Church Politics

I'm on the Bills and Overtures Committee of National Capital Presbytery, and we met last night to consider two overtures that would delete the section of the denomination's constitution that is used to bar the ordination of gay and lesbian candidates for ministry (and other ordained church offices). A friend asked me this morning for my reaction to the meeting, at which the committee decided to offer neither endorsement nor opposition to the proposed overtures. Here's what I told him:
I'm not at all clear on where things are headed within NCP. The conservatives seem to me to be the ones actively organizing right now. They have championed the change in the way we select commissioners to General Assembly. They have made specific pledges to uphold "b" a public litmus test for ordination. They have asked candidates to pledge to live in chastity or fidelity in marriage between a man and a woman, and thus raised Victorian sensibilities to the status of confession.
The call last night was OK -- neither a win nor a loss. I did not think it worth a fight for a small victory of marginal importance in that venue, so I voiced the opinion that sending the overtures to presbytery without comment from B&O seemed a faithful action. I believe that it was. I hope that compromise might be received as a small conciliatory gesture by conservatives who will be angry that anyone has the temerity to introduce an overture to delete "be" in the wake of the Peace, Unity, Purity task force report's call for a moratorium on legislation related to "b." Personally, I think we are seeing within NCP the continued toxic effects of "b" on the life of the church, and we've had a decade to discern that "b" does not further the peace, unity or purity of the church. How much discerning is necessary? When candidates are regularly subjected to inquisitions on the floor of presbytery concerning their sex lives, it's clear that the system is broken.
That said, I'm all for efforts to replicate the relationship building experience that the members of the task force enjoyed in their years together. Progressive and conservative members of that small body build something powerful and important together. But I don't think that is possible on a larger scale as long as "b" is in the constitution because it prohibits in advance the equality necessary for authentic relationships.
I lack the imagination to envision a non-legislative process for moving beyond this point, which is why I will continue, as long as I remain in the church, to stand with those who bring measures to delete "b" from its constitution. Not to put too grand a spin on it, but this is the Martin Luther moment for me -- here I stand, I can do no other.
Of course, conservatives will accuse us of grandstanding when we support another presybtery's overture. I look at consurring with the Hudson River overture as giving witness to our deepest convictions, even when they are not likely to prevail within the polity at this moment. Further, within our polity, such "grandstanding" is the way to have our voice heard at GA. It's only when a presbytery is willing to concur on a proposed overture that it can send someone to the assembly to advocate for it.
This is how we witness within the legislative arena of the church.
As you will have noted by now, I'm rehearsing a bit some of the points that we'll have to raise when arguing this before presbytery when it gets to that point. I'd much appreciate your perspective on all of this.

The Great Pumpkin

So, my 13-year-old is fond of posing this "eternal question": who's cooler, Jesus or Bob Marley?
As the pics of our punkin suggest, it's a tough call!
But what is beyond dispute? Just this -- there's nothing in the world cooler than carving Bob Marley's face into a gourd with a power saw! There were pumpkin bits flying all over the porch, and a few young trick-or-treaters were very frightened!
So, you be the judge: who's cooler?

We Shall Seek Peace

We Shall Seek Peace
Because the Creator of the Universe calls us to beat swords unto plowshares and spears into pruning hooks until nation does not lift up sword against nation,
We shall seek peace and pursue it.
Because preemptive war violates the tenants of just war theory and the charter of the United Nations, and is opposed by leaders of the world’s great religious traditions,
We shall seek peace and pursue it.
Because scripture calls us to seek the peace of the city, to be repairers of the breach and restorers of the city’s streets to live in,
We shall seek peace and pursue it.
Because the occupation of Iraq continues to breed violence and despair, and visit suffering on the most vulnerable Iraqis,
We shall seek peace and pursue it.
Because our faith teaches us to live in solidarity with the poor and the suffering, and to share in God’s boundless compassion and mercy,
We shall seek peace and pursue it.
Because the present war is sowing seeds of terror for future generations, and undermining hope throughout the Middle East, and because any attack on Iran will expand the present war in dangerous and unpredictable ways,
We shall seek peace and pursue it.
Because the Prince of Peace calls us to love neighbor, stranger and even enemy,
We shall seek peace and pursue it.

