Jason Micheli's Blog, page 43
May 11, 2024
My Guncle and Me
Tamed Cynic is a reader-supported publication. If you appreciate the work, pay it forward by becoming paid subscriber!
Here is a recent conversation with Jonathan Merritt about his new children’s book, My Guncle and Me.
Find the book here.
Jonathan is an award-winning columnist and commentator on politics, spirituality, and culture. He is the contributing editor for The Week and has been featured on prominent national outlets including The New York Times, USA Today, The Washington Post, The Atlantic, and CNN. Jonathan has authored four critically-acclaimed books and has also served as a ghostwriter on dozens of others, many of which became New York Times bestsellers. Jonathan is a proud biological Guncle to five little ones in Georgia and a proud adoptive Guncle to ten nephews and nieces in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan, where he resides.
My Guncle and Me (May 14, 2024, Running Press Kids), is a celebration of individuality and inclusivity that reminds young readers that they are unique, seen and celebrated for who they are. Henry Higgleston struggles with being deemed an oddball by other kids at school. When his fabulous gay uncle arrives for a weekend with his French bulldog, Jimmy Chew, in tow, Guncle is on a mission to teach Henry that it’s what makes us different that actually makes us special.
Illustrated by Joanna Carillo and endorsed by New York Times bestselling authors Kate Bowler, Shauna Niequist, and Marianne Williamson, My Guncle and Me, is a joyful story of self-acceptance and self-love that will resonate with anyone who has ever felt different.
Get more from Jason Micheli in the Substack appAvailable for iOS and AndroidGet the app
May 10, 2024
Q: What do we mean that God is love?
If you don’t think Bill has lost his mind, join him and become a paid subscriber!
Thinking about the intersections and dissonances between popular religion, classical theism, and biblical dogma, I decided to revisit and finally finish a catechism I began writing a decade ago. Thanks to a long vacation called cancer I never completed it. My plan is to rework what I had written, as God has made me otherwise than who I was back then, and to write new entries for the questions that I left unaddressed.
There is a long tradition in the historic church, especially in the Reformation, of distilling the faith down into concise questions and answers with brief supporting scriptures. As Luther intended his own Small Catechism, the Q/A's of a catechism are, really, the pretense for a longer dialogue, in Luther’s case a conversation between parents and their children. Given the post-Christian world in which we will live, I think it's important to outline the faith such that people can see— and learn— the philosophical foundation beneath it. It's important for people, in and out of the faith, to see that ours is a faith which isn't afraid of doubt even as it takes the reasons for doubt with moral seriousness. Ours is a faith that has ancient answers for modern questions, a faith that will always rely upon God's self-revelation but it is not irrational for all truth is God's truth. In other words, ours is a faith with the resources to tame the cynicism of a post-Christian culture.
You can see my last entries:
Tamed CynicQ: Doesn’t the doctrine of predestination raise questions about God’s goodness? Tamed Cynic is a reader-supported publication. If you appreciate the work, pay it forward by becoming a paid subscriber! Thinking about the intersections and dissonances between popular religion, classical theism, and biblical dogma, I decided to revisit and finally finish a catechism I began writing a decade ago. Thanks to a long vacation called cancer I never completed it. My plan is to rework what I had written, as God has made me otherwise than who I was back then, and to write new entries for the questions that I left unaddressed…Read more2 days ago · 3 likes · 1 comment · Jason Micheli22. What do we mean that God is Love?
May 9, 2024
Preaching as Protest against the Apophatic Silencing of God’s People
Tamed Cynic is a reader-supported publication. If you appreciate the work, pay it forward— become a paid subscriber!
Hi Friends,
Here is a recent conversation with my mentor and muse, Will Willimon, about his new academic article on preaching. Will wants folks, preachers especially, to read the essay so be sure you scroll down past the show notes to download it for free.
Speaking of preaching, don’t forget to apply for the Iowa Preachers Project, led (in part) by yours truly: https://www.iapreachers.org
Show NotesSummaryIn this conversation, Bishop Will Willimon discusses the recent changes in the United Methodist Church's general conference and the challenges the church is facing. He emphasizes the need for honest discussions about the future of the church and the impact of the changes on its membership and finances. Willimon also explores the concept of apophatic theology and its implications for preaching. He argues that while there is value in silence and contemplation, it is important to recognize the role of proclamation and listening in the Christian faith.
