"I Then Shall Live"

You may be surprised to learn this, but I watched a Gaither Vocal Band special on CBN last night.  I was attempting to find the Washington Nationals vs. Atlanta Braves game, but I stayed with CBN for a while.  Normally, I'm a church snob of the highest order, preferring ordered, liturgical worship with sacred choral music.  So it would be easy to look down my nose at Southern Gospel music in the white or black American fundamentalist traditions.

But I don't.  I really like a lot of the music, especially when it is done well.  One of the biggest problems moderates have with gospel music is the fundamentalist theology that pervades most of the well-loved songs.  The lyrics tend to emphasize that the focus of the Christian experience is in the hereafter, not the here-and-now.  Jesus' death is usually emphasized and glorified to the point where one wonders if his life and teaching meant anything at all.  Theologically, the songs not only take penal substitutionary atonement for granted, they describe it in vivid detail.  Washed-in-the-blood-of-the-lamb metaphors are common.

Even so, the Gaithier Vocal Band has been producing top-quality gospel music for decades.  Last night on CBN, I came across these lyrics for the first time:

The tune is Jean Sibelius's familiar FINLANDIA.  Most Protestants will know it as the tune for the hymn "Be Still My Soul," a hymn that is particularly meaningful to me because it was sung at my grandfather's funeral.  Liberal Protestants may also know the hymn "This Is My Song," which uses the same tune and can be found in most mainline church hymnals.

Though the clip above does not show it, the CBN program I watched last night featured an interview with Gloria Gaither.  She explained that the inspiration for the song came from Francis Schaeffer's 1976 book, How Then Should We Live?  Schaeffer provided much of the intellectual leadership for the formation of the Religious Right political movement.

Personally, I like Gloria Gaither's theology a lot better than Francis Schaeffer's.  But, being a woman, she is of course useless and unwanted to fundamentalists as a theologian.  Still, I think she has done a masterful job of articulating a positive, active vision of the Christian life.  The last few lines, italicized in the text below, will be particularly meaningful to the men (and yes, women) who are called to full-time vocational Christian ministry.

Blessings to all of you, this Lord's Day and always.

I then shall live as one who’s been forgiven;
I’ll walk with joy to know my debts are paid.
I know my name is clear before my Father;
I am His child, and I am not afraid.
So greatly pardoned, I’ll forgive my brother,
The law of love I gladly will obey.  

I then shall live as one who’s learned compassion;
I’ve been so loved that I’ll risk loving too.
I know how fear builds walls instead of bridges;
I’ll dare to see another’s point of view.
And when relationship demand commitment,
Then I’ll be there to care and follow through.  

Your kingdom come around and through and in me;
Your power and glory, let them shine through me;
Your Hallowed name, O may I bear with honor,
And may You living Kingdom come in me.
The Bread of Life, O may I share with honor,
And may You feed a hungry world through me. 
Amen. Amen. Amen.  

Text © 1981 Gaither Music Company. Music © Breitkopf & Hartel (Outside U.S.
only). All rights reserved. 

Fine Arts Fiasco: Getting What We Didn't Ask For

Fine Arts Fiasco Series
Part 1 -- Intro
Part 2 -- Getting What We Didn't Ask For

Previously, I introduced the series and offered an explanation for why Save OBU didn't sound an alarm about concerns in OBU's Warren M. Angell College of Fine Arts when those concerns first arose.  I  sincerely hope some of the wounds from recent conflicts have healed.  The aim here is simple: to add to the large body of evidence that there is a new authoritarian streak at OBU and an agenda promulgated from the top down to re-orient the mission and purpose of OBU.

The new guard, of course, denies there's any agenda at all.  "We are a Baptist college.  We are just bringing our programs, personnel, and values in line with Southern Baptist principles and priorities."  This isn't an exact quote, of course, but it's obviously the message the new administrators convey when they are asked about their departure from long-established norms and commitments.

The not-so-subtle implication behind their incredulous denial of any new direction is clear: Even at the height of its recognition for rigor and excellence, OBU's programs, personnel, and values were somehow not in sync with Southern Baptist principles and priorities.  Of course, that idea is offensive, untrue, and hurtful to many OBU students, faculty, staff, and alumni.

In the fine arts area, the crux of the situation is this: There exists a wide perception that the Angell College has a mandate -- from the president and provost, from the BGCO, or from somewhere else -- to tailor its programs to what the BGCO's churches are doing, even if this means backing away from what made the fine arts programs at OBU great in the first place.  One widespread fear is that the theater major -- the least wholesome fine art? -- will eventually be reduced to training for church-based "drama ministry."  Students in art and music fear that the studio/conservatory-like atmosphere of their departments could be watered down.  These days, apparently few (if any) Oklahoma Baptist churches have a real demand for the kinds of skills OBU's amazing music department has developed in thousands of students over the decades: organ, piano, voice, composition, choral conducting, etc.  Sorry, but it doesn't take a college degree in sacred music to run a volunteer praise band.

