As the Roman Catholic Church is swimming in controversy over cases of priests’ sexual misconduct, it is important to review how our Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) differs in dealing with these issues. Lutherans have not been immune to these issues, but the ELCA has been quite different in its response.

In 1988, when the ELCA was formed, all of our bishops participated in orientation which included a thorough review of how to handle situations of sexual misconduct. Since then, all new bishops receive the same orientation. As a result, when charges of sexual misconduct are brought forward, there is swift investigation, and when the allegations are substantiated, there continues sensitive and caring treatment of victims, full disclosure to congregations, the removal of clergy from the ELCA roster, and full cooperation with any civil and/or criminal actions that might ensue. Additionally, all clergy and other rostered persons in the ELCA participate every few years in a morning long session that reviews proper boundaries, with strategies and support to maintain them.

Recent events remind us that in the Roman Catholic Church, bishops do not have the power to remove clergy from their roster. These kind of cases have to be processed by the Vatican. Since their church regards a person who has become a priest is “changed,” removal from their roster is rare. Consequently, they are very slow and reluctant to “defrock” anyone.

I won’t comment further on the Roman Catholic Church and this issue. Summarizing the way the ELCA handles these issues speaks for itself. We can be grateful that the ELCA has been proactive in prevention and appropriate responses to tragic cases of sexual misconduct.

We recently completed new furniture for the chancel area of our sanctuary. (By “we” I mean Tom Rockne, a member who did the work. He is a superb craftsman and he has gifted us with beautiful and functional works of art.) We were very intentional in creating a design for a “table” and not an “altar.” The reason for this is an important one.

When the early Christian community sought to interpret what Jesus’ death and resurrection had accomplished, it was natural for this Jewish, newly Christian community to fall back on deeply held concepts. Perhaps John the Baptist set this trend at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry when he cried out, “Behold the Lamb of God.” Indeed, Jesus’ death on the cross was reminiscent of the ancient ritual of a blood sacrifice made to appease an angry God, and an altar was the structure upon which these sacrifices were made. Language of sacrifice combined with references to Jesus as the Lamb of God persists to this day. However, it is imagery and theology that Jesus himself rejected. Twice in the Gospel of Matthew, for example, Jesus states, “Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice.’” (9:13 & 12:7) God does not demand a blood sacrifice. Jesus regularly expressed words of forgiveness throughout his ministry. Furthermore, Jesus’ teachings tell us about this God of mercy and love – the Gospel text for March 14 was the story of the prodigal son and it is a prime example of this kind of teaching.

Of course Jesus gave of himself, and one might use the language of sacrifice in describing this giving. But it is not a blood sacrifice to appease an angry God. We are reminded of Jesus’ gift of self to us when we think of Jesus gathering with the twelve disciples for their last meal together. Jesus serves the bread and wine with this reminder – they are symbols of his body and blood, the gift of his life given for all. They, like we, are united by the love of God. The gifts of Jesus’ life, God’s love and forgiveness, are given as they gather around the table. The table, not an altar, is the right furniture to express our Christian understanding of God.

It may take a while for people’s language regarding our chancel furnishings to change, to let go of the word “altar,” and to adjust to the language of table. But it is a good change and worth remembering the theology that leads the change. Perhaps it would be helpful to think of our chancel furniture as representative of our Lutheran understanding of “the means of grace,” which is “word and sacrament.” The pulpit/lectern represents the word, and we are reminded of our two sacraments with the baptismal font and the table for our Lord’s Supper. Our chancel furnishings are not only beautifully crafted, they are wonderfully functional as we use them to proclaim God’s deep love and abiding grace in our lives.

For two and a half years I have been living with stage 4 cancer.  One of my majors in college was Philosophy and my favorite branch of that field was existentialism. Simply put, existentialism emphasizes that as we come to terms with our mortality, we discover our meaning for life. So now I am pressed to put into practise the esoteric major that was compelling so many years ago.

When first diagnosed, some would ask about what I’d still like to do in life. There are predictable “bucket list” ideas, often very self-centered indulgences  … and those aren’t all bad, Living to see if the Vikings could make it to the Super Bowl. or to watch all the Winter Olympics were good incentives to hang in there. I want to see the March Madness again, and spend some time up north. These are light-weight reasons to fight for life.

The most compelling reasons to fight for life, I’m discovering, are of a different kind. I want to be here this coming July for my son’s wedding – not so much for my sake as for his and his bride’s sake. I want to be here in July for our 40th wedding anniversary, not just for my sake, but for my wife’s. I want to live to share the joy if grandchildren should come – again, to make their joy filled with the love of family without one missing.

