Check back here in the Fall for fresh articles and videos, including interviews with author David Brenner (Soulful Spirituality) and Charles Robinson, a Native American and founder of The Red Road (www.theredroad.org).

This is just to name a few, so come back!

In the meantime, have a great summer….

I believe a part of the answer lies in a very ancient tradition that turned to silence to solve this riddle. Those who were most serious about worshiping in spirit sought increasingly isolated places to simply be with God without any distractions. Though, as they soon discovered, silence itself could be one of the most challenging distractions of all. But once overcome, the ancients learned that God often chooses to relate to us using a vocabulary of silence on a path known as the “via negativa” or the “negative way.” In a grossly over-simplistic description, this refers to the notion of approaching God by stripping our prayer and worship of all images, thoughts, and even words–because all of these things limit God.

The “via negativa” attempts to let God be God by understanding Him through what He is not. In more practical terms, it refers to finding God in silence and solitude and stillness.

One doesn’t have to look far to notice that we live in a world where more and more people are living frenetic, 24/7 lives constantly connected to input from the internet, TV, games, cell phones, and the like. In fact, I recently saw a commercial for a game device with the tagline, “Never Stop Playing.”  Even the church has become a place so programmed that thirty-second blocks of time are mapped out in a service to insure that there is no wasted “dead air.”

Consequently, we have become addicted to noise. Without a constant feed running through our mind during our awake moments, we feel at a loss. But if we pause just for a moment and reflect upon this obsession, it will become apparent to us that this lifestyle is unsustainable. At some point we are going to suffer the consequences physically, spiritually and emotionally. And no amount of medication is going to help.

The prescription offered by Christian contemplatives is to bring balance back to our lives. In part, we do this by speaking to God in spirit utilizing a more intuitive part of the mind that forces us into the silence. Augustine described this as the “higher” portion of the mind which was capable of uniting with God, as opposed to the “lower” part of the mind that utilized reason. Even though today it might be a bit unsophisticated to speak of the brain operating in this way, there is some truth to this as modern psychology supports, though using a different vocabulary.

A Desert Father by the name of Evagrius the Solitary called this higher portion the “nous” which he defined as a type of intuitive spiritual intelligence. He writes, “Undistracted prayer is the highest intellection of the intellect. Prayer is the ascent of the intellect to God. If you long for prayer renounce all to gain all”(Philokalia, edited by G.E.H. Palmer, et. al., p. 72).

Fundamental to this definition is the idea that prayer is a journey that begins within. As one ventures inward, one removes distractions, whether external or internal, that then leads to the edge of one’s self.

He explains, “Do not pray only with outward forms and gestures, but with reverence and awe try to make your intellect conscious of spiritual prayer” (Philokalia, p. 72). In other words, as one sits in silence and slowly calms the mind so that the to-do list, the worries, the fears, the yearning to check email, to turn on the TV, to browse the web become more and more distant, the more one becomes aware of the more important presence of God. And so, as one puts distance to even such distractions as words, one discovers that prayer is not a matter of running through a shopping list of requests, or of constantly chattering about this or that, but that prayer, as Evagrius described it, is a state of being.

One doesn’t pray. One enters the state of prayer.

Recently I had the chance to sit down with Phileena Heuertz and ask her some questions about this type of prayer. She teaches contemplative spirituality regularly to groups in her non-profit organization she co-founded with her husband, Chris, called Word Made Flesh. It’s an intriguing approach to ministry that combines contemplative spirituality with social justice, based on the model pioneered by Mother Teresa. Phileena has also written a book telling her own story that led her into this tradition entitled, Pilgrimage of a Soul.

In this clip, Phileena defines centering prayer for us.

In this clip, Phileena explains how solitude, silence, and stillness can benefit us.

The context of the prayer can be found in Luke 18:9-14, where two men are praying. The Pharisee says, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income” (Luke 18:10-12, NRSV).

The publican, or tax collector, instead prayed, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (Luke 18:13, NRSV). And Jesus points to this man and his prayer as the one accepted by God.

As early as the second century, the Desert Fathers and Mothers took the essence of this prayer and came up with the Jesus Prayer. There are different variations of it: the shortest: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me;” and the longest: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

By calling to mind this prayer throughout the day, the ancients put into practice the idea expressed in 1 Thess. 5:16 to “pray without ceasing.”

