Let us lift up our thoughts and prayers: All that is holy, loving and true...
We give thanks for time: May it heal all wounds.
We give thanks for time: May it cause us to reflect.
We give thanks for time: May it allow us to put things into perspective.
We give thanks for time: May it lead us to understanding.
We give thanks for time: May it reward us with wisdom.
Now and forevermore: Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
I'm Starting With The Man In The Mirror
This summer I was at a party. A bunch of us were sitting around and I mentioned that, in addition to my duties as minister of Interfaith Congregation in Holland, I was going to become, in the fall, minister of Harbor Unitarian Universalist Congregation in Muskegon. One of the people there, a retired university professor, said, “You know, I know a little something about the Unitarians. They’re very intellectual. Why did they hire you?” I have no idea. I’m not really intellectual. I find that now that I’ve been hired here I try to read more and watch TV less. And I do listen to NPR now! (Someone in the congregation: “You’re on the right path!”)
I was at Schuler Books in Grand Rapids a few weeks ago and I was in the Theology/Philosophy/Religion part, and I noticed there was a book, “Christianity for Dummies” and another book, “World Religions for Dummies.” But I didn’t see a book called “Unitarian Universalism for Dummies.” ‘Cause it’s not! I later went on Amazon.com and looked. It doesn’t exist. So I don’t know what I’m going to do.
I’m beginning my seventh year of ministry. While I’m grateful that I’m the minister of two churches, I have to admit that I’m not where I thought I’d be in my ministry. I thought I’d be kind of like Gandhi, the Dalai Lama and Jesus by now. I thought I’d leave my house and dozens, if not hundreds of people would walk with me through town. There would be scribes writing down every profound thing I said. And everything I said would be profound. But that hasn’t happened.
I thought at the very least I wouldn’t be preaching sermons anymore. I’d just come to a place like this, maybe sit in a lotus position, and I’d just spew wise words, just off the top of my head. I didn’t think I’d still be agonizing over sermons. You know, this was an important sermon for me; I had to preach it in two different places. So I would wake up in the middle of the night and write things down on a little Post-It note. I can’t imagine Jesus doing that. I can’t imagine Jesus saying, “Oh, I’ve got that big Sermon on the Mount coming up.” I can’t imagine Jesus getting a big hammer and chisel and stone tablet and saying, (acts out chiseling on stone) “Oh, ‘Blessed are the peacemakers,’ that’ll preach! ‘Love your enemies,’ that’ll preach! ‘Forgive and you’ll be forgiven,’ that’ll preach!” So I’m not where I thought I’d be in my ministry. And I have to confess, I’m not where I thought I’d be in my personal life.
I thought by now I’d be perfect. Or at least close to perfect. I thought everything I did would be just right. And everything I said would be just right. No. About a month or two ago, I’m driving down the road, a four-lane divided road, and I’m in the left lane of two lanes. I stop at a stop light. After a few minutes the light turns green. I take off. After two or three seconds, the person behind me is honking her horn! What’s the matter? She’s doing one of these, (motions with hand to hurry up) like I’m not going fast enough. So I speed up a little bit, but apparently not fast enough, so she passes me on the right, pulls in front of me and then she slows down. So I get angry and get on the horn myself (makes a sound like a car horn blaring) for about a hundred yards. What am I thinking? What am I doing? I’m a minister! I’m not supposed to be about road rage. I’m supposed to be about street serenity.
A week or two ago, I went to the Women’s Equality Day Dinner in Muskegon, co-sponsored by the National Organization for Women, the local chapter, and my new church. Harbor Unitarian Universalist Congregation is a co-sponsor of this dinner. It was a wonderful dinner and a wonderful program. But before dinner we were sitting around our table, talking politics, and somebody mentions one of the presidential candidates. I won’t say her name, but I think she’s the only female running. Somebody says, “She believes women should be submissive to their husbands.” So I, Mr. Comedian, Mr. Funny Guy, Mr. Hilarity, say, “You know, that’s one point I agree with her on.” Stunned silence. I think I heard a couple of gasps. Everybody turns and looks at me and I say, “I’m just kidding!” But what was I thinking? Why did I say something like that? I mean, talk about inappropriate humor. You guys were there; you know I did this. Why don’t I learn? I’m not where I should be. I have some changes to make in my life.
The first time I ever heard Michael Jackson, he was part of the Jackson Five. I was in my teens and he was probably eight or nine. Back then I was a big fan of Casey Kasem. So I probably heard Michael Jackson for the first time on American Top Forty. (Imitating Casey Kasem’s voice) “This is Casey Kasem. Time now for that new smash by Michael Jackson and the Jackson Five.”
That’s not the song I want to talk about. The song I want to talk about came much later in Michael Jackson’s life. I think it’s one of the greatest songs he ever did. It’s a song called “Man in the Mirror.” Michael Jackson sings, “I’m starting with the man in the mirror. I’m asking him to change his ways. No message could have been any clearer. If you wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make that – change.” Michael Jackson was speaking to me. He’s still speaking to me.
If you came here today and thought I was going to preach to you, I’m sorry to disappoint you. If you came here today thinking I was going to preach to the choir, I’m sorry to disappoint you. If you came here today thinking I was going to preach to the whole congregation, I’m sorry to disappoint you. This sermon is just for me. I’m the one who needs to hear this. In fact, probably most of my sermons are for me. I need to hear them more than anybody else does. I need to change that man in the mirror. I need to say the things I should say and do the things I should do. I don’t always.
Jesus. He’s somebody some people don’t like to hear about. I think it’s because they think the preacher’s going to talk about Jesus the God. Jesus, one third of the Holy Trinity. But that’s not how I talk about Jesus. I think that Jesus was who he said he was, he was the Son of Man, the Son of Adam, just like all of us are sons and daughters of Adam, metaphorically speaking. So when I talk about Jesus, I’m talking about Jesus the man, who said some profound things. One day Jesus was speaking to his disciples, who followed him a lot of the time. He said, “Don’t worry about the speck in your neighbor’s eye. Be concerned about the log in your own eye. You hypocrite! You try to take out the speck in your neighbor’s eye and yet, you ignore the log in your own.” Jesus is speaking to me. I do that all the time. I can pick out the flaw, and that’s what Jesus was talking about – don’t worry about the flaw in your neighbor before you worry about the flaw in yourself. Take care of your own flaws before you deal with somebody else’s. But I do that all the time. I can spot somebody’s flaws a mile away. My own? Mmm. Not so much. And I need to change that.
