Gun Violence and Faith

It has been almost a month, but the images seared into our minds in the days before Christmas 2012 have yet to fade. Perhaps they never will, perhaps they should not. Perhaps a society whose gun control laws are the most lax in the western world, needs to live with the images of pain and suffering and bereavement a while longer. Perhaps the searing memories will eventually awaken us from our moral slumber and we will discover that the lives of our brothers, sisters, parents, children and friends are more important than the gun industry’s right to sell firearms to everyone, no matter how unstable or unqualified, and that the second amendment to the U.S. Constitution is not the cornerstone of our freedom. Perhaps it is time for us to learn the freedom of faith.

Strangely, when looking for sources or church social statements on gun violence and gun control, I found them lacking. There are statements on sexuality, babies, children, justice, and just war, but the Church has been largely silent on the issue of guns and gun violence.  Yet, Jesus' words, his journey to Jerusalem, the image of the lamb standing over and against the oppressive power of Rome, his admonition to his disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane, his exhortation to turn the other cheek, and walk the extra mile, are unambiguous testimony that violence is not an acceptable response to violence; that arming ourselves with fists, clubs, swords and guns can never lead to the peace we so desire for our lives.  Nonviolence and loving our enemy are at the center of Jesus’ Gospel.

I suspect that one of the reasons for the lack of attention to the epidemic of gun violence in our culture is that the purveyors of rapture theology and its voyeuristic glorification of violence and war cannot escape the paradox of Jesus message and their own statements.  The popularity of the books by LaHaye and Jenkins among evangelical Christians suggests that many have bought into the survivalist mentality expressed in the books. As a result, these Christians believe they must arm themselves for the end times, and that any attempt to disenfranchise them of their right to bear arms is a sign that the devil and the end is near. However, rapture theology is not part of Roman Catholicism, Anglicanism, mainline Protestantism, or the Orthodox tradition, and yet little has been written or spoken by any of these major Christian Churches.

Without saying it directly, however, the Church did make a statement within the very context of the Newtown, CT tragedy. While some outlying religious leaders were quick to lay the tragedy at the feet of those who had taken prayer out of schools or allowed LGBT people marriage equality, local pastors, priests, rabbis and Imams gathered around the victims’ families to offer love’s unconditional support, and in so doing they both lifted up the victims and gave powerful testimony to the simple truth that violence cannot overcome the power of God’s love, so graciously poured out into the lives of every human being.

Early Christians lived in violent times. The Roman Empire earmarked them for extinction. There is hardly a child who hasn’t heard the stories of Christians being fed to the lions. In response did the early Christians create personal arsenals of knives and spears? Did they create a culture among themselves that sought to conquer violence with violence? Did they defend their rights by arming themselves with the latest in high tech weaponry?  No, they did as the rabbis, imams, pastors, and priests did in Newtown. They cared for one another and for their neighbors in very public and open ways and in private prayer and encouragement. They prayed with the bereaved, they broke bread with the broken hearted, they shared the Laments and Psalms, they offered communion  (koinonia) in order to heal the community, and throughout the church, they clung to the vision of Jesus the lamb who stood against the purveyors of violence, prayed for his persecutors, and sacrificed his life for the sake of the world. And in doing this they found joy.

The shootings in Newtown, CT happened in the midst of the preparations many of us were making for the Christian celebration of the Nativity, as well as the secular celebration, which, at the very least celebrates “peace and good will to all.”  The juxtaposition of such evil and violence to the celebration of the incarnation deepened the intensity of the pain. I was reminded of the words of Jeremiah, quoted in Matthew, “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they were no more.” In some sense, the Newtown tragedy was a modern reflection of Herod’s murder of the Innocents. In the midst of celebration and blessing the power of evil and violence wreaked vengeance. From the beginning of his earthly life, Jesus was confronted with the choice between violence and love, and though he had legions of angels who would come to defend him (Mt. 26.53), he chose to confront violence with self sacrificing love.

In the sixth chapter of the book of Revelation we read, “Now I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures say, as with a voice of thunder, ‘Come!’ And I saw, and behold, a white horse, and its rider had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer.” Does this verse mean that in our own age, as a people waiting with hope for Christ’s return that we also need to turn to violence in hope of conquering violence? Certainly not if the broad sweep of the Gospels, Letters, and Revelation are considered. Chapter twelve of Revelation declares of God’s people that, “They have conquered by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they did not cling to life in the face of death.”  Being disciples of Jesus, we do not achieve victory by violence or shedding the blood of others, but by identifying fully with the blood of Jesus that was shed when he was crucified. In addition, disciples are to conquer by our testimony; i.e., by our willingness to stand in the center of violence and remain as non violent as Jesus remained before the Romans.

