History Lesson

Well, I just finished the second draft of my sermon for Sunday. I’ll probably write one more before I print it out and start crossing out words and practicing my delivery (there are sound effects that I need to get just right). I’ll see if the dog and cat mind being my audience.

Part of my experimentation with this sermon is, besides preaching mostly on the Epistle and integrating my current school work into it, is to stretch myself a little bit. Rather than do what I usually do, grounding the lesson in its narrative context and then filtering through that context with contemporary images, I’m framing this sermon mostly as a history lesson. Of course, I like history, and I think any modern interpretation of history is, by its nature, filled with contemporary images. But I’m curious how it will go over with the congregation. I think some will like it but I’m not sure if enough will get the punch. And I wonder how appropriate for Lent it is.

One thing that I hope will help, however, is the Hymn of the Day. Rather than try to do what I usually do and pick a hymn that reinforces the message, I tried to use the sermon hymn as a continuation of my words. In a sense, the hymn isn’t (I hope) going to be merely a rehashing of the sermon but rather an integrated part to it. And with a replacement to the creed we’ve inserted into the bulletin this week, I’m hoping those three parts of the service will flow and reinforce each other. So, if someone took a step back, those sections would appear as a whole rather than just complementary sections. I have no idea if this will actually work, mind you, but I’m gonna give it a shot.

And, as an aside, I can see that I’m copying a certain preacher I know by starting with something funny and then moving on to seriousness. I hope that’s not copyrighted!

Why does Paul say Greeks rather than Romans?

You would think, with me being on Spring Break, I would have started working on my sermon for Sunday before now. Sure, the hymns are picked, and the service is organized, and all that, but when it comes to words on the page, I’ve got nothing. I did, however, decide to focus on the Corinthians text for the day rather than the Gospel or the OT reading. All are great texts and all are, in some way, rah-rah-Christianity/God/Jesus texts. We have the ten commandments (which are great), and then we have Paul saying the cross is foolish (which is also great) and then we end with Jesus throwing the money changers out of the temple, Rambo style. So, halfway through Lent, the readings seem, to be very “go-get-em!” or “yay team” in nature. Maybe they were specifically chosen because we are halfway through Lent and the crafters of the lectionary thought we might need some pats on the back as we go into the home stretch with our Lenten disciplines.

I’ve decided to focus on the Corinthians text (1 Cor 1:18-25) mostly because of what I’m doing in school right now. With two courses covering Corinthians through historical-critical, queer, feminist, post-colonial, liberation, and other lenses, I’ve been wondering how to take what I’m learning and actually proclaim something. How can I utilize those frameworks to actually strengthen my proclamation of the gospel? It’s possible that I’m going to fall flat on my face trying to do this on Sunday (and if I do, I’ll have 30 minutes between services to re-write it) but I’m gonna give it a shot and see what comes out. And right now, I seem stuck on why Paul juxtaposes Greeks and Jews rather than Romans and Jews, Romans and Greeks, etc.

I mean, Paul was writing to a small community located in the town of Corinth (a little ol’ town near the sea shore). Although it is a Grecian city, it was a city that was destroyed and only recently re-populated by Roman soldiers around 40 B.C.E. It was developed, designed, and built as a colony of Rome, filled with images that perpetuated Imperial Rome’s power, authority, and domination over others. Mixed into this imagery of Roman Imperial power was also the fact that Corinth was a diverse city of traders and merchants. Large numbers of temples from all over the known world were there. Ships would drop off their wares, merchants from a million different places would buy them, and all of this would have taken place under the watchful eyes of Rome. Although Corinth was in Greece, it wasn’t necessarily a Grecian city.

And if that’s the case, then who would Paul’s community recognize as “the Jews” and “the Greeks?” There’s no evidence that there was a Jewish community located in Corinth and, based on the rest of the letter, I’m not sure that Corinth was a mixed community in terms of Jewish and Gentile. Would Paul, then, be their only image of what a Jewish person was like? Or would there be a stereotype that the community would have understood (just like Greek was a stereotype as well)?

I get that Paul is downplaying wisdom here, a rhetoric ploy to actually help reign in some of the groups that he protests against later in the letter. Yet, in this one little bit of text, Paul is busy talking about strength, power, and might. But he does not seem to lay into the image of power that was all around him – the power of Rome. And, from the perspective of Imperial Rome, both the Jews and the Greeks are, to some degree, the same: they are both conquered people. Both groups will have rebellions, both groups will have people sent off into slavery, and both will be saturated by Roman Imperialism. The Greeks might be full of wisdom but they were not Rome. They weren’t THAT powerful. There wisdom might have developed philosophies that covered the known world but, in the nuts and bolts of life, it was Rome that won. They embraced Grecian thought but the wisdom of the world rested in their military, economic, and technological might. If the Jews want signs and the Greeks desire wisdom, what does Rome want? What do all the peoples conquered by Rome want? Why this dichotomy and not something else? Why not talk about the real, visible power that the Corinthians would have lived in? In a Roman colony, why point out the Greeks?

