The Allure and Emptiness of Strength, in the Face of Advent

Posted on November 30, 2023 by smaxreisert

With Thanksgiving in the rearview mirror, we turn our attention to Advent and Christmas. In the midst this busy time and all of the difficulties this country (and the world) is facing, I (along with a whole lot of other people) continue to find myself puzzling over the strange allegiance of so many evangelical Christians to a certain former president. The media I read on a regular basis consistently admits to a general state of bafflement at the tenacious attachment of so-called Christians to the former president, now charged with various crimes, and sounding more and more brazenly thuggish and mean-spirited. Recent news headlines include: “Facing Off in Washington, DeSantis Tries to Shake Trump’s Hold on Christian Right” (New York Times, 9/15/23); “Donald Trump and Christian Nationalism” (Opinion, New York Times, 10/24/23); “Vulgarities, Insults, Baseless Attacks. Trump backers follow his lead” (Washington Post, 11/19/23); “The GOP’s top ‘person of faith’: More Republicans think Trump is religious than Pence, Romney” (Salon.com, 9/27/23).

Advent and Christmas offer an especially stark contrast between basic Christian teachings and the near constant barrage of utterances (verbal or otherwise) from the former president. So, I wonder: what’s going on here? My mother might offer a clue.

About a year ago, I was visiting with my mother at the nursing home where she now lives, as she continues her aggressive descent into dementia. We were in the nursing home’s atrium area and there was a television on, broadcasting the news. I don’t know what news story they were covering, but a video or a picture of the current president popped up. My mother pointed and said, “I don’t like him. I like the other guy.” I knew what she was talking about. My mother, a life-long Christian although not an evangelical, had been a big fan of Donald Trump and I am sure, if she were in a healthier state, she would be cheering him on still and forwarding obnoxious emails to relatives and friends about how great Trump is.

I asked her why, why she preferred that other guy to the current guy. She thought for a moment, furrowing her brow. Finally, she said, “strength.” After thinking a bit more she said, “The other guy was stronger. This guy [Joe Biden, who’s face had disappeared from the television at that point] is weak. Strong is better.”

Despite her dementia, my mother offers a bit of insight into what may be a steep, uphill battle to separate at least some self-identified Christians from their allegiance to Trump. There’s really no way another candidate is going to come across as stronger than Trump. Pretty much every other candidate is, more or less, in their right mind and is not an egotistical crazed power-hungry fanatic who will say anything to regain the presidency, including egregiously dangerous statements about power and strength.

Strength is certainly a significant issue. But, how do faithful Christians grapple with the complex intersection of strength, in terms of the teachings of Jesus, and strength, as an element of public and national safety and security?

We are about to begin Advent, the season of spiritual preparation leading to Christmas. Pretty much every Christian in this country will have some sort of representation of the story of the birth of Jesus in their home and in their church and maybe even outside their church. The “manger” scene will, typically, involve a strange, but familiar, mash-up of the birth stories offered in the Gospels of Luke and Matthew (Mark and John don’t include birth narratives and those in Luke and Matthew don’t actually line up all that well— but that’s another issue). In the middle of those scenes, there will be a very small human, clearly an infant: Jesus. God incarnate. Presumably, God could have taken on human flesh in a whole bunch of different ways. But God chose the path of pregnancy, birth, infancy, and childhood. God chose to take on human flesh in the small and vulnerable.

There is no strength here. Instead, there is dependence. One might even say “weakness.”

So how in the world can it be that so many Christians, mostly of an evangelical inclination, are so smitten with a very different kind of strength? How can it be that so many evangelical Christians seem to relish in the guns blazing approach of Trump, contorting that sort of strength to line up with the very different image of strength that Christmas so blatantly and obviously provides?

If we consider other crucial components of Jesus‘s life, and certainly the end of Jesus‘s earthly life, it is crystal clear that Jesus did not subscribe to the notion that armies, tanks, guns and high-powered weaponry are the way to show strength. In fact, Jesus did just the opposite by submitting to the violence of the age, trying to demonstrate through his life, and death, that the worldly desire for strength leads only to destruction, chaos and fear.

This final Christmas before the next presidential election, the situation we are in feels very precarious and shakier still when there’s such a wide gap between perceptions and reality, or basic theology. For my mother, I suspect her desire for strength has a lot to do with wanting to feel secure, that a certain kind of rhetoric, and demonstration of forcefulness, could offer the equivalent of a security blanket, something that feels like it will protect when life gets scary.

The problem is that Jesus never had anything to do with that kind of strength, except to teach— time and time again— that it was not part of his ministry, or what he expected from his followers. Yet, many seem completely convinced that Jesus and a Trump-style strength are easily connected. This year, they ought to take a closer look at that beloved manger scene and consider anew what that tiny infant is trying to say.

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What’s the Word?

