The Belle Brigade Tries to Check Out

This is The Belle Brigade performing their very catchy song "Losers."  The first lines really caught me:

There will always be someone better than you. Even if you're the best. So let's stop the competition now. Or we will both be losers.  And I'm ashamed I ever tried to be higher than the rest.  But brother I am not alone. We've all tried to be on top of the world somehow,'cause we have all been losers.

It's also got a cool modern-Kingston-Trio vibe.  The song seems to be about the futility of attempting to live up to the inevitable comparisons and competitions of human life; the Law.  It's also a sad-but-true statement about the universality of human pain and struggle.  But, sadly and perhaps predictably, The Belle Brigade's solution left me a little cold:

So I wanna make it clear now.  I wanna make it known.  That I don't care about any of that [expletive] no more.  Don't care about being a winner.  Or being smooth with women.  Or going out on Fridays.  Being the life of parties.  No, no more, no.

So, the answer to the pressures of life is to...check out?  How exactly does one do that?  Is a Conan-sponsored declaration good enough?  I wish I could just declare myself immune from the Law's demand:  I will NOT feel that I have to be a better father than I am.  I will NOT let others' expectations rule (and subsequently destroy) my life.  I will NOT worry that I am about to be discovered as the fraud I fear I am.

Sadly, the Law's demands on us weigh heavily whether we accept them or not.  Whether we acknowledge them or not.  Whether we believe in them or not. I want to be a winner.  I want to be smooth with women.  I want to go out on Fridays.  I'm desperate to be the life of parties.

The Law is the terrible windstorm that threatens to blow our house down.  Throwing open the door and shouting, "You will NOT destroy my house!" is not a winning strategy.  Best to get a new house; ideally, one with many rooms (John 14:2).

Proofs for God...and Barbarella

I recently re-read John Allen Aaulos' book, and it reminded me of something that has come to my mind a lot recently, whether it's been through conversations I've had, articles I've read, or remembering watching Richard Dawkins on The Colbert Report. People seem very interested in the idea that God may (or may not) actually exist! Scientists (like Dawkins, a biologist) and mathematicians, like Paulos (pictured right...and looking AWESOME) seem caught up in an almost-Christian evangelical fervor: the message they have come to preach is that there is no God, and they preach their gospel on the same street corners and from the same soap boxes from which we preach our Gospel.

In fairness to Paulos, I should separate his work from that of Dawkins and the like-minded Christopher Hitchens, who seem to be angered by the fact that so many people claim to believe in God. To their mind, "God" is a mass delusion perpetrated on humanity by those who would wish to subdue it. Paulos, on the other hand, has written a very light-hearted book that I actually recommend. It's called Irreligion, and refutes (to the extent that one can refute such things) the common logical arguments for the existence of God. Maybe the most common argument for the existence of God is the so-called "Argument from Complexity." It goes like this: Look at the world, how complex and beautiful it is! This cannot have been the product of random chance. Therefore, there must be a Creator who is ultimately complex, and that Creator is God." Paulos simply asks, "If the creator is so complex, must not he have had a creator? If there is a cause, that cause must have a cause."

I only bring up Paulos' book and his arguments because I have found such arguments fascinating. I have never felt that my faith was challenged by arguments against the existence of God, something I never felt I could (or had to) prove. I'm reminded of the story of Jesus' interaction with the woman at the well in John 4. After a profound interaction with Jesus, the woman goes back to her town and tells the people there, "Come see a man who told me everything I ever did." This woman felt herself so profoundly described by Jesus that she was willing to stake her life on the things that he said. I feel the same way.

Jesus (and the Biblical writers) so accurately describe and diagnose my life, down to the fact that I so often do the very thing I wish I wouldn't do, and vice versa, that I naturally put credence to their other words, including their descriptions and assertions of the existence of God. In the end, though, I'm not too naive to admit that I need God to exist. The need I feel to strive (the Army's "Be all you can be") must come from somewhere! Of course, this is not a rhetorically strong argument. It is undeniable, though, that despite the need to be all I can be, I feel that I am not. I need the God described by Jesus and the Bible, who sent an envoy to me, to be all I could have been, in my place.

