Life: Apply Liberally

Pastor Ellen's blog about life these days

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Saturday, April 24, 2004

It's The Eleventh Hour...Jesus, Do You Know Where Your Church Is?

In response to Jay Tolson's April 19 article at US News.com, Forget Politics. It's All About The Music, I have a thought or two.
Tolson embarks on an article that appears to be about the success of American churches to assemble so many people to worship, despite the reality that percentages of Americans worshiping have dropped from 40% to 25% since the 60's. Still, it is an enigma that so many would be so willing to give up their Sunday mornings. What are they all doing?
He proposes that the casual observer would assume that American Christians are involved in politically-conscious or social service outreach; this deduced from the highly publicized activity of the nation's religious right.
However, the casual observer would be wrong.
In reality, the majority of congregations are actively involved in cultural activities including education, the various components of worship, and the consumption of art and culture--particularly music and theatre.
In the words of that great icon of religious wisdom, The Church Lady: "Isn't that special?"
Without a doubt, we are enriched by the gifts of art and music and acting. But I am not sure that these things make up the "rock" upon which Christ told Peter He would build His church.
Not at all!
Jesus was a great leader, an agent of change, a man of wisdom and insight. As such, He set forth an agenda right out of the gates, the great manifesto of His Kingdom. He stood on a mountain surrounded by many, many people (see this shot from The Life of Brian) and offered up "a new thing," in the timeless eloquence of His Sermon On The Mount.
Jesus covers a lot of ground here: the hierarchy of the Kingdom, clarification of the Law, the relationship of God to man - man to God - and man to man. He is profound as He explains that the litmus test for success in His economy is fruit.
Good trees bear good fruit.
Bad trees bear bad fruit.
Cultural trees bear cultural fruit.
"And by their fruit you will know them."
The fruit that Jesus desires has only a little to do with great music, writing, and/or painting and much to do with great sacrifice of self for the sake of others. That Chaves' survey reveals that the church today is less involved with social outreach than it is with cultural activity disgusts me.
Many are ready and able to point out the concept that Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed because of sexual sin, but look more closely at the words of Ezekiel: "Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy."
Perhaps the results of Chaves' study suggest a new bumper sticker for good church people. Something like: "Take A Homeless Person To The Museum Today" or "Seek Ye First Season Tickets At The Symphony."
Church people are leading the church to a place Jesus never proposed, but sadly imagined. To His beloved disciple, John, He dictated seven letters to seven churches. Among those letters is a message to the church in Ephesus: "You have forsaken your first love."
Assuming that the "first love" of the Bride of Christ was Christ, Himself, it is time for some intensive marriage therapy in order to get this relationship back to its center, its purpose, its animus. Is it any wonder that those outside the church believe that those within are hypocritical and insincere?
Bottom line: church people ARE called to be patrons, but not of the arts. Webster defines patron as: a person chosen, named, or honored as a special guardian, protector, or supporter.
Imagine, if we of the church actively pursued becoming patrons of our fellow man, of our earth, of the Kingdom Jesus envisioned? That would be art.

Saturday, April 17, 2004

HOW ABOUT "EVERYBODY FOR EVERYBODY"?


Saturday April 17, 2004


Announcement from the "Christians For Israel" website: Remember Israel Rally on May 6th
By Dr. James Hutchens

May 6th, The National Day of Prayer, Christians for Israel will hold a rally from 12noon till 4pm in front of the Capitol building with the theme, "Terror, A one way ticket". At the rally we will bring bombed out Israeli bus no. 19 and place it on display in front Capitol, where it will be shown during much of the month of May.


You know what bugs me about this?
I'm a Christian and nobody asked me if I am or am not for Israel. They just looped me into a generic body that IS for Israel. Don't you think there ought to be a policy against that kind of presumptive labeling? I mean, if somebody doesn't like ....fruit....they could start hanging around with other people who don't like fruit. And those people could even be a club, you know? They could even be the "West Rochester Fruit Haters" if they want because that would be a good representation of who they are (so long as they live in West Rochester).
But they should not decide to call themselves "Americans Against Fruit" until they poll every American and are sure that we all are...against fruit.
They could be called "Some of the Americans Against Fruit."
And that would be a lot more honest than calling themselves "Some of the Americans For Vegetables."
You see, when we decide to label ourselves by what/whom we're FOR....we're usually setting out what/whom we are NOT FOR.
If I am a Christian for Israel....then the chances are pretty good that I consider Palestine my enemy.
And you know Jesus said about that...we should LOVE OUR ENEMIES.
So maybe the better and more Christian name of this group might be: "Some of the Christian People of America Who Are Trying To Understand And Love Palestine While We Also Love Israel."
Maybe while they're having their "Remember Israel" rally on May 6 they could have a "Let's Pray For Palestine" rally, too. Maybe they could bring caskets containing the remains of young Palestinians who were shot by Israelis or deeds to Palestinian homes that were taken away from families with no compensation during the reoccupation.
And they could set all that up next to their blown up bus and put a big sign in front that says, "Why can't we all just get along????"
Why can't we be for everybody?
God is.

