The UMC and the Challenge of Unity

The branches and leaves in this tree are not unlike the many
branches and denominations of Christianity.

The recent struggles in the United Methodist Church (UMC) over LGBT inclusion raise perennial questions for me:

What does it mean to be “church”? Is there a certain level of agreement that is necessary? Or is fellowship, work and worship with people of diverse viewpoints part and parcel of the necessary work that needs to be done? 

But even so, aren't there hard limits? Deal breakers?

I come from the Roman Catholic (RCC) tradition. If you expect this 2,000 year old, global behemoth of as many as 1 billion people to perfectly represent your own private, individual viewpoints as of February, 2019, you are in for some pretty quick disappointment. I have not yet met a single person who is perfectly on board with every teaching. Nevertheless, you just can't put your life on hold just because the RCC doesn't change. That doesn't stop conservatives, liberals and everyone in between from complaining, however.

The fact that this body changes very slowly is one of its strengths--and some would argue one of its weaknesses. The RCC can quickly remind you that it’s not all about you. This can be a good thing--and a bad thing. You have a choice as a Catholic: You can give up because the church is not the way you want it to be (i.e. made in your image) or you can roll up your sleeves and get to work right here and right now. Bloom where you're planted. It will never be perfectly as you want it, and perhaps it shouldn't be. It forces you out of your self-contained universe. Even if it were to eventually change to suit you better, there is a lot of life to be lived and a lot of work to be done right now.

I'm reminded of that song lyric: "Don't surround yourself with yourself." Good advice.

Many Catholics sit with it this way: They have small body of relatively like-minded people they associate with—perhaps their school, missionary society, charitable works organization or friends and fellowship group they lean on for mutual support. But they also belong to this wider body of the whole Catholic Church. They keep at the very least their toe dipped into the larger pool while also finding that smaller group of people with whom they see eye-to-eye on most things. You end up with the peace activist sitting next to the military general at Mass on Sundays, and on Mondays they go to work against each other again. 

I'm reminded of James Joyce who said of Catholics: "Here comes everybody." Is that a strength or a weakness? Yes.

When you come to a fork in the road such as what the UMC is experiencing right now over LGBT inclusion, it is easy to justify a divorce. The pain is real. The differences in opinion are real, too. But when I look back over the 500 years of Protestantism, I wonder if all that splitting and re-splitting has gotten them anywhere. Some estimate that there are as many as 50,000 denominations! Perhaps divorce is not always the answer. Were all these breaks necessary as people simply ran out of options to stay together? Or were they the result of people who got lazy and didn’t want to be uncomfortable and learn how to sit with real differences? And where are they going with all this fracturing--is there an end game to it all? Are any of these new denominations any better than the previous ones, or are they just re-living the same ole sins and human tendencies in a new form?

Will it just keep fracturing until every single individual is his or her own "denomination"? I say this quite seriously that it may not be a bad thing to simply play out that logic to its inevitable conclusion in this way. After all, each individual already has his or her own theology regardless of which denomination they belong to. Maybe it will help Christianity arrive at a post-denominational point. We'll still need community but maybe not in the way we've been doing it, and this experiment has to play itself out this way to help us get there.

This is not to judge or begrudge anyone who feels their experiences in a particular church community are simply too painful, or the issues too serious, for them to remain. I can't weigh in on someone else's decision. People have experienced very deep wounds and abuses of all kinds, and I do not intend to make light of those in the least. "Unity" has often been used as a justification for sweeping all sorts of misbehavior and injustices under the rug while blaming the very people who are so hurt they feel forced to break away.

After all, what good is unity if you end up supporting a morality that you simply cannot condone? But on the flip side, community is fundamental to a Christian. Learning how to congregate is part of discipleship. Among may other things, it forces us to come to terms with our triggers and internal challenges, to ultimately see a world bigger than ourselves.

I know all too well the struggle and the tough choices that struggle demands. For long periods in my life, I have toggled on the razor's edge between staying or leaving my church. I debated this with myself on an almost daily basis. I was even convinced for a while that living with that tension must actually be our call rather than resolving it either way. All this to say: I get it. 

Community is unquestionably hard. Finding that gospel ideal of perfect unity in perfect diversity is an ever-elusive challenge. I've only experienced it myself in fleeting moments throughout my life. Some communities lean on the side of denying the individual for the sake of conformity. Others celebrate the individual at the expense of the group.

The fracturing of Protestantism has created smaller denominations with oftentimes like-minded people who could perhaps go further in their particular mission than they ever could if they remained within the larger parent group. Some found a safe haven after leaving a painful situation. But there's a cost that comes with that fracturing--the cost of unity and the cost of not practicing how to sit with real diversity (again, not to minimize the real efforts that people have gone through in order to prevent divisions).

People in the UMC are in pain and some are talking schism. It's painful to talk schism. Not to sound glib, but what's one more split in a long history of splintering?  After all, the UMC exists as a result of schism in the first place. Another way to look at it:  If a split in the UMC seems painful today, perhaps that can remind us how painful previous splits must have been (and perhaps still are) and awake in us a desire to mend those fences from previous splits.

Does it matter that there are others out there who call themselves "Christian" who have nothing to do with your particular group? As we ponder a potentially very painful split in the UMC, perhaps it can help us think about all the splits that have occurred in Christianity and ignite in us a desire to heal those wounds, too.