As St. Hesychios the Priest explains, “A ship does not go far without water; and there is no progress whatsoever in the guarding of the intellect without watchfulness, humility, and the Jesus Prayer. Stones form the foundation of a house; but the foundation of sanctity—and its roof—is the holy and venerable name of our Lord Jesus Christ…We write of what we know; and for those who want to understand what we say, we bear witness to all that we have seen as we journeyed on our path…. The sun cannot shine without light; nor can the heart be cleansed of the stain of destructive thoughts without invoking in prayer the name of Jesus. This being the case, we should use that name as we do our own breath.” (Philokolia, ed. by G.E.H. Palmer, et. al. p. 109)

Greek Orthodox author Frederica Mathewes-Green wrote an entire book about this prayer entitled, The Jesus Prayer: the Ancient Desert Prayer that Tunes the Heart to God. Recently I had the chance to sit down and ask her some questions about it.

In this clip, Frederica describes the Jesus Prayer

In this clip, Frederica explains how to put the Jesus Prayer into practice.

The short answer: a lot. And I’m not joking, a least when it comes to the original way it was celebrated.

We often associate Valentine’s Day with St. Valentine, which on the surface sounds quite reasonable. But there is a huge disconnect between this saint and what we typically associate with Valentine’s Day, that is, romantic dates, cards, candy, kissing, and, well, you get the idea.

To begin with, it’s actually difficult to know who St. Valentine was. One tradition describes him as a Roman priest martyred under Emperor Claudius. Another locates him in Terni as the bishop. But their stories are mostly legend, and there’s nothing really lovey-dovey about either of these characters, at all.

So how did St. Valentine’s day get associated with erotic love? Well, that’s where things gets interesting.

Between February 13-15^th ancient Romans celebrated a pagan festival to the god Lupercus (known as Lupercalia). As with all Roman gods, this one was stolen from the Greeks and is associated with Pan, the creepy guy with goat feet and a human torso who played the flute and chased naked girls around known as nymphs.

Lupercus was the god of shepherds, and his priests wore goatskins (and little else). According to the Roman historian Plutarch, on the ides of February the noblemen in town stripped mostly naked and ran around the city laughing and cavorting. Noblewomen joined in the fun by purposely getting in the way of the streakers, not to obstruct them, but–get this—to be struck by them with “shaggy thongs.”

Now, just in case your mind is getting a little too creative here, a thong is not an undergarment but a strip cut from the skins of the sacrificed goats called a februa, from which we get the term February (you’ll never think of the month in the same way, now).

Thus we are essentially talking about a whipping, or a spanking, depending upon your preference. This may sound a little kinky, but apparently they believed that this helped barren women to get pregnant, and pregnant women to have an easy delivery. Obviously they didn’t know much about biology, but they did know how to have fun.

Believe it or not, even “uninhibited Christians” joined in the revelry, perhaps even clergymen. And the church essentially turned a blind eye to it, even though it had connections to paganism.

However, in the 5^th century Gelasius I, bishop of Rome, decided that the revelry was getting out of hand. He attacked the holiday, not because of the masochism that seems to be implied, but because the festival had been “cheapened, carried out no longer by honoured noblemen but by low-born persons hired for the occasion: devalued by its very supporters….” (The End of Ancient Christianity, p. 132). In other words, it’s virtuous for the 1% to go commando and paddle consenting women, but apparently it’s a sin if the 99% attempt it.

Gelasisus’s efforts prevailed, and the holiday, as it was originally practiced, died out. But then in the 19^th century, Valentine’s Day got resurrected, albeit in a form far more Victorian, which is why every year at this time you are expected to do something romantic for your sweetie.

But if you’re a purist (and I know some of you are) then along with the dinner, card and candy must come a spanking.

Preferably with a shaggy thong.

Take a look at these two pictures.  My wife snapped them at the same spot in Dinosaur Valley State Park six years apart.  Aside from the obvious size difference in my children, you’ll notice the baby fat on my son’s arms has disappeared, replaced with lean muscles from playing mega hours of tennis.  My daughter’s cherubic figure has been replaced with that of a young girl.  And my hair looks decidedly, um, lighter.

Moments like these remind me of the relentless motion of time.  And the constant battle I have to wage against our modern era’s unhealthy view that time is a commodity.  That it’s the enemy.  Or that it must be strictly managed in order that we can be more productive.

