Perceptions from a Pewboy

Check out this story from Reuters:

A Chilean prostitute has auctioned 27 hours of sex to raise money for the country’s largest charity during an annual fund-raising campaign.

Maria Carolina became an overnight celebrity in the conservative Roman Catholic country, making news headlines and appearing on talk shows since she made her unusual donation to the televised charity event, which runs for 27 hours starting on Friday evening.

‘I’ve already auctioned off the 27 hours of love,’ Maria Carolina told Reuters on Wednesday, saying she had raised about $4,000. ‘One of my clients already paid. It seemed like a good deed to him.’

Adult prostitution is legal in Chile. Chile’s two-day Telethon fundraiser is endorsed by television stars and aims to raise funds for poor, disabled children.

Speaking about Maria Carolina’s unusual donation, campaign organizer Mario Kreutzberger said he would not encourage ‘immoral’ activities, but said he would accept her pledge.

I suppose that a story like this this requires no commentary from yours truly.

I simply invite you to insert your own joke here ______________________________________________.

Are any of you fans of Steve Martin?

I was a bit too young to appreciate his career in stand-up comedy. I have, however, enjoyed many of his films. In fact, even as I type these words, I am chuckling over the memory of several scenes from “Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid” and “All of Me” (two of Martin’s best films, in my opinion).

Martin has just published an autobiographical work entitled “Born Standing Up.” As part of the publicity tour for the book, Martin granted an interview to NPR in which he offered the following observation concerning the nature of his unique comedic style:

I spent time philosophically analyzing my little comedy act, thinking, ‘What could I change, what would be different, what would be original, what would be new?’ And I realized that comedians of the day were operating on jokes and punch lines.

The moment you say the punch line, the audience either laughs sincerely or they laugh automatically or they don’t laugh. The thing that bothered me was that automatic laugh. I said, that’s not real laughter. What if I could get real laughter, like the kind you have at home or with your friends, where your sides are aching.’

‘That’s a much stronger kind of laugh …. It worked. It helped me create something new.’

I find it very interesting to hear an experienced comedian speaking about the development of his or her craft. Martin, in particular, was part of a new wave of comedians in the late seventies and early eighties (along with people like Andy Kaufman and Sam Kinison and, to a certain extent, David Letterman) that saw comedy, not as a series of linear narratives culminating in high impact punch lines, but as a performance art leading to an illumination of absurdity. Their comedy rarely resulted in tidy conclusions and one-liners. Rather, the laughter they inspired was produced by the awkwardness, the embarrassment, or the irony that surrounded the various personas and scenarios that their comedy produced.

When Andy Kaufman gets into a “staged” but realistic fight with a professional wrestler, the audience’s sense of fear and awkwardness is what inspires a smile or a giggle when, years later, we’re let in on the joke.

When Sam Kinison starts screaming about his childhood or his family life, the humor is to be found in his exaggerated demeanor.

When David Letterman walks over to the cue card guy, takes the cue card, and rips it up (all the while saying “I’m going to destroy this joke so that no younger comedian hurts himself on it”), he is signaling a transition—specifically, a transition from the linear and punch line-oriented comedy of Johnny Carson to a more postmodern and unstructured comedic approach.

And when Steve Martin plays an elaborate banjo solo while wearing a white suit and a fake arrow through his head, the audience is not waiting for a punch line. In fact, Martin’s absurd persona IS the punch line.

These comedians paved the way for shows like “Seinfeld,” where the comedy is not about the jokes, but the relationships, the language, the shared history, and the exaggerated awkwardness of the circumstances. How many times have you heard punch-line-preferring people say, “I just don’t get the whole Seinfeld appeal?” People raised on punch lines, after all, expect all comedy to result in one.

In much the same way, I suppose, we people of faith so often want to force-fit our theology into neatly organized equations and sound bites (complete with theological “punch lines,” if you will). The deeper mysteries of our story, however, (the Trinity, the Incarnation, and the Atonement, to name a few) defy such reductionistic treatment. Just as some comedy cannot be crammed into linear stand-up routines replete with punch lines, some mysteries of faith cannot be reduced to convenient formulas and frameworks.

