Monthly Archives: February 2004

Chairing the hiring committee

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Yesterday afternoon, we had the quarterly congregational meeting at church. Because I missed a crucial meeting a couple of months ago, I have been “punished” by being appointed chair of the “associate pastor search committee”. (We have one full-time and one part-time pastor already on staff; we are looking to replace our associate pastor who moved to Cambodia with her family last year to serve with World Vision). Anyhoo, yesterday we presented the job description to the congregation, asking for their approval of the advertisement we intend to place nationally. What followed was a brief but charged debate as to whether we should mention that women and minorities were encouraged to apply.

We are an overwhelmingly white church. Both our head pastor and our associate pastor are white males. It is a well-held assumption that we ought to hire a woman to be our third pastor; indeed, it was made clear to us yesterday that if we did hire another man there would be definite negative repercussions within the community. Disclaimer: For legal reasons, I need to be careful, even in the blogosphere, to make it clear that the official position of our committee is that we are “wide open” and willing to hire the best applicant, regardless of gender or ethnicity. Having said that, I confess that as I look at the needs and desires of the congregation, I have a strong sense that the person we hire ought to be a woman.

Except for my brief college Catholicism, I have always worshipped in churches that ordained women. (After a few years in the RCC, I admit that the first time I saw a woman consecrate the host, I was uncomfortable.) I have learned that men and women, generally speaking, bring different gifts and emphases to both preaching and pastoral care. I like hearing both men and women preach, and I like turning for pastoral care to leaders of both sexes, largely because I know that I experience the gospel far more fully in that way. Though I respect female and male leaders equally, I know that in some strange way, I hear them differently, and need both in order to be more fully discipled. I am also very much aware that when it comes to offering pastoral care, it is vital that members be able to choose between male and female pastors when confiding a deeply personal problem.

So, the bottom line is, I fully expect a woman to be hired to be our next associate pastor. How does that jive with our legal and moral responsibilities? I don’t know. But I am confident that we can, in some mysterious and perhaps (of necessity) unspoken way arrive at a candidate of the needed gender even while keeping the process fair and open. Perhaps it is a quiet form of civil disobedience, or perhaps it is genuinely unethical. I am not sure.

By the way, any lawyers and law students out there want to let me know ASAP if I just made a big mistake by blogging about this? It’s an important issue, but I want to make sure that the church is protected from any liability issues.

Ooops, he’s at it again

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Despite pleas from virtually every reasonable progressive in this country (including your humble blogger), Ralph Nader is going to make his third run for the presidency this year. Al Sharpton summed up my feelings nicely, which is not something I say very often:

“The only reason he’s running is either he’s an egomaniac or as a Bush contract,” Mr. Sharpton said. “What’s the point? This is not 2000 when progressives were locked out. I’m going on a national crusade to stop Nader. This is only going to help Bush.”

I voted for Ralph twice. (Yup, I was among the relatively few who voted for him in 1996, as I was fuming with Clinton over welfare reform). I voted for him in 2000, in the mistaken belief that the ideological differences between Bush and Gore (whom Nader derisively referred to as Gush and Bore) were minimal. Though Gore still won California, I still consider that vote to be the only vote I have ever cast in error.

I know a dozen other folks (including a few family members) who voted for Nader in 2000; none of us are voting for him this year. Though I voted (via touchscreen) yesterday for Dennis Kucinich, I will happily support any Democrat who receives the nomination. I think Ralph will end up being a non-factor, and I predict that he will receive barely 10% of what he received four years ago.

It’s not enough to mean well

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Christy over at Dry Bones Dance has a terrific (albeit lengthy) entry today ; in a wide-ranging meditation she touches on race, privilege, and the gap between intent and perception in our actions. Here’s an excerpt I dug:

We all have a certain amount of power, and love dictates that we use it well. If I am not willing to risk what power I do have, if I am not willing to say hard things to my own people, and if I do not share the access and resources that I have with as many people as possible, then I hope my friends call me out and tell me to walk my talk or shut up and go home. For example, I talk a fair amount about racial justice in the church. If I am not willing to use my access as a white person to advocate for that no matter what my people think of me, then I am a hypocrite and you should call me one.

So, this is for the men (especially the white ones): I do not want your sympathy over coffee if you will not risk your status to support me in front of your boys. I won’t threaten you or think you’re the axis of evil if you won’t recognize your own privilege and use it for the benefit of everyone, but I will take notice of where our friendship stops. So, the next time someone shows you to an open door that leads to the big boy party, buy some extra invitations for those who weren’t on the guest list. If the ones in charge don’t want to let them in – stay home or throw a better party.