Overall, the conversation highlights the need for a theological understanding of the church's challenges and the importance of receiving the truth about God through revelation. The conversation explores the role of silence in spirituality and the limitations of silence as a means of encountering God. It discusses the danger of detaching silence from embodiment and the sacramental nature of God's communication. The importance of proclamation and the power of words in conveying the depth and mystery of God are emphasized. The conversation also touches on the responsibility and joy of being a preacher and the need to speak in times of silence and injustice.
Takeaways
The United Methodist Church has undergone significant changes in its general conference, including the removal of restrictive language and regionalization.
The church is facing challenges such as a decline in membership and finances, as well as an aging population.
Apophatic theology emphasizes the limitations of human knowledge and the need for humility in speaking about God.
Preaching is an act of receiving and proclaiming the truth about God, which requires a theological understanding and engagement with scripture.
Silence and contemplation have value, but they should not overshadow the importance of proclamation and listening in the Christian faith. Silence should not be detached from embodiment and the sacramental nature of God's communication.
Proclamation and words are important in conveying the depth and mystery of God.
Preachers have a responsibility and joy in speaking the word of the Lord.
Silence can be a weapon to keep victims of injustice silent.
In times of silence and difficulty, turning to scripture and the words of prophets can provide guidance and comfort.
Sound Bites
"If I need to take the screen off, take the glasses off to see that it's wonderful."
"How does it make you feel that, say, you and me are now on the conservative end of the United Methodist Church?"
"Preaching as protest against the apophatic silencing of God's people."
"It sunders Sabbath from worship."
"You want to get closer to God, get out."
"Silence is a cop out in the mind of the voice."
Manuscript217KB ∙ PDF fileDownloadDownloadGet more from Jason Micheli in the Substack appAvailable for iOS and AndroidGet the app
May 8, 2024
Q: Doesn’t the doctrine of predestination raise questions about God’s goodness?
Tamed Cynic is a reader-supported publication. If you appreciate the work, pay it forward by becoming a paid subscriber!
Thinking about the intersections and dissonances between popular religion, classical theism, and biblical dogma, I decided to revisit and finally finish a catechism I began writing a decade ago. Thanks to a long vacation called cancer I never completed it. My plan is to rework what I had written, as God has made me otherwise than who I was back then, and to write new entries for the questions that I left unaddressed.
There is a long tradition in the historic church, especially in the Reformation, of distilling the faith down into concise questions and answers with brief supporting scriptures. As Luther intended his own Small Catechism, the Q/A's of a catechism are, really, the pretense for a longer dialogue, in Luther’s case a conversation between parents and their children. Given the post-Christian world in which we will live, I think it's important to outline the faith such that people can see— and learn— the philosophical foundation beneath it. It's important for people, in and out of the faith, to see that ours is a faith which isn't afraid of doubt even as it takes the reasons for doubt with moral seriousness. Ours is a faith that has ancient answers for modern questions, a faith that will always rely upon God's self-revelation but it is not irrational for all truth is God's truth. In other words, ours is a faith with the resources to tame the cynicism of a post-Christian culture.
You can see my last entry:
Tamed CynicQ: Does the One-Way Love of God Necessarily Entail Predestination? A: Sorry, yesTamed Cynic is a reader-supported publication. If you appreciate the work, pay it forward by becoming a paid subscriber! Thinking about the intersections and dissonances between popular religion, classical theism, and biblical dogma, I decided to revisit and finally finish a catechism I began writing a decade ago. Thanks to a long vacation called cancer I never completed it. My plan is to rework what I had written, as God has made me otherwise than who I was back then, and to write new entries for the questions that I left unaddressed…Read more8 days ago · 2 likes · 1 comment · Jason Micheli20. Doesn’t the doctrine of predestination raise questions about God’s goodness?Yes.
Within any theology enlivened by the Reformation, a doctrine of predestination is merely the article of justification rendered in the active voice, with respect to God.
Faith clings to the God who promises to save sinners apart from human earning or deserving. Therefore, predestination is a Christocentric doctrine; that is, whatever the triune God might have planned or is yet planning for the destiny of his creatures, those plans are already disclosed fully in the glad tidings of the gospel. What the Lord predestines for his creatures, then, is Jesus Christ. The certainty of salvation, which the doctrine of predestination has always intended to reckon to anxious consciences, is found neither in human works nor in singular signs but in faith that the Lord of the covenant keeps his promises.