At any rate, I’ll probably pick up “Born Standing Up” at some point. Perhaps this humble preacher can learn a thing or two from a comedian who avoids punch lines in pursuit of a deeper experience of the comedic.

I have seen some good films in recent days. “American Gangster” is an epically broad piece of work, one that enables both Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe to flex their cinematic muscles. “Michael Clayton” is a contemporary morality play in which George Clooney offers a powerful performance as a weary attorney suddenly overwhelmed by circumstances that compel him to understand that he still has a conscience.

In the opinion of this humble moviegoer, however, the most creative and intriguing film in current release is “I’m Not There,” a relentlessly quirky and unapologetically challenging film, the content of which covers a significant portion of historical, emotional, and spiritual ground.

Directed by Todd Haynes (who also co-wrote the film), “I’m Not There” examines the ever-changing life and myth of Bob Dylan, the enigmatic troubadour whose music has always defied convenient analysis and whose life has proven even more difficult to scrutinize. My sense is that if the film had been nothing more than a straightforward biopic (starring Leonardo DiCaprio or Justin Timberlake or some other young star), something would have been lost in translation, since Dylan’s chameleonic transitions do not lend themselves to linear cinematic examination.

The reason that “I’m Not There” works, however, it that Haynes wisely refused to leave the task of portraying Dylan to just one actor. Instead, he employs six different actors, each of whom brings to life a different segment of Dylan’s odyssey. First up is Marcus Carl Franklin, a 14-year-old phenom who portrays Dylan as a vagabond black boy named Woody (as in Guthrie). In Franklin’s portrayal, we find a soul that stubbornly refuses to be defined or stifled by the circumstances that surround it—a soul that yearns for the poetic amidst stark prose. Next we meet British actor Ben Whishaw whose character (Arthur) stands as a tribute to Dylan’s fascination with French poetry (and, in particular, the French symbolist poet Arthur Rimbaud).

Christian Bale (that’s right, Batman gets in on the act!) portrays two characters in the film. One of those characters is an “artsy” prophet named Jack. Bale’s other character is Pastor John, a Christian convert who is passionate about a countercultural Jesus. Both characters manifest two sides of Dylan: First, his eagerness to be a prophetic voice in the wilderness of social upheaval; and, second, his much-debated journey into Christianity (a journey that produced three albums: “Slow Train Coming” in 1979; “Saved” in 1980; and “Shot of Love” in 1981).

Next in the film, we encounter Heath Ledger. (Interestingly, Ledger plays the Joker in the next Batman film. Coincidence? You be the judge!). Here’s where the film gets confusing. In “I’m Not There,” Ledger’s character is an actor named Robbie who is portraying Dylan in a film. (Are you with me?) Robbie’s relationship with the painter Claire illuminates Dylan’s marriage to Sarah Lownds and their eventual divorce.

Cate Blanchett, the enormously talented Australian actress, brings to us the character of Jude, an angst-ridden musician who converses philosophically with beat poet Allen Ginsberg (David Cross), who rails against prying reporters, and who develops a complex love/hate relationship with audiences. Blanchett’s performance is nothing short of mesmerizing.

In the final (and most peculiar) section of the film, Richard Gere offers to us the character of Billy (the Kid), who manifests the troubled Dylan who went into “hibernation” in Woodstock, New York following his 1966 motorcycle crash. Gere’s character makes more sense if it is remembered that Dylan was in Sam Peckinphah’s “Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid” back in 1973.

The film is not for those who like their cinema wrapped up in neat and tidy packages. At times, in fact, the film is a little bit too impressed with what it perceives to be its own cleverness and unconventionality. Nevertheless, the film makes for a rich and worthwhile journey into the life of a man whose voice cannot be ignored if we wish to understand the artistic and philosophical development of our nation.

As I drove home from the film, I found myself dissecting my own life. I wonder if there have been discernable phases and transitions in the development of my personhood. I wonder if there have been various manifestations of the identity that God has enabled me to form. “I’m Not There,” in other words, quickly became a lens through which to examine my own personal odyssey. It is not often that a film inspires within me such authentic introspection.

