or any other place, by a minister of any other ‘ordinary’ person. I would like to know your position on this aspect of the issue and have your dissect the dynamic situation surrounding the Rev. Wright for all of us, either singularly, or as a panel of clergy.”
I think that these are fair questions, and I will choose to address them singularly. If any of you should desire to find out what any of our other clergy think or feel, I know that they would be glad to hear from you.
I will admit that I am not a big media person—that probably doesn’t come as a surprise to most of you. I try to keep up as best I can, but I tend to be more of a reader than a watcher. I know that if I am going to do the class next year—the Gospel 360—with much credibility and currency then my habits will need to change. By not commenting on Rev. Wright’s sermons, I was in no way giving any kind of sanction to his sermons, to his language, to his examples, to his positions. Being a preacher myself, I know that you must sometimes speak to the brink, that is, you must speak in big ways, in startling ways, in challenging ways, in sometimes confrontational ways, to get people’s attention. The scriptures are full of such examples, and even Jesus himself often resorted to rhetorical-hyperbole in order to get his point across. One example of this is when he said that we needed to hate our father and mother and everyone else in order to follow him. Jesus does not mean these words literally, for that, of course, would be inviting his disciples to break one of the Ten Commandments. Jesus was using this very confrontational language in order to tell us that he must be first in our lives.
Let us return to Rev. Wright. As much as I understand using big language to wake people up, to shake them up, I also know that the preacher must be very careful about not saying things so big that he or she stops making sense, that he or she doesn’t begin to sounds like just a ranting fool, that he or she doesn’t become so offensive that people shut down. Do I support him using the Lord’s name in vain from the pulpit? Of course not. Now, let us pause for a moment here. Using the Lord’s name in vain doesn’t simply mean using God’s name along with a swear word. That is just simplistic. Using the Lord’s name in vain means using the Lord’s name and connecting it to causes and issues and stances that are not about the Lord’s desires for our lives. Using the Lord’s name in vain happens when we pray for things that we have no business praying for, when we try to use the Lord to substantiate our own needs or positions. Let us face it: we have all used the Lord’s name in vain. Moving on. Or do I support Rev. Wright bearing false witness from the pulpit or anywhere else? Again, no. I think it was irresponsible for him to suggest that the United States government may have had a hand in creating the AIDS epidemic; I thought his comments that attack on the World Trade Center arose from crimes of American foreign policy were unguarded and inflammatory; I thought him calling down God’s wrath upon this nation frightful and unfaithful. Now, having said all that, and having, I hope, distanced myself from him, I would still—as I said in the sermon—like to invite us to think about whether or not this very angry man might, just might, have something for us to consider.
I am sure by now that most of you have seen or read that Senator Obama has now resigned his membership from Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago. After Michael Pfleger, a Catholic priest, gave a guest sermon mocking Senator Hilary Clinton for crying in New Hampshire, while also suggesting that she felt “entitled” to the nomination because she is white—this sermon was given at Obama’s church—Obama really had no choice but to resign. I believe his leaving was not just an expedient and political move, but also a wise and faithful one.
This past weekend the Houston Chronicle ran an editorial titled “Pastor Problems: Partisan preaching adds little value to presidential campaigns—and much to regret.” The gist that I derived from this article was that all the candidates would do well to keep their distance from their pastors, except perhaps for private issues, that that we, the electorate, would do well to build a wall between church and state. Although I would never want a theocracy of any type of stripe, and although there are some connections between the religious right and the political right that make me uncomfortable, and although I see many difficult challenges on how religion and politics intersect and speak to each other, I would not ever want to entirely or totally divorce religion from the political realm. I have never, and will never, tell you how to vote or who to vote for, but I have and I will invite you to have a conversation between your religious convictions and your political views. If we do not make that connection, if we do not have that conversation, both our religion and our politics will be impoverished. If we don’t try to connect our faith to our politics, the church has just retreated into being a “holy huddle,” focused on the “by and by,” so heavenly directed that it isn’t much earthly good. Such a faith, such eviscerated faith, is not the Biblical faith. Such a faith has no connection to all the great prophets, no connection to the Genesis narrative when God created everything, including the political realm, no connection with the God who so loved the world that he gave his only Son. The voice of the churches made a faithful difference during the civil rights movement and in the abolition of slavery movements in both England and the United States.
That is probably enough for now, except I would ask you to be praying right now and in the days ahead for all of the candidates, for this nation and all of its people, for healthy and strong leadership to emerge, and for our relationship and leadership in the world. Lord, have mercy. JWN
Leadership and Life - Volume One
At our Vision Review day on April 27th, I said that I would begin writing a column for our leaders that would be titled “Leadership and Life.” I also said that we would be recommencing our leadership days, which I anticipate happening between 2-4 times a year. Our first Leadership Day will take place on Saturday, August 16th, from 9-12. The reason I am committing to doing these columns and restarting these days is that I am seeing a need right now to help our leaders be leaders, to equip them, encourage them, inspire them, feed them, and celebrate them. I have been committed to thinking about leadership for many years now because I am very clear—as I am sure many of you have heard me say on numerous occasions—that things rise or fall upon leadership. In this series, which I plan to write every month, I will be sharing some pieces of scripture that have spoken to me and inspired me to keep on being a leader myself. I have learned things from God’s call to Abraham and Moses and Isaiah and Gideon and Jeremiah and Esther and Mary and Paul and Timothy that I would like to share with you.
