Author: MASadmin

So, I’m not sure what to make of this.

That’s the long way around to the question I want to pose: How much has contraception contributed to the emasculation of men and to men’s shrinking roles as provider and protector?
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Men in this day and age are rarely encouraged to procreate freely; they are asked to step up to the plate a couple of times and then are sort of put out to pasture, for lack of a better term. Their role as father is never fully realized (nor is that of the mother but that is another discussion) – it is always held in check, restrained and controlled and eventually severed, whether surgically or otherwise. Have women been emboldened, and deep inside do they look down upon men, who allow this manipulation of their progeny? And have men in turn been weakened – and have they become intimidated by the huge but beautiful responsibility of providing for a family – due to the false sense of control contraception gives, and with it the temptation to avoid heavy family and financial burdens?
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From this total control of reproduction comes an inflated sense on the part of the parents of their role as the sole creators of life. This is, no matter how sweet the family, a form of arrogance, at the bottom of which is a lack of understanding that they are called to be not the sole creators of life, but co-creators with our Creator himself, a very humbling acknowledgement indeed.

And the followup comment is just as juicy.

Mary’s observations are quite penetrating. They put forward in a formal way something I have often observed casually over the years. Men who are fathers of several children, especially those who have been openly living the Church’s teaching against contraception, gain a confidence and ease in their masculinity that does not seem equaled by others. These men seem aware of their power. This leads to a confidence in, especially, how they relate to their families and how they discipline their children. Of course this is a generalization, but it would only stand to reason. A man who has not denied his masculine procreative power is a man whose virility is evident to the world.

A man who has not denied his masculine procreative power is a man whose virility is evident to the world.

Indeed.

Where do I even begin?

So this is the second draft of the blog entry I was planning to write. I spewed around 2000 words and realized that it was getting too long. There are so many underlying assumptions, social and theological, in this little nugget of joy, that an argument can easily develop into an attack on ALL THE THINGS. But I don’t have time to attack ALL THE THINGS. Instead, I will focus on one.

As a Lutheran Christian, my lens is, well, biased in a certain way. I am fine with that. In fact, I am more than fine with that. The Lutheran lens is freakin’ fantastic and I think that EVERYONE IN THE WORLD should be in on it. I know that is a false wish and hope but I just find it so wonderful – I can’t help but share it with everyone.

Part of that lens, then, is to take the Jesus event very seriously. The lens, in a sense, requires that Jesus not be made unnecessary. And that thread runs deep in every aspect of Lutheran thinking and thought. That is also the driving force behind the piece of Luther’s thought that I repeat all.the.time: we are called to be little Christs to one another. That is our job; our vocation. If you’re baptized, that’s a big part of your job description as a Christian – be a little Christ to those around you – to everyone around you – no matter who they are. Of course, as a sinner, this is ridiculously hard to do and hard to get right all the time. But, with the help of the Holy Spirit, the love of God and Christ, and through our gathered communities and the wonderful gift that is faith, we pray that God will turn us into these little Christ’s. We sometimes need help getting there – and sometimes just having the thought that we are supposed to be little Christ’s is the Holy Spirit’s way of challenging and changing us. So, in big, bold, letters: little Christs. That’s our job.

The wild thing about that calling is that it does not rely on a gendered form of vocation and identity. The arguments detailed about manliness, contraception, feminism, etc, etc, are not God-given boundaries on vocation. Rather, the call to be a little Christ – to be a free gift to those around you – to truly engage with, know, and love those around you – is a vocation that all, no matter sex or gender, are required to do. Vocation is not restricted to biology or cultural norms. Vocation starts with, and through, Jesus. God is not limited by our limitations.

Does that mean that culture, society, government, and other such things do not matter? Of course not. We all have very many different kinds of vocations – vocations that help us earn money to live – and other vocations (parenthood, being a student, being a kid) that are parts of our identity. Those vocations might change and they can be culturally and socially defined. That’s okay. But, from the very start, through our baptism, we are called to be little Christs. We’re not called to be little men or little women at the expense of being little Christs. We’re not called to mistake social order as the limit of God’s imagination and the limit to our calling. We’re called to LOVE first – and this calling underpins all other callings. Although the blog entry above does not start there, overtly, it sounds like it does to me. It sounds like it begins with biology, with creation, and then moves to faith and spirituality. But that’s not where my lens begins.