My life’s journey is not interesting enough to be the subject matter of a film, I suppose. But it has been a wondrous discovery of grace. Perhaps Dylan’s life has brought him to the same kind of discovery. I pray that it has.

I’ve often wondered what it is that leads people to embrace what I have come to call a separatist eschatology. By separatist eschatology, I mean a view of the end of time that inspires individuals and communities to separate themselves from society while cultivating an apocalyptic fervor concerning what they perceive to be the nearness of doomsday or the end of the world or the 2nd coming of Jesus Christ.

Throughout history, there has been no shortage of apocalyptic movements. From the People’s Temple in Guyana to Heaven’s Gate to the Branch Davidians, many portions of the human community have demonstrated a proclivity to passionate convictions concerning the impending end of the world or final judgment. Even the popular “Left Behind” series reflects the dispensationalist leanings of its authors, Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins.

In case you are of the opinion that apocalyptic avidity is waning, take a moment to read this article about a recent development in Moscow:

By Tatyana Ustinova

MOSCOW - At least 30 members of a Russian doomsday cult have barricaded themselves in a remote cave to await the end of the world and are threatening to commit suicide if police intervene, officials and media said Thursday.

‘They have covered the entrance and refuse to come out and are threatening to blow themselves up,’ an official in the local prosecutor’s office told Reuters by telephone. ‘They threaten to detonate a gas tank and blow themselves up.’

The cult members, who include 29 adults and four children, are hidden inside a snow-covered hillside in the Penza region of central Russia. A Penza police spokeswoman said they had moved into the dug-out on November 7.

‘No one wants to take on the responsibility of provoking them … because our information is that there are children among them,’ said the official.

They are thought to have taken food and fuel supplies in with them and Russian television pictures from the scene showed smoke or steam coming out of a hole in the snow-covered ravine where it was built.

A police patrol was guarding the area to prevent anyone provoking them.

‘They are simple Christians,’ a local priest, Father Georgy, told NTV television station. ‘They are of the opinion that the church is doing a bad job, that the end of the world is coming soon, and that they are doing the right thing by saving themselves.’

Media reports said the cult members believed the world would end sometime in May next year. Police expect them to emerge when their supplies ran out

As we teeter on the brink of Advent, I find myself contemplating the various “comings” of Jesus once again: The way he CAME to us in the past, the way he COMES to us in the present, and the way he WILL COME to us one day in the future. My convictions about the coming Christ, however, do not lead me (or my congregation, for that matter) into a desire to live in a cave, or to separate from society, or to predict the specific date of an eschatological happening.

Which brings me to this question: Why? Why are so many people inclined to place at the center of their faith a very elaborate (and, I would say, distorted) apocalypticism?

Perhaps some of you have some ideas about this. My sense is that a number of factors must be considered. For example, some apocalyptic fervor probably emerges from a misguided effort to place human suffering and brokenness into some kind of chronological progression that is nearing its completion or contemplation. It may be, in other words, that some apocalypticism represents an effort to make theological sense out of what seems to be heartbreakingly senseless.

In other circumstance, of course, biblical literalism concerning the book of Revelation is the major driver. If one is not cognizant of the characteristics and symbolism of apocalyptic literature, and if one insists upon viewing that literature as a literal prediction to be figured out and placed on a calendar, then it is possible to make the book of Revelation into a cryptic blueprint for future events.

Beyond this, I sometimes wonder if some of the more passionate expressions of apocalypticism are more anthropological and sociological than they are theological. For example, how many people in that Moscow cave are there because of their anthropological hunger for a knowledge of how the human story ends? How many of them are there because of their sociological desperation for an authoritative community and a charismatic leader?

Obviously, I am not an apocalypticist. Or a millennialist. Or a dispensationalist. That said, my prayer is that God will enable me and us to live with a sense of urgency, as though Jesus were coming tomorrow. That way, if he comes, we’ll be ready. And if he doesn’t, then we will still have spent the day living the life that God created us to live.

It is an interesting question for pastors to ponder, isn’t it?

In my vocational journey, what lessons have I learned?

That question, of course, leads to other important inquiries: What do I wish that someone had told me early on? What counsel would I want to be certain to offer to those men and women who are just beginning their ministry? What insights have I gleaned from the living out of my calling?

