Prophetic Civility

I’m in awe of Amos, that farmer-turned-prophet from Tekoa publicly denouncing the sins of Israel from the steps of the temple at Bethel. I can hear his thundering words of judgment:

Thus says the Lord: For three transgressions of Israel, and for four, I will not revoke the punishment; because they sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals–they trample the head to the poor into the dust of the earth, and push the afflicted out of the way; father and son go in to the same girl, so that my holy name is profaned; they lay themselves down beside every altar on garments taken in pledge; and in the house of their God they drink wine bought with fines they imposed”(Amos 2:6-8).

Every generation needs women and men who courageously, publicly, and unequivocally expose injustice, oppression, idolatry, hypocrisy, and corruption.

Prophets offer an alternative to present realities by articulating God’s dream for the world and announcing God’s judgment on the principalities and powers that threaten the divine vision.

Amos provides a model of such prophetic confrontation!

But an additional model is desperately needed today. In this harshly polarized and rigidly partisan world, civility and dialogue represent a prophetic way forward.

Prophetic civility requires courage, humility, vulnerability, persistence, and patience. Ongoing relationships and risky conversations provide the context for such prophetic work.

Rather than in public pronouncements and tweets, prophetic civil dialogue is likely to occur around the dinner table or living room, in Sunday school classes or small group gatherings, and in neighborhood conversations.

Prophetic civility preferences probing questions over dogmatic answers. Listening prevails over speaking. Shared personal experiences are encouraged over correcting others. Self-awareness of one’s own complicity and vulnerability temper all responses.

Empathy borne of entering the hurts, struggles, and convictions of others softens judgments and eschews condemnation. Understanding the other’s perspective precedes advocating one’s own.

Prophetic civility requires incarnation, entering the world of others with attentiveness, humility, and love. Incarnational presence is risky, painful, and hard work.

Jeremiah models prophetic ministry characterized by incarnational presence with its vulnerability, self-awareness, courage, and persistence. His pronouncements are basically the same as those spoken by Amos. Yet, he lived among the people, wept for and with them, and suffered abuse and even exile with and on their behalf.

Several years ago, L. Harold DeWolf, prominent theologian and mentor/friend of Martin Luther King, Jr., spent the weekend in the local church I served. At the time,  Dr. DeWolf was actively involved in criminal justice reform. I shared that the local sheriff had barred me from visiting in the jail because of my public denunciation of the inhumane conditions in the local jail.

Dr. DeWolf cautioned that I may have to decide in particular contexts between public policy advocacy and personal pastoral ministry within the facility.

“Both are needed and legitimate,” he said. “The tragedy is people often pit one against the other as to which is more faithful. Both are faithful when done with integrity and courage; and they need to be mutually supportive.”

Amos and Jeremiah were not enemies! They both were faithful to their prophetic calling. They spoke on behalf of the same God and we are the beneficiaries of both expressions of faithfulness.

The current situation in American needs both Amos and Jeremiah. But I suspect that the model most needed today is Jeremiah, the who was pastorally prophetic and prophetically pastoral.

We need prophetic civility formed in humility and solidarity with the wounds and hurts of others coupled with a clear vision of God’s present and coming reign of compassion, justice, hospitality, and peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Healing Scars

The older I get the more scars I have! Scars from multiple medical procedures add to those lingering from childhood scraps. Some are more visible and pronounced than others. The scar on my chest from by-pass surgery reminds me that there is also an unseen scar on the heart itself.

Then, there are the less visible scars resulting from wounds to the psyche. Those blemishes lurk inside and surface in our behaviors and moods. Anger, guilt, grief, even violence often are outward signs of hidden scars.

To be human is to be scarred! Our scars tell our stories. Each mark reveals an event. Frequently, the story is one of loss and grief. A cancerous growth removed. Surgery to repair a diseased organ or fractured bone. An accident or fall. Maybe a battle wound, an act of violence.

The Apostle Thomas fixated on Jesus’s scars/wounds. Unless the wounds were visible, he could not believe the resurrection. Apart from Jesus’ scars, we miss a central meaning of the crucifixion and resurrection.

The  visible wounds represent more than empirical evidence that Jesus was raised from the dead.

The request to see the “mark of the nails” expresses Thomas’ profound theological longing. He wants assurance that the Resurrected Christ is the Crucified Jesus.

No phantom Jesus who only pretended to suffer can be the Savior! Only a wounded and scarred Jesus can save a blemished and scarred humanity!

Jesus’ scars declare the profound message that God is in solidarity with humanity’s wounds. Our wounds are seen, understood, accepted, and healed! God takes on our wounds and redeems them!