Fidelity and Chastity

The session at Clarendon just passed another overture to the denomination's General Assembly calling for the removal of the so-called "fidelity and chastity" clause of our Book of Order that was put in to deny ordination to gays and lesbians. As the process plays out again, I've been thinking a bit about what fidelity and chastity truly mean, and about how honoring the body is a part of faithful living -- although not a part touched on at all by those who would deny ordination to some classes of people simply on the basis of sexuality.
Truly honoring the body with fidelity and chastity is a profoundly counter-cultural practice, because it reminds us that we are beautifully made in the image of a loving Creator. Honoring the body reminds us that each and every body – no matter age or gender or sexuality or appearance or sickness or health or size or status – each and every body is fearfully and wonderfully made. Honoring the body, then, turns us toward the Creator and away from images and ideologies that would devalue and devour our bodies.
As with so much in Christian practice and theology, we will understand this better if we learn if from those who are poor; in this case, poor in body. I shared a meal some time ago at the L’Arche community in the District. L’Arche is a global movement begun in France about 40 years ago by Jean Vanier. L’Arch communities create homes for people with severe mental and, often, physical disabilities, who live with their helpers in community.
Toward the end of the evening I spent with them, Andrew, a young man who does not speak beyond grunts, took me by the hand and led me around making sure that I had met each member of the community, as we had gathered after dinners in a couple of houses in Adams-Morgan. Andrew has dancing, smiling eyes, and his grip on my hand conveyed an incredibly deep hospitality.
Sometimes, Andrew has trouble walking. He had a bruise on his chin where he had hit his face in a recent fall. I was deeply moved, that evening, by the community director’s simple question: can you imagine what it would be like if falling down were a regular part of your life?
That reminded me that some people know they have a body because it hurts.
A few years back, Jean Vanier spoke at Harvard, and he said,
"Many people know they have a head because they have learned that two and two are four. They know that they have hands because they can cook eggs and do other things. Many know they have a sexuality because they have experienced strong emotions. But what they do not always know is that they have a well deep inside of them. If that well is tapped, springs of life and of tenderness flow forth. It has to be revealed in each person that these waters are there and that they can rise up from each one of us and flow over people, giving them life and a new hope."
I’m still not sure I know what fidelity and chastity really mean, or if the progressive church can really receive any gift from these words that have done such great damage to so many over the past decade in our denomination. But if there is a gift there to be discovered, I believe it has something to do with the way that honoring our embodied selves can tap that well and allow life and tenderness and love and faithfulness and wholeness and holiness to flow in and through our lives and our communities.

Hacked by a damn bunny!

Hm, it seems my 13-year-old has hacked the blog. Pat the Bunny makes regular appearances on my desktop, so it's fitting that s/he should show up here, as well, for your benefit ... or something.

PAT THE BUNNY says HI!
()()
(**)
0( )0

Peace, Peace

Here's a poem for today ...

Peace, peace
But there is no peace,
No peace of mind
No peace of heart
No place for this journey of peace
To start
But here
In the way we treat this heart
Your heart, my heart
This moment
The way we tend to this test
A math test
A health test
A cancer screening
A film screening
Of what does or does not
Add up to a whole life
More than what flashes in front of our eyes
Before the screen fades to black
And there is peace

Church and Nation

Here's an agitation for the day that comes, interestingly enough, from James Carroll in a post yesterday at Common Dreams. The note concerning the origins of the Nicene Creed provides and instructive reminder that the earliest Christian profession of faith, "Christ is Lord," was a direct rejection of the Empire's required loyalty oath, "Caesar is Lord." To be Christian has always been to be engaged in politics, and not just any politics, but one that is profoundly challenging to the notion of empire. It's no wonder it's so difficult to try to be faithful in these parts these days.

