On Whether 'they' should be called "Illegal Aliens" or "Undocumented Workers"

I call them "children of God."

Because, thank God, I am not a politician.

I am a Christian.

Absolutely, we can have different opinions about immigration policy.

But let us never forget that we are talking about people, people for whom Jesus died.

Unaffiliated

That's the fastest growing category listed for people in their religious preferences right now.

We talked a little about this during my ecumenical clergy lunch this noon. We talked about a lot of things, actually; we learned that the mayor of our city prays for us regularly, and vowed to pray for city officials as well (school board, police, firefighers, teachers, city board, etc.). We talked about the National Day of Prayer; one of our members is a Police Chaplain in Another City. He had been invited to a Community Prayer Breakfast that morning. When he looked at the website, he discovered that it was run by an extremely right-wing group; the speaker for that morning compares Obama to Hitler. So, he declined to attend.

But, I digress. Among all the things we talked about: how to work for the common good in our community, whether to be a part of the 4th of July Parade this year, someone mentioned that the fastest growing religious category right now is "unaffiliated."

Atheism is growing too, but "unaffiliated" people aren't necessarily atheists. Some of them may be; some of them aren't. They are people who don't affiliate with any religious organizations. They're not Lutheran or Catholic or Presbyterian or Baptism or non-denominational or even Buddhist or Ba'hai. They are 'unaffiliated.'

It seems to me that there are at least two (probably more) reasons for this, but two that I can identify. One I am very sympathetic to; the other, not as much.

First, people have become more and more suspicious of institutions. I'm sympathetic to this particular suspicion. Although the Catholic church and the priest abuse scandal has been much in the news lately, you don't have to search very hard to find different kinds of abuse of trust in other religious institutions. And you can certainly find instances where it seems that people were "using" the religious office for their own, less edifying, goals. Some people have a hard time with religious leaders who, for example, have their own private plane. Others have a hard time with religious hierarchy which protects the powerful at the expense of the weak.

So, people who wonder about the institution of the church, who have a hard time trusting for one reason or another: I get that. We are looking for autheticity, not bureaucracy. I am looking for authenticity, too.

On the other hand, I think there is very much an individualistic impulse in us, an impulse that resists working with genuine (but flawed) community. Community is life-giving, but also risky. When we live with other and let them get to know us, we can be blessed, but we can be hurt as well. It's tempting to opt out. Actually, I can understand part of this impulse, too.

A number of years ago I heard about a little church where the pastor had cancer. The church members supported and prayed for their pastor. They also gave several fundraisers to help defray the costs of his expensive treatments and travels to Another City. Then, it came out: the whole story was a Lie. The pastor had never had cancer. He used the money raised to go to Another City for vacation.

Or something.

Those of us who are disciples of Jesus who also affiliate with churches know both the blessing of living and working together, but also the pain of falling-short. We know when others have let us down, when we have been hurt, when our lofty ideas of what Christian Community is supposed to be about have come crashing down. And yet....

As for me, I struggle with wanting the church to be Better, but knowing it will never be Perfect.

The Annual Meeting

I remember going to our congregation's annual meeting as a kid. I know, it seems weird to think it now, but I sat next to my parents and colored while they voted for who would be the next Church Council President. It was always a contest then, too. There were two people up for every position in the church, so there was a winner and there was a loser.

Later on, there would just be one person nominated for each position, so it wasn't so exciting to go to the annual meeting and find out who would be the next Church Council President. Instead, there was the Budget. More often than not, I remember some dramatic announcement about the budget (usually that we did not have enough money to pay a particular musician), and an equally dramatic announcement from the floor to cover that person's salary for the next year.

As an adult, I've never felt totally comfortable about annual meetings. This is probably due to a couple of occasions where controvery broke out. Usually annual meetings are boring and go smoothly, but there are exceptions.

I had three churches in my first parish, and at one of the first annual meetings, someone stood up and questioned why I was getting a salary increase after only six months as their pastor. After an awkward moment of silence, another man stood up and said, "Well, Floyd, you were at that budget meeting where we decided that." Everything went pretty smoothly after that.

I've noticed a tendency for fewer and fewer people to stay for the annual meeting of the congregation. This is particularly noticeable among young people. We've tried everything, including nursery services and serving a chili dinner. Young people, with very few exceptions, don't stay. Older people seem to think that this indicates a lack of interest and investment in the congregation.

I think there might be a couple of other possibilities. One has to do with the business aspect of the congregation. There is often great talk about how you have to run a congregation like a business. But perhaps that is just the thing that turns younger people off about the church as a business. I wouldn't mind having some younger people's perspective about this.

