Why Bother?

Posted on September 21, 2013 by smaxreisert

In the aftermath of the Washington Navy Yard mass killing, I heard one of the investigators talk about the thorough investigation that was in process—that law enforcement was committed to finding out everything it could about why Aaron Alexis chose to kill so many people, and how it was possible for him to do so. In my head, I was asking another “why.” Not about why he had done this horrible thing, but why should we bother to investigate every last detail. Will it matter? Will it finally motivate this country to think about guns differently? I doubt it.

Using the most recent CDC estimates for yearly deaths by guns in the United States, it is likely that as of 9/18/2013 roughly 24,680 people died from guns in the United States since the Newtown shootings (according to http://www.slate.com). That’s more people than live in the small city that Old South is located in, and the larger city, Augusta, just next door.

Is this an issue for people of faith? For the church? Sure it is. But, it’s hard to know where to begin, or what to do, when the problem appears so insurmountable. We are stunned by senseless acts of violence, but we seem incapable of moving our horror to any kind of action that is meaningful.

Jon Stewart, on The Daily Show, offered one of the most compelling, yet utterly and completely depressing, assessment of the situation we are in, where politicians will argue for the unwavering sanctity of the constitutional guarantee of gun ownership, yet look upon other provisions of the constitution (especially in regard to keeping the country supposedly safe from terrorists) as not quite so sacred. You can see The Daily Show piece here:
http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/wed-september-18-2013/depressingly-familiar-post-tragedy-analysis—a-homicide-pact

Unfortunately, I don’t have much of anything especially enlightening to share, but this is what I’ve been thinking about for the past several days, and praying over—that we’ll start to find our way to a more meaningful response to the violence that is part of our lives. I really don’t want to be so pessimistic, but it is simply overwhelming to me that so many horrific examples of gun violence—not to mention those cases of gun violence that are not horrific enough to make it to the news—cannot motivate meaningful conversation about reasonable gun control.

Silly me, I still believe there is such a thing as reasonable gun control.

Most of us—even Republicans it turns out—somehow are able to understand that there is such a thing as reasonable violations of privacy, in order to keep the country safe. I cling to the hope that we will get to that place where we can talk about and adopt reasonable gun control.  It’s clear, though, that we aren’t there yet. So, another group of people has fallen victim to our ornery ways. I pray for their families. And I pray too for the next group of victims, as well as investigators who will tell us why and how—until the whys and the hows really sink in and push us to act.

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Is It All About the Buildings?

Posted on September 14, 2013 by smaxreisert

Sacred Heart Church, the Roman Catholic church in Hallowell, just around the corner from Old South, is likely to close soon, probably at the end of next month. It’s really no surprise. Everyone in town seemed to be aware that the Diocese had promised to keep it open only as long as the church’s aging priest could serve the church. But Father George passed away last month.

And now, there’s a growing movement afoot for the people of the parish, and the small city of Hallowell, to organize themselves to try to save it—despite the fact that the number of active members is small and the campus is large. And, it’s only a couple of miles to the next closest Roman Catholic Church, in Augusta.

This story is not new in Central Maine, where the population is aging and most communities are not growing and the percentage of population that self-identifies as Christian is stunningly low. Churches close. And the people who love them try to save them—even those who don’t attend.

Since hearing about this most recent of likely church closures, I’ve been thinking a lot about church buildings, and my own attachment to the church buildings of my life. Maybe I’m just completely lacking the sentimental or church loyalty gene, but I just can’t imagine committing myself to trying to save a church that is destined to close.

Take the church of my childhood. The church that I grew up in, in suburban Boston, was large and I remember knowing every corner. As an extremely active church youth (youth group, committee member, Sunday School teacher), I spent part of several days of most weeks at my church. Especially in youth group, where our favorite game was Sardines, I came to know the church building intimately. I even remember the time when we convinced the youth group leader to let us into the church office, where all of the keys to the various parts of the church were kept. One of my friends knew exactly what he was looking for—the keys to the tower and the church belfry. We unlocked the door to the tower on that Sunday evening, and climbed up to the controls for the bell and managed to ring the bell before the youth group leader knew what was happening. We waited breathlessly for an angry visit from the church pastor, who surely must have heard the bell ringing when it should not have been ringing. But, alas, he never showed up.

