Showing posts with label Theology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Theology. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world…have mercy on us.

A.Hanson, Minnesota, 2013
I am finding myself singing the Agnus Dei this morning, "Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world, have mercy on us…"

This morning at approximately 12:21am Eastern time, the state of Georgia executed Kelly Gissendaner.  

Lord have mercy on us all.

My first experience with hearing about the death penalty in my life was when the state of Montana executed a man in 1995.  I remember being horrified with the sensibilities of a child that someone could be put to death by the government for killing someone else.  It just did not make sense to me then, and it still does not make sense to me.

A friend of mine was murdered in 2007 by a random stranger in a suburb of Minneapolis. I was devastated and outraged.  But I did not want her killer put to death, because that was not going to bring Katherine back and it would not honor her memory. The death penalty has tremendous costs, and they are not just financial.

I think about the people who are charged with carrying out executions. The wardens and guards and nurses and techs. The medical professionals who put an IV into the condemned person's body. Who are using the training that was obtained with the intent of preserving life and using it to end another person's life. I think about the person charged with pressing the button on the other side of a wall that will transmit the lethal drugs into the veins of the one being executed. The executor does not see the executed, because if they saw what they were doing, one would hope that they would not be able to do it. I wonder how those people feel at night when they go home from work and caress their spouse and hold their children. If their hands carry the blood of another. I wonder how this weighs on their hearts.

I wonder how the legal team feels and how the judge feels and how the supreme court felt when they denied Kelly Gissendaner's final emergency appeal. How they must feel when upholding the law of the land which is so senseless and horrifying.

I wonder how the family members of the victims feel as they watch an execution. Do they feel relief?  Or do they feel lingering hurt? Are they happy to put this chapter behind them?

I wonder how the family of the condemned person feels.  Do they feel relief as well? Are they weighed down by shame? Do they bury the memory of their once-loved one?

I would not say that I am "pro-life" because that is so politically charged.  I am PRO-HUMANITY. I am in favor of anything that reminds us of how we are all interconnected. I am in favor of preserving life. This extends to abolishing the death penalty, but also addressing the systemic racism and injustices inherent in our legal and penal systems.

Why do we kill people who kill people to show people that killing people is wrong? 

I also remember when I signed my first petition against the death penalty (an Amnesty International petition) at a church event as a high school senior.  And the many that I have signed since. Some days I feel hopeless.  Today is one of those days.  I am inspired by the ministry of Sister Helen Prejean, a Roman Catholic sister who has dedicated her life's work to speaking out against the death penalty.

I understand anger and the desire for revenge. I understand deep grief and hurt. I understand wanting vengeance for death.  But in the end, if death wins, we all lose. And that is why I am singing the Agnus Dei so fervently this morning.

Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world…have mercy on us.  Mercy on us.  Mercy on us.


Monday, September 28, 2015

Theology of Pastoral Care…an ever-evolving project

A.Hanson, Denver, 2015
At the start of my year of residency, I was quite timid in my pastoral caregiving.  I did not want to be too Lutheran or too Christian or not Christian enough or step on anyone’s toes or assert authority that I did not have.  I struggled a lot with the question, “what does a chaplain do that is different from a social worker or a particularly compassionate nurse?”

While still evolving, my pastoral theology centers around the conviction that pastoral care is an essential part of reuniting the whole person who is experiencing un-wellness with the social environment of which they are a part. Our discipline as chaplains is not concerned with treatment or therapeutic support, but rather, to meet another person where they are, using all of our humanity to meet their humanity. We have tasks that are therapeutic and we have tasks that are supportive of wellness, but our primary role is not wholly that. Perhaps more than anyone else in the hospital, chaplains are a link to the outside world and to a world of health and wholeness and a reminder of the hope that a person will rejoin that world outside the hospital. In the case of a patient’s death, we serve that function for family members.

Another core aspect of my pastoral theology is incarnational. I believe that God is in all people.  This might be seen as foolish, because it means that I tend to see people in the most affirming way but I think I will go on celebrating it because I would rather be foolish and see people as good than be suspicious and always be looking for evidence to the contrary. With this aspect of my pastoral theology, I do not think that I “bring God” to my patients, but rather, because God is in both of us, our time together is a fuller realization of the Kingdom of God. I view the hospital as a sort of communion table. We all bring ourselves to the table, we are broken and Christ is broken for us. The Lutheran understanding of the sacraments is that the most ordinary of things (such as water, wine, and bread) can carry the presence of God.  So the most ordinary of things in the hospital, one person sitting with another, already carries the presence of God.  Pastoral visits are sacramental and sacred.