Henry David Thoreau was a brilliant writer. He wrote Walden. He was a transcendentalist. And a Unitarian – probably one of the most famous Unitarians ever. Henry David Thoreau said that if you want to change your thinking, you need to think something over and over and over again. If you want to think good, positive thoughts, think them over and over and over again. Don’t just think them once. Henry David Thoreau was speaking to me. I think a good positive thought once. Then I go back to my usual bad negative thoughts. But I need to think those good thoughts over and over and over again in order to change. In order to become the person that I need to become.
My favorite movie ever would probably not make anyone’s top ten list of the greatest movies ever. It probably wouldn’t even make my top ten list of the greatest movies ever, but it’s my favorite movie ever because it spoke to me at the time when it came out. The movie was “Bruce Almighty.” Jim Carrey played Bruce and God was played by Morgan Freeman – no relation. As far as I know. Before I tell you about the movie, in case you haven’t seen it, let me tell you a bit about my life at that point. It’s 2003, I had been a TV feature reporter – I did funny stories in the news. At that time – 2003 – I was going through a painful personal relationship and I was wondering, if God exists, does God even know that I exist? Does God care that I exist? Does God care that I’m going through all this personal pain? So one Friday night I decide that I’m just going to escape my life. I’m going to go see “Bruce Almighty,” this new comedy with Jim Carrey – I love Jim Carrey! So I go to the movies and, if you’ve never seen “Bruce Almighty,” Jim Carrey plays a TV feature reporter. He does funny stories in the news. He’s going through a painful personal relationship. And he’s wondering if God knows whether he exists, cares whether he exists. I didn’t go there and escape my life. I went there and saw my life writ large on the big screen!
Toward the end of the movie, Jim Carrey is walking in the middle of the street, calling out to God to show him the light. He falls down on his knees and a light comes upon him. Unfortunately it was the light from a Mack truck! He gets hit. He goes to heaven. Morgan Freeman says, “You can’t kneel down in the middle of the street, son, and expect to live to tell about it.” Then Morgan Freeman says to Jim Carrey, “You have a divine spark. You have the ability to make people laugh.” He said, “I know. I created you.” Jim Carrey says, “Quit bragging.” Now of course I know that Morgan Freeman wasn’t speaking to Bill Freeman. I know that was just a coincidence. That wasn’t providence. I’m becoming more and more intellectual. Of course I know.
Jim Carrey says he basically wants to see other people through God’s eyes. I tell you all that to tell you this. A month or two ago, I thought of this person I used to know, somebody I didn’t really like. I thought to myself, I wonder what that person I don’t really like is up to. I go to his Facebook page, hoping that he’s miserable. I go to his Facebook page and I see his face and I gasp, because I see him for the first time, if you will, with God’s eyes, with compassionate eyes. I don’t see him as a person I dislike. I see him as my brother.
Now I don’t tell you that story so you’ll think, “Wow, our new minister is really open-minded and compassionate and caring.” I tell you this story to say that I don’t do that enough. I don’t see people enough as my brothers and sisters. Sometimes I see people as people I don’t like. And I don’t like that about myself and I need to change.
When I was in seminary, now remember I went to Western Theological Seminary in Holland, where I was probably the most liberal person. Everyone else was pretty orthodox and very Christian. I had a classmate who was about my age, maybe a couple of years younger, and he had a son in the military. This was at the height of the Iraq war. Even though I was opposed to the Iraq war, every once in a while I would walk up to my classmate, and I’d give him a big hug and I’d say, “How’s your son doing?” Then one day I overheard my classmate talking to another classmate about me. I’m not sure if he wanted me to overhear this or what, but he said, “You know, I disagree with him about everything – politically, theologically, philosophically – I disagree with him completely. I should hate this guy. But every now and then he walks up to me and gives me a great big hug and says, ‘How’s your son doing?’ So I like him.”
Now I didn’t tell you that story so you’ll think, “Wow, our minister is so open-minded, so caring and compassionate. He goes up to people he disagrees with – politically and theologically and philosophically – and he gives them a big hug and he wonders about their lives.” No, I tell you that story because I don’t do that enough. There are people I disagree with - philosophically, theologically, and especially politically – whom I don’t see as my brother and my sister and I need to.
About a month ago, probably all of us saw on TV or heard on NPR about how the government was basically melting down in Washington. Democrats and Republicans were at each other’s throats over whether or not to raise the debt ceiling. It was just ugly. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. You didn’t want to look at it. But then, like a flower growing in the desert, in comes Gabbie Giffords to the floor of the House. Everything stops and everybody hugs Gabbie Giffords and everybody says hi to Gabbie Giffords, the woman who eight months before had been shot in the head, and yet, there she was, having the courage of her conviction, doing the right thing. Now I’m not saying she did the right thing because she voted for raising the debt limit; that’s not what I mean. She did the right thing by coming to Congress, by doing her duty, by accepting her responsibility and doing it. I hope that Gabbie Giffords inspires me to always do the right thing.
I don’t have any obstacles to overcome really. I’m not walking around having been shot in the head. She was able to do the right thing and I hope she inspires me to do the right thing because one day, sooner rather than later I hope, I’d like to look in the mirror and see that I’ve made those changes, look in the mirror and see, I hope, a better man and a better minister.
I was at Schuler Books in Grand Rapids a few weeks ago and I was in the Theology/Philosophy/Religion part, and I noticed there was a book, “Christianity for Dummies” and another book, “World Religions for Dummies.” But I didn’t see a book called “Unitarian Universalism for Dummies.” ‘Cause it’s not! I later went on Amazon.com and looked. It doesn’t exist. So I don’t know what I’m going to do.
I’m beginning my seventh year of ministry. While I’m grateful that I’m the minister of two churches, I have to admit that I’m not where I thought I’d be in my ministry. I thought I’d be kind of like Gandhi, the Dalai Lama and Jesus by now. I thought I’d leave my house and dozens, if not hundreds of people would walk with me through town. There would be scribes writing down every profound thing I said. And everything I said would be profound. But that hasn’t happened.
I thought at the very least I wouldn’t be preaching sermons anymore. I’d just come to a place like this, maybe sit in a lotus position, and I’d just spew wise words, just off the top of my head. I didn’t think I’d still be agonizing over sermons. You know, this was an important sermon for me; I had to preach it in two different places. So I would wake up in the middle of the night and write things down on a little Post-It note. I can’t imagine Jesus doing that. I can’t imagine Jesus saying, “Oh, I’ve got that big Sermon on the Mount coming up.” I can’t imagine Jesus getting a big hammer and chisel and stone tablet and saying, (acts out chiseling on stone) “Oh, ‘Blessed are the peacemakers,’ that’ll preach! ‘Love your enemies,’ that’ll preach! ‘Forgive and you’ll be forgiven,’ that’ll preach!” So I’m not where I thought I’d be in my ministry. And I have to confess, I’m not where I thought I’d be in my personal life.
