Middle School

Some of you, my seven readers, know that I enjoy youth ministry. I enjoy spending time with young people, in particular middle school and high school students, and especially in the context of exploring faith.

So it was with great anticipation and pleasure that I took a few middle school students from the congregation I serve to join a few hundred others at a youth gathering. There's much about this event that I could write about, but my favorite part of this youth gathering every year is “Stump the Pastor”.

What happens is that the young people participate in different one-hour workshops. One of the workshops they can choose from is led by a pastor, and is simply a forum at which the young people can ask the pastor questions.

I don't know how other pastors run the workshop when they're in charge, but here's what I do: I tell the students that they're welcome to ask any question they have … about anything. And so that they feel free to actually ask anything, I use pens and paper to make the process anonymous.

If you've spent a little time with middle schoolers, you'll expect that I'd get questions such as, “What is my name?” (answer: my name is Matthew), and “How do you write 8 in binary?” (answer: 1000). These questions are fun, and when I take them as seriously as I take any theological or scriptural question, the kids seem to understand that I'm taking them seriously as people and not trying to shove 'church answers' down their throats.

Now, if you've spent more than a little time with middle schoolers, you'll also recognize that they have some questions more serious than “Do you like Tim Tebow or Payton Manning better?” (answer: I haven't met either of those guys, so I can't say).

You know those existential questions that most of us wrestle with in the company of our friends late at night when we're in high school or (especially) college? Well, middle school students wrestle with the same questions, even though they might not have the language to articulate the questions well. And this is the part of the workshop that's the most rewarding – taking what's written seriously enough to ask, and then address, the question that sometimes isn't very well written.

Who wrote the bible? Are gay people accepted and loved by God? Does my friend who goes to a Presbyterian church believe the same thing I do? what about my Catholic friend? Mormon? Jewish? Does God love the Muslims?  Is it ok to kill someone if it's self-defense, or if they're threatening your family?

At the end of the day, middle schoolers (and this is news to no one) seem to be primarily concerned with figuring out where they belong in the world. And at the end of the hour, my hope and prayer has always been that they've found a place like that at least for a little while. I hope they recognize that no matter how they grow and change, and no matter how much their faith changes and grows (or even shrinks), that they can find a place to belong in the Body of Christ.

Of course that's probably my hope and prayer for everyone, whether they're middle schoolers or not.

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Ritual, Change, and Growth

I've said for a long time that people are shaped by ritual, by liturgy.  We yearn for the predictability of routine.  Consider, for example, how you brush your teeth.  I'd be willing to bet that most of us do that in exactly the same way every single day, and that some of us could probably brush our teeth blindfolded without any problem.

We are creatures of habit, and while ritual is infused into much of our existence, it may be most obviously apparent in our religious life.  The rituals of our daily life, and of our faith life, shape who we are and who we are becoming.

So I was surprised yesterday morning, after having been on vacation and away for only one Sunday, that I felt like I didn't quite have my feet under me as I was helping to lead the liturgy (our worship rituals).

Then I remembered that I've felt this way before after having been gone.  It seems like it doesn't take much to change something deep within me, even when I didn't feel different and didn't realize that I'd changed (only so slightly, though ... it was just vacation).

Sometimes, for our faith to grow, it's good to be jolted (in more significant ways than vacation) out of our routine and into a deeper life of faith ... which is part of the reason individuals and communities take part in events like mission trips and silent retreats and youth gatherings.

Wednesday, the ELCA (my denomination) youth gathering will begin.  This event, over 30,000 youth and caring adults gathering together in one city, can be a significant 'jolt' from ordinary routine.  Plus, because it's a faith-event, it may well help many young (and older) people experience the patterns and rituals of their own faith community differently.  At least, that's the hope I approach the youth gathering with.

The question, and struggle, will be to translate the faith experience of the youth gathering into daily life in some kind of meaningful way that can also be transformative for life in community back home.

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Exuberant Joy

I got to spend the day today at a water park with my two kids, three of their cousins, and my sister-in-law.  The best part of the day, for me, was the time I spent with my niece, the youngest of the kids, and the only one who had not been to a water park before. 

The two of us started the day together.  We went first to a big wave pool.  My niece warned me that she doesn't know how to swim, and so I planned to keep a close eye on her.  I especially planned to watch her closely in this pool where the waves can be pretty powerful, especially if you're 7 years old. 

At first we stayed back where the waves aren't quite so high or strong.  But for the next set, she wanted to be in the deeper water.