One of the parts of my theology that has been challenged is my conviction that “God is always present.”  Because there are many, many times where I feel like this is not true. I have not found an answer for this question, and why my greatest discovery in my work as a chaplain has been the depth of mystery that exists in this work. Why bad things happen. Why patients with the same condition have vastly different outcomes. Why children die. Why parents die. Why sheer luck saves someone when all the knowledge in the world cannot. Why prayer seems to work. Why prayer does not seem to work. Why it is possible to feel the presence of God so clearly at times, and yet, at other times, God is so far away. I have no answers. When I started this residency I was searching for answers. I knew that explanations of faith healings and miracles and fervent prayers did not hold for me, but I was searching for the elusive answer that would somehow tie it all together.  And the answer has been revealed, and it is, “trust the mystery.” Patients frequently ask me what happens after death, and express their existential anxieties about what will happen to them, and the most truthful answer I have is “I have no idea.”  And I am settling into being okay with the mystery. My progressive Lutheran theology does not have the answers, neither does Christianity, nor does science. The only answer is, “I am willing to be with you in your suffering as you ask those questions.” Where I have landed in this particularly difficult part of my pastoral theology is to come back to Christ as seen on the cross, and God being willing to descend to hell and death, and I come away knowing, “There is no place that God is unwilling to go.” 

A final conviction that shapes my pastoral theology is that of, “I see your suffering and I am not repulsed by it.”  I do not take a medical model approach to suffering (diagnose and cure) or flee from suffering as the world is wont to do, but rather, an accompaniment model. I stand alongside my patients in their suffering and bear witness to it and provide a hand to hold and an ear to listen and a mirror to reflect.


Saturday, July 18, 2015

chaplaincy series: Pastoral Theology

Explanation of project: CPE students were tasked with writing and delivering a “pastoral homily”, a message that would speak to patients in a pastoral way. This is not a sermon, but rather, an exploration of a pastoral concern.

My initial reflections: Proclamation is something that comes quite easily to me.  I write and deliver sermons on a regular basis. I have preached homilies at funerals, weddings, prayer services, worship services, graduation and confirmation liturgies, and other events in the life of a pastor. What would be of greater learning to me is to engage in dialogue with my peers and supervisor regarding the topic of this homiletical reflection, disability and pastoral theology.

Limiting the scope: There are many definitions of what it is to be disabled.  There are physical disabilities, cognitive disabilities, invisible disabilities such as autoimmune diseases and mental illnesses, and other conditions that may or may not be disabling such as deafness or blindness. The scope of this project does not allow for extended consideration of all of these topics, so the term “disability” for the remainder of this project refers to paralysis, specifically the inability to walk as a result of a traumatic injury. Additionally, since I am not a part of the disabled community, my reflections are limited to my own social location. I can reflect upon these topics, but I am perpetually outside this community. Finally, since I am a minister in a Christian tradition, specifically a Lutheran pastor, my perspective is Christo-centric and is guided by scripture. 

Images of paralysis in scripture:  (NRSV)
Mark 2:1-12:
When he returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that he was at home. So many gathered around that there was no longer room for them, not even in front of the door; and he was speaking the word to them. Then some people came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. And when they could not bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him; and after having dug through it, they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.’ Now some of the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts, ‘Why does this fellow speak in this way? It is blasphemy! Who can forgive sins but God alone?’ At once Jesus perceived in his spirit that they were discussing these questions among themselves; and he said to them, ‘Why do you raise such questions in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, “Your sins are forgiven”, or to say, “Stand up and take your mat and walk”? But so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins’—he said to the paralytic— ‘I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go to your home.’ And he stood up, and immediately took the mat and went out before all of them; so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, ‘We have never seen anything like this!’”

Matthew 9:2-8:
 And just then some people were carrying a paralyzed man lying on a bed. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Take heart, son; your sins are forgiven.’ Then some of the scribes said to themselves, ‘This man is blaspheming.’ But Jesus, perceiving their thoughts, said, ‘Why do you think evil in your hearts? For which is easier, to say, “Your sins are forgiven”, or to say, “Stand up and walk”? But so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins’—he then said to the paralytic—‘Stand up, take your bed and go to your home.’ And he stood up and went to his home. When the crowds saw it, they were filled with awe, and they glorified God, who had given such authority to human beings.

