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Re-post: Holy Ground

Each month, we post a series of blogs around a common topic. This month, Rev. Shavon Starling-Louis, NEXT Church interim communications specialist, will be sharing particularly timely past NEXT Church blog posts. These posts point to hope and wisdom for these days that you might have completely forgotten about but are faithful reflections. We invite you to join the conversation on Facebook and Twitter.

This article was originally posted on December 3, 2012. The author’s ministry context may have changed since then.

By Esta Jarrett

Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.” When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” Then he said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” Exodus 2:3-5 (NRSV)

Recently, a stand-up routine by the comedian Tig Notaro made the rounds of “you have to listen to this” lists on the Internet. Last summer, Notaro nearly died from a rare combination of medical problems. About a week later, her mom died in a tragic accident. Not long after that, Notaro went through an awful breakup. Then, right after that, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, in both breasts. At the time of the recording, after time counted in hours, not weeks, she found herself onstage at the Largo Comedy Club, in front of an audience anticipating a stand-up routine.

She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t pretend that everything was okay. Instead of telling her usual witticisms, in which bees taking the expressway figure prominently, she told the truth. “Hello, good evening,” she said. “I have cancer . . . just found out. Good evening.”

During her set, Notaro led the audience through a masterpiece of comedy and an anthropological study of grief. I’ve never heard anything like it. The audience struggled to know how to react. There were moans of sympathy and distress from some, uncertain laughter from others, and hushing noises from the rest.

By the end of the set, the crowd was eating out of Notaro’s hand. They would have done anything she told them to do. It was as if the audience realized the enormity of the gift they had been given: the fit of Notaro’s own self . . . her refusal to pretend to be something she wasn’t.

Had Notaro just performed her usual set, it would have felt like a crime of inauthenticity, posturing instead of art. Toward the end of the performance, at the urging of the audience, she did tell her standard “bee taking the expressway” joke. Because of everything that was not said, the joke assumed an almost debilitating poignancy. The audience, who had witnessed the depth of her pain and beauty, could no longer be satisfied with pro-forma jokes. As they all confronted the reality of death, and found the grace to laugh, the Largo was transformed; the comedy club became holy ground.

When the church is at its best, it resembles that night at the Largo. People need a place to give voice to truth, before God and everybody, and know that they are held in safety and love. Whether in or out of a church building, we need a community where healing and reconciliation mean more than appearances and convention, even if it goes off script . . . and especially if it challenges our expectations of what we paid to see.

A few years ago, while doing my Clinical Pastoral Education, I visited a certain patient in the hospital. She had breast cancer, and her body was rejecting the cosmetic implants that she wanted to conceal her double mastectomy. She was bald, gaunt, red-eyed, and wild in her grief. She needed to talk to someone about how mad she was . . . at her body, at the cancer, and at God.

In my memory, there was no noise in the hospital except her voice, no light but that illuminating her bed. For forty-five minutes she raged, wept, and confessed everything on her heart to this inexperienced seminary grad.

When her storm had passed, we gripped hands, hard, and prayed together. It was hard to know when we stopped talking and started praying. The feeling of God’s presence throughout our conversation was so strong, you could almost feel its warmth emanating as from fire. As we prayed, we laughed, and cussed, and cried some more. After we said “Amen,” the patient’s face was serene, and I was changed forever. That hospital room became holy ground.

Every church I know has unspoken rules about acceptable behavior, whether in or out of worship. Most of the time, enforcement of these rules is self-policing: if people aren’t feeling presentable, they stay home, rather than burdening others with their troubles. They don’t want to cry, and risk embarrassing themselves. They feel too raw from the sharp edges of their lives to be able to put on a polite face.

But when wounded people feel safe enough to speak their truth, to say when they’re mad or confused or scared, I’ve seen the Holy Spirit work miracles in church. Healing begins when a friend hugs your shoulders as you cry during the hymn. Sympathy and help are found as you discuss problems after worship. Even the simple act of being in a crowd of people who are praying and worshiping God can bring about change when change seems impossible. It is precisely in those moments when our lives are messy and unpresentable need that we need church the most.

We talk a lot about our brokenness when we confess our sins on Sunday. But theologically abstract brokenness looks very different from everyday brokenness, the kind of brokenness that makes you feel that you’re not good enough. In the church I want us to be, everyday brokenness becomes a blessing. When we bring our cracked and chipped lives to the font, to the table, to the people, to the Lord, we find ourselves on holy ground.

My prayer is that our awareness of God’s presence will grow and sharpen, becoming as keen as any other sense, so that we might walk barefoot everywhere we go. In comedy clubs, in hospital rooms, and yes, in church, may we say what needs to be said, in the deep and challenging love of God. May the church be a place that people seek out for such healing and transformation, instead of feeling they must stay away until they are presentable. May we all find ourselves on holy ground.


esta jarrettEsta Jarrett is the Pastor at Canton Presbyterian Church in Canton NC, through the “For Such a Time as This” small church residency program. She is a graduate of Union Presbyterian Seminary (although she still calls it Union PSCE in her head).

Image: jayzee/shutterstock.com

An Opportunity to Practice

Each month, we post a series of blogs around a common topic. This month, Rev. Michael McNamara is curating a series that will explore the theme of Christian contemplative practice, which has been central to the formation and development of Christianity. We will learn from writers exploring spirituality from both the secular and the religious, embracing the paradox within that — a paradox essential to contemplative practice itself. How can this Christian or secular tradition impact today’s church? We invite you to join the conversation on Facebook and Twitter!

by Rev. Mark Greiner

Please take a moment to notice your breathing.

For a full minute, simply enjoy breathing. What do you notice? Before reading further, what you do notice about your own breaths?

