Flogged in the Synagogues

"You will be handed over to the local councils and flogged in the synagogues." Mark 13:9 

[Just a reminder that this blog is my own, and does not represent my organization or the denomination it serves. We do, however, have a valued history of vigorous discussion and differences of opinion within my church, and it is in that spirit that I write this.]

There is a dynamic that has entered at the leadership level of my denomination that I am watching with some interest and concern. Every five years a new leader of the denomination--note that I am not using the term "church," as that should refer to the people, not the organization--is elected. We got a new leader a little over a year ago, and he entered in a blaze, his first sermon, pointed and heavy with personal agenda, beamed out all over the world and uploaded to the internet for reference.

The new leader started off by preaching that, among other things, we need to get back to the historic beliefs, that we must not look to anyone from another denomination, let alone any other faith tradition, for ideas and speakers.  Furthermore, he stated, we should "stay away from non-biblical spiritual disciplines or methods of spiritual formation that are rooted in mysticism such as contemplative prayer, centering prayer, and the emerging church movement in which they are promoted."  The watchword was to pray for "revival and reformation."

"While we understand that worship services and cultures vary throughout the world, don't go backwards into confusing pagan settings where music and worship become so focused on emotion and experience that you lose the central focus on the Word of God," he said. And he went on to admonish us that we must all believe in a "biblical record of creation which took place recently; in six literal, consecutive, contiguous 24 hour days."

Since that noted beginning, which was actually applauded by some people I know, the new leader's speeches and actions have indicated that he sees himself as a guardian of the orthodoxy of the denomination--orthodoxy, of course, in the particular flavor that he deems to be the truth. This is a denomination which has officially avoided a creed, and which gives lip service to believing in "present truth," the idea that we can study and learn together over time, that we can let go of old understandings when it becomes clear that they are not representative of truth as biblically grounded.

I have found myself listening to this agenda, having long considered myself a conservative Christian (please do not read that term to denote anything political), and feeling marginalized, frustrated and worried for my denomination. It seems to me that a sort of "flogging in the synagogue" is on its way. Are we promulgating conspiracy theories about the insidious beliefs of fellow believers in our own denomination and hauling them in for a flogging before we throw them out and slam the door behind them? Jesus warned his disciples that their belief in him--remember, they still considered themselves Jews--would get them flogged in their own synagogues.

In fact, I see a "flogging in the synagogue" has already begun, further fueled by the leader's call to hold each other accountable. People even more conservative than I are taking up ideological arms and going after those who may not believe as they do about spiritual formation, about origins and age of the earth, about the nature of biblical inspiration, and so on. The assumption seems to be that we all know in detail (or can find out from the sanctioned denominational leaders and institutes) what set of beliefs constitute the gold standard. That has not surprisingly unleashed an effort for Member A to hold Member B accountable to Member A's interpretations of God. It doesn't take much to spot the inherent dangers.

For most readers of my blog, even the short list of issues at the beginning of the last paragraph will drive them nuts. And rightfully so. Why are these crazy people arguing over things like this when people are dying of starvation, people are homeless and desperate, people are killing each other in senseless wars, people are trafficking women and children into sexual slavery, people are creating child soldiers and making them commit heinous acts of violence? Who cares whether you pray in some different style from me, when there is a suffering world to be helped with whatever small things I can do to make a difference? What good is God, you ask, if his children are spending their time arguing among themselves and beating each other up on the playground?

I ask those questions, too.

It makes me deeply sad that some leaders of my church are focusing on arguing the old laws and traditions (and there's something to be said for old laws and traditions), tithing the mint and cumin (so to speak), and fretting over whether they are going to follow the current version of Rabbi Hillel or Rabbi Shammai. I have tried to look as benevolently as possible on this new leader, to give him the benefit of the doubt. But the proof is in the pudding. The "floggings in the synagogue," so to speak, are a sign of a church that is turning in on itself.

So why do I stay? I stay because my local church family is not like that. Because my local area church leadership is not like that. Because I have traveled and met church family around the world, and they aren't paying any attention to the issues that we argue over in North America. They are loving Jesus and one another, reaching out to help others, alleviating suffering, coming alongside people to help them to a better life. I can stay signed in for that. My church needs me to stay signed in for that.

Your Intentions Are Good

Quote by Augusten Burroughs

"You are a person with a sincere heart and, well, I hear people say your intentions are good." 

When I first heard someone make a comment like this, it made me vaguely and abidingly uneasy, but I couldn't pin down why. A number of times now, I've heard it said by people of other people. It finally dawned on me recently: No one wants to be known by others for good intentions alone. 

While good intentions signify that a person is not evil, they don't signify that a person is competent. In fact, if someone has to compliment you on your good intentions, chances are that they have a quibble with your actual actions.  A big quibble. They think you're incompetent or stupid or unreasonable. They're just being too nicey-nicey or passive aggressive to name it to you, or to the person with whom they're speaking.