Luke 5:17-26:
“ One day, while he was teaching, Pharisees and teachers of the law were sitting nearby (they had come from every village of Galilee and Judea and from Jerusalem); and the power of the Lord was with him to heal. Just then some men came, carrying a paralyzed man on a bed. They were trying to bring him in and lay him before Jesus; but finding no way to bring him in because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and let him down with his bed through the tiles into the middle of the crowd in front of Jesus. When he saw their faith, he said, ‘Friend, your sins are forgiven you.’ Then the scribes and the Pharisees began to question, ‘Who is this who is speaking blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God alone?’ When Jesus perceived their questionings, he answered them, ‘Why do you raise such questions in your hearts? Which is easier, to say, “Your sins are forgiven you”, or to say, “Stand up and walk”? But so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins’—he said to the one who was paralyzed—‘I say to you, stand up and take your bed and go to your home.’ Immediately he stood up before them, took what he had been lying on, and went to his home, glorifying God. Amazement seized all of them, and they glorified God and were filled with awe, saying, ‘We have seen strange things today.’”

Matthew 8:5-13:
 “When he entered Capernaum, a centurion came to him, appealing to him and saying, ‘Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, in terrible distress.’ And he said to him, ‘I will come and cure him.’ The centurion answered, ‘Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; but only speak the word, and my servant will be healed. For I also am a man under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, “Go”, and he goes, and to another, “Come”, and he comes, and to my slave, “Do this”, and the slave does it.’ When Jesus heard him, he was amazed and said to those who followed him, ‘Truly I tell you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith. I tell you, many will come from east and west and will eat with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, while the heirs of the kingdom will be thrown into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ And to the centurion Jesus said, ‘Go; let it be done for you according to your faith.’ And the servant was healed in that hour.”

John 5:1-15:
“After this there was a festival of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate there is a pool, called in Hebrew Beth-zatha, which has five porticoes. In these lay many invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, ‘Do you want to be made well?’ The sick man answered him, ‘Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Stand up, take your mat and walk.’ At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.
Now that day was a sabbath. So the Jews said to the man who had been cured, ‘It is the sabbath; it is not lawful for you to carry your mat.’ But he answered them, ‘The man who made me well said to me, “Take up your mat and walk.” ’ They asked him, ‘Who is the man who said to you, “Take it up and walk”?’ Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had disappeared in the crowd that was there. Later Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, ‘See, you have been made well! Do not sin any more, so that nothing worse happens to you.’ The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had made him well.”

Acts 9:23-25
 Now as Peter went here and there among all the believers, he came down also to the saints living in Lydda. There he found a man named Aeneas, who had been bedridden for eight years, for he was paralyzed. Peter said to him, ‘Aeneas, Jesus Christ heals you; get up and make your bed!’ And immediately he got up. And all the residents of Lydda and Sharon saw him and turned to the Lord.

Scriptural Reflections:
-All four Gospels have some account of Jesus telling a paralyzed man to “Stand up, take your mat, and walk.”
-There is an additional account of the healing of the Centurion’s servant and of a man named Aeneas.
-Scriptural accounts pertaining to paralysis tend to be closely related to healing happening when a person proves their faith or when their sins are forgiven.

Pastoral Reflections:
It is extremely problematic to link paralysis with sin or with faith.  To link paralysis with sin is to say that someone did something to deserve their condition/injury/illness. To link paralysis (or healing from it, “take up your mat and walk”) with faith puts someone into the position of feeling like they can do something to pray their way out of their condition. Additionally, to link paralysis with faith means that someone who is paralyzed can be seen as “not praying hard enough” or not “having enough faith”, because if they had great faith, they could be healed. Both of these are cold comfort to someone who is paralyzed. I have been present many times during this residency year when a doctor told a patient that they would not be able to walk again as a result of a car accident/ski accident/fall/other trauma. Patients frequently respond, “what did I do to deserve this?” The pastoral response is, “absolutely nothing, there is nothing to say except, ‘I am with you’” and yet, so much of Christianity wants to pray for a miracle when a severed spinal cord is not going to ever be repaired.

There is something left wanting when we link disability to sin or implying that a person’s traumatic injury could have been avoided or that it could be healed if they only had enough faith or prayed the right way. There needs to be a different concept of disability and theology.