First Comes Gratitude, Second Comes Discipleship

There is something fundamentally antithetical between a God who loves and accepts us all unconditionally and a church culture that pushes us to belong, behave, conform and suppress ourselves.

"For God so loved the world...."
— John 3:16

Those words from the Gospel of John echo throughout Christian history. They are repeated like a mantra by many. They are some of the most famous words from Scripture.

There is good reason for this: All of life is a gift. All that God has done is a gift. Everything God does has been done out of love. God loved the world into existence and continues to love it through its redemption and sanctification.

Preachers love to preach John 3:16. It would be wonderful if more were preaching this message with—and this is the most important part—no strings attached.  Because—by definition—that's what a gift is.

By definition.

Our proper response to a gift, then, is gratitude.

Gratitude is, perhaps, the only appropriate first response.

We tend to forget that. Let's face it, traditional Christianity (any of the main denominations) does not have a reputation for being accepting of God's gifts at face value. If you mention Christianity to anyone on the street, probably one of the first items to pop into their mind would be the "rules" and the "control."

Just to give an example, I saw a pastor the other day in the grocery story. He's a nice guy and my family has been to his church. But I avoided him when I saw him. Why?  Because I wasn't in the mood for dealing with the "push." You know what I'm talking about:  Little hints and jabs about how he hasn't seen us at his church, the implication that we should be there and other pressures to join his congregation and augment his numbers.

The thoughts that comes to my mind are: "Can't you just accept me as I am right now—without trying to push for a change in my behavior before you even know me? I'm good as I am—get to know me right here, right now, as I am. For God so loves me this way . . . why can't you?"

He's a nice guy, but I recognize the mini-colonizer in his actions. I realize he wants company in his church, and I realize he wants money in his collection plates. But the paradox is he might get more of both if he quit trying so hard. There's nothing wrong with an open invitation . . . if it is truly open. But when I start feeling peddled like a hot piece in a meat market, I instantly recognize the stink and get away. I think:  You don't want me in my full dignity.

What I really hear many preachers saying is:  Be different. Do more of this. Do less of that. Give more. Bend more. Think this way. Act that way. Come to my church. Give to the collection. Be a facsimile of me. Alter your life according to my specifications.

I get it:  There are obligations, responsibilities and commitments as part of Christian discipleship. And it is the duty of a preacher to challenge us. But Christianity has a long track record of frontloading those factors and downplaying something much more foundational: Gratitude. Acceptance. Love. That is, after all, the Good News!

God so loves the world. We are okay. I'm okay. You're okay. Let's start there.

Just as we are.

We can let that just be.

And then perhaps we may be so overcome with joy at this gift that we want to gift it to others—to pay it forward.

That's actually why the collection plate has been traditionally passed on Sunday since the time of the early Church. Sunday is the day of rest and gratitude. Once we have had space to reflect on all that we have been given, it is only natural to want to give to others. My cup runneth over (Psalm 23). 

All Christian charity and all Christian discipleship comes out of that gratitude: Because I have been so loved, therefore I want to love others out of nothing but sheer gratitude. We as church should never attempt to force that—we have to simply trust in that. Trust that loving and accepting others is primarily we need to do and we need not worry on how much of that comes back to us in the collection plate. That's God's business, not ours to try to control.

And then once we get that, once we are more solidly rooted in that gratitude, then and only then does it make sense to talk about obligations and responsibilities. Then, and only then, should we talk about the yoke of discipleship. Otherwise, it's just peddling a kind of works-based righteousness and a denial of the goodness of God's gifts. After all, if we want people to come to our churches, we should first give them a reason for coming before demanding membership dues.

This is why, I believe, Jesus told us the greatest commandment is to love one another—up to and including even our enemies, everyone in our community and everyone in between. Love is the most primary act we should be making and our primary stance in every situation. It is the greatest commandment for a reason. Once we begin there, then and only then can we talk about the messiness of life, the hard decisions and perhaps even some tough love exclusions. But we should only do that if we are loving first and foremost, as Jesus instructed. We are to love first and foremost and then pepper in the rules and obligations as they fit—not the other way around.

We are to love first and foremost. Because, after all, that's what God does.

There are some, of course, who have discovered the love of God the other way: Through the yoke of discipleship they have found the love that was guiding them from behind. I respect that it may work that way for some, but it's a very clumsy method that perhaps alienates many more than it converts. The reason, I believe, is because it's hard to teach love and acceptance through disciplines that fundamentally do not love or respect the natural created dignity of each person. In that scenario, people discover God in spite of religion, not because of it.

From Birmingham Jail, MLK's Challenge to Us Today

Martin Luther King Jr's Letter from Birmingham Jail is often touted as a defining milestone in the Civil Rights Movement. Indeed, it is a stunning portrait of the human spirit. MLK is literally behind bars, yet writing with a spirit of freedom and vision unknown to many of his contemporaries. He wrote with the kind of boldness reminiscent of the Apostle Paul, who also knew something about writing of freedom while behind prison walls.

I had the great privilege to visit the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute in Birmingham, AL, just a couple weeks ago. I urge anyone who can go to take the time to visit. Contained inside are the actual prison doors of the cell in which MLK wrote his infamous letter. There also on the wall hangs the reason for the letter--if you are unfamiliar with its history, you might think the impetus for the letter was probably some rantings by the KKK or other segregationists. Instead, it was a letter from lukewarm, moderate white church leaders, most of whom were probably somewhat sympathetic to the issues of the Civil Rights Movement. Those church leaders basically told MLK to calm down and relax. He was pushing too hard as an "outsider," they said. The methods of nonviolent civil disobedience were too disruptive. They argued he should work for change more slowly and accept what isn't perfect in the meantime.