Yet, these memories don’t translate into a feeling of devotion so strong that if I discovered that that church was slated for closure that I would set about trying to save it. In fact, spending some time thinking about this issue reminds me that what I loved about that church really wasn’t the building at all. Grand as it was, my warm memories are for the people who were that church for me. If that building were to disappear, my memories wouldn’t go away. And, more than that, the reality of that building doesn’t make my memories any more precious.

Sure, I would be sad, very sad, if I were told that the church of my childhood and youth had arrived at its sunset. But, I still can’t imagine experiencing the kind of feeling that would motivate me to try to alter its path.

Church people ought to reflect on their relationship with the building in which they gather, or once gathered. It is especially important that church people consider the degree to which they cast the building as an idol. If the church means anything to us at all, in a religious and spiritual way, we should know that we must not worship the building that has been erected for the practice of our faith. It’s not Christian.

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The Religion of Youth Sports

Posted on September 7, 2013 by smaxreisert

In the last couple of decades, it’s been an often heard complaint in churches in the United States that many children, young people, and parents have been lost to sports. Sunday morning sports practices, in particular, are pointed to as especially damaging to church attendance and Sunday School rolls.

Over the years, I’ve heard this complaint countless times. The problem though is that, in the church, people rarely move on from that complaint to wonder about why this dynamic is going on and why it has been so damaging. After all, sports are not—technically speaking—required of children and youth. Not the school department, nor the government, require any parent to register their child for the local youth soccer league—or little league, or peewee football, etc.

So, why is it that sports have become part of the bedrock of childhood in America?

I recently had a conversation with a good friend whose child is now attending the junior high school that my son attends. I mentioned that one of the highlights of my son’s experience (who does participate in sports, I should note) has been the junior high jazz band, which rehearses one day each week after school. This friend responded by saying that the jazz band just won’t fit into her child’s schedule. Without any hesitation at all, she declared, “Sports come first.”

Why is this? The reasons are many and complicated. But, one of the reasons that has become very clear to me, as I attend back to school open houses, as well as social gatherings at the homes of my friends who have school-age children, is that while sports may very well be a good experience for the children, the world of youth sports is also significant and important for the parents.

On the sidelines and in booster groups, parents meet each other, and make new friends. Also on the sidelines, parents do business. Parents who own businesses wear their business shirts, emblazoned with the business logo, or they sponsor the team’s t-shirts (sometimes in quite large and outlandish ways, with the name of the team smaller than the name of the sponsoring business), so that other parents will know where to go when they need something.

The sidelines of a youth sports game have become the modern equivalent of fellowship hour at the local church. In essence, the sidelines of a youth sports game are where community is created and nurtured.

In so many ways, youth sports have taken the place of the church. It’s where parents expect their children to learn certain values of teamwork, competition and that practice is important to competence—and in some cases, even the significance of prayer! It’s also where parents expect to find community and friendship for their children and for themselves. It’s where parents find that common ground to begin a new conversation with a stranger.

And, sports provide an easier language than religion. It’s one thing to go up to a stranger to talk about soccer or baseball. It’s quite another to go up to a stranger and ask a question about their faith.

I’m not sure what this means for the local church in these days, but when I’m surrounded by youth sports parents, I am aware that the local church is up against a lot—and certainly more than they realize.

It’s not enough just to complain about youth sports, and that youth sports leagues have “stolen” children and families from us. We, in the church, must grapple with the religious components of youth sports, to understand why families are drawn to sports, and what we may be able to offer as an alternative. Sports, after all, are not for everyone.

Church people must contend with the religion of youth sports, and the spiritual dynamic that parents find meaningful and satisfying in youth sports. If church people are serious about wanting to attract families, they must be find the courage to get beyond the complaining and to be open to learning about youth sports and then to find new ways of articulating and sharing the good news of their Christian faith.

