Wrestling with God

A Sermon on Genesis 32:22-31

I do not like to watch people fight on television. I do not like wrestling, I do not like boxing, and to be perfectly honest, I routinely mix up wrestling and boxing, which horrifies my husband. I am told they are entirely different sports, but I can’t stand watching either one long enough to learn the difference. Recently, despite my distaste for televised fights, I’ve been hearing a lot recently about yet a third kind of fighting, MMA, or mixed martial arts. Apparently, there is an MMA competition coming up where amateurs can compete to win a big pot of cash.

A man I know from my neighborhood who sometimes attends my church’s sandwich line is certain that that prize has his name on it. He’s been telling me for the last couple of weeks about his training regimen, his potential competitors, the friends who are coaching him. He’s told me how many push-ups and pull-ups he can do and described MMA techniques in exhaustive detail.

Finally, a few days ago, I couldn’t take it anymore. As he continued to wax poetic about roundhouse kicks and chokeholds, I told him that I thought it was a sin and a shame that people relax by watching other humans do violence to one another on television. I told him that I hoped things worked out, and I wanted the best for him, but that the world has too much senseless violence already, without people hitting each other for money and other people watching for fun. I got on my high horse, and I declared the whole endeavor ungodly and evil.

And then I read the scripture for today. It would appear that my personal distaste for wrestling is not actually reflected in all of Christian scripture and theology.

Whoops.

"You're Wearing That?": On Church Dresscodes

This week, the Catholic weekly Our Sunday Visitor has a piece about priests enforcing dress codes at mass, including this gem:

One group at Holy Redeemer that has been especially careless about dress is Latino women, Father Pilcher said, especially when they come for weddings and quinceaneras.
“That’s a group I have to work on,” he told Our Sunday Visitor.

Brothers and sisters in Christ: If an entire cultural group seems to have different standards of dress from the ones you were raised with, and your response to that observation is to say in a media interview that you “have to work on” people of that culture, perhaps the work set before you is internal. Perhaps that work begins with reading the Wikipedia article on cultural imperialism, continues with some exploration of your own privilege, and concludes with a bit of soul-searching. Repentance might be in order.

That said, I think we are dealing with at least two different questions. One question is, “what should people wear to church?” Another question is, “what should clergy and lay-leaders do when worshippers wear something that is Not That?”

What people should wear to church is an issue which transcends time, place, and denomination. It happens to be cropping up in the Catholic press today, but it is not a Catholic Issue. Wherever two or three are gathered in Christ’s name, someone is judging someone else’s outfit, be they Catholic, Evangelical, or UU.

Scriptural witness makes it clear that standards of modesty vary across time and culture. One culture's miniskirt is another culture's exposed ankles, which is another culture's unveiled head. These standards are culturally specific, not eternal or God-ordained, and are customarily policed by men with too much time on their hands, and lovely church ladies who wonder what happened to the good old days.

“But Feminist Pastor,” you may say, clutching your Extremely Tasteful Church Pearls, “Would you have me go to church naked, as I’m sure you do?”

“No,” I would reply, “Because I was raised in New England, and adhere to the culturally specific (see above) church dress norms thereof, Extremely Tasteful Church Pearls and all. Besides which, as a clergywoman I have the privilege of dressing in a black, sack-like robe which covers me from clavicle to mid-calf. I would encourage you to go to church wearing whatever helps you feel worshipful.”

(I also would encourage you, when you’re going to a religious setting other than your own, to try to dress in a way that’s respectful of the norms of the community you are visiting, but that’s more Miss Manners than Feminist Pastor. (Confession moment: I have arrived at more than one religious service and discovered I was dressed inappropriately for worship in that community.) )

But – and this is an entirely different question from what constitutes appropriate attire for church – what is a Christian response to “inappropriate dress”?

Judgment and shaming. Duh.
(Kidding.)

If we are going to answer our call to welcome strangers and rejects and outsiders, if we really believe that the Kingdom of God means everyone has a place at the table, we can’t expect everyone to wear, or even to own, Extremely Tasteful Church Pearls. Isn’t it great when teenagers bring their teenage rebellion, in all its sartorial glory, to church? Isn’t it great when rich folks and poor folks are welcomed at the same table? Isn’t it great when the church lives out its call to be a “house of prayer for all nations” – different cultures and all? Could we come to see challenges to our ideas about clothing as part of the blessing of diversity?

When someone arrives at church in an outfit that raises eyebrows, the church is called to welcome them with open arms, remembering that Jesus turns no one away.

When a pastor’s cultural dress norms are different from those of his or her congregation, it is the pastor’s job to come to understand the culture of the congregation under his or her care – not to condemn it.

When a congregation is in conflict over differing dress norms, whether it is because of age, class, or culture, the task before that church’s leadership is, I believe, to reframe that conflict in language that celebrates the all-too-rare gift of living together as a diverse congregation. The task is to celebrate those differences, recognizing God’s expansive love for all people, regardless of race or class, age or gender, tattoo-status or shirt-tightness. If God’s grace is big enough to welcome women in fur coats and men in Rolex watches, it is certainly big enough to welcome street people, rebellious youth, guys in ripped-up jeans, and scantily clad ladies.

