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A Bigger Table: Building Messy, Authentic, and Hopeful Spiritual Community
No one likes to eat alone; to approach a table filled with people, only to be told that despite the open chairs there isn't room for you. The rejection stings. It leaves a mark. Yet this is exactly what the church has been saying to far too many people for far too long: "You're not welcome here. Find someplace else to sit." How can we extend unconditional welcome and acceptance in a world increasingly marked by bigotry, fear, and exclusion?
Pastor John Pavlovitz invites readers to join him on the journey to find--or build--a church that is big enough for everyone. He speaks clearly into the heart of the issues the Christian community has been earnestly wrestling with: LGBT inclusion, gender equality, racial tensions, and global concerns. A Bigger Table: Building Messy, Authentic, Hopeful Spiritual Community asks if organized Christianity can find a new way of faithfully continuing the work Jesus began two thousand years ago, where everyone gets a seat.
Pavlovitz shares moving personal stories and his careful observations as a pastor to set the table for a new, more loving conversation on these and other important matters of faith. He invites us to build the bigger table Jesus imagined, practicing radical hospitality, total authenticity, messy diversity, and agenda-free community.
Pastor John Pavlovitz invites readers to join him on the journey to find--or build--a church that is big enough for everyone. He speaks clearly into the heart of the issues the Christian community has been earnestly wrestling with: LGBT inclusion, gender equality, racial tensions, and global concerns. A Bigger Table: Building Messy, Authentic, Hopeful Spiritual Community asks if organized Christianity can find a new way of faithfully continuing the work Jesus began two thousand years ago, where everyone gets a seat.
Pavlovitz shares moving personal stories and his careful observations as a pastor to set the table for a new, more loving conversation on these and other important matters of faith. He invites us to build the bigger table Jesus imagined, practicing radical hospitality, total authenticity, messy diversity, and agenda-free community.
192 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 2017
309 people are currently reading
1839 people want to read
About the author
John Pavlovitz
17 books223 followersJohn Pavlovitz is an American Unitarian pastor and author, known for his social and political writings from a post modern Unitarian universalist perspective.
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June 9, 2018
4.5
"A Bigger Table: Building Messy, Authentic, Hopeful Spiritual Community asks if organized Christianity can find a new way of faithfully continuing the work Jesus began two thousand years ago, where everyone gets a seat." from the publisher
Today I saw a Facebook discussion on a meme that stated if your theology does not teach you to love more, you have the wrong theology. A person queried what 'love' is, noting it isn't 'comforting people in their sin,' and went on to justify the judgment of sinners. Comments were bandied back and forth, justifying this and that, until someone said, "why don't we just do it"--just love more.
As our society has become divided, so have our churches. We not only don't talk to each other, we don't even want to be associated with each other.
I may not talk about it directly, but my experience shows up now and then in my reviews. I am talking about my 38 years as a minister's wife. My husband served twelve churches between 1972 and 2014, in the inner city and the suburbs and in small towns and resort towns.
The nature of the church changed hugely during these years, and not for the better. As churches competed for a limited number of church-goers, the press was for more 'warm bodies,' flashier worship, and expanded facilities. Generational differences created hard feelings over worship styles, hymns, and projected order of worship over bulletins.
The worst experience we had was at a church that actually divided. Members who had come from another faith background decided the denomination's social principles were incompatible with their personal theology. They wrecked as much damage to the congregation and pastor as possible before leaving to start their own church.
I discovered John Pavlovitz when a Facebook friend shared his posts. I started reading his thoughts and found a kindred spirit. He wrote about how the contemporary Christian church had become politicized and was focused more on who was 'out' than on ministering to all our neighbors. He said it was alright if we have given up on organized religion.
Pavlovitz's book A Bigger Table is the story of his faith journey. And it is about hospitality, welcoming everyone to the feast, the people we are uncomfortable with, the people we don't always agree with, the people we have been told to avoid, and those condemned and cast into the outer darkness. By telling his story, Pavlovitz models spiritual growth. By telling stories of the people he met on his faith journey, he shows us that a bigger table may rock the boat, but better reflects the model of Jesus' life.
Pavlovitz's experience is not so different from mine. He grew up in a nice family. He was taught to avoid certain people. He went to art school in downtown Philadelphia and his experiences in the city, living among and working with a diversity of people, changed his life. As Philadelphia changed my life when we moved there in 1974. Like John, I found the experience was thrilling. I loved being around people who were different in their religion, ethnicity, and sexual orientation.
When Pavlovitz and his fiance wanted to be married, they found a United Methodist pastor who welcomed them. His spiritual life blossomed in that church and the pastor invited him to be a youth worker. I also loved working with youth myself! I loved their questioning, their openness, their desire to change the world.
Pavlovitz was called into ministry and he became involved with a megachurch until he was fired for not fitting in. He says it was the best thing to happen to him because he was freed from expectations. Pastors who want stability and a good salary don't rock the boat. But to follow Jesus, we will rock the boat.
He was "emancipated from organized American Christianity" and freed to follow Jesus' example of hospitality and inclusion, of listening to people instead of pontificating, of acceptance and not judgment.
Redemptive community, Pavlovitz writes, "means we endure the tension of creating peace for another while experiencing discomfort ourselves."
I thought about a church whose sanctuary redecoration came to a grinding halt because the older folk wanted a "comfortable" bland space while the younger folk--who were doing the work--had presented a carefully considered decorating scheme in more vivid colors. It is just a small example of decisions made every day to protect our comfort over supporting visions for change.
Pavlovitz writes, "In fact, most of us who have experienced some disconnection with organized religion would name this as one of our core frustrations: we see Christians making little difference in the world, or making a difference that feels more like harm."
We need to throw over results-based Christianity with the secular goals we have been embracing, Pavlovitz says, to concentrate on building community and supporting authenticity and staying in for the long haul.
Today, all around Metro Detroit churches are adopting radical hospitality, becoming reconciling churches to welcome LGBT, providing sanctuary for immigrants targeted by ICE, supporting the Muslim community, building tiny homes or providing free meals or hosting the homeless and food banks.
It gives me hope.
I received an ebook from the publisher through Edelweiss in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.
"A Bigger Table: Building Messy, Authentic, Hopeful Spiritual Community asks if organized Christianity can find a new way of faithfully continuing the work Jesus began two thousand years ago, where everyone gets a seat." from the publisher
Today I saw a Facebook discussion on a meme that stated if your theology does not teach you to love more, you have the wrong theology. A person queried what 'love' is, noting it isn't 'comforting people in their sin,' and went on to justify the judgment of sinners. Comments were bandied back and forth, justifying this and that, until someone said, "why don't we just do it"--just love more.
As our society has become divided, so have our churches. We not only don't talk to each other, we don't even want to be associated with each other.
I may not talk about it directly, but my experience shows up now and then in my reviews. I am talking about my 38 years as a minister's wife. My husband served twelve churches between 1972 and 2014, in the inner city and the suburbs and in small towns and resort towns.
The nature of the church changed hugely during these years, and not for the better. As churches competed for a limited number of church-goers, the press was for more 'warm bodies,' flashier worship, and expanded facilities. Generational differences created hard feelings over worship styles, hymns, and projected order of worship over bulletins.
The worst experience we had was at a church that actually divided. Members who had come from another faith background decided the denomination's social principles were incompatible with their personal theology. They wrecked as much damage to the congregation and pastor as possible before leaving to start their own church.
I discovered John Pavlovitz when a Facebook friend shared his posts. I started reading his thoughts and found a kindred spirit. He wrote about how the contemporary Christian church had become politicized and was focused more on who was 'out' than on ministering to all our neighbors. He said it was alright if we have given up on organized religion.
Pavlovitz's book A Bigger Table is the story of his faith journey. And it is about hospitality, welcoming everyone to the feast, the people we are uncomfortable with, the people we don't always agree with, the people we have been told to avoid, and those condemned and cast into the outer darkness. By telling his story, Pavlovitz models spiritual growth. By telling stories of the people he met on his faith journey, he shows us that a bigger table may rock the boat, but better reflects the model of Jesus' life.
Pavlovitz's experience is not so different from mine. He grew up in a nice family. He was taught to avoid certain people. He went to art school in downtown Philadelphia and his experiences in the city, living among and working with a diversity of people, changed his life. As Philadelphia changed my life when we moved there in 1974. Like John, I found the experience was thrilling. I loved being around people who were different in their religion, ethnicity, and sexual orientation.
When Pavlovitz and his fiance wanted to be married, they found a United Methodist pastor who welcomed them. His spiritual life blossomed in that church and the pastor invited him to be a youth worker. I also loved working with youth myself! I loved their questioning, their openness, their desire to change the world.
Pavlovitz was called into ministry and he became involved with a megachurch until he was fired for not fitting in. He says it was the best thing to happen to him because he was freed from expectations. Pastors who want stability and a good salary don't rock the boat. But to follow Jesus, we will rock the boat.
He was "emancipated from organized American Christianity" and freed to follow Jesus' example of hospitality and inclusion, of listening to people instead of pontificating, of acceptance and not judgment.
Redemptive community, Pavlovitz writes, "means we endure the tension of creating peace for another while experiencing discomfort ourselves."
I thought about a church whose sanctuary redecoration came to a grinding halt because the older folk wanted a "comfortable" bland space while the younger folk--who were doing the work--had presented a carefully considered decorating scheme in more vivid colors. It is just a small example of decisions made every day to protect our comfort over supporting visions for change.
Pavlovitz writes, "In fact, most of us who have experienced some disconnection with organized religion would name this as one of our core frustrations: we see Christians making little difference in the world, or making a difference that feels more like harm."
We need to throw over results-based Christianity with the secular goals we have been embracing, Pavlovitz says, to concentrate on building community and supporting authenticity and staying in for the long haul.
Today, all around Metro Detroit churches are adopting radical hospitality, becoming reconciling churches to welcome LGBT, providing sanctuary for immigrants targeted by ICE, supporting the Muslim community, building tiny homes or providing free meals or hosting the homeless and food banks.
It gives me hope.
I received an ebook from the publisher through Edelweiss in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.
August 1, 2017
In the introduction to A Bigger Table: Building Messy, Authentic, and Hopeful Spiritual Community, John Pavlovitz writes, “This book is about humanity, about the one flawed family that we belong to and the singular, odd, staggeringly beautiful story we all share. It’s about trying to excavate those priceless truths from beneath the layers of far less important things that we’ve pile on top of them since we’ve been here. It’s about jettisoning everything in and around us that would shrink our tables.” (xiii) What it’s really about is tolerance and inclusion of LGBTQ in Christ’s church with no reservation. While I concur with Pavlovitz that we need to love people and be willing to sit at the same table, his use of Scripture and Jesus’ example leads the reader to believe that exclusivity is the only sin, that we are only unwilling to allow people into the Christ’s church because of our prejudices and biased upbringings, and that Jesus was a happy hippy who had no agenda and didn’t try to change people (except to make them tolerant of all other people). Much of this stems from some personal and unpleasant experiences with the church, with which many of us can certainly relate and understand. He rightly pushes back against business- and attraction-model churches, but argues for something that may appear virtually and functionally the same to those on the outside (108–110). Much of what Pavlovitz believes and writes is based on emotion what has felt good to him (even if they be difficult to deal with) rather than from a good wrestling with the whole of the Bible.
While likely intended to be a book about mercy and grace, it is really about loving people as they are and leaving them that way “because we are full image bearers of God and beloved as we are, without alteration.” (164) After reading Pavlovitz’s own words about his upbringing and current faith, I am not convinced he believes he has ever sinned (164–165) or that there is such a thing as sin (he encourages the reader to see suffering instead of sin [124], but this ought to be both-and, not either-or). Heaven on earth for him is simply diversity for the sake of diversity with open conversations where there is absolutely no pushback or accountability—where churches people can curse and say anything from pulpits like they do at his because that’s “real.” (81–82) While I’m certain there are many who will find this and the embedded universalism appealing, it’s not the image of ultimate redemption I find in Scripture.
*I received a temporary digital copy for review from Westminster John Knox Press via NetGalley.
