Full of Grace and Truth

“Full of grace and truth” has stayed with me this Christmas 2020 season to dispel the gloom of unreformed Scrooges, unredeemed Grinches, and an unrelenting pandemic.

The Gospel writer John used “full of grace and truth” to describe God’s coming into this world through the beloved child and prophet Jesus. John gets credit as a theologian for his elevated prologue beginning “In the beginning was the Word…” but, in truth, we are all theologians, speculating in our own “Tiny Tim” ways about the nature of the universe, of humanity, and the nature of God.

In early Christianity, “theologia” was communion with God, so maybe it’s better to consider John a mystic, a contemplative whose vision revealed a thin place—Jesus—where God’s grace and truth could touch, heal, transform our confusions and delusions and self-elevating pride.

Blending grace and truth, to my very human perspective, is as challenging as mixing divinity and humanity. When I think of those among us full of grace, they seem able to be gracious because they hold their tongues when it comes to truth: “No, you don’t look fat.” “No, your profits are well-deserved.” “Yes, you are super.”

When I think of those among us full of truth, they come across as challenging, even judgmental, spoilers, disagreeable. Yes, they are prophets and whistleblowers and much needed in our self-deceptive, aggrandizing, fame- and wealth-driven world, but dinner with them? Heavens, please, no!

But one of the characteristics that makes divinity “divine” seems to me to be its ability to integrate both grace and truth. “Yes, you belong,” grace says. “Yes, you belong,” truth says. In the view of process theologian Daniel Day Williams, belonging is as vital (as in life-giving) as believing. Grace tells us we belong. Truth tells us we belong.

The belonging Jesus proclaimed confirms our place in creation and our citizenship in God’s common spiritual wealth, neither of which is to be taken lightly. That’s grace with a dose of truth.

Happy New Year!

Chris

 

Relevant New York Times columns by Peter Weimer:

The Forgotten Radicalism of Jesus Christ

The Uncommon Power of Grace

How Can I Possibly Believe that Faith is Better than Doubt?

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Copyright © 2020 by Chris R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and blogsite. Other rights reserved.  

The Wildest Places

I promised last week an excerpt from my talk this past Sunday for Atlanta’s First Existentialist Congregation, but the Spirit or a spirit has led me to do otherwise. I had completed writing my talk when I noticed I had overlooked a comma, which changed the meaning of my “scripture,” requiring changes to the talk itself.

Let us risk the wildest places,

Lest we go down in comfort, and despair.

This is from Mary Oliver’s poem “Magellan” about his ambitious sail around the world. Initially I left out the comma between comfort and despair, which suggests “comfort” and “despair” are co-equal results of failing to “risk the wildest places.” Instead, I realized she intended despair as a result of comfort. She is warning that succumbing to mere comfort may lead to despair.

As I made the necessary changes in my talk to interpret my new understanding of the line, I laughed to myself that this would make a good lesson in a high school English class about the importance of proper punctuation!

But the morning after my talk the spiritual nature of my error came to me like a slap on the head from a Zen master. Now reading the mystical poet Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet in my morning prayers, I read the Prophet’s response to a mason’s petition to “Speak to us of Houses”:

Would that I could gather your houses into my hand, and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow...  In their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together.

The Prophet ponders what seduces us in our houses, ending with:

Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, and then becomes a host, and then a master?

Then adds:

Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral.

As I age, comfort and security become more attractive than ever. At an ingathering of LGBTQ prophets a couple of years ago, I inquired why a particularly courageous prophet was not there. “She and her partner are in a retirement home,” it was explained, “And she said they really liked it because they ‘didn’t have to go outside.’”

This past weekend a friend with mental health and addiction issues was released after eight months in jail. Though I’m familiar with so-called “institutional personalities,” those who repeat offenses to stay in the comfort and stability of incarceration, I had thought he would be overjoyed with his newfound freedom. But it has apparently deepened his anxiety. I witnessed something similar when he escaped a rigid, religious belief environment.

For me, the most memorable line (paraphrased here) from the old British film Thank You All Very Much featuring Sandy Dennis came when her character finally completed her doctoral dissertation: “So much freedom is so damn inhibiting!” Some of us in retirement experience the same sort of confusion, I guess one of the reasons I keep blogging.