P.S. Just in case you're letting any of that Biblical stuff about Israel being God's chosen people get crazy in your head right now, I suggest you go back and read the Prophets and when you're finished with that go back and read the words of Jesus and when that's done, check out the Epistle of Paul to the Romans.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

HOW DID THEY KNOW???

These guys at Blogger are some kind of amazing.
Have you SEEN the advertising above my blog?
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Have they profiled me? Do they actually read my posts?
And how good is this stuff, anyway?
Hmmm...maybe I should give it a try....


Monday, April 12, 2004

What Are We Supposed To Remember When We Remember The Alamo?

Having just returned from 5 days in San Antonio for the Men's Final Four, I was especially interested in seeing the new release of John Lee Hancock's movie, "The Alamo." As a little girl, my Daddy Tom used to bounce me on his knee singing, "San Antoni-antonio!" and my mother would swoon whenever and wherever she heard Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys sing "San Antonio Rose."
I was 7 years old when my mom and I boarded a Greyhound bus bound for the Hill Country of Texas. It was summertime and I wore a pink sun dress adorned with red roses, chosen especially for our destination. After what seemed an eternity in the back of that dielsel-fumed mode of transport, we set our feet on the black dirt of Texas and my mother wept for joy.
I still have a picture of her and me taken in one of those cheesey bus station photo booths. She wanted to memorialize the moment. There I am, all baggy-eyed and wrinkled from the journey...long brown hair pulled back behind a white plastic headband...cheek to cheek with my mom who's looking every bit "The Rose," herself.
We stayed the night at my mother's cousin's and the next day, walked the hallowed grounds of that mighty shrine to Texans and freedom: The Alamo. It was a big deal. We bought cheap souvenirs and took lots of pix, read every placard and studied every relic. We savored the shade of the great old cottonwoods and paid homage to remains of Bowie, Travis, and Crockett at San Fernando Church nearby.
It was a time of innocence.
I returned to the Alamo last month hoping to re-connect with some of that sweetness. The first thing I noticed: It's not a very big building, is it?
Somehow it seemed so LARGE back then. But I was so small.
Unexpedtedly, I found that my hunger for stories of conquest and battle had been replaced by a nagging idea...that men fought then and fight now for visions far less grandiose than freedom and that those folks we have dubbed as heroes because of that fighting....maybe weren't the superior beings our elementary school textbooks played them out to be.
Battle sickens me, as does its apotheosis.
And so I approached Hancock's movie with a great deal of curiosity. "How," I wondered "will he treat the subjects...Sam Houston, Davie Crockett, Jim Bowie, and General Santa Anna? How will he honor the righteous cause of the Mexicans who sought to stave off the influx of manifest destiny knocking at their northern portal? Will he acknowledge the pre-Texas days of men whose lives had been lived as phonies and swindlers and drunkards?"
He did okay. Rising star, Patrick Wilson, stole my heart as William Travis. The cinematography of the battle was remarkable and the landscape is much more authentic than that of the old John Wayne version.
The real surprise is Billy Bob Thornton as David Crockett. He is a fine actor.
There is this scene in which those under seige have grown powerfully tired of the Mexican army's penchant for playing the trumpet "decuello" before firing on the mission every night. In an attempt to cope, Crockett, a closet fiddle player, stands on the walls of the fortress at sunset and plays a descant to the trumpet tune...a la Nero as Rome burned. Consequently, his melody is so enchanting that the Mexicans choose to forego that night's bombardment. In response to the absence of canon fire Crockett replies, "It's amazing what a little harmony can do."
Too bad it wasn't all fiction.
It really happened.
And I saw the movie just down the street from my home in El Paso, Texas, just 3 miles from the international boundary separating Texas and Mexico.
And after the movie I relieved myself in the ladies room with Mexican women in stalls on either side of mine.
And I saw the reflection of their faces in the mirror as we washed our hands.
And they saw mine.
And we tried desperately to just be nice to each other as we spent those moments together...knowing...that we were remembering the Alamo very differently.
And yet the same.