Is the breathing more slow or more fast? Is it deep into your belly or more in your chest? What sounds come with your breathing? Is there any congestion, or are you breathing freely? While noticing your breathing, do any emotions arise? Do the qualities of our breathing shift as we pay attention?

Our physical body speaks all the time, and we can listen.

I’m an acupuncturist as well as a pastor. As an acupuncturist, I help people listen to their own bodies. Our bodies speak, responding to the food we eat, what we drink, how we move, and more. Listening to our bodies helps us become skillful. As we become aware of what give us life, we can cultivate those qualities. Daily, we are our own primary care physicians.

“Mindfulness” is a wonderful set of awareness practices. (For an excellent guide, see Peace Is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life by Thich Nhat Hanh.) We can also have more than mind-fulness. We can have bodyfulness – a rich and ongoing awareness of our physical selves.

We are, all at the same time, body AND mind AND spirit.

The Gospel of John proclaims of Jesus: “The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.” (John 1:14) What an amazing affirmation of our bodies. Not only did God delight in making creation, God entered creation in Jesus’ flesh!

Of any faith tradition, ours especially is about the flesh, about being embodied. Embodied faith flowers beautifully in both an outer journey and an inner journey.

All the time Jesus cared about people’s concrete, physical needs: being hungry or thirsty or needing a safe haven or healing. Following Jesus means embodying care in very tangible ways. The outer journey is about cultivating and safeguarding others’ well-being.

The inner journey cultivates and safeguards our own well-being. Jesus embraced the whole of his own humanity in body, mind, and spirit. So can we. We are minds, and more than minds. We are enfleshed temples of the Holy Spirit.

The inner and outer journeys are one in prayer. Jesus modelled regularly withdrawing to pray. As our own life in God deepens, we can become aware of more and more. Investing time in solitude increases our intimacy with ourselves, with God, and our capacity for intimacy with other people.

So we return to the simplest prayer of all: our breath. It’s said that the names root names of God are breathing itself. Jesus related to God as Abba (“daddy”). Breathing through the mouth, “Ab” is like the sound if an inhalation. “Ba” is an exhalation.

Let us breathe, and know God.


Pastor Mark Greiner focuses on healing and spirituality. Along with 25 years serving Presbyterian congregations, he sees patients as an acupuncture intern at the Maryland University of Integrative Health in Laurel, MD. His wife works with the Interfaith Partners for the Chesapeake, and they have a daughter in college.

Ministry at the Meeting of Trauma and God

Each month, we post a series of blogs around a common topic. This month, Layton Williams is curating a series we’re calling “Ministry Out of the Box,” which features stories of ministers serving God in unexpected, diverse ways. What can ordained ministry look like outside of the parish? How might we understand God calling us outside of the traditional ministry ‘box?’ We invite you to join the conversation on Facebook and Twitter!

by Remington Johnson

Folks like to ask me about my call. What did it feel like? How did I know?

I struggle to answer and blush a bit to give as honest and succinct an answer as I know how: I went to seminary because I thought I was called to be a really fantastic preaching pastor helping to motivate, shape and encourage large swaths of people. I got to seminary and had a mostly unpleasant time. Everything felt too slow, too pedantic and too flat.

It mostly wasn’t the professors’ faults. Rather, it was that my calling wasn’t to be found in parish ministry. The education was focused on the good and worthy work of preparing me to serve a church and despite these meaningful aims, I struggled. I was bored.

During a January class session, I found myself interning as a chaplain in a local hospital and had that deep feeling — where you know you are supposed to be right where you are and nowhere else — more often than I had ever felt before.

So, I changed my focus and chased down a chaplain residency. After seminary I had the luck and blessing of landing a job starting a top tier cardiac hospital’s very first chaplain program.

At that phenomenal hospital, my place in ministry is to show up at some of the very worst and most poignant events of a person’s life. It is in these moments of crisis and suffering that my call finds its roots. There in those heavy places, I help to create a safe space for folks to feel loved, for them to be reminded of hopes, of lives well lived, of dreams yet met, and perhaps most importantly, a space for them to wrestle and wander with the pain of the experience as they seek to make sense and find the right path forward.

Hospital stays are some of the very hardest places to process health events and seismic life changes. The processing and meaning making that takes place begins at the bedside in the hospital and it extends far beyond the discharge. Walking with people while they process a major life event offers the church a place to ground itself in the life of its peoples and to find fertile ground for shared sacred experiences.

There is an iteration of the Post Traumatic Model of Growth that highlights the vital role of the church body in the recovery and healing process. In this model, the church is where space is created for folks to question the deep existential concerns that a trauma can stir up and it is in this safe place of pot lucks, Gospel readings, and parking lot conversations that folks are given the opportunity to begin to heal from their experience.

The intersection of my work with parish ministry sits right in the midst of that painful and confusing time after a seismic event. I cannot follow my patients and their families’ home. I have faith that their churches and their people will continue the good and heavy work of holding them, listening to them, and cautiously awaiting the long slow work of healing. Just as I stand as the one of the church’s emissaries of love in the midst of very heavy times, the church body continues that work long after a family has left the hospital.

My service as a hospital chaplain has been and continues to be a remarkable source of joy and meaning. I get to share this joy with those I care for and with. When I guest preach, I can bring this joy and meaning back to the congregations.

In a way, those I care for helped save my soul: they showed me who I was and where I needed to be. Their stories of God’s hand in their lives reminded me of God’s love for me and all peoples.

This work is wondrously mutual.


Remington Johnson is the manager of Chaplain Services at a leading cardiac hospital. Along with her service as a medical chaplain, she serves as the chair of the ethics committee and assists families in navigating difficult decisions. She also tends to the growing palliative care program. Outside of the hospital, Remington raises a young son, imagines a delightful future with her girlfriend and builds beautiful things out of wood. Most every day at 5pm you can find her sweating out her feelings at one of those gyms where they lift heavy things and run around to feel alive.