In my talk Sunday, I drew a connection between Oliver’s “wildest places” and the “wilderness” as a frequent setting for spiritual enlightenment and pilgrimage in almost all religions.

Warning “your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing,” the Prophet addresses us as “children of space” and seems to anticipate Oliver’s sailing metaphor:

But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed.

Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast. …

For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.

“Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast.”

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Copyright © 2019 by Chris R. Glaser. All rights reserved. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and blogsite.

Bayard Rustin Speaks

Additional March on Washington related posts:

Keep the Dream Alive

“Colored on TV!”

Love Force

My post today is unique because today is unique: the 50^th anniversary of the March on Washington. Its too-long-unsung organizer, Bayard Rustin, was interviewed by my friend Mark Bowman, an interview published in the quarterly Open Hands in 1987, the year of Rustin’s death. As subsequent editor of the magazine, I republished the interview in 1999, and you may find its full text on page ten of the Fall 1999 issue. I publish these excerpts in the belief that his voice needs to be heard. And I also believe his story demonstrates again the integrity of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., A. Phillip Randolph, and other march leaders.

Martin Luther King, with whom I worked very closely, became very distressed when a number of the ministers working for him wanted him to dismiss me from his staff because of my homosexuality. Martin set up a committee to discover what he should do. They said that, despite the fact that I had contributed tremendously to the organization (I drew up the plans for the creation of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference and did most of the planning and fundraising in the early days), they thought that I should separate myself from Dr. King.

This was the time when [Congressman Adam Clayton] Powell threatened to expose my so-called homosexual relationship with Dr. King. There of course was no homosexual relationship with Dr. King. But Martin was so uneasy about it that I decided I did not want Dr. King to have to dismiss me. I had come to the SCLC to help. If I was going to be a burden I would leave—and I did. However, Dr. King was never happy about my leaving. He was deeply torn—although I had left the SCLC, he frequently called me in and asked me to help. While in 1960 he felt real pressure to fire me, in 1963 he agreed that I should organize the March on Washington, of which he was one of the leaders.

In June of 1963, Senator Strom Thurmond stood in the Congress and denounced the March on Washington because I was organizing it. He called me a communist, a sexual pervert, a draft dodger, etc. [Rustin spent two years in Lewisburg Penitentiary as a conscientious objector during WW II, later 30 days on a North Carolina chain gang for his participation in the first Freedom Ride in the South.]

The next day, Mr. A. Phillip Randolph [president of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters] called all the black leaders and said, “I want to answer Strom Thurmond’s attack. But I think we ought not to get involved in a big discussion of homosexuality or communism or draft-dodging. What I want to do, with the approval of all the black leaders, is to issue a statement which says: “We, the black leaders of the civil rights movements and the leaders of the trade union movement and the leaders of the Jewish, Protestant, and Catholic church which are organizing this march have absolute confidence in Bayard Rustin’s ability, his integrity, and his commitment to nonviolence as the best way to bring about social change. He will continue to organize the March with our full and undivided support.” He said, “If any of you are called, I do not want any discussion beyond that—Is he a homosexual? Has he been arrested? We simply say we have complete confidence in him and his integrity.” And that’s exactly what happened.

Someone came to Mr. Randolph once and said, “Do you know that Bayard Rustin is a homosexual? Do you know he has been arrested in California? I don’t know how you could have anyone who is a homosexual working for you.” Mr. Randolph said, “Well, well, if Bayard, a homosexual, is that talented—and I know the work he does for me—maybe I should be looking for somebody else homosexual who could be so useful.” Mr. Randolph was such a completely honest person who wanted everyone else also to be honest. Had anyone said to him, “Mr. Randolph, do you think I should openly admit that I am homosexual?” his attitude, I am sure, would have been, “Although such an admission may cause you problems, you will be happier in the long run.” Because his idea was that you have to be what you are.   …

When one is attacked for being gay it sensitizes you to a greater understanding and sympathy for others who face bigotry, and one realizes the damage that being misunderstood can do to people. It’s quite all right when people blast my politics. That’s their obligation. But to attack anyone because he’s Jewish, black, a homosexual, a woman, or any other reason over which that person has no control is quite terrible. But making my peace and adjusting to being attacked has helped me to grow. It’s given me a certain sense of obligation to other people, and it’s given me a maturity as well as a sense of humor.  …

I have learned a very significant lesson from the Jewish prophets. If one really follows the commandments of these prophets, the question of being hopeful or non-hopeful may become secondary or unimportant. Because these prophets taught that God does not require us to achieve any of the good tasks that humanity must pursue. What God requires of us is that we not stop trying.

