I’ ve been out of commission for three months … surgery having thrown me for a little loop.  Just posted some thoughts, but I’m out of practice and posted it under a new “page” instead of a new “post,” I think. I’m going to try to remedy this and get it where it belongs. (Success!! I celebrate any time I manage to fix something in the electronic world – usually problems of my own doing.)”

There is so much to be taken for granted in life, and it is often the case that we remember to appreciate things when they are missing. When I woke up today, I happened to think about how good it is to simply feel good and to feel hunger. As I walked out the door I noticed the plants all looking robust after a long stretch without rain – they even looked happy. Experience tells me that when life throws us a curve, when there is difficulty with physical or emotional well-being, when relationships falter or work becomes particularly stressful, it is difficult to think about anything else. In the old classic story, “Heidi,” there is a scene where Heidi is sitting on the mountainside with her elder doctor friend. Heidi is verbalizing her joy in the beauty all around. The doctor, who is mourning the death of his daughter, observes that because of his grief he is even sad that he can’t appreciate the beauty that Heidi sees. What to do then? Heidi ponders a bit and then shares how her old, blind grand-mama is helped by Heidi reading her the lines of a favorite hymn, which she then recites from memory. The doctor realizes that in a small way, Heidi’s words lift a bit of the weight from his shoulders. I neither recognized nor remember the lines of that hymn. But I am reminded of the actor, Martin Sheen, singing an old hymn on Prairie Home Companion, “Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear that music ringing … If love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?” Sometimes it is the little things that lift my spirits.

On more than one occasion I have heard it said that a distinctive conflict in the twenty first century will not be between religions, but between hard-line religious positions and a more congenial approach to religious belief – between those who believe they hold the truth against others who are wrong and are enemies, and those who are open to the possibility that other religious traditions have value and may have insights into religious truths worthy of consideration. In light of this possibility, it is worth the effort to consider how each one of us regards our faith and how this regard informs one’s treatment of religious beliefs that differ.

A question that I wrestled with in my college years was along the lines, “If there is one God, how did it happen that there are so many beliefs about God, and how can I be certain that mine is the right belief?” The short answer to this question was to conclude that revelations about God have been experienced by all people over centuries and these revelations have been shaped by the cultures and historical events in which the revelations were experienced. Moreover, since revelations are, to use Paul’s phrase, like “seeing in a mirror dimly”, some revelations are more likely to be closer to the “truth” than others. Each one of us finds our way (or feel led to) religious tenets that seem to us the closest to the truth. But if there indeed is one God, and one God of all creation, then it also stands to reason that God’s spirit moves among all people. And it is possible to listen for how God has spoken in different times, with different people, even to be inspired by others’ testimony, while still feeling very grounded in one’s own faith.

The testimony found in Acts 17 underscores the global nature of all religious origins: “God made from one, every nation of people to live on all the face of the earth, having determinded allotted periods and the boundaries of their habitation, that they should seek God in the hope that they might feel after God and find God.”  We are not enemies, but one family. Our family tree is rich with many stories of God’s love and grace.

Some of you know I have been dealing with cancer for close to two years – longer, counting the time I didn’t know what my symptoms were all about. Managing cancer, living with cancer, is the reality for me – cure is a slim hope, but a hope nonetheless. With each check-up, I hold my breath, wondering and fearing that things might be worse, while at the same time hoping that things might be better. Inbetween treatments every little twinge I feel in my abdomen causes me to wonder if what I’m feeling is because the cancer is doing something or if it is because my immune system is doing the good fight on my behalf. So far, as the “tracers” and my physical feelings indicate an improving situation, I am more easily able to live on the hope side of things. But fear never lets go completely. I suppose it is true for all of us in our lives – that we live with both. I often wake with a simple prayer giving thanks for the life today, and for help in living it well. Hopes and fears are companions to each day.

It has struck me that the difficult debate around abortion has two positions that are often argued as though the human creature is the only game in town. When I think of how an expanding human population continues to result in the degradation of global climate and of habitat for all creatures, in the elimination of species, loss of rain forests, ocean fisheries, and top soil, etc., I wonder if the discussion of abortion shouldn’t always be done within the context of these other issues.  Should humans have the right to as many children as we want – either by personal choice or by measures that prohibit abortion? It seems to me that unbridled human population growth imperils all of God’s creation – all living things, including humans, and all ecosystems. Stewardship of God’s creation now desparately needs to include a cap on our own species, so that thoughtless destruction of all life forms does not continue.

