Digging Deeper: The Pastor's Blog
Below please find thoughts and information from FPCW Senior Pastor Stephen Hamilton Wright If you have comments or questions you would like to submit, please do so by e-mailing Pastor Wright Also, read more of Pastor Wright's thoughts at his public blog on the Wausau Daily Herald online edition "spirit sense"
A KNEE AND HUMILITY April 17,
2008
Members of the congregation at WFPC have been watching me hobble
around on crutches and cane and prop my foot up for over a month
now. Coming home from a continuing education event, I was hurrying
through an airport when I didn’t need to, took a funny step, and
tore the medial meniscus in my right knee. I’m not trying to make a
show of my injury—there are certainly people who have far worse pain
than I do, lasting years, and I know some of them very closely—but
it hurts a lot anyway, and when your job is to be up front, you make
arrangements to do your job as best you can, and people notice the
crutches, canes, stools, and slow steps.
I have been humbled by learning in a very direct way that a simple
step on a dry sidewalk can lead to this much misery. Several times
since the injury, I’ve been reminded that trying to “tough it out”
and push through will sit me down in pain again. It gives me even
better understanding of what some people experience day after day,
just trying to get along in life that might never be without pain
again. My agony is (I hope) temporary. For others, it is permanent.
I had surgery yesterday, very successful. Yesterday afternoon was
great. Little did I understand that my pain-free evening probably
had much to do with residual effects of extra anesthetic around the
surgical site, so that last night and this morning I did more than I
should have. Today I’ve been paying for it, up around 7 or 8 on that
famous 0-10 pain scale. It’s all right. I’ll live, move, and work
soon. In the meantime, I have greater sympathy for those who will
not shake their pains, and I thank everyone who understands and has
expressed prayers, cards and words of prayer for me.
WHAT’S UP BETWEEN CATHOLICISM
AND ISLAM? April 9, 2008
That’s a tricky title, because it has to do more with official
Catholicism as represented by Pope Benedict XVI, and perhaps not so
much to do with in-the-pew Catholics, or the decentralized doctrinal
and authority structure of Muslims. In advance of the pope’s visit
to the U.S. next week, Martin Marty has posted a probing and
thought-provoking piece called
“Careful, Catholics and Muslims! We
Quake!” at the Washington Post/Newsweek blogsite On Faith. Rather
than trying to summarize, I simply recommend this link. One very
interesting bit of Marty’s article is that the Vatican has recently
announced that the growth of Islam makes Catholicism now the second
largest religion in the world. This is interesting because all
Christians counted together comprise a larger group than Muslims;
however, for a variety of reasons, official Catholicism is choosing
to count itself separately from most of the rest of the Christian
world.
THE PREACHER’S JOB April 3,
2008
I’ve been thinking lately about what a preacher’s job actually
is. Underlying the identifiable activities—preaching, teaching,
planning programs, visiting hospitals and all the rest—what is the
purpose or goal of what I actually do?
My answer, I think, is that my job is to help people discover the
meaning and purpose of their own lives. Some would answer
differently, focusing more on proclaiming the way of Jesus and
bringing people into relationship with Him. That isn’t wrong, but I
think it needs to be framed in a larger context. What drives people
to spiritual discovery is the desire to understand and make sense of
their connection with everything around them. In other words, “What
is the meaning of my life?” and “What is my purpose?”
So, instead of providing ready answers, as some do, I see my role in
large measure as giving people vocabulary, images and concepts to
help them turn latent spiritual longing (the quiet yearning to
connect with the larger reality around us) into questions that can
shape a search. The second part of my task is to point them to ideas
and images that might help them answer that question. Very often,
but not always, those building blocks for answers are linked to a
particular religious or spiritual tradition. The might be the Bible
or the teachings and practices of various branches of the Christian
church; but they might also be Buddhist practices, or reading in the
scriptures of other faiths, as well as practices and teachings that
are not specifically religious.
It is also my job as a Christian preacher to show why I think the
Christian story is a very good resource, if not the very best, for
providing that framework of meaning. What it shows is that God loves
us in spite of our many failings, and wants to transform us into the
best beings possible. Jesus Christ is the human incarnation of that
great love, and his example both inspires us to respond in love and
shows us how.
THE USED CROSS March 31, 2008
There are so many ways to think about the meaning of the Cross!
