I encourage you to read the full article, which can be found here at STLtoday.  The article is generally about congregations that are encouraging congregants to text questions and comments to a mediator who directs them to a laptop in front of the preacher in the middle of the sermon.  Preachers claim that this improves their preaching by putting them in dialogue with the congregation.  Congregants like it because they can ask questions about the sermon and the fact that they don’t have to publicly ask “dumb” questions.

While I can see the advantage of such a dialogue with members, I have a few reservations about the practice, which are as follows:

1) One of the pastors interviewed in the article said, “It gives me a little more of a teaching role,” he said. “It gets back to Jesus Christ and the Sermon on the Mount where I picture Jesus having a conversation with the people. With texting, it becomes much more of a dialogue.”  My greatest concern is that our preaching becomes more teaching than preaching.  While this might help pastors reach the majority of worship attendees do not attend educational opportunities outside of worship, I still think that teaching is fundamentally different than preaching.  Teaching is the time when we learn about things we don’t know, when we ask the questions, and wrestle with things from different perspectives.  On the other hand, preaching is the time when we listen to God’s word.  The preacher’s role is not to do a Bible study, but to tell the people their own stories in a way that they begin to see God’s living presence in their own lives.  It should be less analytical and more experiencial.  I also question what this approach does for the fluidity and focus of a sermon, and what people hear in it.

2) An obvious concern is the reality of distraction.  How many of the people are actually truthfully texting about the sermon?  More importantly, I feel this makes us more apt to talk rather than listen.  Typing on a phone requires some concentration, which is taken from the content of the sermon, removing people from the experience being shared by the preacher.  Rather than spending our time listening to what God has to say to us, we are the one’s talking, expecting God to answer.  By no means am I saying we should never ask questions, but that there are more appropriate times for that, and that the sermon is a time to listen to God’s Word.

3) I imagine that this form of asking questions is preferred by a lot of people because they feel ashamed of their questions.  Although it is important that people feel comfortable asking the hard questions, prompting people to ask them in this manner encourages this feeling and behavior, rather than helping people know that the Gospel calls them to ask these questions and confess their deep-seated struggles with it.  A lot of the difficult questions that people ask come from profoundly important experiences, and without knowing who asks, it is more difficult to know how best to answer it (or whatever question/issue is really looming beneath it).  This method of questioning removes the relational quality of our faith that is so highly valued among emerging churches, and is means of God’s presence in our lives through one another.

So, in summary, I think it is a nice idea.  I’m glad that churches are trying to engage people and get them to think about sermon, as well as giving people permission to ask the hard questions.  However, I’m not convinced that it is the best way to do it.  I think the much more faithful and meaningful (as well as difficult) approach is to challenge the culture in our congregations and our world that prevents people from doing this naturally through human interaction.  Perhaps the use of text messages would be best left to other areas of the church (as briefly mentioned in the article), such as sharing announcements and reminding people about events, as well as staying in touch while not gathered together.  I welcome your thoughts and comments about this practice of using texting in church.

~Mike

Last month, I discovered an interesting article about the collect prayer form used in so many liturgical traditions.  Its form is used in the introductory prayer in many Lutheran corporate confessions (Almighty God, to whom all hearts are open, all desires known and from whom no secrets are hid . . . ).  Because the emerging church has tended to rediscover ancient spiritual practices that can speak to us today in ways that transcend a modern mentality, I found the article to be thought-provoking and, thus, share it with this community.

In the Christian Century article, John D. Witvliet mentions that while it’s structure and pattern might not be something that the emerging community would thrive on, its mystery can be attractive to postmodern audiences.  Beginning with a history and outline of the form, Witvliet goes to to describe how the form can be conducive to extemporaneous and relevant prayers in the contemporary church.  Throughout the article, he talks about how it’s very form resists supersessionism and that it generates a eschatological momentum.

The article, “A pattern of prayer: Collective wisdom,” can be found in the July 29, 2008 issue of the Christian Century. If you don’t have access to a paper copy, you can view the article in PDF format by clicking here: Collective Wisdom - Christian Century Article

~Mike

Ever since I read this blog post about ecclesia as res publica, I’ve been thinking a lot about a Lutheran understanding of ecclesiology (the doctrine of the church, how we organize ourselves as the church) in relation to an emerging understanding.  It seems to me that while some expressions of the church in an emerging theology may look very different from the traditional Lutheran expression, they are not wholly different.