I was privileged to serve as the overseer of our annual conference’s probationer program from 2002 until 2006. (The blogroll’s very own Jeff Vanderhoff now occupies that position. I am grateful for Jeff’s faithful ministry to our probationers.) During one of the probationer retreats that I facilitated years ago, a twentysomething probationer caught me off guard with this request:

“Eric, you’ve been a pastor for over ten years, right?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’d like to know what you have learned in ministry over the years. I’m new at this stuff. I want to hear what some seasoned pastors have to say about the most important lessons that they’ve learned about local church ministry.”

That conversation inspired me to do some significant journaling for a couple of weeks. My journaling resulted in the list of insights that I am about to share with you.

Some of these insights may resonate with particular depth for you. If so, I celebrate that. On the other hand, you may discover that some of these insights miss the mark or fall short of being accurately descriptive of what you have experienced. That’s OK too. Disagreement or clarification, after all, often leads to a more substantive discernment.

Please understand that I offer these insights, not with the arrogance of one who fancies himself a “seasoned veteran” or an ecclesiastical guru, but with the humility of one who considers himself privileged to be sharing with you—and learning from you—in the journey of ministry. I would love to hear about some of your own ministry insights, if you would be willing to share them.

Insight #1:
Stewardship of the spiritual disciplines (such as prayer, meditation on Scripture, solitude, community, fasting, worship, sacramental celebration, and journaling) is the responsibility that is most crucial to the vitality of one’s ministry and the one that is most frequently neglected.

Insight #2:
In one’s first five years of ministry, the patterns and rhythms that one establishes in the practice of the spiritual disciplines will set the spiritual tone of one’s entire ministry. Change is always possible, of course. But the likelihood of altering an insufficient practice of the disciplines decreases significantly with each season spent in this condition of insufficient spiritual practice. To put it another way, if one’s life of prayer is currently on the back burner as a result of an unmanaged schedule, the front burner often becomes increasingly more difficult to access as time goes on.

Insight #3:
The most important “art” in the life of ministry is the art of forgiveness—both the giving of it and the receiving of it. (Note: Forgiveness does not mean forgetting. Rather, forgiveness means remembering in a healthier way, without hatred, without bitterness, and without the desire to retaliate.) Pastors must take seriously the responsibility of forgiving their people (some of whom will be penitent, some of whom will not). Just as important, of course, is the pastor’s responsibility of requesting forgiveness from those whom he or she has wronged and receiving that forgiveness when it is offered.

Insight #4:
If one is en route to becoming a deacon, it is essential for him/her to recognize (with patience) that United Methodism is still endeavoring to make theological sense of this calling. I see this as a hopeful challenge rather than a punitive resistance.

Insight #5:
For the sake of the health and vitality of one’s ministry, it is imperative that pastors resist stubbornly what I consider to be the fastest-acting spiritual poison in the church: chronic and unbridled negativity. What does chronic negativity sound like among clergy? It sounds something like this:

“Why didn’t I get that appointment/salary?”

Or this: “He/she doesn’t deserve that appointment as much as I do.”

Or this: “It’s all the district superintendent’s fault…or the bishop’s fault…or the trustees’ fault…or Protestant liberalism’s fault…or evangelicalism’s fault…or Hollywood’s fault.”

Or this: “Why do I have to participate in the Probationer Program? It’s nothing but a series of hoops through which the Board of Ordained Ministry expects me to jump.”

The journey from negativity to cynicism is notoriously short, and cynicism corrupts the spirit of relentless joy by which we are called to live as followers of Jesus Christ. Furthermore, chronic negativity can lead to self-fulfilling prophecy. For example, if one automatically assumes that something will be a negative experience, then, chances are, it will be, if only because of the limits created by one’s negative presuppositions.

Insight #6:
With all due respect to the urgency of heartfelt pastoral care, preaching and worship oversight are still the most widely-observed tasks on a pastor’s job description and therefore deserve far more time and preparation than many pastors are willing to devote to them.