In short, I believe the most compelling reason to live, no matter what each person faces in life, is to embrace the notion that we live for the sake of others. The Bible is filled with this notion of being stewards. Embracing this reason for life becomes more compelling when faced with the predicament of our own mortality.

One of the most universal and timeless problems for all people of faith is coming to terms with the events of tragedies and wondering how a good God could allow for suffering. Whether the event is individual, as in my dealing with cancer, or catastrophic, as in the recent earthquake devastation in Haiti, the problem remains the same: “How can there be a good God that allows suffering to exist?

The standard responses, in my experience, are four. And I find each one inadequate and unsatisfactory. In no particular order, one response is to say that we don’t understand, but that it’s just the way that it is. Even Jesus wasn’t immune to mortality and injustices that shaped his suffering and death, but in the end there is a resurrection that rectifies this transitory problem. A second response is to say that everything that happens is because God has a “plan,” and that some unforeseen greater good will come of whatever terrible tragedy we experience. This outlook produces some of the worst imaginable comments to people who are suffering, as though we might find comfort in the notion of God-as-surgeon, causing momentary pain. Even the aftermath to Haiti’s earthquake generated this type of comment, and I reject it as callous nonsense. A third response is to say that suffering and death are the result of a “fallen” creation and humanity. It’s built on the myth that in the beginning, everything was good and without pain, but due to humanity’s bad choices, it’s our fault that there’s suffering and death. Sure, blame us for cancer and earthquakes. Does that really get God off the hook? And the fourth response involves some type of cosmology in which there’s a devil that’s given free reign to wreak havoc with the created order. It’s an unfortunate image that comes from stories like the Book of Job … but it persists. Why would a good, powerful God let a much lesser being, characterized as the devil, have that kind of free reign? This outlook doesn’t make sense to me.

So what are we left with? Do you really think I’ve got an answer? I’d be the first human in history to solve this age old problem, if I did! But let me at least briefly articulate the perspective I live with – that I must live with, given my own suffering with cancer.

Instead of beginning with a specific event or circumstance of suffering, I take a big step back and try to look at the big picture. What do we see in all of creation over the billions of years it’s been taking place? And where is God in all of that? For starters, God is in it all, everything. Always has been and always will be. That goes for the macrocosmic and infinite universe, to the microcosmic world of subatomic material. And the whole blooming thing is in a constant state of change. With animate and inanimate alike, there is birth, life, death, and reformulation into new realities. We (humans) seem to be a rather unique part of this creation, in that we can perceive and reflect upon these realities. So we are aware that we are in and of creation and that we ourselves are subject to the constancy of change in creation. We are a part of this birth, life, death, and reformulation of creation. We believe we are created in the image of God. Thus we, like God though in a limited and finite way, experience this cycle. God experiences the whole gamut, and thus very much experiences and shares the tragic aspects of this dynamic creation.

I wish it weren’t so. I wish I were immortal right now and immune to the sufferings that can be a part of this moment of creation. But I do find comfort in believing that God is very much with me – both in the glorious aspects of life and in the pains that come our way. I find comfort in the image of Jesus who helps us with the possibility that this creation has with it a reformulation of new life for us. I don’t have good answers for undeserved suffering and catastrophic events that cause mass suffering – whether Haiti, my brother’s untimely death, or the massive volcanic eruption that created Yellowstone, for example. I find I stand with Job before God, wanting to know “why?” and not getting an answer. A part of me wishes that I was an animal that doesn’t think and perceive. But then I wouldn’t savor the life I have, I wouldn’t give voice to gratitude for perception and feeling and thought, and I wouldn’t live with hope for more.

One thing philosopher Blaise Pascal is often remembered for is his “wager” on the existence of God. He figured that believing in God was a safe bet. Simply put, if God doesn’t exist and one chooses to believe or not believe in God, nothing much is lost in the eternal scheme of things, either way. But if God does exist and one chooses not to believe, a person is at high risk for eternal considerations. So, the safe “wager” is to believe in God … that way, if God does exist, a believer has made a bet that protects one from adverse eternal consequences. It may not feel intellectually honest, but it makes some sense.