Let us begin by looking at Jesus’ call to the disciples: “As he [Jesus] walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon… and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And he said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.’” (Matthew 4:18f)
In this story we not only see the beginning of discipleship—those are the follow me words—but also apostleship—those are the fish for me words. Before these two fellows, and then James and John soon afterwards (and all the rest for that matter) could go out and catch for Jesus, they had to be caught by Jesus. Once caught, though, they are invited to go catch. Jesus wants them to go catch because he wants all of the fish—that is all of us—to be caught up in his nets of love and grace.
I want to work a bit more on that phrase “once caught, go catch” because I think about leadership in a similar way. Before you can lead, you must be led. Our leadership for Jesus must be derivative to his leadership in us. Which then begs this question: Is Jesus your Leader? The leader of your life, your relationships, your minds and hearts and souls? Is Jesus your leader at work, at home, at play? We cannot lead folks, lead ministries, beyond Jesus’ leadership in us. When we put a cap on what we allow Jesus to do in us we put a cap on what Jesus can do through us.
Another thing I would like to say about Jesus and leadership is that we have no “ownership” to any piece of our leadership. Because we belong to Jesus—at least that is what we profess in faith—so does all of our leadership and ministry belong to him. It is not so much that we do leadership for Jesus, but that He does his leadership in us, with us, and through us. Now, to say that all leadership and ministry is about Jesus, that is belongs to Jesus, that it begins and ends in Jesus, can sound rather humbling—well, it is; but it is also freeing. Freeing because we can cast down the burden that leadership and ministry can often bring to any one of us. I know that it can be hard for some of us to remember that Jesus (along with the other persons of the Trinity) can run this world and can even run the church and our lives. Our job, our role and calling, is to show up, to sign up, to be willing to be used, and to align our lives in accordance with God’s desire and design upon our lives, His church, and this world.
One of the things that I must be very careful about in my own leadership is that I get into trouble when I go about leadership and ministry in such a way and at such a pace that I compromise or undermine or erode Jesus’ leadership and ministry in me. That is when I get “burned-out.” That is when I begin to push and lose perspective. That is when I forget that I am not in the project business, but the people business, and that finally all we do needs to be done in love
So, let me come back to you and to your leadership. The more you invite Jesus to be your leader in every aspect of your lives the more you give Him room to work his leadership in and with and through you for others. So, just where are with Jesus and His leadership in your life? Do you want to take your own leadership to the “next step?” Then let it start with letting Jesus take you to His step in your life.
Let us begin by looking at Jesus’ call to the disciples: “As he [Jesus] walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon… and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And he said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.’” (Matthew 4:18f)
In this story we not only see the beginning of discipleship—those are the follow me words—but also apostleship—those are the fish for me words. Before these two fellows, and then James and John soon afterwards (and all the rest for that matter) could go out and catch for Jesus, they had to be caught by Jesus. Once caught, though, they are invited to go catch. Jesus wants them to go catch because he wants all of the fish—that is all of us—to be caught up in his nets of love and grace.
I want to work a bit more on that phrase “once caught, go catch” because I think about leadership in a similar way. Before you can lead, you must be led. Our leadership for Jesus must be derivative to his leadership in us. Which then begs this question: Is Jesus your Leader? The leader of your life, your relationships, your minds and hearts and souls? Is Jesus your leader at work, at home, at play? We cannot lead folks, lead ministries, beyond Jesus’ leadership in us. When we put a cap on what we allow Jesus to do in us we put a cap on what Jesus can do through us.
Another thing I would like to say about Jesus and leadership is that we have no “ownership” to any piece of our leadership. Because we belong to Jesus—at least that is what we profess in faith—so does all of our leadership and ministry belong to him. It is not so much that we do leadership for Jesus, but that He does his leadership in us, with us, and through us. Now, to say that all leadership and ministry is about Jesus, that is belongs to Jesus, that it begins and ends in Jesus, can sound rather humbling—well, it is; but it is also freeing. Freeing because we can cast down the burden that leadership and ministry can often bring to any one of us. I know that it can be hard for some of us to remember that Jesus (along with the other persons of the Trinity) can run this world and can even run the church and our lives. Our job, our role and calling, is to show up, to sign up, to be willing to be used, and to align our lives in accordance with God’s desire and design upon our lives, His church, and this world.
One of the things that I must be very careful about in my own leadership is that I get into trouble when I go about leadership and ministry in such a way and at such a pace that I compromise or undermine or erode Jesus’ leadership and ministry in me. That is when I get “burned-out.” That is when I begin to push and lose perspective. That is when I forget that I am not in the project business, but the people business, and that finally all we do needs to be done in love
So, let me come back to you and to your leadership. The more you invite Jesus to be your leader in every aspect of your lives the more you give Him room to work his leadership in and with and through you for others. So, just where are with Jesus and His leadership in your life? Do you want to take your own leadership to the “next step?” Then let it start with letting Jesus take you to His step in your life.
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