As for modesty? Maybe we should get some of those ladies into clerical robes.

The "Like" Button

I spent much of this week embroiled in a Bible Showdown on facebook. An old acquaintance who is very involved with the choral world at my college has become deeply involved in fundamentalist Catholicism (I’m not sure what type exactly, but one of the kinds that makes snide little remarks about Vatican II.) Wherever classical choral music is sung, gay folks and conservative Christians have to find a way to live together. In our choral world, this has been an enduring but uneasy détente. Political and religious views are kept off the listserv, due to the threat of mutually assured destruction.

Facebook has messed this up big-time – you can’t be a hardcore queer activist and hide it from your choir friends. You can’t be a hardcore Catholic fundamentalist and hide it from your choir friends. (Well, maybe you could, but even thinking about those privacy settings gives me a headache.) This Catholic fundamentalist, J, was offended at the jubilation on his newsfeed on the occasion of the New York state legislature passing marriage equality (WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!), which coincided with Pride weekend. On his wall, he shared his views about “sodomy,” urging his Catholic friends not to receive Communion until they have repented of their sodomy and/or approval thereof, and reminding his non-Catholic friends that we are all condemned to Hell. I went after him, and we went back and forth for a few days. We mostly talked past each other, since I don’t accept the authority of the Pope/Catholic Tradition, and he doesn’t believe I have the authority to interpret the Bible for myself. It’s over now, both because I have nothing more to say and because he has unfriended me, so I’m no longer able to post on his wall.

The point was not to change his mind. I don’t think I can change his mind.

I do honestly believe that God can transform people’s hearts, and I hope and pray for that for J. It is a beautiful and a powerful thing to see someone led out of homophobia, led out of a faith based on hatred and fear and exclusion. It is beautiful and powerful to see someone come to know a God who creates us unique and beautiful and loves us extravagantly and welcomes us with open arms. I’ve seen it happen.

God can do that. But it takes time. It takes more than a day, and more than a facebook thread. And J is probably not in a position to be able to hear anything right now from a female UCC pastor.

So why did I bother? Because it was the right thing to do. Because I cannot let someone speak hatred to my friends on behalf of my Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Because I am called to “proclaim the Gospel to all the world and resist the powers of evil.” Because I have heard too many stories of LGBTQetc folks who thought they had to choose between a church that condemns them or no church at all, because no one ever told them otherwise. And because someone on the internet was wrong.

I am still riled up. I’m scattered and distracted. I’m leaving in an hour for UCC General Synod and not yet packed. And I am so profoundly grateful.

My inbox is full of messages of encouragement and support, notes from dear friends and old acquaintances that remind me what a privilege and blessing it is to bring the good news:

“thanks for standing up for what's right...”

“Your work is making your queer and ally friends feel closer to, rather than alienated from, God. That is real ministry.”

“Thank you for being you - today and always.”

And I’m not even going to start on how many "likes" I've seen.

I am so grateful to have friends like this. It is hard and scary to do Bible Showdown. It feels terrible to be called a repulsive, blasphemous heretic. I’m way out on a limb, and I’m afraid I’ve lost some of my more conservative friends (not just J).

What a blessing to have my ministry affirmed, to know that I do not stand alone, to be reminded that people who need a good word are watching and listening.

I don’t get into internet fights in order to get street cred with my liberal friends. I do it because there are people – lots of people – who still think that J might be right, that God might hate them, that there’s no place for them in the Christian church. I do this for people who don’t know where they stand, don’t know how God could love them, don’t know whether to give up on faith altogether.

The people I’m trying to reach are the people who would never click the “like" button, let alone comment. But I couldn’t do it without my community. Messages and wall posts are little epistles, offering strength and solidarity when the world feels really hostile. Friends, thank YOU. Thank you for taking the time to reach out, for reminding me that what I’m doing matters, and for all the good work you all are doing out there. You give me hope.

Loving and welcoming God,

You have promised us courage in the struggle for justice and peace.

Thank you for the courage we receive from community, standing in solidarity in witness to your vision of extravagant welcome.

Bless us and strengthen us to do your work in the world today and every day.

I pray in the name of Jesus, who turns no one away.

Amen.

Prayers for the UMC

An ecclesiastical trial is being conducted this week in Wisconsin for Rev. Amy DeLong of the United Methodist Church, who is accused of being a “self-avowed practicing homosexual” and of celebrating a same-sex union.

There are lots of helpful articles out there: here is the website for Rev. DeLong’s supporters; this article gives some helpful background, and this article covers some UMC polity issues. A UMC clergy friend of mine is in Wisconsin and is blogging about what’s happening. You can read his most recent update here.

I have a lot of reactions, more a series of scattered thoughts than a single cohesive essay, but here they are anyway.

The phrase “self-avowed practicing homosexual”: it is disgusting. Let’s start with “practicing.” It assumes that our sexualities are something that we only have when we’re engaged in physical sexual intimacy. That is nonsense. NONSENSE. And if you don’t believe me, reflect on your teens. Thinking back on mine, it is clear to me that my “non-practicing” years were some of the most fervently heterosexual years of my life.