While likely intended to be a book about mercy and grace, it is really about loving people as they are and leaving them that way “because we are full image bearers of God and beloved as we are, without alteration.” (164) After reading Pavlovitz’s own words about his upbringing and current faith, I am not convinced he believes he has ever sinned (164–165) or that there is such a thing as sin (he encourages the reader to see suffering instead of sin [124], but this ought to be both-and, not either-or). Heaven on earth for him is simply diversity for the sake of diversity with open conversations where there is absolutely no pushback or accountability—where churches people can curse and say anything from pulpits like they do at his because that’s “real.” (81–82) While I’m certain there are many who will find this and the embedded universalism appealing, it’s not the image of ultimate redemption I find in Scripture.
*I received a temporary digital copy for review from Westminster John Knox Press via NetGalley.
November 16, 2017
I bought this book after following Pastor Pavlovitz' blog for the past year or so. John is very outspoken in his beliefs, and I appreciate and agree with pretty much all he says and writes about. This book is about building a bigger Christian community by practicing acceptance and love, acceptance of all, acceptance of those different, acceptace of the LGBT community, acceptance of those of other faiths, by practicing love, unconditional love, non-discriminating love, as Jesus did.
September 21, 2017
I wanted to like this book more than I ended up doing. Pavlovitz has an important message, and my copy of the book is full of highlighted passages. The central message of expanding our tables/communities to include those who aren't like us is vital. Pavlovitz provides enough of a background of his own story at the start and scattered throughout to keep his argument grounded and personal.
The book, while short, unfolds a little slowly. The sequencing of ideas is right, but it seems like there are many more places and nuances to go here.
Where he loses me is in the latter third. Pavlovitz strays so far from traditional Christian ideas that I have to ask the question he says I will: What makes his community “Christian?” I don't think he ever successfully answers that. As a book about community-building and even entering into thoughts of justice and shalom, it works, but he doesn't get to how this functions as a Christian community.
He could have done a few more pieces of work to help: First, he could rely on the Bible more. There's a general approach of “Jesus was like this; we should be like this,” but I could have used more exegesis to support some of his side points (not his main one – the reach to a diverse and disagreeing community seems to be fundamental to the gospel). Related, he didn't address some of the tougher New Testament issues, particularly the hints of ecclesiology in Paul, or of the question of sanctification. The approach of “everyone's okay, so let's be fine with that” doesn't seem Biblical. What he's arguing could be, but given his unorthodoxy, it's hard to see how his claims make for a Christian community (and I'm fine with thinking in terms apart from contemporary church structures, etc, just not in the utter delimiting what counts as Christian).
Second, and this isn't unrelated, he could have included more practical tips. How do you get Baptist with conservative views to take communion with an LGBTQ Christian? How do nonbelievers fit into a worship service? How, if at all, does church discipline or discipling take place.
The central message here is essential, particularly in our times, and since it reads as a corrective there isn't a whole lot of space for nuance. However, in a challenging issue, I don't know that something polemical is going to reach people who don't already agree.
[Based on a NetGalley edition.]
The book, while short, unfolds a little slowly. The sequencing of ideas is right, but it seems like there are many more places and nuances to go here.
Where he loses me is in the latter third. Pavlovitz strays so far from traditional Christian ideas that I have to ask the question he says I will: What makes his community “Christian?” I don't think he ever successfully answers that. As a book about community-building and even entering into thoughts of justice and shalom, it works, but he doesn't get to how this functions as a Christian community.
He could have done a few more pieces of work to help: First, he could rely on the Bible more. There's a general approach of “Jesus was like this; we should be like this,” but I could have used more exegesis to support some of his side points (not his main one – the reach to a diverse and disagreeing community seems to be fundamental to the gospel). Related, he didn't address some of the tougher New Testament issues, particularly the hints of ecclesiology in Paul, or of the question of sanctification. The approach of “everyone's okay, so let's be fine with that” doesn't seem Biblical. What he's arguing could be, but given his unorthodoxy, it's hard to see how his claims make for a Christian community (and I'm fine with thinking in terms apart from contemporary church structures, etc, just not in the utter delimiting what counts as Christian).
Second, and this isn't unrelated, he could have included more practical tips. How do you get Baptist with conservative views to take communion with an LGBTQ Christian? How do nonbelievers fit into a worship service? How, if at all, does church discipline or discipling take place.
The central message here is essential, particularly in our times, and since it reads as a corrective there isn't a whole lot of space for nuance. However, in a challenging issue, I don't know that something polemical is going to reach people who don't already agree.
[Based on a NetGalley edition.]
January 21, 2018
I was raised in a faith tradition where the table was (and still is) small. In fact, it's the size of a TV tray. There's no room for anyone who's not their same color, sexual orientation, economic status, academic background, political affiliation, and faith. If you're different, you're going straight to hell and eternal damnation on a bullet train on greased rails. That's why I left, running as fast and as far from that belief system as I could.
I loved reading A BIGGER TABLE. In it, John Pavlovitz blows those rigid myths right out of the water. The table is big enough for everyone. Regardless.
I loved reading A BIGGER TABLE. In it, John Pavlovitz blows those rigid myths right out of the water. The table is big enough for everyone. Regardless.
January 9, 2018
John Pavlovitz (JP) begins with the laudable goal of building a “bigger table” to which more people can be invited. This is both an actual and a metaphorical table where people meet and eat together. It is a “… sign of respect, or association with another – of one’s willingness to be seen in fellowship” (59).
JP introduces his book with an unabashed disdain for the results of the 2016 American presidential election as a manifestation of the drift of American culture, including American Christianity, toward greater division and exclusion (ix ff., 73). I write as a non-American.
The eighteen chapters of the book are divided into three sections: Big God, Small Table; Building the Bigger Table; and Under Construction. In the second of these sections JP presents his “four legs” for the “bigger table”: radical hospitality; total authenticity; true diversity; and agenda-free community (i.e., relationship).
The author draws from his experiences to declare the need for a larger table, and to propose a way to build it.
BOUQUET: JP delivers a much-needed corrective not only to the American Church, but also to the Western Church at large.
We are guilty of divisive and exclusionary practices that have isolated the Church from Society, and alienated Society from the Church. We need to love people unconditionally, whoever they are, in tangible and practical ways. In other words, we need to love people the way God/Jesus loves them.
There are many subsets of this. For instance, the need to displace abstract doctrinal positions with real people who have names and faces.
BEEFS: I will mention three defects I perceive in JP’s approach.
1. My key criticism is that JP’s treatment is not exegetical. By this I mean that he is very light on building what he writes on a biblical foundation. True, he refers to some incidents in which Jesus scandalously enjoys table fellowship with those deemed unacceptable by the “elite,” but he avoids any examination or discussion of a core issue of his book.
That core issue is the Church’s relationship to the LGBTQ community. This is how JP states his position: “This is why the inclusion of the LGBTQ community into the body of Christ is so important in these days, and why it is one of the hills worth dying on for me as a pastor” (138).
Validation of the LGBTQ lifestyle is a foregone conclusion for JP. The reader is offered the author’s conclusion that “I���d done my homework. I’d studied. I’d prayed through it. I’d already reconciled so many of my feelings on gender identity and sexual orientation …” (17). It seems that he’s preaching to the choir. If you’re in JP’s “choir” you will agree with him; if not, you will remain unconvinced.
JP offers neither discussion of, nor reference to, biblical texts relevant to his musings or conclusions. JP would be hard-pressed to maintain his position in the face of a credible reading and understanding of Romans 1:18-32; 1 Corinthians 6:9 in the context of 4:18-6:20; 1 Timothy 1:10 in the context of 1:8-11.
2. JP’s treatment appears unbalanced. He polarizes positions for and against his views. He does not seem to acknowledge the existence of positions on the spectrum between these poles.
For example, his statement of “the inclusion of the LGBTQ community into the body of Christ” (138) is offset against “the Church’s resistance to and persecution of” the LGBTQ community (139). It seems you are either in one camp or the other.
In Jesus came both “grace and truth” (John 1:14, 17) – neither at the expense of the other; both present in wholesome tension. It is to this Spirit-filled stance of the wholesome tension of grace and truth that Christians are called – sacrificing neither grace nor truth.
3. JP’s treatment is somewhat simplistic. This is a by-product of polarizing positions.
JP seems to adopt the flawed argument that that love for a person necessitates endorsement of that person’s attitudes and practices.
On the contrary, you can genuinely love people while disagreeing with them. Any person who has responsibly raised a teenager will be aware of this dynamic. Indeed, God loves us unconditionally even when he does not agree with how we live (Romans 5:8).
This principle also applies to the Church’s treatment toward the LGBTQ community. The follower of Jesus is called to love these people as God loves them, without endorsing sinful lifestyles.
As an illustration, Jesus says to the woman caught in adultery, “neither do I condemn you” (John 8:11). But we do not take the ethics of Jesus seriously if we do not add what Jesus adds: “Go now and leave your life of sin.”
Our plea should be, “Lord, empower me to love like you.”
CONCLUSION: JP makes it clear that we need to love the ‘other’ – including (perhaps especially) those who are different and with whom we do not agree. Apart from that, his proposal is unconvincing and disappointing.
Unfortunately, I cannot recommend this book.
For those desiring more biblically grounded and balanced treatments of meals with Jesus, I recommend Craig Blomberg’s "Contagious Holiness: Jesus' Meals with Sinners," and Tim Chester’s "A Meal with Jesus: Discovering Grace, Community, and Mission Around the Table." Dan Allender’s "Bold Love" will also be helpful.
Disclosure: I received this book free from the author and/or publisher through the Speakeasy blogging book review network. I was not required to write a positive review.
2 of 5 stars
JP introduces his book with an unabashed disdain for the results of the 2016 American presidential election as a manifestation of the drift of American culture, including American Christianity, toward greater division and exclusion (ix ff., 73). I write as a non-American.
The eighteen chapters of the book are divided into three sections: Big God, Small Table; Building the Bigger Table; and Under Construction. In the second of these sections JP presents his “four legs” for the “bigger table”: radical hospitality; total authenticity; true diversity; and agenda-free community (i.e., relationship).
The author draws from his experiences to declare the need for a larger table, and to propose a way to build it.
BOUQUET: JP delivers a much-needed corrective not only to the American Church, but also to the Western Church at large.
We are guilty of divisive and exclusionary practices that have isolated the Church from Society, and alienated Society from the Church. We need to love people unconditionally, whoever they are, in tangible and practical ways. In other words, we need to love people the way God/Jesus loves them.
There are many subsets of this. For instance, the need to displace abstract doctrinal positions with real people who have names and faces.
BEEFS: I will mention three defects I perceive in JP’s approach.
1. My key criticism is that JP’s treatment is not exegetical. By this I mean that he is very light on building what he writes on a biblical foundation. True, he refers to some incidents in which Jesus scandalously enjoys table fellowship with those deemed unacceptable by the “elite,” but he avoids any examination or discussion of a core issue of his book.
That core issue is the Church’s relationship to the LGBTQ community. This is how JP states his position: “This is why the inclusion of the LGBTQ community into the body of Christ is so important in these days, and why it is one of the hills worth dying on for me as a pastor” (138).
Validation of the LGBTQ lifestyle is a foregone conclusion for JP. The reader is offered the author’s conclusion that “I���d done my homework. I’d studied. I’d prayed through it. I’d already reconciled so many of my feelings on gender identity and sexual orientation …” (17). It seems that he’s preaching to the choir. If you’re in JP’s “choir” you will agree with him; if not, you will remain unconvinced.
JP offers neither discussion of, nor reference to, biblical texts relevant to his musings or conclusions. JP would be hard-pressed to maintain his position in the face of a credible reading and understanding of Romans 1:18-32; 1 Corinthians 6:9 in the context of 4:18-6:20; 1 Timothy 1:10 in the context of 1:8-11.
2. JP’s treatment appears unbalanced. He polarizes positions for and against his views. He does not seem to acknowledge the existence of positions on the spectrum between these poles.
For example, his statement of “the inclusion of the LGBTQ community into the body of Christ” (138) is offset against “the Church’s resistance to and persecution of” the LGBTQ community (139). It seems you are either in one camp or the other.
In Jesus came both “grace and truth” (John 1:14, 17) – neither at the expense of the other; both present in wholesome tension. It is to this Spirit-filled stance of the wholesome tension of grace and truth that Christians are called – sacrificing neither grace nor truth.
3. JP’s treatment is somewhat simplistic. This is a by-product of polarizing positions.
JP seems to adopt the flawed argument that that love for a person necessitates endorsement of that person’s attitudes and practices.
