Yeah, right, Jesus

This coming Sunday is All Saints,  a holiday that is sometimes ignored, overlooked, or misunderstood among Methodists (and others).  In his journal on November 1, 1767, John Wesley called it "a festival I truly love." Elsewhere he called it "a day that I peculiarly love" and a "comfortable day."  There is a fairly predictable lectionary reading for Sunday from Revelation, but perhaps not so obvious is the inclusion of Matthew's version of the Beatitudes, verses we've all heard, read, said, and sung until we don't perhaps grasp their radical message anymore, but it makes sense that we read them for All Saints because they serve as a sort of "job description" for everyone striving to be a saint.

I just participated in an online lectio divina in which these verses were read three times, once from the NRSV, once from the NIV, and once from The Message, and the leader prompted us with various questions.  In lectio divina, the first thing you do is listen for a word or phrase that jumps out at you and ponder it in various ways with successive readings/ hearings of the passage.  

I kept circling around the idea of "blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth," partly because Charles Wesley's hymn "Gentle Jesus, Meek and Mild" got stuck in my head and partly because that word "meek" is understood so pejoratively in our time.  It's become identified with the idea of being taken advantage of while gamely smiling all the time or of being humiliated or abused but taking it on the chin because of some great future reward being dangled in front of you.  The leader of our meditative reflection suggested we think of a sermon title or a heading we would give the Beatitudes, and when she said it need not be a "religious" or "pious-sounding" title, my immediate thought was, "Yeah, right, Jesus!" 

I wonder if the anonymous saints (or the famous ones, for that matter) that we will remember this coming Sunday felt blessed when they were faced with day after day of being ignored, being underpaid, being persecuted, being discriminated against, being humiliated, being denied justice, etc., or did they think, "Yeah, right, Jesus?!"  What about that descriptor, "meek?"  How might they have understood it? How has the word's meaning changed throughout the ages?

I looked at John Wesley's commentary on the passage, and I discovered that he rendered that verse as "Happy are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth."  He called the meek the ones "that hold all their passions and affections evenly balanced," and defined inheriting the earth as having "all things really necessary for life and godliness."  He went on to say that they would enjoy whatever portion they received from God here and now and that they would "hereafter possess the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness."

Reading that changed my view of the idea of meekness.  The prospect of having all my passions and affections evenly balanced is pretty appealing, particularly since I struggle with both depression and anxiety.  I quite like the thought of being on an even keel despite whatever circumstances I find myself in.  That would be reward enough, especially with the promise of having everything that is really needed for life and godliness right here but of course, there is also the hope of a future in which to enjoy a new and righteous earth as my home.  

So maybe I won't be calling the Beatitudes "Yeah, right, Jesus" after all.  Perhaps I will instead see these verses as a description of the way in which God redeems and reclaims all things, even challenges like anxiety and depression. They offer hope to all of us ordinary saints, toiling away in our hidden little lives, not because we seek recognition or honor but simply because we really do want to be like the gentle Jesus, meek and mild, who looked upon a little child and saw in that little one a symbol of the kingdom of heaven itself.

Insiders/Outsiders: Reflections on a Few Days in Oxford

 

The British Methodist Church suggests that ministers take three days off each quarter in addition to the usual weekly day off, and I just took advantage of my first "quarter days" by spending a few days in Oxford.  The idea is that we take a real break from the pressures and stresses of ministry in order to relax, renew, and restore so that we can return  to our circuits rested and ready to be more effective leaders and pastors.  I didn't realize how much I needed this until I hopped aboard a bus to leave town, but the feeling of relief I experienced after just a few hours in Oxford was palpable.

When I travel, I always enjoy glimpses into ways of living that are different from my own, and I sometimes let my imagination run wild as I consider what it would be like to inhabit a particular house, follow a different profession, or even live during another era altogether.  Rambling around the canals and streets while staring up at the "dreaming spires," it was easy to give free rein to all sorts of thoughts and impressions.  Spending four days there in no way makes me an expert, but I was struck by a feeling of being a definite outsider in what appears to be a very charmed and charming world of academic privilege, one limited to those with membership in an exclusive club. Many popular sites were either off-limits to tourists or had extremely limited access because of coronavirus, so there were literally closed doors everywhere I looked.  I felt like a stranger in a strange land.  I am a graduate of some fine institutions of higher learning, though not in the same league as Oxford or Cambridge, and I can also remember moments of looking around those campuses and wondering what I was doing there, and when I might be unmasked as an interloper who clearly didn't belong there.

