Musings on Memorial Day

So I was doing some research this week on the origins of Memorial Day using the infallible source of all knowledge, Wikipedia.  From there I gleaned two fascinating bits of knowledge that I wanted to spend a little time musing over.

1) According to my source, you are supposed to start the day by raising your flag and then lowering it to half staff as a salute to the dead.  At noon however you then raise it again as a sign that we are lifting up their memory and are rising up to not let their fight be in vain but instead are carrying it on ourselves.

2) Memorial Day was originally a day to remember those who has died in the Civil War and was later expanded to include those who had fallen in other wars.

The second point works well for me because it is easier to gloss over all the other reasons that people go to war and remember the Civil War as this "fight to set other men free."  Obviously that is a very pro-North viewpoint and simplifies the war only to an issue of freeing the slaves.  But freeing those in slavery is a cause most people can get behind, so it is a great place to start.

So if Memorial Day really is about honoring those who have died in the cause of freedom and justice for all, what does it mean for those of us doing the honoring?  How are we picking up the cause and advancing it forward?  Slavery was abolished in the United States legally years ago, but it still exists in other countries, as well as perhaps in covert ways here (and even the NFL and college football according to some).  Sex-trafficking is a prime example of this but certainly not the only one.  Where is our outrage about this?  What are we doing to shame those who engage in it, to bring them to justice, to fight to set these people free.  Are there other forms of slavery (economic, political, social) we should be fighting against?  What other threats to freedom and justice exist.  I am not advocating yet another war for our soldier to be involved in, but maybe something that each of us can work to end.

Memorial Day does not have to simply be a salute to those who died in bloody wars and by extension glorify those sorts of conflicts.  Instead it can be a lament of those who have died that others can be free, and a dedication that we will work as hard as possible to make sure that more do not have to die in this struggle.  What are we memorializing this weekend?  Is it war?  Is it freedom?  Is it a fight against evil?  I am sure our answers are all different, but I love the reminder we have in the raising of the flag.  We remember those who have gone before us and are called to make sure that in our lives we make their deaths not be in vain

What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas

Last night I attended a bachelor party for a friend of mine.  While the group of us were hanging out there was talks of taking embarrassing pictures of the bachelor throughout the night and posting them to Facebook.  To my knowledge this was never done (though I did leave early since I had a 2 hour drive to get home).  Still the thought of sharing what goes on at a bachelor party seems almost antithetical to the event.  Bachelor parties are one of those "sacred" events that seems to have an aura of secrecy around them.  What happens at the party stays at the party.  Just like what happens in Vegas, or on the mission trip, or whatever, stays with that group of people

On the other end of the spectrum is the "over-sharing" that occurs through things like Facebook.  Suddenly the whole world can know what we had for breakfast, how much we drank last night, or that we are off in the Bahamas.  Some of the information is mundane and some can be potentially damaging, giving people a view into a part of your life you might want to keep private (like your drinking habits) or letting people know when you are not around ... which is valuable information for burglars.

All of this raises the question to me ... do we keep too much secret or not enough.  Secrets are great, they give us a feeling of power, control, and of being in the know.  We have something that others do not.  The flip side of that same idea is that it creates separations between in the in group and the out group.  Between the haves and the have-nots.  All of this leads me to wonder what the best course to follow is.  I worry what it says that there are parts of our lives we hide from other parts of our lives. 

As a pastor I am constantly confronted with the merging of the public and the private, those things that I share with my parishioners and those things that I keep separate.  While perhaps harder than other jobs it is not necessarily any different.  An NBA team executive recently came out about his sexuality, something he had kept private from his work life for years.  We all probably have those things we worry about the people who write our paychecks knowing about.  In the end however I worry the secrets are bad.  That we encourage a notion that somethings are just for a select group of people and in doing so we create barriers between ourselves and the world.  The barriers may keep us safe, but they also keep people away.  If I don't share things about my life with my parishioners, is it fair to expect them to do the same?