Because these notions lead us to the same mistake with time that some of the ancient Jews made with the concept of the Sabbath during the fleeting days of Jesus.  As the author of the Cloud of Unknowing wrote in an age far from now, “Time is made for us; we’re not made for time.”  He explains, “God, the giver of time, never gives us two moments simultaneously; instead, he gives them to us one after another.  We never get the future.  We only get the present moment.”

And it’s the present moment that all too often gets squandered.

We do this in so many ways.  For starters, read my last post, where I show how technology has this powerful, narcotic ability of taking us far away from being present and convincing us that the flesh and blood people in the room are “so 12-seconds ago.”

But even when we are not engaged with cell phones and computers, ponder how we spend much of our day, with videos of our past playing and replaying filling us with regret, nostalgia, guilt, or pride, to name a few.  Or looking to the future, overwhelming us with to-do’s, anxiety, anticipation, excitement (or dread).  The mountainous amount of data that our past and future afford could alone keep our minds occupied for many, many lifetimes.

But we only have one.

And it’s a brief one at that.  So how can we make the most of it?  How can we make time slow down?  Perhaps even stand still?

For starters, we can recover the ancient Christian practice of living in the now.

Because what’s all around you at this very moment is simple, beautiful, and profound.  But you have to make the effort to notice it.

You have to stop.

Breathe deeply.

And become aware.

Allow the drive to always be elsewhere pass you by.  And give your brain permission to stop filtering out the mundane, and instead, to give priority to it.

As my son and daughter snuggled next to me at the state park, I looked across the field and saw two life-sized dinosaurs.  You can’t see them in the pictures, but they loom large, guarding the entrance and giving visitors a great photo op.  But from a distance, it dawned on me that if I were sitting here a long, long time ago, I might very well see something like this, minus the manicured landscape and the paved roads. But still.

And then I wondered what the view might look like a long, long time in the future.

My son interrupted my thoughts.  “Can we go now?”

“Not yet. Give me a moment,” I said.  I inhaled deeply.  Juniper.  I sensed my children jiggling next to me.  Impatient.  I saw a raptor floating effortlessly on wind currents scanning for food.  I heard the steady trickle from the Paluxy River in front of me, and the shutter clicks from my wife’s camera from behind.  A breeze pushed my daughter’s hair back, and caused branches to sway back and forth to some ancient rhythm that still echoed in this canyon.

And…time…stood….

You’ve probably seen this commercial. Two guys in lawn chairs at a tailgate party entranced with their cell phones. Every time a real person comes into the scene to ask a question, the lawn chair guys have the answer that they smugly give with the tagline, “That so ___ – seconds ago.”

Now, I get it. AT&T, known for their fickle technology, wants to convince us that their network is fast, and so they put these quirky commercials together to demonstrate that their phones are fast.

In another one, two women are sitting side-by-side in a cafeteria, equally dazed by their cell phones. When one character asks the two if they knew Fred was leaving, the girls reveal that they had already thrown the party and consumed half the face-cake. They show an online video to prove it.

Beyond the humor, though, there is a disturbing commentary found in these commercials. And not just the “get your head out of your cell phone” rant that many people angrily posted in the comment section of YouTube.

All good humor stems from a little truth. And in this case, there is this idea that life happens faster and fuller on the internet, and that what we find going on in front of us is a delayed reflection of our online experiences.

In other words, living in the 4D world is like a quaint, boring Victorian movie where women wear dresses that go up to their necks and men where wigs and tights. Living online is “the now.”

Further, you have the opportunity to become a part of “the now,” even if you are nowhere near the actual site. Just look at the top ten hashtags for 2011. Among them were #egypt, #tigerblood, and #japan.

Not only did these hashtags give people an opportunity to read about what was going on “live,” but also to comment about it in “real time,” and in so doing experience the event as a participant.

Historians, hundreds of years from now, just might read what you tweeted, making your words primary source material.

Thus, the AT&T commercials aren’t just highlighting a faster technology, but a faster reality. A new state of hyper reality that we seem to be heading toward, where what’s happening to us in the physical world is already in the past

Recently a Jewish Professor at Baylor University was fired, allegedly for proclaiming that Israel has committed human rights atrocities and that the Palestinians have a right to their own state. As you can imagine, this has garnered a great deal of attention both for and against the action.

