The theology blog

After the Sermon on the Mount comes this:

“Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I tell you? I will show you what someone is like who comes to me, hears my words, and acts on them. That on is like a man building a house, who dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock; when a flood arose, the river burst against that house but could not shake it, because it had been well built. But the one who hears and does not act is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the river burst against it, immediately it fell, and great was the ruin of that house.”

Luke 6:46-49 (NRSV, emphasis added)

Ryan and I talk theology while throwing goat poo the same as we talked it in the Abbey in DeLand, using my purple card to get 25% off delicious, near-and-far draft beers. Some of them are made by monks, and are especially good.

If we as people of faith are serious about our faith, then it shouldn’t be weird to be reminded of it while in a bar, or throwing fork-loads of poo and straw, or experiencing the joy of a family that has brought us into their community, or reading a poem. It shouldn’t be too weird to be encouraged in our faith by getting to know people, serving just as or more than we have been served, or how about confronting injustice like our country’s illegal/immoral invasion of Iraq and the subsequent deaths of 80,000+, the stop-lossing of our soldiers, and the billions of dollars that could have been spent on education; the cyclical cycle of poverty that has kept some communities without opportunity and badly educated since slavery times and more; the radical suburbization and destruction of natural Florida, its wildlife, and its natural hurricane protection? If “my faith is my life” as I’ve heard more than once from politicians on the national stage, then why would it be strange to talk about joys and issues facing my brothers and sisters in Christ and God’s Creation as revealed in the environment?

One of my favorite things about these conversations is that they are distinctly human conversations. Too often with fellow Christians I find us speaking of doctrine and spirituality as if we are already “[flown] away to a home on God’s celestial shore”, as the song goes, and we forget the distinctly human components of a faith-filled life such as the power of humility and forgiveness, inclusive love, and the joy – from symphonies to the environment to an individual’s passions and quirks – that we experience by living in a world imbued with divine creativity.

And yes, I believe there is divine creativity in hurling poo and wading through a pigsty. It takes some reconciling to myself, but I am thankful for being a steward of animals, even in the dirty jobs.

Bringing theology to a more everyday, tangible sense, is Jesus in this passage, and it hits me pretty hard. James continues it: “…be doers of the word,” he says,

…and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like. But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act––they will be blessed in their doing.

If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.

James 1:22-27 (NRSV, emphasis added)

Strong words. Cynical ones, perhaps cathartic. Good words for twentysomethings.

Much of our poo-throwing, dog walking, and goat-feeding time is spent discussing our generation and our own reasons for cynicism. Our generation is the black hole in the ministry of most churches, regularly lumping us in the with youth program, walking past us every Sunday at the coffee cart without a word, and even questioning whether there should be a ministry for our age group at all, for such a transient, low-tithing group. We have been raised in a culture where almost half of all marriages collapse. Where we’ve seen thousands of murders on TV, and in entertaining ways. Where bankers’ misdoings have left us without jobs. Where overly big corporations like Wal Mart chase out local retailers and invade the distinct cultures of third-world countries. We have seen fearmongering drive us to illegal war, torture, and over a trillion dollars of lost funds that could have been channeled to education, science, and health care. We have seen criminality drive us to fear our brothers and sisters because, in many ways, of a criminally poor educational system and a cyclical cycle of poverty that has gone on for generations. Worse, we have seen generations of people, and even Christians, who turn a blind eye to such things because such things make them uncomfortable.

I want to sit in the houses of social outcasts and social elites as Jesus did, knowing our similarities outweigh our differences. I want to reconcile capitalists and communists, rich and poor, Christians and Muslims (and atheists too, for all have valid concerns), old-Americans and newly-arrived immigrant Americans. As a Christian, I want to see the Church reconcile itself to my generation by focusing on how Jesus calls us to live and act toward our brothers and sisters instead of trying to believe it all correctly in the head.

Thank you for Foundry UMC and the other churches that take the challenge of my generation seriously. For my part, I want honesty from you, then love, and then, perhaps, programming. Instead of “What can we do to bring in twentysomethings?” as I’ve heard a number of times, I think the questions should be, “How welcoming, inclusive, and honest are we as a congregation?” Are we willing to welcome and include people regardless of age, gender, orientation, and race and will we realize that, as people, we all have something in common? Are we following the greatest commandment––to love God with all our being and our neighbor as our own selves––or are putting some other bit of doctrine or politics in the greatest place?

Honestly, you’ll get many of us back when we have kids. We will want them brought up in a community and––in a nominally Christian culture––the church will provide a dutiful Sunday fix. But the world will not change with an attitude like this. Unknowingly, they are hearers and not doers, as James said, and the widows and orphans are left unattended. A church that waits for us to walk back in the doors ––and avoids the injustices in the Church and world that have kept us out of Church in the first place––this is the foolish church without a foundation, the church that falls down.

Gandhi said something like, “If I ever saw a real Christian I would be one.” Perhaps what we need isn’t a flawless church, because the Church is made of people and people have a habit of messing up. Rather, let us be the humble and focused Church, knowing that our vices are common to our humanity, yet striving after Christ nonetheless, where there is forgiveness and justice and healing. Perhaps this is what makes us real. Perhaps this is the honesty us cynical folk need to enliven us.