Ted Turner famously called Christianity "a crutch." I think it's funny...Christianity never claimed to be anything else. That's the thing that Dawkins, Hitchens, and Paulos don't understand. They're convinced that humanity just needs to be told to throw the crutch away. "You can walk," they say. "Stop letting this 'God' nonsense hold you back!" Their vision of humankind is one of strength, self-sufficiency, and power. They don't have an answer for people's weaknesses, insufficiencies, and fear. These are the people Christianity speaks to. If Ted Turner claims that Christianity is a crutch, Christ affirmed it! It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. Christianity is not for the strong and wise, but for the weak and foolish, like you and me. After all, we all have our crutches...right Ted?

Frasier Crane and the Illusion of Control

The final installment in our reviews of the Sunday Evening Discussion, The Gospel According to Frasier!  Sunday Evening Discussion will be on hiatus until the new year.

In the final season episode "Murder Most Maris," Niles' (David Hyde Pierce) ex-wife is accused of murder. Niles is implicated as a possible accessory, for lending her an antique crossbow, which became the murder weapon. His life swirling out of control, Niles "chooses" to be calm. Martin (John Mahoney), the Crane boys' father, observes, "Wow! He's really holding up well!" "A little too well," Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) retorts. "I'm starting to fear that he's not dealing with his emotions at all!" Martin says, "Right. That's the whole secret to holding up."

This exchange illustrates a disconnect that people, and Christians, experience. What is the difference between what is on our outsides and what is on our insides? What is real? Which is more powerful? As Martin suggests, we often think of obscuring what's really going on as a skill. The grieving mother who gets right back to work, or the mourning father who never cries. This is called, in some circles, "strength." But is this kind of strength worth anything?

As "Murder Most Maris" continues, Niles' life becomes more and more unbearable, and he becomes more and more robotic in his insistence that everything is fine. Finally, he goes to Cafe Nervosa (the inevitable coffee shop where everyone is always hanging out) with Roz (Peri Gilpin) and asks for a straw, only to be told that Roz just got the last one. Here's what happens:

So you see the point: whatever's underneath will eventually come out. The core will come to the surface. The reason we find The Stepford Wives so creepy is that buried emotions are unnatural. This is the illusion of self-control. We tell ourselves that people like Niles are exhibiting great self-control. Martin certainly thinks so. But he's not actually controlling his discomfort and stress, he's simply hiding it. We find that he's only acting calm, cool, and collected. And no one can hide their true selves forever. We put a smile on our faces and say, "I'm happy." But isn't it well-known that clown make-up hides despondence?

Christians often feel it necessary to hide their insides (their sinfulness) from each other, fearing that they'll be revealed to be lagging behind on the great path to righteousness. However, and of course, God looks on the heart. And as we say all the time, it's a good thing that Jesus came for sinners, and not for the righteous! It's a good thing that he came for those of us who can't handle our lives, rather than for those of us who can. The Gospel is good news when we find ourselves exposed, as Niles does, by situations beyond our illusions of control.

A Not-A-Stewardship-Campaign Campaign

November 14, 2011

Dear COTS Family,

As you may know, we are in the throes of our “not-a-stewardship-campaign campaign.”  I wanted to take an opportunity to write to you, in addition to the communication we’ve been doing in the Sunday service, to talk about our campaign. 

Our central text for this year is Mark 10:17-27, the story of Jesus’ interaction with a rich young man.  The man asks Jesus what he must do to be saved; a question that we all ask ourselves with regularity!  But far from talking about faith in God or dependence on Jesus, Jesus talks to the man about his money.  The man who wants to know how to be saved says he’s been keeping the commandments (you shall not murder, commit adultery, steal, bear false witness, defraud…and you shall honor your father and your mother) since his youth.  He’s basically telling Jesus that those things are easy!  Child’s play!