If we are to speak of God at all, we thereby speak of some sort of predestination.Indeed when we speak to God in prayer, petitioning the Lord to act on our behalf, we do nothing less than acknowledge that nothing happens outside the will of God.
May 7, 2024
Adventures in Barth: The Barmen Declaration
Tamed Cynic is a reader-supported publication. If you appreciate the work, pay it forward by becoming a paid subscriber!
Here is the recording for our first session of Adventures in Barth: The Barmen Declaration, in which we discussed Karl Barth’s first thesis, repudiating the accommodation of the German Protestant Church to populist fervor in the 1930’s.
Thesis 1:
1. “I am the Way and the Truth and the Life; no one comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6
“Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold through the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved.” John 10:1,9
Jesus Christ, as he is attested to us in Holy Scripture, is the one Word of God whom we have to hear, and whom we have to trust and obey in life and in death.
We reject the false doctrine that the Church could and should recognize as a source of its proclamation, beyond and besides this one Word of God, yet other events, powers, historic figures and truths as God’s revelation.
Get more from Jason Micheli in the Substack appAvailable for iOS and AndroidGet the app
May 6, 2024
Where was the Risen Jesus In Between His Easter Appearances?
Tamed Cynic is a reader-supported publication. If you appreciate the work, pay it forward by becoming a paid subscriber!
Eastertide closes this week with the Risen Lord’s ascension. The lectionary assigns Luke’s account in Acts 1 for the feast day:
In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught from the beginning until the day when he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. After his suffering he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God. While staying with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait there for the promise of the Father. "This," he said, "is what you have heard from me; for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now." So when they had come together, they asked him, "Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?" He replied, "It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth."
When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven."
Perhaps no other event on the liturgical calendar challenges what we know of the world more so than Ascension.
How are we to speak intelligibly of such an event, knowing, as we do, that heaven is not “up there?”I know not how Jesus departed, but I do know that he did not go up, up, up, and away.In some ways, Christ’s ascension is an item of dogma on the slimmest of basis. Only Luke mentions it and he does so twice. Read in isolation, Luke’s account of the ascension could create the impression that Jesus has spent the last forty days since his resurrection on terra firma but this is straightforwardly not the case. Luke tells us that on the third day after his crucifixion, the Risen Jesus encountered two disciples who were on their way home in Emmaus. Strangely, Cleopas and the other unnamed disciple do not recognize their traveling companion until “he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him…” Coincident with the instant of their recognition, Luke reports, the Risen Christ “vanished from their sight.”
Luke does not say, “Jesus walked off into the distance.”No, it’s, “He vanished from their sight.”Later that night, the disciples are hiding behind locked doors when at once the risen Jesus is standing among them. Jesus does not knock on the door. Jesus does not step through the door. Jesus is simply and suddenly standing amongst them.
Whence did he come?If the risen Jesus ascends forty days after Easter, then where was he in between his appearances and how does that influence our understanding of the ascension?
The Gospels make it clear. Between his Easter appearances, the Risen body of Jesus had no location in this world. The Risen Jesus did not rent a room at the Super 8 in Jerusalem. He was not glamping in Galilee. He did not couch-surf in Samaria.
He appeared. And then he vanished from their sight.
Whatever else the ascension means, therefore, it does not signal a change in Jesus’s spatial location.The risen Jesus was not exclusively located on earth during the forty days after his resurrection just as the ascended Jesus is assuredly not now located “up there.” Where was the risen Jesus in between his Easter appearances? Where is he now if the ascension does not narrate his journey from one place in the cosmos to another place in the cosmos?
May 5, 2024
From You to Us
Tamed Cynic is a reader-supported publication. If you appreciate the work, pay it forward by becoming a paid subscriber.
Colossians 2.1-15
Almost eight years ago, not long after the inauguration, as thousands of outraged people gathered at airports across the country to protest the new administration’s so-called Muslim ban, I observed online Christian influencers, one after the other, post exhortations on social media such as, “If your pastor isn’t preaching on immigration this Sunday, then you need to find a new church. If your church isn’t speaking out against the Muslim ban this Sunday, you need to find a new church. If your preaching isn’t preaching with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other hand, then you need to find a new church.”