Posted on November 11, 2023 by smaxreisert

The members of Old South Church in Hallowell, Maine will gather after worship tomorrow, Sunday, November 12, 2023, to vote on a plan put forward by the governing body of the church to put the sanctuary building up for sale. We’ve known this day would come— eventually. Our congregation is shrinking and our buildings are becoming harder and harder to maintain. Nestled into a hill with only a couple of parking spots immediately adjacent, the sanctuary building has also become harder for our older (and younger) folks to access.

One of the things that I’m finding especially interesting is to listen in for the words that are uttered as people talk about the decision ahead. Some of the words are not surprising: sad, anxious, worried, it’s time, heartbroken. Other words are surprising, like “angry.” One woman started talking about how sad she was about the vote. She hasn’t been attending Old South for very long and loves the sanctuary. And, now we are voting on a decision to try to sell it. “I’m just so . . . ., “she said lingering on what to say after “so.” The first word she said was “sad,” but then she said that wasn’t the right word. Finally, the word popped out: “angry.”

People at Old South don’t use the word “angry” a lot. I found it interesting to hear this woman not only utter the word, but struggle to find a comparable word before finally uttering the word that clearly was on her mind. She just wasn’t sure what sort of reception it would get.

She’s actually not the first to say the word “angry” in recent months. Others are angry too. What prompts the anger is connected to the realization that we find ourselves in a situation we never imagined. When most, if not all, of us first became actively connected to a church, we assumed that the church would continue, mostly as is. Sure, there would be change, but nothing so dramatic as selling a building or, as other congregations have been forced to face, closure. For those of us who like to attend church, who count on our community of faith to get through life, it’s very difficult to find ourselves with the sort of decision point that looms before us. How did this happen?

In the book The Great Dechurching, Jim Davis and Michael Graham seek to unravel the various issues that have led to the “largest and fastest shift [in the religious landscape] in US history.” From their more evangelical position, the trends are especially alarming. From a traditional mainline church, we’ve been in the midst of the shift for a very long time. There’s a lot going on in the great shift, but at Old South, part of our response is anger— anger directed at those expressions of the Church that have torn at the fabric of Christian legitimacy. Those who are angry are especially angry at those who have perpetrated or have participated in—directly or indirectly— the myriad moral and ethical scandals that have rocked the Roman Catholic Church, the Southern Baptists and many evangelical churches. While no denomination is free from error and sin, the United Church of Christ has not experienced anything like the terrible scandals of clergy abuse of children and women. Yet, we feel the punishment, as people flee Christian communities. We feel the judgment. While we certainly feel sympathy toward those who have left the Church because of serious moral lapses and hypocrisy, some of us our angry at those who have so wantonly harmed the Church and her denominations.

So, along with the sense of heartbreak, sadness and anxiety, there’s anger. And, it’s not just about the scandals. There are other issues too, like the decline in attendance that began in the 1970s, especially in mainline churches. The anger is not simply about what we ourselves are losing, but what wider communities are losing as churches shrink to the point of vanishing. It doesn’t take much looking to see the brokenness of our society, the frayed edges of our threadbare social fabric. The Church, and her denominations, is not the perfect antidote. But, churches have been significant resources of hope and healing. They are places that are usually good at reaching out to the lost and least, the isolated and the lonely. They are places, usually, that help people appreciate that each person is valued and treasured.

That we are being stifled and harmed from the inside and the outside, it’s no wonder that we are struggling to find just the right words to describe our experience. Heartbreak and anger. Sadness and frustration. But, it’s important that in this time we consider not only our words, but the Word, the One who offers hope and love even when things look so bleak, even unto death.

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Way Too Many Names

Posted on October 28, 2023 by smaxreisert

I’m not sure when I started this practice, but whenever there’s a mass shooting, I look for the names of the victims and I read through them. If there’s information on each individual’s life, I read that too. When I started this little practice, I had no idea how often it would become a part of my life or that I would read so many names and learn about so many people who were usually engaging in some completely normal aspect of life when a terrible violence was visited upon them.

This morning, I read through the names of those who were shot and killed in this week’s mass shooting in Maine. Eighteen people. Eighteen. Shot and killed by a man with clear mental health struggles who somehow still had access to weapons that could produce such massive slaughter in such a short period of time. Eighteen people shot and killed just a forty-five minute drive from Old South. Plus, at least thirteen others injured. While Maine has experienced other mass shootings, this week’s incident was, by far, the largest and the first not to be a domestic violence situation (horrible in their own way, but different from the random nature of the violence that took place this week).

It’s not that I thought such a horrific event would never take place in Maine, although Maine was recently declared the safest state in the country. But, I had hoped that maybe we would somehow escape what seems to have become a component of American life. Maine is a decidedly gun-friendly state. I remember when we first moved here and a neighbor tried to help me appreciate the significance of hunting. Eventually, I came to sort of understand, although I always bristle in November when I must don myself in blaze orange whenever I leave the house. I’ve also bristled when I’ve encountered people with “open carry” permits who, in fact, openly carry their guns on their person. I usually simply move away from them as quickly as possible. For the most part, though, I feel very safe in Maine. There’s a sense of safety and security in the small population of people. We may not all know each other, but there’s likely only one or two degrees of separation between any two random people in this state.

