Picnic for 5,000 -- FPC sermon excerpt

Mike Cross is a singer and story-teller that I first heard in college, and have been listening to ever since. I think he’s terrific … even though he went to the University of North Carolina.

Hey, nobody’s perfect.

One of his songs tells of a buzzard and a chicken hawk sitting on a fence. It’s a beautiful day, and they are watching some chickens playing in the farmyard. The chicken hawk gets excited, and says to the buzzard, “We ought to invite us a chicken home for supper.”

The buzzard gives him a long look, and then says with a frown, “The Lord will provide.”

The chicken hawk says, “Well, I’m hungry. My stomach is starting to rumble like a train.” He jumps up and says, “The Lord helps them that helps themselves, my friend.”

But the buzzard says, “No, the Lord will provide.”

Then the chicken hawk swoops down and starts a chasing a chicken, and the chicken begins squawking and running. The farmer comes out of the farmhouse, lifts his shotgun, and blows that chicken hawk out of the sky.

The buzzard stretches his head and takes a long look at the chicken hawk, lying on the ground. And you know what he says … “I knew the Lord would provide. Yes, the Lord will provide.”

That’s the teaching that comes from Psalm 23, and also from Matthew 14 — in which Jesus prepares a picnic for 5,000 mean, plus women and children. The Lord will provide.

It’s kind of amazing that Psalm 23 is as popular as it is, given the fact that most of us know very little about sheep and shepherds. I’m about as ignorant of sheep as I am of buzzards and chicken hawks. But in spite of this lack of knowledge, most of us feel a deep bond with Psalm 23, especially the first line, “The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want.” The promise of this psalm is that God gives us everything we need — food, drink, protection — and it challenges us to trust God to provide for us. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures” — that’s the promise of food for the sheep. “He leadeth me beside the still waters” — that’s drink. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” That’s protection.

Food, drink, protection. They are everything we need, and they all come from God.

The feeding of the 5,000 reminds us of God’s gift of manna to the ancient Hebrews, and it points forward toward the Last Supper, especially in Jesus blessing and breaking the loaves, and giving them to the disciples (Matthew 14:19). When we receive the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, we are sharing bread just as Jesus and the people did, gathered on the grass by the Sea of Galilee. We find that our spirits are filled by this meal, and that there is bread left over, just as there was when the miracle first occurred.

The message of this story is that the Lord does provide. When we find ourselves in a lonely and deserted place, Jesus meets us and has compassion for us. When we feel spiritually empty, Christ breaks his bread and feeds us. When we are worn out at the end of a long day, Jesus does not send us away to fend for ourselves. He invites us to lie down in green pastures, and he gives us what we need for life.

Catching the Wind -- FPC sermon excerpt

Wind power.

It can be an incredibly destructive force. The cyclone that hit Burma last week had winds of 120 miles per hour, causing floods and high tidal waves that led to heartbreaking loss of life.

But wind power can also be powerfully good, providing one of our most promising forms of renewable energy. With oil hitting 125 dollars per barrel, we need all the help we can get.

One problem with wind power is that it can be notoriously difficult to catch. The very best winds don’t tend to move at ground level — instead, they do their blowing six miles up in the air, at the height of the jet stream. At that level, the winds are stronger and blow more consistently, carrying up to a hundred times more energy.

So how can humans harness this power? Conventional turbines on the tops of towers won’t get us close enough. We really need to get creative. According to The Economist magazine (June 9, 2007), a company called Sky WindPower has developed a flying generator, one that looks like a cross between a kite and a helicopter. Picture an H-shaped frame with rotors at the ends of the four points, tethered to the ground by a long cable. The rotors provide lift, like the surface of a kite, and as they lift the frame they also turn dynamos that generate electricity. This electricity is then transmitted to the ground through aluminum cables.

But what happens if the wind stops blowing? Here’s the cool part: The dynamos can be used in reverse as electric motors. If the wind slows down, the dynamos turn the rotors to keep the generator in the air.

It seems that if you want to catch the wind, you have to put yourself where the wind is blowing.

I believe that the very same is true for the church. If we are going to tap the limitless energy of Holy Spirit wind power, then we are going to have to position ourselves correctly. Fortunately, the Book of Acts provides a blueprint for building a church that can catch this wind. It suggests that there are four points to put in place, kind of like the four points of a flying generator: Community, Communication, Courage, and Clarity. With these four points in the right place, we can feel “the rush of a violent wind” (Acts 2:2), and capture the energy of the Holy Spirit.

