Nostalgia, Conformity and the Prayer Banner

The old men have left the city gate,
the young men their music.
The joy of our hearts has ceased;
our dancing has been turned to mourning.
The crown has fallen from our head;
woe to us, for we have sinned!
Because of this our hearts are sick,
because of these things
our eyes have grown dim . . .
Lamentations 5:14-17

Tonight the Cranston School Committee will meet at Cranston East High to decide whether or not they will appeal the ruling of a Federal Court judge that the prayer banner at Cranston West is unconstitutional and must be removed.

One politician has issued a “call to arms” to defend the banner, and another has called the student who brought the lawsuit, Jessica Ahlquist, “an evil little thing.” People are angry. The young woman has been threatened and insulted repeatedly.

If Jessica Ahlquist had any doubt that she was right to reject religion, the hateful response of people who call themselves Christians has erased that doubt. And ironically, the reaction of those who want the banner to remain represents a total rejection of the values expressed and prayed for in the banner:

Our Heavenly Father,
Grant us each day the desire to do our best,
To grow mentally and morally as well as physically,
To be kind and helpful to our classmates and teachers,
To be honest with ourselves as well as with others,
Help us to be good sports and smile when we lose as well as when we win,
Teach us the value of true friendship,
Help us always to conduct ourselves so as to bring credit to Cranston High School West.
Amen

But this isn’t really about prayer. It’s about nostalgia. It’s about mourning for a way of life that is gone. For supporters, the banner represents a time when life was good and safe; a time of shared values and shared goals. People got married before they had kids. Moms stayed home and took care of the kids. Divorce was rare. The middle class was strong. A high school diploma was a passport to financial security. Men worked for the same companies for thirty or forty years and retired comfortably.

Taking down the banner is one more reminder that those days are gone.

And more than that, it forces us to confront the uncomfortable truth that those days never really existed in the way we want to remember them. Our harmony was built on conformity. We told ourselves that the conformity was voluntarily embraced and universally welcomed. But that’s not really true. Gays were in the closet and blacks were at the back of the bus (literally in the south, and figuratively in the north). Racism and sexism were normative. The disabled were kept far away from the rest of us. We claimed to have homogeneity, but we achieved that by denying any evidence of diversity.

In his defense of the banner, talk show host John DePetro repeatedly insisted that since the banner had been in the gym for fifty years and no one had complained, there was no reason to remove it now. My friend and colleague, Rabbi Amy Levin, of Temple Torat Yisrael in Cranston, presents a very different picture when she talks about discussing the banner with members of her congregation who attended Cranston West when the banner was first put on the wall. She recalls,

“I asked them how they had felt as Jewish students sitting in the auditorium with the prayer banner on the walls. They told me that they felt uncomfortable, that their parents felt uncomfortable with the prominently-displayed school prayer in the room in which the school assembled. They told me that in the 1960s, their parents were afraid to speak about against the presence of that school prayer. Fifty years later, Jessica has given public voice to the discomfort of generations of students who came before her. She has voiced concerns that those parents were hesitant to raise fifty years ago. She has been subjected to the treatment that others feared to bring upon themselves.”

This isn’t about faith and prayer. It’s about nostalgia and conformity. Those values may feel comfortable and desirable, but they are not Christian.

Birth Control and the Catholic Church

Surely, this commandment that I am commanding you today is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away. It is not in heaven, that you should say, “Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?” Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, “Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?” No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe.
Deuteronomy 30:11-15a

Recently I found myself in the odd position of agreeing with the Roman Catholic Church on an issue related to birth control. I planned to write a blog in support of the Catholic hospitals and universities objecting to the government mandate, issued by Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius, a practicing Roman Catholic, requiring them to provide free prescription birth control for all employees.

But two things happened as I headed down that road.

First, I thought about it.

And second, I did some research.

First, the thinking part.

From a Christian perspective, the Catholic Church has the high moral ground on the issue of abortion, just as the pacifists have the high moral ground on issues of war and peace. Those of us who defend a woman’s right to choose an abortion have to do some mental gymnastics to construct a Christian argument. We can get there, but we have to do some significant “work arounds.”