Maybe the BGCO is upset that so many OBU music graduates seek sacred music training in mainline Protestant seminaries instead of what remains of the once-outstanding church music programs at the SBC seminaries.  Or that many of our graduates end up using their outstanding talents in the music ministries of mainline Protestant churches.  Maybe there is a sense that too many fine arts students end up going into "secular" vocations.  (Though I would note that almost every issue of the alumni magazine trumpets the accomplishments of a non-fundamentalist Fine Arts graduate who has found success in the secular world.)

Many people view the new(ish) Fine Arts dean, Dr. Ken Gabrielse, as the personification of this change in orientation.  He came from a lengthy tenure as a graduate student and faculty member in sacred music at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary.  Before coming to OBU, Dr. Gabrielse was the Music and Worship Specialist for the BGCO for several years until the Angell College's longtime dean, Dr. Hammond, retired.  Many candidates applied for the fine arts deanship, of course.  But this was a case where the administration intervened to raise up someone over the search committee's preferred candidate -- in this case, someone in the mold of Dr. Hammond who had significant administrative experience.

Given his close ties to the SBC seminary world and to the BGCO, it's obvious why the administration preferred Gabrielse while some other stakeholders preferred someone else.  As with too many faculty positions at David Whitlock's OBU, here we have another case where the new administration in its wisdom circumvented the usual process to get their man -- this time at the decanal level.

Aside from the disservice of bringing in someone who was not the search committee's first choice, top administration (and/or the BGCO) burdened the new dean with having to implement a change in vision that no one asked for.  After some bumps in the road that we'll discuss in subsequent posts, I truly hope that things are going better for the dean.  By now, Dean Gabrielse should have enough institutional knowledge and understanding to know that OBU's outstanding fine arts programs were actually doing fine before he got there and that a change in orientation is simply not needed and certainly not wanted.

The sooner he realizes it, the better off OBU will be.

Visit to the U.S. Naval Academy Chapel

This is completely off-topic, but I wanted to share.

Today, my bride attended a girlfriend's bachelorette brunch in Annapolis, MD.  This gave me a great opportunity for a daddy-daughter date with 10 month-old Amelia.  Reminiscent (to me, anyway) of Southern cities like Savannah and Charleston, Annapolis is a very old (colonial-era), picturesque American city.  While strolling through the streets, we walked onto the campus of the U.S. Naval Academy (alma mater of President Jimmy Carter, a well-known Baptist of the pre-Takeover variety).

The academy has an absolutely beautiful chapel, which Amelia and I toured.  (I figure I should do as much of this sightseeing as I can now, before she gets old enough to say, "Dad, this is sooo lame!")  The original structure exists under a spectacular dome.  A nave was added in the 1930s.  Along one side of the nave, 4 stained glass windows depict New Testament scenes relating to seafaring.  Four Old Testament passages are depicted on the other side.  There is a majestic 268-rank pipe organ, but unfortunately I arrived after the service had ended.

Here are some pictures:

 View from the entrance

 One of the transepts

 The vaulted dome

 Standing outside in the cold with Amelia Louise

Looking back to the nave and balcony 

 "And he bagan to teach by the seaside and there was gathered unto him a great multitude so that he entered into a ship." -Saint Mark IV:1

 "What manner of man is this that even the winds and the sea obey him?" -Saint Matthew VII:27

"Come ye after me and I will make you to become fishers of men." -Saint Mark I:17

The U.S. Naval Academy Chapel, Annapolis, MD

This visit was very meaningful to me for two reasons.

First, I had a special friend who was a Navy chaplain in World War II.  On my first Sunday working in parish ministry, I was introduced to the congregation as a graduate of Boston University School of Theology (where I attended after OBU).  As I was greeting worshippers after the service, an old man came up to me and said, "I'm Lloyd Shephard -- B.U. School of Theology class of 1937."  Though parish ministry was a tenuous fit for me (at best) for a number of reasons and I ultimately did not pursue it as a vocation, I developed a great respect for the retired clergy in our congregation.  (Being in Florida, a number of United Methodist pastors from the Northeast and Upper Midwest attended our church in retirement.)  Lloyd was my favorite.  He volunteered at our homeless shelter on cold nights well into his nineties.  He lived on his own in a mobile home until he was 96.  When his eyesight became so bad that he couldn't live alone anymore, he sold his trailer to a neighbor for $1.  Once, when I was reading my BU Theology alumni magazine, I saw Lloyd's name on the list of donors.  I was absolutely stunned at the amount he gave.  I visited him occasionally in an assisted living facility, where he was always listening to classical music or books on tape.  He was nearly blind, so he always asked me to go through his mail.  Since most of the envelopes were direct mail solicitations, I told him it was all junk.  But he asked me to read each one.  Then he asked me to help him write checks to organizations he said he felt his Christian conscience compelling him to support, among them the American Civil Liberties Union and Americans United for the Separation of Church and State.

On one visit, Lloyd gave me a silver paten and chalice he used as a Navy chaplain.  After Pearl Harbor, Lloyd took a train from upstate New York to Washington, where he enlisted in the chaplain corps.  The naval officer who did his intake said, "You're not one of those pacifist ministers, are you, Reverend?"  To which Lloyd replied, "Actually, I am.  But these men need a chaplain and I'm here to serve."  I recently found those silver Communion implements (which I never used) and look forward to shipping them to Boston University School of Theology along with a write-up about Lloyd's life and ministry.  Hopefully Lloyd's story will live on through a young seminarian preparing for ministry as a Navy chaplain at his almat mater.  The Rev. Dr. Lloyd F. Shephard died in 2008 at age 99.