The resilient Religious Right -- USA TODAY, May 5, 2008

With the deaths of prominent evangelical pastors Jerry Falwell and D. James Kennedy last year, funeral bells began tolling for the Religious Right. Political columnist E.J. Dionne wrote Souled Out: Reclaiming Faith and Politics after the Religious Right, and theologian Jim Wallis offered The Great Awakening: Reviving Faith & Politics in a Post-Religious Right America. Even religious and civil liberties attorney John Whitehead, who assisted Paula Jone in her sexual harassment suit against President Clinton, joined the chorus with an article titled, "The Passing of the Christian Right."

These reports are at the very least premature, and in all likelihood dead wrong. High-profile leaders will come and go, but the strength and commitment of conservative Christians on the front lines of parish life are as strong as ever.

Roman Catholic priests still preach that parishioners must support pro-life candidates to be good Catholics, and Pope Benedict XVI, who visited the USA last month, has stressed that Catholic politicians who vote for legal abortion are subject to excommunication. Across the street from my church in Fairfax, Va., members of the Episcopal Truro Church are locked in a fierce legal battle with the Episcopal Church USA. The church is leaving the denomination over issues of scriptural authority and the ordination of gays and lesbians — particularly Gene Robinson, the gay bishop of New Hampshire. And my own denomination, the Presbyterian Church (USA), is losing congregations every year to more conservative Presbyterian groups.

In the case of Dionne's epitaph for the Religious Right, I think he is too quick to conclude that evangelical Christianity has become disentangled from politicians who trumpet opposition to gay marriage and abortion. For instance, John McCain has moved from not supporting a repeal of Roe v. Wade in 1999 to saying today it should be overturned. Why the shift? A clear desire to secure the Republican base's pro-life vote. Wallis writes that "the monologue of the Religious Right is indeed over." Perhaps it's no longer a monologue — especially with the emergence of the Religious Left — but it's still a powerful voting bloc directed more by its moral compass than any political one.

Despite the emerging narrative, I see no convincing evidence that we are entering a "post-Religious Right America," even though Iraq, immigration and health care are the talk of this election cycle — rather than abortion and gay marriage. And that's OK. In fact, I consider it good news for all believers: conservative, liberal or moderate.

Moral clarity vs. Christian charity

Conservatives such as evangelical pastor Rick Warren, author of The Purpose-Driven Life, might be broadening their focus to include environmental issues and poverty (good developments), but their core moral convictions remain strong and steadfast. Warren draws 22,000 worshipers to Saddleback Church in California every weekend, and he packed the house when he was a guest preacher at the Washington National Cathedral in January. His book has sold 25 million copies. Hardly the sign of a waning message.

Even if we were witnessing a decline in the Religious Right, such a development would not be reason for celebration among those who might stand comfortably under the umbrella of the Religious Left. Sure, conservatives consistently see religion in terms of moral clarity, while liberals focus on Christian charity. But both are important, and a creative tension between these two approaches helps ensure that religious life maintains its vitality.

Too often, Christians focus on winners and losers — both Dionne and Wallis do this — in a way that reflects partisan political struggles, instead of seeing conservatives and liberals as siblings in the family of faith. The real truth: Churches need both. They need conservatives who demand moral clarity, but also liberals who stress God's love for the oppressed of the earth. Conversation about immigration, for example, is enriched by both clarity about legal issues and charity toward undocumented workers. The Bible says, "Let every person be subject to the governing authorities (Romans 13:1)." But it also says, "You shall not wrong or oppress a resident alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt (Exodus 22:21)."

Unfortunately, in our politicized win-lose approach to the life of faith, critical points of view are lost when one group is judged to be a loser. When liberals are out of favor, conservative moral clarity can become an inward-looking, self-centered activity — one that neglects the work of social justice that began when God brought the Hebrews out of captivity in Egypt. But when conservatives are judged to be passe, as I fear they are now, then liberal charity can become an experience of wandering in the wilderness, guided only by feelings of compassion.