You can find a copy and transcript of the letter here. It stings to read it. And for good reason. I cringed when I saw a Catholic bishop (my own denomination) as one of the signers. There were Protestant, Catholic and Jewish signers.

It took me a while to find this letter online. Either my internet research skills are lacking or else there aren't many traces of it to be found. The latter is understandable. Who wants to be reminded of being on the wrong side of history?  It was MLK who penned the masterpiece--that's something to celebrate. He was the hero who faced incredible adversity to lead one of the most stunning movements for change the world had ever seen. Who wants to be known as the group that tried to discourage one of history's greatest leaders during a time when he needed support the most?  It's not exactly something to put on one's resume.

But before we are quick to judge the lackluster faith and disappointing hesitation of the white church leaders, we must realize this is a perennial issue. This was not a unique circumstance that was only seen in 1963 Birmingham. Today, right now, there are people in my community, my church, my family and my world who tell us to slow down in our pursuit of justice and peace. They tell us not to make too many waves. They tell us that true progress happens gradually. And sometimes they are right. But the problem is that if we waited for these voices to give us the green light and tell us "now is the time for action," odds are that time would never come. In many circumstances, on many issues, there is never a moment when change is easy and comfortable. Sometimes being told to slow down is nothing but an excuse to stall indefinitely, and I sincerely wonder if those folks who say it really want change at all.

The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.

 -Martin Luther King Jr.

The following are four areas of great moral importance in the U.S. demanding immediate action where we are often told the same things those eight pastors told MLK:  Slow down. Work for gradual change. Accept it if solutions are not "perfect." There are other issues in addition to these.

Racism. Despite the gains of the Civil Rights Movement, racism is a clear and ever-present reality in the U.S. to this day. It results in black bodies lying dead in the streets, in mass incarceration, in denial of opportunities and systemic poverty. We need change and we need it now! Yet, people tell Black Lives Matter and other activists the same things that these moderates told MLK--slow down, your methods are too disruptive.

Healthcare. The U.S. spends twice as much as any other nation per person on healthcare but ends up ranking only #37 in the world by the World Health Organization. Millions have no access to the system and many thousands have lost their lives or have gone into bankruptcy trying to pay medical bills.

The math is simple: We pay more. We get less. No corporation could survive for long with that business plan, yet this is how we as a people fund our healthcare. It seems hard to believe that anyone could deny these obvious facts, but millions of dollars of insurance money and hard lobbying have done what they were intended to do: They have created fear and warped perceptions. They have convinced many of us that "it can't be done," even though nearly every other developed nation on earth has figured out how to do better for less.

So where is the leadership to change this? All we hear is "Now is not the time." "Don't push too hard." "Change happens gradually." You might think we hear that from conservatives who are against universal healthcare, but those statements are often coming from left-leaning political leadership. A lot of people give those Democrats the benefit of the doubt and assume they are doing all that can be done for healthcare at the moment. However, given the incredible expenditures on healthcare lobbying, you have to start wondering if these moderates have any real intention of changing our healthcare system at all. You have to speak your vision and name your goals out loud before you can achieve them.

Climate Change. Scientists are clear that there is a very 12 year window for the human race to avoid catastrophic climate change. Yet, even the most aggressive proposals to reduce carbon emissions seem to fall far short. Case in point: Germany recently announced it would phase out all coal powered plants in 20 years. We may not need completely eliminate all fossil fuel consumption to meet our climate goals, but it is disheartening when we are told "it can't be done any quick." Why not?  Of course it can. Other places are moving quicker than we are. How can they do it and not us?

Immigration. People say, "just do it legally!" However, there are also forces in play making legal immigration more difficult to achieve for select groups. It is virtually impossible for some people. Desperate people simply cannot wait for laws to change, especially when there seems little chance of that change happening anytime soon. There are families that would never see their loved ones if they waited until every document was in order before crossing. Instead of telling immigrants to wait, perhaps we should be taking decisive action to solve our immigration fiasco which does not respect human dignity. It only creates a vulnerable population who can be easily exploited for cheap labor.

Conclusion

Every reasonable person knows that change does indeed take time and there may be some strategic compromises along the way, at least temporarily. But real leaders come right out and state their vision. They name their goals. They point the way to where they want to go. They weather the resistance along the way. You don't have to guess where they really stand. Ultimately, we have to decide if our actions are more like Martin Luther King Jr.--who we like to idolize--or whether they are more like the eight white moderate clergymen who urged MLK to "show restraint."

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

-Martin Luther King Jr.

Social Justice, the Good Samaritan and Outsourcing Charity

A portrait of personal involvement.

The Good Samaritan by William Henry Margetson (cropped)

One of the most common arguments I hear against "social justice" is this:

Many Christians believe the Gospel calls us to get personally involved in doing charity. They argue that we shouldn't work to improve economic and political systems because that would be outsourcing our Christian responsibilities to a third party, such as the government. For example, they would say Jesus calls us to personally feed the hungry (Matthew 25:31-46), not to pay taxes so that the government can do that for us.

The story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) shows why this is false.