The other reason I was particularly glad to visit the Naval Academy Chapel today is that the Navy Hymn ("Eternal Father, Strong to Save") is one of my favorites.  I have sung it as a lullaby to my daughter many times.  I suspect that hymn has been sung by thousands of midshipmen in that chapel over the years.

Thank you for indulging a somewhat more personal story today.  Tomorrow we begin a series on the recent goings-on at Cedarville University, a Baptist-affiliated college in Ohio.  I'll leave you with a recording of the Navy Hymn.

Eternal Father, strong to save, Whose arm hath bound the restless wave, Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep Its own appointed limits keep; Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, For those in peril on the sea! O Christ! Whose voice the waters heard And hushed their raging at Thy word, Who walkedst on the foaming deep, And calm amidst its rage didst sleep; Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, For those in peril on the sea! Most Holy Spirit! Who didst brood Upon the chaos dark and rude, And bid its angry tumult cease, And give, for wild confusion, peace; Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, For those in peril on the sea! O Trinity of love and power! Our brethren shield in danger's hour; From rock and tempest, fire and foe, Protect them wheresoe'er they go; Thus evermore shall rise to Thee Glad hymns of praise from land and sea.

Homecoming: The Morning After (Church & Meeting Prep)

Thanks to the generous hospitality of a friend, I was able to rest well in OKC last night after a long and exciting day of Homecoming activities.  This morning, we attended an early service at Mayflower Congregational United Church of Christ in Oklahoma City. Now, Mayflower is not for everyone (though everyone is welcome).  But a lot of people who don't really "fit" in conservative evangelical or fundamentalist Southern/Midwestern U.S. Protestantism have banded together and made Mayflower a unique church.  After speaking to the associate minister afterwards, we were told that Mayflower actually has a number of OBU alumni/ae in its congregation.  The picture doesn't do it justice, but Mayflower has a sparsely appointed (New England/Puritan-style) sanctuary that is quite beautiful in its simplicity.

Mayflower Congregational (UCC) Church of Oklahoma City

How do I say this diplomatically?  Most Save OBU supporters are conservative and moderate evangelicals.  But I think we may have a few liberals.  If you lean toward the liberal end of the spectrum and you live in Central Oklahoma, you should strongly consider making Mayflower your church home.

Back in Shawnee, I was delighted to worship at First Baptist Church for the first time in over 10 years.  As most of you know, Shawnee has a number of great churches, each one with a different flavor and personality yet united in making disciples.  Whereas many downtown churches are struggling (I'm speaking generally, not about Shawnee in particular), FBC is a vibrant congregation.  The music was absolutely spectacular!  One of the hymns used the tune (AZMON) that Methodists use for Charles Wesley's great hymn, "O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing," so that was a little weird for me.  My old Methodist heart broke just a little!  A trumpeter blasted out the triumphant melody of "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty" before the congregation joined in song.  We also sang "It Is Well with My Soul," which is a favorite of practically everyone.  The choir offered a beautiful adaptation of a psalm as a call to prayer.  A piano quartet(!) performed "How Great Thou Art," which has special meaning for me because it was sung at my grandfather's funeral.  I was so grateful for the opportunity to personally thank two retired OBU music professors for enhancing my OBU experience with glorious music in Raley Chapel on so many occasions.

The Gospel text was from the Sermon on the Mount, and the minister brought an inspiring message that both comforted and challenged me.  Especially as I have been critical of certain OBU policy and personnel changes, I must grapple with Christ's command to "Love your enemies."  I don't think of the new administrators as enemies, but I want to guard my heart carefully and seek divine guidance on how to balance our obligation to stand up for what is right with our imperative to love our enemies.  Let's all pray for one another!

First Baptist Church, Shawnee, OK

For the next few hours, my co-editor Veronica will be in the GC meeting with OBU students who may want to know more about Save OBU.  Remember, many students who were at OBU during the most tumultuous times have graduated in the past two years.  As I spoke with underclassmen yesterday, none of them had any idea about the problems OBU has been having with academic freedom and ethical administration.  It's vitally important that the older students pass this knowledge on to the younger ones, in order that the students can stand up for their professors and defend, where appropriate, against fundamentalist encroachment.

I look forward to meeting with many of you today at 4 in front of the library.  We'll strategize for 90 minutes or so and hopefully re-tool our message and methods for the months and years ahead!

OBU's 2012 Commencement: Beneath the Surface

Congratulations to the OBU Class of 2012!  The Green Book lists 23 regulations pertaining to "College Citizenship," and I hope the graduates went out and broke 1 or 2 of them last night.  God loves a joyful celebration!