The author of the blog entry mentioned above discusses a particular “giveness” to emerging ecclesiologies.  That is to say that they are flexible by nature, not set in stone as some expressions of the church (such as in Roman Catholicism).  This flexible nature (as far as I’ve read) comes out of a deep desire by many in the emerging conversation to serve the Gospel.  While there may be an air of rebellion against current ecclesiologies, I do think that the flexibility of the emerging ecclesiologies is in service to the Gospel and mission.

Lutheran ecclesiology also (perhaps contrary to popular belief) has a certain flexibility.  Martin Luther, Philipp Melanchthon, and the other Reformers were hesitant to define a clear doctrine of the church.  Instead they desired to see the church structure herself in whatever way would best serve the Gospel.  This is why the ALC and LCA (predecessor church bodies to the ELCA) shifted from using the term President choosing to call them Bishops.  It is also why the ELCA adopted Called to Common Mission (CCM) which entered into fully communion with the Episcopal Church USA (even though many in the church felt that we gave up too much).  Proponents of CCM in the ELCA stated the need to be one church in an age of pluralism and diversity.  They saw the mission of God and the church as key in making the decision.  They understood that what was agreed upon in CCM is not only within the bounds of our flexible ecclesiology but actually demanded by it.

So while some of those in the emerging conversation would structure themselves in unique and seemingly different ways from the traditional Lutheran understanding - it is actually incredibly Lutheran.  So long as it is the missio Dei (mission of God) and the Gospel that are driving the organization.

Yesterday I made my first home visit as a pastor to an elderly woman who has cancer in her esophagus. This made it difficult to really engage in visiting, but I prayed with her and served her Communion. Very shortly after that, I left to let her rest.

At first, I felt kind of bad, even guilty, that I couldn’t have done more for her; pastoral care classes and Clinical Education (CPE) had ingrained in me the need for deep conversation during pastoral visits. But as I thought about it more, and reflected upon how she reacted during the visit, I realized that all she had really wanted to was to know that her pastor (and therefore her congregation) cared for her and to hear the familiar words of prayer and promise that we here when we receive the Lord’s Supper. That is what she needed, and in providing that for her, my short visit had done a lot for her.

The more I think about it, yesterday’s visit was probably my best pastoral care visit, because I was forced to focus on God’s promises for us in the crucified and risen Christ. Whatever else the Theology of the Cross is about, and Kate is doing a great job talking about it in her posts, it is about these promises of God with us and God for us in our sickness and brokenness to bring healing being at the heart of our theology.

P.S. In future post, I will engage the Forde article that Kate linked to; for now, though, I would like to lift up a book which dedicates an entire chapter to engaging Forde in a thoughtful and constructive way: Christ Crucified by Mark Thomsen.

Till next time, peace be with you.

Aaron

While it may have fallen out of favor for a time, Lutherans have been reclaiming Luther’s theology of the cross as an important aspect of our theology. Now, before we go any further, we must take some time out to figure out what exact a theology of the cross is.

To begin, Luther positioned the ‘theology of the cross’ against a ‘theology of glory.’ “‘A theologian of glory,’” (to quote the Lutheran Handbook), “tries to use the cross as a starting point for personal gain - to make people healthy and wealthy, successful and popular. A ‘theologian of the cross,’ in contrast, thinks of the cross as the last stop for sin, death, and delusions of grandeur,” (p. 136). A theology of glory thinks it has things all figured out while a theology of the cross is suspicious of easy answers.  A theologian of the cross sees the cross as a mirror in which to view not only the world but specifically our own lives. The theologian of the cross views everything through the cross while a theology of glory really views everything through their own concepts and ideas. A theologian of the cross calls a thing what it is whereas a theologian of glory calls good bad and bad good (Luther’s Heidelberg Disputation).

While this is only the beginning of trying to define a theology of the cross, it will probably have to do for now. If you you’d like to read more, check out this article by Gerhard Forde.

So now to emerging theology.  As the last post dealt with the notion that emerging theology is a place to wrestle with ideas and live in the tension, this is a key part of a theology of the cross.  Many in the emerging conversation have become weary of those theologies who claim to have all the answers, to have a firm grasp of who God is and what God expects of us.  Stemming out of this weariness, there is an acknowledgement that we can come to know God and experience God, but that we can never fully know God.  This view, while still holding beliefs, leaves more room for doubt and conversation which is exactly in line with a theology of the cross.