As you know from the story, Jesus himself holds up the Good Samaritan as a model of a "good neighbor." The Good Samaritan helped the injured man he found on the side of the road. Indeed, he took personal responsibility to provide personal care for this man. No question about it.

The Samaritan "took pity," so he was emotionally involved. He provided immediate triage of the man's wounds using his own wine and oils.  He helped transport him using his own donkey.

But that wasn't all he did.

Remember that the Good Samaritan was a busy man who was in the middle of some business of his own. What did he do?  He paid an innkeeper to take care of this man during a period of time when the Samaritan could not be there himself. However, he promised to watch over this process and to return to make sure this work had been done to his specifications.

Jesus does call each of us to be personally involved, no question about that. Christian charity as Christ describes it is not the kind where we simply write a check and forget about it. Rather, we are to get viscerally involved on every level of our being. The parable tell us that there are many ways in which to do that.

The Good Samaritan continued to be personally involved even when he solicited the help of another person in this work. The Good Samaritan was wise to involve the innkeeper who had the time and skills to provide what he couldn't. However, the Good Samaritan didn't "check out" by writing a check.  Rather, he continued to be very much involved.

The Role of the Government

Many people misunderstand the role of governments in this way. They consider the government to be the "nanny state" which has taken our personal involvement away from us. Therefore they believe it is "more Christian" to do things on our own rather than involve the government. However, that is not a fair understanding of the government. Yes, we are indeed called to be personally responsible and be our brother's keeper. Just like the Good Samaritan, people may choose to exercise their personal responsibility by working together as a collective group or by hiring experts at strategic points. They stay attentive to the process to make sure the work gets done. An active, engaged citizen in a democracy has in no way diminished her level of personal responsibility to the "nanny state." She's going to personally elect representatives and then watch over them like a hawk to make sure they do the job they were elected to do.

I have never seen any moral difference between helping others as individuals, as a family, as a church community or as a whole society using the resources of the government. The only difference is the scale--and that is the point.  The government has a reach that no other organization has.  It is simply the best tool for some jobs. To not use that tool would be irresponsible if that tool were the best one to get the job done.

For example, if my neighbor falls off his roof, I will personally make sure he gets medical care.  However, I will not be the one providing that care. Instead, I will take him to the hospital. I am definitely personally involved, but I am not going to directly attempt to provide medical care--that would be dangerous since I don't have medical training. But I CAN be an advocate and make sure he gets to the hospital and gets the right people working on him. As you can see, there are times when involving others who have more skills than ourselves may be the more responsible--and yes, more Christian--thing to do than simply doing it ourselves.

That's what the Good Samaritan did. Because he didn't have the time, skills or resources (or a combination of all of these), he chose to involve the innkeeper. And remember:  Jesus holds up the Good Samaritan as a model of a good neighbor.

Likewise, when we work together with our fellow citizens to solve a problem together as a whole group rather than as isolated individuals, it may not simply be an option, it may actually be the most responsible thing to do from a Christian standpoint.

Why We Don't Say 'Illegals'

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

Exodus 20:16

Imagine:  You are walking in a parking lot on a hot, summer day. You notice a baby in distress inside a locked car. There are no other adults around, including the child's parents.

What do you do? Without question: You break into the car to save the baby. 

Would it be fair if people called you a “criminal” for “breaking into a car”? No, that would be woefully unfair. You are saving a baby’s life, not criminalizing a car—even though, in a very limited, technical sense, someone could rightfully point that out you did indeed break into a car without permission. 

However, we all know that it would be misleading to be labelled as a “criminal carjacker” for the rest of your life for this effort to save the life of a baby. It would be far more likely that people would refer to you as a "hero."They would describe your actions as "saving a baby's life" not "breaking into a car." People would mention breaking into the car only in passing to describe how it happened. They would not use that action to label who you are.

In much the same way, undocumented immigrants should not be called “illegals” nor should asylum seekers be said to be “sneaking in.” These terms paint a misleading picture—no doubt to discredit and reduce sympathy for these people. However, spreading a misleading testimony about others is a violation of one of the 10 Commandments.

An asylum seeker can legally enter the U.S. without papers and then apply for asylum. Some may indeed enter on their own (i.e. "sneak in") while they are in the process of requesting asylum. However, it would be a false witness to label them as "sneaking in." It would be far more accurate to describe them—and their actions—as "seeking asylum." That is the more fair and honest witness of our neighbors' actions. While they are in the long process of seeking asylum, one of their actions may be to "sneak in" but it would be misleading to take that one minor instance to label the whole person.

To say that some asylum seekers are “sneaking in” is to exploit a technicality to build a misleading caricature of the person. It is a lie, even if it is based on some degree of truth. After all, it is quite possible to spread a false testimony using only factually true statements to do so!

Furthermore, the asylum seekers in the migrant caravan are not an "invasion" nor are they a "threat"—even the U.S. military has confirmed this, so anyone continuing to use those terms has no justification for doing so and is simply violating God's commandment at this point.

Most undocumented immigrants are not "criminals." They are good people who have made a difficult decision to escape violence and poverty and to provide for their families. They have proven this by being good neighbors to us all these years living here in the states. It would be breaking one of God's commandments to refer to them as "illegals," because that is a false testimony of who they are—it would be more accurate to say they are good people who made a tough decision to provide for their families, and in doing so, some committed a legal misdemeanor. 