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Churches, Pastors, Marriage and Bylaws—Oh, My

Posted on August 31, 2013 by smaxreisert

The Huffington Post recently published a story on conservative Christian churches that are enacting bylaw changes to guard themselves from possible lawsuits when they turn away same sex couples who wish to be married. [“DOMA, Gay Marriage Rulings Prompt Churches To Change Bylaws,” 8/24/13] These kinds of stories have been floating around for a while: the concern that the denial of marriage to some people will invite legal action.

Maybe I’m going out on a limb here, or perhaps sharing a secret that I should be keeping to myself, but I deny weddings to couples on a regular basis at Old South. So far, even though gay marriage is now legal in Maine, I haven’t—at least not knowingly—denied a wedding to a gay couple. But, I have denied plenty of others.

So, what are the reasons why I’ve turned away couples wishing to tie the knot at my church?

1. Not enough notice. Sometimes people call me when their anticipated wedding date is only a week or two away. Sorry. No can do. I am not a justice of the peace. I don’t work at a Las Vegas wedding chapel. I’m a pastor of a Christian church. I require plenty of notice, mostly because I require pre-marital counseling—and, that brings me to the next reason.
2. Premarital counseling. I require it and some couples don’t want to do it. True, most couples live together before they get married. But, it turns out, living together doesn’t actually mean that couples have discussed all of the important things that come with marriage. Do they plan to have children? How many? How will they take care of those children? And, one of the most important questions that many couples have never talked about: what happens if one of them is offered a fabulous job opportunity that requires a move?
3. Church rental. Sometimes a couple, especially if they live in the same small city where Old South is located, just like the look of the church and think that it would be a great place to get married. I get calls that pose the question, “Is it possible to rent the church for our wedding?” And, then the pause and the following question, “And I’d like to have my Uncle So-and-So do the wedding.” No. You can’t “rent” the church without “renting” me. The sanctuary is not a rental hall.
4. Religious stuff. There are some phone calls that get through a lot of the preliminaries before they ask the question about religion. This question usually involves a lot of hemming and hawing, but basically comes down to this: “Can we have our wedding at your church and have you not mention God?” The answer: No.

I turn people away on a regular basis. I suspect that at some point I may also end up saying no to gay couples too. But, not because I have a problem with gay marriage. I don’t. Just like the heterosexual couples that I marry, homosexual couples will need to follow my rules too.

The rules that I’ve set are not meant to give people a hard time—just because. My intention is to set a tone, to honor the worship space, and to preserve its dignity and significance. The rules are set to create an atmosphere that reminds everyone that marriage is sacred and holy. It’s not just about the dress, or the photographs or the great party. It’s about the most important day in a couple’s life, when they make promises that are hard to keep, and when they embark on a journey together that creates a new family, a place of companionship, support, encouragement, and love—a place where each of them has the possibility of becoming more fully themselves than they could by living alone or outside of those deep and abiding promises.

My approach, and my rules, may be “old fashioned,” but I’m sticking to them—because that’s part of what I am called to do as a Christian pastor.

I think those churches that are enacting bylaw changes just to spell out clearly and defiantly that the Bible teaches that a marriage can only be between one man and one woman are not really doing themselves any favors. Although I completely disagree with their interpretation of scripture, I believe all churches have not only the right, but the responsibility, to conduct weddings in accordance with their faith and understanding of God’s wishes. The bylaws of those churches likely already articulate who they are and the understanding of their mission. To change bylaws simply because they are afraid of possible civil rights lawsuits is a sad commentary. If those churches spell out marriage as between one man and one woman, perhaps they also spell out that marriage may not be the ideal state for followers of Christ, in accordance with the teaching of 1 Corinthians 7?

Churches, and their pastors, should not be driven by fear—of anything. They should live their faith, in love and in hope, in accordance to how the Spirit speaks to them.

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An Experience Thing

Posted on August 17, 2013 by smaxreisert

Last Sunday’s New York Times “Sunday Review” section highlighted an opinion piece on the new dimensions of activity and experience offered at art museums and other cultural institutions. The essayist was not especially enthusiastic about these new opportunities, reflecting that “something will be lost” if museums follow the route of “experience” businesses.

Just a few hours before reading this piece, I was engaged in a conversation with a museum curator and in that conversation, I gushed about one of my favorite installations at the museum where she works. That installation included, guess what, a participatory element. My family and I loved it.