Richard Land, president of the Southern Baptist Convention's Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission, says evangelicals will not and should not abandon their prioritization of the sanctity of human life and the sanctity of marriage. "For evangelicals and conservative Catholics, the life issue and the marriage issue will trump all other issues," he told me. "They will not vote for pro-choice candidates who agree with them on other issues, against pro-life candidates."

Land may or may not be right. We'll see this November how many pro-life voters support the pro-choice Democratic candidate. But it's true that even though abortion is not as big a concern as Iraq in this year's election, nearly half of voters say they need to know a candidate's position on abortion before they vote. Clearly, abortion remains an important concern, one that has not disappeared from the priorities of religious conservatives. Nor has it been replaced by concerns about global poverty or stewardship of the earth.

'The whole bird'

The challenge for congregations is to take both liberals and conservatives seriously, and not write off or disparage the beliefs of either wing of the church. "I'm not left-wing, and I'm not right-wing," Warren often says. "I'm for the whole bird." Being a whole-bird Christian means accepting that moral clarity rises out of the covenant made between God and Abraham, when God said, "Walk before me, and be blameless (Genesis 17:1)." But it also requires affirming that charity is equally biblical, and grounded in the exodus of God's people from slavery in Egypt (Exodus 3:7-8). Thus, both clarity and charity should be seen as critical parts of a fully formed Christian faith.

A church can be a meeting ground — a place where people of diverse opinions and perspectives may gather, talk and even debate. I believe that church is the healthiest place for people to wrestle with difficult and divisive issues, such as immigration and abortion, because it is a community with a set of shared religious values. After a class on the importance of covenant and exodus in Christian life, church member Sharon Winstead said to me, "One side's rhetoric still makes me grit my teeth, but at least now my head is saying, 'They are being faithful to one interpretation of our religious heritage.' "

Such discussions in the church might not be comfortable, but they can lead to greater understanding.

Nearly 20 years ago, I wrote a review of Michael D'Antonio's book Fall from Grace: The Failed Crusade of the Christian Right. Despite the wishful thinking of some at the time, the Christian Right hadn't failed, and it cannot be pronounced dead today. Nor should it, because the right wing is just as important as the left wing for any bird that really wants to fly.

A Pope With A Talent for Clarity -- The Washington Post, April 13, 2008

Five hundred years ago, when Protestants were locked in a theological cage fight with the Church of Rome, Martin Luther described the papacy as "truly the kingdom of Babylon, yes, the kingdom of the real Antichrist!" But today, Protestants are more likely to praise the pope for his messages of moral clarity, and the incendiary language of the past is relegated to blogs such as "666, the Pope, Anti-Christ & Vatican -- for Dummies!"

As a Presbyterian pastor, I have respect for that would have been incomprehensible to Protestants of the past, and I won't be leading any protests when he visits Washington and celebrates Mass at on Thursday. In fact, I am convinced that he can help to provide an antidote to all that is fractured, fuzzy and cerebral about contemporary Protestant Christianity.

For starters, the pope is a symbol of the unity of the church. While I've heard it said that Baptists "multiply by division," forming new congregations every time a church splits, Catholics remain united under the leadership of the Bishop of . This is not to say that all Catholics agree with his teachings -- according to a survey from August 2007, 51 percent of American Catholics believe that abortion should be legal, 42 percent are in favor of gay marriage and 60 percent support the death penalty. But all do have a connection to the same Holy Father, and 66 percent say they would like to attend one of his public events.

Aside from the Archbishop of Canterbury, there is no other international figure who can take a stand for the unity of the Christian church -- a body that is now fractured into more than 33,000 distinct denominations in 238 countries. Unity is important for Christians who want to work together to fight AIDS, global poverty and the materialism of modern life.

I am also impressed by the fact that the pope speaks with remarkable clarity. Whether you agree with him or not, you have to admit that he is completely clear about where he stands. Pro-life. Pro-celibate priesthood. Anti-contraception. Anti-ordination of women. Even non-Christians admire him for holding on to strong beliefs in our morally wavering world. In contrast, my denomination opposes abortion in most cases, but supports the continued legality of the procedure -- a position that makes sense to me but leads some to criticize us for sending a fuzzy, mixed message. We Presbyterians need to communicate more clearly where we stand.

