10 Interesting Observations About the 500th Anniversary of the Protestant Reformation

1. In the year we remember the 500th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation, the great schism that gave birth to our vision of Christianity, some United Methodists are fighting tooth and nail to maintain the status quo.

2.  As children of the reformation, our reluctance to consider schism (regardless of your theological perspective), seems disingenuous.   Our ancestry.com results are conclusive: we are schismatics.

3. Protestantism is the product of painful division. It’s who we are. We’re not above it, too good for it, or beyond it.  It’s in our DNA.

4. Perhaps, every 500 to 1000 years, it’s time for Reformation. It’s happened before.  It will happen again.  Why should history stop with our own generation? No one now believes Francis Fukyama was correct with the grand pronoucements about the “End of History” following the collapse of the Soviet Union.  Why is the church immune from what’s happening to the rest of society?  It’s not.  To believe any different is the height of arrogance.  Instead of saving us, it may mark our downfall.

5. United Methodists are as related to Martin Luther as to John Wesley. Both men were schismatic revolutionaries. Wesley’s writings, while calling for unity, led to the greatest rupture in the Church of England since the English Civil War. Words are one thing; actions are another. You can’t call for unity in print and do everything in practice to start a new movement.

6. Reformation is great; as long as you’re reading about it in church history books. (Or a tourist in Wittenberg or Oxford.)

7. When Reformation becomes a real possibility and sources of ecclesiastical power are threatened, you’d be surprised the lengths the church will go to shut down debate, name so-called heretics, and reclaim its authority.

8. Reformation is not a conservative or liberal issue. It’s a holistic call for systemic denominational change.

9. Neither Martin Luther nor John Wesley sought centrism within Catholicism or Anglicanism. They created their own path.  Europe’s not 100% Roman Catholic.  Methodism is alive in England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales.  Had either man been a centrist, I’d be an Anglican, America would still be British, and Angela Merkel would still be a Communist Chemist in a formerly Catholic country.

10. #Reformation

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Open Source Theology

Creativity is one of the most important means of keeping the church and ministry from stagnating.  Clergy and local churches need fresh, new ideas in order to foster and awareness of the ongoing possibilities of the gospel.  Pastors and church communities are urged to develop their own concepts and initiatives which might work well in their community.  Books and programs (ranging from Vacation Bible School to small group studies) worth millions of dollars are sold to congregations each year for this express purpose:  offer something new, different, and exciting.  Our churches can purchases “newness” by the box or kit.  New ideas, even ones that come prepackaged in shrink-wrap, are vital to church growth and survival.  However, our embrace of openness and newness only goes so far.

These kits, programs, and packages represent a type of “open source” thinking.  They are available to everyone but only those who are available to purchase them.  The creativity and inspiration sold by Cokesbury (and others) isn’t free or genuinely open source.  It’s open, but at a premium.

For something to be truly open source, such as software, the original source code must be freely available and open for distribution or modification.  Open source ideas aren’t bound by copyright rules.  You don’t worry about getting sued for photocopying music or mixing songs.  Open means open.  If something is open source, you can change, use, modify, the actual thing (not ideas or derivatives about a thing).  Open source innovators have immense creative ability to go in any direction.

How would “open source” theology look in contemporary United Methodism? It’s already here.  I argue that “open source” theology is at the heart of the major theological issues dividing United Methodism. I think it sounds like a great idea.  There’s a problem.  To go “open source” means openness.  It also means the powerful lose a measure of their control.

The idea of “open source” theology frightens many people on the theological, cultural, and political right in contemporary United Methodism.  Why?  They want to control the source code.  What is the source code?  In our context, the source code is the scripture and the creeds.  The source code is the part of the software that most people never see.  It’s written, maintained, and controlled by the developers. (That’s us:  the clergy, district superintendents, bishops, seminary trained elites, conference delegates.)  We guard the code.  We manipulate and change how the code works.  If it’s interpreted one way or another, the code comes through our hands. Our code, by the way, is over 2000 years old.  In the case of the Old Testament; the code is 6000 years old.  Some of our programmers refuse to issue bug fixes for a six thousand year old code which still advocates plural marriage, slavery, and the death penalty.  See what I mean?  Isn’t it time to open up this process to a wider, more collaborative audience?

Open source software is software that anyone can enhance, modify, or improve.  What would it look like to have a theology that was open to modifications and improvement from an entire denomination (at the local church level)?  What kind of creativity might this inspire?