I thought by now I’d be perfect. Or at least close to perfect. I thought everything I did would be just right. And everything I said would be just right. No. About a month or two ago, I’m driving down the road, a four-lane divided road, and I’m in the left lane of two lanes. I stop at a stop light. After a few minutes the light turns green. I take off. After two or three seconds, the person behind me is honking her horn! What’s the matter? She’s doing one of these, (motions with hand to hurry up) like I’m not going fast enough. So I speed up a little bit, but apparently not fast enough, so she passes me on the right, pulls in front of me and then she slows down. So I get angry and get on the horn myself (makes a sound like a car horn blaring) for about a hundred yards. What am I thinking? What am I doing? I’m a minister! I’m not supposed to be about road rage. I’m supposed to be about street serenity.
A week or two ago, I went to the Women’s Equality Day Dinner in Muskegon, co-sponsored by the National Organization for Women, the local chapter, and my new church. Harbor Unitarian Universalist Congregation is a co-sponsor of this dinner. It was a wonderful dinner and a wonderful program. But before dinner we were sitting around our table, talking politics, and somebody mentions one of the presidential candidates. I won’t say her name, but I think she’s the only female running. Somebody says, “She believes women should be submissive to their husbands.” So I, Mr. Comedian, Mr. Funny Guy, Mr. Hilarity, say, “You know, that’s one point I agree with her on.” Stunned silence. I think I heard a couple of gasps. Everybody turns and looks at me and I say, “I’m just kidding!” But what was I thinking? Why did I say something like that? I mean, talk about inappropriate humor. You guys were there; you know I did this. Why don’t I learn? I’m not where I should be. I have some changes to make in my life.
The first time I ever heard Michael Jackson, he was part of the Jackson Five. I was in my teens and he was probably eight or nine. Back then I was a big fan of Casey Kasem. So I probably heard Michael Jackson for the first time on American Top Forty. (Imitating Casey Kasem’s voice) “This is Casey Kasem. Time now for that new smash by Michael Jackson and the Jackson Five.”
That’s not the song I want to talk about. The song I want to talk about came much later in Michael Jackson’s life. I think it’s one of the greatest songs he ever did. It’s a song called “Man in the Mirror.” Michael Jackson sings, “I’m starting with the man in the mirror. I’m asking him to change his ways. No message could have been any clearer. If you wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make that – change.” Michael Jackson was speaking to me. He’s still speaking to me.
If you came here today and thought I was going to preach to you, I’m sorry to disappoint you. If you came here today thinking I was going to preach to the choir, I’m sorry to disappoint you. If you came here today thinking I was going to preach to the whole congregation, I’m sorry to disappoint you. This sermon is just for me. I’m the one who needs to hear this. In fact, probably most of my sermons are for me. I need to hear them more than anybody else does. I need to change that man in the mirror. I need to say the things I should say and do the things I should do. I don’t always.
Jesus. He’s somebody some people don’t like to hear about. I think it’s because they think the preacher’s going to talk about Jesus the God. Jesus, one third of the Holy Trinity. But that’s not how I talk about Jesus. I think that Jesus was who he said he was, he was the Son of Man, the Son of Adam, just like all of us are sons and daughters of Adam, metaphorically speaking. So when I talk about Jesus, I’m talking about Jesus the man, who said some profound things. One day Jesus was speaking to his disciples, who followed him a lot of the time. He said, “Don’t worry about the speck in your neighbor’s eye. Be concerned about the log in your own eye. You hypocrite! You try to take out the speck in your neighbor’s eye and yet, you ignore the log in your own.” Jesus is speaking to me. I do that all the time. I can pick out the flaw, and that’s what Jesus was talking about – don’t worry about the flaw in your neighbor before you worry about the flaw in yourself. Take care of your own flaws before you deal with somebody else’s. But I do that all the time. I can spot somebody’s flaws a mile away. My own? Mmm. Not so much. And I need to change that.
Henry David Thoreau was a brilliant writer. He wrote Walden. He was a transcendentalist. And a Unitarian – probably one of the most famous Unitarians ever. Henry David Thoreau said that if you want to change your thinking, you need to think something over and over and over again. If you want to think good, positive thoughts, think them over and over and over again. Don’t just think them once. Henry David Thoreau was speaking to me. I think a good positive thought once. Then I go back to my usual bad negative thoughts. But I need to think those good thoughts over and over and over again in order to change. In order to become the person that I need to become.
My favorite movie ever would probably not make anyone’s top ten list of the greatest movies ever. It probably wouldn’t even make my top ten list of the greatest movies ever, but it’s my favorite movie ever because it spoke to me at the time when it came out. The movie was “Bruce Almighty.” Jim Carrey played Bruce and God was played by Morgan Freeman – no relation. As far as I know. Before I tell you about the movie, in case you haven’t seen it, let me tell you a bit about my life at that point. It’s 2003, I had been a TV feature reporter – I did funny stories in the news. At that time – 2003 – I was going through a painful personal relationship and I was wondering, if God exists, does God even know that I exist? Does God care that I exist? Does God care that I’m going through all this personal pain? So one Friday night I decide that I’m just going to escape my life. I’m going to go see “Bruce Almighty,” this new comedy with Jim Carrey – I love Jim Carrey! So I go to the movies and, if you’ve never seen “Bruce Almighty,” Jim Carrey plays a TV feature reporter. He does funny stories in the news. He’s going through a painful personal relationship. And he’s wondering if God knows whether he exists, cares whether he exists. I didn’t go there and escape my life. I went there and saw my life writ large on the big screen!
Toward the end of the movie, Jim Carrey is walking in the middle of the street, calling out to God to show him the light. He falls down on his knees and a light comes upon him. Unfortunately it was the light from a Mack truck! He gets hit. He goes to heaven. Morgan Freeman says, “You can’t kneel down in the middle of the street, son, and expect to live to tell about it.” Then Morgan Freeman says to Jim Carrey, “You have a divine spark. You have the ability to make people laugh.” He said, “I know. I created you.” Jim Carrey says, “Quit bragging.” Now of course I know that Morgan Freeman wasn’t speaking to Bill Freeman. I know that was just a coincidence. That wasn’t providence. I’m becoming more and more intellectual. Of course I know.
