Consolidation

I've decided to consolidate my religious observations and random thoughts/updates on life into one blog, for four main reasons:

1. If I am to have any discipline in my blogging, I can't be worrying about what kinds of thoughts go on which blog.
2. Why should my theological/academic life be so compartmentalized from my everyday/professional life?
3. I'm the only one who updates our theoretically joint-family blog, so it's kind of just "mine" already.
4. Facebook only allows you to import notes from one blog, which is already set to be the other one.

So, from now on, check me out at mattandjesskelley.blogspot.com. It's titled "The Parsonage Family," which identifies it as a family-update blog, but it is also the relatively unique platform out of which I speak, as both a pastor's wife and a religious historian/culture-watcher.

See you there!

Grace vs. Truth

I am currently reading Dan Kimball's book that is making a splash right now--They Like Jesus but Not the Church. (Even as a devout Christian, I can connect with that title--the Church can often frustrate and infuriate me to a degree nothing else can!) Overall, I've been pretty impressed with Dan's ability and commitment to understand both his Christian reader and the non-Christian acquaintances whom he interviewed for the book. In earlier chapters, he was even adept at speaking to both more conservative and more progressive church leaders, particularly in the chapter on the treatment of women--he argued his points in an intelligent way that would be useful to both "complementarian" and "egalitarian" congregations (that is, those who only allow women to teach women and children, and those who believe women can also be called into the same preaching and teaching roles as men).

As I'm now in later chapters, I'm disagreeing with some of the things he says, but those issues aren't the point of this post. I want to talk about something Dan says while discussing how church leaders can compassionately reach out to homosexual persons. "Church leaders need to find a balance between grace and truth," he says, arguing that pastors should present their views on homosexuality without being legalistic or overtly condemning. I understand that Kimball strongly believes that homosexuality is unequivocally wrong, and thus "the truth" equals the "your lifestyle and love are sinful." His definition of grace, then, would be a message of "we are all sinners and in need of God's forgiveness." The question that immediately came screaming to mind: Can grace and truth really be at cross-purposes?

If religious truth is defined as God's message to humanity, wouldn't grace be truth itself? How can there be such thing as a balancing act between grace and truth when the ultimate truth is that God loves us all, and that we should do likewise? Shouldn't the truth that church leaders express to people (even those whom they believe are committing more egregious sins that the rest of us) be the truth of grace?

I know that the flaw of my argument here is that many church leaders would not define the ultimate truth of God as love, but rather as righteousness, and I actually think in that flaw lies the answer to my original question. We all have our own understanding of truth, and chances are, none of us has it exactly right. (That's why I use little-T-truth, because I don't think any of us can fully grasp God's big-T-Truth in this earthly life). So, with our limited human understanding, there may very well be a gap between our understanding of truth and our expression of grace (as Dan implies), but I hope that when faced with this choice, we'll choose to err on the side of grace.

Florez: Music to Theologically-Reflective Ears

I spend two hours a day in my car, now that we live so far from my workplace in downtown Nashville. It’s not so bad, though, since I am a person who needs a lot of alone-time, and since I’ve always been an unabashed car-singer. I’m the one rocking out in the VW next to you at the stoplight. The last few days, I’ve been listening to my favorite album by a band that got its start at Furman University while I was there—Florez, their second album In Flight, released in 2005. Florez is led by Alex Florez, a fellow religion major of the Class of 2003. He and I even proofed one another’s term papers for our senior seminar. I wish I still had a copy of it to sell on eBay when they get really big.

The personal connection is very cool, but they’re also just really talented musicians. I didn’t personally know the other band members, though I ran into one of them at the post office one day, now that they’re based in Nashville, and we recognized each other as fellow Paladins. Their songs are witty and energetic, eclectic rock with elements of bluegrass (thanks to the electric-banjo), Latin, and hip-hop thrown in. What I really love, though, are the religious references and imagery throughout. Take the song Behold, for example, which is about human fallibility (AKA sin):

He’s who saved us from our troubles in the first place
Like when the serpent dangled fruit in front of her face
He’s the last one standing even in the worst case
But his promise is to help you forget just how bad this curse tastes

While the above lyrics seem to adhere to a very orthodox doctrine of original-sin, most of the imagery they use is reflective of a imaginative and deeply passionate Christian spirituality. I sense that in many ways, they are responding to the brand of extreme conservativism professed by some of the dominant Christian groups at Furman, while Alex's outstanding education in religion and theology is evident throughout. Consider the song Live Instead, which objects to many Christians’ obsession with the afterlife. The chorus expresses the beautiful irony of atonement and communion.

Eat the bread and drink the wine
Partake the fruit of the vine
Drink the wine and eat the bread
Swallow death and live instead

Later in that song is a verse so obviously inspired by a downside of the Furman experience—the fact that more moderate or liberal Christians were essentially considered non-Christians, and real dialogue between more conservative and more liberal Christians was difficult, if not non-existent.