In my current opinion, telling someone else that "my intentions are good" is highly preferable to someone else saying to me, "Your intentions are good."  The former is a reassurance. The latter is at best a condescending pat on the head, and at worst, a slap-down.

That's what I'm thinkin'.

The Flashpoint

Image found here

The chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were looking for evidence against Jesus so that they could put him to death, but they did not find any. Many testified falsely against him, but their statements did not agree. Then some stood up and gave this false testimony against him: “We heard him say, ‘I will destroy this temple made with human hands and in three days will build another, not made with hands.’” Yet even then their testimony did not agree.  Mark 14:55-59

What were they looking for? What had made them so upset that they dragged this teacher to the high priest's place at night and tried him in a kangaroo court? Why were they so fearful and angry that they were willing to kill a man who had a significant following and had done no harm to anyone?

He had threatened the temple.

Seriously?

Consider that there is, in most tribes, a flashpoint: something symbolic that you can't touch or threaten without making them fiercely angry, without it possibly resulting in violence. With conservative Muslims, it's the prophet. With Americans, it might be the flag. With the men of the dorm at my university, it's the Omicron Pi Sigma seal set into the floor of the lobby. (It was one of our low points, one year, when a young squirrely upstart dared to jump up and down on it, taunting, and the dorm men nabbed him and shaved his head.)

In actuality, Jesus had said while standing in the temple courts, "Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days." But the temple was their flashpoint. Put the words "destroy" and "temple" in the same sentence, and the leaders of this tribe saw red.

Jesus would have known that. So why did he say it? Because there was something bigger than their icon, something all-important. God. Bigger than a landmark, bigger than a place of worship, bigger than celebrity, bigger than the fundamental beliefs of any religion. Love God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, with all your strength (and your neighbor as yourself, by the way).

So let's say that Jesus showed up today and named the flashpoint for Christians? What if he wanted us to know that God is bigger than our attachment to some icon? What "icon" would he name?

In my tribe the flashpoint would be the Bible, with all our associated traditions and rules. What if Jesus said, "Your Bible is transitory. Your traditions aren't important. All that matters is that you love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength"?  I think that would raise a notable ruckus. But I think the record shows he said exactly that when asked, "What is the greatest commandment?"

More and more, I want to know what it means to live by that one rule, nothing else: Love. God.

[And for this, I hope to not be stoned.]

What Makes You Crazy?

I attended a seminar this past week on coaching abrasive leaders in the workplace. It was amazing. Eye-opening. Exciting. But that's not what I'm wanting to talk about at the moment.

During the seminar, our instructor asked us to come back the next day prepared to share what makes us just go crazy. Makes us so furious that we'd lose it, either figuratively or literally. Something that would have us seeing red and could interrupt our ability to work with a client.

It didn't take me long to identify my hot button. I can survive a variety of ugly behaviors in my classroom, in my family, in my acquaintances, and in my job. People attack, people hold grudges, people label, people criticize, people self-serve at the expense of others, people disengage rather than working through an issue, people mistreat. None of these are easy. But one thing that is guaranteed to make me crazy--although not screaming, object-throwing crazy--is lying.

Thinking about it the other night, I tried to pin down why I get so angry when someone lies. Was some great wrong done to me as a child in which someone lied? I can't remember any. Did a close friend betray me by lying?  Acquaintances, yes. Close friend, no. Did I ever fall in love with someone who lied to me? No.

But I do remember instances when I've felt horribly upset about someone lying. For example, after I moved on from my vice principal job in southern California, my former colleague told me that the young man who was cleaning the school office had gone in and messed with the records on my desk. He was in my class, he was friendly with me around the school, I liked him greatly after having him in my class for most of the six years I taught there ... and at the same time he was pulling and destroying referral slips for himself and his friends so that they wouldn't get in trouble. I felt angry and betrayed, finding out about it.

That one was significant. But for some reason, it goes to extremes with me. Even having someone say to me on the phone, "I'm calling from across town" as a prank just as they ring the doorbell, makes me crazy. Don't lie to me. Don't.

I think it boils down to this for me: I want to know that the earth will not shift underneath my feet. Do me the favor of always being truthful with me, and I will trust you. No matter what comes up between us, I must know that you are telling the truth to the very best of your ability.  We can work through it together if we have at least enough goodwill to be honest with one another. If not, well, we have nothing to discuss, because discussion is a sham when it's based on false pretenses.

Is there something that makes you crazy, the thing you can't stand, more than anything else? Care to share?

P.S.  Here is a fascinating blog on the topic of lying that I follow. "Eyes" endeavors to educate her blog readers about how to spot that someone is lying.