Jim Carrey says he basically wants to see other people through God’s eyes. I tell you all that to tell you this. A month or two ago, I thought of this person I used to know, somebody I didn’t really like. I thought to myself, I wonder what that person I don’t really like is up to. I go to his Facebook page, hoping that he’s miserable. I go to his Facebook page and I see his face and I gasp, because I see him for the first time, if you will, with God’s eyes, with compassionate eyes. I don’t see him as a person I dislike. I see him as my brother.
Now I don’t tell you that story so you’ll think, “Wow, our new minister is really open-minded and compassionate and caring.” I tell you this story to say that I don’t do that enough. I don’t see people enough as my brothers and sisters. Sometimes I see people as people I don’t like. And I don’t like that about myself and I need to change.
When I was in seminary, now remember I went to Western Theological Seminary in Holland, where I was probably the most liberal person. Everyone else was pretty orthodox and very Christian. I had a classmate who was about my age, maybe a couple of years younger, and he had a son in the military. This was at the height of the Iraq war. Even though I was opposed to the Iraq war, every once in a while I would walk up to my classmate, and I’d give him a big hug and I’d say, “How’s your son doing?” Then one day I overheard my classmate talking to another classmate about me. I’m not sure if he wanted me to overhear this or what, but he said, “You know, I disagree with him about everything – politically, theologically, philosophically – I disagree with him completely. I should hate this guy. But every now and then he walks up to me and gives me a great big hug and says, ‘How’s your son doing?’ So I like him.”
Now I didn’t tell you that story so you’ll think, “Wow, our minister is so open-minded, so caring and compassionate. He goes up to people he disagrees with – politically and theologically and philosophically – and he gives them a big hug and he wonders about their lives.” No, I tell you that story because I don’t do that enough. There are people I disagree with - philosophically, theologically, and especially politically – whom I don’t see as my brother and my sister and I need to.
About a month ago, probably all of us saw on TV or heard on NPR about how the government was basically melting down in Washington. Democrats and Republicans were at each other’s throats over whether or not to raise the debt ceiling. It was just ugly. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. You didn’t want to look at it. But then, like a flower growing in the desert, in comes Gabbie Giffords to the floor of the House. Everything stops and everybody hugs Gabbie Giffords and everybody says hi to Gabbie Giffords, the woman who eight months before had been shot in the head, and yet, there she was, having the courage of her conviction, doing the right thing. Now I’m not saying she did the right thing because she voted for raising the debt limit; that’s not what I mean. She did the right thing by coming to Congress, by doing her duty, by accepting her responsibility and doing it. I hope that Gabbie Giffords inspires me to always do the right thing.
I don’t have any obstacles to overcome really. I’m not walking around having been shot in the head. She was able to do the right thing and I hope she inspires me to do the right thing because one day, sooner rather than later I hope, I’d like to look in the mirror and see that I’ve made those changes, look in the mirror and see, I hope, a better man and a better minister.
Friday, September 9, 2011
We Give Thanks For Self-Evaluation
Let us lift up our thoughts and prayers.
All that is holy, loving and true:
We give thanks for self-evaluation,
for the capacity to realize that we’re not perfect.
We give thanks for self-evaluation,
for the capacity to realize that we make mistakes sometimes.
We give thanks for self-evaluation,
for the capacity to realize that we can learn from our mistakes.
We give thanks for self-evaluation,
for the capacity to realize that we do many things right.
We give thanks for self-evaluation,
for the capacity to realize that each one of us is unique.
Now and forevermore:
Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
All that is holy, loving and true:
We give thanks for self-evaluation,
for the capacity to realize that we’re not perfect.
We give thanks for self-evaluation,
for the capacity to realize that we make mistakes sometimes.
We give thanks for self-evaluation,
for the capacity to realize that we can learn from our mistakes.
We give thanks for self-evaluation,
for the capacity to realize that we do many things right.
We give thanks for self-evaluation,
for the capacity to realize that each one of us is unique.
Now and forevermore:
Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
We Give Thanks For Hinduism
Let us lift up our thoughts and prayers.
All that is holy, loving and true:
We give thanks for Hinduism,
and for Hindus like Gandhi, who work for peace.
We give thanks for Hinduism,
and for Hindus like Ben Kingsley, who brought Gandhi to life on the big screen.
We give thanks for Hinduism,
and for Hindus like Deepak Chopra, who teach us to live better lives.
We give thanks for Hinduism,
and for Hindus like George Harrison, who sing of love and joy.
We give thanks for Hinduism,
and for Hindus like Fred Stella, who promote interfaith dialogue.
Now and forevermore:
Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
All that is holy, loving and true:
We give thanks for Hinduism,
and for Hindus like Gandhi, who work for peace.
We give thanks for Hinduism,
and for Hindus like Ben Kingsley, who brought Gandhi to life on the big screen.
We give thanks for Hinduism,
and for Hindus like Deepak Chopra, who teach us to live better lives.
We give thanks for Hinduism,
and for Hindus like George Harrison, who sing of love and joy.
We give thanks for Hinduism,
and for Hindus like Fred Stella, who promote interfaith dialogue.
Now and forevermore:
Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
The Three Kings I Follow
(This was a sermon I preached at Fountain Street Church on June 26 and just now got around to putting on my blog. Oh those lazy days of summer.)
First I want to thank Fountain Street Church for inviting me to speak here today and Fred Wooden and Matthew and the Summer Speaker Series folks. As you may know, I was a member here at Fountain Street Church for about fifteen years. I was on the Board of Trustees; I was on the Social Action Committee; so it’s good to be home. I want to thank all of you for taking the time to be here. I’m always pleasantly surprised when anybody shows up to hear me speak.
As you may also know, I’m the founding chaplain of Interfaith Congregation in Holland. I called it Interfaith Congregation because I was afraid that if I called it Fountain Street West, Fred would sue me.
When I was a kid, my grandma would take us to Cascade Christian Church on Sunday mornings. When I was seven or eight years old, I was in the Christmas pageant. I was one of the three wise men, not exactly typecasting, but anyway, I had to memorize a song. (singing) “We three kings of Orient are, bearing gifts we traverse afar.” That one. I’m a merciful guy so I’ll stop there.
I want to talk to you this morning about the three kings I follow. Those are not the three kings. As legend has it, they were going to see Christ the King. The Magi. Jesus. Christians are supposed to follow Christ the King, but that’s not one of the kings I follow. I follow Jesus. I mean, how can you not follow a guy who says, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” “Love your enemies.” “Love one another.”