Insight #7:
Nearly every preacher with whom I have spoken cites preaching as one of his or her primary strengths in ministry. My hunch is that only about 60-65% of the preachers who hold this opinion about themselves are correct. I say this, not to be unkind, and certainly not to champion my own preaching abilities. Rather, I say it to highlight an area of ministry in which self-awareness is often somewhat distorted.

Insight #8:
It is enormously important for a preacher and teacher to devote a substantial amount of time to reading and hearing the preaching and teaching of others. I suggest this, not so that one will be led to duplicate another’s style, but so that preachers and teachers will immerse themselves in the educational and transformational art of other artists. Personally, I subscribe to THE LIVING PULPIT and HOMILETICS, both of which I find to be helpful resources in the discipline of preaching. I also subscribe to the sermon tape ministry of both Willow Creek and Church of the Resurrection. This enables me to experience the preaching and teaching ministry of other respected communicators, many of whom approach communication very differently than I do.

Insight #9:
Whether a pastor wants to or not, he or she must be diligent in visitation to the hospitalized and the homebound. Preaching and teaching might be more widely-observed than visitation. But faithful visitation is what parishioners will remember most.

Insight #10:
A pastor’s ministry of pastoral care will deepen if he or she is intentional about devoting at least an hour or two at the beginning of every week to the task of writing personal notes or cards to various parishioners who may be particularly blessed by such a tangible act of ministry. Words of thanks, encouragement, affirmation, and hope are often easily and effectively communicated through this process.

Insight #11:
Good preachers are normally good writers. If a pastor is a good writer, then he or she would do well to utilize those writing skills often in the life of ministry. If, however, a pastor is not a good writer, then practice and growth in this area are essential. (If this is an area of struggle for the pastor, it is not a bad idea for the pastor to partner with a good writer—someone who might be willing to review all written work before it ever goes public.) One’s ability to write well is inseparably linked to one’s growth as a preacher.

Insight #12:
Pastors must engage in good and prayerful preparation before their meetings with the Committee on Lay Leadership (formerly the Committee on Nominations and Personnel). The administrative health of a church, not to mention the pastor’s sanity, depends upon the good work of this committee. This matter deserves careful thought all year long, so that a pastor’s vision for the administrative network of a church will always be well-developed.

Insight #13:
Lone-rangerism is one of the most pervasive stumbling blocks in the way of healthy ministry. Pastors must guard against it with a passion. In this regard, it is impossible to overstate the importance of a pastor’s participation in a covenant group that will hold the pastor gently and lovingly accountable for his or her discipleship and walk with Christ.

Insight #14:
Back to preaching: Most preachers are not gifted enough orators to preach from only an outline, since much of good preaching depends upon the nuances of good segues and artful linguistic transitions. Therefore, pastors would do well to create the sermon in its entirety, segues and all. Beyond this, the sermon becomes more effective when it is internalized to such an extent that the preacher is able to preach it conversationally and without enslavement to a manuscript.

Insight #15:
Pastors who make the time to attend a regular worship event in which they have no leadership responsibility whatsoever will ultimately find this to be a precious and wonderfully rejuvenating practice.

Insight #16:
The book of Proverbs proclaims that, without vision, people will perish. Therefore, churches are in desperate need of visionary pastors—pastors who are always about the business of dreaming and seeing beyond where the church is currently living. Pastors, then, would do well to keep a running journal of their visions. They would also do well to bring those visions before a team of “visioners” in the church for the purpose of clarification and development.

Insight #17:
Much like the early church, the church of 2007 is in a season of holy experimentation. Pastors must therefore help their congregations to develop a “let’s try it for Jesus” mentality when it comes to the development of new ministries. The failure of a particular ministry experiment never bothers me. A church that refuses to experiment, however, breaks my heart.

Insight #18:
The dangerous blending of patriotism and discipleship in the contemporary church can distort our prophetic sensibilities. The proximity of the American flag to our altars, for example, is often more than a matter of interior design. Churches need pastors who, while remaining patriotically sensitive and appreciative, can nevertheless help congregations to understand the church’s proclamation of a kingdom that transcends national identity.

Insight #19:
Church growth is as much about who leaves as it is about who comes.