Peace Words

I was invited to preach in Cleveland last weekend for Peacemaking Sunday, which got me to wondering “why me? What have I to offer?”
Oh, sure, my personal journey in peacemaking began more than 30 years ago with creating a counter-demonstration to the Armed Forces Day parade in my hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee when I was in high school, and, for certain it continued with many hours of study at Kent State’s Center for Peaceful Change as a college student and countless hours since studying the life and work of Martin Luther King, Jr., and it has included stops along the way in letter writing and public witness against America’s participation in wars in Central America and the Middle East.
Still, I don’t feel like I know much of the art of peacemaking.
In hopes of gaining some deeper understanding, this summer I plowed my way through James Carroll’s, House of War, a massive history of the Pentagon. Living barely a mile away from the place, it holds a certain fascination for me.
Carroll’s father, Joseph Carroll, was the founding director of the Defense Intelligence Agency and held that position through much of the nightmare of Vietnam – a war that divided James, then a radical young Roman Catholic priest, from Joseph, then working in the Pentagon, much as it divided the country.
In House of War, James Carroll reflects on his father’s death, which coincided with the beginning of the first Gulf War in January, 1991. He notes that one night, not too long after his father was buried at Arlington National Cemetery, just down the slope from the Tomb of the Unknown and overlooking the Pentagon, his son was awakened by a nightmare. As father held son, the little boy said he had dreamed of being in China and learning a Chinese word that, when uttered, would make it possible for parents to live forever, but he had forgotten the word.
Carroll writes, “My job in life has been the simple one of saying the word that will establish the reign of peace once and for all. This book was supposed to be that word. … That word … was going to save us all. But by now it is clear again: I can’t remember it either.”
Perhaps in search of that word, I made a pilgrimage a few weeks ago to Joseph Carroll’s gravesite at Arlington. As I walked through the rows upon rows of headstones, my reverie was interrupted more than once by the riffle shots of 21-gun salutes and the mournful notes of taps sounding the burial of young soldiers. The words of Lamentations came to mind as I gazed across the headstones toward the national Mall: “how lonely sits the city that once was full of people” … and of hope.
How can it be, I wondered, that 40 years after Dr. King warned of the spiritual death that awaits any nation that year after year continues to spend more money on weapons and warfare than it does caring for its children and its most vulnerable citizens has a Pentagon budget higher than the defense budgets of all the rest of the nations of the world combined? How can it be that 40 years after King lamented his nation’s place as the world’s greatest purveyor of violence that we continue to believe and, indeed, idolize the myth of redemptive violence?
How can it be that we suffer the collective amnesia that puts such a dense fog between us and any word or words of peace?

Arlington

I know little of the ways of peace
and even less of war's ways
but I do know something --
however geopolitically insignificant --
of the still, small voice
that speaks of life
even here, among the dead
if you come listening for it
and not some martial song
of honor, glory and courage

Signs of Hope

If you haven't seen it, check out video of the mayor of San Diego as he announces his support for marriage equality. It's a powerful testament to the possibility of change, and to the power of personal stories and connections in leading to change. Here's a Republican elected official from one of the more conservative cities in the country taking a public stand in contradiction not only to the position of his party, but also to the position he had himself staked out in his election campaign. Turns out that love for his daughter was more powerful than the politics.

Power and the Reign of God

A few random reflections prompted by praying in front of the White House ...
The reign of God announces a profoundly different kind of kingdom, not so much about power as it is about covenant fidelity – about steadfast faithfulness, about a Godly power that is concerned not with the acquisition of more power but, instead, concerned first and foremost precisely about the condition of those with no power. Imagine our rulers putting such concerns first – imagine Republicans and Democrats concerned not with who controls the Senate but with how the hungry are to be fed, not with who will win the White House but with how the sick are to be cared for, not with the culture wars of Red and Blue but with how a just and lasting peace can be constructed. This is not to say that there are no important differences between the parties, but it is to call deeply into question their quite similar, and similarly idolatrous, relationships to the question of power.
When, for instance, the psalms sing kingdom praises, they recall also the nature of God and of God’s power, telling us that this God “keeps faith for ever, executes justice for the oppressed, gives food to the hungry, sets the prisoners free, opens the eyes of the blind, lifts up those who are bowed down, loves the righteous, watches over the strangers, and upholds the orphan and the widow.”
We are called into relationship with this God. We are called to trust this God before any princes and rulers, any Democrat or Republican, and even and especially against the lure of so many socially constructed idols: militarism, consumerism and every other “ism” that tempts us to put our trust in something less than ultimate, something other than God. And we are called to put first in our lives the same concerns as this God puts first – precisely the concerns that all the false gods ignore or belittle: justice, welcome of strangers, compassion for the outcast and marginalized, shalom for all creation.
It's a different kind of commonwealth that governs the beloved community.