A Walk Along the River

My friend Betty, who lives in and old stone house in the south of France, was over for a visit last year. I drove down the Columbia River Gorge to where she was staying in Mosier, Oregon. Betty's husband, Jean-Yves, is an avid windsurfer, and that's what brings him to Mosier. That stretch from Hood River to Mosier to The Dalles is prime windsurfing riverfront, as the wind often whooshes through the Gorge at a rate sufficient to raise some energetic white caps on the river.

Those are windurfers down there on the river, in case you didn't notice.

We had been sitting around and talking, and someone suggested going for a walk. Betty and her hosts took us to the Historic Columbia River Highway State Trail, which starts on the edge of Mosier and goes all the way to Hood River. And that's how I got acquainted with the trail, and brought Husband to meet it when we had a spare hour on one of the four trips I took through the area this summer.

The layers of rock are so clear; this is a great place for amateur geologists.

The trail is in a beautiful region where you can see the layers of earth created by the volcanic activity of the Cascade Mountains.

Looking east

The trail goes high above the "new" highway which follows the gorge at the river's edge.

There's actually a house on the other side of that island in the river, with a little pier.  That's the kind of place that would have caught my fancy and imagination for all kinds of stories when I was a kid.

Notice the VERY long train in this photo, typical of what you'll see as you're enjoying the sights along the river

On the north (or "Washington") side of the river, as well as the south side, railways fight the highways for space along the river. And in fact, that is what has caused the need for tunnels on both sides of the river.

Husband wanted to run through the tunnels, just for fun.

The sign at the start of the trail reads thus:  "The rugged landscape of the Columbia River Gorge posed significant obstacles to the design and construction of the Historic Columbia River Highway. Here, between Hood River and Mosier, a right-of-way conflict with the railroad forced engineer John A. Elliott to to locate the road away from the river and to design tunnels through steep basalt cliffs.

And yes, there IS light at the end of the tunnel!

"The 17-foot-wide Mosier Twin Tunnels easily accommodated two-way traffic by Model T's. But as automobiles became larger, accidents were common--despite widening to 20 feet. Although signals eventually regulated one-way traffic, waiting vehicles were vulnerable to falling rock from the bluffs above.

He waits for me to catch up.

"With construction of a water grade thoroughfare in the 1950s, the tunnels were closed and filled. Thanks to the efforts of Oregon's Senator Mark O. Hatfield, restoration of these famous tunnels as part of a hiking and bicycling path began in 1995."

The tunnels, two in a row referred to as the "Twin Tunnels," were finished in 1921. In that same year, a couple of travelers (Sadilek and Marvin) got caught in a blizzard and took refuge in the tunnels, which were also closed by an avalanche, and were snowbound from November 19 to 27, when they were rescued. It must have been a long, long eight days in there.

Watch your head!

Speaking of rockfalls and avalanches, the west end of the tunnels has a long section that runs under a concrete roof held up by sturdy concrete pillars, as the rock falls from the cliffs above are dangerous to hikers and cyclists. Once you emerge from that section, you're still going to want to keep an eye on the cliffs; the divots in the paving and rocks on the road are testament to the continuing saga of rocks that are pried off by water, ice, rain, winds and gravity.

It seems like there's a beautiful place anywhere you find a long and winding road.

If you're ever in the area, I highly recommend the trail for a good walk or bike ride. While I've not gotten to walk the whole length of it from Mosier to Hood River (or vice versa) I intend to do that one of these days. As always, the Gorge does not disappoint!

I'm Not Leaving

I just finished reading I'm Not Leaving, by Carl Wilkens. Carl (he was a senior the year I was a freshman in college) was the only American to stay in Rwanda throughout the genocide of 1994.  This book tells of his experience, of the choices he and others made, of the strange situations where the killers had moments of helping him to save those who they were out to kill. The story is riveting, excellently told. He is helped in retelling his story by the fact that he recorded cassette tapes of his stories for his wife while he lived through the horror, thinking that he might not make it out alive. 

The book assumes that you have some understanding of the basic story of the Rwandan genocide. I found it helpful to come to the reading of it having watched two movies:  Hotel Rwanda, and 100 Days. Both are extremely sobering, but as we've been reminded by those who have survived Hitler's genocide, if we do not tell the stories and remember, the world is more likely to repeat such atrocities.

If you'd like to get a taste of Carl telling his story--a pleasure I've had on several occasions--have a look at this video.

Carl's humanitarian work has been recognized by several awards, including the Dignitas Humana Award (2004) and the Medal of Valor from the Simon Wiesenthal Center (2005).  He now travels for his nonprofit organization, World Outside My Shoes, speaking to schools and organizations in a effort to inspire and equip people to stand up against genocide, racism and intolerance.