In a recent editorial, Thomas Friedman lays out a similar kind of argument as he makes a case for taking action on climate change. He argues, “If we prepare for climate change by building a clean-power economy, but climate change turns out to be a hoax, what would be the result? Well, during a transition period, we would have higher energy prices. But gradually we would be driving battery-powered electric cars and powering more and more of our homes and factories with wind, solar, nuclear and second-generation biofuels. We would be much less dependent on oil dictators who have drawn a bull’s-eye on our backs; our trade deficit would improve; the dollar would strengthen; and the air we breathe would be cleaner. In short, as a country, we would be stronger, more innovative and more energy independent. But if we don’t prepare, and climate change turns out to be real, life on this planet could become a living hell.”

As the scientific and sometimes unreasoned debate around climate change seems to drag the public into a divided opinion, I think it’s prudent to apply the Pascal Wager principle. Let’s go with taking climate change seriously, knowing that our actions will be beneficial whatever happens. I think the same is true with regards to believing in God (even while thinking there are good reasons to believe in God that are a little deeper than a wager.)

Prayers that have the word “just” sprinkled throughout are foreign to me. I didn’t grow up hearing prayers like it, and the congregations I have served never have prayers like it. I can’t seem to find a comfort level that works for when I hear a prayer that’s filled with phrases like, “Lord, I just want to ask that… We just come to you with… etc.” When I hear these phrases, I start focusing on the word “just” and start to feel like a person who can’t stand the sound of fingernails on a blackboard. Maybe I’m a bit of a curmudgeon on this one, but here’s why I don’t care for it -

First, it’s the equivalent of a speaker saying “um” all the time. To repeatedly say “just” is an oratorically and grammatically poor way of praying.

Secondly (and this is what I care more about), it feels as though one is being apologetic about the prayer petition – asking God for something that’s not all that important. If a person has something that needs praying for, it’s important … and God wants to hear the concern. As a matter of fact, God makes it clear in scripture that God wants us to express our concerns. Like a loving parent with their child, no concern is too small for God to hear. So lacing prayer with the word “just” is not only a bad habit, it is a pattern that short-changes God’s love and presence in our lives.

Christmas advertising is in full swing right now. Companies are hopeful for a bit of a bump and rebound from the economic difficulties of the last year. Some parents are desperately searching for the “hot” toy – a mechanical hamster that randomly moves. It’s another toy that will fascinate a child for about 20 minutes before it’s set aside in favor of something else. On this Thanksgiving Eve, I find myself posing the question, “Of the things that I have, what are the ones that really have value and meaning?”

The TV we bought just in the nick of time for the Beijing Olympics may be monetarily valuable and functionally pleasing, but it has no real value for me except that there’s a good story attached with it (our old TV broke down 90 minutes before the opening ceremony and we rushed to Best Buy, made a quick decision, and had figured out how to hook the new TV up with 2 minutes to spare!) There all sorts of things in my house that I couldn’t resist buying and which are now just stuff cluttering a shelf or closet, waiting for a trip to Good Will.

So what makes something more than a thing? I have been thinking about this for a while. And I have been thinking about a few things and who I might “pass them on” to someday. There’s a book and a picture given to me from my father. Buried in my closet is a bulky winter sweater knitted by my mother (that I haven’t worn in over 40 years). And what about the small antique trunk that was given to me simply because my name is Andrew, having been named after Anders, my great-grandfather who immigrated from Norway almost 140 years ago?

I would guess, that as your thoughts drift along these channels, you will find yourself also recognizing that the things that have real meaning and value for us are often not those that have monetary value. They are ones that carry with them a good story, a relationship, a part of our history, and a sense of meaning. And as gifts are given, we give thanks for the people that have made this true for us.

Lutherans have historically held that scripture is inspired and that it is authoritative for all matters of faith and life. But is that really the heart of what God intends scripture to do for us? I believe there are problems for us if we lose sight of the most important purpose of scripture – namely, to draw us more deeply into relationship with God through the telling of faith stories through the ages, particularly the story of Jesus. Inspiration and authority are outgrowths of this relationship, and are both shaped by this relationship.

Here are a couple challenges that inspiration and authority create for us:

1) Is all scripture equally inspired and to be taken with equal authority? The ELCA’s debates and actions regarding sexual orientation demonstrate this challenge and also demonstrates the proclivity of people to have preexisting opinions on life’s issues and secondarily interpret scripture accordingly.