Aside from my squirmy moment, realizing that I’m just another of the hordes that wants “experience” and “participation,” I found myself wondering about how this trend and dynamic relates to the church. Is one of our problems in the old mainline church that we don’t offer enough “experience” and “participatory” elements? Or is the “participatory” is not “participatory” enough or not modern enough?

We have a choir, open to anyone. We sing hymns. We say prayers in unison. Occasionally, we even have a passing of the peace, where we shake hands and share the peace of Christ with each other.

Is this not participatory enough? Not enough “hands on”?

Should the old mainline church follow the path of other venerable cultural institutions and find ways of offering new and different, participatory elements to who we are and what we do?

It appears that it’s simply not enough for the 21st century person to gaze upon a Monet or Rembrandt painting, or a Rodin sculpture. We want a more direct experience, to participate in some way in the art, to feel a part of it.

Perhaps that’s something to consider in the way we do church. It may not be that we are “doing it wrong,” but that the modern sensibility is looking for new ways of engaging old ideas and things. In a world of video and computer games, this may not be all that surprising.

The New York Times essayist was concerned that “something will be lost” in this transition to a more participatory approach to art. I share that concern, for the world of art and for the church as well. But, in terms of church life, something already is lost—active participation and attendance of people under the age of 50. This is true in Maine, anyway.

In churches like the one I serve, it may be worth exploring new and different ways of offering participatory experiences—although, of course, “new” is a bad word for lots of currently active church goers. But, it’s simply not enough to hang onto old ways of doing things just for the sake of comfort and security.

More participatory dimensions of worship and religious expression may be good for all of us, as we seek to explore gain a deeper, and more fulfilling, religious and spiritual experience. As I discovered personally, more “hands on” art can be wonderful, meaningful, and memorable. Church life should certainly be that—and more.

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Did the Dinosaurs Know that Extinction Was on the Way?

Posted on August 9, 2013 by smaxreisert

Maybe I just need a vacation, but I’ve been wondering and thinking a lot about the sense I have that my profession, as a clergyperson, is not long for this world. Not in Maine, anyway. A long time ago, I thought that I would likely be able to do this kind of work—parish ministry—until I was ready to retire. But now, though I’m not quite fifty, and I am increasingly certain that I will not be able to continue to be a parish minister, and get paid for it, well into the future.

I’m a dinosaur. At least in Central Maine, I’m a dinosaur, just teetering on the edge of extinction. Perhaps I would be less morose about the whole thing if I had a way of moving away, to a place where I would feel less like I was dancing on the precipice. But, I can’t easily move away. My husband has a great job as a college professor. My teenage children are not eager to move. And, truth be told, except for my shaky future job prospects, I’m reasonably happy living where I live. We have lots of friends. We have a house on a lovely Maine lake. And, more than that, we’ve put down roots here. As a family, we are active and involved in the community—on local boards and committees, and sports teams, etc.

When I get together with other clergy in central Maine, I am astonished that they don’t seem to appreciate my point of view. They don’t seem to understand that their profession, in terms of being able to work for compensation after a lengthy time of professional education and preparation, and ordination, is heading for extinction. To the extent that they do, they also recognize that it won’t have much of an impact on their lives, as retirement is much closer for them—or has actually already arrived (I must admit that it’s a mystery to me why anyone would choose ministry as something to take up in retirement, but that’s a different topic).

I recently attended a local clergy meeting where one of my clergy friends talked about a visit with a funeral director who talked about the training that he and other funeral directors are going through to learn how to lead memorial services. Another clergyperson at the table was outraged at the idea. “Why don’t they just call me,” she asked and then continued, “I’m just down the street.”

“Families don’t want you,” I replied. They don’t want us. If a family has never attended church, they very likely don’t want a clergyperson leading the memorial service. Years ago, even when someone never attended church, the family might still feel compelled to enlist a clergyperson to lead the memorial. No longer.

For me, it’s yet another clear sign that my profession is doomed, at least in this little corner of the world.

But, the clergy gathered around that table just looked at me as though I had five heads.