Prayers for Peace

Here's a photo from the White House witness, taken as we gathered at the fence to pray and lay stones. The guards allowed us to leave them there for about 10 minutes -- wouldn't want any long-term reminders of the 4,000 dead Americans and the tens of thousands of dead Iraqis.
We will return to remind them again and again and again.
Meanwhile, the stones themselves will cry out loud.

Kingdom Weather

Ran across this, today, in reading Walter Brueggemann's most recent, Mandate to Difference:
Dominant culture is committed to 24/7 about everything, about work, about play and self-indulgence, about instant availability by cell phone or whatever. There is no space left for the human spirit, and attentiveness to the underneath mystery of human life is totally eroded. No sabbath here!
Well, I think I'll shut down the computer, turn off the e-mail, and go for a walk on this absolutely beautiful autumn afternoon. Even in the midst of the darkness of these days, sun rises call out to us, the birds still sing, autumn flowers bloom and the sky is clear blue. We may make a mess of things, but creation awaits the beloved community with open arms. Sabbath time is essential to peacemaking and the work of justice.

The Next War ... and the One After That

The Outlook section of the Sunday Post opened with the most depressing headline imaginable: The Next War. The article beneath it, by former NATO commander Wesley Clark, details military lessons from Iraq and other recent American wars that ought to inform preparations for the next war.
Oh, sure, Clark closes with an almost obligatory final sentence, “The best war is the one that doesn’t have to be fought, and the best military is the one capable and versatile enough to deter the next war in the first place.” But the preceding twenty paragraphs are spent detailing how we need to keep up “skill in hunting and killing our foes” and improve our skills in “concealing and protecting our troops.”
Can one imagine a main stream paper such as the Post giving as much space to preparing for the end of war as they do to preparing for the next war? As long as the powers that be spend time, talent and treasure on preparing for war Plato’s words will remain true: only the dead have seen the end of war.

The Stones Themselves

I'm happy to report that no one got arrested this evening, but I believe the days for that may lie ahead. More than 100 folks showed up this evening to witness for peace in front of the White House. It was a spirited gathering, and that spirit is what leads me to believe that the days for disobedience lie ahead.
In any case, here's the text we used this evening, followed by my brief remarks.
Luke 19.35-45 -- Then they brought the colt to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying,
‘Blessed is the king
who comes in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven,
and glory in the highest heaven!’
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, order your disciples to stop.’ He answered, ‘I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.’

