The Lord’s Prayer, According to Kids

By now I shouldn’t be surprised by the wisdom and spiritual insight of the kids of Dunbar UMC, but so often, when they open their mouths, I am amazed (in a good way!) at what comes out. Today in Children’s Church, we talked about prayer, and more specifically, the Lord’s Prayer. We went through the prayer, line by line, and they shared what they thought each part of the prayer meant. Normally, we have a hands-on activity that goes along with the message, but today, we didn’t even get to it because they were so engaged in the conversation about the Lord’s Prayer. While in some cases, I had to provide explanations for words like “hallowed” or “trespasses,” they had a pretty clear picture of what is happening in the Lord’s Prayer. So here, to the best of my memory, are some of the things they had to offer:

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name… 

God is like our dad from heaven.

God is our father and he has a place for us in heaven.

So hallowed means like God’s love is whole.

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…

So, like we are God’s kingdom and we try to make things here like it is in heaven.

God created heaven and earth.

God wants earth to be happy like heaven.

God want us to show his love.

Give us this day our daily bread…

It means God gives us life.

It’s like Communion when he said, ‘The bread is my body.’

Jesus gives us his bread every Sunday and it’s so good!

God helps us every day.

And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us…

If someone is mean and bullies us, it means that we should forgive them and that God wants to forgive them.

It means we need to tell God we are sorry when we are mean, and when someone says they are sorry to us, we just forgive them.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…

Help us do the right things.

Protect us from the devil and the way he wants to trick us.

Help us not do things we know we shouldn’t.

For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory forever. Amen.

God and heaven are forever.

God loves us forever.

This is God’s kingdom and it is forever.

I know there was more wisdom they had to offer but these are the words I remember. I could now theologize and reflect on their ideas in greater depth, but I think instead it is better to sit with the simplicity and clarity of the words they offer us. May they speak to you as they do to me.

~Cindy+

Stumbling towards the Kingdom

I need to start with a confession: I have really been struggling with my faith in humanity lately. I have been struggling to trust authorities. I have been struggling not to lash out and blindly rage against the machine. I have been struggling against making categorical judgments for or against different groups of people. I have been struggling with an increasing sense of unrest about what exists in my own heart and about what is going on around our communities and nation.

I wholly appreciate those of you who are willing to share in conversation with me, and ESPECIALLY those who do not necessarily agree with my interpretations of what is going on in our country. Those of you in the church who have engaged in conversations with me around race and injustice have kept me grounded and constantly remind me of my absolute need for relationships with people who may hold a rather different world view than me. I’m really glad that we can be friends and worship together and that you trust me to be one of your pastors.

What I write below is a reflection of my own personal struggle to find Christ in the middle of the violence, the anger, and the fear that is gripping our country. The struggle will continue long after the writing of this.

As I look around our country and the world today, and I see continued systemic injustice around race, a prevalent victim-blaming rape culture, exploitation of hard-working people at the hands of corporate greed, violence occurring in the name of God, warfare, and all the other pains and violences that exist, my unrest grows and I can’t suppress it. I shouldn’t suppress it. But my unrest turns to anger, and my anger turns to despair, and all too quickly, I feel overwhelmed by the immensity of the brokenness of things. And I know that in all of this, I, in no way, can truly comprehend what it is like for the majority of people who suffer at the hands of the powerful.

As I think about all of these things and I struggle not to let despair make itself at home, I am trying to grasp at what Christmas really means.

In preparing for Christmas, I’ve started trying to teach a song by Chris Rice called “Welcome to our World” to the kids in Children’s Church. A couple of the verses keep sticking in my mind: “Tears are falling, hearts are breaking. How we need to hear from God. You’ve been promised, we’ve been waiting…. Bring your peace into our violence…. Breathe our air and walk our sod.”

Oh, how we need to hear from God today. How we need to hear from God in our country. How we need to hear from God in our legislatures, in our law enforcement agencies, in our wealthy suburbs, in our neighborhood streets, in our public housing, in our military, in our schools, in our hearts. How we need to have Christ’s peace invade our violence, our hatred, our blame, and our fear! How we need Christ to breathe our air and walk with us, especially when a another child of God cries out, “I cant’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!”

Right now, we are in the season of Advent; a season of waiting. We wait to celebrate the birth of Christ at Christmas. So often it is filled with waiting to celebrate with food and time off from school or work, and presents, lots of presents! But as I stumble through Advent this year, I am waiting for something different: for the kingdom of God, which is justice and peace.