In central Maine, where church attendance is low and religious self-identification is increasingly “none of the above,” clergy are on the edge of extinction. Yet, they don’t seem to recognize their predicament.

The dinosaurs probably didn’t see it either. But, at least they had an excuse. Their brains were a lot smaller than ours.

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Does It Matter that Church is Good for You?

Posted on August 3, 2013 by smaxreisert

Slate.com recently ran an article about scientific research that indicates that singing in a choir is good for people. The article, written by a woman who’s recently published a book on the subject, began with a statement that she had at one time thought that “choir singing was only for nerds and church people.” She, of course, was neither.

But, during a bout of depression, she decided to join a community choir and, voilà, her problems were solved. In the process, she discovered that there’s some very compelling scientific research to back up her experience. She concludes, “Singing might be our most perfect drug; the ultimate mood regulator, lowering rates of anxiety, depression and loneliness, while at the same time amplifying happiness and joy, with no discernible, unpleasant side effects. The nerds and the church people had it right.” [“Ode to Joy” by Stacy Horn, posted on http://www.slate.com 7/25/13]

This is just the latest of a long string of studies that suggest that what religious organizations do is actually good for people.

A study using data from the Women’s Health Initiative found that women aged 50 and up were 20% less likely to die in any given year if they attended religious services, compared to those who never attend religious services. (from Psychology and Health, 17 November 2008). Religion is good for men, too. Sociologists have found that men who attend religious services more than once a week live, on average, seven years longer than men who don’t attend services.

And there’s still more. Religion, in turns out, is good for children and youth as well. In particular, religion is shown to function as a coping mechanism to provide youth with resiliency against negative peer pressure without accompanying decreases in self-esteem. Religion decreases risky behavior among adolescents and increases healthy lifestyle choices. [Mental Health, Religion & Culture, Vol. 5, 2005]

But, does any of this research make any difference? Does it motivate even one new person to check out religious services? Or, is it like the obesity epidemic where, despite the overwhelming scientific evidence that some foods are bad for you and will very likely cut your life short, many people just keep on eating the kind of foods that make them obese?

The scientific evidence that church (and other religious services) is good for people is certainly nice to hear, but it’s not really news to me. It’s what I see on a regular basis at Old South.

I can’t help but feel that little twinge of worry, though, when I encounter another piece of news that backs up my lifestyle, that includes going to church on a regular basis, because in my experience (and there’s more of that than I’d like to admit these days) it won’t make a bit of difference to the church that I serve. Those who are there know this stuff already. It’s why they keep coming. For those who aren’t coming, though, it doesn’t matter what the research says. They are staying away.

I can’t help but worry—about the long-term viability of the church that I serve and, as well about what it will mean for the community at large when churches no longer exist in the town square.

As the non-“nerd and church person” discovered, other community organizations provide some of the same kinds of services that the church provides. These days, one doesn’t need to attend a church to sing in a choir, for instance. But, still, this makes me sad. To hear a community choir sing “church music” (Handel’s Messiah, for instance) is just not the same as a church choir. It might be good to sing Messiah in a group, because it provides healthy benefits for the individual members of the group, but there’s just something missing—something important, I think—when the members of the group have no sustained connection to the words that they are singing, the theological and spiritual concepts that are conveyed by the words and the music.

The “nerds and the church people” may be right, but what happens when we run out of “church people”?

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What Happens When Someone Dies?

Posted on July 27, 2013 by smaxreisert

Many years ago, when I was still in divinity school, an old friend from college called me to tell me that her father had died. After sharing my condolences, my friend launched into something of an angry tirade. “Do you know what religion is all about?” she asked in a hostile tone. Without offering an opportunity to respond, she answered her own question, “It’s to tell little girls where their father’s go when they die.” Then, she began sobbing; I could hear her so clearly even though she was many, many miles away.

I knew enough to let her cry and to be angry. It was not the time to share with her my thoughts on the matter. I remember, though, the question that was going around in my head, as she chastised religion for setting her up and offering an answer to her grief that was less than satisfying. “So? What’s wrong with that exactly?” I wondered in my own head.