Birth control is another matter. The Catholic objection to birth control is that it contradicts the biblical mandate to “be fruitful and multiply,” and that the purpose of sex is procreation. This comes across as a mean spirited demand that you don’t have a right to enjoy the pleasure of sex unless you are willing to accept the responsibility of taking care of however many children such pleasure might produce. But it’s worse than that, because the church doesn’t really recognize the pleasure part as having any value at all. They affirm the intimacy of sexual relations only in the context of procreation.

The objection is biblically, theologically, and morally flawed. And almost no one agrees with the Catholic Church on this. A recent poll showed that 98% of all Roman Catholic women had used birth control.

And then the research part.

It turns out that twenty-eight states already have laws requiring Roman Catholic hospitals and universities, like other religious and secular institutions, to have health insurance coverage for prescription birth control. And in December 2000, the federal Equal Employment Opportunity Commission ruled that failure to provide such coverage violates the 1978 Pregnancy Discrimination Act. And those determinations have already been tested in the courts and ruled constitutional. Most employers are already required to provide that coverage in their health plans.

What is new is the requirement that birth control prescriptions be provided without a co-pay or any other additional cost to the employee. So the whole argument comes down to the co-pay.

For employees at the lower end of the pay scale, the co-pays are significant. For employers, the co-pays actually reduce overall health-care costs by preventing complicated and unwanted pregnancies.

The problem with the co-pay from the perspective of Catholic hospitals and univesities is that without a cost to the employee they believe they are actually buying the contraceptives, rather than allowing the employee to buy them at a reduced cost.

The reality is that women who have access to birth control are healthier than those who do not. That sounds pro-life to me.

At the same time, when the real disagreement is really so small, I wish it had been handled with more sensitivity.

Winning, Losing and What Really Matters

All who pass along the way clap their hands at you;
they hiss and wag their heads at daughter Jerusalem;
“Is this the city that was called the perfection of beauty,
the joy of all the earth?”
All your enemies open their mouths against you;
they hiss, they gnash their teeth, they cry:
“We have devoured her!
Ah, this is the day we longed for;
at last we have seen it!”
The LORD has done what he purposed,
he has carried out his threat;
as he ordained long ago,
he has demolished without pity;
he has made the enemy rejoice over you,
and exalted the might of your foes.
Lamentations 2:15-17

I could not read about the game this morning.

When my team wins, I read the sports pages as if they were sacred text. I look at all of the pictures. I read what the winners said and what the losers said. I look for the human interest stories. It is a salvation history. Even if my team was favored, it still seems like a miracle.

As I read the stories, I can see the game unfolding and I relive the best moments. And then I want to turn on ESPN and see the same plays over and over.

But when my team loses, the world is darkness and not light. I cannot read the commentary or watch the replays on television. And I cannot stand the preening of the victors.

All of this is crazy, of course. It’s just a game. And in spite of our pathological determination to make believe that the games are determined by character and skill, the truth is that the distance between victory and defeat is often more complicated than that.

Yesterday our Youth Group collected money for the annual “Souper Bowl of Caring,” a nationwide youth program that raises funds for community food banks and soup kitchens around the country. Yesterday they collected more than five hundred dollars, and they raised more than two thousand dollars by making and selling pizzas. It was a great effort.

Since the “Souper Bowl” program began twenty years ago, the organization has raised more than $80 million dollars. This sounds like a lot, until you compare it to the total amount spent on the game, which was estimated at over $11 billion. The total amount raised to feed hungry people over the past twenty years is less than 1% of the amount spent on the game this year.

And that puts the notion of winning and losing in a very different perspective.

Where is our sense of proportion?

I love football.

The Super Bowl is a bizarre event on many different levels. But that is not the point. The problem is not that we care too much about a game, but that we care too little about so many other really important things in the world. Hungry people are just a start.

Still, except for the final score, it was a great game.

The Guy in the Flannel Shirt

For the LORD
takes pleasure
in his people;
he adorns the humble
with victory.
Psalm 149:4

Today I am wearing a red plaid flannel shirt in honor of Joe Garrahy who passed away yesterday at the age of eighty-one.