What the imagery of these verses call into question is whether Christians can cling to both their guns and their faith. Let’s not be silly here. We’re not talking about anyone’s right to hunt, or sport shooting, we’re talking about the belief that guns will deliver us from evil. John, the writer of Revelation did not believe so; his book is clear testimony against our violent tendencies. Jesus did not think so either. His willingness to die on the cross, his own blood offered up against violence, and the testimony of his mouth is what (in the book of Revelation) defeats evil and violence.

So, while Christians and non Christians seem to be arming themselves to the teeth in the aftermath of the Newtown massacre, and the possibility of tighter gun control, I will continue to trust in the testimony of Jesus own life, death and Resurrection. I will not succumb to the message that arming our citizens with guns will lead to the defeat of the bad guys in our society.  Statistics and history have already destroyed that message. I also refuse to give into the notion that it is too late, that nothing can be done. 

It is said of Martin Luther that if he knew the world was going to end tomorrow, he would go out and plant a tree. I hope to do the same. It is time to plant the seeds of a less violent society. It is time to ask what will have precedence in our lives when our “rights” clash with our faith. It is time to fathom what St. Paul means when he says, “’All things are lawful for me,’ but not all things are helpful. ‘All things are lawful for me,’ but I will not be enslaved by anything.”  It may be a long while before we see the results of any efforts to bring gun violence under control. As a society we have bought into the vision of violence overcoming violence. It will take a long time and a lot of work before that vision fades. But perhaps when it does begin to fade, the images of Newtown will begin to fade. With inherent sadness I must say that perhaps it is justice, that the Newtown images will remain fresh until we adopt a less violent vision,-- and they will do so not because we have good memories, but we will live them over and again in other places.

Even as we begin a new year, and the season of Epiphany has just begun, we look to the Resurrection. The Lamb has overcome the lion, and love wins.

Thanksgiving 2012

As I was finishing up gathering leaves a few weeks ago, under a bright blue October sky,  I stopped to contemplate the scene. As the annual spectacle played out, I could not help but marvel and take delight in the particular surprises of this years autumnal offerings. The woods were on fire with color this year and the smells, at least on that day stirred up memories of other autumns and people associated with them.
People began to flood into my memory. People from childhood, from high school and college, people I haven't seen in decades, people who have long since passed away, and people I've met only recently. In my memory I was walking down Swain Avenue in Meriden, CT, on the middle leg of a 20 mile CROP hunger walk. It was autumn, and the day was equally crisp and bright. That was a great day. So many people cared. (Modern crop walks seem to be about 5k, kids were tougher back then.) That vision gave way to another autumn; mushroom hunting in the woods near Merimere Resevoir with my brothers and friends. I was willing to join in the hunt, but I confess to a lack of confidence when it came to eating our finds. Then I was at Pacific Lutheran University, in Tingelstad Hall on the fifth floor, sitting in the window sill, looking at the afternoon sun turning the snow fields of Mt. Rainier bright orange. Autumn images kept coming. There was Mt. Monadnock with a group of youth from Pilgrim Lutheran Church on a warm autumn day, and a golden view of the Great Gulf  from the top of Mt. Washington with Paula, and then I was riding my bike up to the summit of Mt. Greylock. The  sound of the wind in the trees was haunting and I recalled that the Mahicans revered the mountain and believed it was holy ground. (The five state view was worth the ride that day.)
Amid the flood of autumn memories, it is the people I remember the most. My grandfather Brenner and his friend Herman Gritz came to mind, crisp autumn air blowing in the doors of the church on Sunday morning as they ushered together. Walking with Prs. Fred McGee and Jack Kidder in the state forest in Colebrook, CT. Fishing on Long Pond in Maine with my brother, Gary (his ink and watercolor of the small fishing camp graces our fireplace mantel). Then there was fishing for Bluefish aboard the Hellcat on a choppy fall day off of Block Island. Paula and I were dating, and she learned a whole new language from the seasick fishermen; we caught some nice Bluefish too. Next, I was in Paula's parent's backyard watching young sons Stefen and Daniel "help" their grandfather rake leaves; and from there, my mind wandered to the Cumberland County (ME) fair. Grandparents, parents and children watching the Royal Canadian Mounties perform their equestrian show, and then over to the John Deere tractors. (Although both of Paula's parents have passed, I am sure our boys will carry their memories all their days.) Then I'm with my son Daniel, bushwhacking up Widow Whites peak (near Jiminy Peak in the Berkshires) exploring for cave formations. (Dan is a caver.) In the blink of an eye I'm at Immanuel Lutheran Church 40 years ago in the old parish building, another fall day. Food is being prepared. Ernie and Bettie Garbe are in the kitchen, as are Charlie and Charlotte Gardinier. There are cartons of milk from Sievert's Dairy Farm in the kitchen. Ken Ritchie comes to mind with a whole Confirmation Class of faces. Now I'm with Paula again, and we're hiking the trail toward the summit of Sleeping Giant state park. Goldenyellow leaves carpet the ground. We had driven up from Yale Divinity School for some relaxation...
The sound of a truck finally stirred me from contemplation and it was time to finish gathering up the leaves.
Yet, I am so thankful for the vision; for the wonderful memories of times and seasons gone by, for the faces of friends I haven't seen in years, who have had their own influence on my life, for laughter and love shared, for once in lifetime moments that cannot be re created, but will be remembered till I can't remember anymore. For parents and grandparents and the blessing of my beautiful Paula and our children, for harvest banquets that are cherished more with each passing year. O God, how marvelous are the works of your hands. How blessed are the thoughts you stir, the times you create, the love you pour out, and the memories with which you bless us. My heart is grateful; make it more so.
I hope each of you discovers a thousand reasons to be grateful and give thanks as you contemplate the seasons of your own lives.

