"theology"

Peter's Pentecostal Preaching


I was struck while, hearing the lectionary reading a few weeks ago from the book of Acts and the story of Pentecost. Peter and the disciples were thought to be drunk. I imagine people laughing and dancing, seemingly a bit socially confusing.  

Rather than beginning with a clear defense, an explanation, Peter orients those present to a non-didactic social imagination from a prophet long deceased. He references dreams and visions. Dreams and visions begin with grand and uncontrolled stories that are witnesses more than they are spoken. They are emotionally impressive rather than intellectual. And, visions and dreams are unreasonable. Dreams and visions are more like blending and stirring together of ironic or even opposing ideas. Dreams and visions, iconic images, irrepressible illustrations, and redemptive social imaginations - these are the tools of poets, artists, and those who break the edges of molds and forms established by powers, empires, and religious leaders who believe their job is to stabilize. Like the artists I've known, these Pentecostal disciples formed a performance art piece that got people talking.

And the work of art they emerged within, and they fit into, they blend, into an emotionally charged whole.

Are there answers like these to "explain" the performance art of our unreasonable and irrrepressible imaginations? Or, do we not seem noticeable to our neighbors, not "drunk" enough, but far too sober?

Zwingli's and Luther's Kids

My friends, a Presbyterian minister, and a Lutheran minister are studying the Apostles Creed with a joint confirmation class. A nice experience of ecumenism: the children of Zwingli and Luther sitting in a class reading the Bible together, studying the historic creeds and confessions, and Luther's Short Catechism. As this class began to study the Apostles Creed, I was invited to speak on the first article from a Mennonite perspective.

Mennonites, after all, are perceived to be connected to the land. My years in Kansas affirmed that assumption. The emerald green waves of winter wheat draw your sight to ground, then to the horizon, and eventually to the big wide open sky. The earth, its sky and soils are a providential act of unconditional love.

I tried to explain a little of the Mennonite history of baptism upon confession and how it was interpreted as a protest against a state run church; how refraining from infant baptism was an act of treason against the state (a form of tax evasion); how Anabaptist folk were driven to the wilderness and countryside through harsh persecution. Persecution made all the more harsh by the wedded powers of the church and the state. Eventually transitioning to a rural and agrarian culture. It was hard to keep this moving forward for a bunch of 12 and 13 year olds. So I tried not to dwell on too much history.

We talked a little about the historic experience of Mennonites in Europe, fleeing to Russia. While not trying to slight the Swiss Mennonites, we spoke only briefly of the 13 families that came to Pennsylvania by invitation of William Penn. But manly, we spoke of the Dutch/Low German Mennonites who journeyed to Russian, becoming, at Catherine the Great's pronouncement, the "quiet in the land". These Mennonites quietly came to America beginning in the 1870s to the Great Plains, leading to the growth of Mennonite farming and the affected the world-wide production of wheat. A historical event that we still experience with every bite of bread.

But most interesting was the open conversation around the question of similarities and differences. What is the difference between Lutherans, Presbyterians, and Mennonites. When confronted by this question in front of kids in seventh and eighth grade, sophisticated answers don't cut it. While we have different interpretations of the Bible and the creeds, we had one moment in which we three pastors made clear to the kids that we read from the same text. And that that same text, the Bible, we all agreed was a document given by God to people.

The idea of a "normalizing norm," is just this kind of conversation. A conversation, not among esoterica and theological sophisticates, but with kids seeking to mature in faith - in this conversation we had to come to the norm we all hold in common and common esteem. It's not the differences we begin with, but our shared value of the Bible. Then, from a common text in which we can dwell we can begin to talk about the different histories and reflections that have shaped our theological imaginations and cultures.

It's not a big thing. This was a casual, relaxed encounter among three Christian traditions. The lasting power of the content of the evening will wane - quickly, most likely. However, if these young people in Christian formation can get a glimpse of the fact that we are all held together in the same body of Christ, then the lasting lesson is probably the best.

De-liberation: Thoughts about Proper 18 Year A

Exodus 12 is about liberation. The freedom God made available to the Hebrew slaves in Egypt became a foundational narrative in the biblical story. From time to time, kings, priests, and prophets would retell the story to recall the mercy and power of God.