Building Community Across Divides: A Book List

Each month, we post a series of blogs around a common topic. In November, Don Meeks and Jeff Krehbiel curated “Can We Talk?”, a modest attempt at an uncommonly gracious conversation among colleagues who differ on matters of conscience. Can we bridge the theological differences that divide us? Can we even talk about them? Can we affirm the best in each other’s theological tradition while honestly confessing the weaknesses of our own? We invite you to join the conversation on Facebook and Twitter!

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We asked our contributing authors this month to tell us what they are reading or have read that has helped them in the work of building community across divides. Here’s what they said:

Jodi Craiglow

Culture Making: Recovering Our Creative Calling, Andy Crouch
“I recommend this book probably five times as often as I recommend all other books — combined. Crouch’s main argument is simple but profound: We can’t change culture by critiquing it. We can only change culture by creating
more of it.”

Exclusion and Embrace by Miroslav Volf
“Easily (and simultaneously) the most beautiful and the most challenging book I’ve ever read. Volf argues that we can only truly experience reconciliation when we embrace “the other,” bringing them into our lives in the same way that we’ve been embraced by God.”

Roy Howard

Destroyer of the Gods: Early Christian Distinctiveness in the Roman World by Larry Hurtado
“This is a clearly written book of Christian history that has implications for the church of our time under a different empire and seeking a distinctive identity as Christians that will resist the idolatries of the culture and more than resistance, offer a compelling alternative. Our ancestors in the faith have frequently had to face similar challenges as we do.”

The Revelatory Body: Theology as Inductive Art by Luke Timothy Johnson
“This book explores theology through the experiences of the body: the dying body, the aging body, the sexual body, the body in play and the body at work. It’s a compelling argument by a New Testament scholar that scripture itself is a response to the experience of God in the body, and hence we should pay attention to the body for signs of God’s presence among us.”

Joe Duffus

City of Man: Religion and Politics in a New Era by Michael Gerson with Peter Wehner
“This looks like a fitting start for traditional or evangelical Christians to consider in light of changes in our culture and the sharp decline of civility in discussion.”

So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed by Jon Ronson
“This book tells the stories of various people whose lives were ruined by Internet ‘mobs’ that reacted to things those people said on social media. He wrote a long article based on the book for the New York Times a while back that I keep coming back to, because of what it says about how people’s online behavior has become so much more impulsive, vicious and bombastic than anything they might do face-to-face.”

Don Meeks

Jesus Outside the Lines: A Way Forward for Those Who are Tired of Taking Sides by Scott Sauls
From Amazon: “Whether the issue of the day on Twitter, Facebook, or cable news is our sexuality, political divides, or the perceived conflict between faith and science, today’s media pushes each one of us into a frustrating clash between two opposing sides. Polarizing, us-against-them discussions divide us and distract us from thinking clearly and communicating lovingly with others. Scott Sauls, like many of us, is weary of the bickering and is seeking a way of truth and beauty through the conflicts. Jesus Outside the Lines presents Jesus as this way. Scott shows us how the words and actions of Jesus reveal a response that does not perpetuate the destructive fray. Jesus offers us a way forward – away from harshness, caricatures and stereotypes. In Jesus Outside the Lines, you will experience a fresh perspective of Jesus, who will not (and should not) fit into the sides.”

Body Broken: Can Republicans and Democrats Sit in the Same Pew by Charles D. Drew
From Amazon: “Can Christians be political activists without hating those who disagree? As the next presidential election comes into view, Americans are deciding where to stand on the key issues. The church has often been as politically divided as the culture, leading many Christians to withdraw from politics or to declare alliances prematurely. But Charles Drew offers an alternative for people who care deeply about their faith and about the church’s corporate calling in the world. In this updated and revised version of A Public Faith (NavPress 2000), Drew helps Christians to develop practical biblical convictions about critical social and political issues. Carefully distinguishing between moral principle and political strategy, Body Broken equips believers to build their political activism upon a thoughtful and biblical foundation. This balanced approach will provide readers Democrats, Republicans, or Independents with a solid biblical foundation for decision making. Drew even helps Christians of all political persuasions to understand how they can practice servanthood, cooperation and integrity in today’s public square. With questions at the end of each chapter to help readers explore and apply principles, Body Broken will train believers to actively engage with political issues while standing united as a church.”

The End of White Christian America by Robert P. Jones
From Amazon: “Drawing on more than four decades of polling data, The End of White Christian America explains and analyzes the waning vitality of white Christian America. Jones argues that the visceral nature of today’s most heated issues—the vociferous arguments around same-sex marriage and religious liberty, the rise of the Tea Party following the election of our first black president, and stark disagreements between black and white Americans over the fairness of the criminal justice system—can only be understood against the backdrop of white Christians’ anxieties as America’s racial and religious topography shifts around them.”

Jessica Tate

Disunity in Christ: Uncovering the Hidden Forces that Keep Us Apart by Christena Cleveland
“This is a book that takes our all-too-common labels of one another as ‘right Christians’ and ‘wrong Christians,’ explores the sociology behind our division, and reminds us that Jesus commands us to love our neighbors (all of them), just as he did — relentlessly.”

The Argument Culture: Stopping America’s War of Words by Deborah Tannen
“Written in 1998, this one is starting to show some age, but continues to be a helpful book as it traces today’s public discourse (or lack thereof). While it is a linguistic perspective, not a theological one, Tannen opens by saying, ‘This is not another book about civility…. Our spirits are corroded by living in an atmosphere of unrelenting contention — an argument culture.'”