The most common contrast might be between those Christians who think
of it as an empty instrument of execution, which could not finally
hold Jesus in death, and therefore a sign of glory; and on the other
hand those who commonly portray Christ on the cross in the midst of
His suffering. Both portrayals convey important dimensions of
meaning.
I want to suggest another possibility, that combines some of these
elements. What if we saw the Cross as an empty, useless, and rotting
instrument that did its work once, and never again can have the same
power? Think of it this way: the Cross is divine judgment against
the ways of coercion and division. It is as if God drove the base of
the Cross into the ground like an arrow piercing the heart of
wickedness. Bullseye. God wins. Death has killed Jesus, and can do
nothing more. The Roman soldier at the scene makes the
pronouncement: truly, this man was the Son of God.
That image comes between the empty cross and the Jesus-bearing one,
I think. The suffering Jesus is important, because we certainly
remember that. The empty cross is also important, because death was
not the end of the story. Rather, the cross ends death’s arrogant
claims. But it ends them by being modest, rather than boasting of
its own triumph. So maybe what we need is a tipped-over
cross—rotting at the base until it falls on its side. What if our
churches used that image: take the cross off the wall, and certainly
off the wires suspending it in mid-air, and slide it off to the
corner of the chancel, leaning against the wall. We could do the
same thing with jewelry: necklaces could attach the chain to the
cross near the middle, instead of at the top, so it would hang
diagonally.
I’m not entirely sure about this kind of symbolism, but that’s
another thing about the Cross: we never understand it completely, we
don’t control it, and we don’t get the last word.
DISAGREEING WITH A PASTOR
March 19, 2008
You’ve heard the news: Barack Obama’s now-retired pastor
Jeremiah Wright has been in the news lately for some pretty
provocative comments in past sermons. You probably have heard clips
of some of those comments. Chances are you’ve also heard part of
Obama’s response. Without making any judgment about Obama’s larger
campaign, I think he made a good answer, much like most of us
would—or should—give.
It starts with the recognition that the controversial sound bites
should be heard in the larger context of the full sermons
surrounding them, and even more, the tradition in which those
sermons were preached. That does not mean that even in context the
comments were appropriate, but placing them in their full cultural
and religious setting helps answer the question, “Why on earth would
a Christian minister say those things?”
There is a larger recognition that every preacher has said
things—probably lots of things—with which even the most faithful and
loyal members and friends disagree, both socially and theologically.
Some of that is just difference of opinion, and some comes about
because of different perspectives and insights related to different
training and education. There is also another factor: part of the
work of preaching is to push people out of their comfort zones at
least a little bit, toward an authentic encounter with the Holy and
what God wants us to do with our lives. One of the ways to do that
is with statements that some will find offensive, especially if not
clearly connected to the context. It’s not that preachers are all
called to serve as religious “shock jocks,” but faithful Christian
preaching spends a lot of time working to open up new ways of
thinking about the world.
Obama’s relationship with his former pastor and his church sounds
pretty normal, and I am glad he talked about it publicly.
Presbyterians certainly are not strangers to the experience of
hearing controversial things from the pulpit or denominational
offices. Obama’s congregation, in the United Church of Christ, would
be used to hearing the same kind of content, in addition to the kind
of emphases being a socially active African-American congregation
would bring. But hearing things we don’t like or with which we
disagree doesn’t mean we disavow either the congregation or the
preacher. Church connections are much more complicated than
that—they include weddings, baptisms, funerals, and a whole lot of
good work together along the way. That’s a picture of the kingdom of
God: when we come together in spite of our differences, it’s good
for everybody. That’s what God wants.
THE WORDS THAT AREN’T THERE March 18, 2008
So, I keep learning things. I hope you do, too. The official Easter
gospel reading for this year is Matthew 28:1-10, Sunday morning at
the empty tomb. To understand it fully, you have to back up a few
verses, into chapter 27. In the late verses there, Roman governor
Pontius Pilate tells some Jewish leaders and his own Roman soldiers
to go to the tomb of Jesus and make it “as secure as you can.” A
more literal translation from the original Greek of the New
Testament would be to make it “as secure as you know how.”
This is in response to a reminder from the Pharisees and chief
priests that Jesus had predicted not only His own death, but rising
on the third day. They come saying that they want to prevent a great
deception, should the disciples try to steal the body and say Jesus
had risen. Pilate’s command in response suggests that maybe he
wondered if something beyond them all was at work here. He could
have said, “Go and make it secure,” and left it at that—done and
done. Instead, he left the door open to the possibility that a
bigger power than all of them was at work: “Go and make it as secure
as you know how” suggests that his crack Imperial soldiers, the
superpower army of the day, might not have what it takes to stop a
reality that none of them really understood.