On the contrary, you can genuinely love people while disagreeing with them. Any person who has responsibly raised a teenager will be aware of this dynamic. Indeed, God loves us unconditionally even when he does not agree with how we live (Romans 5:8).
This principle also applies to the Church’s treatment toward the LGBTQ community. The follower of Jesus is called to love these people as God loves them, without endorsing sinful lifestyles.
As an illustration, Jesus says to the woman caught in adultery, “neither do I condemn you” (John 8:11). But we do not take the ethics of Jesus seriously if we do not add what Jesus adds: “Go now and leave your life of sin.”
Our plea should be, “Lord, empower me to love like you.”
CONCLUSION: JP makes it clear that we need to love the ‘other’ – including (perhaps especially) those who are different and with whom we do not agree. Apart from that, his proposal is unconvincing and disappointing.
Unfortunately, I cannot recommend this book.
For those desiring more biblically grounded and balanced treatments of meals with Jesus, I recommend Craig Blomberg’s "Contagious Holiness: Jesus' Meals with Sinners," and Tim Chester’s "A Meal with Jesus: Discovering Grace, Community, and Mission Around the Table." Dan Allender’s "Bold Love" will also be helpful.
Disclosure: I received this book free from the author and/or publisher through the Speakeasy blogging book review network. I was not required to write a positive review.
2 of 5 stars
October 29, 2017
I don't know how to recommend this book strongly enough. If you're by-passing it because of theology, politics, doctrine, whatever, you're misleading yourself about it, about the author, about the Church, about faith.
I firmly believe this book should be required reading for all clergy, and highly recommend it for small group, church-wide, and interfaith study.
It's past time for a bigger table, and this book has the tools for building it.
I will never be able to lend my copy because nearly every page is riddled with underlining and notes. It's been a slow read, not because it's difficult or over my head, but because it's filled with such profound revelations, I reread sections multiple times, trying to embed it in my mind.
I constantly wanted to stop, go to sermons I'd already delivered, and expand them with quotes from this book because that would drive them solidly home.
If you haven't read this, you need to. NOW. If you are avoiding it because politics, because doctrine, because theology ... get over your ego and READ THIS NOW. If you hate God, Christians, Christianity, organized religion, church ... get over it and READ THIS NOW. And if you want to build a faith community that does what Jesus would have faith communities do ... READ THIS NOW.
I can't recommend this book highly enough. It should be required reading for all clergy.
*this review modified from my mid-read review on Twitter. I've since finished the book.
I firmly believe this book should be required reading for all clergy, and highly recommend it for small group, church-wide, and interfaith study.
It's past time for a bigger table, and this book has the tools for building it.
I will never be able to lend my copy because nearly every page is riddled with underlining and notes. It's been a slow read, not because it's difficult or over my head, but because it's filled with such profound revelations, I reread sections multiple times, trying to embed it in my mind.
I constantly wanted to stop, go to sermons I'd already delivered, and expand them with quotes from this book because that would drive them solidly home.
If you haven't read this, you need to. NOW. If you are avoiding it because politics, because doctrine, because theology ... get over your ego and READ THIS NOW. If you hate God, Christians, Christianity, organized religion, church ... get over it and READ THIS NOW. And if you want to build a faith community that does what Jesus would have faith communities do ... READ THIS NOW.
I can't recommend this book highly enough. It should be required reading for all clergy.
*this review modified from my mid-read review on Twitter. I've since finished the book.
May 28, 2018
I have long had a love-hate relationship with church. Wen I was in elementary and junior high school, the congregation I attended held a youth church camp every year. My favorite part of those days was the vesper service held at the lake. The sun would set as we sang songs of worship, and as we then sat in silence, the crickets would sing in response. More than once, I found tears in my eyes.
Then there was the beauty and mystery of Christmas. I especially anticipated Christmas Eve. For many years, when everyone else in the family was still asleep, I would get up well before dawn and sit in silence before the lighted tree where I would listen to carols softly playing on the stereo, read the Christmas story in the Bible, and meditate upon the beauty of the mysterious love born that day.
However, while in junior high school, I also recall lying in bed at night thinking about the Crusades I learned about in history. I remember how angry I felt when I learned that Christians and Muslims waged war for land and when I realized that people sometimes use God as an excuse to kill other people.
Furthermore, as I watched the Civil Rights movement play out on television, I again felt horror and anger as I saw churchgoing people commit hateful, fearful, oppressive, and violent acts against persons of color. My friend, Rhonda, could be one of those persons attacked by dogs. I could not understand how sending dogs against people like her demonstrated God’s love.
Later, as a high school student, I began thinking I might want to go into the ministry. In fact, the minister of our church asked to take me to an orientation session at a bible college in Cincinnati. I, however, was facing a new challenge with the church. I knew I was gay.
When I was young, my family attended a conservative church best described as fundamentalist or literalist. It was a place we went for Sunday School and three worship services each week. It was a church that taught me well about God’s wrath and law. It was a church that told me, a boy discovering he was gay, that the fires of hell awaited and there was nothing I could do about it. I was going to burn.
For years, I prayed without ceasing that God would change me, but as I wept nightly tears and trembled in fear, I accepted the position of the Church and knew I was an abomination in the eyes of the one who created me. The God who made me, hated me.
Later, during my late teens, I left that denomination and eventually found myself in one that told me of God’s grace…for a time. That congregation had a minister who said God loved me even though I was a sinner. When I told this minister of my struggle with my sexual orientation, he assured me God loved me, but was testing me. I would not go to hell because I was gay, but I would if I acted on who I was. I must deny the person God created me to be. I must not fall in love. I must lead a loveless life. If I wanted a family, if I did not want to be alone, I could marry a woman even though it would hurt us both. I would have to decide: live a miserable and hurtful life of lies and deceit and pass God’s test or live the truth of who I was and fail that test.
What the Church says and does matters.
I eventually left that denomination--and God--feeling full of shame and self-loathing. Everlasting fire. Loveless life. Lies and deceit. That was to be my life and my afterlife. This was what God wanted for me.
I gave up any thoughts of going into ministry and, for years, I gave up going to church and even tried to give up a belief in a divine power higher than myself.
After several years away but still wanting to be in spiritual community I decided to try yet another church. Its congregation had a new pastor. This man, with smiles, warmth, and sincerity, told me repeatedly that God loved me and there was nothing I could do about it. I kept waiting for this man to tell me “but,” however he never did.
While the larger denomination to which this congregation belongs—the United Methodists—state that “The practice of homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching,” the congregation was one of those rebelling and proclaiming that ALL people are children of God and ALL are welcome. It was a congregation that tried to live out its words that they welcome “persons of all ages, races, sexual orientations, family configurations, gender identities, economic abilities, and mental & physical capacities. We say to everyone: God loves you. We love you. Come, walk with us in the glorious Light of God!”
The (now former) pastor (as well as those who have followed him) preached that God loved me--a gay man--and wanted me--a gay man--to partake of the joy that comes with that mysterious love of God. I did not have to live a lonely life filled with shame, embarrassment, fear, and self-loathing. I did not have to lie. In fact, even though I attended the church as an openly gay man, the congregation still asked me to serve on committees in the church and to be chair of the pastor-parish relations committee.
Several years later, this pastor officiated at my wedding and the wedding of other same-sex couples, and even married his same-sex partner of thirty years. Almost the day after his own wedding, several other United Methodist clergy from other congregations filed charges to strip him of his credentials of ordination.
What the Church says and does matters.
Those charges not only put the pastor on trial, they tell all LGBTQ persons they too are “incompatible with Christian teaching.” They loudly and violently proclaim to LGBTQ persons that the God who made them is the God who hates them. They tell the people of the world that they are right to fear, condemn, and harm LGBTQ persons. But even more, they send a message across the world that God is an exclusive God.
Recently, a person or persons broke into the office of this pastor who now serves in Cincinnati. They did not steal a laptop from the desk nor did they go through drawers. They did not even steal valuable antique silver belonging to the congregation. All they stole were the pastor’s diploma and letters of ordination. They purposely wanted to send a message that he was not welcome nor was he a “real” minister.
Even though the congregation is still open, inclusive, welcoming, and affirming, I have not attended since outside clergy filed their charges (what the church says and does matters). I have grown weary of the spiritual abuse so many churches inflict upon people and weary of supporting the larger denomination that does not want me or those like me.
Even so, members of the pastor’s defense team asked that I work with a rabbi in Cincinnati to write a letter of petition for support. I was happy to do so because I know what this pastor is doing is valuable and important. Perhaps one day I will even be willing to continue to work from within the church to build a bigger table.
What the Church says and does matters.
It was in this context, and when an evangelical member of my family became a field organizer for the Trump campaign and went on to work in his administration, that I first came upon John Pavlovitz’s blog, Stuff That Needs to Be Said, and later his book, A Bigger Table.
John Pavlovitz, born into an Italian-Catholic family in Syracuse, New York, studied graphic design at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia. While attending college, he became aware of the diversity of the United States and began to question some of the faith stories and values he learned during his childhood.
During his years-long soul-searching that began during his college years, he understood that organized religion often creates groups they believe are “in” or “out” with God. Then, when his brother came out as gay, he began to understand that we all are Children of God no matter our faith traditions, sexual orientation, gender, social-economic class, race, and so forth.
After college he and his wife joined a United Methodist church where he began working with the youth. He soon attended Eastern Baptist Theological Seminary and later served as a youth pastor for another United Methodist church.
In 2012, he began to write his “no-punches-pulled” Internet blog and worked to make his own congregation more diverse and inclusive. Then he moved to a Southern Baptist “mega-church” where he continued his work to bring the church to the community and to build a “bigger table.” That church, however, fired him after a few months.
As the lead minister fired Pavlovitz in a public coffeeshop, he told him “You don't fit here. You've never fit here.” Though shocked, Pavlovitz soon saw those words as an opportunity to fully speak his mind about the state of Christianity in America.
As Pavlovitz became more outspoken and progressive in his views and gained a large following (his blog received over 23 million “hits” in 2017), controversy followed that helped clarify the polarization in America.
Soon after beginning his blog, Pavlovitz wrote a post called "If I Have Gay Children." In it he wrote that the sexual orientation of his child would have no bearing on his love or support. The post went viral and drew criticism from some people.
Then, in 2016, when a father pled for leniency of his son accused of raping a woman, Pavlovitz wrote another post that began with the words "Brock is not the victim here. His victim is the victim.” It brought Pavlovitz more attention.
However, it was his post from November 9, 2016, that made Pavlovitz an Internet blogger sensation. In that post, he explains the grief reaction many people had to the election of Trump. Since then many of his posts continue to question evangelicals who continue to support Trump.
With his blog, in which he calls out hypocrisy, scolds silence, and pushes for an inclusive view of God, Pavlovitz has gained a large following of progressive Christians. One Raleigh, North Carolina newspaper described his style as “compassion paired with a no-bullshit, emperor-wears-no-clothes attitude, all informed by an inclusive brand of Christianity.”
Pavlovitz’s book is also hard-hitting but compassionate and caring. A Bigger Table tells the story of Pavlovitz’s soul searching that led to his belief that the Jesus of Christianity is far more inclusive, open, and just than organized religion often preaches, and that the Church must set a larger table.
Using the image of a dinner table, Pavlovitz explains that almost all persons prefer sharing a meal with others rather than eating alone. The Bible even includes table stories of Jesus dividing fishes and loaves for the 5,000, turning water into wine for a wedding feast, blessing wine and bread at his last supper, and more. Yet, when people enter many of America’s churches, they find there is no room at the table for them.
Pavlovitz asks how the Church can build a bigger table and unconditionally welcome all persons into the community Jesus envisioned even when the world is increasingly marked by bigotry, fear, and exclusion. He questions how we can build a table as we wrestle with issues of “LGBT inclusion, gender equality, racial tensions, global concerns, and theological shifts.”
Using stories from his life as well as from the Bible and the news, Pavlovitz argues that the church must adopt four no-compromise principles: radical hospitality, total authenticity, messy diversity, and agenda-free community.
Though his blog and book are “straight-shooting” and can even feel harsh to some people, Pavlovitz writes that “there are still ways in which people are oppressing other people. As long as that happens, we still have to name that. Jesus does that throughout the gospels. It’s a redemptive act. It’s not done with malice. It’s done to say, ‘This is not right.’”