Aside from the political and academic implications of this event, which I’m sure are quite complicated, there is this ideology that has emerged as the flashing point: Evangelical Christians must support the actions of modern Israel at all costs. And to go against Israel’s interests is to go against God’s will.

Where did this come from?

What you may not know is that “Christian Zionism” as this is called is a fairly new idea that traces its lineage back to the middle of the 19^th century. Enter J. N. Darby, who grew disillusioned with the Irish Anglican Church after studying the book of Acts and noticing that the present day institution failed in many ways when compared to the dynamism and purity of first century believers. He tended toward literalism in understanding the Bible, and his fascination with apocalyptic passages led him to the then fairly novel conclusion that most of this stuff hadn’t happened yet.

As a result, Darby plunged himself into the task of trying to figure out if perhaps all the bad stuff going on in his world was somehow predicted in the Scriptures. He rejected the then popular postmillennialism which assumed that everything would just keep getting better and better in the world until Jesus came back, despite the fact that this view was held by some pretty stalwart theologians like John Cotton, John Wesley and Jonathan Edwards . Ever the contrarian, Darby adopted a rather pessimistic view of this world in which everything must get worse. Just pick up the newspaper, he baited, and you’ll see.

And so he started hanging around with other disgruntled evangelicals in Ireland who loved to get together and gripe. Soon this group captured the attention of a wealthy widow named Theodosia A. Viscountess Powerscourt, or Lady Powerscourt for short, who thought it would be fun to get all these pessimists together at a large conference so that they could hear a succession of speakers complain about how bad things were. Little did she know that she was laying down the foundation for the modern news networks.

Eventually, the group got tired of complaining all the time and so started to talk about what they could do about all the stuff they were complaining about. They concluded that they were far too depraved to be able to do anything (most of them were Calvinists) but that perhaps God might intervene. This is where things get really interesting, because then the speakers started to present their ideas about how God was going to assault all the people that they didn’t like, especially the godless scientists and Catholics.

This made them feel much better.

Soon, J. N. Darby rose to notoriety among these speakers for two reasons: his novel eschatology captured their imagination. And two, Lady Powerscourt wanted Darby to be her boyfriend, and so she made sure he had ample opportunity to speak at the best spots during these prophecy gatherings aptly named, the Powerscourt Conferences. Alas, their love never blossomed, mainly because Darby fancied himself a fighter, not a lover.

Eventually Darby’s insights developed into a grand scheme of understanding all of history known as Premillennial Dispensationalism. It’s so complicated, my spell checker doesn’t even recognize these two terms as actual words. Essentially, Darby divided history into seven dispensations, and explained that today we are in the sixth age of grace also known as the “church age,” characterized as a rather dull period where nothing much happens until we get close to the end, when all hell breaks loose, literally. In a last gasp of desperation, Satan and his forces will unleash a torrent of maelstroms against the church. Signs of this can already be seen in the fact Napoleon III has become ruler of France as the seventh head of the beast. Very soon, the eighth head will reveal itself, and the evil emanating from this person will be even worse.

Crucial to Darby’s eschatology is a novel understanding of the role of the Jews. Whereas historically the Church has been viewed as God’s instrument to usher in the Kingdom, Darby concluded that when the Jews rejected Jesus they interrupted the coming of the Kingdom. This led him to a strict dichotomy where the Jews are given another chance at redemption and the opportunity to reestablish the nation of Israel. In other words, God hasn’t given up on the Jews or His promises of land and glory mentioned in the Old Testament. Even though numerous passages also mention that these promises were contingent upon the Jews being faithful. And other numerous passages suggest that the Jews weren’t so good at being faithful, thus nullifying the promises.

Nevertheless, faithfulness has its rewards, as represented by the Church. And soon Jesus will return in the sky. He will “rapture” the church so that they can join him in heaven and gleefully watch the rest of the world get tortured over a period known as the “tribulation.” This will be a really bad time, like a horror movie, with heavenly creatures playing the role of the guy with the creepy white mask and a knife who inflicts pain and suffering on all the teenagers who dare to lose their virginity before marriage. Only instead of sex being the act that dooms you, it’s the mark of the beast.