I’ve heard your sermons and all of your philosophies
And I won’t forget ‘em ‘cause you just won’t stop accosting me
I’m done hearing your lessons until you end your condescension
And agree to sit across from me and talk to me
And try to get along with me
Admit you’re not alone in trying to plant the sowing seed
But your pedestal’s so high that I just won’t be surprised
If the air up there gets too thin and it’s hard for you to breathe


The last song I want to mention is Forgiving You, which originally was not one of my favorite songs musically, and I initially assumed it was about an interpersonal relationship. As I’ve listened to the lyrics more closely, though, I think it is about man forgiving God for ways he’s been hurt by the church or other things for which he blamed God, and not only that, but I think the song is two-sided, in that parts may also be from God’s perspective, forgiving man. In any case, I think it’s an intense song of reconciliation. Anyone who knows this song want to throw his or her two cents in?

That’s the end of my review/viral marketing effort. Bottom line, Florez is treat for the mind and soul as well as the ears, and a must-listen for theologically reflective people and music-lovers everywhere.

A Consistent Ethic of Life

We ate at a Chinese buffet restaurant today after church, and my fortune read, "You are vigorous in word and action." I would agree that I often am, and I actually had proved that statement true just a few hours earlier during Sunday School. People at Bethlehem are fairly moderate, so I don't disagree with everything said, but sometimes it seems that only one person responds to a question or comment by the teacher, and their unchallenged statement seems to become law. So, I feel obligated to speak up when I disagree, not so much to prove my point but just to demonstrate that genuine people of faith can disagree about important issues.

Today, we looked at a passage in Matthew 17 about paying the temple tax, and someone asked, "are there times when obeying the law is not moral, or when being moral is illegal?" Somehow, the conversation came to the death penalty (I don't remember exactly how), as someone expressed exasperation at a judge who said that the death penalty by lethal injection was cruel and unusual punishment. The group discussed that for a minute or two, when I felt compelled to interject, "whether or not the injection is painful, isn't the point that the death penalty involves killing a human being?" This launched further debate, and I felt bad for seeming harsh with those who are in favor of the death penalty. As we got up to leave, I assured a few people around me, "I would be just as harsh arguing against abortion!"

It seems like an odd point of which to assure people, I guess, but I didn't want to seem like the crazy liberal in the group, but rather to assert that I hold to a consistent ethic of life, as the Catholic church and some other Christian groups do. I am very much against abortion (even under the circumstances for which most laws make exceptions), and the death penalty (take a look at Genesis 4:14--in response to the first recorded murder in history, God said the killer was not to be harmed), and also against war. This is the especially tough one.

When the class member first asked the question about the conflict between morality and legality, the first thing that came to mind was war--the draft, or this supposed "rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar's." I feel that it is wrong to kill, under any circumstances, even in war. Since America is currently at war (though not officially), and we now live in a town with a large military base, I did not feel brave enough to bring up that issue in Sunday School. And really, I don't know exactly how I would have argued it. Preserving human life seems to be a pretty basic principle among God-lovers, but so many American Christians make an exception when it comes to "patriotic service to the country." I haven't really studied politics much, but I assume that a military is pretty much an absolute necessity for a nation (how does Switzerland do it?). So, the moral difficulty really seems to come in that Christianity is a popular, majority religion.

For early Christians, the Christ-like commitment to non-violence would have been easier, since they were a small sect, outside of the dominant Roman population. Similarly, Quakers and the Amish today are able to stay faithful to their consistantly pro-life ethic and decline military service. Catholic and Protestant Americans, however, are the religious majority in America. This is no excuse, but rather is another example of how the Emperor Constantine helped create a world in which it is more difficult to be Christ-like, because theoretically everyone is a Christian.

How are we to live, when the dominant culture and our faith overlap as much as they do? As Soren Kierkegaard suggested, in a culture where everyone is a Christian, is anyone a Christian? Who will "defend us" if Christians refused to bear arms? Once again, practicality and morality are at cross-purposes, and the question of how to live as Christian in today's world is a daily dilemma.

Wow, I'm pathetic

I am the worst blogger in the world. It has been almost six full months since I last posted here on my more "thoughtful" blog. I have been sidetracked by Matt and my joint, life-events blog, The Parsonage Family, and I don't even post on that more than a few times a month, at most.

At the time of my last post, on March 25, I was facing the end of my career in market research, and didn't even yet know if my dream job was going to come through. (I think that was actually the day before my interview with the gentlemen who are now my bosses.) In any case, I've been an Associate Editor for about 5 months now, and I love it. It can be pretty stressful at times, since the execs expect me to do things that I don't think even an older, more experienced editor could do! I have more of a workaholic tendency than I ever thought possible, but most days it's gratifying to have so much (generally interesting and exciting) stuff to do.

Matt and I have also moved as a result of Matt's appointment to a United Methodist church in a town (small city?) about 50 miles outside of Nashville. So, I'm commuting about an hour each way, which is much more tolerable than I expected. Beginning our first solo pastorate at this relatively small congregation (actually, quite average-sized, in the great scheme of American churches) has been interesting, and has sparked many conversations between Matt and I about ecclesiology, worship styles, preferences, etc.