I have coffee in Holland every now and then with an orthodox Christian friend of mine. (Pretty much, that’s all that’s in Holland, but anyway.) He emails me whenever I have a piece in the Grand Rapids Press or the Holland Sentinel. He wants to get together and set me straight. A few weeks ago, he was talking about Jesus. I said, “I believe in Jesus.” He said, “Yes, but what’s his last name?” (Christ, of course.)
Some of you may know that I went to Western Theological Seminary, for practical reasons. I didn’t want to go to Chicago or New York or Boston or San Francisco because my daughter was here and I didn’t want to be separated from her, so I went to Holland, to Western Theological Seminary. Back then, I went to Duncan Littlefair to sort of get his permission to do that, because I was afraid I wasn’t doing the right thing and so I said, “Duncan, you know I’m going to go to Western Theological Seminary.” He looked at me and he said, “That’s brilliant, Bill! Go where the enemy is!”
So I went to Western Theological Seminary, where I was called “the high priest of heresy.” I think it was a joke, but you never know. I was assigned to preach my first sermon in chapel on April Fool’s Day. They said it was just a coincidence, that the “high priest of heresy” was assigned to preach his first sermon in chapel on April Fool’s Day. After the service, the then president of the seminary came up to me and said, “Nice job, but I think my Christology is a little higher than yours.” I said, “Yes, but I have a high “Jesus-ology.” I follow a guy who says, “Blessed are the peacemakers,” but he’s not one of the three kings I want to talk to you about today.
In August of 1963, one of the greatest sermons ever was preached in Washington, D.C., although we don’t call it a sermon, we call it a speech. We call it his “I have a dream” speech. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “I have a dream that one day all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing.” Those are the words I live by at Interfaith Congregation. I think you all do, too, here at Fountain Street Church. To have a group of people who come together regardless of the color of their skin, regardless of their faith tradition. I think that’s where the religious world, the spiritual world, is heading, to come to a place where everybody knows that we’re all one, that they aren’t divided by denominations or separated by spiritual traditions, that they’re all one. That’s what I try to do at Interfaith Congregation and you try to do here, I’m sure. It’s because of those words that Dr. King is the first king I follow.
Back when I was in high school, many, many, many years ago, an album came out that was the number one best-selling album ever, until Michael Jackson’s album “Thriller.” It’s called “Tapestry.” I think I still have a vinyl copy of it someplace, maybe you do, too. By Carole King, of course. On that album are many number one hits, including the song, “You’ve Got a Friend.”
“When you’re down and troubled, and you need some loving care,” Carole King says, “You’ve got a friend.” I like that because really that describes what a church is supposed to be, at least in part. A church is supposed to be a place where you can go when you feel down and troubled and you need some loving care. Now church isn’t just about that. If it’s just about that, then it’s a social club. It’s no different than the Kiwanis Club or the Rotary. But a church is at least partly about that, a place for people to come where they can mourn with those who suffer and rejoice with those who celebrate. That’s what I know you try to do here and Matthew tries to do here at Fountain Street Church and what I try to do at Interfaith Congregation. A church isn’t just a social club.
It’s not just a lecture hall either. Some people think a church is just a lecture hall. Let me share with you my favorite Fountain Street Church story. You’ve probably heard this. The late Bill Kooistra told me that he had a Catholic friend. (You know Bill Kooistra was a long-time member here at Fountain Street Church, of course.) He had a Catholic friend and they would get together and needle each other every now and then. His Catholic friend would say to Bill, “So, Bill, how were things Sunday at the lecture hall?” And Bill would say, “Great! How were things Sunday at the magic show?” Now church isn’t just a lecture hall. And it’s not really a magic show, although I think what we heard this morning [the music] was very magical. A church is a community of love, where people come together and I think Carole King describes it very well, and that’s why Carole King is the second king that I follow.
Back in 1992, a motorist in Los Angeles was stopped by the police. He was dragged out of his car, laid on the ground, and beaten nearly to death. We only know about that because people videotaped Rodney King being beaten nearly to death by police officers. The police officers were put on trial. As you probably know, they were found not guilty and rioting resulted. I remember seeing a white truck driver being pulled out of his cab by some African American youth and he was beaten nearly to death. In fact, back then in a previous life, I was a radio talk show host. Somebody called my show and said, “See, now we’re even. It’s even steven. A black motorist was beaten nearly to death by cops, and a white guy was beaten nearly to death by some African American youth. Now we’re even.” I said, “No, I don’t think so. We don’t pay the police to be thugs, which is what they were when they beat up Rodney King.” As you know, the police were put on trial again, for violating Rodney King’s civil rights. This time they were found guilty. During all this tension, Rodney King went to the microphones and in a halting, hesitant way, he said, “Can we all get along? Can we all get along?” It was a profound question back then. It still applies today.
Some Muslims want to put up a cultural center in New York City near ground zero. Many people, including many Christians, went berserk. They tried to claim that this was going to result in some terrorist activity, as if the Muslims didn’t have the right to peaceably assemble, as if they didn’t have the First Amendment right of freedom of religion. Can we all get along? Can we all get along?
A so-called Christian pastor down in Florida was going to burn a Qur’an. He didn’t then, but later on he did, which resulted in some innocent people in the Middle East being killed by some Muslim extremists. I can only wonder what would happen if a Christian New Testament were burned in the Middle East, what the results would be. Can we all get along? Can we all get along?
When Barack Obama was elected president, according to the Southern Poverty Law Center, threats against his life compared to threats against the previous president increased by 400 per cent. Four hundred percent. On election day 2008, I was standing on one of the busiest street corners in Holland, holding a sign indicating who I supported for president. (Who I supported doesn’t matter, although you’ll probably figure it out.) I’m standing there, a pickup truck drives up and stops at the corner and the driver leans over to the passenger side window, which was rolled down, and said to me, “I ain’t gonna vote for no “n-word,” although he didn’t say “n-word.” Can we all get along? Can we all get along?