A Static Flavored Kind of Kool Aid Love

During Lent, I’m leading a small study of the Augsburg Confession. It takes place at a lovely apartment on Monday nights in a fantastic apartment looking down on Harlem (making me, inside, not-so-secretly jealous) and we’ve had a great group of participants. In our first week, I set out the historical context for the document and then we dived straight into Article II and IV. Yesterday, we continued with Article III and V. The great thing about this group is how open they are. Groups have personalities above and beyond just the individuals inside it and this group has a great personalities. Opinions, thoughts, concerns, questions, all can be shared in this little safe space. We have lifelong Lutherans, Missouri Synod confirmation kids, pastors, theologians, and even the-about-to-be-baptized, enjoying popcorn together and digging into a 500 year old piece document. It’s really great.

All day, I’ve been thinking about some of the things that were said last night – specifically about the idea of God meeting us/loving us where we are at. It was raised specifically in regard to the concept of Christ as satisfaction for our sins – i.e. Article III and IV to some degree – and I’ve been a tad stuck on it all day. I think what bugs me about that phrase is, at least to me, it just sounds so…static; time-sensititve; historical, momentary. I think, in a lot of ways, I project into that statement a time boundary. My next question is, always, what about next week? Or tomorrow? Or next month? If I’m a dynamic individual, who changes, then what does that phrase “God loving us where we are at” mean? I think an easy way is to merely expand what “at” means – God loves me at this point, and at this point, and at this point. But, in a lot of ways, that makes God a static character. Or, at least, God becomes a static character in God’s relationship to me. I think what really bothers me about that phrase (a phrase I’ll admit that I’ve used all the time) is that it loses the “for you” aspect of Lutheran Christian theology. Without the “for you” being explicit, laid out in concrete terms, I can easily not include myself in that theological phrase of what God does. Maybe, as Luther would say, that’s the old creature in me, trying to figure out how I can, through my own mad skillz, include myself in the sphere of God’s love. But when that phrase is changed, when Christ is made explicit, when the “for you” gets said and done to the point where I can’t even exclude myself out of that relationship…where it’s all a gift? That does it. It’s something I can’t fight even though I do all the time. And, in my mind, it lets God be dynamic, expansive, bigger than me, and I actually feel like, oh hey, God actually cares about me. It’s less “it’s not all up to me” and more “God made it not up to me.” That, that I can get behind. At that point, the phrase actually does something to me. Something happens; an action takes place; things move. Otherwise, I feel like I’m allowed to draw my own boundaries and, if that’s true, why do I get up so early every Sunday?

Well, at least the Sunday School kids think I’m tall

Today, my field education experience was a little…uh..full. With two pastoral associates out of town and the CYF director enjoying the beach, it was just little ol’me and the senior pastor manning the battlements. It was kind of wild. Altar guild, Sunday School, CYF management, Children’s Church, Tech Support, Chalice Bearing, Manager, Safe-breaker – I did it all (or tried to at least). I basically didn’t stop for a few moments and, well, I’m not sure I actually worshiped today. Luckily, the sacraments came to me anyways.

During Sunday School, I corralled my posse around a kid-sized (i.e. Marc-sized) table. Our agenda consisted of five different action items and, well, we got through two. Today we shared the story of building a house on a rock (Spark Bible Style) and played that game where you draw lines to form squares. We split into two teams, three girls on one and two boys on the other. The girls chose the color purple for their team which allowed the guys to be pink. And I must give them credit, those boys OWNED that color. They didn’t bat an eye! I’m proud of those two. However, one of the girls didn’t think that it was fair that there were more girls than boys. She announced, loudly and with authority, that I should play on the boys side because “You’re just a kid anyways – just taller and older looking.”

I’ll take it.

Howard S. Anders, MD – You Are On Notice (1900s style)

On Friday, I wandered down to the Burke Library at Union Theological Seminary to do some research on the individual communion cup issue at the turn of the last century. I hoped to discover a massive display of minutes from the conventions of various Lutheran synods but I found their pickings to be very small. I flipped through probably a dozen, spanning the years from 1866 to 1924, and found very little pertaining to the controversy. The library was missing many of the critical pieces that I was hoping to find and look through. The only tidbits I noticed involved a couple of fights pertaining to the adoption of the Common Service for Worship (though whether how communion was done mattered in that, I don’t know), a 20 point theological agreement between the a couple of synods written in 1902 by the guy who wrote an article against the individual communion glasses in 1903, and the fact that the PA ministerium in 1923 had a committee called “Advisory to Congregations Contemplating Change in Method of Administering the Lord’s Supper” (which gave no report that year) and, in 1924, that said committee no longer existed (nor was there reference to why it went away). After those little “discoveries,” I felt like I had wasted a lot of my time. I left the tomb of books, sat down at a computer terminal, and went through some of the electronic databases that Union has access to. I pulled about a dozen articles, most of them from the Journal of the American Medical Association and the British Lancet. This afternoon, I sat down to read and digest them and, it was then, that I met Mr. Howard S. Anders, M.D.