As the second or third wave of that set approached, I could tell that it would cover her head and push her around quite a bit.  But for that wave, I was a few feet from her, farther away than I arm-length.  I made my way up next to her as she disappeared for a third time under a wave.  When she came up out of the water, I looked closely at her face (watching for signs of distress).  What I got, though, was nothing but joy and delight.  This pleased me a great deal.  See, my own children are old enough that they're often often not too impressed by much, so I really enjoyed watching my niece experience such delight. 

This is one of the things I enjoy about youth ministry.  The opportunity I have, on occasion, to accompany young people as they grow and have the opportunity to experience new aspects of and angles on their life of faith fills me with joy. 

Next week, at the ELCA youth gathering, there will be lots of teenagers (and some adults) encountering for the first time the wonder of being with tens of thousands of other people who are also having a similar sort of faith adventure to one another.

Unfortunately I don't have the opportunity this year to accompany a group to the gathering.  However, I will be able to spend a couple days at the event, during which time I hope to be able to see for myself a different angle on the good work, and spiritual growth, that happens in that kind of setting.

And hopefully we'll all get to experience for ourselves something like the all-consuming joy and wonder of a 7-year-old at a water park for the first time.

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Intellect and Experience

I wonder, sometimes, if we aren't too concerned and preoccupied with intellectual knowledge about theology, about what's in the bible, and about what the bible means. I wonder if we don't too often neglect experience in favor of knowledge.

I'm spending the week at summer camp this week, with middle school students, and I've started to wonder if that isn't part of the point of camp ~ to move beyond intellect to experience; from knowledge to faith.

Obviously there's nothing wrong with intellectual exploration of the divine. At the same time, there's more to a life of faith than the mind. At camp, young people get the opportunity to explore that life, even if they don't know it's happening.

But what about at church? What about our regular congregational worship life? What about in the life of the congregational community? Do we, in the mainline traditions of Christianity, too often reduce faith to intellectual assent to that which is basically unbelievable?

Still, though, the intellectual is important. Without the intellectuals of history, our life of exploring the divine with our minds would be stunted.

So, then, what would it be like for us to intellectually explore the divine while at the same time we allowed ourselves to be carried away by and experience of the divine that is beyond and apart form the simplicity of our mind?

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Noticing Children

chants and songs

ancient stories and prayers

wash over children who are

turned backward in a pew

crayons and cheerios strewn about;

others coo and mutter

from their spot with mom in the back row,

or circle the narthex, paying little

attention to worship while dad listens

with one ear to the sermon

yet the ancient stories and prayers

chants and songs washing over them

cannot help but to shape their faith

even as they, these children

shape ours

divine mystery

So far in my life, I have been present for the death of one person.  I don't remember exactly how far she was into her nineties at the time, but she had lived a full life.


I got a call from her kids, both in their sixties or seventies at the time, and went down to the nursing home where I had visited her a number of times over the years I'd been one of her pastors.  As we stood around her bed that day, we talked about the funeral for a minute or two.  Then, we made small talk as we watched their mom's breathing get slower and slower.  As the pauses between breaths lengthened, and we watched more closely, it seemed that time itself paused in the space between our breaths.

That day, in a perfectly ordinary room in a perfectly ordinary nursing home, I experienced the presence of the divine in a more powerful and palpable way than I do most days.

I was surprised to be reminded of this as I sat in an interfaith prayer service on the tenth anniversary of the destruction we saw on September 11, 2001.  In that cathedral, as Christians and Jews and Muslims each shared a glimpse at their own scripture and tradition, I couldn't help but think that we Protestant Christians have lost the sense of encountering the divine in mystery.

It was most obvious when the Christian leader read from the Gospel.  It was a fine reading, well read and well chosen ... but in contrast to the beauty of the chanted Qur'an passage, and in contrast with the beauty of the chanted Torah section, I felt that the reading of the Gospel that night (compared to the reading of the other sacred passages) fell short. 



We can never truly and completely understand how the ancient sacred stories work in our soul, or even in our mind.  But, for some reason, we continue to come back to hear these stories ... I think because we know, somewhere deep, that we need them to shape who we are. No, we don't need to chant them in their original language to experience the depth of their mystery, but I don't think it hurts to allow the text to work on us in more ways than one.

It seems to me that we sometimes try to manage the mysterious, to control those things which perhaps we ought to simply experience. I love my tradition as Lutheran Christian.  I love our practices, our history, our theology, and sometimes our culture.  But I also find it beneficial to glimpse the way other people experience communion with the divine, and with divine community.

