What Belongs to Whom?

You've probably heard a conversation between children that went something like this. "Hey, you're sitting in my seat." To which comes the reply, "Well I don't see your name on it anywhere."

Perhaps a parent wrote your name in items that you took to school with you. I still have my name in dress shirts that get taken to the cleaners. I've known people who divvied the furniture in their home by letting children and grandchildren put their names on the pieces they wanted.

"Show me a denarius," says Jesus. "Whose head and whose title does it bear?" Whose name is on it? Jesus, as he so often does, asks a question in response to a question. This time it was a question about whether Jews should pay taxes to the emperor, an especially loaded question for any would-be Messiah. To answer "Yes" offered support to the occupying Romans, but to say "No" would risk arrest for inciting rebellion. It's a carefully crafted "gotcha" on the part of Jesus' opponents.

Jesus parries his opponents, though some of his technique is hard for modern readers to notice. It starts when his opponents are able to show Jesus a denarius, a coin that not only had a picture of the emperor but included the inscription, "Tiberius Augustus Caesar, Son of the Divine Augustus." Such a coin was blasphemous to Jews and a violation of the second commandment, yet Jesus' questioners apparently have just such a coin on them.

Finally Jesus answers them, though not exactly. "Then give to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are Gods." Jesus doesn't say which is which, but any good Jew who knows her psalms is well aware that "The earth is the LORD's and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it." (Psalm 24)

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The second question in the Presbyterian Study Catechism asks, "How do you live by the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ?" The answer begins, "I am not my own. I have been bought with a price." (See 1 Corinthians 6:19-20) Someone else's name is on me, and on everything and everyone else.

This has huge implication, impacting everything from what I do with "my" money and "my" time to how humanity cares for the earth, yet the individualism of our culture often seems to obliterate such notions, even among those who profess the faith. I find it incredibly odd that some of the politicians most prone to trumpet their Christianity seem to think that the earth is ours to use as we see fit, that the disappearance of vast numbers of species is unimportant. Never mind that God "gives to the animals their food, and to the young ravens when they cry," (Psalm 147) and "not one sparrow is forgotten in God's sight." (Luke 12)

And if we belong to God we also belong to one another. We are not independent agents free to do whatever is best for us and us alone. Yet I saw this headline in the Washington Post earlier in the week. "Rich Californians Balk at Limits: 'We're Not All Equal When It Comes to Water.'" The attitude of some in the article seemed to be, "If I have the money to pay for it, the hell with any problems it causes for others." No wonder Jesus was a lot more popular with the poor than he was with rich folks.

The more money we have, the more stuff we start to put our names on. Do this with enough stuff and you may start to think it really is yours and yours alone. Get wealthy enough and you may even start to think you are different and better than regular people. You may not put "divine" or "Augustus" next to your name (unless, perhaps, you're Donald Trump), yet you may well begin to imagine that you matter more than other people do.

"Give to the emperor the things that belong to the emperor, and to God the things that belong to God," says Jesus. He also says that following him requires self denial, giving up possessions, and losing one's life. He actually asks me to give up things that I've written my name on. Just who does he think he is?

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Us and Them

For some strange reason, despite most voters saying their big issue is the economy, the Republican presidential campaign has been spending a lot of time on social issues such as abortion and who should pay for birth control.  And sometimes the conversation takes on an all too familiar tone of faithful us versus godless them.  This reached a something of a beyond the pale apex when Rush Limbaugh called a woman who disagreed with him a prostitute and a slut, and suggested she should post sex videos online in return for getting free birth control.

Even most Republicans thought this went way too far (thought strangely, none of the presidential candidates), and Mr. Limbaugh gave an apology of sorts.  I don't feel any need to comment on Limbaugh's remarks in particular, but I think they fit within a pattern often seen among religious folks. We often presume that we occupy a religious high ground from which we may disparage the morality of others.

Conservative Christians tend to do this on issues of sex, abortion, and a few other law and order type items.  But we more "progressive" Christians can get just as holier-than-thou over social justice issues that are near and dear to us.

And so I was struck by Paul's words on sexual and other forms of immorality in today's reading from 1 Corinthians.  The Corinthians have obviously misunderstood something Paul has said to them earlier about shunning immoral persons, and Paul wants to clear things up.  The faithful are not to judge those outside the church on their immorality.  And his earlier command not to associate with immoral people does not apply to outsiders, but only to immoral church members.

Now it is difficult to make an easy application of Paul's words in our day.  The Christians at Corinth were outside the mainstream of society, and Paul was not so concerned with politics and such as he presumed that Jesus' return was imminent.  Still, it seems to me that we in the church are often prone to do exactly the opposite of what Paul recommends.  We are loathe to say anything about the morality of those in our group, be they members or our church or our political party.  But we are quick to pass judgment on those outside our faith, our church, or our political group.

Seems to me that Jesus warned us about wanting to remove the speck in our neighbor's eye while ignoring the log in our own.  And our reputation (sometimes deserved) as hypocrites arises largely from our ignoring Paul and Jesus on this.

There's a chapter in Donald Miller's book Blue Like Jazz (now a motion picture - hope Miller appreciates the plug) where he and a few other students at liberal and godless Reed College decided to set up a confession booth at an annual festival.  Given the Hedonistic nature of the festival and the rarity of openly Christian students on campus, this seemed an odd idea.  But this confession booth took Paul and Jesus' words to heart.  It wasn't for the godless, liberal students of Reed to admit the errors of their ways.  Rather it was for Miller and his companions to confess the Church's sins to the world, to the other students at Reed.

It was a huge success as a steady stream of people came to hear their confessions.  And afterwards, the students at Reed were a lot more interested in hearing about Jesus and helping with mission projects.  Who'd have thought that the best way to reach out to the "godless" is for the "godly" to say they're sorry.