The goading went viral.
The exhortations accused me every time I opened an app.
Nevertheless, I did not mention the matter that Sunday. I wanted to do so—I had and I have my own convictions. But I did not bring up politics in the pulpit because I simply did not know how to connect the contemporary issue to the day’s biblical passage, the Gospel of John, chapter eight— the woman caught in adultery. I did not see a clear connection between the headlines and the scripture, and as a preacher I had to trust that, even with the world swirling in turmoil and chaos, there was something more important going on in God’s word.
So I stuck to the text.
You know the story, how Jesus practically begs the Pharisees to stone him when he says to the sinful woman, “Neither do I condemn you.”
“I just do what I see the Father doing,” Jesus says.
After the service, I was standing in the narthex when a man a bit older than me took my hand to shake it but then he didn’t let go. He wore a blue blazer and faded jeans and the red stood out on his otherwise fair cheeks. His eyes were wet and righteously angry.
He whispered but his rage was deafening.
“I’m the husband of a woman caught in adultery. I’m the husband of the woman in that story. Where’s my sermon? Do you have any idea how angry your sermon makes me? After everything I put up with— the humiliation, the shame, the learning that what I thought was my life was actually a facade, a fantasy! And then I come here looking for a little hope and peace and you’ve got the nerve (he didn’t say nerve) to tell me that God is gracious?! To her?!”
He was still holding my hand in a clammy, irate grip.
He pulled me towards him, “What do you have to say about that?”
I stammered, “I guess I should’ve preached on the Muslim ban.”
“What?” he replied, looking confused and enraged.
“I meant,” I explained, “I’m grateful that I stuck to the text today. It sounds like Jesus Christ did some work on you this morning.”
He dropped my hand, suddenly, like it was a poopy shoe.
“That’s all you have to say to me?!”
He was no longer whispering.
“Well?” he challenged, putting his hands on his hips.
I nodded, took a deep breath, and looked him square in the face.
“I’ve heard your confession,” I started to say.
“Confession?! I’ve not confessed anything.”
“Sure you have,” I said, “You just been confessing to me all about your anger and your hate and your un-forgiveness for your wife.”
In an instant, his face went from red to white, like he was the one who had been caught in the act.
“Where was I— I’ve heard your confession, and in the name of Christ Jesus our Lord and by his authority alone, I absolve you of all your sins.”
His jaw fell open.
“Oh my God,” he stuttered, “I had no idea that was exactly what I needed to hear.”
And then he started to weep. His knees buckled. And rather than fall over, he toppled into an embrace of me. It’s hard, I suppose, for the dead to walk after they’ve just been raised to new life.
“And you, being dead through your trespasses…you he made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our sins, having blotted out the bond written in ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to us. And he has taken it out of the way, nailing it to the cross.”
In 1968, during the recovery efforts after the Six-Day War, Israeli construction workers discovered the remains of a crucified man from the time of Jesus at Giv' at ha-Mivtar, in northeast Jerusalem. The victim's ankles appear to have been penetrated from the side by nails. Between the head of the nail and the right anklebone are remnants of a piece of wood that may have been used to extend the head of the nail. The feet seem to have been hacked off after the body's removal from the cross. The two shin bones and left calf bone are broken. Finally, the victim's underarms appear to have been bound to the cross since there is no trace of damage to hands or wrists.
These remains are the sole evidence in all of antiquity of a crucified man.
After their slow, languishing death, Rome left the naked bodies of the crucified upon their crosses for carrion to pick them apart into oblivion. The entire point of crucifixion was not the pain it induced but the shame and degradation it inflicted. The manner of death was meant to render its victim a non-person, to blot them out of history permanently. Rome was so successful that crucifixion's only remains remain that body unearthed by Israeli laborers.
How odd of God then that in Jesus Christ, the Lord uses the same means to blot out the writ against us.
Notice how from verse thirteen to verse fourteen Paul shifts from the second person plural to the first person plural, from you (i.e., the Colossians) to us (i.e., everybody). In other words, every distinction between you and me collapses at the foot of the cross:
“When you were dead in your sins…God made you alive with Christ— He forgave us all our sins. God has blotted out the writ that was against us, He has taken it out of the way for us, nailed it to His cross.”