When the news came of the shooting in Lewiston, it was alarming and shocking. It also brought a sense of numbness, especially around the feeling that, once again, a lot of words would be spoken, but nothing meaningful will happen to prevent such clearly preventable tragedies.

Out of respect for those who perished— Billy Brackett, Maxx Hathaway, Bill Young, Aaron Young, Stephen Vozella, Arthur Strout, Joshua Seal, Ronald Morin, Michael Deslauriers, Joe Walker, Lucy Violette, Bob Violette, Peyton Brewer-Ross, Tricia Asselin, Bryan MacFarlane, Thomas Conrad, Jason Walker and Keith Macneir— as well as those who were injured, and for all of their friends and loved ones, I offer this prayer from our Thursday prayer service at Old South:

We gather with weary spirits.  As if there’s not already too much in the world that weighs on our hearts and minds, a mass shooting has taken place in our own backyard.  Gather us in, holy God, and offer us the balm of love and hope that only You can offer.  Help us to lean upon you in this time of great need, in this time of terrible tragedy. We lift up in prayer: the families and friends of those who were killed; those who were injured; for family and friends awaiting news; for law enforcement and first responders, for doctors and nurses and medical staff; for the perpetrator of this monstrous act and for his family; for those who feel the pull to commit such an atrocity upon their neighbors; for community leaders, mental health professionals, those who have reached out to help, to listen, to offer a caring hand or ear; for young people who are frightened about the dangerous and violent world in which they are growing up; for lawmakers and policy makers who lift up their thoughts and prayers, but do nothing else, who fail to do anything meaningful to stem the violence and the access to weapons with the power to kill so many so quickly; for each and every one who desires a better way, who works diligently for more sustainably peaceful communities. Be with us, Holy God, and strengthen us. Walk with us on the journey, that we may be be about your holy work, to bring healing and hope. God in your infinite mercy, hear our prayer. Amen.

And, help us, O God, to be mindful of the long, long list of the names of your beloved children, that we find the will and the way to keep that list from growing and growing and growing and growing. There are way too many names already.

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Big Questions

Posted on October 17, 2023 by smaxreisert

At last week’s Bible study session, the main topic of conversation revolved around the current worship series (looking for new wisdom in the old stories of the Hebrew Scriptures) and the previous Sunday’s scripture and sermon on the Ten Commandments. It didn’t take long for the small group to engage in lively conversation. To what extent are the Ten Commandments relevant to us today? Do we think about them? Do we use them as a guide for how we live our lives? Is the sternness of “commandment” helpful or not, as we consider the significance of the demands that are contained in the famous list? And in what ways do we find connection between the Ten Commandments and the summary of the “the Law” set out by Jesus in the “Golden Rule,” to love God and to love one’s neighbor as oneself?

Our conversation hummed along, as we reflected on the fact that, while murder seems an easy commandment to follow, other commandments are more complicated, like coveting and bearing false witness (lying). What about the white lies we tell, like the ones we must tell to a loved one with dementia? What does it mean to break a commandment in that way? And, what about “honoring father and mother”? What does honoring look like when one was raised in a dysfunctional environment?

We moved on to consider what it means to “love,” as in love God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength and love your neighbor as yourself. I’ve always found Frederick Buechner’s insight very helpful to this point. While we are called to “love our neighbor,” being attentive to the well-being of others, we are not called to “like” our neighbors. The difference is significant.

Finally, one of the group piped up, “What about evil and those who commit evil acts? How do we honor the commandments in the face of, in the midst of, evil? How do we deal with people who essentially break all of the commandments? What sort of responsibility does a person of faith have in the face of evil? The conversation turned to the horrific events that had recently taken place in Israel, and then to Hitler, along with his very willing companions. I also thought of the subject matter of the soon-to-be-released film, Killers of the Flower Moon. I read the book, written by David Grann, last year. It’s a deeply unsettling book not only about evil, but the complex web that develops around evil acts, pulling even the unwitting and unwilling into its sticky strands.

What is required of the faithful? We might prefer to think that we aspire to walk in the ways of the words of the prophet Micah, acting justly, loving kindness and walking humbly with God (Micah 6:8), but the reality of our lives is complicated and there are certainly times when we participate in evil without even knowing it. And, then there is the enormity of evil. How do we find value in our small acts of resistance to evil and in our seemingly inconsequential commitment to looking out for the well-being of our neighbors, both near and far.

It may not be much, but I found myself moved by the conversation that took place during that Bible study gathering. Though we were a small group, there was both the willingness and the desire to engage with big questions, important questions. Those gathered there articulated an important vulnerability, that our lives of faith are always a work in progress and, if we can agree on one thing that is required of us, that we are called to take our faith seriously and to appreciate that God calls us to do things that are hard and sometimes even dangerous. Walking humbly with God is just the beginning.