Dr. Anders really enjoyed the individual cup. He gathered research, spoke at medical conferences, and did all he could to propagate the concept of the individual communion cup. And his language was fightin’ words for those of us influenced by the later liturgical renewal movements. He was one of the first to do a before and after study of the common cup, found some bacteria, and claimed that you could get cancer from sharing the common cup. Even though he admitted that no one would probably be able to show that a disease was passed via the common cup, he argued from silence that IT COULD HAPPEN and, thus, the churches should stop using them. He also argued, quite often, about how gross the common cup could be because of mustaches, cigarette smells, and people with bad teeth. He did what he could to make it sound like even looking at the common cup might give you an STD. Yet, even though he was a doctor and tried to claim objectivity, I noticed that his theology heavily influenced his view of how the Lord’s Supper should be administered. He spoke, quite often, about it’s symbolic nature and, well, stuck by his baptist background, and he adamantly pish poshed any idea of unity or oneness from using the common cup. He also said that churches who do this will have an increased number of communicants because of the appearance of cleanliness and that the church services would go faster! For some overworked clergy, I bet that sounded like a good idea.

If Dr. Anders’ data is to be believed, the first church to use individual glasses was in Maine in late 1893. But the most serious scientific and systematic attempt took place in early 1894 in Rochester NY (a trial run at a congregation with 260 members followed by the main event – Central Presbyterian with 1600). Six months later, the shenanigans moved to NYC at Bedford Avenue Baptist Church in Brooklyn. At the American Medical Association conference in Philadelphia in 1897, Dr. Anders claimed that 224 congregations (including 5 Lutheran!) were using individual communion cups. In a letter to the editors of the The Lancet in late 1900, Dr. Anders claimed nearly 800 congregations were using the shot glasses. By 1902, the number was now 1500, with approx 7% being Lutheran. Dr. Anders, in that last report, ended his letter with the following:

It is extremely rare that any antagonistic official action is taken by ostensibly representative ecclesiastic bodies, the matter usually being left to each local church to investigate and decide. The only opposition that has come to my notice for many years was lately that of the Lutheran ministerium meeting at Easton, Pa., at which its action of 1895 was reaffirmed, condemning the use of individual cups, apparently for dogmatic and ritualistic, certainly not for cleanly or sanitary reasons.
“The Prevalence of the Individual Communion Cup,” J. Am. Med. Assoc. Vol 38 (24), 1586.

So there’s the Lutheran connection! And, according to Dr. Anders, its action was rather abnormal. I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere now.

I’m feel pretty, o so pretty

Last night, K and I, after watching a riveting junior olympics gymnastic championship at Madison Square Garden, met up with seminary friends at Marie’s Crisis. My favorite part of the evening was, right before we left, I noticed two young women moving in to have a conversation with us. I don’t know exactly what was said but I did happen to see the look on their faces when they discovered they were talking to a group of soon-to-be priests. (Look 1 was a polite huh?). Gay soon-to-be priests. (Look 2 was a tad more confused). And Episcopalians. (Look 3 was priceless as I think, I THINK, that’s what threw them off the most).

I have a feeling that if they discovered there was a married Lutheran right next to them, their minds would have been completely blown.

Election Predictions

Two days ago, at lunch I sat with a group of my fellow classmates in the refectory. We chatted, joked, gossiped, and did everything that people expect Seminarians to do (we even freaked out the folks using our conference center when we sung grace). Near the end of lunch, a distinguished professor, a giant in his field, came and joined us. He seemed to know me even though I have yet to take any of his classes. The conversation began with pleasantries but soon moved to heavier topics. Pretty soon, we were guessing who would be the next presiding bishop of the Episcopal church. As I cannot name ONE current bishop of their church, I kept my mouth shut. I did learn, however, that the current presiding bishop will be serving a 9 year term (nine!) and there was even talk, amongst our group of eight, on how to make her an archbishop (we all voted and said she should be one). I sat there, enjoying my coffee and cookies, and when the conversation moved to the ELCA (because they are thoughtful and wanted to include me), I threw in my two cents and even proposed a candidate for the next bishop of the Metro-New York Synod. I felt very distinguished and informed. Back pats for everyone.

When I was done, my young friend who was sitting next to me leaned over and informed me that she really wasn’t that interested in the conversation. Instead, she was care more about who would win The Bachelor. As I am also currently engrossed in it (what can I say – Courtney is my favorite and Ben is pretty terrible), we then proceeded to talk about it, loudly. In a matter of moments, the entire table stopped talking and turned to listen to what we said. Even the distinguished professor chimed in (though he admitted not knowing what the show was). I think I have finally discovered how, in the future, to derail any future discussion during an assembly of clergy: just bring up bad reality tv.