So Jesus says, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”  Mark says that the man was shocked to hear this, “and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.”

Often, churches want to talk about stewardship during this time of year, and suggest ways in which you, the member, can be a good steward.  Many churches use the “tithe,” or 10% of income, as the standard of “good” stewardship.

What is important for us is that Jesus doesn’t ask this rich young man for 10%.  He doesn’t ask him for 25%.  He doesn’t even ask him for 50%.  He asks him for everything!  Apparently, for Jesus, the standard for “good” stewardship is nothing less than every stitch of clothing on your back and every stick of furniture in your house.  You can’t claim to be a good steward until you’ve given everything away to follow Christ.

We might well echo the disciples, who, upon hearing this, whispered to one another, “Then who can be saved?”  Who can be good enough?  Who can be a good steward?  Jesus’ response contains some of the most comforting words in all of scripture:  “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

As you look at your pledge form and think and pray about your support for Church of the Saviour in 2012, remember that it’s not about maintaining your good standing with God.  If it was, the only acceptable pledge would be 100%!  I don’t know about you, but I’m going to come up short of that standard.  It is impossible for us to be good stewards! 

That’s why we’re calling this a “not-a-stewardship-campaign campaign.”  We’re not trying to be good stewards.  The standard is too high.  So with the pressure to be good removed, think about what you actually want to give.  Think about the programs of this parish that excite you.  Think about our proclamation of the Gospel and the great things that the Good News can do for this community.  Think about the support your friends and family here provide.  Pray about God’s leading in this area.

We’ll have a liturgical in-gathering (a special section of the service where we come up and lay our pledge forms on the altar) on November 20 (this Sunday!).  So please do think and pray about supporting (or continuing to support) Church of the Saviour in 2012.  If you can’t make it on Sunday, you can always bring the form into the office or send it in the mail.  Just know, as you consider your giving of your time, talent, and your treasure, that your relationship with God is secure in the gift of Jesus Christ, not in the size of your pledge. 

“For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

Frasier Crane's Etiquette Lesson

Frasier has had a rough day. Someone parked in his spot at the office, making him late for work. Someone talked through the movie he tried to enjoy at a theater. Someone then rented the videotape out from under him. The clerk helps the person on the other end of the phone rather than helping Frasier, who has taken the trouble to come down to the store. His upstairs neighbor plays his rock music (which consists entirely of the lyrics, "Flesh is burning, na na na na na na."). Finally, when a man steals his waited-for seat at the local coffee shop, Frasier has had enough. Grabbing the man by the collar, he runs him out of the shop, shouting, "What you need is an etiquette lesson!"

This third-season episode is called "High Crane Drifter" in homage to the little-known Clint Eastwood film High Plains Drifter, in which a drifter (who may or may not be a ghost) blows into town and cleans it up by brute force. Frasier chastises himself for allowing his more animal nature to come out. He prefers, he says, to settle his disagreements like an adult, with words and reason. But the newspaper hails him as a sort of folk hero. And, to his dismay, people begin to follow his example.

Daphne, tired of someone taking her wet laundry out of the washing machine, decides to use a red article of clothing to take revenge on a load of whites, leading to a great line: "Those were my panties and I wasn't afraid to use them." People all over town start taking Frasier's example to heart and begin giving little "etiquette lessons" of their own. A caller whose neighbor used a leaf-blower at 7am, brags about smashing the leaf-blower into a tree. Another shoves a pound of rotten shrimp into a rival's air conditioner.