Also about “practicing”: take a look at 1 Corinthians 7. Paul is pretty into celibacy, no? And yet, he writes this in 1 Cor. 7:7: “I wish that all were as I myself am [i.e. single and celibate]. But each has a particular gift from God, one having one kind and another a different kind.” I’ve talked to some folks who do practice celibacy, and they’ve talked about how the decision not to have a spouse and children allows them more time and energy to devote themselves to ministry in the church and the world. Celibacy can work for some people. But even Saint Paul, celibacy’s head cheerleader, acknowledges that some people have the “gift” of celibacy and others do not. When a denomination rejects “self-avowed practicing homosexuals” from ordained ministry, they say that gay and lesbian folks with gifts for ministry and a calling to the ordained ministry cannot follow that calling unless they also have a gift for celibacy. That whole “gift of celibacy” idea has been pretty much disavowed for straight ministers, by the way. Celibacy for straight people is seen as kind of weird and backwards (except by the Catholic church).

Now about “self-avowed”… honesty and self-knowledge are crucial to good pastoral ministry. Honesty can co-exist with boundaries, of course – there are things that are true about my life and myself that I do not share with my congregants. But hiding my marital status would be completely beyond the pale. I can’t do good ministry by pretending to be someone else. And it would be hypocritical stand up in front of people and tell them that they are created, beloved children of God, unique and blessed, while lying to them or to myself about who I am. What church hierarchy in its right mind asks people to do that?

My friend mentions in his blog that one of the arguments the defense has made is that there is no actual evidence of “prohibited sexual activity.” If I understand that correctly, the implication is that Amy and her spouse may have refrained from sexual intimacy. This is an argument being made in an ecclesiastical court to try to help Amy retain her ordination. It's a lesser evil. But the idea that this would be seen as a positive thing is so irksome. (Of course, sociological evidence suggests that it may be a possibility.) Back to Saint Paul! “Do not deprive one another except perhaps by agreement for a set time, to devote yourselves to prayer, and then come together again” (1 Cor. 7:5a). Saint Paul said that! Saint Paul!

Okay, enough griping. There are some really beautiful things happening, as well.

Although the jury may be constrained to finding Rev. DeLong guilty (if I understand correctly, objecting to the rules on the ground of conscience is not considered a valid reason for a not-guilty verdict), they do have considerable leeway in setting a penalty, and the clergy of Northern Illinois have passed a non-binding agreement to recommend a maximum penalty of a 24-hour suspension. (Again, lesser evil.)

If you want to be filled with hope and joy that light shines in the midst of darkness, take a look at Rev. DeLong’s response to the charges against her. About some of the “evidence” against her, her certificate of domestic partnership and a thank-you note from the couple whose union she blessed, Rev. DeLong writes this: “these are precious documents, signs of a love and a ministry guided by the Gospel of Jesus Christ that I attend to with the deepest sincerity and commitment.”

I am so grateful for ministers like Rev. DeLong who are clear-headed and spirit-filled enough to preach the gospel with joy and integrity in the middle of such ugliness. Thanks be to God for her ministry and her witness! I pray for strength for Amy, her partner, family, friends, and supporters. I pray that the jury will be blessed with wisdom and courage. I pray that the UMC and the whole church may bear witness to God’s vision of love, justice, and extravagant welcome.

Daughters of Jerusalem

Last month, while traveling in Israel, I was wandering around the Old City. I didn’t have my bearings yet, but I happened to notice one of the stations of the cross: Station Eight, Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem.

A great number of the people followed him, and among them were women who were beating their breasts and wailing for him. ²⁸But Jesus turned to them and said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. ²⁹For the days are surely coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed.’ ³⁰Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us’; and to the hills, ‘Cover us.’ ³¹For if they do this when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?”

I paused, and prayed.

Then I decided to try to find the next few stations of the cross. On the way, I saw an open building with Russian writing on the door – the Church of St. Alexander, overseen by the Russian Orthodox Palestine Society. My guidebook said it was worth a look, so I went in.

After paying my donation (5 or 10 shekels - $2-3), I was told that in order to go any farther, I would need to put on a wrap skirt for the sake of modesty. I was wearing jeans. They were neither tight jeans nor skinny jeans. I tied a wrap skirt over them. What else could I do?

The church preserves some incredible ruins, including a massive city gate and the tiny Eye of the Needle next to it. A Russian Orthodox nun ceaselessly muttered prayers at the altar, standing in her stocking feet with a water bottle by her side.

I took some pictures, but I couldn’t focus. I was too angry. Angry at a world where women’s bodies -- my body -- are seen as problems to be covered up and controlled. Angry that my denim-clad legs are assumed to be an affront to the God who made them. Angry on behalf of the women whose cultures demand that they dress in long sleeves and full-length skirts and head scarves in the middle of the summer. Angry at the growing realization that my pilgrimage to Jerusalem would be marked, every single day, by men (always men) examining my clothing to decide whether I would be permitted to enter the places where Jesus ate and preached and was tried and tortured and crucified.

Jesus was crucified naked.

I wept for the daughters of Jerusalem.