The Radical Center?

Again, a dual-post until the Methoblog Aggregator gets me updated.

Andy Bryan put up a great post in which he questions the usefulness of centrism, especially as an elixir to the church’s woes. Andy claims that:

(T)he solution to the divisiveness in the church is not to artificially move to the center purely in order to find common ground…. The solution is to learn how to have conversations with people from all points on the spectrum without needing to pretend like we agree on stuff, when we really don’t. The solution is to learn how to speak openly and honestly with one another, grounded in the love of God, seeking to build one another up in love, and disagreeing about our ideas and beliefs with vigor and integrity, but without beating each other up.

I, like Andy, am a liberal (if that label even means anything anymore). My problem with claiming that label is the tone of dialogue these days. If being a liberal means that I agree with everything John Shelby Spong says, then I am not a liberal. If being a liberal means denying the virgin birth or the resurrection, then I am not a liberal.

However, if being a liberal means that those things are open to questioning, scrutiny, and an exploration of the nature of truth, then I am definitely a liberal.

My problem with that label is that those who self-identify as conservatives often accuse liberals of denying that there is such a thing as absolute truth. “Liberal” is equated with extreme relativism. Because liberals are relativists, they argue, we deny not only the absolute truths of Christianity (that Jesus is the son of God, etc.) but that there is such a thing as absolute truth at all. It is a well-articulated argument, but off the mark. In my opinion absolutism and relativism are both reflective of a modernist worldview.

Let me explain. Earlier in a randomness post, I asked a question about the nature of truth that reflects my postmoderinist views. I believe that:

• Conservative modernists see truth as black-or-white
• Liberal modernists see truth as shades of gray
• Postmodernists see truth as shades of color.

(Caveat: this is not meant to insult anyone whose worldview is more modern than postmodern - it is meant only to point out a philosophical difference. Different does not mean better or worse, just different.)

To understand what I mean, check out the movie Big Fish. In the movie, the Albert Finney-Ewan McGregor character is a storyteller. His son contends that he never knew his father because the stories he told about his own childhood were obviously “not true,” tall tales. By the end of the movie the son comes to understand that by knowing his dad’s stories he not only knew his dad’s truth, he knew the truth of who his father really was. Dad’s stories told the truth in ways that simple historical facts could not. Narrative, with all of its tools (allegory, metaphor, factual reporting, poetic license, personification, hyperbole, foreshadowing, etc.) can express truths that simple newspaper-style “just the facts, ma’am” reporting cannot.

My Old Testament prof puts it this way. The grandfather is telling stories to his grandson. His grandson looks up, bewildered, and asks, “Is that really true, grandpa?” Grandpa answers, “Well, I don’t know if it really happened that way, but it sure is true.”

One logical solution to differing positions within the church is to try and find common ground upon which we can all agree, and I don’t really fault anyone for pursuing that. However, as a person who is influenced by process philosophy I believe that it is more helpful to find points of contact from which we can both move forward together. Of course, that assumes that we are both willing to question our own positions and to carefully, thoughtfully and lovingly consider the positions of the other. That doesn’t mean we are willing to abandon our core beliefs at all, it just means that we try and see things from each other’s point of view for a moment and that we are committed to making the journey together.

I think that (like absolutism and relativism) liberal, conservative, and centrist are very modernist terms and therefore kind of unhelpful in a postmodern context. At the same time, I realize that we don’t all live fully in a postmodern context. (In my opinion the field of science is philosophically rife with modern reductionism. Most scientists are very advanced modern thinkers.)

Like Andy, I don’t think that reclaiming the radical center is the answer. For pastors to claim territory on the left, right or in the middle still sets us at odds with people of good faith in our congregations. I believe trying to understand each other’s truths so that we can pursue the absolute truth (of God’s goodness and love, for example) together is a more excellent way.

CD of the Week: Susan Tedeschi - "Hope and Desire"

Again, dual-posted until the MethoBlog aggregator gets me updated. The real blog is HERE.




My brother and I had an interesting conversation last weekend. We are both music freaks, and he observed something about himself that is true of both of us lately.

"If you ask me to describe what kind of music I like best, I have to say it's singer-songwriters," he said. I know that to be true of him. Tori Amos, Sarah McLaughlin, Matthew Sweet, Lyle Lovett, John Prine, Nanci Griffith, Elvis Costello, and bands fronted by songwriters (Wilco, Son Volt, U2) are in frequent rotation at his house. His tastes are as diverse as mine (though I have a stronger devotion to blues and the Beatles). "But lately it seems like my favorite albums are singer-songwriters doing covers!"