Sometimes it seems like the kingdom is an impossible dream, a myth, a fantasy world. We are so far away. When I read the prophets of the Old Testament and I see proclamations of Israel’s and Judah’s repeated offenses, I often think, “how can they be so foolish to repeat the same sins over and over again?” But when I look again, I see that we are no different today. When God condemns Israel and Judah, much of the time it is over the oppression of the marginalized. Today, as things go, we are quite accomplished at systemically oppressing the vulnerable, even if we, as individuals believe that we don’t harbor any prejudiced views towards another person or people group. In my personal Scripture reading these last several weeks, I have been spending my time reading Amos, who speaks for God, condemning the abuses of the powerful. Hear these words from chapter 2:

“Thus says the Lord, ‘For three transgressions of Israel, and for four, I will not revoke the punishment; because they sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals– they who trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth and push the afflicted out of the way….'” Amos 2:6-7a

In our state, in our country, and in our world, we see the abuses of the vulnerable that occur at the hands of the powerful. It happens in places like Ferguson and Staten Island. It happens on campuses like UVA. It happens in the coal fields of West Virginia. It happens in the slums of Mexico City. It happens around the world and in our own backyard.

As we approach Christmas, we need a word of hope, that things will not always be as they are now. We need a word that communicates the power to transform and be transformed. We need the Word, Jesus Christ, God in the flesh, to reach down into our reeking trash heap of violence and fear and turn it into something fertile and life-giving. And the Lord knows that we need Jesus because I surely have no idea how to do that.

This is what Christmas is about. It is about celebrating that God, in Christ, brings his peace into our violence, and breathes our air and walks our sod. It is about a brown-skinned baby born to unmarried parents on a dirty floor in practically the middle of nowhere, as far as the ancient world was concerned. It’s about a God who decided to walk in the world just as it is, as messed up and as broken as it is with people who, probably more often than not, could really not care any less about God or God’s kingdom. Christmas is about recognizing that we have God with us, and that God will never ever leave us or leave us alone. It is about God taking on the hurts and the oppression of the vulnerable.

The Old Testament lesson in the Revised Common Lectionary for this coming Sunday is from Isaiah:

“The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to provide for those who mourn in Zion– to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit. They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, to display his glory.” Isaiah 61:1-3

Jesus quotes this very passage when he is asked by John the Baptist’s disciples if he is, in fact, the Messiah. Jesus proclaimed his mission. He proclaimed why he came to walk with us. He lived as one of us, and then, at the hands of the law, he was unfairly tried, beaten, and hung on a cross, where he ultimately died because he couldn’t breathe. This is the meaning of Christmas. As we wait to celebrate the birth of Christ, may Christ be born in our hearts, and may his reason for breathing become our reason for breathing. Until we make our whole life about making Jesus’ mission our own, we will continue to hear the voices of the marginalized cry out, “I can’t breathe!”

Torture, Baptism, and the Via Dolorosa

Please note: This post is not a statement about my position on any particular political party, or the NRA, so please do not read it as such. This post is meant to focus particularly on a theological statement about torture and baptism asserted this past Saturday night.

Normally, I try to overlook stupid or offensive things that politicians say because it pretty much happens every single day. Conservative, liberal, or radical, politicians are frequently putting their feet in their mouths. Yet in the address Sarah Palin gave at the NRA’s Stand and Fight Rally on Saturday night she made one of the most theologically offensive statements I have heard in a long time. In her twelve-minute speech, she makes this statement:

“If I were in charge, they’d know that waterboarding is how we baptize terrorists.”

Not only did she actually make this statement, but it was also received with resounding applause. I was flabbergasted and appalled by this statement as a Christian. My first reaction was to rage against Sarah Palin and those who hold similar ideologies. Then my second reaction was to take a step back, recognize that people like Palin will continue to say theologically offensive things in order to promote their own “civil religion,” and instead, use this as an opportunity to talk about torture, the nature of baptism and the life of Christian conversion.

So first, let’s talk about torture.

We often see torture as something that is inflicted against particular individuals, but in reality, it is something that inflicts violence upon society as a whole as a means of compliance, coercion, and a reinforcement of the position of those in power. To read more about the violence that torture inflicts upon social bodies in addition to individual bodies, I recommend William Cavanaugh’s Torture and Eucharist, but know that it is a difficult read.

In short, Cavanaugh argues that the practice of the Eucharist (Holy Communion) is not just a symbol, but a real, cathartic, and enacted practice that forms people in the the Body of Christ in a way that produces a social body with a deeper sense of communion than any nation-state, and thus acts as resistance to torture which seeks to fragment all social bodies other than the body that maintains power.

“Torture is an efficacious sign by which the state enacts its power over its subjects’ bodies in purest form.” (Cavanaugh, Torture and Eucharist, p. 34)

Torture is fundamentally about violence and coercion. It is an act that dehumanizes, fragments, and violates. While torture is often deemed justifiable in the name of “protection” or “national security,” ultimately, it is nothing more than violence cloaked in often-patriotic and nationalistic language and purposes. Torture is seen as a legitimate means of coercion by many when it is done by the authority of the state because we, as citizens, have entrusted our protection to that body. Yet we decry torture when it is performed by insurgent or fringe bodies who use torture with the same practice and intent.

While I can certainly understand the sometimes perceived need for the use of torture (even if I don’t agree with it) and this falls into the larger conversation of just war, right now, I think that the important thing to consider, whether you feel torture is ever justified or not, is that it is certainly, clearly, absolutely an incredible violence and an act that dehumanizes both the torturer and the tortured.