I also wonder about the draw of an annual meeting. There's a temptation to think that you have to have something exciting to talk about; that will draw the people. But I think if annual meetings are fraught with conflict, that too is not a draw to younger people.

I know that in the church as an organization and a legal entity, you need to have annual meetings. But I wonder about the viability. I also wonder whether newer members, stumbling into some of the meetings I have attended, would emerge with their faith intact.

People join and affiliate with a local congregation because of a deep spiritual hunger and thirst, because of a longing for authentic community, because they need to hear and participate in the truth of the gospel. They join and affiliate because of sacraments in their hands, the word in their ears, real people struggling to be disciples in the real world. They don't join a "business" and hope to attend annual meetings.

One of the Temptations

I remember a conversation I had several years ago.

I was talking to my boyfriend at the time (not the one who would later become my husband.... ). I related a story I had heard about my grandfather. My aunt had told me that he used to shake his head and say, "I just don't know how anyone can be a Christian and a Democrat."

My boyfriend chuckled and said, "And we think just the opposite."

Just as if someone had hit my knee with one of those little hammers, I shot back a little, "No."

But he was just being honest.

And that's the temptation, always.

How can a good person think differently than we do? I am passionate about justice, about ending poverty, about creating opportunity, about ending racism, about advocating for children, about caring for the environment, about treating all people with respect. And those passions come from my faith values.

How can a good person come to a different conclusion about how to strive for these values politically?

In my congregation we have different political affiliations. In some quarters that is considered a liability. You know, now you have to be a "progressive" congregation or a "conservative" congregation. We're more united by our politics than by our denominations. But what if instead of Democrats, Republicans, conservatives, liberals, middle-class, upper-class, German, Polish, Catholic, or Pentecostal, we could see ourselves in the one way that would unite us: sinners. Forgiven sinners.

We are acting passionately based on our faith values. We are also making mistakes and getting it wrong.

We are open-minded and we are racist. We are cocky and we are humble. We are solving the problems of the world, and we are making them worse.

What do you think? Just wondering....

Politics and People

I was going to write the second installment of "the history of Scout, our dog," but instead...


I spent this weekend at my church's "Synod Assembly". Every year we get together to make decisions, vote on resolutions, vote on who will represent us on various boards and committees. Every once in awhile we elect a bishop. Usually we get higher attendance at these particular gatherings, because clergy and lay folk alike get the impression that this time their vote really does count.

For the past several years, one topic has come up again and again in church assemblies: sex. We (and other mainline denominations) have been trying to figure out what to do about the fact that there are gay and lesbian Christians worshiping in our churches -- and some who are serving as pastors. There are no magic answers to this, although it seems like there is a deep desire to have a study come out with a Definitive Answer once and for all: this is what the Bible says.

This year there are a couple of pastors who might be removed from the clergy roster and their congregations. Several people spoke on behalf of the pastors; others were opposed. The very first person to speak was a man who started by saying: "My name is J. I graduated from this college in 1979 and entered seminary...." he continued by saying that the realization that he was gay led to his exit from seminary. How he had struggled, and finally found a church home in the UCC. How he had met his partner of 17 years at church (of all places), when the man leaned over and said to him, after a hymn, "Nice harmony." How after his mother's death he wanted to return to the church of his youth, and had finally found a Lutheran church which was welcoming to him.

However, I was stuck at "My name is J." Because he was my friend from college. We graduated the same year. We belonged to the same religious group, called "Lutheran Youth Encounter." We travelled to different churches, did youth programs and worship services. We were on the same "team", so we knew each other pretty well. One time a group of us all went to "A Prairie Home Companion" together. This was at a time when you could stand in line on Saturday and get in for $3.00 During the monologue, Garrison Keillor said something about an election for mayor where a particular man didn't run, but he won on the write-in. J. started laughing hysterically. "That really happened in my town," he said.

During college, he was always clear that his plan was to go to seminary and be a pastor. So when I decided to go to Japan as a short-term missionary in 1981, of course I wanted him to be a part of the service -- J., another friend in seminary, and a woman I knew who grew up in Japan. I have a picture of all of us, August 31, 1981, all wearing albs, at my Commissioning service.

That was the last time I saw J. Until Friday. While in Japan, I heard that he quit seminary, had "issues". Someone thought he had even moved out of state. It seemed to me that he had dropped off the face of the earth.

I felt such a profound sense of loss, of grief. I tried to find him, to talk to him sometime during the weekend, but there were 500 people at the Assembly, and I couldn't locate him. I haven't spoken to him -- once my good friend -- in 25 years.

I hope that I will soon.