-Bayard Rustin

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Open Hands © 1999 by the Reconciling Congregation Program. 

It's a Small, Small World

“Most of the time we can forget the universe, frankly,” said Stephen Baxter, president of the British Science Fiction Association and the author of books like Space and Last and First Contacts. “But today, there was ‘a crack in the sky and a hand reaching down,’ to quote David Bowie. It reminds us of our true location, so to speak.”

This comes from a New York Times article by John Williams about last week’s meteor explosion over Russia. Referring to the 1908 Tungusta Event in which a passing asteroid flattened a large area of Siberia, fiction writer Tom Bissell was also quoted as saying, “Can you imagine that happening above a major metropolitan area? It would either fill the churches or empty the churches.”

Most of us live in our own little worlds, living and moving and having our being as if not surrounded by and immersed in an ocean, not just of stars, but of galaxies. Earth is the proverbial grain of sand in multiple quadzillions of miles of a metaphorical cosmic shoreline.  And, if the universe is infinite, probability theorists tell us there is another planet not just with life, but specifically with you, [insert your name], and me. The late television series Fringe was not so “fringey” after all.

Location, location, location! The mantra of real estate agents should be our own to gain perspective on our own pet peeves, Washington dysfunction, and Middle East tensions, to name a few examples. Repeatedly the Psalmist got this, as did the writer of Job and the Hebrew prophets, including Jesus. We sometimes get it too when observing the beauty of a clear night sky, enduring suffering or suffering catastrophes, falling in love or giving birth—all opportunities for Bowie’s “crack in the sky” through which we may reach for the hand of God.

When religion no longer opens the sky for us, it is no longer useful in the spiritual quest. Then science or poetry or nature or art or life events may step in to save us from closed hearts, closed minds, and closed church doors.

Copyright © 2013 by Chris R. Glaser. All rights reserved. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and blogsite. Suggested uses: personal reflection, contemporary readings in worship, conversation starters in classes.

Please click here to make a tax-deductible donation to this ministry!

New weekly feature! Last week’s “top ten” most visited posts inspired me to highlight two previous posts each week that you may have missed. Click on each title to read:

Dolphins and Sharks

Hang-Gliding and Mudwrestling: The Spiritual Life

Blessed Are the Prophets

“Jesus Enters the City” from artist Douglas Blanchard’s series, The Passion of Christ: A Gay Vision, and the book with author and blogger Kittredge Cherry. Copyright © by Douglas Blanchard. Used by permission.

Text Copyright © 2012 by Chris R. Glaser. All rights reserved.

So was Jesus and his followers streaming through the streets of Jerusalem a parade or a march? Were the palm-waving crowds welcoming a demonstration against Rome or simply enjoying a party? Are we talkin’ political movement or Mardi Gras? (This will be familiar to those of you who hear the same conversations about annual Pride observances!)

The answer to me in both cases is “yes.” Both a Jesus parade and Jesus march were an affront to Rome, the political authorities who ruled Palestine. Both a Jesus demonstration and a Jesus party would have been a challenge to the cultural “powers that be.” Both a political movement and a Mardi Gras celebrated at Passover time would have disconcerted the religious authorities of Jesus’ time.

I can hear the politically powerful saying, “What’s this guy up to?” I can hear the culturally influential wondering, “What’s this low-life trying to do?” I can hear the religious elite crying, “This is no way to celebrate Passover! We’ve never done it this way before!”

Yet at the same time we hear, “Hosanna!”—which literally means “save us,” first said as a prayer and then as an acclamation. “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of God!”

Hope and fear, love and disdain, joy and grief flowed on the streets of Jerusalem that day when Jesus, with palm-waving flourish, humbly rode in on a donkey over the garments and palms laid out before him.

