Prairie Pastoral

February 18, 2021 | Leave a Comment

Here’s to the enforcers

I’ve realized a lot about myself as a leader since last March. You know what I figured out just last week? I probably knew it but I never really put it into words? I hate being an enforcer. I can do it, but I hate it.

“No, no, you have to wear a mask when you come in on Sunday. No, you really have to wear a mask. No, it actually has to go over your nose. That’s the whole point. Really.”

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. Did I mention that I hate it?

I said as much last week in my Sunday message, as I made a larger point about how hardship can–not every time, but many times–shape us closer into the image of God.

As I repeated, “I hate it,” for the fourth or fifth time, I began to see knowing looks, heads nodding slightly, in the congregation. Ah, I thought, those are the other enforcers out there. They hate it, too.

We’re doing the work–however imperfectly–to lead through a pandemic.

None of us are enjoying this. None of us.

So, here’s to the enforcers–to the principals, the supervisors, the coaches, the teachers, the pastors, the administrators, the flight attendants, and everybody else whose job descriptions include looking out for other folks. You’re exhausted, too, and we know it.

Thank you, enforcers, for the hours spent pouring over public health orders, crafting safety plans, revising safety plans, communicating the new and newly revised safety plans, and then making those safety plans happen in the face of constant suspicion (at best) and outright hostility (at worst).

Thank you, enforcers, for keeping us safe.

February 12, 2021 | Leave a Comment

Invisible us

Remember Indiana Jones? “Professor of Archaeology, expert on the occult, and how does one say it… obtainer of rare antiquities”?

I grew up watching those silly movies. For way too long, I wanted to be an archaeologist. Then I took an archaeology class in college. It only took half a semester to figure out that archaeological excavation is tedious, thankless, and (mostly) completely lacking in the adventure depicted in the films. I struggled even to stay awake in class as the professor showed slide after slide of pot shards. I was finished.

Those wistful days of archaeological naps came back to me recently, as watched the new Netflix film The Dig. The Dig tells the story of the discovery, in 1939, of the Sutton Hoo. No, not a creature in a Dr. Seuss book, the Sutton Hoo was a burial site in rural England where, among other archaeological finds, were the remains of a burial ship, loaded with gold and other artifacts, from Anglo Saxons of the early medieval times. It was one of the most important historical discoveries of the 20th century, as it showed the world that the people of the 7th and 8th centuries were incredibly sophisticated artisans and ship builders. As Charles Phillips of the British Museum remarks in the film, “The dark ages are no longer dark.”

As the film remembers, the person responsible for the discovery was a man named Basil Brown. Despite the enormity of his discovery, though, Brown was left almost unrecognized for his achievement. The Sutton Hoo artifacts went on display a decade after their excavation with no mention of their excavator. Only in recent years was his name included in the vast exhibit space given to the artifacts within the British Museum. One website goes so far as to dub him “the invisible archaeologist.”
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December 9, 2020 | Leave a Comment

Love or freedom? Lessons on in-person worship from the meateaters of Corinth

Buried deep in the New Testament is a story of Christians being called to choose between love and freedom. In the city of Corinth, meat was being sold that had been sacrificed to idols. By all accounts, it was good meat and cheap, so Christians were heading to the bbq.

Beginning in 1 Corinthians 8:1, we find a chronicle of Paul’s response to the meateaters:

“We all possess knowledge,” the meateaters said.

But knowledge puffs up while love builds up, Paul responds (8:1).

“An idol is nothing at all in the world,” they kept on, “There is no God but one” (8:4).

You’re correct, Paul makes clear, “But not everyone possesses this knowledge. Some people are still so accustomed to idols that when they eat sacrificial food, they think of it as having been sacrificed to a God, and since their conscience is weak, it is defiled” (8:7).

You see, love takes precedence over freedom. Paul concludes, “Be careful, however, that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak” (8:9)

This week, in response to a decision of the Supreme Court, the State of Colorado announced that it was dropping capacity restrictions on indoor worship attendance in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic (https://www.denverpost.com/2020/12/08/colorado-churches-covid-restrictdions/). The First Amendment, after all, restricts the government from making any law which prohibits the free exercise of religion.

Churches have been told what we can do. Now, we consider what we should do. We have a right to worship in person. Now, how do we exercise that right in ways that love our neighbors? The Constitution, after all, is not our final authority.

Different churches will come to different conclusions based on their convictions about the meaning and purpose of worship (the sacraments in particular). Those conclusions will depend upon the conditions in their community: the prevalence of community spread, stress on first responders and medical staff, and the particular members of the congregation and their needs.

John Inazu teaches Law and Religion at Washington University in St. Louis, and he put it this way: “Of course, questions of law and governmental policy speak only to what houses of worship may do, not what they should do. At a time when much of the country is sick and suffering and much of the country is partying and dining, many houses of worship continue to comply voluntarily even when orders have exempted them. That’s a tangible sign of loving one’s neighbor, even at great cost” (https://www.christianitytoday.com/edstetzer/2020/november/scotus-gets-it-right-religious-liberty-church-is-essential.html).

Right now, in our community, our case count continues to climb, seemingly unabated. Our hospital is stressed (https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2020/12/09/944379919/new-data-reveal-which-hospitals-are-dangerously-full-is-yours), even having to take the extraordinary step of ceasing COVID testing because of a staffing shortages (https://www.lajuntatribunedemocrat.com/story/news/2020/12/08/colorado-backs-off-worship-service-limits-due-covid-19/6495233002/). Our first responders have been stretched thin. While we’ve thankfully had no congregational exposure take place in worship, many of our own church family have been or are sick or quarantined even now.

Can we worship in person? Yes, of course, we can. Should we? That’s another question completely, and the leadership of this church prayerfully determined that the answer—for now—is no. In such an environment, we are not loving ourselves, each other, or our neighbors well by creating yet another gathering space in which transmission can occur. Other churches in our community are coming to other conclusions. It’s their right to do so, and we will support them with our prayers.

Some will strongly disagree with this decision. We pray that those who disagree will seek out myself or one of our elders or ministry staff for discussion and prayer. We’ve disagreed before, and we’ll disagree again. Let this not be the decision that divides us.

The Christ Child was born in Bethlehem, in a world just as broken and hurting as ours. He brought peace. May that peace be ours today and always.

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