To some extent, I’m talking about the Social Principles.  I’m also referring to the Creeds and parts of scripture.  What would this kind of “open source” theology do to the ability of some (in United Methodism) to exercise control over an entire denomination, if the doors to the Bible and the Creeds were wide open for everyone?  There should be nothing proprietary or closed source about being the body of Christ.  After all, who are we to decide anything on behalf of the creator of the cosmos?  It would make it much harder to divide and conquer the body of Christ on misreading of scripture.  The Bible is a gift that was never meant to be guarded in private, interpreted alone, or changed in secret. Hack our theology, leak it to the world.

Richard Lowell Bryant

It’s Almost Time

An Annual Conference Journal

Ocracoke-Preparing for Greenville, NC

Leaving at Dawn on the Swan Quarter Ferry

June 15, 2017

Are you ready for fun?  Have you picked your breakout sessions yet?  I’m having trouble getting my mind around leaving.  It’s not what you think.  I need a break.  Things here will go just fine without me.  A Sunday off will do me a world of good.  For me, it’s much more basic.  My brain hasn’t caught up to the fact it’s Thursday and we’re leaving tomorrow.  To my addled mind, it’s still last Thursday and I’m preparing for weddings which ended in divorce weeks ago.

The ministry, by that I mean, the day to day work of being a pastor, hasn’t helped matters.  Ministry doesn’t stop because you’re going away or even when you empower others to be agents of influence and change.  See what I did there?  I used fancy leadership jargon.  I feel dirty.  It’s a good thing I live near the ocean.  Life happens even when you prepare, plan, and do everything you’re told do before you leave the pulpit for a day, week, month, or year.

At the beginning of the week, a member of our community was swimming in the water of the island.  Derek dove into a shallow spot he didn’t see or expect.  He received extremely serious spinal and neurological injuries.  Derek’s a great guy in the prime of life and in excellent health.  In a moment, it all changed forever.  From Monday afternoon, the enter focus of my week has shifted in trying to care for people asking the most fundamental questions:  Why? What next?  How can we help?

If you’ve read any of these posts over the past few months, you know that we’ve had more than our fair share of evil.  From serious natural disasters, cancer, suicides, shark attacks, domestic abuse, and now a freak accident; hope is taking a beating.  The platitudes and clichés we see on social media fall on deaf ears.  We gathered in the church two mornings ago and waited for a word from God.  We waited in silence.   Names were called, gratitude was offered, the Spirit was thanked, and we waited.  This silence from God is deafening.  I try to hear God in our breathing.  I try to see God in our presence.  We lean on each other’s everlasting arms because that is what we can touch and feel.  When it’s all said and done, we are left waiting.

Derek is in a hospital about five minutes from where annual conference is being held.  Tomorrow afternoon, as soon as I arrive and grab my name tag, I’m leaving the building.  I’m not going to a session, or to say hello to friends, to complain about the budget, or gripe about our position on climate change.  I’m going to see Derek and Callie.  If I’m going to hear God, I don’t think it’s going to be in the opening session of an annual conference.  No one has ever been saved through the effective use of Robert’s Rules of Order.  If God’s around and wants to really move out of the silence, it’s going to happen in a hospital room where doubt and hopelessness have set up shop and refused to be moved.  I’m going to be there, in that room, because I want know: when will the silence end?  Those are questions worth asking.  One day, I’ll tell you how I voted.

Richard Lowell Bryant

Surely Mr. Bryant, You Must Be Joking?

Robert E. Lee on the Portal of Duke Chapel

Over the past few weeks, officials in New Orleans have begun to remove Confederate monuments around the city. This past weekend, protests erupted in Charlottesville, Virginia at the idea of removing statues of Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson and Robert E. Lee and renaming a prominent thoroughfare after someone other than General Jackson. The protestors in Virginia, made notable by the presence of white nationalist leader Richard Spencer were met by a chorus of Black Lives Matters marchers and others who take issue to these monuments.

History is complex.  Even today, debating Civil War history is a mess; as the President’s attempts to explain the economic and social origins of the Civil War revealed. Good, bad, and indifferent people disagree about the cause of the war and what place the war should hold in American society. On one side, so the argument goes, the war is part of our past, it’s who we are. The other side argues that public art and statuary glorifying a military to struggle to preserve a way of life built on racism and slavery no longer deserves a prominent place in American culture.

I’m of the mind to agree with those who want to remove and replace the statues. (On a side note, when the Russians took down most of the Soviet era statues of Lenin and Communist era figure heads in Moscow they placed them in a public park. In the larger provincial towns outside of Moscow, Lenin still stands in far too many places.)  So, if we’re in the mood to remove grand edifices which were built as temples to segregation, racism, slavery, and a way of life no longer existing in 21st century in America, we need to dismantle the United Methodist Church.