Thanksgiving blessings to all, and

Peace.

Choices

A Journey of Years

In a previous blog I shared that the congregation I serve is a caring and loving place that accepts all people as they are, and that I, as a pastor, and as a person, would rather err on the side of grace. Shortly after I wrote that piece and posted it, my words were put to the test. A gay couple who have been vital members of the congregation for years asked me to preside at their wedding here in New Hampshire (a gay marriage state). I responded immediately by saying that indeed, I would perform their wedding.

My decision is the end result of many years of reading scripture, meditation, prayer, and conversation with trusted friends, family, and colleagues. My decision was certainly not immediate. As little as two years ago, I did not see myself ever presiding at a gay wedding. I was one who advocated that prior to sanctioning LGBT weddings, the Church should revisit the Doctrine of Creation, and clearly espouse a justification for reinterpreting a long held doctrine. Even though the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America opened the door to LGBT pastors in committed relationships, and the possibility of weddings in 2009, to date, no rite exists as for such a practice, so that those of us who choose to do such a wedding are largely on our own (and could face discipline).

I have come to the conclusion (as many others before me I suppose) that much of our visceral reaction to homosexuality has to do with its threat to patriarchal society in general, and to male dignity in particular. Despite a few passages in the Levitical code found in Exodus and a few sentences written by St. Paul, which we take largely out of context, the Scriptures do not create hostility to homosexuality. It has been hostility to homosexuality that has all to often prompted Christians to eisogete into the Scriptures our own fundamental prejudice and fear. Let's be clear; Christians have long since banished most of the Levitical code with the understanding that the code's concerns (for example the ban on eating shellfish which had more to do with the order of creation than sin or cleanliness) are not concerns that can be carried into the modern world.  In most areas of our lives, my Lutheran brothers and sisters have moved beyond biblical literalism. No one is suggesting we turn the clock back to accept slavery, and most of us long ago acknowledged the tremendous contributions to the life of the church brought about by the ordination of women. Yet, the prohibitions against homosexual activity have remained.

One can certainly understand ancient Israel's prohibition of homosexual activity. The twelve tribes were infinitesimally small in comparison with the nations that surrounded them. Every body, every birth counted. Having children was a sacred national duty, and failure to participate was a treasonous abomination. Thus, barren women were much to be pitied and held in contempt, and homosexual activity was proscribed.