Painful sores, skin-crisping fire, panic-inducing darkness, and giant hailstones will be but a few of the maladies experienced. Satan and his followers will fight back, enjoying a few successes of their own. However, after the Yankees win the World Series seven years in a row, Jesus will have had enough, and He will return on a white horse brandishing Excalibur. Satan will be defeated and bound in the Abyss. This is when the promised Kingdom is finally established in Jerusalem, and the 144,000 Jews who refused the mark of the beast during the Tribulation will be allowed to reign for a thousand years.

After the Millennium, Satan is released for one big, high-noon showdown with God called Armageddon. It won’t be much of a fight, however, for after a little sword-rattling, God merely zaps them with fire and tosses the Prince of Darkness, along with his minions, into the lake of fire where they spend an eternity in constant torment along with the rest of the damned (including the New York Yankees).

Now we get to our happy ending where the New Jerusalem is established and everyone runs around and hugs Jesus, sings contemporary Christian worship songs and watches Pixar movies.

For a group of disgruntled Irish evangelicals who were dissatisfied with the Church of England and fearful of a world that seemed to be falling apart, this scheme had a great deal of appeal. Yet, it probably would have remained popular among a limited number had it not been for some British politicians who become fascinated with Darby’s ideas about the Jews. Most prominent among them was Lord Shaftesbury who became convinced of Darby’s interpretations and made it his mission to insure that Darby’s eschatology became political reality. And so Shaftesbury began rallying for an independent Jewish nation, inspiring a following that managed to gain momentum over the next century. Shaftesbury’s slogan proclaimed, “A country without a nation for a nation without a country,” promoting the idea that the Jews were a people without a home, and that Palestine was an empty land without a people.

Meanwhile in America, C. I. Scofield, a Confederate soldier, lawyer, U.S. Attorney General fired under suspicion of embezzlement, convicted forgeror, divorcee, and Dallas pastor published his commentary along with the King James Version of the Bible in a work known as the Scofield Reference Bible. In his commentary on Revelation, Scofield essentially cut-and-pasted Darby’s eschatology with a few minor changes that made it more applicable to the times. For many, his notes were as inspired and inerrant as the biblical text itself. And many pastors found themselves having to defend any of their interpretations at variance with Scofield’s notes, especially on eschatology. T.T. Shields of Toronto once commented that it generally took a believer about three to six months to go from total ignorance to “oracular religious certainty” with the Scofield Bible.

By the time World War II ended, dispensationalism was quite popular both in America and England. And though motivations were complicated and mixed, Christian Zionism played a significant role among the western powers that concluded that the Jews had suffered so much at the hands of the Nazis that they deserved a place of their own. And so they carved out a bit of land in the Middle East around Jerusalem and established the nation of Israel, evicting the inhabitants that didn’t exist. When this happened, as you can imagine, adherence of Premillennial Dispensationalism celebrated as they viewed this event as confirmation that everything they believed about the end times was true.

Since then, new prophets, pastors, political leaders, and Kirk Cameron, have all taken up the banner of J.N. Darby and Lord Shaftesbury, proclaiming that it is the will of God that Israel be supported against her enemies at all costs. By doing so, one hastens the day of the return of Jesus and the rapture of the church.

Now, I’m willing to admit Darby may very well be right about all of this. And it’s fun to talk and debate about eschatology. But as I look at how apocalyptic passages have been interpreted in the past, one thing stands out: the church has a dismal record. Which begs the question, is it really wise to base major decisions about the future based on the complicated interpretations of ambiguous biblical texts?

This morning I read an article about the most recent backlash to altering photographs in magazines. It seems there are some calling for editors to give “full disclosure” concerning printed pics. They demand that a score be given (from 1 to 5) to indicate how much a picture has been processed. The article included before and after pics of celebrities and models to incite a feeling of injustice in us all. As I studied the pictures it became clear that every change made to the “before” pic was designed to make the “after” pic look younger and thinner. Grey was darkened, skin splotches removed, waistlines thinned to the degree that in a couple of the examples the images looked like two completely different people.

I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, but in our culture we are obsessed with beauty as defined by skinny and young. The problem is that the natural way of things is for people to grow old. And even for those of us who still maintain our weight, it has a tendency to shift from places we want it to be (lips and cheeks) to places we don’t want it to be (stomach, thighs and the other cheeks).