Playing the Enemy: Nelson Mandela and the Game that Made a Nation by John Carlin
“This book paints the picture of Nelson Mandela’s consistent and persistent work to humanize white Afrikaners and black South Africans to one another through the winning of their hearts in a united force behind the rugby team – the Springboks. It’s a compelling story of playing the long game, refusing to demonize, and seeking to find the image of God in every person. I read it as a parable.”

Quinn Fox

The Road to Character by David Brooks
“One of the leading public intellectuals of our day, Brooks challenges readers to focus on the deeper values that should inform our lives—by striving to shift the focus of our living away from the ‘résumé virtues’—achieving wealth, fame and status—toward the ‘eulogy virtues’—those character traits that are worthy of being at the core of our being: kindness, bravery, honesty and faithfulness.”

To Change the World: The Irony, Tragedy and Possibility of Christianity in the Late Modern World by James Davison Hunter
“To change hearts and minds has been the goal of modern Christians seeking to correct a culture deemed fallen and morally lax. Hunter (author of Culture Wars) finds this approach pervasive among Christians of all stripes and in every case deeply flawed, to the point of undermining the message of the very gospel they cherish and desire to advance. After charting the history of Christian assumptions and efforts to change culture, Hunter investigates the nature of power and politics in Christian life and thought, and then proposes an alternative: what he calls the practice of faithful presence, rooted not in a desire to change the world… but rather in a desire to honor the creator of all goodness, beauty, and truth.”

Living with Difference: How to Build Community in a Divided World by Adam B. Seligman, Rahel R. Wasserfall, and David W. Montgomery
“Written by a team of scholars who specialize in helping communities engage with difference, this book explores the challenges and necessities of accommodating difference, however difficult and uncomfortable such accommodation may be. The authors are part of an organization that has worked internationally with community leaders, activists, and other partners to take the insights of anthropology out of the classroom and into the world. Rather than addressing conflict by emphasizing what is shared, Living with Difference argues for the centrality of difference in creating community, seeking ways not to overcome or deny differences but to live with and within them in a self-reflective space and practice.”

Reconciliation Within

Each month, we post a series of blogs around a common topic. This month, Don Meeks and Jeff Krehbiel are curating “Can We Talk?”, a modest attempt at an uncommonly gracious conversation among colleagues who differ on matters of conscience. Can we bridge the theological differences that divide us? Can we even talk about them? Can we affirm the best in each other’s theological tradition while honestly confessing the weaknesses of our own? We invite you to join the conversation on Facebook and Twitter!

by Brian Ellison

What makes for reconciliation – authentic partnership, visible and felt unity, genuinely mutual care and affection – among people who on the most important questions already agree? Why do they need reconciliation at all?

Much of my work in the church has been focused on trying to build bridges — or at least address the divide — between theological conservatives and liberals. I’ve done that, with increasing openness, as a progressive, and for the last four years have led the Covenant Network of Presbyterians, a group that advocates for inclusion of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer people in the church’s life and leadership, and more broadly for a church-wide ethos of justice and love for all people. This has involved a lot of conversation with “the other side” — those who identify as evangelicals or conservatives. There’s plenty of discord there to work on.

bridge-bwBut the history of progressive work in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) is also filled with accounts of people and groups whose primary interests, theological foundations and long-term goals are the same, but who for whatever reason could not seem to come together. This was true in centuries past among reformist and forward-looking voices, dividing the denomination repeatedly sometimes among the most nuanced of lines. It was true in the civil rights era as a proliferation of agencies, caucuses and causes elbowed their way into prominence, not always on the same page. And it was true in the long struggle for LGBTQ inclusion and equality (a struggle, we should note, that is still underway), when various advocacy organizations vied not merely with their opponents but with each other for how best to fight the fight.

(It is also true, it seems fair to say, among conservative voices, time and again boiling down to a “should we stay or should we go” debate, played out generation after generation and diluting that movement’s impact — or damage, depending on one’s perspective.)

The Covenant Network, for its two decades of existence, has been an exemplar of the consensus-building, take-it-slow, find-common-ground approach to progressive work that is found by some to be comforting and effective and others to be infuriating and painful.

The Essential Nature of Reconciliation Within a Movement

I’ve been thinking about the line that sometimes separates those within the same movement. Reconciliation and mutual understanding among those who share a vision for the church, I’m coming to think, is every bit as essential for the unity of the church. And if it is true that generally more progressive elements are now in a season of setting the general tone and direction for the church’s life, are not those internecine relationships essential for the health of unity across that greater divide, the one between separating progressives from conservative Presbyterians who fear for their church’s future, as well?

To that end, I want to explore how various voices, often in conflict with one another not about the “what” and “why” but about the “how” and “when,” work together in common cause. How do we ensure we are not merely shifting the battle lines to the left, but rather finding a way to do less battling altogether?

I should be honest about my own predispositions: the Covenant Network role suits me. Before this call, I was pastor of a theologically diverse congregation. I have served as a presbytery stated clerk and a Committee on Ministry moderator. I work part-time as a political journalist at an NPR station, seeking to model fact-based and objective evenhandedness in my reporting. I’m a gay man who grew up in a conservative setting that helps me understand that mindset and speak the language; some of my best friends are evangelicals, one might say. That sort of reconciliation work comes naturally.

But I’ve worked with many engaged in struggles for justice and equality far longer than I, who have suffered far more than I, and who have little patience for an approach consistent with my comfort level. There is truth to be spoken, and they speak it boldly, frequently, loudly. Justice delayed is justice denied. When anyone suffers, we all continue to suffer. And now that our views are in the ascendancy, why take a slice, they might ask, when we rightly should enjoy the whole justice pie?