Oh, if his friends in Nazareth could see him now!

What PR firm came up with this plan? What marketing company staged this event? Which campaign consultants organized this photo op?

Jesus gives us a clue in the Gospel of Luke, when asked to calm the crowd down: “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones themselves would cry out.” 

In other words, this is what happens when God’s Spirit moves, whether upon the waters of earth or the blood of the human heart. This is what happens when people know a truth that will set them and others free. This is what happens when our spirit in union with God’s Spirit rises up and says: “Never again!” or “I am a man.” or “I am woman.” or “We’re here, we’re queer, get over it.”

Think what all the people felt following Jesus into the city! Surely their day had come! What pride to see the turnout! What joy to believe that they were going to send the powers that be running! What elation to know of a certainty that this was the one who would be the solution, political and personal.

What was Jesus like in this moment, we might wonder.

At the rally following one of the first LGBT Pride marches in Los Angeles, I heard Harvey Milk speak. I was surprised how loud and raspy his voice was, and how abrasive he was in his demands of the culture.

Was Jesus like that? Probably.

I met Cesar Chavez during one of his fasts for migrant farm workers, and I was surprised how gentle and loving and spiritual he was when he spoke of his cause and his people.

Was Jesus like that? Probably.

I encountered feminist theologian Rosemary Radford Ruether in a committee meeting and I was surprised by how unassuming yet straightforward she was, even as she spoke with clarity about injustices against Palestinians.

Was Jesus like that? Probably.

We encounter every prophet for change with a mix of fear and gratitude: fear of what they might require of us, gratitude for speaking their truth.

Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem may serve as metaphor for how we too have welcomed prophets or been welcomed as prophets. On that first Palm Sunday, as the crowds cheered Jesus into the holy city, their welcome did not mean they would not struggle with this Christ. Jerusalem was to question Jesus’ authority, doubt his orthodoxy, ask trick questions, question his belief in resurrection, demand to know when the fulfillment of time would come, betray him, deny him, place him on trial, judge him, mock him, torture and crucify him. Toward the end of the week it would be hard to remember that this same city also welcomed him with a 21-palm salute.

Doesn’t this sound familiar? Haven’t most who identify as Christian and even those who no longer identify as Christian welcomed Jesus with joy only to struggle with him, question his authority, doubt his truth as well as his assurances of God’s eternal love, demand answers, betray him, deny him, judge him, mock him, even crucify him?

And haven’t most of us treated prophets or been treated as prophets similarly?

May the day come when we welcome every prophet with “Hosanna! Blessed are the ones who come in the name of God!”

"Bad Theology"

Copyright © 2012 by Chris R. Glaser. All rights reserved.

Liberals should not allow ourselves to be bullied by self-styled conservatives who accuse us of “bad theology.”

“Our sociology is predictably derived from, legitimated by, and reflective of our theology. And if we gather around a static god of order who only guards the interests of the ‘haves,’ oppression cannot be far behind,” Old Testament seminary professor Walter Brueggemann wrote in The Prophetic Imagination.

The frequent mistake of liberals in our politics of justice and compassion, Brueggemann suggests, is that we fail to claim our theological basis in God’s freedom to identify with the “have nots” over against the status quo. So, “Social radicalism has been like a cut flower without nourishment, without any sanctions deeper than human courage and good intentions.”

On the other hand he says, “A case can be made that unprophetic conservatives [do] not take God seriously enough to see that our discernment of God has remarkable sociological implications.”

From Moses through the prophets to Jesus, the biblical witness is of a God who cares about the oppressed, the widow, the orphan, the alien, the poor, and the religious outcast. Unless we are caring for “the least of these,” we are not taking the theology of the Bible seriously. And yet those who oppose caring for “the least of these,” from social security to health care to immigration reform, are the most likely to claim our theology is “bad.” (BTW, Jesus said nothing about contraception or homosexuality, the frequent litmus tests of “good” theology, and more than once he affirmed the rights of women.) In preserving the biblical tradition, liberals are the true conservatives.

Religious freedom is not freedom from responsibility to provide for the underserved or underprivileged. It is rather freedom from the gods and the demagogues that prevent us from doing so.