When Sarah Palin said that “waterboarding is how we baptize terrorists,” she was making a theological claim about baptism (whether she really meant to or not). As Christians, we understand baptism as a sacrament that marks the entrance into the community of faith, of entrance into the Body of Christ. Baptism is a means of grace that underlies God’s first move for us. It is about grace, love, mercy. It is about being brought into communion with Christ, with each other, and the church in every time and place.

“There is one baptism as there is one source of salvation-the gracious love of God. The baptizing of a person, whether as an infant or an adult, is a sign of God’s saving grace. That grace-experienced by us as initiating, enabling, and empowering-is the same for all persons. All stand in need of it, and none can be saved without it” (By Water and the Spirit: A United Methodist Understanding of Baptism)

To read more about understanding baptism, you can read this whole document online.

Baptism is not about force or violence. It is an invitation to grace, which is the exact opposite. The first thing that came to mind when I heard Sarah Palin’s statement was to think about the often violent history of Christianity as it became a tool of empire. Historically, as the Church became increasingly tied with the state, from the Roman Empire, through the age of conquest, and up through today, the language and practice of Christianity have be co-opted to legitimate and carry out the desires of the state. We hear accounts of Christianity being spread throughout the Roman Empire by mass baptisms at sword point. We hear stories of the conquistadors evangelizing the Americas through violence and coercion. And now we hear Sarah Palin using the theological language of baptism to advocate for torture. Now I don’t believe for a second that she is actually talking about any kind of desire to convert terrorists to Christianity (and note her unspoken assumption that terrorists are always something other than Christian), but I don’t believe that the Roman emperors cared a mite about whether or not his conquered subjects underwent actual conversion experiences. In both cases, I believe that the language or practice of Christianity is being used to create compliance with the ruling body.

So why do I care so much about an obviously ridiculous and offensive statement? Why not just let it go unnoticed and not give it any attention? While Sarah Palin’s remark is extremely far out there, nonetheless, I think it highlights not only the continued problem of Christianity being co-opted to legitimate violence, but it also points to the absolute falsity of civil religion in contrast to the truth of radical discipleship.

In his The Nature of Doctrine, George Lindbeck says,

“The crusader’s battle cry “Christus est Dominus” [Christ is Lord], for example, is false when used to authorize cleaving the skull of the infidel (even though the same words in other contexts may be a true utterance). When thus employed, it contradicts the Christian understanding of Lordship as embodying, for example, suffering servanthood.” (Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine, p. 64).

Lindbeck’s point is that there is a way for Christians to falsify the truth of the gospel when actions are not cohesive with belief. In this particular example that Lindbeck uses, the crusader who declares that Christ is Lord, but then uses violence to demonstrate that Lordship is fundamentally undermining that truth because violence is the complete opposite of the via dolorosa, or the way of suffering of Christ.

We are just a little over a week into Eastertide, where we continue to celebrate the risen Christ and the new life we have in him. But in order to get to Easter, we had to go through Holy Week. We remembered and enacted his way of suffering on the way to the cross. Then we like to skip to Easter and think about his glorious and triumphant resurrection. But even the resurrected Christ still had the wounds on his body from his torture and death. As my theology professor at Duke, Geoffrey Wainwright liked to remind us, “Christ reigns from a tree.”

In other words, Christ’s Lordship and kingdom are not triumphalist, full of fanfare and might, but are characterized by the suffering servant, by the one who lowers himself and gives himself always for the sake of his beloved children.

When Sarah Palin linked torture and baptism in her statement, she was ultimately undermining the work of Christ, the nature of the kingdom of God, and the gift of grace that we are offered in baptism to be a part of that kingdom community.

Christians are called to a life of radical discipleship. For those who profess Christ as Lord and claim to be a part of the Body of Christ, we must seek after Christ and allow the Holy Spirit to transform us into people who more fully reveal who Christ is to the world. While there will always places in which our lives deny Christ because we are not perfect, and we are all hypocrites in certain ways, we must seek to be of the same mind of Jesus Christ, who,

Though he was in the form of God,
he did not consider being equal with God something to exploit.
But he emptied himself
by taking the form of a slave
and by becoming like human beings.
When he found himself in the form of a human,
he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death,
even death on a cross.
Therefore, God highly honored him
and gave him a name above all names,
so that at the name of Jesus everyone
in heaven, on earth, and under the earth might bow
and every tongue confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:6-11, CEB)

Violence, coercion, and dehumanization, in whatever form they take, whether it is torture, or otherwise, is not only a violence against others and violence against communities.

It is a violence against Christ himself.

But we know that Christ does not respond to violence with violence, but rather, he has made peace through the cross.

As much as I want to rage against Sarah Palin and call her all kinds of creative names, in the end my prayer is that she comes to understand God’s grace and the gift of baptism as something not to be used as a weapon (even though she may not have meant to make a serious theological claim), but instead that it is a means of grace that welcomes anyone who will receive it as an invitation to a life that is characterized by grace, mercy, and love.

*I originally posted this on my church blog at dunbarumc.com on Monday, April 28, 2014.