I understand it was cloudy yesterday -- perhaps an apt metaphor for the storm clouds of conflict looming over the campus.  I saw part of the ceremony, which was streamed on Shawnee Live and is also available "on demand" through OBU's website.  It was hard to believe a decade has passed since I walked across that stage!  But I was so happy and proud for all the students and their families.  I have to credit last fall's alumni petition for providing the impetus to start Save OBU.  And I credit Contributing Editor Veronica Pistone for helping make sure the movement survived its infancy.  But the truth is, we wouldn't be this far without the hundreds of OBU students who have expressed interest in our movement, read our blog, and kept the issues salient on campus.  I'm especially grateful to the several dozen students -- mostly seniors -- who actively helped out by providing information, context, and nuance on a number of fronts.  We invite you to even more active participation in Save OBU now that you are alumni!  And we trust that the torch of student leadership is passing to students who may not remember OBU under Brister or Parrish, but who nonetheless revere academic freedom, Baptist freedom, and OBU's great liberal arts heritage.

While it was entirely appropriate for the university to pull itself together to honor the 246 graduating seniors, there are a handful of relevant tidbits that curiously didn't make it into the official press release.

Speakers

Commencement Address/Honorary Degree
OBU conferred an honorary doctorate on the Rev. Dr. Tom Elliff, a former missionary, Oklahoma Baptist minister, and current president of the SBC's International Mission Board.  Of course, no opportunity is wasted to remind everyone that OBU sends more missionaries to the IMB than any other college.  And we will not waste an opportunity to a) courteously remind everyone that correlation does not imply causality and b) reiterate our view that Oklahoma's contribution to the mission field owes as much to Falls Creek as to OBU, and that as with all BGCO ministry and mission priorities, funding for Falls Creek suffers because of the BGGO's $2.5 million annual subsidy to OBU.

After hearing Dr. Elliff's rather innocuous homily, I almost felt bad for highlighting his role in the Fundamentalist Takeover (and aftermath) of the SBC.  It's amazing how downright likable fundamentalists can be when they're not waging ideological warfare and destroying our treasured institutions.  The bondservant/slave and kamikaze illustrations seemed a little strange at first, but do indeed point to important servant/surrender aspects of the Christian life.  But given his open disdain for moderates in the SBC and the fact that OBU gave him an award less than a year ago, I continue to feel that honoring him in this way was insulting, particularly to faculty.  Still, they politely applauded the man who likened moderates in Southern Baptist life to "barnacles and parasites" that he himself proudly "removed from the Ship of Zion."

Awards/Acknowledgments

Retiring Faculty
We certainly join OBU in commending the service of six very fine retirees.  At least two of them have been courageously and openly opposed to some of the bad policy and personnel changes we've seen in recent years.  One of the retirees, interviewed in The Bison last fall, said she doubts she would be hired by OBU today.  What a tragedy.  Still, we must thank these very fine folks for their service and leadership over the years.  We wish them all the best as they begin exciting new chapters in their lives.

Faculty Awards
There is widespread suspicion among the faculty that politics played a role in the Promising Teacher Award this year.  Many faculty had assumed the award would go to an effective and well-loved professor who just finished his sixth year -- his last year of eligibility for the award.  Of course, being an Episcopalian may have been the kiss of death, given a certain administrator's recent obsession with church affiliation politics.  OBU may be saying to young professors, "We may not be able to fire you or deny you tenure 'in a winsome way,' but don't think you're getting any extra awards unless you a down-the-line fundamentalist Baptist."  Many were surprised that the promising teacher honor went to a relatively newer hire who is demonstrably more in line with the fundamentalist party line.  As one insider explains:

It's clear that the administration chose him for the award to make a statement, especially in light of Veronica's Save OBU blog post.

This awkward situation underscores the problems created when faculty search committee recommendations are ignored and when politics and ideology figure so prominently in OBU administrators' decisions about who to hire, honor, and reward.  Many faculty suspect this move is administrators' way to try to justify their decision to overrule the faculty search committee, which unanimously preferred another candidate.  Anyone want to take bets that the Christian apologetics professor wins the award next year?

Student Awards
Last year, when our own Veronica Pistone won the Outstanding Religion student award, the OBU website featured a nice writeup and a picture of Dean Mark McClellan giving her the award.  We're told that Dean McClellan was not too happy that one of last year's most decorated graduates (a woman now studying for the ministry at a non-SBC seminary) has become a prominent figure in the growing opposition to the BGCO's mutually draining stranglehold on OBU.  This year, another woman won the Outstanding Religion award.  But Dean McClellan told the religion professors that "we need to be careful who we choose for this award because we don't want someone getting the award and then using it as platform against OBU."  Thankfully, the faculty convinced the dean that their choice would not "turn" on OBU after she graduated and she won the award she so richly deserved.  However, just to be safe, there is no photograph or press release this year.  (EDIT: Yes, there is: here.)

Oh, and just for the record, perhaps Dean McClellan should consider that maybe his bosses in Thurman and friends in the Baptist Building are the ones who are using their positions as platforms against OBU.  And maybe rather than thinking that some of these "gals" (his term for female religion and ministry students) turned on OBU, he might consider that it is OBU that has turned on women, particularly strong, bright women who reject the fundamentalist vision of "biblical womanhood."

We will continue to monitor the distribution of student and faculty awards in the months and years to come.