This is a recommended book for persons of all faith traditions (or none) since the four marks of a bigger table apply to all areas of life.
Then there was the beauty and mystery of Christmas. I especially anticipated Christmas Eve. For many years, when everyone else in the family was still asleep, I would get up well before dawn and sit in silence before the lighted tree where I would listen to carols softly playing on the stereo, read the Christmas story in the Bible, and meditate upon the beauty of the mysterious love born that day.
However, while in junior high school, I also recall lying in bed at night thinking about the Crusades I learned about in history. I remember how angry I felt when I learned that Christians and Muslims waged war for land and when I realized that people sometimes use God as an excuse to kill other people.
Furthermore, as I watched the Civil Rights movement play out on television, I again felt horror and anger as I saw churchgoing people commit hateful, fearful, oppressive, and violent acts against persons of color. My friend, Rhonda, could be one of those persons attacked by dogs. I could not understand how sending dogs against people like her demonstrated God’s love.
Later, as a high school student, I began thinking I might want to go into the ministry. In fact, the minister of our church asked to take me to an orientation session at a bible college in Cincinnati. I, however, was facing a new challenge with the church. I knew I was gay.
When I was young, my family attended a conservative church best described as fundamentalist or literalist. It was a place we went for Sunday School and three worship services each week. It was a church that taught me well about God’s wrath and law. It was a church that told me, a boy discovering he was gay, that the fires of hell awaited and there was nothing I could do about it. I was going to burn.
For years, I prayed without ceasing that God would change me, but as I wept nightly tears and trembled in fear, I accepted the position of the Church and knew I was an abomination in the eyes of the one who created me. The God who made me, hated me.
Later, during my late teens, I left that denomination and eventually found myself in one that told me of God’s grace…for a time. That congregation had a minister who said God loved me even though I was a sinner. When I told this minister of my struggle with my sexual orientation, he assured me God loved me, but was testing me. I would not go to hell because I was gay, but I would if I acted on who I was. I must deny the person God created me to be. I must not fall in love. I must lead a loveless life. If I wanted a family, if I did not want to be alone, I could marry a woman even though it would hurt us both. I would have to decide: live a miserable and hurtful life of lies and deceit and pass God’s test or live the truth of who I was and fail that test.
What the Church says and does matters.
I eventually left that denomination--and God--feeling full of shame and self-loathing. Everlasting fire. Loveless life. Lies and deceit. That was to be my life and my afterlife. This was what God wanted for me.
I gave up any thoughts of going into ministry and, for years, I gave up going to church and even tried to give up a belief in a divine power higher than myself.
After several years away but still wanting to be in spiritual community I decided to try yet another church. Its congregation had a new pastor. This man, with smiles, warmth, and sincerity, told me repeatedly that God loved me and there was nothing I could do about it. I kept waiting for this man to tell me “but,” however he never did.
While the larger denomination to which this congregation belongs—the United Methodists—state that “The practice of homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching,” the congregation was one of those rebelling and proclaiming that ALL people are children of God and ALL are welcome. It was a congregation that tried to live out its words that they welcome “persons of all ages, races, sexual orientations, family configurations, gender identities, economic abilities, and mental & physical capacities. We say to everyone: God loves you. We love you. Come, walk with us in the glorious Light of God!”
The (now former) pastor (as well as those who have followed him) preached that God loved me--a gay man--and wanted me--a gay man--to partake of the joy that comes with that mysterious love of God. I did not have to live a lonely life filled with shame, embarrassment, fear, and self-loathing. I did not have to lie. In fact, even though I attended the church as an openly gay man, the congregation still asked me to serve on committees in the church and to be chair of the pastor-parish relations committee.
Several years later, this pastor officiated at my wedding and the wedding of other same-sex couples, and even married his same-sex partner of thirty years. Almost the day after his own wedding, several other United Methodist clergy from other congregations filed charges to strip him of his credentials of ordination.
What the Church says and does matters.
Those charges not only put the pastor on trial, they tell all LGBTQ persons they too are “incompatible with Christian teaching.” They loudly and violently proclaim to LGBTQ persons that the God who made them is the God who hates them. They tell the people of the world that they are right to fear, condemn, and harm LGBTQ persons. But even more, they send a message across the world that God is an exclusive God.
Recently, a person or persons broke into the office of this pastor who now serves in Cincinnati. They did not steal a laptop from the desk nor did they go through drawers. They did not even steal valuable antique silver belonging to the congregation. All they stole were the pastor’s diploma and letters of ordination. They purposely wanted to send a message that he was not welcome nor was he a “real” minister.
Even though the congregation is still open, inclusive, welcoming, and affirming, I have not attended since outside clergy filed their charges (what the church says and does matters). I have grown weary of the spiritual abuse so many churches inflict upon people and weary of supporting the larger denomination that does not want me or those like me.
Even so, members of the pastor’s defense team asked that I work with a rabbi in Cincinnati to write a letter of petition for support. I was happy to do so because I know what this pastor is doing is valuable and important. Perhaps one day I will even be willing to continue to work from within the church to build a bigger table.
What the Church says and does matters.
It was in this context, and when an evangelical member of my family became a field organizer for the Trump campaign and went on to work in his administration, that I first came upon John Pavlovitz’s blog, Stuff That Needs to Be Said, and later his book, A Bigger Table.
John Pavlovitz, born into an Italian-Catholic family in Syracuse, New York, studied graphic design at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia. While attending college, he became aware of the diversity of the United States and began to question some of the faith stories and values he learned during his childhood.
During his years-long soul-searching that began during his college years, he understood that organized religion often creates groups they believe are “in” or “out” with God. Then, when his brother came out as gay, he began to understand that we all are Children of God no matter our faith traditions, sexual orientation, gender, social-economic class, race, and so forth.
After college he and his wife joined a United Methodist church where he began working with the youth. He soon attended Eastern Baptist Theological Seminary and later served as a youth pastor for another United Methodist church.
In 2012, he began to write his “no-punches-pulled” Internet blog and worked to make his own congregation more diverse and inclusive. Then he moved to a Southern Baptist “mega-church” where he continued his work to bring the church to the community and to build a “bigger table.” That church, however, fired him after a few months.
As the lead minister fired Pavlovitz in a public coffeeshop, he told him “You don't fit here. You've never fit here.” Though shocked, Pavlovitz soon saw those words as an opportunity to fully speak his mind about the state of Christianity in America.
As Pavlovitz became more outspoken and progressive in his views and gained a large following (his blog received over 23 million “hits” in 2017), controversy followed that helped clarify the polarization in America.
Soon after beginning his blog, Pavlovitz wrote a post called "If I Have Gay Children." In it he wrote that the sexual orientation of his child would have no bearing on his love or support. The post went viral and drew criticism from some people.
Then, in 2016, when a father pled for leniency of his son accused of raping a woman, Pavlovitz wrote another post that began with the words "Brock is not the victim here. His victim is the victim.” It brought Pavlovitz more attention.
However, it was his post from November 9, 2016, that made Pavlovitz an Internet blogger sensation. In that post, he explains the grief reaction many people had to the election of Trump. Since then many of his posts continue to question evangelicals who continue to support Trump.
With his blog, in which he calls out hypocrisy, scolds silence, and pushes for an inclusive view of God, Pavlovitz has gained a large following of progressive Christians. One Raleigh, North Carolina newspaper described his style as “compassion paired with a no-bullshit, emperor-wears-no-clothes attitude, all informed by an inclusive brand of Christianity.”
Pavlovitz’s book is also hard-hitting but compassionate and caring. A Bigger Table tells the story of Pavlovitz’s soul searching that led to his belief that the Jesus of Christianity is far more inclusive, open, and just than organized religion often preaches, and that the Church must set a larger table.
Using the image of a dinner table, Pavlovitz explains that almost all persons prefer sharing a meal with others rather than eating alone. The Bible even includes table stories of Jesus dividing fishes and loaves for the 5,000, turning water into wine for a wedding feast, blessing wine and bread at his last supper, and more. Yet, when people enter many of America’s churches, they find there is no room at the table for them.
Pavlovitz asks how the Church can build a bigger table and unconditionally welcome all persons into the community Jesus envisioned even when the world is increasingly marked by bigotry, fear, and exclusion. He questions how we can build a table as we wrestle with issues of “LGBT inclusion, gender equality, racial tensions, global concerns, and theological shifts.”
Using stories from his life as well as from the Bible and the news, Pavlovitz argues that the church must adopt four no-compromise principles: radical hospitality, total authenticity, messy diversity, and agenda-free community.
Though his blog and book are “straight-shooting” and can even feel harsh to some people, Pavlovitz writes that “there are still ways in which people are oppressing other people. As long as that happens, we still have to name that. Jesus does that throughout the gospels. It’s a redemptive act. It’s not done with malice. It’s done to say, ‘This is not right.’”
This is a recommended book for persons of all faith traditions (or none) since the four marks of a bigger table apply to all areas of life.
May 19, 2019
This book addresses issues that are important to me and I wanted to love it. Sadly, I could not.
It’s not just that the book is painfully repetitive. Or that it failed to provide any real guidance for creating the bigger table. The biggest concern for me is that John Pavlovitz seems completely unfamiliar with the breadth of philosophies and perspectives among Christian denominations. He speaks of “The Church” without seeming to realize that this includes large mainstream denominations like the Episcopal Church, the Lutheran Church (ELCA), the Presbyterian Church, and the United Church of Christ which all sanction same-sex marriage, ordain gay ministers, and often participate in interfaith communities. (In fact, according to a Pew Research Center Survey, 62% of white mainline Protestants support same-sex marriage.)
I’m not suggesting that this represents Christianity everywhere in America. Clearly and sadly it does not. And I’m not saying that the topics tackled in this book aren’t important. But I came away with the impression that John Pavlovitz believes that the Christian church overwhelmingly endorses bigotry and a small table. It left me feeling that he was ignoring what is happening in mainstream Christianity, choosing instead to foster the same biased (or uninformed) image of Christian churches that the media promotes (as it focuses on the Christian right and pretty much ignores the progressive voices among Christians). I suspect that it’s because this other Christian demographic doesn’t fit his narrative. Or maybe it doesn’t fit his self-image as some sort of pioneer in the movement to build a more inclusive church. Alternatively, he may be simply ignorant of what is occurring outside of his own experience in southern evangelical churches. (Truthfully, it’s hard to know what exactly his experience is or even if he is actually an ordained minister since he is extraordinarily secretive about his background.)
I’m glad that Pavlovitz is tackling these issues. But I wish he had pointed out that others are doing the same and that there are many, many churches that are working hard to create a bigger table. At best, his perspective comes across as naïve and uninformed. At worst, it seems arrogant.
It’s not just that the book is painfully repetitive. Or that it failed to provide any real guidance for creating the bigger table. The biggest concern for me is that John Pavlovitz seems completely unfamiliar with the breadth of philosophies and perspectives among Christian denominations. He speaks of “The Church” without seeming to realize that this includes large mainstream denominations like the Episcopal Church, the Lutheran Church (ELCA), the Presbyterian Church, and the United Church of Christ which all sanction same-sex marriage, ordain gay ministers, and often participate in interfaith communities. (In fact, according to a Pew Research Center Survey, 62% of white mainline Protestants support same-sex marriage.)
I’m not suggesting that this represents Christianity everywhere in America. Clearly and sadly it does not. And I’m not saying that the topics tackled in this book aren’t important. But I came away with the impression that John Pavlovitz believes that the Christian church overwhelmingly endorses bigotry and a small table. It left me feeling that he was ignoring what is happening in mainstream Christianity, choosing instead to foster the same biased (or uninformed) image of Christian churches that the media promotes (as it focuses on the Christian right and pretty much ignores the progressive voices among Christians). I suspect that it’s because this other Christian demographic doesn’t fit his narrative. Or maybe it doesn’t fit his self-image as some sort of pioneer in the movement to build a more inclusive church. Alternatively, he may be simply ignorant of what is occurring outside of his own experience in southern evangelical churches. (Truthfully, it’s hard to know what exactly his experience is or even if he is actually an ordained minister since he is extraordinarily secretive about his background.)
I’m glad that Pavlovitz is tackling these issues. But I wish he had pointed out that others are doing the same and that there are many, many churches that are working hard to create a bigger table. At best, his perspective comes across as naïve and uninformed. At worst, it seems arrogant.