The Greek word translated variously as writ or handwriting of ordinances is cheirographon and it means, simply, a note of debt. It’s a rare word in the New Testament, but you know it from the prayer Jesus commands us always to pray, “Forgive us our cheirographon as we forgive the debts of others.”
A cheirographon is an IOU.
Thus, “God has blotted out the IOU that stood against us, he has removed it, nailing it to his cross.”Now, importantly, because the writ against us is an IOU, the writ is not the law. An IOU is signed by the debtor not by the one to whom the debt is owed, and the law bears not our signature but the Lord’s. Therefore, we stand accused not by the Jewish law but by a more foundational, universal IOU that makes intelligible Paul’s transition from you to us.
The debt of Adam.
The sin of Adam.
Just so, what Paul says here to the Colossians is no different than what Paul proclaims to the church at Rome:
Contrary to much of the deconstruction of the gospel in progressive circles, Jesus is not the tragic, passive victim of Empire and Religion colluding against him.“As one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man’s act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all. For as by the one man's disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man's obedience the many are made righteous.”
According to Colossians, what is nailed to the cross is the IOU owed by us all. As Martin Luther says, Christ bears our actual sins in his body on the tree.
What is nailed to the cross is the writ against us.
And it’s the Father and the Son with their Spirit— not Pontius Pilate— it’s God who nails it there.
Christ just is the cheirographon.
In Pilate’s attempt to blot out Mary’s boy by means of a cross, the triune God in fact blots out all our sins; such that, I can hand over a promise only God can promise.You are forgiven.
When he was a novice preacher at a parish in Safenwil, Switzerland, Karl Barth, the future theologian, subjected his congregation to sermons on the sinking of the Titantic and, later, on the issue above the fold of every newspaper, the Great War. Looking back on and confessing his early homiletical mishaps, Barth recalled a woman from his church who grabbed him one Sunday by the lapels and begged him, “Please preach on something else other than this dreadful war.”
Not yet understanding how unfaithful he had been at his task, the pastor asked his parishioner what she thought he should preach.
She responded at first by staring at him, astonished he should not appreciate the urgency of the summons laid upon him.
“What shall you preach? The gospel of course— the promise of grace, the word of the cross, the forgiveness of sins. There is no dearth of bad news in the world. You cannot afford to neglect the good news.”
“He forgave us all our sins, blotting out the handwriting of ordinances that was against us, taking it out of the way and nailing it to his cross.”
The reason Paul writes this epistle to the Colossians is to caution them against falling captive to “the elemental spirits.” The elemental spirits lie behind what Paul calls “hollow and deceptive philosophy.” As N.T. Wright comments on this passage, the elemental spirits refer specifically to “the tutelary gods who preside over pagan nations and ethnic tribes.” That is, the elemental spirits represent the melding of God with Country, Religion with Race and Identity— a kind of first century ethnocentric Christian nationalism. Evidently it was as dangerous then as it is now, for it is the occasion that Paul writes this letter to the church.
If your apostle isn’t preaching about Christian nationalism this Sunday, then you need to find yourself another church.
“Surely, you have a word about this for us,” the apprentice Epaphras appeals to his mentor.
And so Paul prays and writes and delivers to them a message.
But notice—The problem in the world that demands a word from the Lord, the issue tearing at the seam of the church’s unity, the trouble tempting believers away from their brothers and sisters in Christ, Paul speaks to it in a single sentence only.Verse 8:
“See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and hollow deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ.”
The lure of the elemental spirits is the very problem that prompts Paul to write this letter in the first place, but then Paul gives it no more of his attention than a solitary verse before he resumes proclaiming the promise.
To the issue in the world about which the church must say a word, Paul devotes one sentence.
To the gospel without which the church has no word at all for the world, Paul piles up an overwhelming number of verbs at the end of this passage— eight verbs in three verses, with God the subject of them all.
Make alive.Forgive.Blot out.Take away.Nail.Disarm.Put to shame.Triumph.As if to say—
About a great many things, the church can say any number of things. But one thing the church must always say: “He forgave us all our sins, blotting out the handwriting that was against us, taking it out of the way and nailing it to his cross.”
Of all the things we can say, that’s the only word that can kill and make alive.