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Moments of Grace in a Sea of Trouble

Posted on September 30, 2023 by smaxreisert

It’s a hard time to be in the church business. It’s difficult to be a parishioner watching one’s congregation getting smaller and smaller and trying to get one’s head around the overwhelmingly difficult decisions that are looming. It’s difficult to be a pastor, offering pastoral care to those parishioners while also trying to provide leadership, meaningful worship and a bit of cheerleading too. In the midst of the great shifts in the religious landscape in the United States, there are countless local churches struggling to figure out what’s next in the midst of a reality they never imagined (and, for some, a reality that they stridently deny).

As the pastor of a small congregation that’s struggling to figure out how to move forward in these challenging times, there’s a lot on one’s “worry” plate. There’s a lot to do to provide guidance, with a fair number of strange and unexpected bumps along the way. There are the frustrations that come from very understandable places, but they are still frustrations. There’s the grief that is sometimes expressed in straightforward ways, but mostly in not so straightforward ways, adding to the long list of frustrations. And, there’s my own experience and my own feelings of being a pastor in a shrinking church, learning how to be a pastor in a way that wasn’t part of the curriculum when I was at divinity school in the early 1990s. I may very well be the last in a long line of pastors who have served Old South. It’s not just the parishioners who are feeling overwhelmed.

So it is, that moments of grace stand out in starker relief. While these moments may not even out the frustrations, they seem to be making sure that it’s not all about the frustrations and grief. Recently, I’ve noticed several moments of grace that have reminded me of the significance of what we do as we gather as church.

One the most significant moments of grace happened not long after I announced one of my big plans/hopes for the fall: I wanted to record individual members of Old South sharing a little something about what they find special about the church community. I wasn’t looking for long lists or summaries, but short one-to-two minute snippets that I could upload to our webpage. On the Sunday when I announced this grand plan, I saw a lot of not so excited faces. Great, I thought, this big plan might end up never getting off the ground. I felt all of my excitement drain away. After the worship service, a woman who’s a member and attends regularly, approached me and declared that she wanted to go first in sharing what’s special about Old South. She certainly wasn’t the last woman I would have guessed would volunteer, but she wasn’t anywhere near the top of the list. But, there she was, not only delighted at the prospect of sharing something about what she finds special, but excited about taking the first slot. Clearly, a moment of unexpected and wondrous grace.

Another moment took place this week at our weekly Bible study meeting. The group has been on hiatus since June and this week, we held our first meeting of the fall. Three new people attended (doubling the number of people who usually attend) and the discussion was lively, interesting and engaged. And, full of an almost palpable feeling of grace. Old South may be small and shrinking, but there is, at times, a noticeable presence of faith that is strong and resilient.

What moment of grace will make itself known next? I might like to be able to put together a wish list, but I know it doesn’t work that way. Instead, I will endeavor to be on the lookout for those surprising moments that offer not only a glimpse into the blessing of grace, but a welcome refuge in the midst of a difficult time.

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The Many Problems of “Why I Left the Church”

Posted on September 15, 2023 by smaxreisert

There’s an episode of Modern Family that involves a scene in a church, although the location really doesn’t matter. Claire, mother of three teens, is listening to her two daughters complain about various issues while they are sitting in a pew. She responds to what they are saying, “You girls are so dramatic. Do I need to call you a wambulance?” Claire’s sassy young niece, Lily, sitting in the next pew pipes up sounding like a ambulance siren with a mocking tone, “Wah wah wah wah.”

I thought of this scene when I read Alexander Lang’s essay “Why I Left the Church.” In the essay, Rev. Lang, now former pastor of a large Presbyterian church in Illinois, shared the details of his decision to not only leave that particular church, but parish ministry in general. The essay outlines a series of problems that had become too much for him, while linking most of those issues to a national trend of the “great resignation” of clergy. [The essay may be found here.]

I should start by saying that there were elements of the essay that I found compelling. I lead a much, much, much smaller congregation, with the accompanying much less stressful role in pastoral ministry, but I could empathize with a few of the issues that he raised. Ministry in a local church can be immensely challenging, from competing and unrealistic expectations to a way too long and complex job description to the low rate of compensation for a whole lot of work and a whole lot of educational preparation. While he doesn’t make this clear line of comparison, many clergy (those who have an Master of Divinity degree) complete the same amount of education as attorneys— and attorneys can expect a much higher average rate of compensation, with a more focused area of expertise.

While there were a few compelling moments, I mostly found the essay infuriating. Being a clergyperson is hard! There’s too much to do! Only half of the church’s members attend worship regularly! I thought people would welcome the changes I suggested! But they didn’t! People who attend church don’t want to be challenged! They have a “fixed mindset” while I have a much better “growth mindset”! How can they not appreciate this?!?

Really, Rev. Lang? I’m assuming that you were a member of a church before you sought ordained ministry. Did you never serve on a church committee or board?