The difference in approach is real, and discord between the camps within the camp with real consequences. Taken to their extremes, one is prophetic and the other pragmatic. One gets things done but compromises; one remains true to self even if victory must wait another day. One might wait to bring others along, while one does the right thing and trusts that others will eventually catch up.

How It Can Happen

Is reconciliation necessary? Certainly at times it is. Sometimes the deepest wounds are the ones suffered at the hands of one’s allies. And even when there is no “friendly fire” injury, there is still the sense that what one group regards as victory, the other sees as loss. Progress for one is a setback to the other.

So as we think about reconciliation among those who already purport to agree (not just about LGBTQ issues but in any common work for building up the church), I invite us to consider a few health elements to guide our time and energy.

Focus on relationships

When Jesus encountered opponents, he engaged them. When he encountered the other, he sat down with them for a meal. When he spoke about addressing conflict or concern, he counseled seeking someone out for conversation. Nothing good comes from us keeping our distance. And the best way to facilitate meaningful conversation in time of conflict is for that conversation to happen organically with someone we already know, have already shared our story with, have already found common ground and interests. If damage has already been done, this may need to begin with confession, repentance and forgiveness.

This is good practice in presbyteries, in congregations and certainly among leaders of groups advocating similar agendas. Relationship isn’t just preparation for Christian work; it is the Christian work. When we show God’s love in relationship, we are living out our mission. When we are able to speak to each other as friends, not merely as fellow laborers, true reconciliation becomes possible.

Translate common commitments to common action

Many problems in the past have occurred when the two groups — appreciative of each other’s position but distrustful of each other’s ideas — have organized separately, developed separate goals and eventually found themselves working at cross-purposes. A way forward includes sitting down together early enough (or frequently enough) that our common ground can be not only around big ideas, but also in specific ways of embodying them.

This involves compromise at times, but perhaps not as much as one might expect. When the coming together happens in the formative stages, the action plan can develop organically and mutually. Both parties have ownership, together with an appreciation for the journey toward the outcome. All are more invested in the project, and none are left to exercise judgment on the goal’s inadequacy or error.

Always have an eye to broader reconciliation

Finally, those seeking reconciliation within a movement must assume a certain attitude toward inclusion. This is a matter of posture rather than specific policy. It is about how to bring the most people on board, including (in time) those across the wider aisle. When our thinking about the future of the church (or any other organization) is systematically geared toward welcoming others in, we find ourselves less inclined to draw lines and more prone to open doors. When we think less about defeating our “opponents” and more about inviting them as guests (or even co-hosts), then we will speak differently, act differently, decide differently. And when we live with an eye to the day when all will be one, then our more modest “internal” differences decrease in perceived importance.

Concluding Thoughts

I have been blessed to see healthy relationships form and blossom, both within diverging voices in my own organization, and between our leadership and that of other groups (like More Light Presbyterians). We have frequently (though not always!) done faithful work to model the hope and care and mutual appreciation we long for in the whole church. My hope and prayer is that all who seek to do God’s work together might similarly tend to their relationships with one another — trusting that each small step of reconciliation will ultimately lead to the reconciliation of us all.


brian-marriage-sermonBrian Ellison is executive director of the Covenant Network, which has worked since 1997 for inclusion of all people and unity among those with differing views in the Presbyterian Church (USA). He previously served as pastor of Parkville (Mo.) Presbyterian Church and as a member and moderator of committees at the General Assembly and Heartland Presbytery. Brian lives in Kansas City, Mo., where he also is a host/contributor at NPR affiliate KCUR-FM, a freelance writer, and an adjunct instructor in preaching.

Finding – and Being – a Person of Peace

Each month, we post a series of blogs around a common topic. This month, Don Meeks and Jeff Krehbiel are curating “Can We Talk?”, a modest attempt at an uncommonly gracious conversation among colleagues who differ on matters of conscience. Can we bridge the theological differences that divide us? Can we even talk about them? Can we affirm the best in each other’s theological tradition while honestly confessing the weaknesses of our own? We invite you to join the conversation on Facebook and Twitter!

by Jodi Craiglow

“Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house.” – Luke 10:5-7 (NRSV)

At the end of October, Don Meeks approached me about contributing a piece for the NEXT Church blog about a lesson I’ve learned in my time as a bridge-builder. And as I thought about what I’d write, these verses from Luke’s gospel came to mind.

tsr_4366_webNow, I know we wouldn’t naturally associate this particular passage with peacemaking within the bounds of our own church. Luke 10 is all about Jesus sending out his 70-or-so protégés for their maiden voyage of cold-call evangelism, isn’t it? Well, yes… but I’m willing to argue that it has broader implications, as well. Follow me on this one.

Recently I’ve been reading Christine Pohl’s book, Making Room: Recovering Hospitality as a Christian Tradition, and she makes (at least to me) a startling point:

Personal hospitality, in home and in church, tends to be reserved for people with whom we already have some connections. It is hard for us to think of offering personal hospitality to strangers. Strangers that we do invite into our homes are rarely complete strangers to us. Complex educational, socioeconomic, familial, and religious networks reduce the strangeness, the “unknownness” of such people.

In other words, we like hanging out with people that we have at least some familiarity with, some sort of common ground upon which we can build a relationship. So, when Jesus was telling his followers to find and stay with a “person of peace,” he wasn’t just kickstarting a first-century Airbnb. He was telling them to keep their eyes open for that person God had already been working on (and through), who could serve as their cultural liaison. Jesus told them to hunker down with this person, so that their relationship could deepen – which then, if they played their cards right, would create common ground with that person’s entire cultural group. These visitors wouldn’t be “complete strangers” anymore; their “unknownness” would be reduced by the fact that they all now had a mutual friend.