“By his stripes (scars) we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5). Jesus’ scars tell the story of forgiveness, reconciliation, love, justice, hospitality, and peace.

Scars themselves indicate healing. The open wound has closed, the malignant cells removed, the broken bone mended, the diseased organ healed.

Jesus’ scars proclaim:

  • Our wounds are shared, understood, accepted, healed
  • Forgiveness heals vengeance
  • Love cures hate
  • Integrity counters political and religious expediency
  • Justice prevails over exploitation and oppression
  • Courage triumphs over apathy and conformity
  • Hospitality rectifies exclusion
  • Peace reigns over war and violence.

My friend, Dale Sessions, assists with worship at Bethany, the memory care facility at the Heritage at Lowman. He bears two clearly visible scars on his head.Dale outside

Dale was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in 2010. Both his father and his brother died of the dreaded disease.

Wanting to contribute to research, Dale voluntarily entered a trial program at Emory University. Two holes were drilled into his skull, leaving sizable scars.

When we serve Communion together, Dale holds the cup. As he bends toward each seated participant, his scars are plainly visible. Those scars have come to symbolize his courage in the pursuit a cure for Alzheimer’s . But they also are visible signs of self-giving love on behalf of others, a fitting reminder of the Sacrament itself.

Dale at Bethany

Another friend’s face is badly scarred from a wound inflicted by racists in the 1960s. He put his body on the line on behalf of racial and economic justice. Some might refer to his scarred face as “ugly.” To the contrary, the scar beautifully tells the story of courage on behalf of compassion, justice, and inclusion.

I’m glad Thomas asked to see Jesus’ wounds/scars. Those scars testify to compassion, forgiveness, reconciliation, justice, hospitality, and peace–SALVATION!

Perhaps Jesus asks to see our scars of healing in this wounded and flawed world!

 

“You’re Only as Good as Your Word”

My grandfather, Dave Walker, was one of my heroes. He died in 1961 at the age of 67. He was a simple man who could neither read nor write; yet, he was perhaps the wisest, kindest, and most honorable person I have known. Granddaddy Walker

The memory of a childhood incident resurfaced recently. I was about nine years old.

Granddaddy asked me to walk to the store with him. It was a mile walk up the country road in eastern Tennessee.

He bought me a candy bar along with his purchase of a bag of flour. We left for our trek back home. As the house came into site, granddad reached into the pocket of his bibbed overalls to count his money.

“We have to walk back to the store,” he said. “He gave me an extra nickel and I’ve got to return it.”

“But it’s just five cents,” I protested. “He’ll never even know he gave you too much.”

“But I’ll know,” he responded in his typical gentle voice. He added, “Always be honest. You’re only as good as your word.”

Granddaddy could have used that extra nickel, probably more than the owner of the grocery store. He was “dirt poor,” working at odd jobs, plowing gardens, growing his own food on a rocky little farm.

When he died unexpectedly of a stroke, that rural community mourned his loss. People gathered in masses for his funeral at the McKinley Methodist Church. These were among the most frequently heard compliments:

  • “He was honest as the day is long!”
  • “His word was his bond!”
  • “If he promised something, you could count on it.”
  • “He never lied; he always told the truth!”
  • “You could trust him with your life.”

I’ve thought a lot about my grandfather during the current climate of runaway dishonesty: Charges of “fake news” by those swimming in untruths and distortions. Social media’s dissemination of false narratives for partisan political or selfish personal gain.

Dishonesty in high and low places has reached epidemic proportion and is increasingly accepted as the norm in political and social discourse. Lying has become a sanctioned political strategy. Character has been disjoined from policy as though winning surpasses personal and corporate integrity.

Granddaddy Walker considered honesty the core of character. Dishonesty he viewed as symptomatic of diseased character. He learned that from Jesus. “Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much” (Luke 16:10).

Fred Craddock shared an experience in the buffet line at an airport food outlet. He watched a man in front of him hide a pad of butter under his plate.

The butter only cost five cents!  A harmless or inconsequential dishonest act! But Dr. Craddock commented that he kept his eyes on his luggage when that man showed up at the same boarding gate. All trust was gone!

Dishonesty infects the soul and poisons every aspect of life. It destroys trust, taints kindness, fractures relationships, undermines community, and subverts the common good. Lies are like termites eating away the foundation, or malignant cancer cells destroying vital organs.

Would you trust the man who hid the butter under his plate with your children? Would you vote for him for sheriff, or city council, or president? Would you feel secure with him having access to the nuclear code? Would you trust him with your life!

Character matters mightily! Granddaddy Walker was right, “Always be honest! You’re only as good as your word!”

“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.”