Matthew 18 is about liberation. The freedom God made available to the Hebrew slaves in Egypt, but also the freedom to other generations of exiles, becomes the Jesus-centered narrative telling of the mercy and power of God.

Both passages are concerned about process, though. You don't just get freed. Freedom requires some kind of deliberation. In Blogging Toward Sunday, Kristin Swenson writes, "Jesus and Paul agree that it requires careful consideration and judgment on our parts. In other words, as people of God, we have great responsibility to determine, in the day to day of our lives, how to love. Simply being nice isn't going to cut it. Real love in a down and dirty world requires informed deliberation (italics mine) and sometimes tough choices. Jesus' remark about "whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven" brings to mind less a geographical place than a state of being. How we love or fail to love affects our relationships both to others and to God. Maybe, as Jesus suggests, in our dealings with others, we are not only learning to love, but we are also constantly shaping heaven."

Deliberation, while it sounds thoughtful, also runs counter to our intuitions about freedom. Taking the word apart a bit, to deliberate would mean to attach or bind oneself to something. There is an undoing of liberation in the prefix "de". There is a trading in of one bondage, and choosing something else to which we bind ourselves, not in bondage, but in choice.

Please take a listen to "I Bind My Heart This Tide," from the Mennonite Hymnal, sung here by Farther Along.

There's a surging freedom in becoming de-liberated.

Wonder No More...


Ever wonder about the hidden life of the small track speedway? I never did. Now I do. Sort of....

In fact, now I think about it in less than charitable ways. I know as a missionary to this culture, I have to find common ground and a way to engage in what God is already doing. God is present. But this will be a theological and anthropological adventure.

I have not yet been fully introduced to this alien culture. Growing up in the suburbs of Phoenix, our racing experiences were through the Wide World of Sports (that shows my age!). Never in all that time, did I ever see what happened once the crowd had gone home.

Last Sunday night, our local speedway had its delightful, "Trailer Trash Races." However, our job was not to enjoy the race, but to clean up afterward. My son's baseball team was cleaning up the trash each Sunday morning after the Saturday night races as a way to raise money for next year's baseball tournament season. Being environmentally responsible, we'd separate the plastic from the trash for recycling. But both plastic and trash told a story.

Plastics: why don't people finish what they purchase? So many soda and water bottles were still nearly full. Furthermore, the 85 oz "beer buckets" were usually empty. But some were not as empty as one would wish. The spray and drips of old beer kinda made one long for a shower.

Trash: The real joy was in the weekly competition of counting disposable diapers in the bleachers. The first week was three. The second week was four. But the last two weeks were only two and one respectively. With all the noise of the roaring engines, why would there be babies there?

Anyway, looking at the detritus, the debris, and the unfinished treasures of the speedway filled me with a strange desire to keep learning about this alien culture residing within in my own community. As anthropologists dig through the dumps of ancient civilizations past, they find insights to the culture under study. Going through ancient Mayan trash, or the garbage of ancient Jerusalem might be better - at least their beer buckets would have lost their stench over the eons.

But the missiological pursuit will continue - but this time, I'll do it from the top side of the bleachers. And I will finish my soda and throw it in the recycling bin.

Youth Baseball

I've always known, deep down that baseball is one of the most divinely inspired team sports. The poetic rhythms of the game:
  • the emphasis on the presence of the Trinity
  • the reality that the best in the game strike-out most of the time
  • the desire to get home, either by transcendence (out of the park), or by immanence (around the bases)
  • and many more....
I may have the opportunity to become a part of the board of directors for our town's youth baseball league. It would be a great opportunity to help the game and our kids. That is easy for me to see as a missional endeavor. However, if I'm mediocre at the job, it would be an embarrassment to the church.

The patron saint of non-ball player baseball administrators, Bart Gaimatti, needs to inspire me. He got Pete rose out of baseball, on agreeable terms, he rekindled the passion for the poetry of the game, honored it's traditions, and cared about the fans. But on the downside, he died in office of heart failure, one week before his one-year anniversary as the commissioner. Sacrifice bunt?

Missional baseball leadership? Hmmm.