So, why bring this up here? Well, my own experience has taught me that in a lot of ways, the factions we current-day churchgoers have forged ourselves into have made us “strangers” of one another. Because we choose not to interact with “those people” who don’t agree with us theologically, politically, socially… you name it… we have little to no idea who “they” really are. (This year’s election cycle, anyone?) That’s where a person of peace comes in. If God is calling you to a ministry of bridge-building, I’d wager my eye teeth that God’s already working on somebody within that group you’re being called to connect with. It’s your job to keep your eyes open for this person.

What should you look for? In my experience, these “people of peace” are relatively well-connected within their representative groups. They’re well-versed in the culture of their own group, but often have at least a little working knowledge of where you’re coming from. They tend to be good listeners, and like to get as full a picture of a given situation as they can before drawing conclusions. They’re usually the type of people who love people, and they’re willing to lend you a little of their social capital so that you can navigate your way through your new environment. (In other words, they’ll risk some of their reputation to boost yours.)

If you just read the previous paragraph and thought to yourself, “Hey – that sounds like me!” maybe God could be calling you to be a person of peace. I’d encourage you to keep your eyes open for somebody outside your “tribe” who might be interested in getting to know you. Build a relationship with this person, and then broaden that relationship out to others within your group. (And, if you’re feeling really feisty, let that “sojourning” person be a person of peace for you as you get to know the group they come from.) And, before you know it, the bridge is building itself.

That’s what happened for me… come find me, and I’ll tell you my story. And if at any point you’d like me to be your “person of peace,” all you have to do is ask.


Jodi CraiglowJodi Craiglow is a Ruling Elder at First Presbyterian Church in Libertyville, IL. She is a PhD student in Educational Studies at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, and serves as an adjunct professor at Trinity International University and Trinity Graduate School.

Belhar: A Reconciliation Place for the Sake of the World

Each month, we post a series of blogs around a common topic. This month, Don Meeks and Jeff Krehbiel are curating “Can We Talk?”, a modest attempt at an uncommonly gracious conversation among colleagues who differ on matters of conscience. Can we bridge the theological differences that divide us? Can we even talk about them? Can we affirm the best in each other’s theological tradition while honestly confessing the weaknesses of our own? We invite you to join the conversation on Facebook and Twitter!

by Quinn Fox

belhar-ga

Allan Boesak addressing the 222nd PC(USA) General Assembly

I had the blessing to have been in the room of all the G.A. committees that had anything to do with the Confession of Belhar’s journey into our Constitution (all four times committees voted as well as the final recommendation for inclusion in the Book of Confessions). Between 2008 and 2016, my role changed. I began as committee resource coordinator (2008 & 2010); I was asked by National Capital Presbytery to serve as overture advocate (2012) for a reconsideration of the narrowly defeated overture. In 2014, I moderated the Committee on Theological Issues that (again) recommended adding Belhar. Last June in Portland, as an observer, I witnessed the final GA committee vote to recommend the inclusion of this remarkable confession in our constitution. Remarkable primarily for the context out of which Belhar proclaimed the central gospel message of reconciliation.

To change our Book of Confessions requires the majority vote of three General Assemblies, the recommendation of a special committee appointed by a G.A. moderator, and a super-majority of presbyteries. It’s the most difficult constitutional change to make, because the Book of Confessions is our foundation.

The basement, or foundation, is sometimes forgotten about or taken for granted when there is lots of activity going on upstairs. In recent years we’ve been remodeling our PCUSA “house.”

Remodeling work is chaotic; it can be all-consuming. During those “remodeling” years most Presbyterians didn’t think much about the basement (we were squabbling about where there should and shouldn’t be walls in our Book of Order). A few went down to see what they could find to make a case for what they wanted to see happen upstairs, but that was the extent.

One is unwise to change a foundation hastily. It takes time and significant consensus, especially in the Presbyterian house.

After eight years of process, our denominational basement has an addition—a fortification and amplification of our core Reformed theology, articulated to engage issues we face in our 21st century context. After decades of divisive debates about the upstairs remodel, we have also voted to change our foundation. Now there’s a basement room dedicated to reconciliation and justice. Of course, we have a 50-year-old justice and reconciliation room that calls prophetically for the abolition of racial discrimination—a voice of reconciliation in the public square. Perhaps more circumspectly, no doubt less ambitiously, our “Belhar room” calls for reconciliation within the church … at a time when our culture is deeply divided (and lacking in justice). And not only our culture. Hundreds of congregations are seeking to depart. Our ecclesial strife is inseparable from the larger cultural divides.

Belhar attests: the gospel is fundamentally about reconciliation. Our world, our nation, our local communities desperately need reconciliation and justice. Christians know something about this… the reconciliation God has given us in Jesus Christ (as individuals, as God’s people and as God’s covenant community). This message of reconciliation is desperately needed in a world of over 65 million refugees and displaced persons, in a country polarized by vitriolic political campaigns. Belhar tells us that the church’s message is reconciliation; Belhar also tells us that we need to hear the message ourselves! Will we?

We have rich reconciliation resources—not only in Belhar but in our larger Book of Confessions. I invite you down to the basement for a look around. It’s a very cool place once you leave all the hustle and bustle going on upstairs. It’s my favorite room in our Presbyterian house.


quinn_foxQuinn Fox, associate pastor for Discipleship at National Presbyterian Church in Washington, D.C., attended Fuller and Princeton Theological Seminaries before earning his Ph.D. from Vanderbilt University in the history of Christian thought. Prior to this, he served as Associate for Theology and Director of the Company of New Pastors in the Office of Theology & Worship. 