October 25, 2017
I have been following John Pavlovitz on social media for about a year now. His framing of Christianity is about as close as I feel comfortable to the organized church.
I underlined a lot in his book, something I haven’t done since graduate school.
Those that know me know that my basic world view is WITT (we’re in this together), rather than YOYO (you’re on your own). Pavlovitz’ vision is very much WITT, and can be appreciated without religion at all, which seems to be a problem for some readers. I found it an asset.
I underlined a lot in his book, something I haven’t done since graduate school.
Those that know me know that my basic world view is WITT (we’re in this together), rather than YOYO (you’re on your own). Pavlovitz’ vision is very much WITT, and can be appreciated without religion at all, which seems to be a problem for some readers. I found it an asset.
September 13, 2017
This is an amazing book. Watch for my review at my blogs, An Orientation of Heart, Seeing What's Invisible (at ourpresbytery.org) and an upcoming edition of Englewood Review of Books.
December 20, 2017
John Pavlovitz is a guy with a blog, a frequent contributor to the Huffington Post, and a pastor with twenty-some years of ministry experience. His blog is called "Stuff That Needs To Be Said" and there he posts whatever he thinks needs saying. This includes posts which advocate justice and diversity, posts that wrestle with faith and what it means for progressives, like him, to follow Jesus, and posts critiquing the white evangelical support of Donald Trump and the GOP.
A Bigger Table: Building Messy, Authentic and Hopeful Spiritual Community is Pavalovitz's first book. In it, he chronicles his journey towards progressive Christianity and becoming an LGBTQ ally, he casts a vision for a more hospitable 'big table' faith and describes some the challenges he's encountered along the way.
The Book unfolds in three parts. Part 1, describes Pavlovitz's spiritual journey, both to the Christian faith and to 'a bigger table.' Pavlovitz tells about how he learned to care about LGBTQ folk and racial justice. But he also describes his failure to speak prophetically (or even honestly) in his conservative church context where deviation from the tradition (or even voting Democrat) was viewed as a threat. Eventually, Pavlovitz learns to speak with his own authentic voice. This gets him fired. This furthered his faith de-construction and helped him to move toward a more activist, generous and inclusive faith.
Part 2 is about vision-casting. Here, Pavlovitz describes how Jesus set the table for diversity and inclusion of those on the margins, and the non-negotiable four legs of the table (radical hospitality, authenticity, diversity, and relational community). Part 3 is a hodgepodge of biblical and theological reflections, anecdotes from Pavlovitz's work forming and encouraging diverse communities and struggles of friends, and his conversations with people who responded or reacted to certain blog posts of his.
I liked a lot of things about this book. Most of all, I enjoyed hearing about Pavlovitz faith journey, his struggles with church and his desire for authentic community. Anyone who has been at loggerheads with the church and has felt unheard or unaffirmed, regardless of whether you agree with Pavlovitz on every point, will find things in his story relatable. I've been a pastor at a church more conservative than I. I got fired. Our stories are different, but it is hard for me not also find myself in his journey.
Secondly, when Pavlovitz is describing the bigger, more welcoming table, he can be breathtakingly winsome. There are several passages I have underlined, that I think are really quite stunning. Here are a few favorite passages, each illuminating the struggle and gift of authentic, welcoming community:
Friend, the heart of the bigger table is the realization that we don't have to share someone's experience to respect their road. As we move beyond the lazy theology and easy caricatures that seek to remove any gray from people's lives, we can meet them in that grayness, right where they are, without demanding they become something else in order to earn proximity to us or to a God who loves them dearly. Just as was true in the life and ministry of Jesus. real love is not contingent upon alteration; it simply is. There is no earning of fellowship or deserving of closeness; there is only the invitation itself and the joy that comes when you are fully seen and heard. (18-19)
On the hard parts of our journey, struggling with church, and counting the cost:
When the conflicts in our spiritual journey become too profound, something eventually has to give if we want to find a place of peace and rest the writer of the Twenty-third Psalm speaks of. There is often a steep price to pay to be the more authentic version of ourselves. The prophets and disciples and the early Christians understood this, but we've been conditioned to believe we can have our religious convictions with little or no alteration to our daily existence. But the truth is real spirituality is usually costly. Many followers of Jesus end up learning this not from the world outside the Church but from our faith tradition itself. We end up choosing Jesus and losing our religion; finding proximity to him creates distance from others. If you seek to expand the table you're going to find yourself in a tough spot. The truth may not get you fired. (Although it might). (52).
Again:
Friend, this is what it means to be the people of the bigger table: to look for the threads that might tie us together and to believe that these are more powerful than we imagine. This is the only future the Church really has. Disparate people will not be brought together through a denomination or a pastor or by anything the institutional church can offer. We know that now. These were useful for a time, but they are exercise in diminishing returns. The Church will thrive only to the degree it is willing to be out making space for a greater swath of humanity and by recognizing the redemptive power of relationships. (62-63)
I appreciated his call for diversity and the emphasis he places on radical hospitality. I think hospitality—the welcome of God—is the gospel. Too often approaches to mission, and ministry are decidedly exclusive and unwelcoming. God is love. Our love is too often lost in translation. I think it is crucial we create contexts (tables) where people with different understandings and convictions can gather and talk. This is the kind of big table Christianity Pavlovitz is talking about. When it happens, it may be awkward and uncomfortable, but the Spirit hovers over the chaos and it can be really beautiful.
However, I am not always certain that Pavlovitz always lives up to the principles of the bigger table. I follow him on social media and resonate with him on a lot of critiques of Trumpism, the alt-right, GOP politics and White Evangelicals. He has strong words for them, because of ways their vision of the world marginalizes and excludes others and doesn't allow them have a place at the table. Yet, some of what Pavlovitz says online I find way more combative than it needs to be. He has tweeted that Foxnews employees aren't even human, told white evangelicals they are no longer Christian (because of their Trump support) and has a blog post up about why he hates Trump and is okay with hating him. Rhetoric like that sounds more like fencing a table than building a bigger one (I think Pavlovitz would describe it more as keeping the oppressors at bay and excluding the excluders).
Trust me, I get the anger. But I worry that progressive evangelicals are simply refashioning legalism in their own image, becoming just as judgmental and unwilling to dialogue as they accuse the Right of being. Thankfully, I found this book more generous with conservatives than I sometimes find Pavlovitz's online presence.
I give this book four stars. I don't agree on everything Pavlovitz says and wish, in turns, that he was both more substantive in his theology, and more generous with those he disagrees with. But he is winsome, heartfelt, and a good story-teller, trying to welcome others the way Jesus did. -★★★★
Notice of material connection: I received a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.
A Bigger Table: Building Messy, Authentic and Hopeful Spiritual Community is Pavalovitz's first book. In it, he chronicles his journey towards progressive Christianity and becoming an LGBTQ ally, he casts a vision for a more hospitable 'big table' faith and describes some the challenges he's encountered along the way.
The Book unfolds in three parts. Part 1, describes Pavlovitz's spiritual journey, both to the Christian faith and to 'a bigger table.' Pavlovitz tells about how he learned to care about LGBTQ folk and racial justice. But he also describes his failure to speak prophetically (or even honestly) in his conservative church context where deviation from the tradition (or even voting Democrat) was viewed as a threat. Eventually, Pavlovitz learns to speak with his own authentic voice. This gets him fired. This furthered his faith de-construction and helped him to move toward a more activist, generous and inclusive faith.
Part 2 is about vision-casting. Here, Pavlovitz describes how Jesus set the table for diversity and inclusion of those on the margins, and the non-negotiable four legs of the table (radical hospitality, authenticity, diversity, and relational community). Part 3 is a hodgepodge of biblical and theological reflections, anecdotes from Pavlovitz's work forming and encouraging diverse communities and struggles of friends, and his conversations with people who responded or reacted to certain blog posts of his.
I liked a lot of things about this book. Most of all, I enjoyed hearing about Pavlovitz faith journey, his struggles with church and his desire for authentic community. Anyone who has been at loggerheads with the church and has felt unheard or unaffirmed, regardless of whether you agree with Pavlovitz on every point, will find things in his story relatable. I've been a pastor at a church more conservative than I. I got fired. Our stories are different, but it is hard for me not also find myself in his journey.
Secondly, when Pavlovitz is describing the bigger, more welcoming table, he can be breathtakingly winsome. There are several passages I have underlined, that I think are really quite stunning. Here are a few favorite passages, each illuminating the struggle and gift of authentic, welcoming community:
Friend, the heart of the bigger table is the realization that we don't have to share someone's experience to respect their road. As we move beyond the lazy theology and easy caricatures that seek to remove any gray from people's lives, we can meet them in that grayness, right where they are, without demanding they become something else in order to earn proximity to us or to a God who loves them dearly. Just as was true in the life and ministry of Jesus. real love is not contingent upon alteration; it simply is. There is no earning of fellowship or deserving of closeness; there is only the invitation itself and the joy that comes when you are fully seen and heard. (18-19)
On the hard parts of our journey, struggling with church, and counting the cost:
When the conflicts in our spiritual journey become too profound, something eventually has to give if we want to find a place of peace and rest the writer of the Twenty-third Psalm speaks of. There is often a steep price to pay to be the more authentic version of ourselves. The prophets and disciples and the early Christians understood this, but we've been conditioned to believe we can have our religious convictions with little or no alteration to our daily existence. But the truth is real spirituality is usually costly. Many followers of Jesus end up learning this not from the world outside the Church but from our faith tradition itself. We end up choosing Jesus and losing our religion; finding proximity to him creates distance from others. If you seek to expand the table you're going to find yourself in a tough spot. The truth may not get you fired. (Although it might). (52).
Again:
Friend, this is what it means to be the people of the bigger table: to look for the threads that might tie us together and to believe that these are more powerful than we imagine. This is the only future the Church really has. Disparate people will not be brought together through a denomination or a pastor or by anything the institutional church can offer. We know that now. These were useful for a time, but they are exercise in diminishing returns. The Church will thrive only to the degree it is willing to be out making space for a greater swath of humanity and by recognizing the redemptive power of relationships. (62-63)
I appreciated his call for diversity and the emphasis he places on radical hospitality. I think hospitality—the welcome of God—is the gospel. Too often approaches to mission, and ministry are decidedly exclusive and unwelcoming. God is love. Our love is too often lost in translation. I think it is crucial we create contexts (tables) where people with different understandings and convictions can gather and talk. This is the kind of big table Christianity Pavlovitz is talking about. When it happens, it may be awkward and uncomfortable, but the Spirit hovers over the chaos and it can be really beautiful.
However, I am not always certain that Pavlovitz always lives up to the principles of the bigger table. I follow him on social media and resonate with him on a lot of critiques of Trumpism, the alt-right, GOP politics and White Evangelicals. He has strong words for them, because of ways their vision of the world marginalizes and excludes others and doesn't allow them have a place at the table. Yet, some of what Pavlovitz says online I find way more combative than it needs to be. He has tweeted that Foxnews employees aren't even human, told white evangelicals they are no longer Christian (because of their Trump support) and has a blog post up about why he hates Trump and is okay with hating him. Rhetoric like that sounds more like fencing a table than building a bigger one (I think Pavlovitz would describe it more as keeping the oppressors at bay and excluding the excluders).
Trust me, I get the anger. But I worry that progressive evangelicals are simply refashioning legalism in their own image, becoming just as judgmental and unwilling to dialogue as they accuse the Right of being. Thankfully, I found this book more generous with conservatives than I sometimes find Pavlovitz's online presence.
I give this book four stars. I don't agree on everything Pavlovitz says and wish, in turns, that he was both more substantive in his theology, and more generous with those he disagrees with. But he is winsome, heartfelt, and a good story-teller, trying to welcome others the way Jesus did. -★★★★
Notice of material connection: I received a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.
January 29, 2021
Over the past several years my friend Janet and I have had a book club of two, choosing a book to discuss mostly while walking my dog Ruby. While not always, the books have mostly been about faith or Bible studies.
Bigger Table dovetails nicely with two other books we read over the last two years. First Take this Bread: A radical Conversion, then Liturgy of the Ordinary and now Bigger Table.
The Author, John Pavlovitz, had a crisis of faith as a youth pastor, frustrated by the smallness of American Christianity’s table and of the concept of that God would deny a seat to those we frequently deem not worthy of welcome. He shares his vision of a more radically inclusive table and I found the book both inspirational and freeing.