He and I throw a lot of music back and forth, and he's right. Lately we do like albums of covers by singer-songwriters. "Under the Covers, Volume 1" by Matthew Sweet and Susanna Hoffs; "Standard Songs for Average People" by John Prine and Mac Wiseman; "Countrypolitan Favorites" by Southern Culture on the Skids; "The Seeger Sessions" by Bruce Springsteen; The Little Willies (Norah Jones' side project) all fit that bill. And I can't get enough of 'em.

We traced that phenomenon back (while songwriters doing albums of covers is a long-standing tradition in rock and country music) to a seminal album in our collections: "Other Voices, Other Rooms" by Nanci Griffith. What attracts us to those albums? These artists have impeccable taste - that's why they are such great songwriters! Lyle Lovett didn't get great by listening to crap; he had to listen to lots of Townes Van Zant and Guy Clark (see Lovett's great covers collection "Step Inside This House.") The artists also frequently sound like they're having a blast recording music they've loved for so long.

I fell in love with Susan Tedeschi's music years ago, shortly after hearing the buzz about "Just Won't Burn." Her sultry Bonnie Raitt-like voice, her rough-and-tumble blues guitar (not to mention that her tone comes from a Telecaster through a small Fender amp - and there is NOTHING that sounds better than a Telecaster through a small Fender amp!), and her blend of well-written originals and perfectly chosen covers make for great listening. Especially in the car. Especially in the summer with the sunroof open and the volume cranked.

"Hope and Desire" represents a departure for Susan. All the songs are covers, centered around the themes of, you guessed it, hope and desire - from religious hope to sexual desire and everything in between. She leaves the Tele in the stand, relying upon Doyle Bramhall II and her husband, the so-talented-it's-scary Derek Trucks to provide the guitar work.

The result? This album is a gem. It begins with what might be the album's most familiar tune, the Rolling Stones' "You Got the Silver." It takes guts to try to claim a song from the Stones' prime. Rather than try to out-stones the Stones, she instead opts to almost Allman Brothers it - and Trucks' slide solo is a thing of real passion and beauty. She caresses, seduces, howls, and smashes her way through the Dylan chestnut "Lord Protect My Child," Otis Redding's "Security," Aretha's "Share Your Love With Me," and the gospel-themed "Magnificent Sanctuary Band." Along the way, she collects "Evidence" of a cheating lover, laments fiercely that "The Danger Zone" is everywhere (GREAT blues cover), sings the praises of "Sweet Forgiveness," and sings that "Loving You is Sweeter Than Ever." Her seamless blend of the familiar and the obscure makes the album feel fresh, new and exciting.

Susan displays great mastery over her "other" instrument - her voice - while the guests' guitar tones are perfect for the tunes and the licks are soulful and tasteful. The pianos, drums, and bass all have just the right swing and feel.

Highly recommended.

The Pastor as Regular Guy (or Gal)

This is dual-posted from my new primary blog.

Ecclesiology is an interesting thing. As time moves forward we are constantly reforming and rethinking how worship happens within the sanctuary. Things we might not have dreamed of years ago now adorn sanctuaries across the land: drum sets (acoustic and electronic), acoustic and electric guitars and basses, electronic keyboards and synthesizers, stage lighting, brass sections, computer display screens, live video, movie clips, ethnic drums (African, Latin, Native American, etc.). Pastors can be seen wearing robes and stoles or Hawaiian shirts and sandals, and anything in between.

As we rethink, reconsider and reform what it means to be gathered for worship as a church, we also must consider the impact our decisions have on what it means to be a church at all. Just who is the pastor? What do the pastor's attire, worship style, preaching style, music selections, and scripture selections say about her or him? If the pastor dresses casually, what does that mean theologically? Is it a statement about the Priesthood of All Believers? Is it a statement of personal authenticity and genuineness? Is it a gesture of welcoming, hoping others will feel comfortable? Or might those gathered for worship find those choices irreverent and impious?

What of movie references? Quoting John Travolta from Phenomenon might be OK, but quoting John Travolta from Pulp Fiction might offend some. Is it good or bad for a pastor's witness to the congregation to admit to enjoying a glass of wine or an occasional cigar? (I know of one pastor who smokes cigars, and apparently his congregation accepts that as part of who he is, and they have been known to buy him expensive cigars as gifts). A Baptist preacher friend of mine is a huge Bob Dylan fan, collecting albums, memorabilia, and bootlegs. I know of a Lutheran pastor who wears tie-dyed clerical shirts and rides a Harley-Davidson to and from church.