Building Bridges, Allowing for Hope

Each month, we post a series of blogs around a common topic. This month, Don Meeks and Jeff Krehbiel are curating “Can We Talk?”, a modest attempt at an uncommonly gracious conversation among colleagues who differ on matters of conscience. Can we bridge the theological differences that divide us? Can we even talk about them? Can we affirm the best in each other’s theological tradition while honestly confessing the weaknesses of our own? We invite you to join the conversation on Facebook and Twitter!

by Roy Howard

There are bridges that need to be repaired. Some are too worn out to depend on; yet everyday we do. They must be replaced sooner rather than later. Of course, I’m not only speaking about the infrastructure of our country’s highways, which we know is in dire need of repair. I am talking about the moral infrastructure of our common life in civil society. The relational fabric of our lives is in deep need to repair, restoration and rebuilding.

The damage of the election cycle is serious and deep. Now that Donald Trump has been elected and Hilary Clinton defeated, there will be a great need to construct new bridges and repair existing ones. The Church that is sustained by the crucified God whose reconciling love for all people was manifest in Jesus Christ can be a witness in these turbulent days, and not by speech alone. Bridge-building is necessary not only in this country but around the world, and it is certainly not the work of Christians alone. The work belongs to all people of faith and good will. One such group is Interfaith Partners for Peace, an organization to which I belong, that brings together Jewish, Christian and Muslim leaders as partners for peace in local communities and on behalf of Israelis and Palestinians.

roy-middle-east-groupEarlier this month, I traveled to Israel and Palestine with 23 other pastors and rabbis from across the country who are partners in their local communities. Never have I experienced as much hope for the possibilities of repairing relationships as I did on this trip. I cried frequently in response to what we heard. My partner was Rabbi Greg Harris of Congregation Beth El, with whom I’ve shared mutual ministry for years. The goal of our visit was to listen and learn from Israelis and Palestinians – Jews, Christians and Muslims – as they share their multiple narratives that compete and collide. We especially were seeking examples of people who are building bridges that foster new narratives that allow for hope in the face of despair and paralysis.

It was an extraordinary experience that revealed stark despair, anger and fear countered in stunning ways by people of hope daring to take some risks. I must say, in all candor, no one we met in Israel or the West Bank is optimistic. Yet we met people who are hopeful in the face of the facts. This true hope that runs deeper than sentimental optimism is what gives them courage to do such bold things. It also challenges me to do the same across barriers that are much less daunting.

Here is one example.

Shaul Yudelman is a Jewish teacher and settler who experienced the fear and anger of his local communities as they bury their dead from suicide bombings. He has joined with his enemy, Ai Abu Awwad, a leading Palestinian activist and non-violent freedom fighter, to establish a center in the West Bank near a particularly violent checkpoint, where Palestinian and Israeli families share meals and their stories. They do programs attempting to build relationships with people who both belong to the land that is holy. Neither has abandoned their people’s narrative, but both are trying to build a new story; one of reconciliation between avowed enemies, of friendship and compassion.

I found it an astonishing example of God at work for good. As one Rabbi said, “Tonight I stood in front of a man who identified himself as a terrorist and I looked into his eyes and I acknowledged his humanity and he acknowledged mine and I wrapped my arms around him and I felt guilt. I will go back and preach that story and remind people that every human being is capable of redemption, becoming greater than what they are.”

They are under threat for doing such work. This is hope against all odds.

Jews call this work, tikkum olam, which means to repair the world. This kind of bridge building calls me to do the same.


roy_howard_04_webRoy Howard has served for 16 years as pastor of Saint Mark Presbyterian in North Bethesda Maryland. During that time his congregation has traveled to Israel-West Bank with their partner Jewish congregation and participates in regular interfaith activities. His recent book, Walking in Love, describes his 543 mile pilgrimage along the Camino de Santiago. 

Lessons From an Unfriend

Each month, we post a series of blogs around a common topic. This month, Don Meeks and Jeff Krehbiel are curating “Can We Talk?”, a modest attempt at an uncommonly gracious conversation among colleagues who differ on matters of conscience. Can we bridge the theological differences that divide us? Can we even talk about them? Can we affirm the best in each other’s theological tradition while honestly confessing the weaknesses of our own? We invite you to join the conversation on Facebook and Twitter!

by Joe Duffus

The surprise election of Donald Trump exposed a social media truth: people who are intimidated into silence, or who don’t feel safe sharing their politics, won’t. They avoid tipping their hand, lie to pollsters and harden their opinions in response.

Arguing politics or theology on Facebook is always fraught with risks. Who will see me at my political boiling point, judge me for opinions that might outrage them? Will speaking out threaten my job?

facebook_laptopWhat about my friendships online and off? I meet and befriend people on Facebook I may have met through work, school, church or some other shared interest, because they lived on my street or just that our children played together on a sports team. Friends may come into your life for “a reason, for a season or for a lifetime,” as the poem says.

Faced with these risks, many people avoid such topics and engagement on social media. They hold their tongue and scroll, scroll, scroll. Others may comment upon a friend’s post, but avoid posting something political themselves. Very dramatic people may preemptively command anyone who would dare disagree with them to “JUST UNFRIEND ME NOW!”

And when is Facebook finally going to offer that “sarcasm font” that everyone seems to want?

I have carried on lengthy political debates over Facebook with all sorts of friends. And I have felt the silent sting of having been “de-friended” by some friends who must have concluded I was a temporary friend “for a reason,” as the poem says,

“Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end… Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.”

It’s sad to lose a friend this way, but the poem gives us license to risk it if we feel strongly enough about our beliefs. As long as I have conducted myself with dignity and respect for those who won’t agree with my position, I willingly take that risk when I hit that “reply” link.

I am fortunate to have some friends I always disagree with about politics, or who don’t share my religious faith. Their differences from me always weigh in my mind when I discuss politics, whether online or off. But online it’s so much harder, because you can’t hear their tone and conviction. You won’t detect the quaver in their voice. Even a gifted writer cannot convey through plain text why a certain perspective clings to them, and in these discussions logical argument may only go so far before the knives come out.