A theology of the cross is a refusal of triumphalism.  As Douglas John Hall notes in his book The Cross in Our Context,  “Triumphalism refers to the tendency in all strongly held world-views, whether religious or secular, to present themselves as full and complete accounts of reality, leaving little if any room for debate or difference of opinion and expecting of their adherents unflinching belief and loyalty,” (p. 17).  A theology of the cross refuses this notion and leaves more room open for inquiry.

I will end this portion of the conversation by saying that it is about what happened on the cross.  Both those in the emerging conversation and theologians of the cross seek to reclaim the cross event as a transformational piece in their theologies.  It is in this event that great love is shown by God for creation and all of humankind.  As Hall also notes, the cross is actually God’s great “YES” to humanity.  God so believes in the potential of humanity that God sends a son for our redemption.

Thoughts?  Qustions?  Concerns?

Kate

It seems that much of my recent thoughts have occurred in the midst of discussion and this is no different. I was recently at an emerging cohort meeting and one of the other cohort members spoke up about what she has found the emerging conversation to be in recent months. She said, “this is a place to wrestle, a place to question, and a place to live in the tension.”

Living in the tension - that’s part of what makes Lutheran theology distinct. If you’ve been around Lutherans long enough, you’ve probably heard the Latin phrase, simul justus et peccator - at the same time righteous and a sinner. We are fully justified, yet we do not live sin free (at least until the Kingdom is fully realized). We are both saint and sinner - living in the tension.

Emerging theology seeks to live in the questions, wrestling with the Word and what it has to say to our context. At its best, this is what Lutheran theology seeks to do as well… but sadly many of our congregations have gotten away from this for various reasons.

Many in congregations do not feel like their faith community is a place to raise questions, to wrestle with what the Word has to say to us. Many feel like they have to have all the answers in order to be called Christian, in order to come to church even. To admit doubt or question the tradition may seem to be a rejection of the faith entirely. So instead of being honest, these people come to church and pretend everything is good or helpful. But this is far from honest and can even be detrimental to living out our call to proclaim the faith!

So by reclaiming the Lutheran heritage of living in the tension and asking questions, we are also living into what many in the emerging conversation are discovering for the first time.

Kate

So I’ll start with a conversation I had this week about truth and postmodernity.  Well, really truth claims and how that all gets sorted out in a postmodern context.  (Looking for a definition of postmodern?  Soon we’ll have definitions up on the Emerging 101 page here).

It’s a tough nut to crack, the notion of what is true when everything is seemingly up for grabs.  Does postmodernity allow us to slide into relativism (the notion that everything is true or good)?  Or are there bounds for what is true?  And perhaps most importantly, what does this all mean for the church?  How do we live out our faith in such a context?  How do we understand truth?  How do we talk about what is true and good when others may not consider it true or good (or have different truth claims)?

The conversation I had this past week tried to address all these questions (note the word tried), but there’s still plenty we’re trying to sort out.  And instead of trying to address all the same questions or recreate/summarize the conversation for you here, I will try to sort out my subsequent thoughts.

First, as a Christian I would affirm that there is absolute Truth (God), but that we as finite humans cannot possibly fully understand that Truth.  We all have different experiences and understandings that shape our perception of the Truth and therefore are always going to differ (even if slightly) on how we see/know/understand/talk about the Truth.  So here I would make a distinction between the Truth (Big T - God as infinite being and absolute Truth) and truth (little t - our finite understandings of God/absolute Truth).

So how do we live as Christians in relation to this?  Does our faith have the right to make truth claims (little t) to the world?  How do we speak to a world in which truth is understood differently by other people? In response, I think we live out our truth claims (we do this all the time, whether we are aware of it or not).  We cannot force another person to accept our truth as their truth, but by living into that which we believe to be true, we create a place where action and dialogue are possible.  It is in this space that there is an opportunity for truth claims to be shifted a bit and hopefully for a bit of the Truth to be revealed.  Therefore, we live in the truth that God is god and has a real interest in the world.

So then, what are the bounds for a true truth?  I would say pure love for every person on earth - that every person has value simply because they are human.  This love pursues what is good and right for the person and allows each to fully live.  Any truth that doesn’t do this is not a true truth.  For example, any truth that asserts one person is “lower” than another is not a true truth.  Each is equally valuable because they are both fully human.  Any truth that exploits one person over another is also not a true truth.  It is through the lens of love that we examine truth claims.

Well, I have more to write and probably  will at some point.  But I’ve put a lot down here and hopefully it begins to make sense…. what do you think?  I’d like to hear from you and maybe we’ll begin a conversation in the comments section below this post.

Kate