The most thought-provoking matter of late stemming from both Matt and my new jobs is rooted in the vast difference between the large, innovative churches I focus on at work (and in my personal/academic interest in trend-setting American congregations), and our new church that embodies all that is typical of the United Methodist denomination and really, the majority of American congregations overall.

Not venturing far from the title of this post, though, I'm going to save the actual launch into those ecclesiological issues for another day. It's bedtime now.

Sabbath for Man

It's 10:13 on Sunday morning. Since Crievewood now has an early morning service, I am often away from church by 9:30 or 10:30 (depending on if I stay for Sunday school). Sometimes I go to Starbucks, or to a park, or just come back home to do laundry or relax on the back patio. Wherever I go, I love to observe the people who aren't in church. Perhaps they went early, like me, or maybe they went to a Saturday evening service, or perhaps they are not the churchgoing sort at all. It is this last bunch that I am most intrigued by.

I observe them partially because I wonder what it is like to not feel any sort of obligation to go to church every Sunday. I was raised always going, and now that I'm a pastor's wife, people will nag my husband to death if I don't show up. There is guilt involved in not going--like staying home from work or school sick when you're not really that sick. I remember in college, someone once told me they dress up to go to the dining hall on Sundays for lunch, because those who have come straight from church would judge him if he showed up in pajamas. So, I watch with interest those who show up at Starbucks in jeans, or those playing with their kids at the park who don't appear to have come straight from church. They seem to have come to these places for the same reason I have, only without having put in the requisite hour in worship first. They have come to relax, to have fun, to enjoy the beautiful day and have a few moments to themselves before heading back to the office on Monday.

I do not wish to deny the importance of singing praises to God, praying, or discussing issues of spiritual importance. I often find, though, that my hour of relaxation is more worshipful and centering than my hour or two spent in the structured worship setting. I also notice the joy of those who passed go without collecting their wine and wafer. This is their sabbath as well. As Jesus told his critics, "Man was not made for the sabbath, but the sabbath for man." God did not designate a sabbath day so that we should feel burdened by obligation, but so that we can experience time free of obligations--time to relax and rejuvenate ourselves for six more days of work. I sometimes wonder if those who have skipped church altogether understand that concept more than the rest of us.

Sins of Omission

I discovered the blessings of Lent in college. Raised in a less liturgical Protestant tradition, I came to understand and appreciate the liturgical calendar more when I began attending a wonderful Episcopal Church during my junior year. I acknowledged Ash Wednesday for the first time my senior year, and participated in several Lenten services and disciplines the church offered. I also "gave something up" for Lent for the first time that year--pork and shellfish, I think it was, channelling a kosher vibe.

Since then, I have given up chocolate, beer, beef, all meats, etc., as many do during this time of year. I practice these omissions with a keen determination not to be doing so for a selfish gain, like losing weight or whatnot, but rather to focus on filling that void with prayer and reflection on God. I have done so with varying degrees of success, and vividly recall the thick prime rib I wolfed down on Easter 2005.

This year, I decided that rather than giving up something, I would give up myself--that is, give of my time and energies for others. I planned to use Cool People Care's "5 Minutes of Caring" to guide my actions. Two weeks later, I hadn't looked at the site since Ash Wednesday. I decided then to start a daily discipline of reading the daily lectionary and setting aside time for prayer. I have also failed in that endeavor, and lament that I am "wasting" this Lent by not using this time of preparation to focus myself on God and my spiritual life.

Obviously, Lent is not the only time one can or should focus on such things, and I have increased my time spent in prayer as I seek God's comfort and guidance though this "limbo stage" in Matt and my careers. However, the lesson that really comes to mind from my "failures" these past few weeks is, once again, how much harder it is to actively do something than to avoid doing something. Many Christians today insist that the keys to living a moral life are not drinking, not smoking, and not having extramarital sex. While avoiding these indulgences may help one to have a healthier body and avoid emotional baggage (benefits God surely wishes us to enjoy), do such omissions really help one be more Christlike? How much more discipline and faith does it require to actively give of one's time and resources for the less fortunate? To practice selflessness and peace? Which would God prefer? What does the Lord require of us, but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God?

I am reminded of a humorous coincidence that is quite relevant here. I have a cousin named John, whose birthday is March 16. Some family members call him "John 3:16" for that reason. When I started dating my now-husband, I thought I'd check out his "birthday verse" since he happens to have a gospel writer's name. Matthew 11:19 is actually quite fitting for Matt: "For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say 'he has a demon.' The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say 'here is a glutton and a drunkard'... but wisdom is proved right by her actions." Some Christians would (and do) criticize my pastor-hubby for his enjoyment of alcohol, but as the verse says, Christ reveals the logos by his actions, not by his temperance. It seems followers of Christ should strive to do the same.