This doesn’t mean that I think the conversation about gender identity are meaningless. I think that it’s an important one to have. But the question of manhood is not a question of worth. An argument that tries to combine Christian calling, vocation, and identity with an argument of social norms in relation to contraception won’t work. An argument about contraception is fine. An argument about gender identity is fine. An argument about Christian identity, vocation, and how that interacts with gender identity and contraception is fantastic. These are conversations we need to have. But to claim that contraception limits maleness or virility, through a claim of the “Church” is just downright silly. By that argument, Jesus, as fully human and fully God, who walked among the world, who interacted with men and women, slaves and free, rich and poor – who’s martial status was never defined, who’s parenthood is never stated but who has historically be seen as single (and loving it), would, in the guise of this conversation, not be virile. He would be sub-man and, thus, sub-human. And that’s just silly. The reconciler of the world, the ultimate provider, the ultimate protector, the head of the church, the savior of the world…. actually, you’re totally right. There is nothing “manly” about that guy – at least how “manliness” is defined above.

So, looks like you can get a doctorate in Ministry to Emerging Generations now.

Jesus commands his followers to “go and make disciples of all nations.” Fulfilling the Great Commission in a rapidly changing, post-Christian world requires the church to think seriously about responding to the unique “nation” and culture of young people living in our midst. We need also to develop effective paradigms for understanding and reaching cultures of future emerging generations. In fact, the label “Emerging generations” is no longer limited to just teenagers. In addition, “adolescence” is no longer limited to those whose chronological age places them in their middle and high school years. Our growing understanding of early, middle, and extended adolescence has expanded the boundaries on both ends, resulting in a world where youth culture is shaping individuals in the emerging generations from birth through young adulthood.

This track will help those ministering to the emerging generations – youth pastors, children’s ministers, college/young adult ministers, and pastors – to work through the practical implications of living obediently to the Great Commission of Jesus Christ in today’s rapidly changing cultural context (including the changes yet to come). Members of the cohort will be equipped to embrace the task of “dual listening” as defined by John Stott: “We stand between the Word and the world with consequent obligation to listen to both. We listen to the Word to discover even more of the riches of Christ. We listen to the world in order to discern which of Christ’s riches are needed most and how to present them in their best light.” (The Contemporary Christian)

What the what?

I mean, I get it. I get why a seminary would create this program. It seems relevant. I’m sure there are a lot of pastors out there who want the kids to get off their lawns; I’ve met a few of them. And there’s been plenty of pop-theology/pop-psychology/pop-whatever books written on the subject – enough so that critical mass has been reached and stuff like this is going to explode all over the place. They’ll read a few books by Rob Bell, visit an “emerging” church that’s not self-sufficient but seems “hip”, write a paper, start a Twitter account, pat themselves on the back, and call it a day. They’ll get a degree to hang on the wall and some more college debt hanging around their necks, the seminary will get some extra tuition, and everyone wins.

Well, actually, nobody does.

There’s just so much silly inherent in this, I don’t know where to start. First off, this is just a screams out-of-touch-old-person talking to kids, in a program that won’t work. Secondly, post-Christian/changing cultural contexts sets off red flags for me. It assumes that there was some cultural context that was “Christian” and that we are, today, moving beyond that. It’s a silly reading of history because it ignores, well, basic reality, that cultural contexts of the past have been romanticized in this country and that those of us who do not fit those cultural contexts are, somehow, just brand new (like my brown skin is some kind of unexplained, and new, birth defect). It also ignores basic facts like, how, the percentage of foreign-born people in the US is finally returning to historical averages – and that the last fifty years, with it’s super low number, was the exception, not the norm. It also makes the assumption that the celebrated “nones” of today are any different from the thousands of years of C-and-E Christians that the church has experienced. The difference is that they don’t mind calling themselves “nones” now – a willingness that is important to acknowledge but doesn’t change the fact that the church has been dealing with this stuff since forever. And the simple fact is that none of this stuff came out of a vacuum. The “reality” of today comes from somewhere. If you want to blame someone, blame thirty years ago. The seeds of our reality was already there – even if you try to romanticize it away.

And this will not actually make a difference to anyone in the “emerging” generation. I’m willing to speak for all of us, right now. I’m willing to make generalizations, right now. I’m willing to stand up on the mic and say, with a loud voice, that this nonsense won’t work. And it won’t work because it says a lot of nothing. By labeling the “emerging generations” as “the nations,” you’ve already defined them as the outsiders. By poorly mixing discipleship with the Word, and ignoring the BAPTIZING part of the Great Commission, you’ve automatically assumed that these emerging generations do not belong with the “true path.” They are on the outside and this program is designed to, somehow, bring them inside, and make them part of the righteous. It masks faith with culture under the pretex of being open and new. This is silliness. We’ve just gone through Christmas, worked our way through Epiphany, and we’re about to see Jesus turn water into wine. If anyone has been paying attention to the lectionary, they’ll notice that there isn’t a lot of “bringing into the fold” that is being done in these stories. Rather, God seems to be breaking into the social contexts that we’ve created. And this is important – because if all social contexts are open to be broken, then all are objectively on the same level. Faith ends up being open to everyone, even those in the “emerging generations.” And I don’t see the Magi, or the shepherds, or the party goers being told to change their cultural or generation status at the door.