2) To declare the authority of scripture on any given issue necessitates my articulating what scripture has to say about that issue. Thus, I become the judge of the authority of scripture. On what basis do I ignore certain parts (like Jesus’ rather narrow parameters for remarriage, or Paul’s conclusion that women should be silent in the church) and declare that other parts are to be universally applied (like Jesus’ teaching about loving one’s enemy, or his insistence on forgiving others)? The real problem here is that I might develop the mistaken notion that scripture is for my use – that I am in control – rather than understanding that scripture is for God’s use in fostering relationship with and discipleship in me.

It is important to remember that as God reaches out to the human part of creation, God became particularly present in the person of Jesus. Our understanding of God and our application of God’s intent for creation is therefore best understood through the life and teachings of Jesus. We find his story in scripture. We read it as past event and present reality. As best as we are able and as God gives the ability to do so, we put on the mind and heart of Jesus in how we live our lives and how we integrate scripture into our daily life. Jesus becomes the lens through which we read and interpret scripture. And while that may lead us to have different tiers of inspiration and authority in our assessment of scripture, we remain humble in our discernment because we remember that God is God, and scripture is one of God’s ways to help us be a disciple of Jesus.

“The love of money is the root of all evil.”  So said Jesus. I think he knew what he was talking about.

As I read about and consider many pressing issues of our times, I live with a fear that much of what drives the actions and beliefs of people has its roots in the allure of money. In the world of extreme wealth, I wonder if considerations of personal gain don’t surpass considerations of loyalties to faith, country, environment, or employees. When I think of the global reach of our military and its many deployments and bases throughout the world, and hear the language of “protecting our national interests,” I wonder how the economic interests of global companies must be tempted to hide the underlying interest of money behind any other camouflage, including patriotic rationales. In an area that’s not currently a military threat but a global threat, how else do we explain the ongoing skepticism about global warming when 98% of the scientific community documents this dire threat to global life? Who’s really driving the spins of disinformation and why? Follow the money!

When we come to terms with any issue, it makes sense to me to ask the question, “What role might ‘the love of money’ be playing in the debate and actions around this issue?” With this in mind, it’s not hard to understand how Berny Madoff could have bilked so many out of over 50 billion dollars in a ponzi scheme. And its easy to understand what motivated so many to invest their money with him, in spite of his mathematically impossible performance year after year – their love of money left them vulnerable to being hoodwinked.  And in a related world, we are not surprised that Wall Street needs the government to curb exhorbitant salaries and bonuses, and tries the lame reasoning that these salaries and bonuses are needed to keep the best talent. “BooHoo,” I say, let them find other places that are foolish enough to splurge with stockholders money. There’s plenty of good talent out there, willing to work for a reasonably wealthy salary. (I laud Marty Sabo, former MN Congrfessman [and Lutheran] for introducing year after year a bill that would limit top executive pay to 25 times the salary of the lowest annual employee salary in their company.) On and on the stories go.

So what do we do? Well, keep in mind Jesus’ teaching for starters. Then we practice the wisdom of our faith that calls us to generosity. The concept of tithing is a gift for us, helping us serve one master that’s not money and who actually cares about us deeply. Generosity is a compassionate and spiritual act. It is a source of joy – a kind of joy that cannot come from the love of money. And finally, it may serve us well to wonder, on any given issue of public concern – local or global – “How might the love of money underlie the visible pronouncements and actions that we are witnessing?” It doesn’t hurt to wonder and ask. It may help stay aligned with our faith.

I am in the midst of watching Ken Burn’s documentary on “The National Parks.” I have been struck by the struggles that took place to secure these national treasures in the hands of the public’s government, protecting them from the private entrepreneurs who sought to exploit them for personal gain (as happened with Niagra Falls – the guady exploitation of which helped Congress realize that they shouldn’t allow a repeat of that travestyl.) The arguments sound eerily familiar to what we hear surrounding the health care debate. That is, when government “interferes” with private enterprise, it is not uncommon to hear the defense of capitalism versus socialism, as though one system is good and the other is bad. That’s just nonsense. We live with both economic philosophies all the time, choosing to apply each one at different times for very compelling reasons. Each one has its place.

My rights and well-being are always worked out in the context of our rights and well-being and vise versa. And we have been slow to realize that “our” is not just confined to the human family, but includes all parts of God’s creation – animate and inanimate. Just as we are called on to speak on our own behalf (it is healthy to stand up for our own well-being), we are also called on to speak out on behalf of the corporate body – humans and the rest of creation included. We people of faith believe this “call” is given us by God as a sacred trust. God has given us the capacity to be wise – to advocate for the well-being of both the “me” and the “we.” If the whole thrives, each part of the whole thrives and vise versa.