What has served me well in vigorous debates over the Internet is restraint in words. I learned painfully that with or without its own font, sarcasm rarely works and is interpreted as cruelty. That’s tough for a native New Yorker to say, since sarcasm is just part of conversation there. I’ve learned that, at best, sarcasm can be sparingly used on ideas. But never at people.

In our political discussions these days, we tend to listen only long enough to form a reply, not long enough to understand. Humility through understanding is essential before engaging in political discussions: You’re unlikely to change any minds, but you may learn something useful from your adversary that will humble you to why they feel as they do. And “feel” is critical.

Writing this article, I reached out to an “unfriend” to ask why he dropped me. We had a nice chat. He’s still a friend, just not on Facebook. He told me I had gotten sarcastic in an exchange long ago and he simply decided that he didn’t wish to engage me or my posts any more. Neither of us could even remember what the discussion was, of course. We remain “unfriends” on Facebook still. It’s a mutual parting. He taught me to hold back, to focus on issues not people, and to know when to let others have the last word.

There are many supporters of Hillary Clinton this week who are despairing not only of the election, but of their fellow Americans “out there” who could have turned on them so viciously.

But my larger lesson from apologizing to my “unfriend” was that when I do engage online to remember the stakes are higher than politics or moral stances. What’s at stake is civility, forgiveness, forbearance and community spirit. What’s at the finish line, when we re-learn how to value those stakes, is reconciliation.


joe-duffus-headshotJoe is a digital news and communications professional and occasional blogger at Christian Post, writing about Presbyterian church matters. He shares his home in Gainesville, Virginia with his wife, two sons and a brown dog.

Faith and Public Policy Ministry Group as a Means of Reconciliation

Each month, we post a series of blogs around a common topic. This month, Don Meeks and Jeff Krehbiel are curating “Can We Talk?”, a modest attempt at an uncommonly gracious conversation among colleagues who differ on matters of conscience. Can we bridge the theological differences that divide us? Can we even talk about them? Can we affirm the best in each other’s theological tradition while honestly confessing the weaknesses of our own? We invite you to join the conversation on Facebook and Twitter!

by Emily Berman D’Andrea

Lewinsville Presbyterian Church is located just outside of Washington, DC in McLean, Virginia. Members are from Northern Virginia and work in all areas of government, while some work in the private sector and others for non profits. Most are immersed in the political hype and the political give and take of the Northern Virginia region. One unique aspect of the Lewinsville congregation is that it can not be pigeon-holed as leaning one way or another politically. When you think that you can label the congregation as left or right, you meet someone who defies the stereotype you have given it and you go back to the drawing board. When you think you have got the feel and flavor of the congregation figured out, you meet someone who then makes you question your thinking about lumping everyone together in the same political category. We’ve got folks who are interested in socially responsible investing and we’ve got folks who negotiate large defense contracts. We’ve got folks who are active in Republican party politics and we’ve got folks who work in the current Democratic administration as political appointees. We have Clinton supporters and we have Trump supporters.

lewinsville-presSome might say this mixture of members in one congregation just outside of Washington, DC, is a liability because you don’t know where the church stands on political issues. It can be labeled “wishy-washy” or “lukewarm” on political issues, and, so the reasoning goes, “it stands for nothing.” I think this mélange and mixture of political viewpoints under one PC(USA) roof is actually unique and invigorating – and I don’t think I’m alone in this thinking. Our congregation has set up structures in our church community in order to give voice to and positively accentuate the divergent opinions in the church community.

I’ll tell you about two structures we have set up that give voice to the divergent viewpoints at Lewinsville. First is the Lewinsville Forum. The Lewinsville Forum is an annual 6 week adult education class on current events co-led by a Republican who served in the Bush administration and a Democrat who served in the Clinton administration. The co-leaders decide which six issues they will take up and then they, in an up-front way, let class participants know their professional background and where they are coming from personally on the issue of the day. They lay out the issue and open it up for discussion. The question at the forefront of the class is: how does our faith impact this issue? Put another way, what does this have to do with our faith? In class there are 40 or so folks who gather for sometimes lively discussion on that day’s topic. More often than not, the discussion is civil and nuanced.

The second structure in place at Lewinsville that allows for divergent opinions in the congregation is the Faith and Public Policy Ministry Group. According to the Faith and Public Policy Ministry Group charter, this group was established at Lewinsville “to enable church members to engage public policy issues as faithful Christians and to provide a forum for open and respectful discourse about social justice and public policy matters.” The principles outlined in the charter for the group are: “discerning God’s divine command; grounding in Christian love; seeking balance and integrity; and building community by practicing community.” The charter states, “the group shall be co-led by two members who hold diverse political views that reflect a majority of the congregation’s political interests.”

Where else written into a group’s charter is it explicitly stated that the leaders must hold differing political views? I think this is how the kingdom of God works. I think reconciliation happens when people with differing political viewpoints can sit in an adult education class and feel safe saying their viewpoint without fear of vilification and ridicule. I think reconciliation happens when people with different political viewpoints can worship in a space they believe is sacred. I believe reconciliation happens when people can look across the sanctuary aisle at someone who sits across the aisle in the House of Representatives or Senate, and embrace them during the passing of the peace. I believe this is the beginning of reconciliation.


dandrea-emily-180x180Emily Berman D’Andrea serves as the Associate Pastor for Christian Formation at Lewinsville Presbyterian Church in McLean, VA where for fourteen years she has worked with the church’s small group ministry, Stephen Ministers, mission programs and contemplative ministries. She enjoys reading novels, playing tennis, watching her children play soccer and black licorice.