I was thinking about my old friend during my long drive home after attending the memorial service of a distant relative this past week. The relative, though raised in a church, had stopped attending church as an adult. His memorial service was a “celebration of life,” “a tribute,” and though it was held in a church sanctuary, it was not at all religious—no scripture, no homily. At one point, the funeral home director who led the service encouraged the members of the congregation to find comfort in their own religion or belief system.

But what about the guy in the box at the front of the sanctuary? What about his widow, his adult children, his grandchildren?

I understood the family’s desire to honor the dearly departed by keeping religion, especially Christianity, out of the service. But, to gather for a memorial service and only share memories seemed so empty to me. Is his life beyond death held only in the funny stories that his relatives and friends will share now and into the future?

I thought, too, of my many friends, who are so pleased that they have unfettered themselves from the shackles of organized religion, that they have rejected Christianity and all of its hypocrisy and unbelievable stories. I mean, what intelligent person can abide such nonsense?

But, what about the end of life? What hope do they turn to? What comfort is there for them? Is it really enough to say, is it more fulfilling to declare, that the entirety of a person dies when the body dies, that we live on only insofar as our loved ones talk about us? Is faith all about stupid fairy tales to keep people from asking the really difficult questions?

Faith and organized religion, like Christianity, are far from perfect and they don’t fully and neatly answer all of life’s big questions, but the modern equivalents don’t either. Can hope and comfort be found on the sidelines of a soccer field or at Sunday morning brunch with the New York Times?

I wonder about the trend to reject organized religion and all of its trappings. I wonder about the desire to be rid of mystery, to be rid of that which tugs at the spirit and whispers to us that there is more to life, and that life really ought not be arranged neatly with everything making sense to human intellect.

In my own personal moments of doubt, when I look at my faith and realize how absurd it all sounds, it’s the end of life part that is the hardest to consider letting go of. There is something in that story, in all of its ridiculousness, that I find compelling and hopeful, mysterious and life-affirming. In my moments of doubt, that is enough for me—the powerful message that despair and even death never have the last word for those who trust and live in faith.

My faith doesn’t keep the grief away. But, it does provide a sort of safety net, of hope and comfort, of some sense that there’s something that lives on even when my body finally gives up. My faith provides a sense of meaning, and a comfort in the familiar rituals of scripture, of hymns of promise, of connection with a Savior who experienced death himself, and isolation, and then of the empty tomb and, finally, those wonderful stories of his very real presence, like when Jesus joined two of his followers on the road, but they did not recognize him until they sat down to dinner.

What happens when someone dies? I’m not sure exactly, but I’d rather struggle with that question in the midst of faith, rather than in the limits of human intellect.

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Can My Soul Be Nurtured by Cookies?

Posted on July 19, 2013 by smaxreisert

I love cookies. I love eating them and I love making them. But, a few days ago, I found myself needing to buy some cookies. An old favorite came to mind—Milano, made by Pepperidge Farm. I had no idea that I would face so many choices of Milanos on the Milano shelf, but I finally settled on Milano Dark Chocolate.

When I got my little bag of cookies home, I put them on the counter in the kitchen. And that’s when I noticed what was on the back of the Milano package: “Can a cookie be good for the soul? We think so.”

Really? Is that what we’ve come to?

As organized religion recedes and/or is shoved to the sideline (at least where I live), it is fascinating to watch what is filling the void. We are spiritual beings, after all, and there is something in our souls that does need to be fed and nurtured, something in us beyond our intellectual and emotional selves that calls out for attention. I have a lot of friends who have either recently or long ago turned away from organized religion (just too full of crazy, unbelievable stories, or too full of hypocrites) and have, instead, turned to yoga, or other forms of exercise, or just taking solitary walks in the woods, or journaling. None of them, at least so far, has admitted that they’ve turned to cookies to nurture their soul.

It’s not that these endeavors are not good for one’s soul, and perhaps cookies too have certain benefits for one’s inner sense of well-being (so long as, I suppose, one does not overindulge). But, modern pursuits of the exercise of one’s soul seem rather flimsy to me. Sure, they can be done, more or less, on one’s own schedule, and they don’t involve dealing with a lot of difficult people with ideas of their own and who don’t practice what they, or their religion, preach.