Re-imagining disability with theology:

A. The interdependent God: posed by Kathy Black in A Healing Homiletic. This idea of Christian community is a place where “all are called to work interdependently with God to achieve well-being for ourselves and others.”[1]  This idea begins from the place that we are profoundly interconnected to one another and to God.  Physical limitations are merely a different manifestation of “normal” because we are all connected. Those who depend on the assistance of others with daily activities are essentially no different than those who depend on the assistance of other people who have expertise with other tasks, such as financial management, construction, and so on. Black argues that “experience of disability allows us to see what is often invisible to others: all people, disabled or not, are dependent on other people and the resources of the natural world for survival.”[2]  Black emphasizes the connection between God and between human beings, saying that “the universe is interdependent and God is part of that interdependence.”[3]

Scripturally speaking, I see evidence of this interdependent God in Exodus 6:7a, “I will take you as my people, and I will be your God.” God is God because of God’s people. God is not a puppet master subjecting people to whims of pain and suffering. In this image of the universe, human choice and God’s will are just a couple factors in a myriad of factors determining our lives.  

What does this look like in a hospital setting? Patients in a hospital are acutely aware of their dependence on others.  I made a visit to a patient last week who said that she was unable to chat at the time because she was waiting for her nurse to take her to the bathroom. The eventual treatment plan for most patients is to return home and to return to health, and to get to that point, patients must rely on caregivers. But what if this interdependence works the other way as well?  Nurses are nurses because they have patients to care for. Chaplains are chaplains because they provide pastoral care. Care is not provided in a vacuum, it is provided as a part of a web of interconnected relationships. In this model, disability is not a deficit, but rather, another way that we are connected to one another.

B. The Disabled God: Nancy Eiesland, in The Disabled God, posits that traditional images of disability as a curse or as a blessing (something to overcome) are simply not adequate and make it impossible for a person with disabilities to see themselves as part of the imago dei, as divinely inspired creatures made in the image of God. Eiesland suggests that the image of the crucified Christ can point to the disabled God.  Jesus died as a result of physical limitations. He was crucified on a cross and suffocated because he was unable to lift his own body weight enough to fill his lungs. Eiesland states, “Christians do not have an able-bodied God as their primal image. Rather, the disabled God promising grace through a broken body is at the center of piety, prayer, practice and mission.”[4] Eiesland’s image of God divorces physical disability from the notion of sin, because Jesus was free from sin and yet he became disabled. She also argues that the stories of the crucifixion and the resurrection show that God is in solidarity with those who have disabilities or who are otherwise marginalized. God knows what it is to be physically limited and knows what it is to experience pain.

This has major implications from a pastoral perspective for patients in the hospital. As Jesus appeared to his disciples as a survivor, with wounds from his suffering, even inviting the disciples to touch him and place their hands in his wounds, so too patients are marked with wounds and scars from their own suffering. This speaks of a God in solidarity with those who suffer. God knows what it is to suffer and God knows what it is to die. As someone who has suffered, I would much rather have a God who suffers (a theology of the cross) than a God who is seen only in glory. As a patient, I would rather have a chaplain who is willing to acknowledge that God has experienced the worst that this world can offer and is not too quick to pray for healing or for wholeness because that feels cheap.  As a chaplain, I would rather have a disabled God, because that is a God that I can believe in and that I can bear witness to as I sit with patients in their suffering.

Reflecting Together:

1.     What do you think about people “deserving” their condition?  What about drunk drivers or suicidal folks or someone else who actually did something, even if it was mere stupidity, to bring about their paralysis?
2.     What do you think about God as being disabled?  Does this expand your vision of God or does it limit what God is capable of doing?
3.     What can paralysis tell us about God?
4.     Do these thoughts challenge your theology? Expand it?  Are you indifferent?
How does this sort of reflection shape our w


[1] Black, Kathy. A Healing Homiletic, 1996.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid
[4] Eiesland, Nancy. The Disabled God, 2002.

Friday, May 03, 2013

Faithful Thomas

"The Incredulity of Saint Thomas"
Caravaggio

(from a sermon preached to my Luther Seminary preaching lab on 5/2/13.  It was delivered without notes, the following manuscript was my pre-work)

What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear the name, “Thomas?” 
(This is not a rhetorical question!)  The answer that I immediately received was, "doubting Thomas"

Thomas has a bad reputation in most Christian preaching.  At one time or another we have probably all heard a sermon in which we were exhorted not to be like “doubting Thomas.”  Unquestioning belief is held up over and against honest doubt as a virtue.  Solid belief is good and any doubt at all is bad. 