Bigger Table dovetails nicely with two other books we read over the last two years. First Take this Bread: A radical Conversion, then Liturgy of the Ordinary and now Bigger Table.
The Author, John Pavlovitz, had a crisis of faith as a youth pastor, frustrated by the smallness of American Christianity’s table and of the concept of that God would deny a seat to those we frequently deem not worthy of welcome. He shares his vision of a more radically inclusive table and I found the book both inspirational and freeing.
March 26, 2023
"This book isn't about battling dogmas, it isn't about competing faith traditions, and it isn't about opposing politics. This book is about humanity."
Book club read! Really enjoyed this one. With any faith-based book I try to sift through it to see what to hold on to and what to just let go, and there was lots to munch on here. Pavlovitz focuses on what he calls the "four non-negotiable 'legs' of the table: hospitality, authenticity, diversity and relationship". Inviting people to build community with these pillars at the heart.
"We don't use our theology as a weapon; we allow it to mold us into people who really see people."
Book club read! Really enjoyed this one. With any faith-based book I try to sift through it to see what to hold on to and what to just let go, and there was lots to munch on here. Pavlovitz focuses on what he calls the "four non-negotiable 'legs' of the table: hospitality, authenticity, diversity and relationship". Inviting people to build community with these pillars at the heart.
"We don't use our theology as a weapon; we allow it to mold us into people who really see people."
June 3, 2020
Thank you Pastor John for putting into words what I've kept within my heart. I completely enjoyed this book and can't wait to share it. The calling to be brave to pastors at the end of the book is something that I believe we should all be, especially me. I'm trying to be the one who speaks out and stands up for the right thing, but it is hard and so much drowns out my feeble intentions. I will do better. I will do more to establish a table and to commit to growing it bigger with every action.
September 21, 2018
This is another one of those books I wish I had been able to read several years ago when I was really freaking out about how deep the rabbit hole would go for me... I love this quote from the book:
"I hadn't yet summoned the courage to face the most terrifying questions Christians can ever ask themselves: "if this small part of my faith that I always believed to be true no longer is, what else might not be true?" and "If the Bible doesn't say what I'd grown up believing it says in these handful of verses, where else have I gotten it wrong?" It begins to feel as though those questions themselves will destroy your faith for good, when in reality they should be welcome intrusions. Doubt isn't the sign of a dead faith, not necessarily even of a sickly one. It's often the sign of a faith that is allowing itself to be tested, one that is brave enough to see if it can hold up under stress. The worst thing you can do in those seasons of uncertainty is to pile upon your already burdened shoulders guilt for the mere fact that the wavering exists. God is more than big enough to withstand the weight of your vacillating belief, your part-time skepticism, and even your full-blown faith crises. We've been taught that such things are the antithesis of belief, usually by those who are afraid to be transparent about their own instability. God can handle your wavering, friend, even if those around you can't." (John Pavlovitz, 44)
I give it 3 stars because I like the book, I like the message of the book, but there's not enough meat to it or content to warrant a repeat reading.
Here are some other quotes I liked:
“The heart of the bigger table is the realization that we don't have to share someone's experience to respect their road. As we move beyond the lazy theology and easy caricatures that seek to remove any gray from people's lives, we can meet them in that grayness, right where they are, without demanding they become something else in order to earn proximity to us or to a God who loves them dearly. Just as was true in the life and ministry of Jesus. Real love is not contingent upon alteration; it simply is. There is no earning of fellowship or deserving of closeness; there is only the invitation itself and the joy that comes when you are fully seen and heard.” (18-19)
“The truth is real spirituality is usually costly. Many followers of Jesus end up learning this not from the world outside the Church but from our faith tradition itself. We end up choosing Jesus and losing our religion; finding proximity to him creates distance from others. If you seek to expand the table you're going to find yourself in a tough spot. The truth may not get you fired. (Although it might).” (52).
“This is what it means to be the people of the bigger table: to look for the threads that might tie us together and to believe that these are more powerful than we imagine. This is the only future the Church really has. Disparate people will not be brought together through a denomination or a pastor or by anything the institutional church can offer. We know that now. These were useful for a time, but they are an exercise in diminishing returns. The Church will thrive only to the degree it is willing to be out making space for a greater swath of humanity and by recognizing the redemptive power of relationships. (62-63)
This sounds all too familiar:
“Frame the spiritual journey as a stark good-vs.-evil battle of warring sides long enough and you’ll eventually see the Church and those around you in the same way too. You’ll begin to filter the world through the lens of conflict. Everything becomes a threat to the family; everyone becomes a potential enemy. Fear becomes the engine that drives the whole thing. When this happens, your default response to people who are different or who challenge you can turn from compassion to contempt. You become less like God and more like the Godfather. In those times, instead of being a tool to fit your heart for invitation, faith can become a weapon to defend yourself against the encroaching sinners threatening God’s people—whom we conveniently always consider ourselves among. Religion becomes a cold, cruel distance maker, pushing from the table people who aren’t part of the brotherhood and don’t march in lockstep with the others.” (28)
“I knew without blinking that I didn't have to choose between loving God and loving my brother - and he didn't have to choose between being gay and being adored by God.” (17)
"I hadn't yet summoned the courage to face the most terrifying questions Christians can ever ask themselves: "if this small part of my faith that I always believed to be true no longer is, what else might not be true?" and "If the Bible doesn't say what I'd grown up believing it says in these handful of verses, where else have I gotten it wrong?" It begins to feel as though those questions themselves will destroy your faith for good, when in reality they should be welcome intrusions. Doubt isn't the sign of a dead faith, not necessarily even of a sickly one. It's often the sign of a faith that is allowing itself to be tested, one that is brave enough to see if it can hold up under stress. The worst thing you can do in those seasons of uncertainty is to pile upon your already burdened shoulders guilt for the mere fact that the wavering exists. God is more than big enough to withstand the weight of your vacillating belief, your part-time skepticism, and even your full-blown faith crises. We've been taught that such things are the antithesis of belief, usually by those who are afraid to be transparent about their own instability. God can handle your wavering, friend, even if those around you can't." (John Pavlovitz, 44)
I give it 3 stars because I like the book, I like the message of the book, but there's not enough meat to it or content to warrant a repeat reading.
Here are some other quotes I liked:
“The heart of the bigger table is the realization that we don't have to share someone's experience to respect their road. As we move beyond the lazy theology and easy caricatures that seek to remove any gray from people's lives, we can meet them in that grayness, right where they are, without demanding they become something else in order to earn proximity to us or to a God who loves them dearly. Just as was true in the life and ministry of Jesus. Real love is not contingent upon alteration; it simply is. There is no earning of fellowship or deserving of closeness; there is only the invitation itself and the joy that comes when you are fully seen and heard.” (18-19)
“The truth is real spirituality is usually costly. Many followers of Jesus end up learning this not from the world outside the Church but from our faith tradition itself. We end up choosing Jesus and losing our religion; finding proximity to him creates distance from others. If you seek to expand the table you're going to find yourself in a tough spot. The truth may not get you fired. (Although it might).” (52).
“This is what it means to be the people of the bigger table: to look for the threads that might tie us together and to believe that these are more powerful than we imagine. This is the only future the Church really has. Disparate people will not be brought together through a denomination or a pastor or by anything the institutional church can offer. We know that now. These were useful for a time, but they are an exercise in diminishing returns. The Church will thrive only to the degree it is willing to be out making space for a greater swath of humanity and by recognizing the redemptive power of relationships. (62-63)
This sounds all too familiar:
“Frame the spiritual journey as a stark good-vs.-evil battle of warring sides long enough and you’ll eventually see the Church and those around you in the same way too. You’ll begin to filter the world through the lens of conflict. Everything becomes a threat to the family; everyone becomes a potential enemy. Fear becomes the engine that drives the whole thing. When this happens, your default response to people who are different or who challenge you can turn from compassion to contempt. You become less like God and more like the Godfather. In those times, instead of being a tool to fit your heart for invitation, faith can become a weapon to defend yourself against the encroaching sinners threatening God’s people—whom we conveniently always consider ourselves among. Religion becomes a cold, cruel distance maker, pushing from the table people who aren’t part of the brotherhood and don’t march in lockstep with the others.” (28)
“I knew without blinking that I didn't have to choose between loving God and loving my brother - and he didn't have to choose between being gay and being adored by God.” (17)
November 16, 2017
Set Another Place!
From Mark 14, "While Jesus was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table..." Pavlovitz observes, "Chances are you know what it's like to be made the leper in the gathering of God's people. You've been pushed to the periphery because of some portion of your truth. You've been penalized for a season of your story. Or perhaps you've disconnected from those you deem unclean or unworthy or beyond redemption. Either side of this separation is equally damaging."
Ready for the upcoming major dinner celebrations of Thanksgiving Day USA and Christmas all over the world, maybe {hopefully} just in the nick of time for a planet that's becoming increasingly divided by institutional and individual politics, by ethnicity, class, culture, and fear, John Pavlovitz testifies to his own ever-expanding awareness of human diversity, his conviction God calls us to make a place at our table for all comers. His story begins in New York state where almost everyone looked the same, acted the same, ate the same food. Art school in Philadelphia and other experiences in the City of Brotherly Love opened the author's eyes and his heart to ways diversity of every kind celebrates God's presence and creativity—I'd strongly guess his parents' expansive love was the starting point. Pastor John tells stories of his encounters with differences, his occasional attempts to compromise maybe a little too much in order to stay employed.
It's commonplace that school in a different city or even in a different section of the same city can be a broadening experience for young people. Spending a year of school or service (Peace Corps, church mission, etc.) abroad in a different county and culture can change humans of any age! I've long been convinced making people aware of different styles of people, different ways of doing everything, different foods, and different music is one of the true gifts of a still growing internet. As long as you have a phone or a nearby library with computers, you'll see more and learn things you otherwise wouldn't have. Books always have been there (of course), but too many people never even open a book after HS graduation! A Bigger Table? Haven't you noticed how sharing a meal usually becomes a leveling experience that blurs what you thought were important differences? You know how people often open up about what's been happening as soon as their stomachs start to fill up? Because humans require food for survival—and almost as much, they need the belongingness and safe haven of community. Not simply for health, but for plain survival, too. So please move over a little, set another place, pull up a stair or share your chair!
Along your way, why not claim Pavlovitz' dream that everyone in the church and outside the church have the sublime experience of "Doing Church" as Jesus of Nazareth did: inviting, including, feeding, and celebrating all passerby, so everyone inside, and on the outside of the church will know how it feels to welcome and to be welcomed into a messy, hope-filled community.
From Mark 14, "While Jesus was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table..." Pavlovitz observes, "Chances are you know what it's like to be made the leper in the gathering of God's people. You've been pushed to the periphery because of some portion of your truth. You've been penalized for a season of your story. Or perhaps you've disconnected from those you deem unclean or unworthy or beyond redemption. Either side of this separation is equally damaging."
Ready for the upcoming major dinner celebrations of Thanksgiving Day USA and Christmas all over the world, maybe {hopefully} just in the nick of time for a planet that's becoming increasingly divided by institutional and individual politics, by ethnicity, class, culture, and fear, John Pavlovitz testifies to his own ever-expanding awareness of human diversity, his conviction God calls us to make a place at our table for all comers. His story begins in New York state where almost everyone looked the same, acted the same, ate the same food. Art school in Philadelphia and other experiences in the City of Brotherly Love opened the author's eyes and his heart to ways diversity of every kind celebrates God's presence and creativity—I'd strongly guess his parents' expansive love was the starting point. Pastor John tells stories of his encounters with differences, his occasional attempts to compromise maybe a little too much in order to stay employed.
It's commonplace that school in a different city or even in a different section of the same city can be a broadening experience for young people. Spending a year of school or service (Peace Corps, church mission, etc.) abroad in a different county and culture can change humans of any age! I've long been convinced making people aware of different styles of people, different ways of doing everything, different foods, and different music is one of the true gifts of a still growing internet. As long as you have a phone or a nearby library with computers, you'll see more and learn things you otherwise wouldn't have. Books always have been there (of course), but too many people never even open a book after HS graduation! A Bigger Table? Haven't you noticed how sharing a meal usually becomes a leveling experience that blurs what you thought were important differences? You know how people often open up about what's been happening as soon as their stomachs start to fill up? Because humans require food for survival—and almost as much, they need the belongingness and safe haven of community. Not simply for health, but for plain survival, too. So please move over a little, set another place, pull up a stair or share your chair!