It was a little before 11 am on Thursday when my supervisor called our church administrator and, like the way of all flesh, I was drafted for a task that my life experiences, in theory, have provided me with the right tools. That evening, I would take the church’s projector and be the techy for that evening’s speech by Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber, THE Sarcastic Lutheran, and head pastor/founder of House for All Sinners and Saints in Denver, Colorado. I was excited. I’ve been hearing about her ever since I started my seminary track and I wanted to see her in the flesh.

So, I did. And I enjoyed it.

The talk was part of a Project Connect retreat called “Listen! God is calling!” A handful of young adults thinking about church leadership were in attendance. Even though it wasn’t well advertised by our synod, the audience included that handful, and roughly fifty seminary students, pastors, high school students, and me. And, like all good church congregations, I sat by myself in the second row. But that was a-ok with me. I wanted to not be distracted by the hair of anyone in front of me.

I was hoping that Rev. Nadia would tell her story – and she did. She did a great job with “I” statements – this was her story, not “our” story. It was a story of her journey, her church, her experience of the law and gospel. I swore I heard a little Dr. Wengert in her when she kept saying that she’s willing to be thrown infront of the bus of law – and just how awesome Lutheran theology, and God’s grace, is. I’m glad she mentioned that because I’m with her on that one. We, as a church, need to do a better job at tooting our own horn. The Lutheran perspective is awesome. More than awesome, really. And it should be shouted from the freakin’ rooftops.

But scattered throughout her talk, panel response, and Q&A, were tidbits of data and theories that I wrote down. The fact that her church is only 4.5 years is important to note – and that they’re hoping to be self-funding in 18 months. The idea of shared leadership in the liturgy, democratizing the space, and a pro-participation model towards liturgy has helped her church. Her church is a place that can hold pain and, yet, express and experience carnival within the gathering. And her church is rooted in a model of authority where authority is shared and given. I don’t think this would work in all churches but it was neat to see how it worked in her community. I also thought it was neat that she shared her experience that, as a church planter, how she goes, the church goes. If she’s anxious, the church is anxious. If she’s great, the church is great. And it tied into something she’s been talking with her intern about – the notion of holding “space” for the congregation.

This is something I experienced when I presided for the first time. And, really, it is different than preaching, surprisingly. By being the focal point of the congregation, I, in many ways, found myself holding their space. I held whatever they brought to church that day: their certainties, their love, joys, pains, sufferings, doubts – and even their distractions as they checked their email on their iPhones in the middle of the sermon. And I’m sure since I actually believe that the ritual I’m participating in is worth something, that the breaking of bread, the singing of songs, the hearing of scripture, and the fellowship with one another – we are not only being the church but we are having faith, and gospel, done at us – I felt a spiritual, physical, and emotional weight just holding all that energy in that place. And I think it’s different being an intern and holding that space and being a called pastor. A called pastor is put into that place by the congregation. The congregation is giving that pastor that authority and responsibility to hold that space. For an intern, like me, I’m not called by the congregation to be in that space. I’m given the opportunity to learn and experiment with what it means to hold that space. As much as I enjoyed it, I was a partial interloper to that experience. It was a temporary jump into that space – a jump with a time limit. It’s possible, and I have no evidence to back this up, that ordination by the church – an external call and the giving of the stole – actually helps shore up the individual to hold that space that they are called to hold. Without that external call, that external promise through the church, and without the help of God, this holding of space…well..the weight of it all, week after week, would just plain be unbearable.

I’m glad I saw her and I’m glad she’s part of the church. I’m glad for all the work she’s done. And I’m glad that not only does she turn off certain aspects of the church (she’s punk rock, what what), I’m glad that she, at least, proclaims a story that is big enough to not be limited to who she is. In the ELCA, she has a lot of hype. Her church is big news. Her church is sexy. She, herself, is exotic, in the not-your-typical-Lutheran, way. But her story isn’t the only story – even if our current church promotion seems to act like her story, and other churches like hers, are the wave of the future/the only way the ELCA will survive/death to all who are not similar, etc etc. I hope everyone in the audience took to heart her story as an example of how our stories can actually breathe life into the capital C Church. Because if we’re unwilling to share our stories, why should we expect anyone to actually listen to the Story?