I've never preached in shorts, but that doesn't mean I won't sometime. I have worn dress shoes and I've worn Crocs. I've worn a preaching robe and I've worn Hawaiian shirts. I've worn a Fender Telecaster and a Taylor acoustic guitar over the robe (not at the same time). I've worn a suit and tie.

Do you wear clothes that express the authority of the pastoral office, announcing that "I am the pastor, the village theologian and ethicist?" Do you wear clothes that send the message, "I'm just one more sinner saved by Grace?" Do your powerpoint slides use Times New Roman and Arial (default), Comic Sans (playful and informal), or Copperplate Gothic (very formal)? Is your preferred worship music formally played hymns, loosely played choruses, or some combination?

Personally, I want to be as genuine and transparent as realistically possible. The congregation needs to know me as the real me, without an artificial layer of piety or reverence. I'll probably never quote Pulp Fiction during a worship service (unless I point out that "Ezekiel 25:17" from the movie isn't really Ezekiel 25:17 from the Bible - as an illustration of Biblical illiteracy in the culture). But I'm not going to hide my Kill Bill DVDs when parishioners come over either. And I might show up for Bible study wearing a Hendrix t-shirt, but I'll wear a tie and a robe when I preach a funeral.

Letting the congregation know Will as well as they know Pastor does put me in a vulnerable place. There may be much about me that some folks will find disquieting or uncomfortable - like my affinity for Tarantino and David Lynch movies, my utter rejection of "Left Behind" theology, my occasional glass of product from the Shawnee Hills Wine Trail. But as a parishioner for many years, I also took great comfort in knowing that my pastor was not just "the Pastor" but one of us, a regular person, an ordinary sinner saved by grace, a vulnerable leader, and an approachable human being. I realize that not everyone will take the same comfort, but I guess I'm OK with that.

Does that make me emergent? Non-trad? Postmodern? Something else? I don't really know. I hope it transcends such limiting paradigms and makes me real. No phonies allowed!

The Late Show with Pastor Will

How is my relationship with the congregation like David Letterman's relationship with his audience? Read about it here.

My son, the slugger

Read about my son's first ever home run here.

The Hardest Part

I blogged about my first solo funeral, which was for a 14-year-old boy who died of cancer. Making the transition from preacher to pastor was hard, but it changed me for the better. Here.

MethoBlogger Preachers, Unite!

I have created a new blog site, a MethoBlogger Lectionary discussion site. Check it out here.

CD of the Week - Lucinda Williams "West"

Read my review of West here.

Religious Language

Until Jay and Gavin get my new blog on the aggregator, I'll link to new posts from here. Read my thoughts on Religious Language here.

We're Moving!

I'm moving the blog. Update your bookmarks.

IGRC 2007 Wrap-Up

This year at Annual Conference we had a spa. Here is a photo of me receiving a scalp massage from the Bishop.

Not really. This is the moment that Bishop Sharon Brown-Christopher laid hands on me for commissioning. This is actually a photo of the projected image from the video screen. That was an awesome moment, and in the brief time I've spent with the commissioned class of 2007 I am certain that God is at work in our lives and in the United Methodist Church.


I think, though, the most awesome part of the commissioning-ordination service was the Eucharistic celebration. The Bishop led the Great Thanksgiving, broke the bread, and those of us being ordained and commissioned served the body of the conference. All of the older Elders (which I guess is only not a really redundant phrase in this context) looked really proud of us newbies. There was a sense that the Spirit was really moving during those moments.

All around, I was impressed that our debate did not get as far out-of-control as it often does, say, in the blogosphere. There were certainly fun moments, but for the most part it was rather irenic. The process of electing General Conference and Jurisdictional Conference delegates was really cumbersome and took up a colossal amount of time.

For the last several years, the pastors have suggested that we hold Annual Conference on Wednesday through Saturday so that we could be back in the pulpit on Sunday morning. Being gathered for Sunday worship with the other pastors of the conference is awesome, but it is taxing on the local congregations - there just aren't enough retired pastors and lay speakers to go around. However, I was physically drained by the time I took the pulpit yesterday morning. We really need to end by noon or one on Saturday. Most of us have a loooong drive (Peoria is at the northern end of the conference map, and for those of us farther south - and there really is no straight shot there) the drive is taxing. Especially if there are kids in the car. I preached though I kind of felt like a zombie (making this a zombie-in-the-pulpit post for John). By 5:00 I was down for the night. I feel a lot better today. Next year I'm gonna do my blogging from the floor.

Photos: Top - the moment of commissioning.
Middle - the sign my brother and son placed on their table at the service.
Bottom - My wife, my sons and some commissioned goofball. Photo by my mom.