I was asked yesterday, “Are you a millenialist or a premillenialist?” My quick answer was, “neither.” That seemed to surprise the inquirer who, I suppose, thought that any pastor worth their salt would subscribe to one view or the other.  The inquiry did send me to Wikipedia, however, to review the two and be sure that I am, in fact, “neither.”   In short, the two schools of thought have to do with interpretations around Revelation 20:1-6, which talks about Christ’s return and a thousand year reign.  The history, energy, theological minutia, and sometimes hysteria that surrounds this stuff is mind-boggling. What really irks me are the many who have made a mint promoting specific scenarios based on this mystic vision (“The Late Great Planet Earth” and the “Left Behind” series being prime examples.)  For two thousand years people have gotten revved up in conjecture about Christ’s return.  It seems to me that these energies would better be expended if people remembered that Jesus himself was pretty clear: “Nobody knows the day or the hour….”  and then focus on another thing he said again and again: “The realm of heaven is at hand.”  I think Jesus would rather have us expend our energy in caring for God’s world in the present and trust God for the future – we don’t have to fret about that one bit. My quick answer was the right one – I am neither a millenialist nor a premillenialist. I’m a Lutheran, after all!

For those of us who live in the midwest, these are glorious spring days, especially with some badly needed rain. Everything is greening and the bird songs are lively. My wife and I spent a couple days last week in Lanesboro MN, biking a beautiful trail that follows the Root River. I had forgotten to bring any reading material, but we did find one store that had a few books. I read a book entitled “Crossing Over” which was about a woman’s transition out of the Amish community. Lanesboro has many Amish in the area, so each day we heard the wonderful clip-clop of horses below our inn’s window. It’s a bit sureal to have a community that’s able to live as though it were still 150 years ago. A part of me admires that our culture can accomodate this, and that a group of people can remain so distinctive within it. But the book did give a glimpse at how controlling the most conservative element of the Amish (the old order) can be in order to maintain their community. I believe any religious group has elements of this – that our care of doctrine can often ride herd on our care of people’s right to question and explore the many wonderful queries that faith intrinsically entails. In this day of global interconnectedness and global challenges, we need more grace and openness to others’ wisdom, while at the same time finding inspiration within our own tradition. I am thankful for a tradition that allows that and is not suspect of differing beliefs, pieties and mores.

At a recent committee meeting it was mentioned that a couple of folks have inquired about having the American Flag displayed again at church. I am as patriotic as anyone I know, and am open to the idea – as long as it’s not in the sanctuary. Let me explain.

One of the great blessings of our democracy is the freedom of religion. It’s OK to be reminded of that as we come to worship. However, it is also important to remember that our highest allegiance in life is to God. Too often certain churches and faith traditions have blurred the lines, thinking that our faith in God and our loyalty to country are synonymous. They are not, though we are grateful when our country lives out the values of our faith. We worship God, not country. Our loyalty to country is guided by the precepts of our faith. Our sanctuary is a place for religious symbolism, and, mindful of the first commandment, we are careful to limit the symbols to those of our faith. But upon leaving the sanctuary, if we see our country’s flag, we are reminded to assert the values of our faith in our citizenship, giving thanks for a country in which we are free to do so.

Not least in their contributions to the progress of civilizations, major world religions give some moral parameters to guide individual and corporate conduct. Some of these become a codified part of a country’s laws, and others are a part of cultural mores – such as the “seven deadly sins.” When these are broken, there are consequences, some imposed by society and some that come by way of erosion of character and harm to others. All are testimony to the interconnectedness of humans, and how each of our lives impact others for good or ill. The national and global struggles around economy that we currently experience become an opportunity to revisit these values and reestablish healthy lines of behavior and responsibility. If individuals and companies lose their sense of functioning for the good of the whole, if they become driven by greed for profit and exhorbitant salaries, even at the risk of others’ loses, the community is called on to intervene and establish boundaries – laws and regulations – that pull back immoral greed into patterns of fair commerce that exist to benefit the whole community.

Few of us will make the headlines on these major issues (thank goodness!) But all of us make moral decisions on a daily basis. The lines we draw in the sand can be guided by the laws and mores of religion and culture refined through centuries of trial and error. And given how easy it is to move lines written in sand, it is probably a good thing to rely on more than just ourelves to make decisions regarding how to behave.

I appreciated the feedback on “Words to Enter Church By” (the additional idea of Ephesians 4:32 being another good one to consider). On any Sunday, after the church entry, most people make their way to the sanctuary, where there are again opportunities for impressions and messages that are sent by virtue of what is done with and in that space. As we have been in the process of designing some “chancel furniture,” one of the questions that people often ask is, “what about the altar?”

Anita and I generally and consistently refer to this piece of furniture as “the table.” Our language choice has been motivated by the notion that the ancient purpose of an “altar” was for “sacrifice.” Jesus was pretty clear in his teachings: “Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice.’” With the completion of his ministry, any need for atoning sacrifice was taken care of, and the cross is the symbol of that reality. Thus, I prefer “table” as the label for that piece of furniture, remembering the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper and our gathering around it as a community for that ritual, as being more in keeping with what Jesus had in mind for our worship.

But this language shift on this piece of furniture seems slow in coming. Am I too narrow in my understanding of what an altar symbolizes? Is the language too deeply entrenched to change? Are we unrealistic to be lone voices trying to shift this paradigm of 2,000 years of church practice?