Insight #20:
Western Pennsylvania has one of the most compelling cultural blends in all of United Methodism: the parochialism and fortitude of Appalachia on the one hand, and a midwestern proclivity to grassroots sensibilities on the other. This is our context for ministry, and it is a blessed one.

A theme frequently visited in the blogosphere is the spiritual danger of boundary-less busyness and hyperactivity. Several bloggers have spoken meaningfully and powerfully about the spiritual dryness that an unmanaged schedule can often produce.

At our church’s Men’s Prayer Breakfast, we are studying John Ortberg’s “The Life You’ve Always Wanted.” In that book, Ortberg highlights what he describes as “the hurry sickness.” One of the most significant symptoms of the hurry sickness, according to Ortberg, is a greatly reduced capacity to love:

The most serious sign of hurry sickness is a diminished capacity to love. Love and hurry are fundamentally incompatible. Love always takes time, and time is one thing hurried people don’t have…Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life. Hurry lies behind much of the anger and frustration of modern life. Hurry prevents us from receiving love from the Father or giving it to his children. That’s why Jesus never hurried. If we are to follow Jesus, we must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from our lives—because, by definition, we can’t move faster than the one we are following.

Of course, as soon as I find myself convicted by this sort of prophetic word, the sense of conviction immediately gives way to a host of seemingly unanswerable “how to” questions: How do I eliminate hurry in a life that is replete with appointments and deadlines? How do I avoid a rushed pace when there are only so many hours in a day, so many days in a week, and so many things to accomplish if I am going to stand in the pulpit on Sunday with any degree of preparedness? How do I slow the pace of my living when so much in my life would suggest that I’m already moving too slowly as it is?

These are some of the questions that are framing my prayer this week. I’m not waiting for easy answers. But I am convinced that part of the solution for me is to make certain that my sabbath time is completely liberated from an overscheduled condition (so that my sabbath might establish a more Christ-honoring pace for my week instead of functioning as a reinforcement for the hurriedness to which I am prone). I am also of the conviction that sabbath, much like prayer, must become a way of life for me instead of simply a day set apart. How might every day be different in its pace, for example, if I set aside a few minutes every hour or two to close my eyes, or to pray, or to sing, or to walk, all for the purpose of making myself available for the small but perhaps transformational sabbaths that God makes possible?

I’m a pilgrim on the journey. I simply want to avoid the sin of journeying too quickly. There are too many important moments to experience along the way.

On Friday night, Tara and I saw Prime Stage Theater’s stage production of “Inherit the Wind.” It was a great way to spend an evening. The play was well-directed and the actors were obviously thoroughly invested in their roles. Best of all, two of my dear friends had key roles in the play. They were exceptionally good, and I was enormously proud of them.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the production, “Inherit the Wind” (both the play and the film of the same name) is a fictionalized version of an important historical event—specifically, the 1925 Scopes Trial. The defendant in the trial was a young teacher by the name of John Scopes who had been accused of teaching Darwin’s Theory of Evolution in spite of a Tennessee law prohibiting such teaching. Scopes’ attorney was none other than Clarence Darrow, a nationally-known trial lawyer who had a passion for challenging the constitutionality of the law that Scopes had been accused of breaking. The prosecutor in the trial was William Jennings Bryan, a famous orator and politician who, though unsuccessful in his three attempts to become President, had nevertheless become a popular public figure as a result of his religious convictions and his support of the ban on the teaching of evolution.

Obviously, the Scopes Trial functioned as a microcosm of a much larger cultural scenario. Darrow and Bryan became the voices of a multi-dimensional tension that found expression in a variety of contexts. It was the tension between scientific theory and the convictions of faith; between biblical literalism and biblical interpretation; between conformity to the status quo and freedom of intellectual exploration. Some have suggested that, in terms of its cultural impact, the Scopes Trial was nothing less than the most public doorway through which America entered into the rudimentary phases of postmodernity and post-Christendom.