Not that we have Easter all sorted out—we certainly don’t! Pilate’s
mysterious extra words might remind us that the reality of God is
far different than what we expect. For Pilate, the possible new life
of Jesus was beyond understanding, but he seemed to sense that its
most important expression would be right here, on the earth we share
before our death, and that it would be a mighty force for change.
ATONEMENT IN ORDER
25 February 2008
Western Christians have been taught for several centuries that
redemption and salvation come through the atoning sacrifice of Jesus
on the cross. While there is some Biblical support for a view
something like that, the sacrificial view is rooted in Israel’s own
misunderstanding and misuse of sacrifice, and advanced by the
medieval culture of feudal and monarchical legal systems. We need
another model.
Consider the possibility that atonement and redemption actually
happen with incarnation, when the power of God becomes human in the
person of Jesus. This person brings true holiness into human
experience in a way beyond what anyone has experienced before. When
the Gospel of John says that the eternal Logos “lived among us”
(John 1:14, NRSV), the new English is thin—older, richer
translations said “dwelt among us,” which is a little better. The
sense—and a possible translation—is that the Word in Jesus “pitched
his tent” in the middle of our lives and stayed there, and is still
there. I envision something like the magic tent where Harry Potter
and friends camp for the World Quidditch Cup—from the outside it
looks entirely ordinary, but inside is a completely new reality
where there is room for all who would come.
Atonement, therefore, happens when the power of God appears in our
midst, and changes the way we relate with each other and the rest of
the world. This is why the Gospels bother to report the life of
Jesus prior to Holy Week—the way he lived, and the way we live,
matters enormously. It matters not with an eye toward future
salvation, but because people who are already redeemed care
profoundly about the current experience of others. In this model,
the crucifixion is a consequence of atonement, rather than the
enabling cause: it shows that God shares our entire human
experience, including suffering at the hands of evil.
Careful, though! In Jesus the power of God shares in our suffering,
but suffering in itself is not redemptive. The suffering of Jesus
does not save us. Suffering is the result of being deeply at odds
with the systems and expectations of the world. These do not
tolerate the kind of deep commitment to others in community that
Jesus represents, because profound community lowers the seats of the
powerful. The powers of the world conspire to kill Jesus, and he
must eventually submit, because to do otherwise is to capitulate to
and cooperate in their community-dividing evil. Giving Pontius
Pilate some kind of answer that might have led to freedom would be
to surrender to the sway of evil. Staying on course toward execution
is ultimately a slap in the face of all evil threats—once they have
killed Jesus, they can do nothing more.
This does not mean that followers should intentionally seek
suffering, or tolerate conditions that perpetuate it. In particular
we must never encourage or instruct others to endure suffering in
hope that doing so will redeem the situation around them. Jesus
himself did none of these things. Instead, if suffering comes as
part of the effort to build stronger and stronger community—not
civic community, but human community, which is a more profound
reality—then we suffer together, rather than risking division. Thus
again, in the incarnation of community, atonement and reconciliation
become real, and lift us beyond suffering as an ultimate or final
experience.
THEOLOGY ON PURPOSE
February 21, 2008
Not that anybody should be doing this—but anyone who happens to be
tracking my career could mark down 2008 as the year that I
intentionally claimed my calling as a theologian. As a matter of
fact, it happened today, February 21, one day after the twenty-fifth
anniversary of my ordination.
It wasn’t a decision that I had been pondering, at least not in this
specific form. Instead, in between study groups, on my way back to
church after a quick trip home to let my dogs out, it hit me: in the
last couple of weeks, I have talked about theology in more depth
more publicly than I have in a long time—perhaps more than ever—and
I realized that this is what I need to be doing. The response from
my discussion partners has been engaged and enthusiastic—this is
what they need most from me, I think. This is what I need to do to
stay sane professionally as well as personally. Therefore, while my
personal theological journey of late has had much to do with
questioning how we can rightly describe God and even what the nature
of God’s reality actually is, it seems right to say that I am most
in harmony with that Reality when engaging others in serious
theological and spiritual discovery and learning.
You might wonder why this seems like such a big step for a preacher.
