I remember this conversation around
the dinner table growing up. My dad, to
my brother, “Why do you always go to your friends’ houses on Friday nights? Why
don’t you ever have your friends over here?”
My brother’s response, “our house is boring. They all have cable TV. We
don’t have anything.”
This conversation took place early
in the year that MTV first aired – 1981.
At the time, MTV actually stood for “Music Television” and, true to its
name, it aired music videos 24 / 7. But
this conversation was before the
launch. I know because everyone knew
that on August 1, 1981 at 11:01 p.m. central time, MTV would launch and anyone who was anyone would be glued to the TV that Saturday night. And my brother saw our dad’s question as a
way to get on board!
And it worked! Saturday, August 1,
1981 at 11:01 p.m. at the Bullock residence?
I sat in front of the TV in the living room watching John Lack announce,
“Ladies and gentlemen, rock and roll.”
Where was my brother? Who knows!
Probably watching at his friend’s house – after all, our house was still
boring!
Have you ever really, really,
really wanted something because you knew someone else who already had it? Have you ever decided to go somewhere for a
vacation or do something for fun because a friend or a neighbor had already
gone there or done that and told you how fabulous it was? We like to think of conformity as a unique
problem faced by teenagers. But, the
reality is that we all give in to it at least some of the time. And, while much
of the time, there is nothing particularly bad about our caving in to the
pressure – after all, despite the perils of MTV, my brother and I did, in fact,
survive! – the truth is that there are many stories we could tell of times when
doing what everyone else is doing proved to be more than a bad idea. Hence the oft-used expression, beloved by
mothers and fathers alike: “If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you do it
too?”
Individuals aren’t the only ones
who are pulled by the pressures of those around them. Entire communities can be swayed. Take this morning’s Old Testament reading,
for example. In the 11th and 12th century BCE, the Hebrew
people were organized by tribes which were linked together in a
confederation. There was no central
government; but, in times of crisis – most often military crisis - the people
were led by judges. Each successive judge was chosen by God from a different
tribe. But, as this morning’s text
opens, we are told that “all the elders of Israel gathered together and came to
Samuel at Ramah, and said to him, ‘You are old and your sons do not follow in
your ways; appoint for us, then, a king to govern us, like other nations.’”[1] Everyone around us is ruled by kings. We would do better if we had a king as
well. We want a king!
Samuel was displeased, says the
text. God was displeased, says the
text. Why? Because this request was a REALLY big deal. It changed everything. What set Israel apart was their understanding
that God alone is king. As the psalmist
writes, “the LORD Most High is to be feared; he is the great King over all the
earth” (Psalm 47:2) and as written in the ten commandments: “I am the Lord your
God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you
shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:2-3). And so the elders’ request for a king
represents a willingness to give up their very identity in order to be like
their neighbors. God called Israel to be
a light to the nations, to show the nations another way and the Israelites respond
by saying, “No! We want to be like everyone else. We don’t want to stand out. We want to conform to the world and the
world’s expectations.”
Samuel warns them that this request
is nothing short of a return to slavery – the very bondage out of which God
freed them from Egypt. But the people
are willing to give up their God-given freedom to be like the other
nations. And so, at the end of the day,
the people get their king. God does not
approve; but God permits. At what
cost? Ultimately the Israelites will
fall into the hands of their neighbors – the Babylonians - they will lose their
temple and their homeland; they will live in exile for 70 years before
returning to their devastated homeland.
Fast forward some 3000 or more
years and we arrive here today. What is
the challenge to Christian community today? The challenge to being God’s people
set apart to be a light to the nations?
A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned the doomsday headlines announcing the
steady decline in mainline Protestant denominations. The Rev. James Bartz, in a 2009 article for the Anglican Theological Review, writes:
“We
have moved from Christendom to post-Christendom, an era more closely resembling
that of the early church. . . . the tough question for those of us in the Jesus-following
business is not, ‘How do we grow our churches?’ but rather, ‘How do we
transform our community?’”[2]
Too often it seems to me that our answer has been based in a
survey of the world around us – what works for the other organizations in our
society? How can we be more like them?
And so we cave in to “contemporary consumerism” and promote “private and
personal spirituality” over the “more difficult work of forming and sustaining
Christian community.”[3] We have been willing to give up our very identity
as community – as God’s chosen people – in order to be like the people around
us. Lutheran Pastor Peter Marty writes:
“The
consistent witness of Holy Scripture is that God cherishes the idea of forming
a visible body. It is not the spiritual state of individual souls or personal
salvation that preoccupies God throughout the Bible. It isn’t even the
achievement of a personal state of holiness.
God’s intention is to form a people. . . a community.”[4]
God calls us into community and instead we say, “No. We want to conform to the world around us
that lifts up and prizes individual achievement.” God does not approve; but God
permits. And, at what cost? Loneliness? Depression? Isolation? Disconnection? As more and more people recognize the cost
of individual pursuit, the Church, this church – St. Mark’s – has an
opportunity to “reverse [our] disengagement from others and to rethink [our]
solitary pursuit of God.”[5]
There are glimpses of this in our
community already. Small gatherings
where people come together across difference to build and sustain deep
friendships, mutuality of purpose, and faithful care for one another. I see it at the Producemobile where several
members of St. Mark’s regularly volunteer alongside others in the community and
in that work have come to truly know one another, care for one another, and
sustain one another. But, how do we
nurture this type of community – “people willing to foster life in one another”[6] – on a broader scale? How do we nurture it at St. Mark’s? I wish I had an easy answer. I am convinced that it begins and finds its
center in our worship. Because our
worship is the one place where we consistently bring our separate selves
together to praise God with one voice.
And yet, I know this is not enough.
Last April Deane Johnson and I
brought the youth together for an evening of “Stump the Priest” – an
opportunity to ask any question about the Bible, our faith, relationships, the
world. To explore the places where matters of faith meet daily life experience. The questions and their thoughtful responses
were powerful: Should we have to believe all the stories in the Bible are true?
What should we feel we can trust our friends with? How much should we be
exposed to news about the world? But
more than powerful, the conversation with our youth began to build community as
we dared to be vulnerable and share with one another, to explore our faith and
our lives with one another.
This summer Andrea and I will host
“Faith around the Firepit” in the Rectory backyard on the fourth Friday of each
month. In part we will do this because I love alliteration. But, in all seriousness, my hope is that we
will use this time to gather in a casual environment to explore deep questions
of our faith and of our lives – to explore together where God meets world, to
be vulnerable together, to share together our life experiences: our crises of
faith, our times of inspiration, our moments of wonder. To bring our separate selves together to
build and sustain deep friendships, mutuality of purpose, and faithful care for
one another – to enter fully into God’s invitation to be God’s people, a people
- a community - set apart . . .
[1] 1 Samuel 8:4-5.
[2] James P. Bartz, “Leadership from the Inside Out,” Anglican Theological Review (Winter
2009), 90.
[3] Peter W. Marty, “Shaping Communities: Pastoral
Leadership and Congregational Formation,” in For Life Abundant: Practical Theology, Theological Education, and
Christian Ministry, edited by Dorothy C. Bass and Craig Dykstra, (Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2008), 309.
[4] Marty, 307.
[5] Marty, 310.
[6] Marty, 313.
Comments
The Faith around the Firepit idea is a good one--just wish we lived closer! The combination of fire, nature, and darkness is ideal to inspire honesty and conversation. I well remember such campfires during summer camp, and how much was shared in that venue. How openly we speak when no one can see our faces!
In therapy with people, I often encourage them to make fewer statements, and to ask more questions as a way to discover more about themselves and others. This is what you've done here, and I appreciate it. Thank you.