As was mentioned, as you probably know, I went before the Holland City Council a little more than a year ago and I asked them to add the words “sexual orientation” and “gender identity” to their ordinances that protect people from being discriminated against on the basis of race and age and religion and different things. I didn’t expect the mayor to give me the key to the city or anything, and I didn’t expect him to look like that old V-8 vegetable commercial, “Oh, Bill, why didn’t I think of this before? Thank you for bringing this to our attention!” But I lived in Grand Rapids almost 20 years ago now when the City of Grand Rapids passed a similar ordinance. I thought, “Why not Holland?” After handing it off to the Human Relations Commission for almost a year, who studied it and reported back unanimously that the city council should pass it, the city council had one meeting, just one public meeting, at which, as you probably know, they voted 5-4 not to do that. Well, I kind of stormed out of that meeting angry, but I’m a minister, so of course I wasn’t “angry,” I was “righteously indignant.” I went up to the TV cameras and said, “I’m going to collect petition signatures and put this on the ballot.” Now I don’t know whether or not that will pass in Holland. I’d like to think Holland is better than that 5-4 vote. Can we all get along? Can we all get along? It’s those words that make Rodney King the third king that I follow.
Who do you follow? What words inspire you? What kings or queens do you listen to? Perhaps the prophet Micah, who preached about doing justice and loving kindness and walking humbly. Maybe you follow your own conscience, which of course we all have to do. But what is it that inspires you to do whatever needs to be done to make this world a better place?
One of my favorite presidents, who unfortunately had only one inaugural address, but what an inaugural address it was, President Kennedy, at the end of his inaugural address, I think succinctly states what I’m trying to say. He said, “Let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking God’s blessing, and God’s help, but knowing that, here on earth, God’s work must truly be our own.” Now I know this is Fountain Street Church and I’m not really supposed to mention God, but try to get past that word and replace it with Love or Truth or the Universe or Source and let’s get to the essence of what he was saying. What he was saying is, we can’t rely on some Creator or some Source or some Spirit to do the work for us; we have to do it ourselves. We have to work to make the world a better place if the world is going to be a better place.
A few weeks ago, like more than a million people, I was astounded looking at my computer screen, looking at youtube, looking at a video that Roger Ebert said was the greatest music video that he’s ever seen. Of course you know that I’m talking about what’s called the “Grand Rapids Lip Dub.” You know, as an old TV guy, it was just unbelievable, one continuous shot, that ends up in a helicopter flying over Grand Rapids. Rob Bliss, whose vision this was, with the help of hundreds and corporate sponsors and foundations and everything, made this video. Inspired people, I think. Changed perceptions. Changed Newsweek’s perception, I guess, that Grand Rapids is a dying city. That’s what Rob Bliss did to inspire, to change perceptions, to make the world a better place. What will we do? Now I know out of Fountain Street Church has come Planned Parenthood and Project Rehab (speaking of Bill Kooistra). I know that individuals do things in their careers and in their daily lives that make the world a better place. But what will we do now? What’s next? What is it that you and I will do - whoever it is we follow - to make the world a better place?
First I want to thank Fountain Street Church for inviting me to speak here today and Fred Wooden and Matthew and the Summer Speaker Series folks. As you may know, I was a member here at Fountain Street Church for about fifteen years. I was on the Board of Trustees; I was on the Social Action Committee; so it’s good to be home. I want to thank all of you for taking the time to be here. I’m always pleasantly surprised when anybody shows up to hear me speak.
As you may also know, I’m the founding chaplain of Interfaith Congregation in Holland. I called it Interfaith Congregation because I was afraid that if I called it Fountain Street West, Fred would sue me.
When I was a kid, my grandma would take us to Cascade Christian Church on Sunday mornings. When I was seven or eight years old, I was in the Christmas pageant. I was one of the three wise men, not exactly typecasting, but anyway, I had to memorize a song. (singing) “We three kings of Orient are, bearing gifts we traverse afar.” That one. I’m a merciful guy so I’ll stop there.
I want to talk to you this morning about the three kings I follow. Those are not the three kings. As legend has it, they were going to see Christ the King. The Magi. Jesus. Christians are supposed to follow Christ the King, but that’s not one of the kings I follow. I follow Jesus. I mean, how can you not follow a guy who says, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” “Love your enemies.” “Love one another.”
I have coffee in Holland every now and then with an orthodox Christian friend of mine. (Pretty much, that’s all that’s in Holland, but anyway.) He emails me whenever I have a piece in the Grand Rapids Press or the Holland Sentinel. He wants to get together and set me straight. A few weeks ago, he was talking about Jesus. I said, “I believe in Jesus.” He said, “Yes, but what’s his last name?” (Christ, of course.)
Some of you may know that I went to Western Theological Seminary, for practical reasons. I didn’t want to go to Chicago or New York or Boston or San Francisco because my daughter was here and I didn’t want to be separated from her, so I went to Holland, to Western Theological Seminary. Back then, I went to Duncan Littlefair to sort of get his permission to do that, because I was afraid I wasn’t doing the right thing and so I said, “Duncan, you know I’m going to go to Western Theological Seminary.” He looked at me and he said, “That’s brilliant, Bill! Go where the enemy is!”
So I went to Western Theological Seminary, where I was called “the high priest of heresy.” I think it was a joke, but you never know. I was assigned to preach my first sermon in chapel on April Fool’s Day. They said it was just a coincidence, that the “high priest of heresy” was assigned to preach his first sermon in chapel on April Fool’s Day. After the service, the then president of the seminary came up to me and said, “Nice job, but I think my Christology is a little higher than yours.” I said, “Yes, but I have a high “Jesus-ology.” I follow a guy who says, “Blessed are the peacemakers,” but he’s not one of the three kings I want to talk to you about today.
In August of 1963, one of the greatest sermons ever was preached in Washington, D.C., although we don’t call it a sermon, we call it a speech. We call it his “I have a dream” speech. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “I have a dream that one day all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing.” Those are the words I live by at Interfaith Congregation. I think you all do, too, here at Fountain Street Church. To have a group of people who come together regardless of the color of their skin, regardless of their faith tradition. I think that’s where the religious world, the spiritual world, is heading, to come to a place where everybody knows that we’re all one, that they aren’t divided by denominations or separated by spiritual traditions, that they’re all one. That’s what I try to do at Interfaith Congregation and you try to do here, I’m sure. It’s because of those words that Dr. King is the first king I follow.
Back when I was in high school, many, many, many years ago, an album came out that was the number one best-selling album ever, until Michael Jackson’s album “Thriller.” It’s called “Tapestry.” I think I still have a vinyl copy of it someplace, maybe you do, too. By Carole King, of course. On that album are many number one hits, including the song, “You’ve Got a Friend.”