One of the things I always emphasize to my students is the tremendous unmerited privilege I — and other heterosexual, middle-class, white Christian males — have. I spent my younger years defiantly telling other people (usually women and non-whites) that I didn’t feel privileged and never consciously tried to use whatever privileges and unearned advantages they thought I had. Fortunately, a combination of a considerable amount of ethnic and gender studies work and an even more considerable degree of prayer and reflection helped change my mind. My feelings have damn all to do with it; my racial and sexual privilege is with me regardless of whether I am aware of it, and I have a choice to continue to take immoral advantage of it, or to act against it.

As a straight white man who teaches women’s studies to classrooms full of largely non-white women (I have one male in my women’s history class this semester), I am aware of just how anti-feminist the power dynamic in the classroom can be, despite my best intentions. To have a relatively affluent white man lecturing to a classroom that is filled with young — and not so young — African-American, Latina, and Asian women is going to be a situation inevitably charged with racial and sexual meaning and history. If I am not careful, and sometimes even when I am, the whole situation can become appallingly patronizing. It can also be transforming. I cannot escape my maleness and my whiteness and my straightness and my Christianness. I don’t want to. Those are parts of me that I embrace and rejoice in.

But I also know that those whose gender and skin tone and heritage and faith and libido match mine have inflicted a wildly disproportionate share of the social, cultural, and sexual damage in our culture, sometimes even with the best of intentions. And so because I know myself to be the beneficiary of unmerited advantage (even when it is hard to recognize), I have an extra responsibility to listen, to reflect, and to act justly. It ain’t easy. God has been good to me, and with others to hold me accountable, I can begin to act in ways that subvert my unearned privileges, and in some small way, tear down a section of the insidious and often invisible wall of race, class, and sex that separates me from those who have not been as historically fortunate as I.

“In the end, God wins.”

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My favorite pastor I’ve ever had was the former associate rector at All Saints Pasadena, Scott Richardson. He’s now dean of the Episcopal Cathedral (St. Paul’s) down in San Diego. I still get to read his winsome and moving sermons on-line each week, happily, and I love what he preached last Sunday. Here’s an excerpt:

The Bible is a tome of trust; an endless tale of doubtful anxiety that resolves in deliverance and renewal. Because of that, I don’t care that much about the ins and outs of your faith if, by “faith”, you mean your theological positions. On the other hand, I care a great deal about the quality of your trust. And, I want you to enter into deep trust through your adult awareness, knowing that things can, and sometimes do, go horribly wrong in life. We’re not simpletons, we’re not in denial, nor are we Pollyanna. The first promise of scripture is this: in the end, God wins. Because God wins, we win; and all shall be well. And the other promise is this; God is with us along the way, not preventing hardship but giving us the strength and support to press on and, quite often, prevail. Trusting that presence and that power is essential to being well in Christ; it’s our foundation.

And so is an on-going commitment to personal conversion. We are being formed, by God, in the image and likeness of Christ. This process of spiritual formation may take all eternity. We participate in this divine re-shaping right now as we receive life on life’s terms and, once again, trust that God is working God’s purpose out, even when things don’t seem to be moving in our direction.

A friend of mine once told me about a breakthrough that he experienced in his use of the Lord’s Prayer. “Give us this day our daily bread,” became, for him, “give us everything that we need in order to take the next step in the journey”. Let every part of life be daily bread, even those parts that seem less palatable. Chew your anger and your fear and your sadness and your joy and your peace and your power thoroughly. Don’t spit it out; don’t swallow it whole. Chew it, taste it, and, in time, be nourished and strengthened by it. Give us, Lord, exactly that which we need to grow and we will taste and see that the Lord is good.

Amen. (The bold emphasis is Hugo’s).

Weigel and Williams and a civilized exchange

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Despite being as far to the left as an evangelical can get, I do love to read the wonderful conservative Catholic monthly, First Things. This month’s edition has an erudite, civil (thank heavens) and thoughtful debate between the Archbishop of Canterbury, the splendid Rowan Williams, and the renowned Catholic traditionalist and biographer of John Paul II, George Weigel. They debate “Just War and Statecraft”, with a particular focus on the question of whether the just war theory has an inherent bias against the use of violence. Happily, as pacifists we Mennonites reject the Just War tradition entirely –but we can still appreciate a good argument between a Catholic and an Anglican as to the tradition’s precise application in 21st century geo-politics.

Learning to run

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After one last long run this weekend, I will begin the process of tapering down for the Catalina Marathon on March 13. Ambitiously, I’m going to try and do a trail 50K (31-32 miles) just three weeks later, on April 3. I know that most of you who read this aren’t runners. Just for the record, I want it known that I am not a natural athlete! I didn’t start seriously running until about seven years ago, at age twenty-nine. I was looking to burn off stress and anxiety, as well as fight the rapid and disturbing encroachment of ever-greater softness around my middle.