The beautitude that Jesus speaks, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” is read not as a promise of faith but a contingency for it.

And the other disciples are held up as models of faith and Thomas serves as an example of “what not to do”

However, I think Thomas has gotten an undue bad reputation.  He is not asking for anything different than that which the other disciples already received.  Thomas just was not in that same upper room with the disciples when Jesus appeared to them. 

These disciples, including Thomas, had just watched Jesus brutally executed and watched him being laid into a tomb.  They had witnessed this same tomb as empty, yet failed to grasp what Jesus had been telling them all along, that he would rise from the dead.  And in the midst of all of this they were being persecuted, chased, and hunted by the authorities. 

The other disciples were gathered in a locked house because they were afraid and Jesus came to them and said, “peace be with you.”  He showed them the wounds in his hand and in his side.  Jesus breathes his spirit into them and says, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven.  If you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”  And having seen all this, the disciples decide to share it with Thomas.  Thomas honestly says, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”  If any of us were in that situation, I think that we would probably do the exact same thing.  

I believe that we want to take Jesus’ command, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” and run with it, but if we actually look at our selves and our lives, we are essentially…Thomas.  Yet we wish more than anything that we were not. 

This week I asked two questions of my friends on facebook in preparation for this sermon, and I want to ask them again of you now: 

What is certainty?

What is faith?

Some of the responses I received were:
“Certainty is not a thing, faith is being able to thank God at my best times and rage against her at my worst”

“Certainty is a lie, faith is honest”

“Certainty is that the rent is due on the first of the month, faith is the laughter of children” 

“If you are certain of something, it is of you…if you have faith in something, it is of God”

“Certainty is being without doubt…faith is having hope in that doubt” 

“Certainty means that you don’t have a clue, and faith means you are willing to give it a shot” 

The general consensus (and your responses also indicate this) is that certainty is not possible, nor is it desirable.  Then why do we expect this from ourselves and from others?  

I did a google search for images for this text.  What came up over and over again was Thomas putting his fingers into the wound in Jesus’ side.  But if we read the text closely, we see that Thomas never actually does this.  Jesus invites him to do so, but there is no proof that it actually happens.  Thomas does not TOUCH Jesus…he HEARS him. 

Thomas is not asking for anything special or anything that the other disciples hadn’t already received by being able to see Jesus.  Thomas was one of Jesus’ closest friends. They spent years together, sharing meals and conversation.  But the ludicrous idea that his FRIEND, Jesus of Nazareth, could be raised from the dead, well, that is just a little bit unbelievable.  If someone this close to the situation needed to ask questions of Jesus in order to believe, wouldn’t we be even more invited in to that same questioning? 

And most importantly, out of all this questioning, Thomas confesses Jesus to be God.  There is promise in doubt. 

I want to tell you a story.  Quite a number of years ago, when I was still a teenager, I experienced a crisis of faith.  The faith of my upbringing did not make sense any longer. Believing in God felt hollow and way too difficult.  Through a haze of tears I confided these fears to a friend.  She told me that doubt was bad and that to be a good Christian, I needed to have strong faith.  I took in her words and vowed to never outwardly struggle again.  Doubt was bad.  Certainty was good.   I can’t help but remember this story every time that I hear about Thomas. 

But I also think of another story when I hear about Thomas.  About six years ago, when I had been out of College for a few years, I experienced another crisis of faith. No religion could help me make sense of the chaos that was invading my world.  One bad thing after another piled into my life for a couple years.  I was left adrift with no anchor whatsoever in my world.  God seemed absent.  But this time, the story was different.  A friend said that my doubt was just as holy as my faith.  And faith didn’t come from my own efforts anyway.  Faith was something that was given to me by the Holy Spirit.  And that is liberating. 

Remember a time in which God seemed absent from your life and doubt came more easily than faith.  Maybe you or someone you love was ill.  Perhaps someone died who was close to you.  Maybe you struggled financially or experienced the painful breakup of a relationship.  Maybe it was 10 years ago. Maybe it was this morning. 

So, brothers and sisters, if no one has said this to you, please let me be the first.  Your doubt is holy.  Your questions do not make the story any less real.  Your doubt will not cause God to leave you.  Faith does not happen as a result of your own efforts.  It is a gift.  Thanks be to God.