In one section of the essay, Rev. Lang lists all of the skills that many local church pastors are expected to master— CEO, professional speaker, fundraiser, counselor, etc. And then he goes on to bemoan the low rate of compensation that accompanies these expectations/demands. He sums up the paragraph in this way: “And yet, pastors are expected to do all of these things and do them well for $55,000 a year.” As if that’s what his compensation has been! Are you not aware, Rev. Lang, that your church’s annual report, with the church budget outlining exactly how much you were compensated as recently as 2022, can easily be found on the internet? Are you trying to garner extra sympathy for a problem you didn’t actually have?

Another major complaint concerns Rev. Lang’s writing style. He switches from first person to second person with alarming frequency. Here’s an example: “You are also there for the sicknesses, tragedies and deaths. I don’t think anyone becomes a pastor not knowing this is what you are signing up for. However, the reality of what this does to you mentally and emotionally is taxing over the long haul.” It felt like Rev. Lang was not willing to commit fully to what he was writing, diminishing its impact. He also implied that he was speaking for a much broader and larger group of people, as if he’s the first clergyperson to be brave enough to tell church people what they really need to know. Is he expecting a great big thank you from all of those poor (literally and figuratively) clergy who just aren’t as courageous as he is?

Rev. Lang also fails to acknowledge an issue of considerable gravity: he has a dangerous case of white male privilege syndrome. He has come to assume that the world, and its various parts, will work for him, at least for the most part. He is educated and in possession of a professional degree. As a pastor, he worked at his craft and endeavored to strengthen his skills, to become yet more proficient. He assumed that those things would usher in a high level of respect and admiration. It sounds like he expected deference from his congregation, as many well-educated white men expect, in ministry as well as in just about every other field. Alas.

Finally, in his long “poor me/poor you” revelry, Rev. Lang misses an opportunity to consider his experience in the midst of the difficult reality that is the current state of the Church. The Church as we have known it is collapsing. The current notable trend is not just about the “great resignation.” It’s also about the great “dechurching” (see The Great DeChurching: Who’s Leaving, Why They Are Going, and What Will Bring Them Back? by Jim Davis and Michael Graham). Under the weight of the changes in our culture and society, the Church is in the midst of losing its place as part of American life. This has been going on for decades. The Church is in decline not only because of what’s going on in the rest of society, but also because of what has gone on within the Church, and its various expressions. Clergy abuse across so many denominations has eroded respect for the Church, its denominations and local churches. Church corruption, fraud, and other serious ethical lapses have left the Church maimed and enfeebled. And, then there’s the extremely unfortunate tie between evangelical Christians and a certain former President that makes all Christians look like hypocrites. Pastors, even those of us who live morally upright lives (to the best of our ability), are guilty by association.

Rev. Lang may be an intelligent, decent and compassionate person. But, without taking a good look at context, he takes an unfortunate turn in his assessment. This isn’t a simple story of a burned out clergyperson and a demanding congregation. Sure, it would be nice if those who remain connected to Christian churches would take more seriously, and purposefully, the leadership of the clergy— especially those of us who are well-educated and thoughtful! It would be good if those who attend worship on a regular basis were more open to the transformational work and Word of Christ. But, instead of pointing out all of their faults, we pastors ought to be doing more to help those in the Church recognize the profound changes in, and around, the Church, while showing them that they are appreciated and valued, by each other, by their pastor, and by the God they show up to worship.

In his closing, Rev. Lang made a point of including the count of how many people showed up for his last Sunday, in person and online. All were treated to one of the “best sermons” he’s ever preached. I really didn’t need another reminder of how much this man doesn’t seem to understand what’s actually going on or what’s important about Christian ministry in these challenging days. There’s no shame in discovering that there’s an end to one way of serving as pastor. But, there is shame in twisting one’s reasons into something that places blame solely on the flock, when it’s the shepherd who’s lost his way— probably a long time ago.

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That Darn Toy (and Her Movie) Has Got Me Thinking

Posted on August 31, 2023 by smaxreisert

God created humanity in God’s own image,
        in the divine image God created them,
            male and female God created them.

Genesis 1:27 (Common English Bible)

I wasn’t planning to see the Barbie movie. I’ve never in my life been a fan of Barbie and I’ve never felt pulled into her orbit. I didn’t play with Barbies as a child, except for maybe a few occasions when friends insisted that I play with their Barbies. I don’t remember having one of my own, or even asking for one. Barbie always seemed so strange, so thin, so plastic, so stiff, and those feet that always required shoes to look right. I couldn’t ever envision myself looking like her in any way, especially when it came to those strange, super-unnatural, feet.

During a recent visit with my children in Philadelphia, we found ourselves trying to figure out how to entertain ourselves on a cloudy and muggy Tuesday afternoon when most of the city’s museums were closed. My daughter had seen Barbie already, as part of a “Barbenheimer” extravaganza with her friends. But, she was eager to see it again, especially with her mother, it turned out. My son was less enthusiastic, but willing to go along. So, off we went to one of the city cinemas that was showing the movie.