Nearly four years ago, Officer Derek Chauvin murdered George Floyd in cold blood in Minneapolis. For nine minutes, Floyd pleaded, “I can’t breath.” Until finally he couldn’t and his breath became air. With protests flooding the streets and cities starting to burn, the online influences threw down the gauntlet once again, “If your pastor isn’t preaching about George Floyd this Sunday, then you need to find another church. If your church isn’t speaking out against racism this Sunday, you need to find a new church.” Some of you took me to task for not preaching about it the following Sunday. And maybe you were correct to do so.
I had prerecorded the sermon and I was out of town, visiting my niece, but if I’d wanted to do so I could have scrapped the sermon and responded to the moment. At that point in the pandemic, we were good at the technology. Instead I stuck to the text. Even with the world afire with righteous anger, I took it as an item of faith that something more important would be going on with God’s word.
The passage was a different epistle, Paul’s non sequitur in his letter to the Corinthians, “One has died for all; therefore, all have died.” It’s a non sequitur. It doesn’t logically follow that because one man died, all have died. The conclusion does not naturally follow the premise because it’s unnatural. It is revelation.
The one man who died for all is God.
Therefore, all have died to sin.
“You’re home free,” I preached, “You’re safe in Christ and him crucified.”Later that afternoon, I received a phone call as I drove home from Cleveland. “Are you the pastor— the one who preached that sermon I stumbled across on Facebook?”
“I am,” I mumbled, wondering what this stranger was about to say with my mother sitting next to me in the passenger seat.
“I need to meet with you, in-person, right away,” she said.
I offered her the following morning.
“I think you might just be the person to blame me.”
“Blame you?” I started to say, but she had already hung up.
The next morning I invited her to sit on the sofa in my office. She ripped off her mask and collapsed on the couch like a suitcase thrown onto a motel bed.
“Everyone, for years, has told me that it’s not my fault— my therapist, my doctor, my son’s doctor, my friends.”
“What’s not your fault?”
“My son has special needs,” she answered.
And quickly I interrupted her, “I think I’m with your therapist on this one.”
She held up her hand to silence me.
“Listen!”
She said it so loudly I had no choice but to obey.
“When I was pregnant, I drank. Not all the time. Not every day. But not once. Or twice either.”
She looked at me to see if I understood.
“I did that,” she said with all the matter-of-factness she could muster, “And everyone wants to tell me that it’s not my fault.”
I nodded.
“I saw your sermon and I thought you might be someone who had something different to say to me.”
“It’s my fault,” she said.
“Yes,” I said, “Or, quite possibly.”
She closed her eyes like she’d been in the desert and had finally found water.
When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see me standing in front of her. I made the sign of the cross over her and I said to her, “For this sin and for all your other ones, I absolve you in the name of Jesus Christ.”
She dried her eyes and wiped her nose with her face-mask. She stood up, kissed me on the cheek, and left down the hallway.
She emailed me every day for a year:
“You set me free to love my son. You set my son free from being the object of my shame instead of the object of my love. You delivered us into a whole new life.”
“Not me,” I replied the first time, “I didn’t even remember to zip my fly this morning.”
On Friday afternoon, I got a phone call from a reporter looking for a comment about our denomination’s global gathering and the conclusion to its long fought feud over the full inclusion of LGBTQ Christians. I corrected some of the errors in his legislative takeaways, and I supplied him with some biographical detail about myself. And then he asked me a question. “I just want to get a quote,” he said, “In light of the changes in your church, what are you going to preach this Sunday?”
As soon as he asked me the question, I thought of that mother, in my office, on my couch, her eyes closed liked a desert wayfarer.
“What am I going to preach this Sunday? The same thing I preached last Sunday. The gospel.”He laughed like I was joking.
“Seriously?” he pressed, “Do you not support the fact that your church is now fully inclusive?”
“Of course I support it,” I said, “I celebrate it— I’ve had more skin in the fight than most people know, going back almost twenty-five years.”
“So why don’t you plan on preaching about it this Sunday?”“Here’s the thing,” I said to him, “I’m a preacher. I’m even a Christian. We’re in the resurrection business. There’s nothing wrong with a word like inclusion or welcome. Those are good words. The problem is that neither of those words have ever demonstrated the ability to raise the dead to new life. We’ve only got one word that can kill to make alive.”“I don’t know that I can use that quote in my story.”