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Spiritual Hiccups - Doubts and Other Gifts

I love the LORD, because he has heard
   my voice and my supplications.
Because he inclined his ear to me,
   therefore I will call on him as long as I live.

So what happens when God doesn't hear my voice or incline an ear to me?  Should I perhaps write my own psalm?  "I don't love the LORD, who ignored me and turned away from my pleas."  I do of course understand that God may well hear me and not do what I want to my own best interests.  "No" is an answer.  But there are times when a clear "No" would be so much better than silence, nothing.

I sometimes think the Church does people of faith a disservice by not talking very much about doubt and the very real experience of God's absence.  In fact for many Christians, doubt and God's absence are so feared, so seen as a the opposite of faith, that they will do anything to ward them off.  Sometimes I even wonder if certain forms of zealous fundamentalism aren't simply poor strategies for dealing with doubt.  Believe certain things hard enough and vigorously enough and unquestioningly enough, and doubt won't be able to find a foothold.  (I need better labels.  "Fundamentalist" means adherence to certain fundamental tenants, and in this sense, I am a fundamentalist.  I have certain core beliefs that I think of as minimally required in order to be a Christian.)

I think that acknowledging doubts, and especially acknowledging the experience of God's absence can actually open us to deeper faith.  The absence of God can generate a desire, a longing for God's presence, and presence is something entirely different from a doctrine or set of beliefs.  And many wise spiritual guides have said that a longing for God is truly a gift from God.  Such a longing can motivate a deeper search and a willingness to be reshaped and transformed in ways that better suit God's presence.

If you have never pleaded for God to come to you, if you've never felt a painful desire to connect or reconnect with God, I suspect you are missing out on an important part of growing in faith, of growing deeper into the presence of God.

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Spiritual Hiccups - Partisans, Ideology, Faith, and God

As events surrounding the debt ceiling played out in Washington this weekend, it was difficult to feel a great deal of respect for anyone involved.  We Americans have long had a great deal of faith in the "genius" of our governmental system, from the idea of checks and balances to the right to elect our own leaders.  Yet this system has failed us before in times of great crisis.  The Civil War is a horrible reminder of our political system's inability to deal with a huge, partisan divide.  In that case it made little difference that the issue of slavery provided a clear moral high ground.  For those with an economy built on slavery, it did not matter.  The South was even able to muster the Church's support.  (For those think that the Civil War was not primarily about slavery, read the secessionists' own writings.  They certainly seemed to think that it was.)

Making fun of politicians is an ancient sport, and ridiculing those in Congress has been around for a long time.  But form much of our history, and despite failures such as the Civil War, there still seemed to be an underlying faith in the system.  Yes, it had its flaws, but it was the best system in the world; freedom, democracy, and so on.

I'm not sure this was ever a good idea, but there was a time when many Christians understood America and its system of governance to be an instrument in God's hands.  There was divine purpose in it somehow.  But such notions are long gone, and their demise perhaps mirrors a growing cynicism about government.  But people need something or someone where they can put their trust.

Ideologies are popular with many.  There are ideologies left, right, and everywhere in between, although the ones at the edges often produce the more fervent support.  But the problem with placing faith in an ideology is that competing ideologies are, by definition, the enemy.  When an ideology becomes an article of faith, opposing ideologies can easily be seen as the anti-christ.

The attempt to brand President Obama as a Muslim is an extreme example of this.  Denying that he is a Christian helps confirm that he is not "one of us."  He is a "them" and therefore an enemy.

Politics has always been a contact sport, and partisan nastiness is nothing new.  But when there was a shared faith in the system, to some degree we were all on the same side.  Our differences were akin to Christian denominations where very different practices of the faith were still understood to be within the same family. (Although it's worth noting that when I grew up in the South, some conservative Christian camps sought to marginalize Catholics by insisting they were not really Christians.)  When there was an acknowledgement, however begrudging, that we were all on the same side, we could  be befuddled by the strange ideas of those who thought differently than us yet still assume that we shared many hopes and goals.

Curious that as a nation we seem to have become much more tolerant of religious diversity while becoming more strident politically.  And I fear that much of our religious tolerance is largely the result of faith becoming less important in our lives.  If the National Study of Youth and Religion is to be believed, faith has become a private, spiritual thing that does not have much impact on day to day living.  The study labeled the faith of American teenagers -- a faith transmitted to them by their parents and congregations -- Moralistic Therapeutic Deism, a vague, benign notion of God who is all for general goodness and fairness, who welcomes good folk into heaven when they die, but has little to do with the day to day.

My ramblings today are genuinely a "spiritual hiccup."  I started out reflecting on this morning's Psalm 62, on God as rock and salvation, a God who executes justice, who repays "all according to their work."  I was wondering where God was amidst the high level dysfunction on display in Congress, and somehow I ended up here.

I'm inclined to see the rise of faith in ideologies as a symptom of a Christian faith crisis.  We do not see God as an active player in the life of the world.  We may trust in principles that we understand to have come from God in some way, but God is not our rock.  A strong military, a pension plan, a good career and salary; now those are things that can secure us.

Neither do we really expect that God will in some way repay us for all that we do.  We're convinced that God is not too concerned about issues of daily justice.  The only real question is personal salvation.  Are you in our out?  Did you get an invite to the great, heavenly dinner party?  We don't seriously believe that God is going to intervene on behalf of the poor, oppressed, vulnerable, and outcast, never mind what the Bible says.

What is your rock, salvation, and fortress?  (And remember, in the Bible salvation is not about going to heaven when you die. It is about God rescuing you, healing you, restoring you.)  What are the things that you trust, that you believe in?  And are we in danger of our ideologies becoming our gods?

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