In addition, I envy the pope for his human touch. I was once given a humorous coffee mug that defines Protestantism in the following way: "It's the thought that counts." The same mug's definition of Catholicism: "Stop thinking those thoughts." A focus on "thought" is a problem for many overly cerebral Protestants, because Christianity has always been a very earthy religion, seeing Jesus as God in human flesh and Communion as the body and blood of Christ. While some may say, "The pope is only a man," others will say, "Exactly. That's the point." The pope is a human, representing God-in-human-form. There is power in his flesh-and-blood presence, in his ability to speak with visitors in their own languages, in his human touch. There is no equivalent in a Presbyterian Church that looks for leadership in a biennial General Assembly of pastors and elders.

For all of these reasons, I will not be bothered when the pope descends on Washington this week. To me, Benedict XVI is not the Antichrist, but a brother in Christ who can teach me lessons in how to offer my church unity, clarity and a powerful human touch.

Faith and Power -- The Presbyterian Outlook, March 31, 2008

"I don’t believe that change comes from the top down," Barack Obama has said throughout his presidential campaign. "It comes from the bottom up."

Voters are debating whether Obama has the experience necessary to be president, but he certainly has experience as a community organizer. In the mid-80s, he was hired by a small group of churches on the south side of Chicago to organize low-income people. He helped them to define their mutual interests, work together to change their communities, and improve their lives. He came to believe that real change comes "from the bottom up."

Presbyterian congregations are discovering this truth for themselves as they become involved in interfaith community organizing, but they face a big hurdle — getting comfortable with power. Many good-hearted people of faith, in my congregation and elsewhere, would rather provide charitable services than exercise influence on politicians. I rarely have trouble recruiting people to contribute canned goods to a food drive, or even volunteer to shelter the homeless in our church on cold winter nights. But inspiring people to join an interfaith "power organization?" That’s a tough sell.

I can certainly understand the resistance. Most people read the Bible and focus on commands to feed the hungry and clothe the naked, instead of the call of the prophets to seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow (Isaiah 1:17). The challenge to "seek justice" is less concrete than an invitation to serve a meal at a homeless shelter, and it sounds political — which raises the prospect of unpleasant divisions in the congregation.

But I’m discovering that interfaith community organizing can help people to expand their vision of religious action, and move beyond charity to justice. The process begins with building relationships across the lines of denomination, race, and economic level, and finding ways to speak with one voice about issues of common concern. When this is done successfully — as groups such as the Washington Interfaith Network (WIN) have done it — citizens stand up to politicians, clearly express their expectations, and then hold politicians accountable. There are now more than 170 of these congregation-based community organizations across the country, working on behalf the poor and the working poor, and all are helping people of faith to become comfortable with exercising power.

"There has been a false dichotomy between ‘spiritual power’ and ‘worldly power,’" says Janet Adair Hansen, pastor of Christ Presbyterian Church in Cortland, New York. "Once the faith community understands that expressing faith values in the public arena is a spiritual undertaking and not a ‘political’ one, there is a lot of energy unleashed."

Hansen is a member of a community organization called M.I.C.A.H. ("Moving in Congregations, Acting in Hope") that is working on issues such as healthcare for children, employment, and recreation programs for youth violence prevention. She likes that this involvement gets her out into the community with her church members, and appreciates the connections it creates with other congregations, saying, "We couldn’t begin to do this on our own as a small church in rural upstate New York."

Experienced community organizers tell me that strong relationships across congregational and denominational lines form the foundation of an effective power organization. Martin Trimble, the lead organizer of the Washington Interfaith Network, says, "You can only engage people if you understand their interests and values, and organize around their interests and values." As relationships deepen, people are able to talk about where they have a passion to work on issues affecting their families, their communities, and themselves.

In 2004, the Greater Boston Interfaith Organization began organizing around health care issues, based on concerns being raised by members of several Haitian Seventh Day Adventist congregations in Roxbury, and by members of Jewish synagogues in Newton and Brookline. A series of house meetings revealed that Haitian nursing home workers were frustrated by workplace conditions, and middle-aged Jews were equally frustrated by the quality of care that their parents in nursing homes were receiving. These diverse people of faith discovered shared interests in better care and better working conditions, and their organizing led to a nursing home "Resident and Care Worker Bill of Rights," as well as an "Advisory on the Rights of Immigrant Workers," sent by the state attorney general to the owners and administrators of every nursing home in Massachusetts. "Relational organizing creates a new kind of politics, one that does not view people stereotypically," says Trimble. "Instead, it engages their humanity."