After dozens of callers describing their vigilante exploits, Frasier exclaims that they've gone too far! "I displayed a minor bit of force to just make a point...I didn't go around smashing windows or torching lawns! Where does it end?" His caller replies, "Are you saying that what I did was wrong?" "Of course I am!" shouts Frasier. And the caller responds, "But what you did was okay?" This stops Frasier in his tracks. And then, and this is one of the reasons I really love this show, Frasier realizes what the right thing to do is, and does it: "Come to think of it, what I did was just as wrong. I mean, who am I to draw the line at the acceptable level of force?"

This is a theologically profound statement. "Who am I to draw the line?" Well, you're no one. It's not our line to draw. We WANT it to be, which is why Frasier starts on his rant, and why we find The Sermon on the Mount so distasteful. Being angry is the same as murder? Lust is the same as adultery? This is ridiculous! And yet, as Frasier admits, if we are the ones left to draw the lines of acceptability, won't the next person just push it a little further than we did? Where does it end? If murder and adultery are seemingly more gross violations, surely anger and lust are the core of their inception. Frasier realizes in that moment what God has provided for all along: Righteousness must be complete to be worth anything at all. It is only God who can draw the line, and it is only God who can toe it.

Tim Tebow IS Holier Than Thou

I've been watching Tim Tebow's (attempted) transition to "NFL Quarterback" from "Arguably One of the Greatest College Football Players of All Time" with great interest. The thing that interests me most is the number of people, pundits, fans, and otherwise, who seem to be actively rooting for Tebow to fail. In this morning's "The Blitz" segment on ESPN's SportsCenter, Chris Berman and Tom Jackson wondered aloud about Tebow's army of detractors.  Now, it's not uncommon for a successful college player to inspire skepticism about his ability to succeed at the next level, and Tebow certainly has. His delivery is too long, he's too short, he doesn't know how to play under center, etc. These criticisms are all accurate, and may well prevent him from being a successful NFL quarterback. But it is rare for a player who has been so successful to have so many people hoping for his failure. What is it about Tebow that causes such animosity? Berman and Jackson are at a loss. I'm not: Tebow is, to the naked eye, an unassailably good person. And people hate him for it.

Tim Tebow is a Christian, has publicly stated that he's a virgin and will be until he's married, has served on overseas missions, prays on the sidelines...he doesn't hide his lamp under a bushel; No! He's gonna let it shine. But even that's not enough to inspire the antagonism that he has. If he was just "holier than thou," he could be dismissed as yet another self-righteous, hypocritical Christian, and wouldn't inspire such hatred. Tebow's problem is that he actually appears to BE holier than thou (holier than all of us)! He doesn't talk about his religion unless he's asked, he doesn't talk about his virginity unless he's asked, he doesn't talk about anything other than football, working hard to be the best player he can be, and winning...unless he's asked. Which he is. A lot.

Tebow never asked to be the starter this season over Kyle Orton. Never asked to have his name chanted in stadiums. All he ever said was that he'd work as hard as he could and that, as any player would, he wanted to play. It's not his fault that he's been a topic on sports talk shows for a year straight, tiring all the pundits out. Tebow inspires rebellion because he appears to be that thing that we all fear most: a righteous man.

We're not afraid of a hyporcrite; in fact, hypocrisy relieves us. We're hypocrites. That, we get. We fear the thing that judges us. True righteousness throws our sinfulness into sharp relief. Clearly, Tebow (and he would, no doubt, be the first to admit that he) is not truly righteous. Nonetheless, his apparent righteousness inspires hate, because it reminds us all of our shortcomings. We don't spend every summer overseas teaching poor children about Jesus. We don't reject endorsement deals on moral grounds. We didn't save ourselves for marriage. We aren't as conscientious or hard-working. And if we did or were, we'd certainly brag about it. Compared to Tim Tebow, we are all sinners.

We rebel against God for the same reason. We must run from righteousness because it will destroy us, so far from its perfection are we. In the same way that standing in a room with Brad Pitt only serves to remind us how unattractive we are, being in a relationship with God serves to remind us how unholy we are. We need Tim Tebow to fail, and so we root for it, so that he can be shown to be imperfect, just like us.