Except for the end of the movie, which I thought was a complete train wreck, I enjoyed the movie a great deal. I laughed so hard, I thought I might damage myself.

For good and for not so good, the movie has wormed its way into my head and has got me thinking. One of the more interesting aspects of the film for me is a moment not far from the end in which it becomes obvious that Barbie doesn’t really know what to do with Ken. After a failed attempt at creating a patriarchy in Barbie Land, both Barbie and Ken find themselves in unknown territory, with Barbie not clear on whether or not she wants any relationship Ken, leaving Ken bereft of his identity, since there is no “just Ken”; there’s only Barbie and Ken. Amid the reestablishment of female empowerment, Ken, along with all of the other Kens, returns to accessory status, or maybe not even that. Barbie’s confusion felt like a reflection of a larger issue of the continuing struggles in the relationship between women and men in our society, a confusion that is further revealed in the muddled and perplexing ending.

The movie creates a starkly contrasted “Barbie Land” and the “Real World.” In Barbie Land, the Barbies— except for a very short-lived time of patriarchy— run the show. They are in charge of the government, the law, the professions, etc. The Kens are there to do things like “beach” and provide lifts during choreographed dance scenes. At one point, Barbie admits that she doesn’t even know where the Kens live. In the “Real World,” women are not empowered. They are the ones stuck in support roles and expected to exist and perform in contradictory ways. The Mattel empire, of which Barbie is a sizable part, is run completely by men and it is clearly important to those men to maintain a hard line of distinction between the two worlds, with women’s empowerment relegated to the fantasy lives of females. As an aside, I must admit that, although the men are “in charge” in the Real World, their lot doesn’t appear at all appealing. Those at the top of the Mattel ladder are portrayed as completely one-dimensional. They are all dressed in the same dark suit and are only concerned with whatever it takes to make more money for the company (I wonder how Ms. Gerwig got away with such a portrayal, given that Warner Bros and Mattel collaborated on the project).

Among the many things the movie has me thinking about (there are also the really interesting topics of death, apathy and anxiety— but those will have to wait), is this notion that women and men cannot hold equal status, cannot work together in a way that allows each to flourish, supporting and encouraging each other, with the goal of respecting the dignity of each person and each person’s gifts and talents, regardless of gender. It’s as if only one gender can be “empowered” at a time. I realize this is just a movie about a doll, and the world created by a company to sell that doll and everything that comes with it, but there’s something here that reflects an uncomfortable reality of the tension in the relationship between women and men.

As Barbie (the movie) struggles to resolve itself to an ending, it exposes a decidedly not funny dynamic that we human beings are somehow not able to live together in equality. I realize that Christianity is a significant part of the problem, with few denominations and churches emphasizing the Genesis 1 creation story in which women and men are created at the same time. For way too many Christians, the only Creation story that counts is the one in Genesis 2 and 3 in which the female is created second, as a “helper.” Despite the fact that there are all kinds of problems with usage and translation, the second story is the one that offers, I guess, the neat and tidy display of men in the dominant role and women in the accessory role.

Nearing the age of sixty, I grew up in throes of the second wave of feminism in the 1960s and 70s. My mother was certainly not a feminist, nor were any of the women I encountered as a young child, except for one very important one. The church my family attended had on its staff a female minister of Christian Education who was an ordained clergyperson. I don’t remember her and I suspect she was never invited to preach a sermon at that church, but she’s the one who signed my third grade Bible that I received in September of 1972. I still have that Bible and whenever I look at it, I’m reminded of a hopefulness that I had as a child that I, too, could grow up to be an ordained pastor, or wherever else my gifts and talents could take me, that my status as a girl would not limit me in any way. It should not be that girls are invited to dream big, only to find that there are a whole lot of obstacles in their way. And, it should not be that men should feel there is a good reason to put up barriers, to protect their “place” at the expense of female empowerment. With such strict gender roles and expectations, we are all lessened.

As Barbie demonstrates plenty of its own confusion, it also offers a few rays of hope. As Ken bemoans the possibility that he will be left to “live and die a life of blonde fragility” as “just Ken,” he then becomes aware that’s he’s enough, “and great at doing stuff.” It’s not a great motto, or anthem, but it’s not bad— for Kens and Barbies, and all the rest of us too.

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Christianity, Not Churchianity!

Posted on August 22, 2023 by smaxreisert

My son recently arrived home after an almost five-month, 2200-mile journey hiking the Appalachian Trail.  No surprise, he had many tales to tell.  One story involved a man he met somewhere in the middle of the hike.  This man declared that he had shaken free of the capitalist system and had taken to the freedom of the woods and mountains.  Sure, he may have sported an array of expensive, high-end equipment, but he felt that he had freed himself from the shackles of the ordinary system of life in the United States.  He also claimed to have shaken himself free of the system of religion, although he had not rejected religion altogether.  My son remembers him stating that he belonged to “Christianity, not churchianity.”