“When you’re down and troubled, and you need some loving care,” Carole King says, “You’ve got a friend.” I like that because really that describes what a church is supposed to be, at least in part. A church is supposed to be a place where you can go when you feel down and troubled and you need some loving care. Now church isn’t just about that. If it’s just about that, then it’s a social club. It’s no different than the Kiwanis Club or the Rotary. But a church is at least partly about that, a place for people to come where they can mourn with those who suffer and rejoice with those who celebrate. That’s what I know you try to do here and Matthew tries to do here at Fountain Street Church and what I try to do at Interfaith Congregation. A church isn’t just a social club.
It’s not just a lecture hall either. Some people think a church is just a lecture hall. Let me share with you my favorite Fountain Street Church story. You’ve probably heard this. The late Bill Kooistra told me that he had a Catholic friend. (You know Bill Kooistra was a long-time member here at Fountain Street Church, of course.) He had a Catholic friend and they would get together and needle each other every now and then. His Catholic friend would say to Bill, “So, Bill, how were things Sunday at the lecture hall?” And Bill would say, “Great! How were things Sunday at the magic show?” Now church isn’t just a lecture hall. And it’s not really a magic show, although I think what we heard this morning [the music] was very magical. A church is a community of love, where people come together and I think Carole King describes it very well, and that’s why Carole King is the second king that I follow.
Back in 1992, a motorist in Los Angeles was stopped by the police. He was dragged out of his car, laid on the ground, and beaten nearly to death. We only know about that because people videotaped Rodney King being beaten nearly to death by police officers. The police officers were put on trial. As you probably know, they were found not guilty and rioting resulted. I remember seeing a white truck driver being pulled out of his cab by some African American youth and he was beaten nearly to death. In fact, back then in a previous life, I was a radio talk show host. Somebody called my show and said, “See, now we’re even. It’s even steven. A black motorist was beaten nearly to death by cops, and a white guy was beaten nearly to death by some African American youth. Now we’re even.” I said, “No, I don’t think so. We don’t pay the police to be thugs, which is what they were when they beat up Rodney King.” As you know, the police were put on trial again, for violating Rodney King’s civil rights. This time they were found guilty. During all this tension, Rodney King went to the microphones and in a halting, hesitant way, he said, “Can we all get along? Can we all get along?” It was a profound question back then. It still applies today.
Some Muslims want to put up a cultural center in New York City near ground zero. Many people, including many Christians, went berserk. They tried to claim that this was going to result in some terrorist activity, as if the Muslims didn’t have the right to peaceably assemble, as if they didn’t have the First Amendment right of freedom of religion. Can we all get along? Can we all get along?
A so-called Christian pastor down in Florida was going to burn a Qur’an. He didn’t then, but later on he did, which resulted in some innocent people in the Middle East being killed by some Muslim extremists. I can only wonder what would happen if a Christian New Testament were burned in the Middle East, what the results would be. Can we all get along? Can we all get along?
When Barack Obama was elected president, according to the Southern Poverty Law Center, threats against his life compared to threats against the previous president increased by 400 per cent. Four hundred percent. On election day 2008, I was standing on one of the busiest street corners in Holland, holding a sign indicating who I supported for president. (Who I supported doesn’t matter, although you’ll probably figure it out.) I’m standing there, a pickup truck drives up and stops at the corner and the driver leans over to the passenger side window, which was rolled down, and said to me, “I ain’t gonna vote for no “n-word,” although he didn’t say “n-word.” Can we all get along? Can we all get along?
As was mentioned, as you probably know, I went before the Holland City Council a little more than a year ago and I asked them to add the words “sexual orientation” and “gender identity” to their ordinances that protect people from being discriminated against on the basis of race and age and religion and different things. I didn’t expect the mayor to give me the key to the city or anything, and I didn’t expect him to look like that old V-8 vegetable commercial, “Oh, Bill, why didn’t I think of this before? Thank you for bringing this to our attention!” But I lived in Grand Rapids almost 20 years ago now when the City of Grand Rapids passed a similar ordinance. I thought, “Why not Holland?” After handing it off to the Human Relations Commission for almost a year, who studied it and reported back unanimously that the city council should pass it, the city council had one meeting, just one public meeting, at which, as you probably know, they voted 5-4 not to do that. Well, I kind of stormed out of that meeting angry, but I’m a minister, so of course I wasn’t “angry,” I was “righteously indignant.” I went up to the TV cameras and said, “I’m going to collect petition signatures and put this on the ballot.” Now I don’t know whether or not that will pass in Holland. I’d like to think Holland is better than that 5-4 vote. Can we all get along? Can we all get along? It’s those words that make Rodney King the third king that I follow.
Who do you follow? What words inspire you? What kings or queens do you listen to? Perhaps the prophet Micah, who preached about doing justice and loving kindness and walking humbly. Maybe you follow your own conscience, which of course we all have to do. But what is it that inspires you to do whatever needs to be done to make this world a better place?
One of my favorite presidents, who unfortunately had only one inaugural address, but what an inaugural address it was, President Kennedy, at the end of his inaugural address, I think succinctly states what I’m trying to say. He said, “Let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking God’s blessing, and God’s help, but knowing that, here on earth, God’s work must truly be our own.” Now I know this is Fountain Street Church and I’m not really supposed to mention God, but try to get past that word and replace it with Love or Truth or the Universe or Source and let’s get to the essence of what he was saying. What he was saying is, we can’t rely on some Creator or some Source or some Spirit to do the work for us; we have to do it ourselves. We have to work to make the world a better place if the world is going to be a better place.
A few weeks ago, like more than a million people, I was astounded looking at my computer screen, looking at youtube, looking at a video that Roger Ebert said was the greatest music video that he’s ever seen. Of course you know that I’m talking about what’s called the “Grand Rapids Lip Dub.” You know, as an old TV guy, it was just unbelievable, one continuous shot, that ends up in a helicopter flying over Grand Rapids. Rob Bliss, whose vision this was, with the help of hundreds and corporate sponsors and foundations and everything, made this video. Inspired people, I think. Changed perceptions. Changed Newsweek’s perception, I guess, that Grand Rapids is a dying city. That’s what Rob Bliss did to inspire, to change perceptions, to make the world a better place. What will we do? Now I know out of Fountain Street Church has come Planned Parenthood and Project Rehab (speaking of Bill Kooistra). I know that individuals do things in their careers and in their daily lives that make the world a better place. But what will we do now? What’s next? What is it that you and I will do - whoever it is we follow - to make the world a better place?
Sunday, August 21, 2011
We Give Thanks For Music
Let us lift up our thoughts and prayers.