Maybe the real question to ponder is whether or not we have reasonable expectations for secrets.  Do our expectations meet the categorical imperative ... that we would want others to live by the same things as us.  So do we want to know about others the things we keep secret about ourselves OR are we comfortable with others keeping from us the same information we keep from them?  That might be a question for another day

I Like Winning!

So this may not be a shock to people who know me, but I like winning.  I like games and competitions and chances to test myself, to prove myself.  And while the trill of the competition itself is nice, in the end I like to win.  For that reason I find it much more enjoyable to play games I think I can win and especially nice to feel like I have some "ace in the hole" solution to pull out when things get tough.  Almost like a parent running gamely alongside their kid, knowing that if they wanted to they could put on the extra burst of speed and make it to the finish line first.  Or the tortoise, plodding along but knowing in the end that slow and steady will win the race, no matter how fast the hare goes at first.

On Saturday I ran in the Lake Minnewaska Half Marathon.  Having run the Twin Cities Marathon twice, the mere 13.1 miles seemed like a nice obtainable goal and a great way to get involved in something in my new community.  I did most the suggested training for it and entered the race feel at least somewhat confident in my ability to run and finish the race.  I started towards the back of the pack, figuring that like in the Twin Cities Marathon I would have a chance to slow pass a number of people through the race.  Instead I watched as the main pack of races continued to move further and further a head, and while there were always a few races behind me, there was not much chance of moving up at the pace I was going.  As the miles went by it became more and more clear that this was not going to change.  At one point I began to wonder if I would be able to finish at all.  I did not have an "ace in the hole" ... there was not some trick I could do.  Not only was I not going to really beat anyone in the race, I was also not sure I would finish at all.  In the end I did finish, I "dug deep" and kept plodding along, finishing 55th out of 77 and 11th out of 12 in the 18-30 male division.  Not terrible but certainly not great either.

We have lots of great expressions like "winning isn't everything" that certainly apply here.  I did a get a sense of satisfaction for finishing the race.  And despite the rain and the pain in my legs, it was mostly an enjoyable experience while I did it.  But during the race there was a nagging temptation to not make it about winning.  "I am just doing it for fun" or "I am just a casual runner."  Both of those were true, I had no illusions about winning or placing well, and I am certainly a casual runner.  At the same time it bugged me I could not do better.  At the same time I really did want to succeed.  Is it helpful to try and turn off our competitive drive when we think we cannot win?  Is it helpful to try and move the goal posts so no matter what we can make them?  What do we lose in the process?  What do we give up on when we are not trying our best?  What do we lose when we do just focus on winning instead?

I do want a spend a moment connecting this to the church, cause that is part of why I blog ... but I hope the thoughts above stand on their own and so if you stopped reading now it would be fine ...

I think we are at a time in the church when we do not know what winning looks like (though we are probably sure we are not doing it) and we are at a time where it is tempting to look quickly for some goal posts we can make it to, we can succeed at.  Certainly the desire to win is dangerous, especially if it starts to be our raison d'etre instead of serving God.  On the other hand, not competing, not trying to "win" seems antithetical to our call as well, especially if we defining winning in terms of the great commission and bringing about the Kingdom of God ... do we really have a choice but to seek after these things, to run this race that is before us.  The nice thing about a race is that the goal is defined by someone else ... you will run 13.1 miles or 5k or 26.2 or whatever the distance is.  We need to find a similar goal for the church, so that those of us who want to dig deep and compete have something to aim for, something to push us forward and hopefully move us all in the same direction.

The Tragedy of Death

Like many others I have been listening, watching and reading all the coverage there has been of the recent death of Bin Laden.  I have been overcome with a wave of different emotions as I contemplate all that has occurred and what it means.  In the end I am left with sorrow.  I remember 9/11 and what that day was like.  What I remember most about 9/11 was one of the professors at Beloit College, sitting on the steps, crying, weeping that this would undo all the work that had been for peace, for tolerance, for justice.  Now, almost 10 years later can we really say that things are over?  Did the death of Bin Laden really change things, or is it just the next domino in the tragic chain that has been rippling through our lives since those towers came down, since those airplanes were transformed from methods of transportation into methods of destruction and death?