This little nugget of story has lodged itself in my brain and I’ve been reflecting on it over this past week.  There is an important truth in the difference between the Church and Christ.  While churches may claim allegiance to Christ, that Christ is the “Head” of the local church (as in the case of Congregational and United Church of Christ churches), and that the church seeks to love and follow Jesus, no church can assert a thorough and complete knowledge of Jesus Christ and Jesus Christ’s intentions or expectations.  Each church and denomination is but a small window into an understanding of God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit.

It’s too bad that most, if not all, churches and denominations fail miserably when it comes to recognizing how little we human beings can reasonably understand about the God we claim to be so wondrous and amazing.

I’m reminded of some of the especially illuminating observations of Frederick Buechner, one of my favorite Christian writers who died just over a year ago.  In his book Telling Secrets, Rev. Buechner offers this summary of the difference between churches and self-help groups:

I do not believe that such groups as these which I found my way to not long after returning from Wheaton College, or Alcoholics Anonymous, which is the group they all grew out of, are perfect any more than anything human is perfect, but I believe that the Church has an enormous amount to learn from them. I also believe that what goes on in them is far closer to what Christ meant his Church to be, and what it originally was, than much of what goes on in most churches I know. These groups have no buildings or official leadership or money. They have no rummage sales, no altar guilds, no every-member canvases. They have no preachers, no choirs, no liturgy, no real estate. They have no creeds. They have no program. They make you wonder if the best thing that could happen to many a church might not be to have its building burn down and to lose all its money. Then all that the people would have left would be God and each other. 

Telling Secrets by Frederick Buechner (1991)

In another book, Wishful Thinking, Rev. Buechner makes this bold claim: “Jesus said, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but by me’ (John 14:6). He didn’t say that any particular ethic, doctrine, or religion was the way, the truth, and the life. He said that he was. He didn’t say that it was by believing or doing anything in particular that you could ‘come to the Father.’ He said that it was only by him by living, participating in, being caught up by the way of life that he embodied, that was his way.” [Wishful Thinking, 1971]

Churches have much to learn when it comes to claims regarding their relationship with Christ.  When churches imply, or even state, that they possess the one and only truth about the Divine, they are really attaching themselves to and marketing idolatry. I don’t think I need to say that this is very dangerous.

There’s also an important bit of wisdom in the perception that the church is not a building. I take some issue with the need for choirs, liturgy and even preachers(!), since I believe that groups of the faithful need some structure (by “structure,” I’m not talking walls and a roof) and a mode and method of worship. But, churches are not buildings. Where the faithful gather is a place that is nothing more than a convenient space in which we gather for worship. We could be anywhere and in any space, but we choose to have a building that makes everything a little easier— except when we start to think that the building, especially any one particular building, is so necessary for the worship of God that without it, there is no church.

At Old South, we have much work to do to disentangle ourselves from our sanctuary building. It is a lovely building, no question, but it has become a serious problem. We are too small of a congregation to meet the needs of such a large, aging, demanding building with new leaks regularly making themselves known and plaster falling from the high ceilings and from around the large stained glass windows. But, probably our most serious work will be in disentangling ourselves from the notion that the building IS the church, that somehow it is that one building that allows us to worship God. We need to reacquaint ourselves with what the faith actually is and what it means. It’s not about walls and architecture. It’s about people and the lives that we live.

We must resist the temptation (for a temptation it surely is) to get so caught up in the granite and mortar (Old South’s sanctuary building is constructed of granite) that we lose sight of getting caught up in endeavoring to embody Christ in who we are and what we do.

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Wondering About Life-Altering Experiences in a Secular World

Posted on July 31, 2023 by smaxreisert

Last week, I had to deliver my daughter to the bus station in Portland, Maine early in the morning. After helping her carry her stuff into the line to board the bus, I got back into my vehicle and took a moment to think about the immediate future. Since I live over an hour from Portland, any visit to the biggest city in Maine usually involves running a few errands— like visits to Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s (there’s only one of each in all of Maine). But, those stores open at 8:00am, which I would normally think of as plenty early, but last Thursday, as I sat in my truck in the bus station parking lot, 8:00am had not yet arrived. I considered my options.

After a quick online investigation of possible coffee spots, etc, I found myself tempted by the promise of a “life-altering experience.” This promise involved a place called “The Holy Donut” and a particular kind of maple donut that was required if I ever wanted to declare myself as having lived a full life. With the age of sixty not so far into the future, I figured I better take advantage of the lull before groceries and check out that donut. I mean, the cafe has “holy” in the title. How could I possibly not want to have a life-changing experience on an altogether normal Thursday in the middle of summer?

I purchased the supposedly remarkable donut, along with a decidedly unremarkable cup of coffee, and set myself up at the small counter by the window. I took the precious donut from its bag and broke it apart into a few pieces, all the while preparing my soul for a miraculous experience.