One of my favorite books is entitled, “Surely Mr. Feynman, you must be joking?” No, I’m not. It’s time to remove ourselves from the public square, sphere, space, and reconstitute as something new. I’m the pastor of a church chartered in 1943. Before that, my previous congregation was chartered in 1941. Here in the rural south, where opposition to change in the Book of Discipline is greatest, are hundreds of churches born in the Jim Crow era. Our churches are monuments, statues, temples, constructed in a pre Civil Rights Act, Brown vs. Board of Education, and in many cases, a Plessy v. Ferguson United States of America.

Our ancient buildings (many with the name Centenary-signifying their foundation in the late 1870’s) represent the past as much as a statue of Stonewall Jackson. It’s no accident that Robert E. Lee stands shoulder to shoulder with Martin Luther, John Knox, Sidney Lanier, Thomas Jefferson, and John Wesley. On Methodism’s cathedral, in the heart of the North Carolina Annual Conference, Robert E. Lee and John Wesley are separated by a few feet of Virginia stone.

Yes, Virginia, churches are monuments to the Civil War. This is a much larger quandary at Duke University than Professor Paul Griffiths being forced to attend a diversity seminar.  What do you do with the Commander of the Army of Northern Virginia on your big fancy church?  If those at Duke’s Divinity School (from which I graduated) or the university proper really want to address racism they should look across the quad.  Similarly, if United Methodism wants to be indignant at racial or sexual discrimination we can start by looking at ourselves before waging war with the culture at large.

Robert E. Lee should be removed from Duke Chapel.  You want to know the truth, having two reluctant slave owners on the front of Duke Chapel is two slave owners too many. That’s the most racist thing on Duke’s campus. If you’re going to get mad and tear everything down, let’s do it all; including the monumental legacy of United Methodism. The Book of Discipline must first be removed from its pillar.  The revolution will start in the small churches. The new Methodism, the conversations about the past, the future, and living into the resurrection will be locally led.

Will it happen? Will revolutionaries tear down the United Methodist Church? No. We may fall apart but we don’t have enough on the ball to come apart with insurgent aplomb.  However, we might stop using words like schism. We do not need schism. Finely tuned doctrinal arguments over disciplinary angels dancing on the head Wesleyan Covenantal pins will only turn United Methodism into a dying subsidiary of an already co-opted American evangelical movement.

We need revolution from the ground up. The selective use of righteous indignation is killing our credibility to be effective witnesses to the Good News. Are we only mad when Ann Coulter goes to  UC Berkeley or Richard Spencer goes to UVA and touches our guilty nerves? Why are we not angrier with ourselves when we live within institutions unwilling to address their own history? Why are we so surprised that discrimination against innocent people who want to serve Jesus remains the most threatening idea the church can undertake?   I know why.  It’s far more fun to dissect emails from crotchety old professors.  Statues in Charlottesville seem a long way from the front steps of the divinity school.  We’re wearing blinders.  And like the Civil War, both sides are certain God is with them.  Although, after the past year, I’m not sure God would invite any of us over for dinner.

It’s About How We View God

Totems and Statues of Various Gods and Goddesses, Sigmund Freud’s Desk, London

What’s wrong with us? That’s the question on my mind as the Judicial Council begins to meet this week. Why can’t we fix this and move on? How did we get to the point where these “issues” became issues? We are where we are. There are far more important topics we, as a church, should be addressing. War is coming to northeast Asia and Russia’s growing threats to liberal democracy are the first which come to mind. I don’t know what the United Methodist Church can do about thermonuclear war but that’s far more important to humanity than removing (or even considering the removal of) Bishop Karen Oliveto.

In one way we are distracted by a sense of our own self-importance. We believe our attempts to resolve ancient debates between scripture and Christian doctrine matter more than they actually do. We are in love with the perpetual crises which are keeping the denomination on life support. These issues matter to us and we are a fairly small audience at the moment. Focused inward, we get to justify our ignorance of the world around us. The world is concerned about Marine Le Pen (denier of the Vichy regime’s role in the Holocaust), a government shutdown, and a nuclear war in Korea at the moment. Methodism’s ongoing battles aren’t figuring in large in global affairs. I worry the world has moved on and is now in far too dangerous a place for us to be leisurely considering human sexuality as if it’s not one minute to midnight.  We don’t have time for this.

We live in a world where gay and lesbian people, Christians, atheists, believers, and non believers must coexist.  I don’t mean the bumper sticker on the back of a Subaru kind of coexistence.  The world is far too dangerous a place to exclude anyone qualified from the church’s ministry.  Our doors should never be closed.   We need all the help we can get. Are United Methodists going to be the only denomination still debating the place of lesbian and gay persons in the church if Kim Jong-un obliterates Seoul? At this rate, I’d say so. That, I’m afraid, will make us look behind the humanitarian and theological curve.