All that is holy, loving and true:
We give thanks for music,
for those who make a joyful noise with their voice.
We give thanks for music,
for those who make a joyful noise with their instrument.
We give thanks for music,
for those who make a joyful noise on the radio and on records.
We give thanks for music,
for those who make a joyful noise even when they’re singing the blues.
We give thanks for music,
for those of us who think we make a joyful noise when we sing in the shower.
Now and forevermore:
Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
All that is holy, loving and true:
We give thanks for music,
for those who make a joyful noise with their voice.
We give thanks for music,
for those who make a joyful noise with their instrument.
We give thanks for music,
for those who make a joyful noise on the radio and on records.
We give thanks for music,
for those who make a joyful noise even when they’re singing the blues.
We give thanks for music,
for those of us who think we make a joyful noise when we sing in the shower.
Now and forevermore:
Let it be. So be it. And: Amen.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Ain't Misbehavin' or Ain't Misbelievin'?
(The following is a column I submitted to the Holland Sentinel, which was edited and published on August 13, 2011.)
The other day I was home and thought of a sermon title. The way I come up with a sermon, in case you’re interested (which you’re probably not), is usually the opposite of the way I imagine most ministers do. The sermon title comes to me first from out of the blue (from on high?), then the sermon takes shape after that. On this particular day, the sermon title had the word oxygen in it, but every time I wrote the word oxygen, it didn’t look right. So I called out to my wife in the next room, “Honey, how do you spell oxygen?”
“O-x-y-g-e-n.”
“Thanks.”
“Why? Are you having trouble breathing?”
“Yes, I’m having trouble breathing and I thought: if only I can spell the word oxygen, I’m certain my lungs will clear up.”
She laughed.
(I told my daughter that story and she laughed, too, but she laughed because I didn’t know how to spell oxygen. Well, not all of us were smart enough to get into the University of Michigan.)
People sometimes ask funny questions. Recently I was asked, “Are you a Christian?” Now that’s funny, because I’m a minister, although admittedly not the most orthodox one. Usually when people ask me if I’m a Christian, I say, “I don’t like to use that word to describe myself, because it was originally a derisive term. Instead I like to call myself a follower of Jesus. And Gandhi. And the Dalai Lama. And Mother Teresa. And Dr. King.”
Sometimes people conclude from that: He is not a Christian. That’s okay. I’ve always felt that if you have to tell people you’re a Christian all the time, you’re probably not a very good one. Shouldn’t people just know? Like that song, “They will know we are Christians by our love.” Plus, I’m seeking standing as a minister in the Unitarian Universalist Association and many people believe you can’t be a Unitarian (not a Trinitarian) and be a Christian. That’s okay too. When I used to call myself a Christian, many people didn’t believe I was one anyway, because I was unorthodox (translation: theologically liberal). So what difference does it make?
Of course, to some it makes all the difference in the world. For them, it’s a matter of life and eternal life.
But what does it take to be a Christian? Is it about what you believe or how you behave? Is it about what you think or what you do? Is it about what you proclaim or what you demonstrate?
I’ve heard at least one Christian song that says Jesus lived just to die. Really? It didn’t matter how he lived? Instead of making sure the 5,000 got something to eat, Jesus could’ve simply said, “Fend for yourselves!” as if he were Ayn Rand and that would’ve been okay?
Recently someone told me we can’t emulate Jesus. “How could we do that? He’s God and we’re not. We can only accept that Jesus died for our sins and go about our daily lives.”
But if we just do that, don’t we run the risk of considering ourselves Christian, even if we burn a Quran in church, disrupt military funerals with homophobic epithets or kill dozens of people in Norway?
Perhaps James, identified in the Christian New Testament as the brother of Jesus, said it best, “Faith without works is dead.” Even an unorthodox minister like me can say “Amen” to that.
The other day I was home and thought of a sermon title. The way I come up with a sermon, in case you’re interested (which you’re probably not), is usually the opposite of the way I imagine most ministers do. The sermon title comes to me first from out of the blue (from on high?), then the sermon takes shape after that. On this particular day, the sermon title had the word oxygen in it, but every time I wrote the word oxygen, it didn’t look right. So I called out to my wife in the next room, “Honey, how do you spell oxygen?”
“O-x-y-g-e-n.”
“Thanks.”
“Why? Are you having trouble breathing?”
“Yes, I’m having trouble breathing and I thought: if only I can spell the word oxygen, I’m certain my lungs will clear up.”
She laughed.
(I told my daughter that story and she laughed, too, but she laughed because I didn’t know how to spell oxygen. Well, not all of us were smart enough to get into the University of Michigan.)
People sometimes ask funny questions. Recently I was asked, “Are you a Christian?” Now that’s funny, because I’m a minister, although admittedly not the most orthodox one. Usually when people ask me if I’m a Christian, I say, “I don’t like to use that word to describe myself, because it was originally a derisive term. Instead I like to call myself a follower of Jesus. And Gandhi. And the Dalai Lama. And Mother Teresa. And Dr. King.”
Sometimes people conclude from that: He is not a Christian. That’s okay. I’ve always felt that if you have to tell people you’re a Christian all the time, you’re probably not a very good one. Shouldn’t people just know? Like that song, “They will know we are Christians by our love.” Plus, I’m seeking standing as a minister in the Unitarian Universalist Association and many people believe you can’t be a Unitarian (not a Trinitarian) and be a Christian. That’s okay too. When I used to call myself a Christian, many people didn’t believe I was one anyway, because I was unorthodox (translation: theologically liberal). So what difference does it make?
Of course, to some it makes all the difference in the world. For them, it’s a matter of life and eternal life.
But what does it take to be a Christian? Is it about what you believe or how you behave? Is it about what you think or what you do? Is it about what you proclaim or what you demonstrate?
I’ve heard at least one Christian song that says Jesus lived just to die. Really? It didn’t matter how he lived? Instead of making sure the 5,000 got something to eat, Jesus could’ve simply said, “Fend for yourselves!” as if he were Ayn Rand and that would’ve been okay?
Recently someone told me we can’t emulate Jesus. “How could we do that? He’s God and we’re not. We can only accept that Jesus died for our sins and go about our daily lives.”
But if we just do that, don’t we run the risk of considering ourselves Christian, even if we burn a Quran in church, disrupt military funerals with homophobic epithets or kill dozens of people in Norway?
Perhaps James, identified in the Christian New Testament as the brother of Jesus, said it best, “Faith without works is dead.” Even an unorthodox minister like me can say “Amen” to that.
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