It was certainly a fine donut. And, I was all the more impressed knowing that the donut was made from fine Maine potatoes. As an aside, I must say that I continue to marvel at the amazing things that the humble potato—especially the humble Maine potato— can accomplish. But, I can honestly say that I did not have anything even close to a life-altering experience. And, I don’t think that the donut, as delicious as it was, fulfilled my quest to live a full life.

It was a good donut and I’m glad that I tried it, although I’m not sure it was worth the calories that I’m still endeavoring to work off.

As I sat at that counter, looking out at a cloudy morning on Portland’s waterfront, enjoying the maple donut made out of potato, I wondered about life-altering experiences. What happens to how we understand such experiences when so many people are cutting ties to an entire arena that is significantly connected to transformational experiences? I realize that religious practice is just one of many ways to have one’s life and one’s perspective altered, but it is, and has been, a meaningful avenue for many to feel something that can be deemed truly life-changing. As the opportunities that religious communities offer become less and less available, will the concept of the transformational experience be diminished? Will the maple potato donut have to be enough?

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Hey! Different Kind of Church Here! Part 2

Posted on July 18, 2023 by smaxreisert

I don’t keep my profession a secret, but there are times when I wish I could. One recent example involves a little monthly pampering that I give to myself: I get a pedicure about once a month. I’ve seen the same pedicurist for several years. I’ll call her Tammy. I’m sure I told Tammy long ago that I was a Protestant minister, but somehow Tammy never absorbed that piece of information— until a couple of months ago. This has turned into an unfortunate situation, involving problematic assumptions that people sometimes make when they hear the word “Christian.”

Last month, as one foot was soaking and the other was beginning to get the treatment it so desperately needed, Tammy started talking about Maine’s “terrible governor,” who was poised to sign into law expanded access to abortion, including late-term. Tammy was beside herself. “I keep thinking about my precious grandbabies,” she declared. And, then she went on to talk about how horrifying it was to think about other grandbabies being aborted just a day before they were to be born, that women could decide at the last minute that they had changed their mind about giving birth and could abort at any point throughout the pregnancy. “I just can’t stop thinking about my precious grandbabies,” she commented several times, emphasis on “precious.” It was clear enough that she believed that she was in the company of a kindred spirit, one who would join her in her outrage.

My conversations with Tammy, during my regular visits, rarely venture into political issues, but on that day in June, she went on at length, clearly assuming that I shared her discomfort and anger. As Tammy went on (she had a lot to say before I could get a word in, to dispel her assumptions), she told me about all the things that she had learned about the “terrible” governor’s policies from her friends at the church she attends. Tammy, it turns out, does not watch or read the news herself. She completely relies on information that is passed to her in places like church, and she spends little energy in asking any questions about that information.

When I could finally get a word in edgewise, I told her that I had a very different approach to the issue at hand, that I believed abortion was a matter of choice for women. It took at bit for Tammy to understand what I was trying to say to her. She knew that I was a Christian clergyperson and the expectations she held about what that meant ran deep and strong.

She finally asked me how I could hold such a view that “precious” children, like her precious grandbabies, could be terminated just before birth? I paused and waited for her to look at me and then I asked, “Do you know any woman who would make such a decision on a whim and not in the event of something catastrophic? Do you know any woman who would do that?” And, then I went on to inform her that, although Maine’s governor was indeed poised to grant greater access to abortion, that abortions beyond the viability stage are exceedingly, extraordinarily rare.

It took a moment or two for Tammy to think about this. She had a lot going on in her head, as she absorbed this unsettling notion that someone who shared her faith did not share her views on an issue that was likely one of the foundational pieces of how she understood the faith and its essential beliefs. Finally, she admitted that she could not think of any woman who would do that, but still, it seemed to her that access to abortion ought to be more severely limited and not expanded. How could any good Christian think otherwise?

As we continued our conversation, I suggested to her that women ought to be trusted to make good and moral choices, and that churches ought to spend more time reflecting on the negative views they have about women as well as the control they wish to place on women’s lives and bodies. As the expression on her face got more and more perplexed, I told her that I was frustrated by the scare tactics many Christian churches employ to frame dangerously disrespectful notions of the personhood of women and to draw terrible portraits of the murder of “precious infants,” as if there’s an entire class of homicidal women getting pregnant precisely to murder babies just before birth.

Tammy had a hard time with our conversation. And, I’ll admit that I did too. I don’t like the assumptions that are made when one identifies as Christian. I don’t like that many Christians are led to believe that “good Christians” agree on certain topics. My conversation with Tammy was not the first time I’ve found myself in a conversation in which clear (but false) assumptions were made about where I stand on sensitive matters like abortion— not only because of I define myself as a Christian, but I’m also a member of the clergy.

I wonder sometimes about how many people have stopped going to church because of the dominance of anti-choice sentiments among many Christian churches and denominations. How hard do I need to wave my different approach on such matters, as well as the different approach of the entire denomination of which I am part? And will it make any difference?

Posted in My Life as Pastor, Other Denominations/Christians, United Church of Christ | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment