"We're an overconfident species." So writes columnist David Brooks in The Modesty Manifesto printed in this past Friday's New York Times.
He goes on to write that "there's abundant evidence to suggest that we have shifted from a culture that emphasized self-effacement -- I'm no better than anyone else, but nobody is better than me -- to a culture that emphasizes self-expansion."
This is possibly, he believes, a reason for some of our current problems in the United States. We have so inflated our sense of self, so fallen into narcissism, that political leaders are no longer motivated to listen to those who disagree with them, making it nearly impossible to reach the sort of compromise, let alone consensus, that allows us to make the difficult decisions that will have a long-term impact on the United States.
"Citizenship, after all," he writes, "is built on an awareness that we are not all that special but are, instead, enmeshed in a common enterprise."
I think Brooks is on to something here that speaks directly to a central challenge for congregational life in these early years of the 21st century. We in the church are trying to create religious communities in an age in which people are looking for personal spiritual fulfillment. In other words, it seems to me that so often people seek a church because they are yearning for self-expansion.
Understand, please, that I'm not being critical. Too many people have been hurt or pushed down by the church, their schools, or some other institution (or even their families). As Jesus did with the woman who committed adultery (see John 8:2-11) we need to lift people up, proclaiming to them that they are not condemned but loved. There are a lot of people out there who need some healthy self-expansion.
Yet didn't Jesus invite us to give up our selves and follow him? Are we not inviting people into a divine community, into a religious citizenship that is, to use Brooks' words, "enmeshed in a common enterprise"? To create this community, don't we need to invite people to look beyond their own personal fulfillment to work for the fulfillment of the whole? And is it not true that, paradoxically, each of us finds our truest sense of fulfillment when we give our selves over to the Jesus we experience and make manifest together?
So, it's Lent and for those of us who gathered at church on Ash Wednesday, we've been invited "to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God's holy Word" (Book of Common Prayer, p. 265).
There's a lot of "self" in that invitation, but somehow I'm thinking that all of this spiritual "work" I'm supposed to do during Lent is not supposed to be all about me, that it's not all about my personal relationship with Jesus.
What might happen if, during Lent, we focused on our relationships with both Jesus and each other, if we focused on our "common enterprise." That might even lead to some transformation, an expansion not simply of the self but of the community.
I'm thinking that -- perhaps -- that could be just what Jesus wanted.
Showing posts with label mission of the church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mission of the church. Show all posts
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Who are We Serving?
Easter is late this year so we're still a long way from Ash Wednesday. That means there's only one thing to call this time of year: it's parochial report season! If you don't know what a parochial report is, consider yourself fortunate. Parochial reports are annual reports to the Episcopal Church and dioceses that every congregation needs to fill out. They measure . . . what exactly?
OK, they measure how many members a church has, how many people (on average) attend each Sunday, and how much money your congregation has.
And this data means . . . what exactly?
What it means most years is that the Episcopal Church is a declining church. I don't have any numbers since 2008, but assuming the trends have been followed in 2009 and 2010 we continue to be a shrinking church.
And yet to put it that way is to assume that our congregations are not vital, that we have no faith and are simply struggling to survive. I suspect this is true in more congregations than we want to admit, but I also know that many are vital in ways that aren't easily measured. And I'm willing to bet that the vital ones are focused more on Jesus than on parochial reports.
I'm a subscriber to a congregational development group on Yahoo. I will admit that a lot of days go by when I don't read the posts. But I opened the email today and was immediately challenged. A diocesan staff person in North Dakota had asked about what to do about tiny churches (really tiny, with 10 people coming on Sunday morning). Should they be closed? Should they try to change? I found the response from a woman in Wisconsin fascinating (I'm editing a bit to give some context and not quote the entire post).
"The struggle [is] trusting the leadership -- of members asking themselves and each other -- Who do those people in the collars want to serve, who are they going to serve? Are they serving themselves? Are they serving God? Are they serving us? Are they serving others? Whoa -- the people in the collars and in the positions of authoriy and leadership do not have it easy -- because the motivations of their hearts are always being judged by people while being moved by God in Christ."
I appreciate her empathy but I'm challenged by her questions. As one of those "people in the collars," who am I serving? Is my biggest concern average Sunday attendance or is it proclaiming the gospel and making disciples? And if it's the latter, is it really possible to measure success?
Who are we serving? I believe the correct answer is Jesus . . . right?
I wonder what report he's looking for.
OK, they measure how many members a church has, how many people (on average) attend each Sunday, and how much money your congregation has.
And this data means . . . what exactly?
What it means most years is that the Episcopal Church is a declining church. I don't have any numbers since 2008, but assuming the trends have been followed in 2009 and 2010 we continue to be a shrinking church.
And yet to put it that way is to assume that our congregations are not vital, that we have no faith and are simply struggling to survive. I suspect this is true in more congregations than we want to admit, but I also know that many are vital in ways that aren't easily measured. And I'm willing to bet that the vital ones are focused more on Jesus than on parochial reports.
I'm a subscriber to a congregational development group on Yahoo. I will admit that a lot of days go by when I don't read the posts. But I opened the email today and was immediately challenged. A diocesan staff person in North Dakota had asked about what to do about tiny churches (really tiny, with 10 people coming on Sunday morning). Should they be closed? Should they try to change? I found the response from a woman in Wisconsin fascinating (I'm editing a bit to give some context and not quote the entire post).
"The struggle [is] trusting the leadership -- of members asking themselves and each other -- Who do those people in the collars want to serve, who are they going to serve? Are they serving themselves? Are they serving God? Are they serving us? Are they serving others? Whoa -- the people in the collars and in the positions of authoriy and leadership do not have it easy -- because the motivations of their hearts are always being judged by people while being moved by God in Christ."
I appreciate her empathy but I'm challenged by her questions. As one of those "people in the collars," who am I serving? Is my biggest concern average Sunday attendance or is it proclaiming the gospel and making disciples? And if it's the latter, is it really possible to measure success?
Who are we serving? I believe the correct answer is Jesus . . . right?
I wonder what report he's looking for.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Nurturing an Attitude of Hope
This past weekend I was in Fort Worth and Dallas to lead a seminar and a workshop, each of which focused on what it means to be "church" in the 21st century and how we might redefine our identity and purpose for this "postmodern" era in which we live.
During the workshop at the Episcopal Church of the Transfiguration in Dallas (which is a dynamic and faithful congregation!), I was speaking in the morning about the paradoxes of the culture in which we live. One paradox is that people today feel both empowered and powerless at the same time. We feel empowered because, even as individuals, technology allows us to reach out and influence the world in which we live in ways that we could not have imagined 10-15 years ago. We feel powerless because for all that we can do many of the challenges of our age seem unresolvable. For example, I can change all of the light bulbs in my house to be more energy efficient (thus feeling empowered), but global warming does not appear to be getting any better. In fact, it appears to be getting worse. This disconnect between my actions and the results can easily bring people to a place of despair.
During a break in the morning, a woman who is a member of Transfiguration challenged me on this point. She said, "But our actions do make a difference!" Well, of course, she's right. But the paradox I describe is also right. How can we both be right? Simply put, she is a faithful Christian who participates in a community that proclaims that our actions are a part of a larger purpose, a purpose which God will bring about, even if not in our time and even if we cannot see the results. What she was describing was the perspective of a person who belongs to a faith community. What I was describing is the attitude of someone who does not.
Her comment revealed an important truth about the power of a faith community to shape us. In the context of a community, our actions can lead us to an attitude of hope. Without a faith community, it is much easier to adopt an attitude of despair.
This morning I was reading an excerpt from an interview with Henri Nouwen from 1996. Nouwen said this:
"If you live with hope, you can live very much in the present because you can nurture the footprints of God in your hearts and life. You already have a sense of what is to come. And the whole of the spiritual life is saying that God is right with us, right now. So that we can wait for his coming, and this waiting is a waiting in hope. But because we wait with hope we know that what we are waiting for is already here. We have to nurture that. Here and now matters because God is a God of the present. And God is a God of the present because he is a God of eternity."
We have to nurture this. As a Christian people, as the Church, we need to nurture this attitude of hope so that the world does not fall into despair. We need to proclaim and invite people to participate with us in the world, not to strengthen our pledge base but to shine the light of Christ and nurture an attitude of hope.
Now, there's a sense of purpose!
During the workshop at the Episcopal Church of the Transfiguration in Dallas (which is a dynamic and faithful congregation!), I was speaking in the morning about the paradoxes of the culture in which we live. One paradox is that people today feel both empowered and powerless at the same time. We feel empowered because, even as individuals, technology allows us to reach out and influence the world in which we live in ways that we could not have imagined 10-15 years ago. We feel powerless because for all that we can do many of the challenges of our age seem unresolvable. For example, I can change all of the light bulbs in my house to be more energy efficient (thus feeling empowered), but global warming does not appear to be getting any better. In fact, it appears to be getting worse. This disconnect between my actions and the results can easily bring people to a place of despair.
During a break in the morning, a woman who is a member of Transfiguration challenged me on this point. She said, "But our actions do make a difference!" Well, of course, she's right. But the paradox I describe is also right. How can we both be right? Simply put, she is a faithful Christian who participates in a community that proclaims that our actions are a part of a larger purpose, a purpose which God will bring about, even if not in our time and even if we cannot see the results. What she was describing was the perspective of a person who belongs to a faith community. What I was describing is the attitude of someone who does not.
Her comment revealed an important truth about the power of a faith community to shape us. In the context of a community, our actions can lead us to an attitude of hope. Without a faith community, it is much easier to adopt an attitude of despair.
This morning I was reading an excerpt from an interview with Henri Nouwen from 1996. Nouwen said this:
"If you live with hope, you can live very much in the present because you can nurture the footprints of God in your hearts and life. You already have a sense of what is to come. And the whole of the spiritual life is saying that God is right with us, right now. So that we can wait for his coming, and this waiting is a waiting in hope. But because we wait with hope we know that what we are waiting for is already here. We have to nurture that. Here and now matters because God is a God of the present. And God is a God of the present because he is a God of eternity."
We have to nurture this. As a Christian people, as the Church, we need to nurture this attitude of hope so that the world does not fall into despair. We need to proclaim and invite people to participate with us in the world, not to strengthen our pledge base but to shine the light of Christ and nurture an attitude of hope.
Now, there's a sense of purpose!
Monday, March 15, 2010
On the Look Out for Flares
I just finished reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy (I have not seen the movie based on the novel). Set in a post-apocalyptic America, it is about as hopeless a story as I've ever read. The novel tells the story of a father and son trying desperately to survive, walking the road toward wherever it takes them, looking for the "good guys" who may be able to help them. At its heart, it is a story about people who are lost who seek a place to be safe and be known (I won't write anymore about the plot to avoid giving anything away).
While it is a dark story, I believe it is worth reading. Looking beyond the plot and the post-apocalyptic setting, McCarthy tells a story that resonates with the yearning of the early 21st century -- the yearning for relationship, for community, for belonging, for home. Perhaps, like the prodigal son in Jesus' parable (see the gospel of Luke, chapter 15), it is accurate to say that people today -- living a life often uprooted from family and close friends -- simply want to be found.
McCarthy articulates this desire -- this yearning -- in his story (The Road, page 245):
He loaded the flarepistol and as soon as it was dark they walked out down the beach away from the fire and he asked the boy if he wanted to shoot it.
You shoot it, Papa. You know how to do it.
Okay.
He cocked the gun and aimed it out over the bay and pulled the trigger. The flare arced up into the murk with a long whoosh and broke somewhere out over the water in a clouded light and hung there. The hot tendrils of magnesium drifted slowly down the dark and the pale foreshore tide started in the glare and slowly faded. He looked down at the boy's upturned face.
They couldn't see it very far, could they, Papa?
Who?
Anybody.
No. Not far.
If you wanted to show where you were.
You mean like to the good guys?
Yes. Or anybody that you wanted them to know where you were.
Like who?
I don't know.
Like God?
Yeah. Maybe somebody like that.
Reading that scene makes me wonder . . . How many people around us -- people we see every day at work, at school, in the neighborhood, at the store, and in our homes -- are sending up "flares" hoping that God or the good guys or "somebody like that" will see the flare and find them?
Isn't that a core job of the church? To notice? To see the "flares" that people send out?
Makes me think . . . I wonder if we've been so intent on getting our message out that we have not listened well enough to the yearning of the people who live right around us.
What might happen if we made it a task of the church to be on the look out for "flares"? How might we and the community we call the church be transformed, if we opened our eyes to the signals of those around us, the signals of those who yearn to be found?
Oh yes, once we've seen the "flares" it would be a good idea to reach out and invite the person who sent up the flare to come to church, to discover a faithful, Christian community in which all parts of the "Body of Christ" are cherished and respected. Even better, it would be a great idea to invite them into a relationship with Jesus.
Hmmmm . . . That may be the hardest part of all.
What do you think?
While it is a dark story, I believe it is worth reading. Looking beyond the plot and the post-apocalyptic setting, McCarthy tells a story that resonates with the yearning of the early 21st century -- the yearning for relationship, for community, for belonging, for home. Perhaps, like the prodigal son in Jesus' parable (see the gospel of Luke, chapter 15), it is accurate to say that people today -- living a life often uprooted from family and close friends -- simply want to be found.
McCarthy articulates this desire -- this yearning -- in his story (The Road, page 245):
He loaded the flarepistol and as soon as it was dark they walked out down the beach away from the fire and he asked the boy if he wanted to shoot it.
You shoot it, Papa. You know how to do it.
Okay.
He cocked the gun and aimed it out over the bay and pulled the trigger. The flare arced up into the murk with a long whoosh and broke somewhere out over the water in a clouded light and hung there. The hot tendrils of magnesium drifted slowly down the dark and the pale foreshore tide started in the glare and slowly faded. He looked down at the boy's upturned face.
They couldn't see it very far, could they, Papa?
Who?
Anybody.
No. Not far.
If you wanted to show where you were.
You mean like to the good guys?
Yes. Or anybody that you wanted them to know where you were.
Like who?
I don't know.
Like God?
Yeah. Maybe somebody like that.
Reading that scene makes me wonder . . . How many people around us -- people we see every day at work, at school, in the neighborhood, at the store, and in our homes -- are sending up "flares" hoping that God or the good guys or "somebody like that" will see the flare and find them?
Isn't that a core job of the church? To notice? To see the "flares" that people send out?
Makes me think . . . I wonder if we've been so intent on getting our message out that we have not listened well enough to the yearning of the people who live right around us.
What might happen if we made it a task of the church to be on the look out for "flares"? How might we and the community we call the church be transformed, if we opened our eyes to the signals of those around us, the signals of those who yearn to be found?
Oh yes, once we've seen the "flares" it would be a good idea to reach out and invite the person who sent up the flare to come to church, to discover a faithful, Christian community in which all parts of the "Body of Christ" are cherished and respected. Even better, it would be a great idea to invite them into a relationship with Jesus.
Hmmmm . . . That may be the hardest part of all.
What do you think?
Friday, September 19, 2008
Responding Faithfully in Difficult Economic Times
Earlier this week I attended a meeting of the Seacoast Convocation of the Diocese of New Hampshire. This is a regular meeting of lay and clergy representing the Episcopal congregations in the Seacoast region of the state.
The primary presentation was the 2009 diocesan budget. That subject, in and of itself, was not particularly relevant to most people, even those who are active Episcopalians in the diocese. The presentation, however, led to an interesting discussion about the state of the economy and how churches respond to this. As with all other institutions and organizations, the chaos on Wall Street, the crisis in home mortgages, the government bailouts, and the concern that things will get worse before they get better has a profound impact on how we plan for the coming year. Will investment income remain stable? Will the giving of our parishioners, which is how most congregations fund their ministries, decrease?
On the one hand, this is an institutional issue and really doesn't have much to do with the intersection of church and society. On the other hand, it has much to do with how Christians, and people of other religions, live faithfully in the world today.
Near the end of the discussion, one lay person made a telling and challenging remark (his intention wasn't to challenge the clergy, but any one who did not hear it as a challenge was not really listening). He said something along the lines of, "I'm looking forward to hearing sermons about the economy and the choices that we as Christians need to make. So many of our problems today are a result of greed. This is a preaching opportunity."
Ironically, it's not too often that clergy hear a plea for sermon topics. That probably has to do more with clergy not asking for input than it does with lay people not being willing to offer an opinion.
What is the preaching opportunity here? His comment about greed in our economic system clearly points to a characteristic of our nation that bothers many. The people who participate in the Seacoast Convocation and vast majority of those who attend our churches are not people making a lot of money from the stock market. Most are middle class people who work each day. Living on the Seacoast, most have been successful, but they look at the nation in which we live and they feel a deep anxiety. The stock market is crashing, investment banks are failing, the government, already deep in debt, is spending billions of dollars in an effort to stop a banking collapse that could bring us into a deep recession. News reports say that we are facing an economic downturn worse than any time since the Great Depression in the 1930s.
On top of that, gas prices are up, heating fuel is higher than ever, and food prices are increasing. As a person told me recently, "People are strapped and don't have any extra, if they even have enough to pay their bills."
So, preaching about greed doesn't necessarily seem appropriate. The people who attend my church are not greedy. They simply want enough money to live comfortably, pay the bills, and have a little extra for recreation and to save for retirement. They want their kids to go to college without accumulating a mountain of debt. They want to help people who are in greater need than they are.
Perhaps the preaching opportunity is to speak to the issue of responsibility. From my perspective, it seems that much of the crisis we live in today is brought about by the growing narcissism in our society. We see the money we earn as being only for ourselves. The resources at our disposal are for our own good. We seek to gain more "wealth" so that we can enjoy life more. We want our taxes to be lower so we can have more for ourselves.
But what about our responsibility to the common good? Do we not have a responsibility to those beyond ourselves? We are not truly independent people who live in a vacuum. We are interdependent. The choices that we make impact others beyond ourselves. If I choose to hold onto my resources for myself instead of sharing them with others, am I not contributing to the problems of today? If I choose to maximize my own treasure, if I choose to see what I have as only for myself, am I not being greedy? Greed does not require me to have a lot. It only requires that I seek to hold onto all I have for myself.
In the gospel Jesus calls us to be responsible for the common good, not our own good. The paradox is that when I take responsibility for the common good, I actually increase my own share of the good that is available for all.
In Luke 12:15-21 we read this parable told by Jesus:
And he said to them, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” 16Then he told them a parable: “The land of a rich man produced abundantly. 17And he thought to himself, ‘What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ 18Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. 19And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ 20But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ 21So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”
People of faith are not called to accumulate possessions. We are called to be "rich toward God." This does not mean that God intends all of us to be poor or to give away everything that we have. I interpret this to mean that we are called to take responsibility for God's creation, which most certainly includes the community that lives around us. Only the "fool" holds onto everything expecting that it is all for him or her. The wise and faithful person shares those possessions with society for the common good.
As the church intersects with an anxious society in challenging and troubling economic times, people of faith can set a different example from the greed that is at the heart of our current crisis. We can choose to look beyond our individual selves by taking responsibility for the needs of others.
That, it seems to me, is the preaching opportunity. What do you think?
The primary presentation was the 2009 diocesan budget. That subject, in and of itself, was not particularly relevant to most people, even those who are active Episcopalians in the diocese. The presentation, however, led to an interesting discussion about the state of the economy and how churches respond to this. As with all other institutions and organizations, the chaos on Wall Street, the crisis in home mortgages, the government bailouts, and the concern that things will get worse before they get better has a profound impact on how we plan for the coming year. Will investment income remain stable? Will the giving of our parishioners, which is how most congregations fund their ministries, decrease?
On the one hand, this is an institutional issue and really doesn't have much to do with the intersection of church and society. On the other hand, it has much to do with how Christians, and people of other religions, live faithfully in the world today.
Near the end of the discussion, one lay person made a telling and challenging remark (his intention wasn't to challenge the clergy, but any one who did not hear it as a challenge was not really listening). He said something along the lines of, "I'm looking forward to hearing sermons about the economy and the choices that we as Christians need to make. So many of our problems today are a result of greed. This is a preaching opportunity."
Ironically, it's not too often that clergy hear a plea for sermon topics. That probably has to do more with clergy not asking for input than it does with lay people not being willing to offer an opinion.
What is the preaching opportunity here? His comment about greed in our economic system clearly points to a characteristic of our nation that bothers many. The people who participate in the Seacoast Convocation and vast majority of those who attend our churches are not people making a lot of money from the stock market. Most are middle class people who work each day. Living on the Seacoast, most have been successful, but they look at the nation in which we live and they feel a deep anxiety. The stock market is crashing, investment banks are failing, the government, already deep in debt, is spending billions of dollars in an effort to stop a banking collapse that could bring us into a deep recession. News reports say that we are facing an economic downturn worse than any time since the Great Depression in the 1930s.
On top of that, gas prices are up, heating fuel is higher than ever, and food prices are increasing. As a person told me recently, "People are strapped and don't have any extra, if they even have enough to pay their bills."
So, preaching about greed doesn't necessarily seem appropriate. The people who attend my church are not greedy. They simply want enough money to live comfortably, pay the bills, and have a little extra for recreation and to save for retirement. They want their kids to go to college without accumulating a mountain of debt. They want to help people who are in greater need than they are.
Perhaps the preaching opportunity is to speak to the issue of responsibility. From my perspective, it seems that much of the crisis we live in today is brought about by the growing narcissism in our society. We see the money we earn as being only for ourselves. The resources at our disposal are for our own good. We seek to gain more "wealth" so that we can enjoy life more. We want our taxes to be lower so we can have more for ourselves.
But what about our responsibility to the common good? Do we not have a responsibility to those beyond ourselves? We are not truly independent people who live in a vacuum. We are interdependent. The choices that we make impact others beyond ourselves. If I choose to hold onto my resources for myself instead of sharing them with others, am I not contributing to the problems of today? If I choose to maximize my own treasure, if I choose to see what I have as only for myself, am I not being greedy? Greed does not require me to have a lot. It only requires that I seek to hold onto all I have for myself.
In the gospel Jesus calls us to be responsible for the common good, not our own good. The paradox is that when I take responsibility for the common good, I actually increase my own share of the good that is available for all.
In Luke 12:15-21 we read this parable told by Jesus:
And he said to them, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” 16Then he told them a parable: “The land of a rich man produced abundantly. 17And he thought to himself, ‘What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ 18Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. 19And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ 20But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ 21So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”
People of faith are not called to accumulate possessions. We are called to be "rich toward God." This does not mean that God intends all of us to be poor or to give away everything that we have. I interpret this to mean that we are called to take responsibility for God's creation, which most certainly includes the community that lives around us. Only the "fool" holds onto everything expecting that it is all for him or her. The wise and faithful person shares those possessions with society for the common good.
As the church intersects with an anxious society in challenging and troubling economic times, people of faith can set a different example from the greed that is at the heart of our current crisis. We can choose to look beyond our individual selves by taking responsibility for the needs of others.
That, it seems to me, is the preaching opportunity. What do you think?
Monday, September 8, 2008
Addressing Fear
As a church, how do we address the fears of our children and youth? This question comes to mind because of two items to which I was exposed this morning.
The first was an interview on Good Morning America with Thomas Friedman, author of The World is Flat. He was promoting his new book, Hot, Flat, and Crowded: Why We Need a Green Revolution -- And How it Can Renew America. I've not read the book yet, so I can only speak to the interview (to see the interview, go to http://abcnews.go.com/gma).
Looking at the convergence of increasing world population, a growing middle class in the developing world using more and more energy resources, and global warming, one of his primary points is that "we need to change leaders, not light bulbs." He is critical of both Obama and McCain in the interview, believing neither goes far enough in pushing us toward new and renewable forms of energy. His answer: innovation in the marketplace.
The second news item this morning was in the Op/Ed section of today's Boston Globe. In an opinion piece written by guest columnist Allegra Goodman, we hear a very different and personal perspective on global warming. She writes about her twelve-year old son's "fatalism" about global warming. Thinking about the upcoming election he said to his mother, "It doesn't really matter as much for you, because you'll be dead...but I'm going to have to live through global warming, and I'm afraid by the time I can vote, it will be too late." Goodman also mentions a conversation with a friend who tells her that "her son can't sleep because he is so anxious about global warming." (Read the full column, at ://www.boston.com/bostonglobe/editorial_opinion/oped/articles/2008/09/08/the_dark_dreams_of_global_warming/).
Her concern in the column is addressing her son's fear and anxiety. "What's a parent to do?" An excellent question and one that does not have an immediate answer. Having two teenage children, I can certainly empathize with her anxiety about her son's fear.
Expanding her question a bit: What's the church to do?
When I was growing up in the 1960s and 1970s we worried about the nuclear destruction. I was born in the midst of the Cuban missile crisis. I lived through the build up of nuclear arms and the increased "sophistication" of these weapons. Living outside of Washington, D.C., I remember sitting in a high school history class when the teacher said, "If we heard right now that missiles are on their way, there would be nothing for us to do but to go outside, sit in a circle, sing songs, and wait. We would not be able to get away."
What was my church's response to all of this? I don't remember one. The only image I have is of signs in the church leading to the basement that read, "Fallout Shelter." As if the basement of the church was going to save us.
Perhaps the leaders of the church had no response. Perhaps the response was simply, "Trust in Jesus. If we all die, at least we'll go to heaven."
That response does not seem particularly adequate to me. It certainly doesn't address the very present and real anxiety about the future of our planet and of the ultimate survival of both the diverse creatures who live here and of the human race. How might the church address the fear and anxiety of a twelve-year old boy whose world view is fatalistic and pessimistic?
Do we preach about heaven? Do we go to the Bible and read the stories of Jesus walking on the water in the midst of the storm and telling the disciples not to be afraid (see Mark 6:47-51)? Do we say, "Trust Jesus and all will be well"?
I don't deny the foundational truth here. I do trust Jesus and I do trust that, in God's time, all will be well. But to leave it at that feels as if we are addressing the fear and anxiety of children with platitudes instead of hope and with simplistic escapism instead of faithful seeking.
In the face of the fatalism produced by global warming, what's the church to do? It certainly isn't to focus on internal church rules and institutional survival. My only answer today is that we must make people of faith a part of the broader conversation. We cannot allow this to be addressed only by Thomas Friedman, political candidates, and environmentalists. If we take seriously the idea that God created us to be stewards of creation, then we must accept the responsibility of engaging the reality of global warming and living in a way today that sustains our home for the future.
Children living in fear need more than scientific, business, and political answers. They need what a spiritual perspective can provide: faith, hope, and possibility. They need action. They need engagement and participation. They need adults to wrestle with reality faithfully. Whether it's a change in leadership or a change in light bulbs, people of faith need to begin living as good stewards today.
The first was an interview on Good Morning America with Thomas Friedman, author of The World is Flat. He was promoting his new book, Hot, Flat, and Crowded: Why We Need a Green Revolution -- And How it Can Renew America. I've not read the book yet, so I can only speak to the interview (to see the interview, go to http://abcnews.go.com/gma).
Looking at the convergence of increasing world population, a growing middle class in the developing world using more and more energy resources, and global warming, one of his primary points is that "we need to change leaders, not light bulbs." He is critical of both Obama and McCain in the interview, believing neither goes far enough in pushing us toward new and renewable forms of energy. His answer: innovation in the marketplace.
The second news item this morning was in the Op/Ed section of today's Boston Globe. In an opinion piece written by guest columnist Allegra Goodman, we hear a very different and personal perspective on global warming. She writes about her twelve-year old son's "fatalism" about global warming. Thinking about the upcoming election he said to his mother, "It doesn't really matter as much for you, because you'll be dead...but I'm going to have to live through global warming, and I'm afraid by the time I can vote, it will be too late." Goodman also mentions a conversation with a friend who tells her that "her son can't sleep because he is so anxious about global warming." (Read the full column, at ://www.boston.com/bostonglobe/editorial_opinion/oped/articles/2008/09/08/the_dark_dreams_of_global_warming/).
Her concern in the column is addressing her son's fear and anxiety. "What's a parent to do?" An excellent question and one that does not have an immediate answer. Having two teenage children, I can certainly empathize with her anxiety about her son's fear.
Expanding her question a bit: What's the church to do?
When I was growing up in the 1960s and 1970s we worried about the nuclear destruction. I was born in the midst of the Cuban missile crisis. I lived through the build up of nuclear arms and the increased "sophistication" of these weapons. Living outside of Washington, D.C., I remember sitting in a high school history class when the teacher said, "If we heard right now that missiles are on their way, there would be nothing for us to do but to go outside, sit in a circle, sing songs, and wait. We would not be able to get away."
What was my church's response to all of this? I don't remember one. The only image I have is of signs in the church leading to the basement that read, "Fallout Shelter." As if the basement of the church was going to save us.
Perhaps the leaders of the church had no response. Perhaps the response was simply, "Trust in Jesus. If we all die, at least we'll go to heaven."
That response does not seem particularly adequate to me. It certainly doesn't address the very present and real anxiety about the future of our planet and of the ultimate survival of both the diverse creatures who live here and of the human race. How might the church address the fear and anxiety of a twelve-year old boy whose world view is fatalistic and pessimistic?
Do we preach about heaven? Do we go to the Bible and read the stories of Jesus walking on the water in the midst of the storm and telling the disciples not to be afraid (see Mark 6:47-51)? Do we say, "Trust Jesus and all will be well"?
I don't deny the foundational truth here. I do trust Jesus and I do trust that, in God's time, all will be well. But to leave it at that feels as if we are addressing the fear and anxiety of children with platitudes instead of hope and with simplistic escapism instead of faithful seeking.
In the face of the fatalism produced by global warming, what's the church to do? It certainly isn't to focus on internal church rules and institutional survival. My only answer today is that we must make people of faith a part of the broader conversation. We cannot allow this to be addressed only by Thomas Friedman, political candidates, and environmentalists. If we take seriously the idea that God created us to be stewards of creation, then we must accept the responsibility of engaging the reality of global warming and living in a way today that sustains our home for the future.
Children living in fear need more than scientific, business, and political answers. They need what a spiritual perspective can provide: faith, hope, and possibility. They need action. They need engagement and participation. They need adults to wrestle with reality faithfully. Whether it's a change in leadership or a change in light bulbs, people of faith need to begin living as good stewards today.
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