On April 30th, Hitler committed suicide rather than risk capture by the oncoming forces, on May 1st, Bin Laden is killed by US forces and if we enter the realm of fantasy, on May 2nd, Lord Voldemort dies in the Battle of Hogwarts.  Three people who would often be attributed with evil.  Three people who ordered the deaths of hundreds and even thousands.  And yet today as I prepare for Mother's Day on Sunday I came upon these words, written to the tune of the Battle Hymn of the Republic.  "We shall not commit injustice in the name of justice done ... we shall not seek honor in the death of any mother's son ... Christ's peace shall reign on earth"

All three of these individuals, terrible though their actions may be are someone's son.  If we forget that, we become like them, able to see death as nothing more than a means to achieve our ends.  If we are to recover from 9/11 we must find a way to reverse this, to undo this cycle of violence that only spirals onwards.  Now we live in fear of reprisals for our actions, counterattacks by followers of Bin Laden seeking to avenge his death which will only cause us to need to avenge more deaths.  Is death totally avoidable?  Can we truly live nonviolently?  I would like to believe so, but whether or not it is possible, I know this, even in the death of someone like Bid Laden, there is cause for sorrow, here is someone's son ... here is a child of God ... what can we do to make sure that other sons and daughters do to not end up the same.

"Onward" a better Call to Action?

While I do not plan to blog each week about the book I am reading, the latest book I have read, "Onward" by Howard Schultz feels particularly fitting for the church.  The book is written, with help of course, by the CEO of Starbucks who talks about how he came back as CEO as Starbucks and the economy were in the midst of a downward spiral and eventually managed to turn Starbucks around even as the economy continued to languish.

Obviously the recession was not good for Starbucks, but Schultz's feeling is that Starbucks was hurting even before then and the economic downturn only magnified or perhaps revealed flaws that were already present.  In fact he really seems to feel that the past success of Starbucks and its rapid growth became a barrier to its further healthy growth as a company.  In the midst of massive store openings and rampant success Starbucks began to lose focus on its innovation and even its core value of providing great coffee and a community environment, a "third space."

Starbucks was able to turn itself around in part because it stopped resting on its past success, it stopped allowing pressure for further such growth to distract it and instead returned to its core purpose as a company.  Could we in the church learn something from this?  One of the challenges is that denominationally and even at a local church level we lack someone with that same level of power that a CEO tends to have.  We also lack the same focus on a few core things.  While we have powerful statements like "making disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world" they lack the concreteness that would actually help us know what we as a church are supposed to be doing.  Are we meant to be a "third space" in the community like Starbucks?  Can we even compete with companies in that realm?  How do we know when we have made a disciple or transformed the world?  While Jesus gave us really big goals to shoot for, I think to turn the church around we need to hone in on what we are really trying to do.

For the last 40 years mainline churches have been declining in worship attendance and in membership.  Why this is happening is the subject of numerous books, but perhaps just as telling is I am not sure we could actually say why this matters.  Can we actually point to the fact that our decline numbers MEAN we are failing to make disciples or transform the world.  Thanks to our obsession with reporting in the UMC we can say that we have fewer professions of faith, one measure of discipleship and we could also look at our churchwide giving to various missions, one way of transforming the world.  Do these actually tell the whole story?  Maybe we as a church need some concrete sense of what we are going to try and do, what difference we are seeking to make in people's lives, then we would know what to be focused on, what we can look at cutting, and maybe be able in the future to see how things begin to turn around.

"The Dangerous Act of Worship"

As part of my goal to read more books I have been trying to work through the large stash of books I have acquired but not read over the years.  I just finished a book called "The Dangerous Act of Worship: Living God's Call to Justice" by Mark Labberton.  In it he talks about how the church, by in large is asleep, that we are failing to respond to the call of the Gospel on us and failing to live out our full potential.  In particular he names the fact that we tend to seek worship services that are comforting rather than disturbing.  He advocates that worship should in fact be something that awakens us to the need to do God's work in the world.