Over the past four years, I have been working with an interfaith group to organize a religious network in Northern Virginia. In December 2007, representatives of several dozen congregations came together and chose a name for the organization: VOICE — "Virginians Organized for Interfaith Community Engagement." This multi-faith, multi-racial, non-partisan group made up of blacks, whites, Christians, Jews, Muslims, conservatives and moderates as well as liberals is determined to be a civic voice that can balance the political and business voices in the region. But its organizers have stressed the importance of developing personal relationships across racial and denominational barriers, and building a foundation of understanding and trust before we begin to identify the issues we need to address.

"For people to stay organized, they need a basis other than the issue du jour," observes Charles Uphaus, a retired Foreign Service development officer and member of Fairfax Church, who is active in this group. "That basis is established relationships. Without this, any movement is going to be ephemeral, and if it’s ephemeral, the political powers that be are not going to pay attention." Uphaus has seen effective organizing overseas, where poor communities have organized to get access to natural resources, and to acquire community services such as schools, drinking water, and police protection.

In Los Angeles, a congregation-based community organizing coalition called ONE-LA was founded on July 11, 2004, when more than 12,000 leaders from 100 institutions came together and committed themselves to an agenda of "Standing for Families." Since that founding convention, this organization has focused on building power, strengthening community, and celebrating public life, while members work together on issues such as education, neighborhood safety, health, housing, and immigration. In June 2006, Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa addressed a ONE-LA gathering and pledged to push through his reform plans for Los Angeles schools. When 1,400 people gather at such an event, politicians are motivated to take action.

Congregations across the country are discovering that change happens only through the exercise of power, and that community organizing is a faithful way for religious people to push politicians to work for the common good. In addition, organizing has the side benefit of drawing together different faiths, since social justice goals can unite people in a way that theology cannot. Christians, Jews, and Muslims will never agree on doctrines such as the divinity of Jesus Christ, but they can — and do — work together to exercise power on behalf of the poor.

Today, the political situation in Virginia is so balanced between Democrats and Republicans, Northern Virginia and rest-of-Virginia, that an interfaith group can actually have an influence on the political process. When one group dominates the debate in Richmond, political leaders don’t have to listen to interfaith community organizations; but when there is balance between parties or regions, both sides pay attention to what community groups are saying. Civic voices have their greatest influence when the balance of power can be easily tipped.

Barack Obama has said, "When you’ve got a working majority behind you, you can’t be stopped." It remains to be seen if such a statement will galvanize the nation. But on the local and state levels, interfaith organizations are trying to assemble a working majority as they build relationships, organize around shared interests and values, exercise power, and work to change their communities for the better — from the bottom up.

The Christian Woo -- FPC sermon excerpt

The rock-star Bono knows how to woo.

Back in 2000, he paid a visit to archconservative Senator Jesse Helms of North Carolina. Bono was lobbying for debt relief for Africa, and he entered the meeting prepared to throw a lot of facts and figures at the senator. But on the spot he switched to a completely different language, and began to talk religion with Jesse Helms. He focused on Jesus Christ’s deep concern for the sick and the poor. The conversation was incredibly fruitful, leading to an appropriation of 435 million dollars for debt relief.

It’s all about the woo.

Business professors Richard Shell and Mario Moussa have written a book called The Art of Woo. But what is woo? It’s a relationship art — the ability to win people over without coercion. Think invitation, or courtship. Charles Lindbergh needed woo in order to attract backers for his transatlantic flight. Nelson Mandela used it to lead a peaceful revolution in South Africa. Business leaders need to practice woo every day.

For Christians, evangelism involves the art of woo. Now evangelism is a scary word for many of us, but woo is something we can all learn how to do. The session at FPC has made a commitment to church growth this year, so we all need to learn how to woo our neighbors, and invite them to be part of this community of faith. Fortunately, Jesus gives us excellent guidance in today’s passage from Acts. He urges his apostles to woo when he says, “you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). Jesus is about to be lifted out of their sight in the Ascension, and he tells them “you will be my witnesses” — you will tell others what you have heard me say, and what you have seen me do. The Risen Jesus wants his followers to evangelize and win people over … without coercion.