If I were to list all the famous leaders and brilliant minds who boast the colleges of Oxford on their resumes, that alone would take up this blog post, but it won't surprise you that my interest was mainly on two particular graduates of Christ Church.  Even though the college is  currently closed to tourists, people desiring to worship are welcome to the cathedral, and I attended Evensong one night.  For a cathedral, it is a curiously intimate space, and it wasn't hard to imagine the large numbers of people who have worshiped there down the centuries sitting shoulder to shoulder with the rest of us.  As I listened to the glorious music, bowed my head in prayer, and discreetly looked at the beautiful interior, I began to feel that sense of being an outsider ebbing away.  Here in this sacred space, my nationality and status didn't matter.  Here in this place, I was as much an insider as anyone else who has ever stepped through those heavy wooden doors because we were all the same in our need of spiritual solace and comfort.  

That would have been gift enough for a lifetime, but to my surprise and delight, when they discovered that I'm a Methodist minister, I was led to the stone in the floor that honors John and Charles Wesley, graduates of Christ Church and leaders in the Methodist revival.  Because I was carrying my knitted John Wesley, I took a picture of him on the spot, and then I was invited to stand in the lofty pulpit in whose shadow that stone memorial lies, and one of the officials took the picture of me and Mr. Wesley that appears above.  You can easily imagine how excited I was about this wholly unexpected turn of events!  I am sure they don't just allow any and everybody to do that, so that made me feel pretty special, like a real insider.  

But to dwell on that is to miss the real point which is that ALL are welcome in the house of God, no matter what their earthly qualifications or privileges are.  ALL people are God's beloved, and ALL are invited to pull up a chair at the Lord's table.  In the light of the ways that the most vulnerable (the elderly, children, and the poor) are suffering from the economic impact of the coronavirus pandemic, it makes me reflect on the responsibility we all bear in making sure that they do not remain outsiders but that they have access to economic support, health care, and most essentially, to their daily bread.  The current upheaval has revealed gaps and cracks in the systems many of us have taken for granted or ignored, and we must open our eyes, our mouths, and our hands in order to see, speak, and serve those most in need.   

Arising from his deeply-held Christian faith, John Wesley spoke firmly, even harshly about those who ignore the plight of the poor and who plead ignorance of their needs because of their deliberate avoidance of them, and he poured his energy, time, and resources into relieving their poverty and desperate circumstances.  He did so because Jesus spent his earthly life seeking out and drawing in the outsiders, turning the order of things upside down, lifting the downtrodden and broken and honoring them as children of God, as inheritors of the kingdom, as those whose deepest hunger and thirst will be satisfied by God.  We are called to do the very same, and shame on us when we do not.

An unexpected takeaway from my "quarter days" spent amongst the dreaming spires, and one I shall not quickly forget ...

18th Century and 21st Century Laptops

As we all continue to adapt, pivot, change, whatever you want to call it, because of coronavirus, it's amazing how creative some people, churches, and other organizations have been in coping and carrying on.  I must confess to an unholy envy of some of the imaginative solutions some of my colleagues and friends have come up with.  I'm not nearly as good at lateral thinking or seeing things from a different angle as some people, which is frustrating, but at least we're sharing our ideas and talking about how things have worked (or not, as the case may be). 

If alive today, John Wesley would likely have been on the cutting edge of figuring out how to carry on the task of sharing the gospel with the maximum number of people safely.  After all, he was almost infamous for the ways he pushed the boundaries, bent and even broke some of the accepted rules, and boldly tried and/or adapted new methods in the 18th century evangelistic revival.  He made use of the best tech of his day in order to preach, teach, provide medical care, offer spiritual counsel, and live out his call as a minister of the gospel, calling people to experience the gift of salvation.

Wesley broadly defined salvation as far more than going to heaven or eternal happiness.  Rather, he understood it as a present blessing, insisting that the words "You are saved" could properly also be translated as "You have been saved."  He beautifully writes, "So that the salvation which is here spoken of might be extended to the entire work of God, from the first dawning of grace in the soul till it is consummated in glory."  