And so war has been declared on ugly, defined as flabby, wrinkled and splotched (aka getting old). 8 billion dollars is spent on makeup each year. Over 9 billion is spent on cosmetic surgery. Rihanna alone spends $23,000 a week on her hair. Yes, A WEEK! On her HAIR!

It’s gotten so bad that Daniel Hamermesh (Beauty Pays), an economist at the University of Texas, has declared that ugly ought to be considered a disability protected by law. You can see the entire fake news report here.

Now, as a historian, I have to acknowledge that cultures have long been obsessed with beauty. Read this excerpt from an ancient scholar who traveled with Alexander the Great in the 4th century BC when he conquered Sopeithe’s kingdom near Lahore (essentially modern India).

Among these people, the strangest feature is their respect for beauty: they choose their most handsome man as king. When a baby is born, two months after its birth the royal council decides whether it is beautiful enough to deserve to live..: as for the adults, to improve their looks they dye their beards all sorts of bright colours. Oddly enough, their brides and bridegrooms even choose each other.’

Hmmm, can you imagine choosing a king and a spouse based on looks!

All kidding aside, I can only imagine what it must have been like for those poor parents who handed their newborns over to the royal council knowing that an ugly verdict meant the death penalty . So, Dr. Hamermesh, things have been worse.

Now, I realize that doesn’t justify the way things are now. And I’m cynical enough to realize that not much can be done to change our culture. Even if we passed laws protecting ugly people, who is going to admit they need protecting? Not Dr. Hamermesh (just watch the video).

But people do feel ugly. Even drop dead gorgeous people feel ugly. Watch this heart-wrenching video from Glee where Rachel contemplates getting a nose job and sings about feeling unpretty. She is at the doctor’s office with Quinn who has the “perfect” nose.

Now, I know this is fiction. But as with all good fiction, it speaks truth. And it speaks to a very real need that many women have beginning in adolescents that asks the question, “Am I pretty?” And it’s a question that most never quite get over.

As a dad who has a daughter who just started middle school and a wife who just celebrated a birthday (bringing her closer to the half century mark), I am deeply concerned that the important women in my life never forget that they are beautiful in the truest sense of the word.

It’s the “truest sense of the word” part that I have a hard time conveying, a perennial problem that all men who deeply care about the women in their lives face. But I honestly think it’s much worse for us today. Because no matter what we say, we are drowned out by the billions and billions of dollars spent by an evil, beastly industry that’s sole purpose is to convince our wives and our daughters that they are ugly and in need of products and services to make them pretty.

How can we compete with that?

I don’t really know. And I certainly do not have a smoking-gun answer. But I do like to look to the past for wisdom, and in the realm of love and beauty Shakespeare has much to offer. In his 18th Sonnet, he wrote to an important woman in his life…

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate….

And though summer’s days are fleeting and will eventually come to an end, and even the gold complexion of the sun dim, still…

…thy eternal summer shall not fade.
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

And what is the “this” in the last line that offered unfading loveliness to Shakespeare’s beloved? My English major training gives me an academic answer, but I choose instead to bring my own baggage to the poem.

Perhaps the “this” is the eternal admiration a woman gets from the people closest to her who truly know her. And who want her to toss all the glossy magazines away and replace them with two dark, brown eyes that may be getting more and more nearsighted, but which can still see well enough to know that….

You are so beautiful. And always will be to me.

 Hell’s Kitchen in New York

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always found it a bit distressing that in the gospels Jesus tells us to be generous and compassionate toward the marginalized, even suggesting in the parable of the sheep and goats that it will be a litmus test for getting into heaven. And yet, if you express concern about these issues in any way in many conservative circles, you will earn their suspicion or even derision for being a “liberal” or “unbiblical” or “unchristian.” A prime example of this can be found in the way conservative pastor Rick Warren has been treated by many of his colleagues for suggesting that maybe Christians ought to care about AIDS victims, the environment, and poverty.

So when did this happen? In the first century, the very first formal ministry adopted by the church was to care for the widows and the orphans by providing food and care. And Acts 2 describes the church as sharing everything in such a way so that the church could give to anyone who had need. Try suggesting that in your next church business meeting and you will probably be shouted down as a communist. So how did we go from Acts 2 to where we are to today?

Well, it’s a very complicated issue, but a part of the answer, or blame, can be attributed to a guy I like to refer to as Uncle Walt, or Walter Rauschenbusch.