For me it has come down to this: I have come to realize that it is no longer my my task as a person or a pastor to try any longer to reconcile homosexuality with scriptural passages that condemn it (that work has been more than accomplished by more worthy scholars), but how to reconcile the continuing persecution, punishment and rejection of LGBT people with the love of Christ, and the Doctrine of Justification.  More and more I have lived through it and realized the disconnect.  I have written of the Westboro church on a previous occasion, but their hatred and hostility toward the LGBT community further clarified a moral dilemma. How can a church, or an individual, bear witness to the ever widening circle of Christ's love as witnessed by the Gospels, Acts, and the letters of Peter, John and Paul (even considering Paul's prohibition of unnatural relations) and espouse such hatred for any group of people? The two positions are irreconcilable. We're left with discerning what the norm is for Christian life. In order to do this, we move beyond visceral reactions, we move beyond what is "natural" or acceptable, we look beyond the law that condemns us, to the heart of faith: the love of God in the Incarnate Lord Jesus Christ that saves. The Gospel.

Everyone is fond of quoting John 3: 16, "For God so loved the world...," but alongside this we can lay 1 John 4:17-21, "Those who say, 'I love God,' and hate their brothers and sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from Jesus is this; those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also." The church has not always carried out this commandment, and while we can find fault with some on the Christian right (as it is known), the wider church throughout history has sown the seeds of disrespect and hatred for LGBT people, in such a way, that it should hardly surprise anyone that some people have chosen to use church teaching as the foundation to legitimize violence and hatred. I must admit, that over the past several years, I have found myself wondering how much responsibility the church must bear; how much responsibility I must bear for the epidemic of young gay and lesbian people who have committed suicide. We have, all too often, by our silence, given tacit approval to a heinous injustice. I have also, along with many of you heard the mantra that God "hates the sin" but "loves the sinner." Unfortunately, those who have been beaten, abused and even murdered, did not receive the ministrations of individuals acting in the name of a loving God.

In the end, I have come to the conclusion that if my ministry is going to have any integrity, if I am going to be any kind of vessel of the faith of the church, if I am going to exhibit any of the qualities in my life that do honor to the love of Christ that has been poured out so gracefully to me, --someone's sexual orientation cannot matter. Our relationships should be judged by their inner worth, by their spiritual breadth and depth, and not by the accidents (in the theological sense) of sexuality. There is nothing in Scripture that confines love; life giving and life affirming love, to the heterosexual community. It is God's own possession bestowed on all.

As intimated above, The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, the church in which I am ordained moved beyond biblical literalism a long time ago (a discussion of literalism must be reserved for another day). Is there anyone eschewing pork these days? Historically, this church has played a significant role in the anti slavery movement, and we moved far beyond literalism with the ordination of women. It is, in my humble estimation, long past time that we did so for the LGBT community.

"And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice..." (Micah  6:8)
Walter Brueggmann wrote, "Justice is to sort out what belongs to whom, and to return it to them."
Justice redefines the world. To do justice is to intervene in the workings of the powers and principalities of the world as Moses did with Pharaoh when he insisted on freedom for the Hebrew slaves. Justice is Nathan standing before King David and protesting David's murder of Uriah the Hittite. Justice is Elijah calling out Ahab and Jezebel for killing Naboth and stealing his vineyard. Justice is Jesus welcoming to the table tax collectors and sinners. Justice is Jesus at the well of Sychar welcoming a lost child of God back into the community. Justice may be our realization that Scripture does not create hostility to homosexuality, but that our hostility to homosexuals has been projected onto Scripture. Justice is saying that we cannot qualify the love of Christ poured into the human heart. Justice may be recognizing again, for another group of people, that what God has made clean, we may not call unclean. Justice may be saying to these people as well, "what God has joined together let no one put asunder."

I will be sharing more as time goes on.

Peace,

Pastor Boehringer

Resurrection

In Diana Butler Bass' recent book, Christianity After Religion:The End of Church and the Birth of a New Spiritual Awakening, she quotes a note from a woman who left her church some 25 years ago. The woman's reason for leaving the church was that she was tired of belonging to a church that was anti woman, anti gay, anti science, anti environment, seemingly anti everything. In addition, she found the (her) church to be extremely self righteous and judgmental. Brothers and sisters, that was twenty five years ago. Yet, I must say that if I were an outsider hearing some of the pronouncements that have come out of various church groups in the last couple of years, and the past few months in particular, I would have to agree with the writer of the note. One church group travels all over the country espousing anti gay rhetoric, another opposes an individual woman's right to make her own choices in regard to her health care, still others oppose the settled science of evolution, while another tells its people that the "theory" of "global warming" is the work of Satan. Christianist Pat Robertson recently claimed that being gay was a type of demonic possession.