Along your way, why not claim Pavlovitz' dream that everyone in the church and outside the church have the sublime experience of "Doing Church" as Jesus of Nazareth did: inviting, including, feeding, and celebrating all passerby, so everyone inside, and on the outside of the church will know how it feels to welcome and to be welcomed into a messy, hope-filled community.
June 19, 2017
THIS book speaks for and to the followers of Christ who have been uneasy about modern Christianity, who want to truly and authentically serve and love in faith without the political and societal tags. You can read the publisher's description to get a really well done summary; I'm not good at that and reviews that do the same thing seem redundant at best. What I'm going to say is that if you're disillusioned with Christianity and the Church, this would be a good book to read and buy extra copies of. If you've been avoiding going to church because it seems like all glossy show and people who have it together, that believers are exclusionary and (I hate this word, but it's universal, so..."intolerant") in the name of God, this book is refreshing and worth your time. Just don't read it on an airplane because you MAY find yourself wanting to read passages aloud to the complete stranger in the seat next to you. They won't understand. It might get awkward.
I didn't agree with everything in it, of course, but it was a thoughtful, respectful book and I'd love to get in a good discussion over it. Thank you Goodreads for a quality give-away!
I didn't agree with everything in it, of course, but it was a thoughtful, respectful book and I'd love to get in a good discussion over it. Thank you Goodreads for a quality give-away!
September 7, 2019
"Friend, the heart of the bigger table is the realization that we don't have to share someone's experience to respect their road. As we move beyond the lazy theology and easy caricatures that seek to remove any grey from people's lives, we can meet them in that grayness, right where they are, without demanding they become something else in order to earn proximity to us or to a God who loves them deeply. Just as was true in the life and ministry of Jesus, real love is not contingent upon alteration; it simply is." – page 18
If you are embedded in the thought-leadership space curated by the Christian Left, then chances are good that you know of John Pavlovitz. Pavlovitz is a pastor and author who, after experiencing a bit of a Damascus moment with regard to diversity, acceptance, and radical Christian hospitality, left the mainstream ministry circuit to preach the gospel of "a bigger table." In short, he's wagered everything on the belief that authentic Christian experience is rooted in inclusion, not exclusion – that the more seats we cram under our spiritual table, the more Christ-like we become.
"Jesus feeds people. That's what he does. And as striking as what he does, equally revelatory is what he doesn't do here [referring to the feeding of the 5,000]. There's no alter call, no spiritual gifts assessment, no membership class, no moral screening, no litmus test to identify everyone's theology and to identify those worthy enough to earn a seat at the table. Their hunger and Jesus' love for them alone, nothing else, made them worthy. This is a serious gut check for us." – pages 61-62
Of course, mainstream Christianity right now is undergoing a crisis of exclusion – particularly with regard to the LGBTQ+ community. My own denomination – the United Methodists – is tearing itself apart on the matter, with some extremely conservative cliques questioning the very worthiness of people who do not conform to their own narrow definitions of gender and sexual normality.
"The Church's resistance to and persecution of gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and questioning men and women is a push against the Holy Spirit because it runs in direct opposition to the heart of Jesus as reflected in the Gospel biographies and the book of Acts. It isn't just shrinking the table: it's walling off the table from those who desire to be present. And the answer isn't offering some tentative, heavily conditioned token tolerance as a compromise. (If that were the case, Jesus' table gatherings would have been very different.) It is to be fully obedient to Jesus' command to love one another as oneself." – page 139
Pavlovitz wasn't always so progressive on this topic. He grew up in a fairly conservative environment and more-or-less parroted the popular ideology of the pre-Millennial era: that homosexuality was very clearly and explicitly prohibited in the Scriptures and that anyone identifying as such would have to make some fundamental concessions to fully experience the love of God and acceptance in the church. I know that position well – because I once shared it, too.
I, too, grew up in a conservative enclave, in a conservative part of the country, in small Bible Belt churches, in conservative Christian schools. We were taught that homosexuality was a conscious choice, that it was very clearly forbidden in the Scriptures, that the Scriptures were completely inerrant, and that none of these matters were up for debate. I accepted these statements as truth.
Of course, had any of us engaged the LGBTQ+ community in conversation and made the effort to listen, we'd have quickly understood that, no, being gay was not a choice. A mere skimming of the first two chapters of the first book of the Bible would have revealed dueling creation narratives between chapters 1 and 2 – rendering Scripture inerrancy moot. Upon closer examination of the passages of Scripture that reference homosexuality, we clearly see condemnation of sexual violence or lack of consent, not necessarily of same sex relationships. Even so, there are similar Old Testament condemnations against shellfish and wearing clothing of made various fabrics – to which Christians pay no heed.
As these realizations dawned on me, my views gradually shifted from "not up for debate," to tolerance, to acceptance, to full-throated support, to serving as an ally for the LGBTQ+ community.
"One of the things you learn when you walk down the path of being an ally is that people aren't LGBTQ based on the consent you give or don't give to them, the approval you provide or withhold. That's not how gender identity and sexual orientation work. Your acceptance doesn't give people permission to be anything. It simply allows them to be fully authentic in your presence and to feel loved as they are. It secures people in those places where they should feel fully secured: in their families and friendships and workplaces and churches. If you don't think you have LGBTQ family members, co-workers, classmates, and friends right now, you may want to ask yourself if that's because you've created an environment in which they would be afraid to share it even if they were." – page 18
The hope – my hope – is that you will be open to reading John's book and open to challenging some of things you may think are challengeable. After all, you and I are not the church's bouncers. We are not God's gatekeepers. We're not the ones who dole out salvation or make judgement calls on the spiritual and tangible worthiness of any individual. Our job is simply to emulate the actions and live out the teachings of Christ. Doing so requires more seats around the table, not less.
"Church, the world doesn't need more talking from us ... the world needs the goodness of God incarnated in the flesh of the people who claim to know this good God. As they meet us, they need to come face-to-face with radical welcome, with unconditional love, with counterintuitive forgiveness. They need to experience all of this in our individual lives and in the church." – page 106
If you are embedded in the thought-leadership space curated by the Christian Left, then chances are good that you know of John Pavlovitz. Pavlovitz is a pastor and author who, after experiencing a bit of a Damascus moment with regard to diversity, acceptance, and radical Christian hospitality, left the mainstream ministry circuit to preach the gospel of "a bigger table." In short, he's wagered everything on the belief that authentic Christian experience is rooted in inclusion, not exclusion – that the more seats we cram under our spiritual table, the more Christ-like we become.
"Jesus feeds people. That's what he does. And as striking as what he does, equally revelatory is what he doesn't do here [referring to the feeding of the 5,000]. There's no alter call, no spiritual gifts assessment, no membership class, no moral screening, no litmus test to identify everyone's theology and to identify those worthy enough to earn a seat at the table. Their hunger and Jesus' love for them alone, nothing else, made them worthy. This is a serious gut check for us." – pages 61-62
Of course, mainstream Christianity right now is undergoing a crisis of exclusion – particularly with regard to the LGBTQ+ community. My own denomination – the United Methodists – is tearing itself apart on the matter, with some extremely conservative cliques questioning the very worthiness of people who do not conform to their own narrow definitions of gender and sexual normality.
"The Church's resistance to and persecution of gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and questioning men and women is a push against the Holy Spirit because it runs in direct opposition to the heart of Jesus as reflected in the Gospel biographies and the book of Acts. It isn't just shrinking the table: it's walling off the table from those who desire to be present. And the answer isn't offering some tentative, heavily conditioned token tolerance as a compromise. (If that were the case, Jesus' table gatherings would have been very different.) It is to be fully obedient to Jesus' command to love one another as oneself." – page 139
Pavlovitz wasn't always so progressive on this topic. He grew up in a fairly conservative environment and more-or-less parroted the popular ideology of the pre-Millennial era: that homosexuality was very clearly and explicitly prohibited in the Scriptures and that anyone identifying as such would have to make some fundamental concessions to fully experience the love of God and acceptance in the church. I know that position well – because I once shared it, too.
I, too, grew up in a conservative enclave, in a conservative part of the country, in small Bible Belt churches, in conservative Christian schools. We were taught that homosexuality was a conscious choice, that it was very clearly forbidden in the Scriptures, that the Scriptures were completely inerrant, and that none of these matters were up for debate. I accepted these statements as truth.
Of course, had any of us engaged the LGBTQ+ community in conversation and made the effort to listen, we'd have quickly understood that, no, being gay was not a choice. A mere skimming of the first two chapters of the first book of the Bible would have revealed dueling creation narratives between chapters 1 and 2 – rendering Scripture inerrancy moot. Upon closer examination of the passages of Scripture that reference homosexuality, we clearly see condemnation of sexual violence or lack of consent, not necessarily of same sex relationships. Even so, there are similar Old Testament condemnations against shellfish and wearing clothing of made various fabrics – to which Christians pay no heed.
As these realizations dawned on me, my views gradually shifted from "not up for debate," to tolerance, to acceptance, to full-throated support, to serving as an ally for the LGBTQ+ community.
"One of the things you learn when you walk down the path of being an ally is that people aren't LGBTQ based on the consent you give or don't give to them, the approval you provide or withhold. That's not how gender identity and sexual orientation work. Your acceptance doesn't give people permission to be anything. It simply allows them to be fully authentic in your presence and to feel loved as they are. It secures people in those places where they should feel fully secured: in their families and friendships and workplaces and churches. If you don't think you have LGBTQ family members, co-workers, classmates, and friends right now, you may want to ask yourself if that's because you've created an environment in which they would be afraid to share it even if they were." – page 18
The hope – my hope – is that you will be open to reading John's book and open to challenging some of things you may think are challengeable. After all, you and I are not the church's bouncers. We are not God's gatekeepers. We're not the ones who dole out salvation or make judgement calls on the spiritual and tangible worthiness of any individual. Our job is simply to emulate the actions and live out the teachings of Christ. Doing so requires more seats around the table, not less.
"Church, the world doesn't need more talking from us ... the world needs the goodness of God incarnated in the flesh of the people who claim to know this good God. As they meet us, they need to come face-to-face with radical welcome, with unconditional love, with counterintuitive forgiveness. They need to experience all of this in our individual lives and in the church." – page 106
August 30, 2019
I'm only sorry that I didn't read this book way back when I received an advance copy! Though I've become familiar with the author through his presence on social media, I had not prioritized the book. Now I see certain parallels in our experiences as pastors seeking a more open, gracious, relational, Jesus-like embodiment of church - of the costs of pursuing this and the deep gifts for self, ministry, and, dare I say it, for broader communities and the world!
I anticipate inviting folks in the congregation I serve to read and think together through this text, as well as continuing to live into the four 'nonnegotiable "legs" of the table (hospitality, authenticity, diversity, relationship).' So much good stuff here - including renewed inspiration: "Pastor, be brave."
I anticipate inviting folks in the congregation I serve to read and think together through this text, as well as continuing to live into the four 'nonnegotiable "legs" of the table (hospitality, authenticity, diversity, relationship).' So much good stuff here - including renewed inspiration: "Pastor, be brave."
March 10, 2018
Reviewed for THC Reviews
I can’t recall exactly how or when John Pavlovitz came to my attention, but I’ve been following his blog for a while now. His posts usually always speak to me, so when I saw that he’d written a book, I immediately put it on my TBR list. As luck would have it, A Bigger Table also happened to be on my pastor’s reading list, and since she also leads our church book club, it was agreed that it would become our latest read. For those who might be familiar with the author’s blog, the tone of the book is a little different. In his blog posts, he usually addresses timely and topical issues, while this book covers a broader spectrum. In it he discusses the need for Christians to expand their table to be more inclusive of people from varied backgrounds and life experiences, rather than shrinking it to exclude them. Far too many people, particularly from the LGBTQ community, have been left behind by Christian worship services, if not outright driven away, so the author advocates that it’s time we change that. And I couldn’t agree more.