Music
Just a quick shout-out to the organist, whoever s/he was.  "How Firm a Foundation" is a wonderfully appropriate graduation prelude and I enjoyed the rendition immensely, as well as the rest of the medley.  Speaking of music, we wish the University Chorale a safe and successful tour this week!  And in the coming weeks, we'll be blogging about changes in the College of Fine Arts under the new regime.

--

So there you have it.  OBU may not be in the throes of a full-on faculty rebellion or a dramatic fundamentalist takeover (yet).  But this week's celebrations definitely papered over a number of important conflicts that exist as a result of OBU's relationship with the BGCO.  We'll continue to keep you informed of progress and changes.

Again, our very best wishes to the OBU Class of 2012!  "May thy spirit guide thy sons, keep thy daughters true!"

The Highest Holy Day

Alleluia Alleluia Alleluia!


The strife is o'er, the battle done
The victory of life is won
The song of of triumph hath begun: Alleluia!


The powers of death have done their worst
But Christ their legions hath dispersed
Let shouts of holy joy outburst: Alleluia!


The three sad days are quickly sped
He rises glorious from the dead
All glory to our risen Head: Alleluia!


He closed the yawning gates of Hell
The bars from heaven's high portals fell
Let hymns of praise his triumphs tell: Alleluia!


Lord, by the stripes which wounded thee
From death's dread sting thy servants free
That we may live and sing to thee: Alleluia!


Alleluia Alleluia Alleluia!

The hymn, translated from Latin by Francis Pott and set to the tune VICTORY by Giovanni de Palestrina, was performed in the video by the choir, organ, and congregation of the incomparable Washington National Cathedral, a true flagship cathedral of liturgical Christianity and of American Protestantism.

This is the fourth in a series on Holy Week.  See previous posts for Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday.

Easter is a wonderful day.  The idea behind it is so tempting, hopeful, and powerful: the triumph of life over death and light over darkness.  For many years when I was younger, I often felt sad and guilty celebrating Easter.  It was a glorious day, but there was one problem: I didn't believe in the literal, historical truth of the central miracle Easter proclaims: that God raised Jesus from the dead.  Don't blame my parents or Sunday school teachers.  I have no doubt that they dutifully taught me the Easter story.  They also taught me that a large white rabbit brought me (and every kid) a basket of candy and colored eggs.  If my belief in the historicity of the resurrection lasted longer than my belief in the Easter Bunny, it wasn't by much.  But I quickly and adeptly perceived which Easter miracle it was socially acceptable for a nice Methodist boy to admit his skepticism about.  From then on, I kept my mouth shut and tried to do what (in the words of Rev. Dr. Robin Meyers of Mayflower United Church of Christ in Oklahoma City) most Christians do: "Believe things they know aren't true in order to get rewards they doubt are even available."

To my great relief, I learned in college that there were, in fact, many strands of the Christian tradition that viewed the Bible's more unlikely stories through an interpretive lens that emphasized the meaning of the stories and the thrust of the entire biblical witness over the literal truth of a few supernatural phenomena.  Now, let me be clear: OBU was not one of those liberal-minded places.  Never has been, never will be, and that's fine.  But for me, just knowing that there might actually be some version of Protestantism that I could believe honestly and with integrity was a tremendous relief.  It provided some very thrilling intellectual and spiritual experiences for me that would propel me through college, graduate school, and a church vocation.

There are a lot of places you can go today to hear some guy's opinion about the meaning of Easter, so I'll spare you mine.  But I really do hope you will grapple with the hard issue that our eggs, baskets, bunnies, pastel clothes, and family dinners (my grandmother always made lamb) make it easy for us to dodge: most pastors and churches are asking you to believe something you may know in your heart is false.  And on that belief hangs plenty of other divine magic tricks of suspect historical validity, an entire theology based on the logic of scapegoating and the efficacy of slaughtered animal blood for situating people on the right side of God's wrath, and the implication that assent to all this is what ultimately defines whether you are "in" or "out" with respect to the church, God, and your own salvation and eternal destiny.

I would just like to submit for your consideration that Easter is about something more than what happened to Jesus' molecules.  Most of you will disagree, and that's fine.  I'm not trying to change your mind about whatever you believe.  But I do hope you will be fearlessly honest with yourself about what you actually believe and why.  (Surprising numbers of people, including born-again Christians, believe in ghosts, witches, UFOs, astrology, and reincarnation.)  Most people will concede that Jonah didn't really get eaten by a fish.  A smaller number will admit that Jesus' mother's pregnancy was started in the usual way.  But only a few will admit that, even though Jesus clearly was special/inspired/enlightened/divine, his molecules were not.  Once you come to terms with that realization, you will have crossed the Rubicon of faith.  It may be unpleasant to tell your pastor/mother/friends.  But on the other side awaits a life of faith that is more honest, searching, challenging, compelling, and meaningful.

A lot of people are concerned that there is a "slippery slope" between orthodoxy and atheism, as this 1922 cartoon depicts.  I would argue that the reverse is true.  If they can get you to believe one impossible, outlandish thing, they can get you to believe anything.  You'll have to stop caring what others think of your beliefs.  It's difficult at first but trust me, it gets easier.  During all those years I believed Easter was primarily about a divine magic trick, I never grasped the fullness of its true meaning.  I was so consumed by the obvious and overwhelming cognitive dissonance and distracted by the eggs, bunnies, pastel-colored ties, and lamb dinners.