Just like the person who broke into the car to save the baby in the opening example, it would be far more truthful to refer to most undocumented immigrants are "heroes" rather than as "illegals."

My neighbors set off illegal fireworks all summer. Should I refer to them as "illegals"? Or are they just "folks having a good time"? Both are technically true, but which is the more honest witness? Given what the fireworks did to the sleep habits of my toddler, I don't have much sympathy for them. At least the undocumented immigrants did what they did in an attempt to provide for their families. All my neighbors are doing is just being inconsiderate of others.

How we label people perhaps says more about who we are more than it may say about the people we are attempting to describe. Perhaps we should just drop all these labels, as all of them dehumanize the people we are talking about by reducing these dignified, beautiful, complex human beings into some narrow category.

Christians Knowing Christians Without Agenda

Catholic, Methodist and Baptist: Pastors and friends.
Picture and story here.

"My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one,Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me."

(John 17:20-21)

What should we do over the fact that Christianity has been fractured into so many denominations, groups and sub-groups?  Some call these divisions a scandal. They say it's against the will of Christ himself (John 17:20-21). Other say divisions are necessary to preserve the purity of the faith. Others say it's just human nature.

A number of people want to mend these wounds and tear down these fences. We may call this an effort toward "Christian unity," or "ecumenism," or sometimes we just call it building better  "denominational relationships."

It is tempting to want to solve the whole "problem." You start asking:  How can we reconcile all differences, heal all pains and represent one unified Christianity? Does that mean everyone joins one denomination or that we all merge together into one giant church?

There may be nothing wrong with those goals. Perhaps Christ himself has something in mind for the Omega point in the future where "all who believe" are indeed "one." Perhaps we already are one in some mystical, cosmic way that only Christ can see but we can only catch mere snippets of from time to time. Even so, it sure seems unfortunate that our outward signs here on earth speak more of division and the very real wounds these divisions have caused.

Perhaps it's the realist in me that is emerging with age or the fact that I've been immersed in this work for a while now, but in my opinion the prospects for Christian unity need not be quite so bold nor immediate. This doesn't mean we quit trying. If Christ wants oneness, then it is our job to keep working for it, even if the goal seems impossible, or at the very least, very far off. In the Roman Catholic Church, recent popes and Vatican documents have all affirmed that it is part of the mission of the Church—and the duty of every believer—to do something for the unity among Christian believers. After all, miracles do happen. More has been accomplished in the last few decades than anyone would have thought possible a short while before. We have to look no further than the 1999 Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification signed by the Lutheran World Federation and the Catholic Church to see profound agreement on the single most divisive issue of the Reformation. This has since been signed on by a number of other denominations.

But a lot of people don't even want any kind of full unity that requires a single institutional church at the helm. Others are too impatient to wait or find the task too impossible. If working towards Christian unity requires someone to affirm these goals, then many will opt out of the whole process

Again, maybe it's the realist in me coming out, but perhaps we should put aside those dreamy, lofty goals. We don't have to give up on our hopes, of course, but we can maybe try a different approach. Instead, here is what I propose: 

At the very least, Christians of all denominations out to get to know each other as neighbors, friends and most importantly as people of faith. If we stumble across a wound, we an do something to try to heal it.  We can celebrate the good things we see in each other and the very real gifts that God has given to others. We can offer constructive feedback to each other when we see things that worry us—and that feedback will be heard a lot better if it comes in the context of true friendship. We can and should do the things together that we can do together.  

Maybe—just maybe—it's perfectly alright if we don't try to change each other or propose some major changes for how the church looks and behaves on earth.  But we ought to get to know each other.

Too often, people imagine an end goal of "perfect Christian unity" and find it either so threatening—or it seems so impossible—that they give up doing reasonable, friendly things in the meantime. They worry they are being asked to give up too much of their identity or beliefs to go down that road. [Just for the record, in my experience, the professionals who work for Christian unity do a great job respecting differences and do not simply gloss over them as a matter of principle, although mistakes can happen in this, but overall this is what I've found.]

We can stay in our respective churches, but we don't have to seclude ourselves in some kind of protective bunker. We shouldn't pretend that the others don't exist and create an isolated bubble for ourselves to live in. After all, we know that other Christians of other stripes most certainly do exist.  We can say "hello," acknowledge each other and get to know each other.

Is this some kind of subversive, sneaky attempt to let our guards down so the ecumenical Trojan horse can enter? Not at all. I am in fact proposing the opposite—getting to know each other without any other agenda or ulterior motive. 

Having said that, I have to admit that change is always more likely when we don't push so hard for it. The paradox is that once we truly—and I mean really and truly and genuinely—respect each other as we are that creates the space for growth, evolution and yes, perhaps even miracles. But perhaps that would all come on Christ's terms and not our own, in which case that would be a wonderful thing, no? Christ seems to work best when we get our own agenda out of the way.

But back to being the realist—I don't need or want to change you. But I ought to get to know you. After all, we both profess to follow this same guy Christ. And we inhabit the same public spaces. As a Christian, part of my responsibility is to at the very least get to know Christians of other stripes and build positive relationships, perhaps even mutually-beneficial relationships, whenever possible. Many Christians are already doing this.

And sometimes in doing this I pause and say to myself... "I actually like that you are different from me.... it gives me a chance to learn something new and see things differently." And maybe somewhere in this we find the miracle of the unity we already have—and a taste of the unity to come.