Throughout A Bigger Table, Mr. Pavlovitz sheds light on this topic by relating stories from his own life and the lives of those he’s pastored or mentored along the way. He expresses very eloquently how he went from being a smaller table kind of Christian to his coming to believe in the more expansive table. I felt this added a very personal element to the book that solidifies the humanity of his stance in a way that perhaps simply stating his convictions might not. There are many people along the way who’ve helped to shaped his beliefs and bring him to the conclusions he’s come to. His message that Jesus’ table is one that is big enough for all of us is a very welcome and much-needed one. I really liked the way that he framed the four marks of a bigger table as being radical hospitality, total authenticity, true diversity, and agenda-free community. Total authenticity is one aspect that really speaks to me, because I’ve often not felt this when in Christian community. Sometimes I think it’s OK to admit to having doubts or struggles, but many times, the church isn’t a safe place to express those things, when it should be. That’s where the agenda-free community comes in as well, because in my experience when those doubts are expressed, oftentimes the person expressing them is fed nothing but platitudes or bludgeoned with scripture (basically being fed an agenda) when more constructive dialogue is called for. It’s all a very fine line and one that I felt was extremely well articulated in this book.
As I read A Bigger Table, I heard echoes of a couple of past books we’ve read for our book club that might be of help to readers of this one who want to expand upon what Mr. Pavlovitz discusses. For starters, his chapter titled “Earthquakes and Aftershocks” talks about how we often think of our faith as relatively solid and compartmentalized when “in reality belief is more like a Jenga tower, a series of interconnected pieces that moves and shifts…,” where when one thing is shaken up, everything is, even though we may think otherwise. This part of the book reminds me of Peter Enns’ The Sin of Certainty, in which he explores what he terms the “uh-oh moment” in much more depth. Then there’s the overall message of the book about the Lord’s table and how it’s big enough for everyone that reminds me in some ways of Sarah Miles’ Take This Bread.
Overall, A Bigger Table was a very good book with an excellent message that I think more Christians should take to heart. I enjoyed reading it and agreed with what the author had to say. The only reason I marked off a star is because when reading Mr. Pavlovitz’s blog posts, they tend to be pretty succinct and easy to read, but this book tended to drag a little for me. His penchant for writing in exceedingly long block paragraphs didn’t help that. If anything it made the narrative feel much longer than it was. As a writer myself, I could see places where he could have broken them up and given the reader more white space, so that it wouldn’t have seemed so long, while still getting his point across in a more encapsulated way. IMHO, the editor should have done this, but it doesn’t really change the strong message the book contains. I keep coming back to the word authentic, which for me, was the takeaway buzz-word here. I think if people see us as being authentic in our faith then we’ll draw them in to that bigger table if we’re making room. I believe Jesus’ table is always big enough, but is ours?
I can’t recall exactly how or when John Pavlovitz came to my attention, but I’ve been following his blog for a while now. His posts usually always speak to me, so when I saw that he’d written a book, I immediately put it on my TBR list. As luck would have it, A Bigger Table also happened to be on my pastor’s reading list, and since she also leads our church book club, it was agreed that it would become our latest read. For those who might be familiar with the author’s blog, the tone of the book is a little different. In his blog posts, he usually addresses timely and topical issues, while this book covers a broader spectrum. In it he discusses the need for Christians to expand their table to be more inclusive of people from varied backgrounds and life experiences, rather than shrinking it to exclude them. Far too many people, particularly from the LGBTQ community, have been left behind by Christian worship services, if not outright driven away, so the author advocates that it’s time we change that. And I couldn’t agree more.
Throughout A Bigger Table, Mr. Pavlovitz sheds light on this topic by relating stories from his own life and the lives of those he’s pastored or mentored along the way. He expresses very eloquently how he went from being a smaller table kind of Christian to his coming to believe in the more expansive table. I felt this added a very personal element to the book that solidifies the humanity of his stance in a way that perhaps simply stating his convictions might not. There are many people along the way who’ve helped to shaped his beliefs and bring him to the conclusions he’s come to. His message that Jesus’ table is one that is big enough for all of us is a very welcome and much-needed one. I really liked the way that he framed the four marks of a bigger table as being radical hospitality, total authenticity, true diversity, and agenda-free community. Total authenticity is one aspect that really speaks to me, because I’ve often not felt this when in Christian community. Sometimes I think it’s OK to admit to having doubts or struggles, but many times, the church isn’t a safe place to express those things, when it should be. That’s where the agenda-free community comes in as well, because in my experience when those doubts are expressed, oftentimes the person expressing them is fed nothing but platitudes or bludgeoned with scripture (basically being fed an agenda) when more constructive dialogue is called for. It’s all a very fine line and one that I felt was extremely well articulated in this book.
As I read A Bigger Table, I heard echoes of a couple of past books we’ve read for our book club that might be of help to readers of this one who want to expand upon what Mr. Pavlovitz discusses. For starters, his chapter titled “Earthquakes and Aftershocks” talks about how we often think of our faith as relatively solid and compartmentalized when “in reality belief is more like a Jenga tower, a series of interconnected pieces that moves and shifts…,” where when one thing is shaken up, everything is, even though we may think otherwise. This part of the book reminds me of Peter Enns’ The Sin of Certainty, in which he explores what he terms the “uh-oh moment” in much more depth. Then there’s the overall message of the book about the Lord’s table and how it’s big enough for everyone that reminds me in some ways of Sarah Miles’ Take This Bread.
Overall, A Bigger Table was a very good book with an excellent message that I think more Christians should take to heart. I enjoyed reading it and agreed with what the author had to say. The only reason I marked off a star is because when reading Mr. Pavlovitz’s blog posts, they tend to be pretty succinct and easy to read, but this book tended to drag a little for me. His penchant for writing in exceedingly long block paragraphs didn’t help that. If anything it made the narrative feel much longer than it was. As a writer myself, I could see places where he could have broken them up and given the reader more white space, so that it wouldn’t have seemed so long, while still getting his point across in a more encapsulated way. IMHO, the editor should have done this, but it doesn’t really change the strong message the book contains. I keep coming back to the word authentic, which for me, was the takeaway buzz-word here. I think if people see us as being authentic in our faith then we’ll draw them in to that bigger table if we’re making room. I believe Jesus’ table is always big enough, but is ours?
November 2, 2017
A Bigger Table, as the title suggests, is about John's vision for a Church that is a much more diverse and inclusive place. He has conducted experiments in building "bigger table" communities, and to his credit he really seems to want inclusivity and diversity. It's easy to talk about diversity, but many of us have encounter some pretty small notions of diversity. The diversity John argues for is an across the spectrum diversity, not just theological but political, economic, social, and even has an interfaith quality to it. He asks us all to drop our preconceptions, and rightly points out that conservatives, moderates, and progressives all need to work on diversity issues. The book correctly identifies the primary task of building diversity as one of listening. What we need to do is start by hearing one another and feeling what it is like to be heard. I suspect that will change a lot of people's experience of the table.
While I believe John has laid a good foundation, it seems to me that the people who undertake this task will need to understand that transformation rarely happens over night. Our leaders need to be in the battle for the long haul, but I believe the rewards will be well worth it!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Speakeasy in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.
While I believe John has laid a good foundation, it seems to me that the people who undertake this task will need to understand that transformation rarely happens over night. Our leaders need to be in the battle for the long haul, but I believe the rewards will be well worth it!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Speakeasy in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.
May 2, 2019
Let’s be honest here. When I first started reading this book, I was like “this is not for me.” The book took off with a discussion about Donald Trump and I certainly did not want to get into politics. But, as I listened, my heart slowly started to shift.
***
As you listen to the audiobook or even read this book, you will realize that he is not trying to push his beliefs upon you. He’s trying to enlighten you with his story and what he learned. I feel at peace when I read this book. Something about this book made me want to listen.
***
This book changed my heart. It changed the way I pray. I didn’t realize until I started praying out loud. So many people want to live in a diversified world, but do nothing about it. God has called us to love, not to judge. We live in a society where the first thing we do is judge. It has gotten to the point that we do it unconsciously. We need to love and see people like Jesus does and expand our table. The best way to learn how is from the source: God himself.
January 25, 2021
Author / Pastor John Pavlovitz challenges us as believers to be like Jesus with a spirit of inclusion.
The four "legs" of the bigger table are radical hospitality, total authenticity; true diversity, and agenda-free community. What great aspirations for all of us regardless of where we are in our faith walk. Having an "All Are Welcome" philosophy facilitates sharing the gospel as the Bible encourages: "You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8 NIV) This practical book includes a Small Group Study Guide divided into Prayer & Share, Discussion Questions, and Action Steps as well as "A Word for Pastors" to encourage them in their faith community. It was interesting to learn more about John Pavlovitz's journey after being fired from the church where he worked in Raleigh, North Carolina.
The four "legs" of the bigger table are radical hospitality, total authenticity; true diversity, and agenda-free community. What great aspirations for all of us regardless of where we are in our faith walk. Having an "All Are Welcome" philosophy facilitates sharing the gospel as the Bible encourages: "You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8 NIV) This practical book includes a Small Group Study Guide divided into Prayer & Share, Discussion Questions, and Action Steps as well as "A Word for Pastors" to encourage them in their faith community. It was interesting to learn more about John Pavlovitz's journey after being fired from the church where he worked in Raleigh, North Carolina.
July 13, 2020
I really needed this dialogue and appreciate the honesty and vulnerability of the author. I have repeatedly be confused, hurt, frustrated, and saddened with so many portions of my experience with Christianity and have found that it’s not a label I desire right now. The idea of a bigger table, one that is authentic, messy, diverse, and truly relational is absolutely what I crave. This book opened my eyes and validated what I’ve been wrestling with. I look forward to continuing to break down barriers and to redefine the lens through which I see others and how I see God.
—
“Doubt isn’t the sign of a dead faith, not necessarily even of a sickly one. It’s often the sign of a faith that is allowing itself to be tested, one that is brave enough to see if it can hold up under tension.”
—
“Doubt isn’t the sign of a dead faith, not necessarily even of a sickly one. It’s often the sign of a faith that is allowing itself to be tested, one that is brave enough to see if it can hold up under tension.”
July 30, 2023
I think everyone- Christian and non- christian should read this book and strive to create a bigger table in their lives.
"Diversity and equity will often be interpreted as attack by the privileged, and they will fight to prevent the presence of both. One of the most Jesus-replicating acts we can engage in is confronting our blind spots of privilege. This lack of self awareness was true of the Pharisees and Sadducees, and it's true of those who've had the run of the church in our recent history. These will be the people who fight to keep the table smaller."
"Bigotry doesn't happen when we notice other people's differences. It happens when we believe or act as if those differences make another less worthy of love or opportunity or compassion or respect "
"Diversity and equity will often be interpreted as attack by the privileged, and they will fight to prevent the presence of both. One of the most Jesus-replicating acts we can engage in is confronting our blind spots of privilege. This lack of self awareness was true of the Pharisees and Sadducees, and it's true of those who've had the run of the church in our recent history. These will be the people who fight to keep the table smaller."
"Bigotry doesn't happen when we notice other people's differences. It happens when we believe or act as if those differences make another less worthy of love or opportunity or compassion or respect "
October 31, 2018
I admit I read this because I figured it would fit my liberal progressive beliefs, however, it challenges you to do things that are contrary to popular wisdom. I want a bigger table, but a bigger table of people who believe like me. I tend to tolerate people of more conservative Christian beliefs without listening and trying to understand where they are coming from. A bigger table can be very uncomfortable for all participants, but it can be an opportunity to open dialog instead of Twitter fights.
July 22, 2020
John Pavlovitz is one of my favorite bloggers on the current condition in the US and our faith responses, so I was really anxious to read this book. I did that with a group of Episcopalians across a diocese, who met multiple times to discuss, and the book was excellent for this purpose, making us dig deep as we considered our own responses to his ideas on "radical hospitality." While his church is structurally different than ours, we considered how some of these ideas would look in our churches.
January 31, 2018
I am going to be rereading chapters of this book far into the future. I am not a Christian but I love what he says about following Jesus---which is really not how I see most people who call themselves Christians. The tag line on the cover says it: Building messy, authentic, and hopeful spiritual community. This, I believe can be done without "being Christian". An excellent guide to seeing how.
January 7, 2019
As a gay “recovering catholic”, this book was very helpful and eye opening. I am a 45 year old man that is generally happy in life, but I still occasionally suffer from the misplaced guilt that was “planted” in me at an early age. This book has helped me understand what true Christianity could/should be AND IS. I am excited to research and explore religion again. Thank you John!
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