I want to share a few words spoken forty years ago by Dr. King in his famous call to break silence concerning Vietnam. King said, “The past is prophetic in that it asserts loudly that wars are poor chisels for carving out peaceful tomorrows. One day we must come to see that peace is not merely a distant goal that we seek, but a means by which we arrive at that goal. We must pursue peaceful ends through peaceful means.”
Those words are just a true today as they were when King spoke them to the Riverside Church in New York. As we stand here in front of the White House, witnessing for the peace we yearn to experience, we do so in the same spirit King invoked.
A few weeks ago, when the call came to continue the witness begun last March at the Cathedral, a few of us got together. As we talked, we shared our mutual disappointment that the voice of the church – so clear and strong in opposition to the war before it began – had become so tamed, so timid, so tepid, as the war drags on.
I think Jesus would long since have turned to the stones to cry out, because we, his followers, have been effectively silenced.
Last March, we broke that silence, and tonight, in places across the nation, we are echoing that silence-shattering call for an end to the war and the occupation.
It’s been a difficult week, and precisely that difficulty makes what we do here tonight all the more important.
Rick Ufford-Chase, the director of the Presbyterian Peace Fellowship and one of the conveners of the Christian Peace Witness for Iraq, sent out an e-mail a couple of days ago noting the darkness of these days.
He quoted Archbishop Oscar Romero, who, shortly before he was martyred, said, “try not to simply depend on hope, because unfulfilled hope leads to despair, and we have no need of despairing people. Try instead to be faithful.”
We are here tonight, not out of some false hope that our showing up in front of the White House is going to somehow change the policies that emanate from that building. We are not so naïve as that.
But neither are we despairing, because we come here with a deep and profound faith that the God who is Lord of history desires shalom. By our simple witness this evening we give voice to that deep desire for peace.
We do so tonight by taking up the long tradition of using stones to mark and remember, and we do so in the tradition of the prophet, Habakkuk (2:8-11), whose words we heard a few minutes ago. The Lord told Habakkuk to “write the vision; make it plain on tablets.”
Give it voice; make it clear; let the people understand. That’s what we’re doing tonight with these simple stones. So give it voice, make it clear, and let the people understand:
What do we want?
When do we want it?
Our permit is for a prayer liturgy … wouldn’t it be a shame if a rally broke out?
Actually, liturgy means, literally, the work of the people. I submit to you that the work of the people of faith is peacemaking. It’s not always quiet work. Sometimes it sounds like a rally; often it’s messy and noisy; usually it involves breaking silence; always it involves faithfully standing in the public square speaking the truth in love.
But it’s not just the truth in love, it’s that the truth is love.
Just as war is a poor chisel for carving a peaceful tomorrow, hate can never carve a space for love, nor can it ever speak truth.
Tonight, as we carry stones across this park and place them at the gates of power, we do so trusting that love will cast out all fear – even that deep fear casting such a pall over our time.
That trust is the mark of our faithfulness, and, to the extent that we dare to hope, that faith is the ground of our hope. That though the wrong seems oft so strong, the God of love and justice is the ruler yet. That though truth stumbles these days in the public square, ultimately we shall know the truth and it shall set us free from the lies that lead to war. That though the arc of the moral universe seems sometimes so very long, it does bend toward justice and to God’s shalom.
It is our work and our witness to bend it just a little further tonight.
(If you're in the DC area and would like to help continue and expand this witness, please send me a note: revdocdee@verizon.net.)

Permission Granted

After much run-around, we have finally secured permits for the Sunday evening peace witness. I hope this means that none of us will wind up in jail.
You never want to do these things too far in advance! Of course, the rules only stipulate 48 hours in advance notice, and we made our first calls a week in advance for an event that requires no extra security ... unless they're afraid of those who pray for peace. (Well, I suppose the fact that we'll have a bunch of rocks might intimidate -- but we'll begin in confession and remind ourselves that the one without sin can cast the first stone.)
Turns out, in the end, that a typical Washington maneuver was all we needed. When my friend Gene Betit got on the phone with the park police this morning he finally told the till-then uncooperative administrator that if she couldn't get the process moving that perhaps Gene's next call would have to be to his fellow parishioner, Jim Moran. Next thing you know, the approved forms were faxed our way.
What does it say about our democracy that a simple permit to assemble and petition the government is only made available when you happen to go to church with the right people? What does it say when you can only get a permit to gather to pray for peace in front of the White House if you happen to be personal friends with a member of Congress?
Just asking.

Questions & ANSWER

We continue to get the run-around on the permit for the planned peace witness on Sunday evening. The parks police (comically closed due to a power outage on September 11) initially told us that all permits for the entire weekend have been issued to the ANSWER coalition for the major demonstration they are holding on Saturday. A couple of calls to their DC office revealed that they have absolutely nothing planned for Sunday, leaving us wondering why the police won’t issue a permit.
Perhaps it’s because the powers that be understand something that most of us don’t want to grasp: there is genuine power in witnessing. The tools of nonviolence in acts of resistance can become a force more powerful.
That prospect may be threatening to the powers that be; they are sometimes even more threatening – terrifying, in fact – to those of us who would try to employ such tools, for they demand of us a willingness to let go of our own agendas and align ourselves with the long arc of the moral universe as it bends toward justice. Nonviolence requires a certain release of self interest and ego.
So as I look ahead to my own participation in an act of nonviolent witness on Sunday evening, what frightens me most is not the potential encounter with the police so much as the encounter with myself.