All Christians are Asylum-Seekers

A Christian IS an asylum-seeker.  

All of us.  Each of us.  

By definition.

As refugees, don't we need to flee from the sin of this world? Don't we come to the proverbial Gates of God's Kingdom as asylum-seekers, begging that God may allow us to enter?    

Some have argued—without exaggeration—that the entire Bible is a story of migration.

In the Bible, we read that Noah was adrift at sea until God brought his ark to a safe landing. Abraham set out with little more than his family en route to the Promised Land. Moses led the Israelites out of captivity and slavery. Jesus the Good Shepherd leads his sheep from the sin of this world to enlightenment and to His Kingdom, both on earth as it is in Heaven. The Apostles went forth into the world sharing the Good News. 

In the Catholic Church, we understand that we are a "pilgrim people." It's our very identity. See this link for quotes from documents of Vatican II as well as from Pope John Paul II on this. We are a people on the move.

Movement of people is an underlying theme in all of Scripture—in particular the movement of desperate people. I rarely say that "the Bible" has one message, but in this case it truly does. You could argue that it's there on every page, in every passage.

To not self-identify as a migrant is to understand neither the Bible nor Christianity.

To not understand that moving out of your comfort zone toward trusting in what God has prepared for you is to miss so much of the Biblical message. This can be an interior movement as your own thoughts mature or it can be an exterior change in your surroundings. It can be a movement you undertake as an individual, a family or as a whole nation of people.

Aren't we ALL asylum seekers who seek refuge in God's kingdom?

If there is ANY role that can best emulate our relationship with God, it should be that of refugee and asylum-seeker. This is how we come to God: We are the huddled masses of desperate, poor people gathered outside God's gate, begging for mercy and a warm welcome in—a welcome we can't purchase or deserve. And may God have mercy on us for how we treat others who are migrants, immigrants, refugees and asylum-seekers. We will want safe passage and a warm welcome into God's kingdom, but did we grant safe harbor to others when they begged for it, when we easily could have provided it?

This is the migrants journey—but not just any migrant.  This is the journey of a refugee—but not just any refugee. This is the journey of an asylum-seeker.  This is the position we are in when we come to God.  We are at the gates of God's Kingdom, begging for entry, and there is nothing we can do to merit it, earn it, buy it or deserve it. We have nothing to barter with. Only God's mercy will let us in, and thank God there is mercy in abundance!

It would be wrong to ignore many passages in the Bible which claim there is a direct relationship between the mercy we give in this world and the mercy we receive from God. Look at the story of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10:25-37 or the parable of the sheep and goats in Matthew 25:31-46. I know it is tricky as that enters into the whole "works vs grace" debate, and I don't want to get into that here. Furthermore, some people may not interpret these "Kingdom" passages to be about an afterlife in Heaven, but this blog post is written for those who do. Perhaps these passages have more to do with how well we "know God" rather than whether or not we get a ticket to Heaven.

So when you see the huddled masses who have traveled thousands of miles with little more than the clothes on their backs approaching the U.S. border begging for safety—THAT is exactly what we look like when we approach the proverbial Gates of Heaven.  

More importantly: Does that change our attitudes about them at all? 

Sometime we feel lost at sea, like Noah, doing all we can to just hold on for the ride. Sometimes we set out daringly like Abraham. Sometimes our whole family—and our whole people—are running for our lives like the Israelites out of Egypt. Sometimes we agree to our mission as formed disciples, like the Apostles. But in all this, we are a people on the move, trusting in God.

Maybe you'll "get to Heaven" whether you help out these asylum-seekers or not—after all, our God is a God of mercy. But then again how can you get to Heaven if you don't know God, and if you see these huddled masses and see neither yourself nor Christ in them, then can you really say you know God? And furthermore, don't you want to know God just for the sake of knowing God, whether or not that comes with a ticket to Heaven or not?

Innkeeper Spirituality

...and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. - Luke 2:7

As the migrant caravan of asylum-seekers makes its 2,000 mile trek toward the U.S., I'm reminded of two characters from the Gospel of Luke:  The Innkeeper of Bethlehem and the Good Samaritan.

Whose example do we want to follow?

The Innkeeper

Many Christians today practice what I call "innkeeper spirituality." Like the innkeeper in Bethlehem, they can't seem to find any available time, talent or treasure to answer when God knocks on the door in real need.

They have no shortage of excuses, however. I can imagine the innkeeper saying things like:

"I am tired!"
"I have already helped others! In fact, I'm the most generous innkeeper around!"
"The census is the busiest time of the year!"
"I have to protect my time with my family!"
"I don't trust outsiders--what if one of them is a thief or murderer?"

Maybe those excuses are valid... maybe not so much.

Some characters in the Bible get a bad rap, and the innkeeper is no exception. Truth be told we don't know much about this person. How much can we infer based on a single line of text from a 2,000+ year old document?

It's even more confusing when the document doesn't even say what we think it says. There was no actual mention of an innkeeper. All we are told is that there was "no guest rooms available" and then it says "for them" (as a side note, were rooms available to others and just not to this particular family?)

Still, it's not hard to imagine what went down. Here is a family traveling from out of town and the woman is about to give birth. Joseph as husband and protector probably explored every possible option, promised every favor imaginable and left absolutely no stone unturned. I'm sure he inquired with at least one innkeeper. Perhaps he approached several innkeepers.