To some observers, United Methodism’s problems are systemic: there is disrespect for the Book of Discipline, church tradition, Episcopal authority, and scripture itself. I see the basis of these critiques and understand them. Yet, I don’t think they point to the real problem. Methodists, on either side of the human sexuality debate, have vastly different ideas of God. Apart from dogma, the Discipline, or even Wesleyan tradition; there is a fundamental divide among how United Methodists view God.

Is God love? Do we say God is love and when we say God is love do we mean it or are we lying to ourselves and others? Do we believe in a loving God? That’s the line. Is it possible to believe that God loves her creations and then condemns them for being who she created? I argue no. So yes, I will deny the Bible’s authority on this issue.  However, I will not question the evidence of God’s love I see before my eyes.

–Richard Lowell Bryant

Richard’s Guide To Apocalyptic Pastoral Care

It is hard not to develop an apocalyptic world view after a major hurricane, extensive property damage, the rise of hunger and unemployment in your small community, and people dying. Winter was hard and spring doesn’t seem to be any easier. The cancer diagnoses and the words “stage iv” keep being bandied about like new players for the Red Sox or Yankees. My family, the congregation I serve, is dealing with one death after another. I am tired. The grieving seems endless. Resurrection is an idea we’ve only had the opportunity to discuss in worship between funerals and discussing new diagnoses.   This isn’t me being glib.  I’m just looking at the calendar.  This Easter (and the week after) God seems to have gone on vacation.   If you see Her, tell Her to call.

Welcome to Richard’s guide to apocalyptic pastoral care.  What do I do?  I listen more than I speak. I don’t know what to say. I never did really, isn’t that what they teach you in pastoral care. Just listen, be present. When I do stand up and turn to the service of death and resurrection, I’ve read the opening “Gathering and Greeting” so many times now, I swear the congregation is mouthing the words along with me. Our death rituals have become predictable, set piece dramas. No one is looking for the twist at the end. I say Sunday is coming. I quote Tony Campolo. I receive blank stares. My community wants to tell me what their oncologist said, they don’t want to know Tony Campolo’s clichés. I listen. Then I pray. We pray. No one turns down prayer.

1. Never go visiting on an empty stomach. Not because you’re expecting to be fed but you’re not yourself if you’re hungry. (See Snickers commercials.)

2. Take some tissues. Be prepared to cry.

3. Keep your hands free to hug.

4. Practice saying the words, “I don’t know”. Use them. Don’t make stuff up.

5. Silence is better than religious gibberish.

6. When I need to say something, I sometimes ask “what would my dad say?”

7. Let others speak.

8. Remember John Donne: Death Be Not Proud

9. You’re not there to fix God’s role in human mortality. No fixing aloud.  Don’t be Job’s friends.

10. Pray before you leave.  Put words to your feelings.

Mississippi Isn’t Burning: Lighten Up

flag_of_mississippi-svg

1. Between the two churches (Getwell Road and The Orchard), they don’t equal the size of one congressional district. Come back screaming “the sky is falling” when you’ve got more numbers in play.

2. How is it “big” news that mega church Methodists in Mississippi (a state that’s overwhelmingly Republican, voted for Donald J. Trump, and still has the Confederate flag on the state flag) aren’t pleased with the general direction of the United Methodist Church? If you’re shocked by this and think it’s indicative of national trends, there’s a seat for you on the National Security Council.

3. Do we honestly need more stuff to wring our hands about? Theological tizzies are just fine but I’m running out of room to care about people pissed off about the direction of Methodism. If you’ve not noticed, the country’s being driven by a self-tanning addict who thinks Sweden was  just attacked.

4. There are people in my church who are not exactly thrilled with Methodism but they are more worried about how to pay for their health care costs. Some are worried about being deported.  If you’ve got time to worry about who owns your church and pays your preacher, you must have no other concerns. What a privileged life you lead.  Your gas tank is full, your kids have college paid for, and your grandparents have good elder care. You are blessed.  I know they are proud of their self-righteousness.

5. Whatever image of Methodism these churches held it was delusional. They know God, Jesus, the Bible, and Wesleyan doctrine better than the rest of us. That kind of narcissism isn’t healthy. I’ll keep praying for them. Maybe they can get a bulk rate on group therapy.  Mass psychosis isn’t anything new.  It makes me mad when the rest of us decide to play along.  Don’t give them the coverage they crave.  Let them go and as my  grandmother always said, “Don’t let the door hit your butt on the way out.”