Lest any of us believe the issues of the Scopes Trial are no longer significant, I share with you these comments, made recently by Sam Harris (a young philosopher, author, and current doctoral student in neuroscience):

It’s possible that people will come to their senses and realize that organizing humanity around competing religious certainties–beliefs about which books were dictated by the creator of the universe or by what name God wants to be called–is suicidal…The fact is that one’s level of conviction or certainty isn’t the final arbiter of whether or not something is true. The truth of a statement isn’t something you feel in your brain. It’s something out in the world, which you test with science and reason…Forty years from now, we’ll realize that taking religion seriously was like taking astrology seriously.
(Sam Harris in an interview with Robert Boynton. The interview appears in the November 15th issue of “Rolling Stone.”)

The question for people of faith, of course, is this: How can a Christ-follower respond to such sentiments in a way that honors the integrity of the Gospel while at the same time avoiding a tone of smug and desperate defensiveness. (I am convinced that such emotional defensiveness will not be any more effective in 2007 than it was during the Scopes Trial.) I do not have any easy answers or convenient solutions. But here are some thoughts that are hopefully somewhere close to the heart of the issue:

1. It is incumbent upon the Church to resist the temptation to demonize science and scientific theory. Doing so creates an environment of avoidance and paranoia that makes the church appear intellectually deficient and culturally detached.

2. Scientific exploration and study (even the study of evolutionary theory) is beneficial for Christ-followers, as long as they keep in mind that science and faith are not enemies, but rather responses to an entirely different set of inquiries. Science responds to the questions that live in the realm of “how” and “when.” Faith, on the other hand, addresses the inquiries that emerge from the realm of “who” and “why.” These realms are not at all mutually exclusive.

3. “Truth” is not always synonymous with “historical fact.” This reality is often forgotten in our biblical interpretation, particularly when it comes to making sense of the more poetic biblical narratives that were never intended to answer all of the scientific questions that post-enlightenment disciples are inclined to ask. It is possible, in other words, for Genesis 1 and 2 to be the inspired and authoritative Word of God, even if those chapters are not looked upon as being the same kind of detailed historical record that the Gospels provide. Perhaps the world really was created in six literal days. But, even if it were not, the Holy Truth that the Genesis account proclaims is in no way diminished. If we insist on a literalistic interpretation of Scripture at every point, we force people into an “either/or” proposition that, quite frankly, is neither tenable nor reasonable.

4. Although I support the intent of its formulators, I fear that much of the “Intelligent Design” strategy is a misplaced effort to force a theological worldview into scientific discourse and a last-ditch effort to get the public school system to do the church’s job. If it is indeed “public” education, then probably the most we can insist upon in our science classes is a neutral environment in which speculation about the primary Origin is left to philosophy and religion classes.

5. It must be remembered that Jesus Christ, the living Word, is our foundational hermeneutic in the interpretation of Scripture. If Christ is the lens through which we read Scripture, all of our debates about the creation narratives are kept in their proper perspective. When we are in relationship with the One through whom all creation happened and toward whom all creation is moving, it helps us to resist the temptation to place the focus on the wrong things.

Interestingly, the phrase “inherit the wind” comes from Proverbs 11:29: “He who troubles his own house will inherit wind.” The question for all of us, I suppose, is this: In an age in which science and faith are necessary neighbors, are we making certain that that we are troubling the right house and inheriting the right wind?

On this All Saints’ Day, are there some particular saints of the faith for whom you are thanking God?

I am thanking God for my Mom and Dad, who have always worked hard to create for me a loving and nurturing home environment in which Christ is honored, in which a spirit of playfulness is encouraged, and in which laughter and prayer are as natural as breathing (and every bit as urgent).

I am also thanking God for Dr. Stanley Lore. At one time, Dr. Lore chaired the psychology department at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Of greater import to me, however, is the fact that he was my junior high Sunday School teacher. Along with my parents, Dr. Lore taught me how to pray with conviction, how to tithe with a spirit of joy, and how to read Scripture with a sense of reverence. He was one of those “real deal” disciples who helped me to understand the urgency of consistency in the life of following Jesus. Dr. Lore, in other words, showed me what it means to live a life in which there is no great difference between who I am in the sanctuary and who I am everywhere else.

These are a few of the saints who occupy my thoughts this day. I am grateful for them. I am also grateful for the entire cloud of witnesses who have gone on before us and who have bequeathed to us a rich and beautiful legacy of discipleship.