The innkeeper probably felt more than a little twang of guilt. We imagine him sternly saying "No!" and then slamming the door to the Holy Family. The more guilt he felt, the harder he had to bite down on that guilt in order to push away this family in need.

But seriously, he couldn't ask some young person to move off the proverbial couch to make way for an expectant mother-to-be? A pregnant woman about to give birth should be the one condition that would cause most everyone--even some of the most fearful or hardest hearted people--to make some space available! If a woman was literally about to give birth and knocked on my door at night, I couldn't imagine saying, "yeah, go outside to the shed... watch out for raccoons" It's almost inconceivable.

The Good Samaritan paying the innkeeper

The Good Samaritan

What could the innkeeper have done differently?

Luke himself actually gives us the answer later in the gospel in the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). Again, here is a stranger in need and another person who comes in contact with him by chance. Unlike the innkeeper in Bethlehem, the good Samaritan reaches out to the injured man. The Samaritan goes toward him. He takes the initiative. He takes personal responsibility for this man. He makes sure there is a room available for him by not only paying the innkeeper himself but also promising to return to personally check on him--to see if additional money were needed but perhaps also to check up on the innkeeper to make sure he did what he was paid to do.

This is no doubt a different innkeeper than the one in Bethlehem. Luke seems pretty hard on innkeepers. Still, isn't it curious that those who are in the business of providing hospitality seem to be the least hospitable in his gospel? It is outsiders who don't have as many resources to leverage who show us God's abundance!

The Samaritan does more than he is asked and goes the extra mile. The Samaritan was obviously busy and had somewhere to be, but he still made arrangements for his absence. Hopefully, he also reflected on why the man was injured in the first place and would raise his voice in public so that the road to Jericho could become a safer place in the future.

The Samaritan could have made all the same excuses as the innkeeper. No doubt the priest and the Levite who passed by the injured man gave those same excuses--the same excuses we tell ourselves when we drive by a person asking for a handout or when we close the border to people begging for help.

"Make every effort"

Hebrews 12:14 instructs us to "make every effort to live in peace with everyone and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord."

It is clear that the Good Samaritan "made every effort." It is also clear that the innkeeper did not.

Perhaps sometimes we do need to say "no." Even the most charitable people will speak of the need to set limits or risk burning out. But are we making every effort before we arrive at that point?

Back to the migrant caravan: The U.S. has large tracts of available land and empty housing. It is the richest nation in the history of modern civilization. On top of that, immigration of all types is generally a boost to the economy. Despite that, many Americans say to migrants, refugees and asylum-seekers: "We don't have room! We can't accommodate!"

Meanwhile, a much poorer nation like Uganda hosts the world's largest refugee settlement. How is Uganda willing and able to open its doors while the U.S. is not?

We have a choice: We can practice the innkeeper spirituality that always says "we can't." Or we can follow in the footsteps of the Good Samaritan who said, "Yes, I can do something here."

But if we turn them away, I have to ask:  How could they possibly be a burden? We could welcome in this whole migrant caravan of asylum-seekers and the vast majority of Americans would not feel even the slightest inconvenience.

My prayer: I hope each of these asylum seekers find safe harbor and a warm Christian welcome here in the United States.

Inclusion: The Default Christian Stance

Picture taken from here.

Make every effort to live in peace with everyone and to be holy;

without holiness no one will see the Lord. 

- Hebrews 12:14

News of the "migrant caravan" on its way to the U.S. border from Honduras has taken over the news cycle.

How are Christians to respond?

In all the arguments on all sides, there is one perspective I almost never hear:  "Make every effort" as the quote from Hebrews states.

There is no shortage of debate in this country. Arguments run the gamut from securing borders to opening them, to making short terms allowances to long-term immigration reforms.

Christians often get tangled in the tediousness of moral arguments.  They ask:  "Does a nation have a right to secure its borders at all?" "Can a Christian ever make the decision to exclude someone?"

The problem with the way we ask those questions is that we easily get lost in the details. Most theologians and pastors would argue that there are indeed times when we can exclude. But the question is: Should we? And should we now in this particular instance?

The fact that we can exclude in some very limited scenarios does not give us license to exclude in every scenario. This is the logical fallacy I hear being played out in debates on this subject ad infinitum. Those times it may be regrettably the right decision to exclude someone may be few and far between and in very specific cases.

The Christian ought to the on the side of the outsider. The Christian should be listening to the cries of the poor. The Christian should be bending over backwards to include. In fact, "inclusion" should be the default stance for a Christian: There is always room at the table for more. There is always extra food in the pot. And when we're not sure if there's enough, we'll trust in God to help us find a way to make way.

“…I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” 
Isaiah 43:19

Let the theologians argue whether it is ever possible to exclude someone. Perhaps it is. But are we making every effort, as the quote from Hebrews above says? Are we showing sorrow when we have to close the door? Do we believe that God is "making a way" or do we throw up our hands after making little effort and say that nothing is possible?

The U.S. is the richest and most powerful nation in the history of the modern world. We have ample, available land for newcomers. On top of that, immigrants are most often a boost to the overall economy. If that weren't enough, it is quite often U.S. policies in the first place that may be forcing much of this migration of asylum-seekers. Looking at all that, under what criteria can we actually exclude those who come to the door seeking safe asylum?