Good question. After all, we talk out loud and in public about God
at least fifteen or twenty minutes a week, in the middle of working
our hour on Sunday! It is an important recognition for me because
for all my professional life, at least, I have been pulled in so
many directions by so many activities and expectations that can be
part of a pastor’s job that I have not allowed the specific work of
serious theology to emerge—in fact, sometimes, I have intentionally
suppressed it, feeling that it would hinder other parts of my work.
These recent conversations and my own inner discovery tell me that I
was generally wrong about that, but it is also true that I am far
from the only pastor ever to act in that way.
But now, my “inner theologian” is released for public view. And now
that I’ve figured out what I’m actually doing, it might be part of
the reason that we’ve been running out of pre-printed sermon copies
after worship, and why people are asking questions about arcane but
important subjects like atonement and universal salvation.
A lot of people have pushed me toward this new self-understanding,
some close by, some in books. It’s been a very interesting journey
that surely is not finished. For now, though, it feels pretty good.
UNBELIEVABLY BIG LOVE February
14 2008
Here’s a little more about connecting to God through Jesus. I
affirm that Christ is the universal saving agent, much in the same
way that I believe that whatever people worship as their ultimate
spiritual power is what Christians, Jews and Muslims all call God.
When Jesus says in John 10:16 that "I have other sheep who are not
of this fold," I think this is exactly what he is talking about. God
(and Jesus) is more loving, gracious and inclusive than we can begin
to imagine. Think of the story--Jesus came into the world because
our spiritual ancestors couldn't figure it out any other way. But I
surely believe that there are fine people outside the Christian
tradition whom God eagerly includes in eternal fellowship, whatever
exact form that fellowship takes.
If you can make room in your understanding of God to allow grace and
love to get that big, I don't see that as diluting Christian faith
in any way. Instead, you are letting your faith in God's goodness
and power get even larger.
In fact, I believe that God even makes room for people who are
generally labeled as atheists, first of all because everyone
believes in some kind of ultimate reality, whether they really think
it through or not, and that's what God is--ultimate reality that is
finally beyond all our description; and secondly, because God is in
the end impossible to comprehend fully and completely, I don't think
we can expect that God (or Jesus) requires everyone to believe or
approach in the same way we do. If this way works for us, that's
great; but Christians make up only a little over a third of this
planet's population, and with all I've been taught all my life about
God's love for everybody, I just can't stick with the idea that the
only way for people to be eternally close to God is by coming
through a Christian church or in some other way becoming acquainted
with Jesus in the way we think of him.
THE ONLY WAY TO GOD? February
12, 2008
I had a question this morning from a person on a theological
journey. The person wanted to know whether Presbyterians think that
“Jesus is the only way to God.” That’s a question a lot of people
share; I hear it actually discussed out loud in various ways. Let me
offer this short response: while there are Presbyterians who believe
that Jesus is the only way, far more are willing to allow God to
work in whatever way God chooses. Officially we teach that
ultimately Jesus is Lord and Savior of all, but the way most
Presbyterians understand that and the way I think it is intended is
that Jesus functions as a sort of "cosmic overseer," monitoring the
process and gathering up the results of all the ways people find to
relate to the Ultimate, whether directly through Jesus, or as Jews,
Muslims, Hindus, or by some other path.
As always, I’d love to hear what others are thinking.
E-mail me, or call
or visit.
A FULLER CIRCLE February 11
2008
Lately I discover that I’ve been coming around to where I started.
I’m not sure why my journey has turned this way at this time, but
what I mean is that more and more, the themes and ideas that were
important to me when I first started studying religion, way back in
college and even before that in confirmation class, are important
again. They keep coming up in what I think, preach and teach.
I plan to write about these ideas over the next few days, but to
start the conversation, here is a short list: faith as a community
exercise, with community as its purpose (see Jeremiah 31:31-34 and a
whole lot of Jesus’ teaching); the need for deep humility and
modesty when talking about the idea of God; and understanding
foundational elements of the faith story such as miracles,
supernatural events, and virgin birth and resurrection as dynamic
symbols that express truth beyond literal history instead of facts
to prove or use as tests of true faith.
It’s okay to keep thinking about theology. Not to do so means we’ve
stopped thinking about our connection with the biggest spiritual
power there is, and that’s not good. It’s also okay to change what
we think—at least our thinking should get deeper and more mature.
When I say I’ve circled back, it’s also true that my understanding
of these concepts is much more complex than it was thirty-five years
ago. Everyone should be open to such a journey. I’d love to hear
about yours.
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