I'm not interested in cultural appropriation.  Especially from my position of sociological privilege (straight, white, male), I'm not interested in taking the 'cool' parts other people's religious practice and pretending that they "mean so much to me". 

But I can't help but to think that my life of faith, and more importantly that our society, will benefit by each of us being willing to entertain the possibility that G-d might just be bigger than any one of our religious boxes can contain. 

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What do you believe?, part two

Our western, postmodern culture, seems to have decided that there are two options for expressing belief.

On the one hand, a person can be adamant and forthright in their belief.  Of course, it seems that if a person takes a firm stand professing a particular belief, that person must also deny all others as flawed, and therefore unacceptable.  To accept one faith system negates the validity of all others. 

On the other hand, a person can profess a willingness to listen to other people with an open mind.  It seems, though, that if a person takes the position that they are willing to genuinely listen to their neighbor, they will not be able to make their own statement of faith.  To accept the possibility of other faith systems precludes professing any one.  

These seem to be the two positions taken by many people in our culture; it's either "there's only one that's right", or "there's no single one that's right".  In my estimation, both are positions of immaturity.  A person with a more mature faith does not need to denigrate others; neither do they need to accept everything and never make their own statement of faith.  Rather, that person can stand confidently and express articulately their own belief without feeling attacked when a person of a different faith expresses something different.

For instance, I am Christian.  I am not ashamed to articulate my Christian faith; neither do I feel the need to criticize those who are Jewish, or Muslim, or Sikh, or Buddhist, or anything else.  While I believe that I'm right, I accept the possibility ... no, the truth ... that G-d is bigger than I can understand, and that maybe the person who believes something different than I do might also have a valid angle on the truth.  To fervently believe that I'm right does not necessarily mean that everyone else is wrong. 

Now, I have no particular claim to special maturity in faith.  But it seems to me that maybe that's the problem with spirituality and faith in our culture ~ immaturity.

If we only see truth in our own tradition, we miss the richness of the diversity of G-d's creation.   It's pretty self-centered to only see truth in ourselves; plus, it's an act of replacing divine with human sovereignty ~ and that's never a good idea.

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What do you believe?

It seems to me that our western culture is plagued by an overwhelming lack of belief.  Or, maybe not by a lack of belief, but by a lack of belief-backbone.  We seem to be plagued either by the credo 'whatever you want to believe is fine', or by the oppression of 'my way is the only way'. 

Now don't misunderstand ~ I have no need for everyone in the world to believe the same thing as I do. In fact, it seems to me that the tremendous diversity of beliefs and belief systems adds to the beauty of our world.  Furthermore, don't misunderstand me ~ I think it's absolutely necessary that there be a time in people's lives when it's important to not know, yet, what they believe. 

What I have an issue with, though, is that people who know what they believe either, 1) feel like they need to convince you that their way is the only acceptable way, and there's no room for anything else; or 2) are so interested in others figuring things out on their own that they refuse to state their own beliefs for fear of contaminating someone else's faith-journey. 

There has to be something other than these, something that's more healthy.  I, personally, have no need to dictate what anyone believes.  But I also don't need to apologize for what I believe.  Further, if I am able to state my position with confidence, and if I am able to do everything I can to reflect my beliefs in my daily life ~ in short, if I am more confident ~ then those who are figuring things out have an actual, real-life, tangible something to point to. 

It seems to me that if more people lived their beliefs with confidence, while still accepting people who believe something different with grace instead of animosity, we wouldn't have so much made-up, mamby-pamby, doesn't-make-sense, nonsense that passes for faith these days.

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immature faith

I'm spending this week at confirmation camp. For those who aren't culturally Lutheran, confirmation camp is where middle school students spend a week at summer camp with middle school students from other congregations. Tangentially, I would take some time to compare and contrast Lutheran confirmation camp with other types of summer camps, but this is the only thing I know; so if you want to compare and contrast your experience with mine, I'd be glad to do so, but I need to know more about your experience.

Anyway, the young people from my congregation are having a good experience at confirmation camp. They're singing songs, playing games, making friends, studying the bible, and all the other things you should do at a summer camp in the Rocky Mountains. And, despite the reality that it may not seem like it sometimes (you know how middle schoolers can be), I believe they're faith is growing. I believe they are being led by Holy Spirit into a deeper relationship with the Divine.

The faith they are growing in to is immature. Since by and large these students are just beginning to be able to think abstractly, they are not able to think about faith in ways that are complex and nuanced and in-depth. For 11- to 14-year-old people, immature faith seems pretty appropriate.