Given that the media is always in search of a titillating sound byte, it is usually these types of pronouncements from churches that get print space and air time, and as a result, those who are on the outside of the church can only surmise that churches must be houses filled with uninformed, ignorant, bigoted haters. Obviously, I have doubts that the typical individual distinguishes between churches when they hear such hurtful rhetoric. I imagine that the reaction to such judgment and condemnation is to wonder why anyone would join an organization that condemns so many people, including, perhaps, my own wife, my friends, family, and a good many acquaintances.

As a pastor, I have a sense that for months and years the pronouncements of these churches have been destructive both to people's lives, as well as to the life of the church, and in many cases they are a complete distortion of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. As a nephew might say, the church is prone to "foot bullets." I believe that the message of militant exclusivity preached by some of these churches is in stark contrast to the inclusive message found in the Gospels. Everyone is familiar with John 3:16, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.", but few can quote the following verse, "Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him." The very inclusive nature of the Gospel can certainly also be seen in John 8:1 ff. The Pharisees brought to Jesus a woman caught in adultery, reminding Jesus that the law called for her to be stoned to death. Jesus responded by first bending to the ground and writing all of their sins in the dust, and then rising said, " 'Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.' When they had all departed in shame, Jesus said to the woman, 'Woman where are they?' Has no one condemned you?' She said, 'No one, sir.' And Jesus said, 'Neither do I condemn you. Go you way, and from now on do not sin again.'" Again, in John 12:47 we read, "I do not judge anyone who hears my words and does not keep them, for I came not to judge the world, but to save the world." Jesus went on to say that God's Word serves as our judge on the last day.

Personally, I hope that in all things regarding ministry to err on the side of grace. With the Gospels strewn with examples of Jesus always widening the circle of inclusivity, I believe we have a mandate to do the same; and there is something wrong, I believe, in an image in which a sheep is consigned to a wilderness of death because I have decided, they are beyond the reach of Jesus' love and grace.

So, let me tell you about my church and the congregation I serve. My church welcomes all people. As a brother pastor recently said, we all stand at the foot of the cross in need of the very life Jesus died to give us. In this church, women are supported, and are at the very center of the life of the church. My bishop is a woman, so we obviously ordain women to be pastors, my Congregation Council vice president is a woman, and a short time ago, a woman was our president. Women serve in every capacity in this church, and we do not tell women what to do; we counsel with them as with all people, providing pastoral and spiritual support when they are in crisis, and support them in their decisions. In thirty years of being a pastor, I can share that every woman who has ever come to me for pastoral guidance has with a seriousness that is beyond admirable faithfully wrestled with whatever question was before them.

The Church in which I am a pastor ordains gay and lesbian people to be pastors. I confess my skepticisms as to how this would work out, (especially the acceptance issue), but these men and women have in no small measure been a blessing to the church. In the parish I serve, the LGBT community is not only welcome, but it is hard to imagine the congregation without them; not because of their gender or sexual orientation, but because of who they are as people and the gifts they bring to our common life. And I like to think we give them something in return,- namely unconditional love.

This church is not anti environment or anti science. Each time there is a new scientific discovery; a new medicine, a new species found, a new theory proposed about the beginning of the universe, Lutherans tend to sit back and marvel anew at God's creative power. Indeed, for us, each new discovery points towards God's majesty. If you would like to know more about what we believe about environmentalism, and global climate change, enter http://www.lutheransrestoringcreation.org/ into your browser and you will find that for us, environmental stewardship is a major concern that grows out of our love for all of God's good creation. Even if there were not an environmental crisis, we believe that we have a responsibility and privilege to care for creation.

In a very large and real way, the Church in which I am a pastor does not tell people what they should do, or how they should behave, nor does it judge them. Instead, my church invites people to engage with Scripture, enter into spiritual discipline, participate in the mystery of the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ in the Sacraments, and faithfully struggle with all of the difficult issues that we face together, but in all of this, and perhaps most importantly, this Church, and the congregation I serve are communities of joy, hope, renewal, and new life. The people in my congregation are a remarkable community that welcomes everyone who manages to find us (which, admittedly is not always easy). We are an Easter congregation. We recognize that a good part of the world, and far to many churches continually live out Good Friday, but here, in this place, Good Friday continually gives way to the joy and grace of the Resurrection of our Lord. We fully recognize that Easter faith is not a possession, but a gift, and one to be shared.