Now, free from the burden of trying or pretending to believe in something I know isn't true, I have been able to approach Easter (and its truly glorious art, music, and liturgy) with an unmatched sense of wonder and excitement.  On Friday, I briefly discussed my reservations about the doctrine of penal substitutionary atonement.  That idea necessarily restricts one's view of the resurrection, whereas other theologies of atonement such as Moral Influence or Christus Victor (which the hymn above so beautifully expresses) emphasize the Resurrection more prominently.  I happen to believe that resurrection is literally a metaphor.  We celebrate Easter in the Spring of the year when the whole earth is experiencing a resurrection.  The azaleas, lilies, hydrangeas -- insert your favorite spring foliage and flowers here -- emerge from the cold ground and remind us that life triumphs over death.  The lengthening days following the spring equinox (after which the day is literally longer than the night) remind us of the triumph of light over darkness.  Whatever you believe happened to Jesus' molecules, I hope the grandeur, glory, majesty, and mystery of Easter fills you with joy and wonder today and always.

This I wish for you with all my heart.

Jacob Lupfer
Easter 2012
jlupfer [at] gmail.com

Holy Week 2012

For the next four days, we're taking a break from our incessant barking about the negative changes at OBU over the past 18 months and the many regressions in Baptist life over the past 30 years in general.  It's not that we need a break (regular readers noticed that we took Spring Break off).  It's not even that it is especially impolitic to be critical of religious leaders during Holy Week.  It's just that these days are so significant.  I'd rather write about their meaning and their mystery.

Background
Various events in the past 2 years have ignited our passion for saving OBU from fundamentalist encroachment.  But it's easy to forget that our little movement is just a tiny subset of a vast community that stretches around the world, back across centuries of history, and encompasses not just we who are living but also the Saints Triumphant, that multitude which no one can number (Rev. 7:9).  The people menacing Baptist life are just a small subset of fundamentalists from a diverse but relatively new stream in American Protestantism.  We use categories like "evangelical" today out of convenience, though it obscures massive doctrinal and historical differences and there is tremendous diversity in the evangelical tradition.  The "mainline"/established/institutional strand of American Protestantism, from which the fundamentalists decisively broke an already weak tie to the SBC, represents traditions going back to different Reformations in Europe.  Then, even putting the Orthodox traditions aside (with their own theological distinctives, mystical elements, and geographic strongholds), we have Roman Catholicism, as large as all of Protestantism combined and 1,500 years more ancient.  And even though this is "our" Holy Week, I can't help but think of the wider human family -- Christians' older cousins (Jews) and younger cousins (Muslims) in the Abrahamic/monotheistic tradition.  All this says nothing of the post-Western "next Christendom" about which Philip Jenkins and others write.

Anyway, the thought of all the people around the world past, present, and future for whom this week was, is, and will always be the holiest of the year makes me feel uneasy about doing Save OBU business as usual.  In my lifetime, I've been all over the spectrum in terms of religious belief and devotion.  Holy Week has been a non-event.  Holy Week has been all-consuming.  And it has been everything in between.


As a child and a youth, I remember only occasionally going to services on days other than Sunday.  My United Methodist congregation was not especially liturgical (one pastor aptly described our liturgical style as "high Baptist,") but modest efforts were made to mark the seasons of the church year.  We had a dear church member who made beautiful banners for the various holy seasons.  They changed the paraments in the sanctuary to correspond with the season: red for Pentecost, green for the long season after Pentecost, blue for Advent, purple for Lent.  Palm Sunday included a children's procession of palm branches.  Even though palms are native to Florida, they were so perfectly and identically sized that I later realized they were probably ordered from the Cokesbury catalog (a less overtly ideological United Methodist version of LifeWay).  This was definitely the only Sunday we ever had anything even approximating a "procession."  If I had to guess, the "processional hymn" (such as it was) was probably "Hosanna, Loud Hosanna" and not the more Anglican "All Glory, Laud, and Honor."  I don't remember Good Friday services at all, probably because kids were either in school or on vacation.  But I do remember the occasional Maundy Thursday service (and of course Ash Wednesday).  We never had an Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday.  In fact, I'm certain I was in graduate school before I heard of such a thing and even now, I can't say I've ever attended one.  I do, however, remember that sometimes my dad would take me and my brother to the church the day before Easter and we'd pick up litter in order to make sure that the grounds looked their best for Easter, when a lot of visitors would drop in.  I never told my dad this, but I always thought that was a really nice thing to do and was a true sign of integrity and humility, since no one ever asked him to do it and he never announced his good deed.  He was (is) a prominent community member and has been a faithful lay leader in the congregation, but he was not above picking up gum wrappers and cigarette butts to make sure the church glistened on its holiest day.  Our youth group always led a sunrise service for the community at a lakefront park.  Easter was a day to wear new, pastel-colored clothing (from Penney's though, not from Nordstrom's, just to be clear).  My church had a tradition where a moss-covered cross was placed in the courtyard and each congregant would bring a flower bud to place in the cross.  Most years, we took a family picture in front of that cross.