However, at least in the cultural Lutheran world where I find myself, it seems like this is where faith stops maturing for most people. See, in the cultural Lutheran world, what seems to be typical is that we learn about our faith in Sunday School when we're young; in middle school, we spend some time (two or three years) of more intense study, after which we are confirmed (we affirm our baptism). Then, beginning in high school (and having been confirmed), we are given the choice about whether or not to continue to participate in the life of our community of faith. Many of us choose to not do so. And many of us don't ever choose to return to church. Some, though, do return when we begin having children. We want our kids to have a church and faith foundation, and so we return to the community of faith. However, we find that we rely way more than we ought to on the church institution to pass on the faith, since many of us are stuck with a faith that hasn't matured beyond middle school.

This is a failing on the part of parents, though to a very small degree. It is a much bigger failing on the part of the church. We seem reluctant to challenge people, reluctant to wrestle with the difficult aspects of our tradition, reluctant to point out elements of our life together that aren't biblical. We give teenagers a choice whether or not to be part of a faith community, which is the same choice that adults reserve for themselves. I wonder if we as church leaders are scared to challenge people too much for fear that they'll make the choice to stop attending worship, or to join a different congregation, or to stop giving money ~ any of which would lead to congregational budgetary problems. Or maybe challenging people just makes us uncomfortable.

What we need is a church that people want to be part of. Many people recognize this; unfortunately, though, most people deal with this by turning to marketing- and presentation-oriented solutions. Advertise better, or make the worship and programming flashier, and people will be attracted. And it seems to work, at least to a certain degree. People will come, but when they do they'll expect to be entertained instead of challenged.

What we need is to challenge each other, and support one another as we struggle together. When individuals' faith and a congregation's faith are mature, it is obvious ~ lives and communities are changed for the better. And people are attracted to change.

At camp, young people find themselves spiritually vulnerable ~ the good camps take advantage of that vulnerability for the benefit of the campers' faith. If the church doesn't do the same, doesn't challenge people beyond their comfort zones into places of faithful vulnerability, we will not mature, and the church will become nothing but a self-serving club concerned only with its own existence.

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Wild Goose, day three

Day three of the brand new Wild Goose Festival, and the camp is waking with subdued excitement. Yesterday, we got up excited for the day; by contrast, today, it seems like folks are making that mental and emotional transition from here at the festival to whatever's next.

It has, in my opinion, been a good festival. There's been good energy, good conversations, good music, good art ~ a good spirit about the entire festival, from my perspective.

One thing I have noticed is that there seem to have been vastly different preconceptions about what this festival would be like. Most people were probably expecting an event that fit perfectly with our own faith. Some are evangelical, and wanted an evangelical festival. Some are progressive, and hoped this would be a progressive festival. Some are post-denominational, or post-evangelical, or post-Christian, or universalist ~ and each seemed to be hoping for (and maybe even working to form) a festival that fit with their own perspective.

With more years under its belt, Wild Goose will develop its own culture, and people will have a better idea what to expect and how to engage the event. However, it's been fascinating to experience the initial iteration of the event, especially since I'm pretty sure (based on what I've heard from speakers and musicians, and overheard as I passed by conversations) everyone has at one time or another been uncomfortable and heard something they disagree with. My firm belief is that we cannot grow without some discomfort. Everyone has had an opportunity to grow. The only way it would be possible, here at Wild Goose, for anyone to not be challenged and to grow, would be if they were so entrenched in their own position and opinion that they refuse to take in any new information.

I believe that Wild Goose will continue, will mature as an event, and will be a valuable addition to the faith conversation in this country. We seem to so often find ourselves spending time with people with whom we have a great deal in common ~ which I believe has contributed to the ridiculously hostile and vitriolic disagreements so prevalent in this country. I find an event like Wild Goose valuable if for no other reason than that there is a relatively diverse group of people of faith all in the same place together ~ and the conversation has been civil; no one is screaming at each other.

Thanks be to G-d.