I ran my first 5K in May 1997, my first 10K in January 1998, my first marathon in March 1998. I was absolutely, addictively hooked. I still am. But though I now do 20-mile trail runs on the weekend, and think longingly about completing a “real” ultra of 50 miles or more, I also remember a time when I could not run a mile. I remember the amazement I felt when I first looked down at my watch and saw that I had run a full 30 minutes without stopping.

Eight marathons and countless other races later, I still think of myself (mentally) as the soft, chubby, shy high school boy whose only activities were Academic Decathlon and Model UN. And I know full well that many of my fellow marathoners (in their 30s, 40s, and 50s) were very unathletic — and frequently unpopular — in high school. There’s some truth to the saying that the distance running community is the “revenge of the nerds”! (It’s nice, at 36, to have a smaller waist size, a lower resting pulse, and a lower body fat percentage than I did in high school). Anyhow, the point of this rather simple little entry is to offer whatever encouragement I can to those who think they would like to someday do a marathon — if I can do it, anyone can!

Right about now, Karl Rove and I are thinking the same thing

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My boy Dennis said yesterday:

I want to congratulate Gov. Dean on his campaign, his energy, his integrity, and his courage.

I am proud that Gov. Dean stands with me on so many issues: the urgency of bringing our troops home from Iraq, the critical need to provide health care to all our citizens, jobs, education, and hope for a better future. Together, we stand beneath that progressive banner, and, whatever role he chooses to play in the continuing dialogue, I intend to keep those dreams alive in my campaign.

To his supporters, I would say this: If you love Howard Dean, you’ll love Dennis Kucinich, too.

I think I’m voting for Dennis (via touchscreen ) tomorrow, though I had a brief flirtation in my head with John Edwards this morning. After some coffee, the flirtation passed and I am back with Kucinich.

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Individual freedom, group discernment, and the Mennonites

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As I continue to work and live as a member of two faith communities (all the while becoming more deeply a part of the Mennonite church), I find that I am struggling with the tension between my own deeply American and passionate sense of personal freedom, and my new church’s quiet insistence on the central role of the community in shaping our lives. My own past and my current living situation put me somewhat at odds with traditional Mennonite values, and at odds with recent statements from within my new denomination. I am doing a great deal of thinking and praying and listening these days — and I need to do more — about that major area of divergence.

I found this nice statement from MCUSA’s 2003 resolution on abortion. It reminds me of what I find so attractive about living in community — and it also reminds me of what I find so terrifying about allowing others to have a say in the most intimate aspects of my life:

We believe that the New Testament pictures the church as a community (koinonia), which seeks to discern the will of God and take responsibility as a group for decisions. The emphasis on individual rights and autonomy in our society has deeply affected our community. To call for discernment in the community of faith is counter cultural in the extreme. We urge members of the faith community to engage in a discerning process rather than making decisions in isolation. We recognize that such a process will usually involve only a small group within a congregation. Through this process of counsel and mutual accountability the church may promote a standard without insisting on uniformity for all.

It’s that last sentence that makes me love the Mennonites! I love that we can struggle to hold in tension both individual conscience and community standards, neither running rough-shod over the first or completely abandoning the second.

Wedding cake

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At All Saints Episcopal Church, our junior and senior-high youth groups meet for dinner every Wednesday at 6:30PM. When I walked into the dining hall last night, I smelled the familar scent of delivered pizza, but also saw the surprising sight of a wedding cake, flowers, and a guest book laid out upon one of the tables. “G” (I won’t use his real name), one of our most respected and liked junior-high youth leaders, went to San Francisco with his partner this past weekend and returned with a marriage license. The kids were giddy, both because kids instinctively seem to like weddings (see below), and because they felt genuinely close to history. G’s new husband had to work last night, but G himself was on hand to be hugged and kissed and have his hand wrung with great enthusiasm by young and old alike. “I never thought I would live to see this”, he said (he’s in his late 40s), and his eyes were red from emotion and lack of sleep.

What impressed me most was the excitement and openness of the young kids, especially the junior-high schoolers. As they grow up with couples like G and his husband as role models, they will — one hopes — carry into the wider world a spirit of acceptance that will help to transform the culture. I am often one to have mixed feelings about many things, but when I see a middle-aged groom with tears of happiness in his eyes, my feelings are the same regardless of the gender of his new spouse: unabashed joy and a hearty desire to give thanks to our most generous and loving Father in heaven.