Like lots of self-help programs, there are limits to what one can do oneself for one’s soul. There’s a reason why most successful addiction programs involve groups, gatherings of people. When people gather in groups weird and complicated and even unpleasant things can happen, but there’s also something strangely constructive about being around other people, especially people whom you might never meet otherwise, except in a place like a church. When people gather in an intentional way in a place or circumstance where they are encouraged to look after their own selves as well as the people around them, good things happen to everyone’s soul.

I enjoy cookies, perhaps sometimes a little too much, but they really don’t do anything for my soul. I like to exercise and take walks and, on occasion, I even find a moment to write a little in my journal. But, I can’t say that any of those things really feed my soul, certainly not in a deep way. It seems to me that to feed one’s soul, one needs to connect to another soul and to a group of souls, in a way where everyone recognizes their imperfections, yet everyone is striving to do better, to be a more giving and complete soul. This is difficult, perhaps impossible, to do on one’s own. A mirror is not an especially life-giving instrument.

I’ll keep eating cookies, although I may not buy more Pepperidge Farm Milanos when I’m stuck needing to buy cookies. I’ll remember that cookies do nothing more than feed my need for a sweet treat. I’ll keep the care of my soul to my faith, where it’s in much better hands, and in much better, though imperfect, company.

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The Things We Don’t Talk About

Posted on July 13, 2013 by smaxreisert

My sermon series at Old South this summer is focusing on evil. Where does it come from? How does it interact with our faith? What does it mean to say that God is good? Why do bad things happen to good people (and why do good things happen to bad people)? Is the “evil one” a “one,” an entity,” like we think of God, only the opposite? What, if anything, should we, can we, do about evil?

Evil is one of those topics that I believe is woefully lacking in mainline/progressive church and faith dialogue. In the wake of this lack of engagement, we get some profoundly problematic views on what evil is and how it operates in our lives and in our world. For lots of good, faithful church-goers, evil has become something that is a force that is completely separate from themselves. It is something that sometimes acts upon good church people (especially when something bad happens in a personal way to them or to someone close to them), but is not really a part of good church people. Evil is “out there,” and there are “evildoers,” but they too are wholly separate, different people, as if a completely different breed of humanity.

Not talking about evil and bad things has also created a repertoire of horrible responses to those times when bad things do happen—“God only gives you what you can handle,” “God needs [your child, your loved one] in heaven,” “Everything happens for a reason.”
Not talking about evil and bad things has also helped to empty our pews. Younger people hear those empty responses and, as well, feel that their deep questions, including questions about good and evil, are not welcome in most church environments. And, so they have left.

I probably would have left too, except that I was fortunate in my journey to find communities of faith and faith leaders who allowed deep questions to be spoken and who identified those horrible responses to terrible things as the horrible responses they were.

At Old South, our series is up to week 4. The first two weeks focused on Genesis 2 and 3, especially that serpent, the “craftiest wild animal that the LORD God had made.” Last week, because it was a communion Sunday, we considered lessons that might be gleaned from the communion table. Tomorrow, we’ll compare two passages that speak of “evil” in some way, one from the Old Testament (Isaiah 58) and one from the New Testament (the temptation of Jesus from Matthew).

While the series has not exactly raised the attendance numbers, which are low in the summer, I am finding that those who are coming to worship are really paying attention to my sermons and asking questions or responding with comments during coffee hour—and doing so in ways that are not typical. If my small sample community is any indication, there is a hunger and a desire to engage with difficult topics. There is interest and capacity to consider topics that are not tidy and neat, topics that raise more questions than answers.

It may be too late to make the kinds of changes that will turn the tide of church attendance, especially in a place like Maine where so few have any interest at all in going to any kind of church, but that doesn’t mean that we should not engage in these profound topics, such as evil. Even if all we do is alter the perspective of those few who still go to church, that will be enough.

And, for the clergy too, we need to tackle, in a public way, the problematic influence that the lazy mainline church has had on the larger culture (it’s not just church-goers who say problematic things when bad things happen). Who knows how our small numbers might influence those around them, sending out wave after wave of a deeper engagement with the “problem of evil” and how evil is not simply “out there,” but much closer to who we are and how we live?

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