On the first Easter Sunday Morning, Mary Magdalene stood weeping outside the tomb because she believed that Jesus was not only dead, but that his body had been taken. "Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, 'Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.' Jesus said to her, 'Mary!'" Jesus called her by name and sent her on her way rejoicing with the good news she shared with the disciples, "I have seen the Lord." (John 20:11 ff.)
It was for Mary and the Church a moment of joy, but a moment in which we continually live. That describes the congregation here. We live in Easter joy, welcoming and sharing the good news with everyone and allowing it to inspire us to care for sisters and brothers all over the world as well as the earth itself. I believe this is what Jesus would have us do. And because we live out this call, we just don't have time to judge people,...go figure. This is the church I want people to know about, the church Jesus intends us to be, the church in which Jesus' own words are always heard, "Come to me all you are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble of heart, and you will find rest for your souls. for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)
We are by no means perfect, but through the cross and resurrection we are forgiven, and that is a joy we share with everyone.

Easter Blessings to this good parish, family, friends and seekers,
Peace,
Pastor Boehringer

Advent 2011

Twelfth Night

No night could be darker than this night
No cold, so cold,
As the blood snaps like a wire,
and the heart sap stills,
and the year seems defeated.

Never again, it seems will green things run,
or sky birds fly
or the grass exhale its humming breath
powdered with Pimpernels,
from this dark lung of winter.

Yet here are lessons for the final mile
of pilgrim kings,
the mile still left when all have reached
their tether's end: that mile
where the child lies hid.

For see, beneath the hand, the earth already
warms and glows;
for men with shepherd's eyes, there are
signs in the dark, the turning stars,
the lamb's returning time.

Out of this utter death he's born again,
his birth, our saviour;
from terror's equinox he climbs and grows,
drawing his finger's light across our blood
the son of heaven and the son of God.


This dramatic Christmas poem by Laurie Lee (Lawrence Edward Alan "Laurie" Lee) is one of my favorites of the Advent/Christmas/Epiphany cycle. In 1968, Samuel Barber composed music for it which adds depth to the poem's nuances. Many years ago, when I attended Pacific Lutheran University, it was the first piece sung by the Choir of the West in the Christmas concert. In my mind, it rivals Barber's setting of the Agnus Dei, the choral setting of his Adagio for Strings. (both Twelfth Night and Agnus Dei can be found on YouTube).
In a way that I have never been able, Laurie Lee gets to the heart of the matter. He touches the often profound depression that comes to us as the Winter solstice draws near; as the earth seems to be in the final throes of death, and our last energy is sapped. Too much, as we prepare for Christmas, our spiritual energy is dissipated by the weight of the world, the high expectations we set for ourselves and those that are imposed upon us by the powers and principalities. Too many in these northern climbs, experience the loss of any sense of life as the sunlight dims and the earth grows cold, and the depression is compounded by a season that seems to demand jocularity. I wonder at times, how to get past the expectations and the depression, to discover the deeper meaning of what is unfolding before us.
In the ancient church, the Third Sunday of Advent, was known as Gaudete Sunday. The Sunday gets it's name and theme from the Latin Gaudete in Domino Semper (Rejoice in the Lord always [Philippians 4:4ff]). While the church has moved away from the penitential nature of Advent to a theme of preparation, the texts and the day are still infused with joy. It is the recovery of true joy that will end the dissipation and much of the depression associated with this season, and the time of year. Here is the thing. In order for us to recover the joy, we have to change our expections; we need to rediscover "that mile where the child lies hid." For, most certainly, the child is often hidden behind a myriad of facades that have usurped and twisted the joy we should experience, into something grotesque and indistinguishable. Let's face it, when someone decides that using pepper spray on other Christmas shoppers to keep them away from their hoard is appropriate, something has gone terribly wrong.
So we need to discern where our joy is truly going to be found. Perhaps Laurie Lee has it exactly right; it is when we reach "our tether's end", when we are finally overwhelmed with demands, expectations, depression, and anxiety that we at last begin to look for "signs in the dark, the turning stars," that signal new birth. Sometimes it simply seems that it is part of human nature to wait until darkness is deepest before we begin searching for light.
I hope that all of us, can, during this Advent season find the time to contemplate what "the lamb's returning time" means for us. To each, it is perhaps something different, yet I believe there are meanings that are shared by all. Out of all these, we will find the joy that unites us, heals our common humanity and makes us whole. And, discovering the oft obscured vision of the son of heaven, we will have something that is worthy of being received and given.