On the one hand I certainly have been guilty of what he has said.  Like most people I want to be liked and so like most people I respond to positive affirmations and shy away from negative ones.  I know that no one wants to hear that they are not giving enough, not doing enough or failing to love their neighbor as much as they should.  Instead we want to hear that we have already done more than enough, that we are well on our way to earning a gold star.  Preaching sermons that challenge us or worship services that raise questions about how much, or maybe how little we are doing runs counter to these tendencies.  At the same time, my reaction is to wonder how often we need "wake-up calls" do we really need to be reminded each week of the work we have to do in the world?  In fact if we emphasized it every week wouldn't we dilute the effect and desensitize ourselves to such a message?

The more I think about this though the more I think that being reminded regularly, even weekly about the need to be doing God's work in the world is exactly why we encourage worship on regular basis.  We need to constantly have this put before us or it gets lost amidst everything else we are doing.  We might have occasional moments of awakening, but generally we become lax if we are not constantly spiritually prodded towards action.  It may be hard to accomplish on a weekly basis, but I think we need to try and make sure our worship does push us out into the week, out into the work we need to do.  Spiritual rest is important.  Sabbath is necessary, but so to is a constant call to action, a constant reminder that justice is what our work is about, loving the least, the last the lost, that is all of us, and bring God's good news into the world.  It is a regular action that needs us, something we must constantly place before us, otherwise we lose sight of it in the midst of all the less-pressing but more present distractions in our lives.

What does it mean to be in a "rebuilding year"

Bishop Sally recently raised an interesting idea in her column for the Minnesota UMC website, http://minnesotaumc.org/BishopsCorner/TheBishopsMessage/tabid/40439/Default.aspx, she raises the question about whether like many sports teams the UMC is in a rebuilding year.  While I would certainly agree that by comparison it does not seem we are positioned for a championship run, nor are we really in a perennial contender category if our continued decline in membership and worship attendance are any indicators.

What does it mean for us to be in a rebuilding year?  In sports that can mean one of several things, it can simply be an excuse to fans while you try and sell tickets in the midst of a slump or it can be a dedicated attempt to try and build up a team from the ground up.  Usually a team that is rebuilding does not look for the quick fix of the free agent hire but instead works on building through drafting good young players and honing their skills through careful coaching and development.  In a rebuilding year the concern is less about attendance numbers, wins and lose, and instead is about growing that new base of players.  Older, popular players are often traded to acquire young talent, more draft picks, or simply to free up salary and save money since their effectiveness will be diminished down the road when the team is ready to move into a contender role.

So what does that mean for the church?  If we are really in a rebuilding time, what are the "young draft picks" we are developing?  Are these new churches? New lay leaders?  New clergy?  New ideas and practices?  What are the old standbys that we need to trade or let go in order to leave room for the new players AND reduce our costs during this phase?

I see two dangerous paths ahead for the church if we are to play this analogy out further ... we risk becoming like the Cubs, a team with an incredibly long drought of not winning 102+ years and counting.  In the last 10 years the Cubs have seemed desperate for a winning season, to take the team to the next level.  They often have signed big name players and gambled their future in hopes of finally winning a World Series title.  This does not seem unlike the UMC, at least as I experience it, prone to jumping after quick fixes and new ideas in a hope of quickly turning things around, afraid to face a long process of rebuilding and more years of loss members and diminishing numbers.  Perhaps a worse fate than being the Cubs is being the Browns, a football team known for losing, whose fans almost seem to relish the loss of hope in their franchise (I may be exaggerating here).  When a team loses so often for so long you almost become numb to the losing, numb to the defeat and truly despairing that any change will make a difference.  I hope this is not where we are at.

If we really are in a "rebuilding year" do we have the patience to see it through?  The willingness to face more loses in hopes of a greater gain?  Are we willing to trade away our current star players and favorites to have a real hope of making disciples and transforming the world?