In college, I felt like Holy Week was a total non-event.  Though I would later discover that my childhood congregation's observance of Holy Week was somewhat less than many mainline churches, it seemed to me that in Southern Baptist life (or at least what I knew of it at OBU), Holy Week wasn't that holy or special.  As I write this, I'm enjoying Holy Thursday off from my Catholic (Jesuit) university, where I'm a Ph.D. student in political science.  I'm pretty sure we always had class on Holy Thursday and Good Friday at OBU.  In seminary at Boston University School of Theology (I did the two-year Master of Theological Studies rather than the M.Div.), I encountered "high church" for the first time in the stunning neo-Gothic Marsh Chapel.  This dynamic was evident year-round, but was on grand display during Holy Week.  I grew to love the liturgy, symbolism, and music -- especially sacred choral music and the rich tradition of Anglican hymnody.


When I went into parish ministry, Holy Week became the busiest week of my year.  Like most young ministers, I determined to remake the church in my own image.  By that point, my personal journey had taken me away from many classical/orthodox doctrines.  But I loved the music, the symbols, and the liturgy of the liberal Protestant tradition.  Since being religious, for me, had more to do with stories and symbols than assent to specific doctrines, I wanted to introduce a more liturgical Christianity to the congregation I served.  I wanted it to mean as much to them as it meant to me.  Needless to say, this effort never went very far and I don't think it was very effective.  In the end, being religious but not spiritual was a bad recipe for an aspiring minister -- I was a paid religious functionary who knew little of God, grace, or true piety.  Though my breakup with the church was a lot more dramatic and sudden than it needed to be, it was a pretty complete separation.  I don't miss the theology or even the community as much as you might expect of someone for whom the church so thoroughly shaped his social, intellectual, and vocational identity.  But I sure do miss the music, liturgy, narrative, and mystery.  Even after I fizzled out of church, it took a few years before Easter Sundays would come and go without me darkening the doors.


Being unchurched or post-churched has been eye-opening.  For some reason, Holy Week has become a time to reassess my own journey as I remember Jesus' journey to the cross.  Like a lot of people my age, I have church people from my "former life" who pity me or resent that I dropped out.  And I have new friends and colleagues who are shocked when they find out that religion was once such a defining force in my life.  Becoming involved with Save OBU has given me an interesting, new perspective on a lot of issues I thought I had left behind.  From age 18 to 26, as I reconciled the faith of my childhood with basic facts of science, history, and other disciplines, I searched desperately for some version of Christianity I could believe honestly and with integrity.  When I finally allowed myself a break from that struggle, I ultimately realized that it just wasn't as important to me as I once thought it was.  But you do find out that with or without you, institutions/churches/denominations are forever caught in power struggles and ideological battles.  When you quit, your "side" comes a little closer to losing.  I think this is basically what happened with the strand of Protestantism with which I identified most closely.  So many of us left church that our "side" ended up losing.  So to those of you who are still "in the trenches," take heart.  A lot is at stake.  Some of us just aren't cut out for it, though.  We have to be true to our own selves.


I'm not sure why I feel compelled to say all this.  I guess I just feel like I've met a lot of new friends through Save OBU and I want to share something of myself with them.  Especially to our student supporters, young alumni, seminarians, and people considering church vocations -- I've been where you are.  My journey has been quite different than I expected (and I've been through a lot of therapy), but I just want to say: Be who you are.  Embrace your struggles with faith.  Endure the dark nights of the soul.  Don't be afraid to question and doubt.  Your faith is yours alone, and not for others to judge.  It may survive; it may not.  But you will survive.  Above all, you need to be able to live with yourself, whether religion is an aid, a hindrance, or a surprising mix of both.


I've worked assiduously to steer clear of political and theological controversies for the sake of a unified movement.  Clearly I lack the bona fides to lead this movement indefinitely.  But because I've been all over the spectrum, I have close friends in all the various camps: fundamentalists who prize obedience and orthodoxy above all else; thoughtful yet believing evangelicals who genuinely and seriously grapple with the hard issues of faith; relatively more enlightened intellectuals who still feel a deep sense of spiritual longing; post-orthodox Christians who insist on a faith they can believe honestly and that can withstand the most rigorous intellectual scrutiny; hangers-on who are church people by tradition but feel deep down that this really isn't their thing; the unchurched (or post-churched) who stay away because they can't abide the authoritarianism, partisan politics, or squelched freedoms; people who are agnostic about doctrines but cherish the community; and atheists who span the spectrum of sympathy for or hostility toward the entire enterprise.


Enough about me and my journey.  This week,  I want to do a few things:

• Show a side of the Christian music/worship/liturgical tradition that some Baptists may not know much about but may nonetheless find enjoyable and meaningful.
• Suggest that there are other ways of understanding Jesus' death and resurrection.  If we see it as more than just a cosmic bargain and a divine magic trick, we might actually magnify its meaning rather than diminish it.
• Argue that increasing our reverence for and observance of Holy Week will stimulate not only piety and devotion but also theological reflection among clergy and laity even as it embodies ecumenism and Christian unity.
• Share little parts of my own story with people who might be struggling with cognitive dissonance and who wonder if there is a place for them in American Protestantism.