Look, I don’t know who called you on Friday or how you spent your week. But here’s what I do know. Not one of you— gay or straight, black or white or brown, old or young, married or single, rich or poor, homeless or housed, Republican or Democrat, Pro-Israel or Pro-Palestine, yay or nay on Taylor Swift’s latest album— not one of us made it through this week having practiced the perfect righteousness that the holy and triune God demands.
Somewhere between Monday morning and last night you fell short of the total obedience to the law that the Lord commands.Which means, you came here today in the very same condition in which you showed up last Sunday, dead— dead in your trespasses. Therefore, yet again, unless you want to stay dead, you need to receive and believe a particular promise, the only word that can get death behind you.
Today it sounds like this:
“And you, being dead through your trespasses…you he made alive, having forgiven us all our sins, having blotted out the IOU that was against us. He has taken it away, nailing it to the cross.”
Of all the things we can say, this is the only word we must say.
Trust and believe.
I know!
Some of you accuse me only having one arrow in my quiver, grace.
Blame Jesus!
Every time he shows up on Sunday, he says the same thing too.
Every Sunday he gives you himself and says the same two words, “For you.”
Get more from Jason Micheli in the Substack appAvailable for iOS and AndroidGet the app
May 4, 2024
What Students Read Before They Protest
Tamed Cynic is a reader-supported publication. If you appreciate the work, pay it forward by becoming a paid subscriber!
Here’s my latest conversation with Rabbi Joseph Edelheit, in which we discuss Ross Douthat’s recent column in The NY Times, “What Students Read Before They Protest.”
Show NotesSummaryThe conversation explores the topic of protests on American university campuses and the line between anti-Semitism and legitimate criticism of Israel. The main themes include the lack of critical perspective among protesters, the narrow focus on progressive preoccupations in university curricula, the scapegoating of Israel, and the influence of outside groups in funding and spreading a pro-Hamas narrative. The conversation also touches on the importance of understanding the values that motivate protests and the need for open discourse and understanding between different religious identities. The conversation explores the current state of university protests and the divisions within the country. It discusses the impact of protests on campuses, the role of university administrators, and the challenges of navigating political diversity. The conversation also touches on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the polarization within the Jewish community. The hosts emphasize the importance of dialogue and understanding in addressing these complex issues.
TakeawaysProtesters on American university campuses often lack critical perspective and fail to understand the historical and political complexities of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
University curricula tend to focus narrowly on progressive preoccupations, limiting students' exposure to diverse perspectives and historical events.
Israel is often scapegoated and unfairly criticized, while other global conflicts and human rights abuses receive less attention.
Outside groups, including Arab oil money, may be funding and spreading a pro-Hamas narrative on university campuses.
It is important to understand the values that motivate protests and engage in open discourse to bridge the gap between different religious identities. University protests have become a divisive issue, with students seeking disruption and administrators struggling to handle the situation.
The Israeli-Palestinian conflict has created divisions within the Jewish community and has become a polarizing topic on university campuses.
Dialogue and understanding are crucial in addressing these complex issues and finding common ground.
The role of university administrators in navigating political diversity and maintaining a balanced discourse is questioned.
The conversation highlights the need for accountability and addressing racism while avoiding the demonization of certain groups.
Titles
The Scapegoating of Israel
The Narrow Focus of University Curricula Navigating Political Diversity in the University Setting
The Challenges of University Protests and Campus Divisions
Sound Bites
"Let's talk about the tragedy of what has happened in American universities. And I'm going to call it the Please Tell Me What You Mean campaign."
"Is there a difference between a Jew and Israeli and a Zionist? And I'm not just being obnoxious. I'm serious about if you're protesting, can you explain the purpose of the protest?"
"The tragedy of the past three weeks is a moment in American history where the political division and failure of serious discourse has now taken over the university."
"50 encampments across the country. Okay, that feeds a lot of late night jokes."
"Is it easier for me to conceive of an oil Arab conspiracy rather than a far left empty vacuum conspiracy?"
"This is another moment of the dark division in our country."
Get more from Jason Micheli in the Substack appAvailable for iOS and AndroidGet the app
May 3, 2024
"The Church has never been able to stop the Holy Spirit before.”
Tamed Cynic is a reader-supported publication. If you appreciate the work, pay it forward by becoming a paid subscriber!
About ten years ago, I got a call one Saturday morning from a friend and former colleague.