Christmas Blessings to all,

Pastor Boehringer

Creation and Thanksgiving

The recent GOP debates and the coming of Thanksgiving have given me pause to ponder, once again, the differences between what Lutherans profess in regard to creation and our place in creation, and what some of the more fundamentalist brethren espouse. The comments of Governor Perry, Congresswoman Bachmann, and Herman Cain, in particular, diverge markedly from what many Christians believe. I don't think it is possible for me to explain their theology, but the moment provides an opportunity to discuss science, creation, and our faith perspective.

There seems to be a strain of fundamentalist theology that has created a parallel world in which Biblical literalism and anti intellectualism have combined; a world in which scientific discovery is at odds with a forced literal interpretation of the creation story as it is told in Genesis.
Lutherans on the other hand have a creation centered theology that is oriented to celebrate the gifts of creation. We affirm God as creator of all things while affirming science as one of the means God has given us in order to understand and be at home in the universe. Our theology of the cross invites us to be in solidarity with a creation "that groans in travail." We also have a deeply incarnational theology that cherishes the presence of God in all reality. And when Lutherans speak of redemption, it is not only personal, it extends to the restoration of all creation. Ultimately, for Lutherans, redemption is "new creation." We are a people that sees the future always moving toward the fulfilment of creation. In the 21st chapter of the Book of Revelation, John writes of a "new heaven" and "a new earth". John is pretty clear; when Jesus comes again, the earth will be redeemed, not destroyed. Since this is God's intention, we believe that we have an ethical responsibility to care for creation.
We also understand that the church exists for the sake of the world. Through the ages this has meant many things. Today, in a time of clear ecological crisis "existing for the sake of the world" means doing all that we can as stewards to protect God's good creation from further degradation. Each of us is called to live out our vocation in such a way that we serve and preserve the earth. It is no longer a question of whether or not we can afford something, but a question of whether or no it is the best use of limited resources. Within the last 200 years, mankind has moved from using less than the renewable and sustainable amount of the earth's resources to using two and a half times what the earth can sustain. We are simply overwhelming the earth's ability to recover from our overuse of resources. We believe that each of us has a role to play in restoring the balance.
As Thanksgiving approaches an interesting ethical dilemma arises. How does one thank God for the giftedness of our lives, and for the goodness of creation while at the same time continuing to allow and participate in the ongoing destruction of the very creation from which God satisfies our needs? It is not a question easily answered, and turning things around is going to be a long and difficult struggle. However, Lutherans do not have an escapist theology. We don't believe that we are going to be raptured away from the earth when things get bad. (I hope you all know that the rapture as it is proposed by some is simply not Biblical.) Rather, we believe that Christ is present with us in the struggle, and as we engage ourselves in the healing process the Holy Spirit will bless our efforts.
The point is, that Thanksgiving may be a good time to assess what you are doing (or not) in terms of earth care and discerning some small steps that you can take to express your solidarity with God's creation.
I am not so naive as to believe that our small steps will solve all of the issues we face, but it will be the small steps and the changes that take place in our hearts and minds that will ultimately lead to greater things. Blessings to all as Thanksgiving approaches and may all the earth be blessed by your actions.
Happy Thanksgiving!