Uncle Walt was a German-American Baptist pastor who served the Second German Baptist Church on the outskirts of a place in New York known as “Hell’s Kitchen.” No one knows for sure why it was called such. It certainly had the reputation for being among the worst areas for crime and poverty. But one rumor has it that two policemen were patrolling the area and complaining about the heat. The first cop said something along the line, “Man it’s hot as Hell, here.” To which his partner responded, “This is hotter than Hell. This is Hell’s kitchen.”

That beings said, the name stuck. And not because of the summer heat, but because of the stuff that went on in this region.

Gang violence, prostitution, disease, hunger, addictions, spousal abuse and child enslavement were just a few of the social ills in Hell’s Kitchen, and as a pastor, Rauschenbusch faced these evils day after day. And after performing way too many funerals for children, Uncle Walt had a crisis of faith. If church was only about right doctrine and getting to heaven, then what earthly good was it?

With that in mind, he studied the Bible looking for guidance, and found inspiration in the preaching of the Old Testament prophets as well as in Jesus’ teachings about the kingdom. He published Christianity and the Social Crisis in 1907, and it shook the evangelical world to its core.

Eventually the term “Social Gospel” became associated with the movement Rauschenbusch started, even though he didn’t really like the term. To him, it was just “the gospel.” Nonetheless, he became a bit of a celebrity and found himself wrestling with many of the figures and forces he had confronted in his book.

Because of Rauschenbusch’s popularity, it didn’t take long for critics to rise up and attack him, attempting to link him to socialism and liberalism. And though he certainly had friends like Washington Gladden who championed biblical higher criticism, Rauschenbusch also befriended the Rockefellers and D.L. Moody, the iconic figures of capitalism and conservatism of the day.

Nonetheless, the critics won the PR battle, and ever since, caring about the poor has been misunderstood as a “liberal” idea.

But if caring about the marginalized is for liberals, then Jesus was a liberal. And where does that put those who refuse to participate in this endeavor, whatever they like to call themselves?

In a dangerous place, as Jesus warns in the parable of the sheep and goats.

I must, say, though, that I have hope. Because a new generation is rising up, weary of the polemics and name-calling of the past who don’t see liberal or conservative, but people. Broken people in desperate need, and they are expressing a great deal of courage and creativity in reaching out to them.

And so, as we begin the holiday season this week, I thought it would be appropriate for us to reflect on Uncle Walt’s true challenge, which had nothing to do with socialism or communism or liberalism or any other “ism.” It was simply to remember that among the poor, the sick, the imprisoned, the marginalized, the thirsty and the naked is Jesus. And if we want to be with Him, we must follow Him there.

A Thanksgiving prayer from Walter Rauschenbusch…

“Our Father, we thank thee for the food of our body, and for the human love which is the food of our hearts. Bless our family circle, and make this meal a sacrament of love to all who are gathered at this table. But bless thou too that great family of humanity of which we are but a little part. Give to all thy children daily bread, and let our family not enjoy its comforts in selfish isolation.”

Listen to a recent interview with Paul Brandeis Raushenbush, the direct descendant of Walter Rauschenbusch  here.

So when you approach, do not stretch out your arms or part your fingers. Make your left hand a throne for your right, which is about to receive your king. Cup your hand to receive the body of Christ and respond, ‘Amen’. Carefully sanctify your eyes with a touch of the holy body and then consume it, taking care to lose none of it. For to lose any of it is like being deprived of part of one of your own limbs. Tell me, if you were given some gold dust, would you not guard it most carefully, and take care not to lose or be deprived of any of it? Now this is more precious than gold and precious stones. Are you not then going to take even more care not to drop a crumb of it?

Then, after partaking of Christ’s body, you approach the cup of his blood. Do not stretch out your hands. Bow your head, say ‘Amen’ with adoration and reverence, and sanctify yourself by partaking of Christ’s blood also. And while the moisture is still on your lips, touch them with your hands and sanctify your eyes, your forehead and all your senses. Then wait for the prayer and give thanks to God for counting you worthy of such mysteries.

Cyril of Jerusalem, On the Mysteries 4 & 5, from Documents in Early Christian Thought, edited by Maurice Wiles and Mark Santer, Cambridge University Press, 1975, p. 193.