We should make every effort to include. That should be where our heart is. That should be where our efforts are. If we ever make a decision to exclude some people, we should do it with a very heavy heart. We should regret it and feel sorrow. Most people who are against welcoming newcomers are those who almost certainly have not even tried to sympathize with their circumstances or have even tried to make room for them before reaching their decision to exclude. This is the scandal: The Christians who want to exclude migrants are most often those who haven't even tried to include them, and I don't see much sorrow about their decision.

If we have to reach the unfortunate decision to exclude someone who comes seeking safe refuge, we should do with all the sorrow as if we have indeed closed the door on Christ himself, because, in a very real way, we have (as Dorothy Day from the Catholic Worker movement reminded us over and over).

River Current: The Physics of Prayer

Floating in style.

Most religious traditions affirm the practice of prayer. But have you ever thought deeply about how prayer works?

Do we think there's a man up in the clouds who hears our prayers and decides whether or not to grant them? Why do we need to pray over and over for something—why isn't once enough? Why do we pray at all if God already knows our thoughts and desires? Do we think God will be more likely to grant our prayers if we pray for something fervently and repeatedly? Are we trying to prove to God how important something is to us by praying so hard? Are we trying to control God?

Much of that sounds like the Prosperity Gospel and seems to go against the Protestant notion of works-based righteousness. We can't earn God's favor or work hard to deserve a reward in the form of an answered prayer. It also seems to turn God into an unpredictable genie who sometimes grants wishes and sometimes doesn't.

So what exactly does prayer accomplish? How does it "work"?

River Current

I liken the spiritual life to the current of a river. Okay, that sounds cliché, but hear me out:

We are born into this river and that's where we live our lives. It is all around us, and it has energy and movement. Like a person swimming in the river, we are a part of it and yet also have some autonomy. Life and all the world we know are like the river itself. The Spirit is the current of this river.

We have the ability to either swim with the flow of the current or against it.

There are things we can do—or things that can happen to us—to align ourselves more closely with the Spirit.

Religious traditions have identified methods that can put us more or less in line with the current of the river. These include prayer, meditation, academic study, works of charity, artistic pursuits, our daily labors, our family, friendships, community involvement, our humility, our poverty and our passions.

When we are moving with the current, we seem to swim more easily, cover more ground and do what we are meant to be doing. When we fight against it, it's sometimes dangerous and sometimes not dangerous—but it's a lot of effort with perhaps little gain. We're out of sync.

We don't control the river, but we can make ourselves more receptive to it.

And sometimes the river will simply move us no matter what we do. Call it grace.

The current can also be dangerous—a long tradition of martyrs witnesses to this.

Maybe this is not an original thought—saying that the Spirit is like a river is borderline cliché, after all. How many of you reading this have Garth Brooks' The River going through your mind right now?  But it feels new to me if we apply this metaphor of the river specifically to spiritual practices. It's a way to understand prayer. It's a way to understand religion. It's the physics of prayer and other spiritual practices.

Intercessory Prayer

A lot of people reject the notion of the power of intercessory prayer, saying—if there is a God, how can we pretend to control God through our petitions?

A common response to this is: Prayer changes the one who prays more than it commands the activity of God.

Pope Francis seems to be echoing these thoughts with his quote: "You pray for the hungry. Then you feed them. That's how prayer works."

This is one of my all-time favorite Francis quotes. He has an ultra-earthy spirituality that I just love. It's a spirituality so concrete it sounds like atheism. It is deeply incarnational. He is challenging anyone who has lulled themselves into a false reassurance that the passive action of praying for the hungry is actually going to somehow bring food to their mouths. That is not nearly enough. I don't think he is saying that prayer itself isn't enormously beneficial, I just think he's suggesting that if all you are doing for the hungry is praying for them, that's not exactly bringing your 'A' game by any stretch. Prayer changes the person praying. It may do other things, as well, but changing the person praying may be its primary outcome.

The Physics of Prayer

Prayer changes us, but not just our attitudes—it's more about energy. When we pray, we turn toward the current and allow it to carry us—like a sunflower that turns toward the sun. We vibrate at the same frequency of the Spirit. Or at least, we tune ourselves to harmonize with the Cosmos better. Prayer—and other spiritual practices—help align ourselves to go with the current rather than against.

Instead of resisting the current, attempting to muddle along inch-by-inch through our own power, we instead submit ourselves to the current first. Then our efforts are supported and encouraged by the momentum we have put ourselves in line with. It's the same spiritual energy that gave birth to us and which is our ultimate end. After all, we're born into this river and we're going with it whether we like it or not. It's all that there is.

There are many mini currents and eddies in the river, but with prayer we are attempting to tune into the deepest, most fundamental rhythm. Prayer brings us into a resonance with the deepest, life-giving wavelengths of the universe. It does not just change our attitude or direct our awareness, both of which are good, impactful things—it causes us to vibrate at a different frequency. Once we are vibrating at a different frequency, the world around us changes, too, because we will then be drawing other people, activities and things that resonate with our new vibrations.

Imagine yourself a street musician. If you play sad songs, you might invite the tears of those who pass by. If you play happy songs, you may find yourself surrounded by happy people dancing. If you align yourself with the deepest currents of the universe—the deepest of which is love, according to all the mystics from nearly all the world's religions—then your life and activities will correspond with love, and you will probably witness daily miracles. You don't control it but you can submit yourself to it.

What meditation looks like.

A early version of this article first appeared here (July 4, 2016).