Can Baptists Be Liturgical?
As I mentioned above, I was surprised to come to OBU and discover that Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday, and Good Friday were not very high in the Baptist pantheon of holy days (though I noticed that OBU had a Holy Week Chapel yesterday).  The holy season of Lent was a non-event.  A lot of people even gave off a "just another Sunday" vibe about Easter.  I don't know all the reasons behind this difference.  A lot of it may be rooted in the important differences in history, liturgy, and even church architecture between heirs of the "radical Reformation" vs. the "magisterial Reformation."  On the radical side, we have Calvinists and Anabaptists whose heirs typically worship in plainer, sparser settings, whereas on the magisterial side we have Lutherans and Anglicans (and later Methodists) whose worship spaces are typically more ornate and laden with symbols and art.


I certainly don't want to express a value judgment about "low church" vs. "high church," because I've seen firsthand that both have their advantages and limitations.  But I do think that observing Lent and celebrating Easter as the highest holy day offers churches a chance to increase their congregants' faith and devotion as well as their cultural influence in their communities.  It's strange to me that in an overwhelmingly Christian culture, Americans know the holy days and seasons in Judaism and Islam but think Christmas is the highest holy day in Christianity.  Christmas is the holiest season in consumer culture.  Churches should embrace Lent and Easter, if for no other reason than to show the world that we don't rank our holy days based on the whims of consumer trends and the demands of corporations with 4th quarter financial targets to meet.  The number of American Protestants who seriously observe Lent is small.  I think evangelicals and Baptists should consider joining in Lenten devotions.  I'm not just talking about "giving up" chocolate or soda or reading the next, though that may be part of it.  I'm talking about a serious commitment to prayer and self-denial.  The benefits to Christians are obvious, and I think it sends the kind of counter-cultural message the church would like proclaim.


As things stand, the only thing a lot of Protestants know about Lent is that you can get a good deal on Filet-o-Fishes at McDonald's (a lot of Catholics don't eat meat during Lent, especially on Fridays). This year, Major League Baseball's Opening Day coincides with Holy Thursday and Good Friday.  I just think it's interesting that our whole society grinds to a halt for Christmas because the markets demand it.  Yet Lent and Easter come and go with no notice but an uptick in candy sales.  What difference would it make, spiritually and culturally, if tens of millions more American Christians properly observed and celebrated their holiest season and day?

Holy Thursday
We Protestants can be dismissive of what we perceive to be extra-biblical elements in Catholic traditions. But in this case, it's all right there in John chapter 13.  A lot of Protestants observe Holy Thursday.  It's often known as "Maundy Thursday."  Somehow, "Maundy" came into English from the Latin mandatum novum ("new commandment" -- John 13:34).  Though I have never seen it done, a lot of churches observe a rite of foot-washing on Maundy Thursday.  I think the most common observance for Maundy Thursday is the Lord's Supper, since the holiday commemorates Jesus' Last Supper with his disciples.  I have also seen Tenebrae services.  Tenebrae (Latin for "shadows") is a service in a dimly-lit space that features scriptural readins.  After each reading, a candle is extinguished, until worshippers leave in darkness, representing Jesus' agonizing, lonely night in Gethsemane.  


Another rite that is typically performed at the end of Holy Thursday services is the stripping of the altar/church.  Often accompanied by a reading of the 22nd Psalm, all decorative items (crosses, Bibles, etc.) and the purple Lenten paraments are removed in preparation for Good Friday services, in which congregants enter a bare sanctuary.


With all that activity, I'm not sure how seriously preachers or worshippers grapple with the many difficult texts in John 13-17.  But that's another problem for another day, I suppose.  There are so many beautiful and comforting texts to focus on: "A new commandment I give unto you; that ye love one another" (13:34a).  "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.  I do not give as the world gives.  Let not your hearts be troubled neither let them be afraid" (14:27).  Too many to mention.


Here is a Lenten hymn entitled "Ah, Holy Jesus" performed by the organ and choir of the Washington National Cathedral.  I posted the lyrics below.  The tune name is HERZLIEBSTER JESU.

Ah, holy Jesus, how hast Thou offended,
That man to judge Thee hath in hate pretended?
By foes derided, by Thine own rejected,
O most afflicted.

Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon Thee?
Alas, my treason, Jesus, hath undone Thee.
’Twas I, Lord, Jesus, I it was denied Thee!
I crucified Thee.

Lo, the Good Shepherd for the sheep is offered;
The slave hath sinned, and the Son hath suffered;
For man’s atonement, while he nothing heedeth,
God intercedeth.

For me, kind Jesus, was Thy Incarnation,
Thy mortal sorrow, and Thy life’s oblation;
Thy death of anguish and Thy bitter passion,
For my salvation.

Therefore, kind Jesus, since I cannot pay Thee,
I do adore Thee, and will ever pray Thee,
Think on Thy pity and Thy love unswerving,
Not my deserving.


If, by chance, you participate in one of these observances, let us know in the comments or email SaveOBU@gmail.com!