The people behind the scenes at the Museum of Methodism and John Wesley's House in London have been doing their own version of pivoting, utilizing the power of YouTube in order to share the wealth of artefacts with the wider world during this time of restriction due to the pandemic.  They recently showcased a fascinating little lantern belonging to Wesley and the lovely travel writing table pictured above, featuring all sorts of 18th century state-of-the-art compartments for his quill pen, ink, and paper.  It's made of oak but stained to look like mahogany, and it would have been a rare and possibly expensive piece even when new, which probably indicates that it was a gift from someone to Mr. Wesley.  

In many ways unlike today's laptops which have the ability to do everything except make you a cup of tea, this humble but ingenious bit of wooden technology was nevertheless a powerful tool in the hands of a committed Christian who lived his life to do the most good to the most people every day of his long and fruitful ministry. With that kind of example before me, even though I'm not the most creative person around, I hope that, with my modern laptop and along with the members of the churches in my charge, I can find some effective and innovative ways to connect people and invite them to experience the joys of salvation, reminding them that, even in the pandemic, the best of all is that God is with us. 

Circuit Riding and the Incarnation, 2020 style

When I first became a Methodist minister (in the United Methodist Church), I had a two-point charge, so I was technically a circuit rider.  For three years, I rode down highway 701 in Johnston County at least twice a week between Corinth and Antioch (such Pauline names for churches) to preach, teach, baptize, celebrate communion, marry, and bury.  All the appointments I had after that were in station churches, and I suppose I thought my circuit riding days were over, especially since my most recent stint in parish ministry was at a Presbyterian church.  But the Spirit was nudging me in another direction, very subtly at first and then with something more like a shove than a nudge, and I find myself part of a circuit again, with primary pastoral charge of three churches in that circuit. 

I have to admit that moving across the Atlantic during a pandemic isn't exactly the sanest action I've ever taken, and since I don't have a car and actually haven't ever driven in the UK, my circuit riding looks a bit different.  If I have to be somewhere in person, I take a bus or take an Uber to my destination.  That's the exception more than the rule, however.  More often than not, my interactions with my parishioners take place over Zoom or via email and occasionally, even by using that archaic form of technology known as a telephone.  Two of my three churches have decided not to return to in-person worship for a while; the other will be discussing that at length next week.  There are so many things to take into consideration, but above all, we are seeking to love our neighbor as we love ourselves and to follow the first of Wesley's General Rules, to do no harm.

Each of these churches is  quite different from the others.  It's like having three children who have their own personalities, their own preferences, their own way of doing things, and their own creative ideas about how best to worship God.  It's exciting, it's challenging, and it's especially interesting in these corona-times.  I am learning new things every single day about what it is to be a Christian in three very different communities in a country very different from my own.  It can be a bit overwhelming, and sometimes I visualize myself as a dog paddling madly with its nose just inches above the water.  Some things will settle down as I get to know people and understand how the churches operate, but the weirdness of the pandemic means that we are still in for quite a wild ride for some time to come.  

We can't predict when we will be able to safely gather for worship in ways that include singing our favorite hymns and drinking tea and coffee afterwards, and with Advent and Christmas on the horizon, we are going to have to be really creative in figuring out how to preserve beloved traditions along with finding new ways to celebrate the Incarnation.  It's enough to make my head spin, but I take comfort in remembering our legacy as the people called Methodists, which by definition means that we seek to bring the gospel to as many people as we can in as many ways as we can.  

As I reflect on the difficulties that lie ahead as we contemplate the holidays, a thought floated into my mind and firmly lodged there -- Christmas isn't canceled.  Yes, it will be different.  No, it won't include many of the things we've grown to treasure.  But no matter how many things we can't do, there is so much that we can do if we aren't afraid to be innovative in how we live out and share our faith.  The first Christmas didn't exactly go according to plan -- what pregnant woman envisions giving birth surrounded by farm animals? and the beloved carol "Silent Night" has its origins in the breakdown of an organ and the substitution of a guitar, or so the story goes, so maybe this is just par for the course.  Circuit riding during the pandemic and Christmas in the corona-times may strain our imaginations to the breaking point, but at the heart of the Christian faith is the conviction that our loving and gracious God is with us, and as Mr. Wesley reminds us with his deathbed words, that is the best of all, whether one is circuit riding using a horse or an unstable internet connection or celebrating a picture-perfect candlelit communion surrounded by family and friends.  And that is good news of great joy that is for all the people!

 (Each church building is represented in these three pictures)