Andrew had served as the youth minister on my staff for a number of years. He was baptized and nurtured in a Methodist Church. He’d been active in his own youth group and, later, campus ministry so when he graduated from William and Mary he felt called to serve as a youth pastor. And he was great at it and great to work alongside.
A Bible nerd, during Holy Week one year, Andrew had the youth build an exact replica, scene for scene, of the passion story out of Legos. Andrew could unpack difficult points of theology for confirmation students. When one of those confirmands committed suicide, I trusted Andrew to do the pastoral care and funeral with me. His call was clear and the fruits of his ministry were many. Still, there was always a sadness about Andrew I couldn’t name. Eventually, Andrew left to study theology at Yale. He started the ordination process and served a tiny congregation near New Haven that loved him. Then one Saturday, just two years into his studies, Andrew called me to tell me he’d decided to finish early with a different degree.
“But why?” I asked, “You’ve still got a third of the credits you need for ordination.”
“I’m not going to pursue ordination.”
“Not going to pursue ordination? What happened?”
And then Andrew came out of the closet to me.
After we talked for a while, Andrew brought it back to ministry. “I’m not going to go on this long journey to ordination only to be told at the end of it, ‘You’re not welcome.’”
I tried to dissuade him. “If the Holy Spirit’s really calling you,” I said, “do you think the Holy Spirit gives a rip what sort of bylaws the bureaucrats in the United Methodist Church try to put in your way? The Church has never been able to stop the Holy Spirit before.”
This week my part of the universal Church caught up to the work the Spirit was already doing in the world.
I’ve long been on the record that I believe marriage and ordination are two ways Christians live out their baptisms and both, pursued Christianly, should be open to all whom Christ has washed with water and the word.
For Andy, I was happy to officiate the former to Matt even while the latter remained closed to him.
For Jenny (above), a longtime congregant, I was grateful to witness Susan pledging her her future even though, given Jenny’s MS, that future is likely hard and frightening indeed.
There is no such thing as a private wedding in the Church. If the God in whose image we are made is triune, then our love is likewise three person’d. Love between two needs a third to witness and celebrate it.
For Andy and Matt, Jenny and Susan, and the several others along the way, better late than never:
“Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is begotten of God, and knoweth God.”
Get more from Jason Micheli in the Substack appAvailable for iOS and AndroidGet the app
Adverbs are Spiritual Quicksand
Tamed Cynic is a reader-supported publication. If you appreciate the work, pay it forward by becoming paid subscriber!
“The Word of God is not rightly divided between Law and Gospel when there is a disposition to offer the comfort of the Gospel only to those who have been made contrite by the Law.”
Any reader already knows the truth of it.
Adverbs are the tell of every found-out liar. I whole-heartedly apologize for any offense I might have caused…
Adverbs are the trademark of every dime-per-word pulp fiction story. Sam Spade braced the suspect’s shoulders menacingly.
Notice, no children’s book worth the encroachment into bedtime employs the little modifiers that most often end in -ly, not because Timmy can’t handle sounding-out “swiftly” but because adverbs aren’t needed for a good and true story.
In case you were sleeping boorishly in high school English class, Stephen King helpfullyexplains:
Adverbs … are words that modify verbs, adjectives, or other adverbs. They’re the ones that usually end in -ly. Adverbs, like the passive voice, seem to have been created with the timid writer in mind.
With adverbs, the writer usually tells us he or she is afraid he/she isn’t expressing himself/herself clearly, that he or she is not getting the point or the picture across.
In On Writing Stephen King asserts that “Fear is at the root of most bad writing.” The fingerprints of the fearful writer are adverbs.
Thank Christ whoever crafted the wedding vows— Thomas Cranmer, I believe— had the cahones to avoid the adverbial. Consider how the common, seemingly harmless little adverb transforms the marriage covenant from a clear and simple (if terrifying) promise into a Sisyphean endeavor I can never know if I’m upholding aright.
Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?
vs.
Will you sincerely love her, whole-heartedly comfort her, genuinely honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, resolutely forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?
The former is merely an enormous and outrageous promise.
The latter is psychological torture.
Implied by and requisite to the gospel is that neither my will nor the rest of me is free.Consequently, I am a stranger to myself.Most especially am I in the dark as to the truth of my motivations.Jason Micheli's Blog
- Jason Micheli's profile
- 13 followers