Meditating on September 11, 2001

It is difficult to believe that ten years have passed since the attacks that took place on September 11, 2001. The memories are still fresh and raw; almost everyone remembers exactly where they were and what they were doing when they first heard the news. Most seem to have a deeply personal story associated with that day or its aftermath, stories of lost friends or loved ones, stories of incredible heroism, stories of peril and sadness. The stories have yet to lose their sharp edges; perhaps they never will.
Osama Bin Laden and the wicked men who hijacked three airliners not only killed 3000 people, they also haunted and terrified the rest of the world. Each time we go to the airport and are forced to remove our shoes, belts, and go through body scans and humiliating searches, the haunting continues.
The aftermath of the events of that day on this country and the rest of the world have been profound. Many people, especially those who are personally connected to the three hijackings have had their lives forever altered and tinged with undying grief. When we travel, most of us turn a wary eye on anyone who doesn't quite fit the norm and we have all learned a vocabulary that was incomprehensible just ten years ago. We have learned about pre emptive war, enhanced interrogation techniques, extra ordinary rendition, threat levels, enemy combatants, drone attacks, the Patriot Act, Homeland Security Administration, victim compensation, undisclosed location, shoe bombers, black ops, and a host of other terms that have entered our vocabulary and changed our lives.
There are common threads that have run through these years; some have been positive, others destructive. The determination to repair and rebuild after the attacks has brought much in the way of healing to many. The ongoing effort to find those responsible and bring them to justice while working to be certain that such attacks cannot happen again has woven itself into the fabric of our lives. One thread that is disturbing is that we now have two generations of children who have not known much else than that our nation is always at war. Their lives have been shaped by the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and to many of them the world seems a threatening place.
There was a time in the immediate aftermath of the attacks when many people felt both angry and powerless. They couldn't go to New York, or Pennsylvania, or Washington, D. C. to lend their aid. Osama Bin Laden proved elusive, and getting revenge or justice was not going to come easily or quickly. The best we could hope is that one day justice would be done. We were legitimately angry about what had taken place and the outlets for that anger were few.
Christian theologians from Aquinas to Bonhoeffer have written about the legitimacy of anger regarding injustice. Such anger often ignites the passion that leads to working for justice. Martin Luther King railed against the injustice of racial discrimination and prejudice. Nelson Mandella put his life on the line to work for the end of apartheid in South Africa. Pope John Paul II confronted the communists who were destroying the economy and morality of Poland. The anger of each was indeed justified.
The Bible also speaks about God's righteous anger at those who flout justice, oppress the poor, commit murder and plunder the people. Yet, God doesn't go off on an emotional tirade. Instead, God consistently works to bring justice to a world that misses the mark. The Law, the Prophets and the Incarnation itself clearly demonstrate God's deep concern for justice. However, there is a fine line between righteous anger that works itself out in constructive change and justice, and anger that turns into an irrational and passionate desire for retribution and vengeance. This type of anger can lead lead to what some have called "one of the seven deadly sins." Martin Luther King did not want to kill white Americans, he wanted to change turn their thinking and their hearts around. Mandella didn't want to exterminate the perpetrators of apartheid, but insisted that every South African recieve the same rights and dignity. Pope John Paul II didn't hate the communists, but he wanted them to end a system that degraded the people's lives. The anger and desire for justice of each of these was suffused with love that sought a positive future for everyone. This is the place where the radical forgiveness described by and demonstrated by Jesus own life, impinges upon our anger, our desire for justice, and our selfish need for vengeance.
The appointed Gospel for the thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, which coincides with September 11th, has Jesus telling the parable of the unforgiving servant (Matthew 18:21-35). In Jesus' radical way of looking at reconciliation, the work of forgiveness becomes the mutual responsibility of the offended one, to draw the offender back into the community or back into relationship. It is a refusal, born out of love, to give up even on those who have offended us most deeply, caused the greatest pain, and perhaps, have the potential to cause harm again. Yet the cross itself attests to the absolute nature of Jesus' radical claim. ("Father forgive them...")
Jesus' radical response to Peter, in the aftermath of the events of ten years ago, may make us uncomfortable. There was, and remains, legitimate anger and a desire for justice that remains in the aftermath of those days. However, as recipients of forgiveness and agents of this same grace, we are called to put away our claims for vengeance and to work for reconciliation. It remains our calling that love be more than a wish; that it be the work we take up as an essential part of our life in Christ.
In the ten years since the attacks, much healing has taken place. Memorials have been built at each of the sites and while remembering those who were lost, people have begun rebuilding their lives.
Leaving New York harbor a couple of weeks ago the sight of the new Freedom Tower was a tangible sign of the rebuilding and healing that is taking place. The cranes rising up its sides seemed to be resetting the very bones of the city. Returning the following week in the pre dawn darkness the statue of Liberty still shown her welcoming light, a continuing testament to one of the nations foundational ideals. Healing, however, will be complete when the desire for vengeance has breathed its last, when each of us can look into the face of the most unseemly stranger, the most foreign visitor, and without reservation desire that God will bless them and hold them in love.