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Festival Glimpses

one to seven
peaceful, but not enough time
-
birds' song,
melodic,
harmonious,
far superior to
abrupt, mechanical,
screaming alarm clocks
-
the campgrounds wake,
anticipating
poetic language
breaking open the
reality of
eucharist,
community,
faith,
relationship
while blending aurally with
music the stage
music from the children's tent
conversations walking by
blending with
new encounters,
new relationships this weekend
-
peripherally and tangentially
informing the regular
normal
ritual of life

Faith

faith - we receive a gift from Holy Spirit
faith - a gift we wrestle to define

yet we still act
we still have agency
we still live into our faith,
undefinable as it may be

and we strive to know,
to grasp, to hold,
to share,
to grow deeper into this
gift of faith

but we will fail
and even when faith is
deep as a pie tin
it is enough
to stand in the
gift of the
waters of baptism
to receive "Given and Shed"
bread and wine,
body and blood.

reflections on surgery

So, yesterday I had surgery. I first sprained my ankle when my friend and high school basketball teammate stepped on it as I was driving the lane one day in practice (which, at the time, was a tremendously uncharacteristic move on my part, since my typical move was to catch the ball and either turn & shoot, or pass it back out). Then, over the course of the next 20+ years, I would regularly re-injure the same ankle. The injuries were of degrees varying from tweak to twist to sprain. Over the years, my ankle became easier to injure, and it became easier for me to self-diagnose ... or, at least, to not go to the doctor.

Finally, though, the pain got too intense, and even when I hadn't injured it, the simple act of running caused too much pain. So I made an appointment, got x-rayed, talked with the doctor, and scheduled surgery. And yesterday was the day.

I've known for at least five or six years that I would need to have surgery, and I've known (especially for the past year) that the end result would be a functional ankle. There was no doubt in my mind that this was what I should do.

I guess there was still some doubt in my emotions, though, that was building for a couple days. I know this isn't unique, but I had a little trouble really stilling myself the day before the surgery. I'm sure I was anxious as I ventured into the unknown. And yesterday, before we went to the surgery center, I found myself pacing nervously around the house, trying desperately to make sure I did everything in my power to make sure the day went smoothly.

The whole time I knew, intellectually, that I would be in good hands; the whole time I knew that there really wasn't much I could actually do to make things go smoothly, to make the surgery successful. But I didn't actually relax until I was in the pre-op room and the nurse was telling me what to expect. She said, "... they'll wheel you into the operating room, you'll roll onto the operating table, and the anesthesiologist will put something in your I.V. that will make go to sleep. The next thing you will be aware of is waking up in the recovery room."

It was this final statement that got me. 'The next thing you'll be aware of ...' When she said this, I realized that I was giving myself completely over to the care of these doctors and nurses, and that I had absolutely no control over my fate. I had no control over whether things went perfectly, or whether I would have trouble on the operating table and end up in the ICU for a few weeks.

I realized that I had absolutely no control over the outcome ~ and this was the best thing I could have heard, because all of a sudden, all of my anxiety went out the window.

Later, probably in a post-surgery, drug-induced haze, I thought to myself, 'if that experience isn't a model for, or articulation of, faith, I don't know what is.' To give oneself over to, and trust completely in, the care of another ~ perhaps this is a small part of what it is to have faith.

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faith and relationship

What if we adopted a pattern for youth ministry ~ no, a pattern for all of church life ~ based on Acts 8, the story of Philip and the Ethiopian Eunuch. No, I'm not interested in castrating young people physically or spiritually. I'm interested in relationship as a model for sharing faith.

I believe that most people are captivated by and interested in matters of faith. But what do we do in church when someone expresses an interest in faith? We (hand them a bible and) smother them with information. We worry about right theology, appropriate behavior in worship. We wonder whether a new participant in our worship life will 'join' the congregation, since once they 'join', we can ask them for financial pledges and they can be on the church council. But right theology, appropriate behavior, congregational membership, budgets and bureaucracies have nothing to do directly with faith.

It seems to me that faith, in fact, comes before theology; that faith comes before membership; that faith comes before commitment. And it seems to me that faith, that amazing and wonderful gift from Holy Spirit, is best nurtured in relationship. The Ethiopian Eunuch was desperate for something, and he was searching scripture to answer his longing. But he was not able to make sense of what G-d was up to outside of relationship.

Instead of hoping that the faith of (young) people will grow when we hand them a bible and fill them full of information, what if we genuinely listened to questions and explored faith together. Perhaps we are uncomfortable with this because most of us lack confidence in our own faith.

I believe, though, that if we explored faith together, in relationship, everyone would benefit. Sure, the faith of the Ethiopian deepened as he entered the waters of his baptism ~ but I have to believe that Philip came away from that encounter (with the living G-d) just as changed, if not more so, than his companion.

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* Thanks to Kenda Creasy Dean's writing in Almost Christian: What the Faith of our Teenagers is Telling the American Church for sparking these musings ~ and apologies if anything seems stolen ~ it is my intention to reflect, not to plagarize. *