I was not a big fan of Governor Garrahy when he took office in 1977. The idea that our governor was a former beer salesman who never finished college, and worked his way up the political ladder by not offending anyone seemed like the punch line to a bad Rhode Island joke. Looking back, the ability to get along with people seems more valuable in a politician now than it did then.

Those of us who were here for the “Blizzard of ‘78” remember Governor Garrahy’s daily updates on television wearing a plaid flannel shirt. His steady and reassuring presence was an important part of guiding the state through that emergency and that is the image that most Rhode Islanders will remember.

Possibly in the spring of that same year, I was in my office at Mathewson Street Church in Providence late in the afternoon when the phone rang. The voice on the other end said, “Hi, this is Joe Garrahy, is this Reverend Trench?” At that time, I chaired the Social Action Department of the Rhode Island State Council of Churches. We had taken a stand in opposition to something that the Governor was advocating, and he called to discuss the issue. He explained why he was taking the position that he did and I explained the concerns raised by the Council of Churches. He did not change my mind, but he did change how I thought about him, and the conversation led me to reflect more deeply on the issues.

In an overwhelmingly Catholic state, the Council of Churches has never been a big player in state politics, so I was amazed that he would call at all. And he didn’t have is secretary set up the call. And he did not introduce himself as “Governor Garrahy.” He was just “Joe.”

Later the Council worked with the Governor to pass a hand-gun safety bill and I was invited to his office for the signing. On that issue he stood up to considerable pressure from the gun lobby and went against many in his own party. In many ways he was the ultimate political insider and the consummate party politician, but he had principles and he did not like the wheeling and dealing that goes with the political games.

As he prepared to leave office in late 1984, he was asked how he wanted to be remembered. He said that he hoped Rhode Islanders would remember him as "conscientious" and "sensitive."

"I hope they remember me as a governor who worked hard and tried to do the best he could for his state, and that when I made decisions, I always tried to make them in what I thought was the best interest of the entire state."

I have seen Governor Garrahy twice in the last few years. Both times he was attending funerals for former members of our church. On each occasion he was careful not to call attention to himself. With his wife, Margherite, he was there for friends. It was not about him.

Joe Garrahy was not a great political theorist. He was not a policy wonk. He was not a charismatic public speaker. He was not a crusader. And he was not without his faults. But if we remember him as just “a nice guy,” we miss the point. He was a good person, who simply wanted to do the best he could for his state. He did good things, and he had no great sense of his own importance, and that is rarer than it should be.

A Lament for the Kicker

Turn to me, O LORD, and be gracious to me,
for I am lonely and afflicted.
Relieve the troubles of my heart,
and bring me out of my distress.
May integrity and uprightness preserve me,
for I wait for you.
Psalm 25:16-17, 21

For real football fans the two weeks between the Conference Championships and the Super Bowl are a secular version of Lent or maybe Purgatory, only worse. We enter into a wilderness of inane chatter and silly predictions. The history of every player will be presented as a morality play and the GAME will be talked about as if it had cosmic consequences. And in the end, most of the time, when we finally get to the Super Bowl it will not live up to the hype and the football will be lost in an avalanche of long (but clever!) advertisements, and a half-time show that will seem to go on for eternity.

Why can’t they just play the game?

But yesterday was wonderful.

And sad at the same time. The games were close and they were exciting. But in the end they were won on mistakes rather than accomplishments. The Giants won because of a fumbled punt return. And the Patriots won because of a missed field goal.

When he was asked about the missed field goal, Raven’s linebacker Ray Lewis said, “One play didn’t win or lose the game. There is no one man who has ever lost a game . . . It happens. Move on, move on, because life doesn’t stop.”

And it’s true. The Ravens had many chances to win. And the Patriots had many chances to put the game out of reach. But the missed field goal was the one that ended it. And that is the one that will be remembered.

Years ago there was a study of fan reactions, and one of the conclusions was that the pain felt in losing lasted longer than the joy felt in winning. I think it was a study of Pittsburgh Steeler fans. And I think it was during their great Super Bowl years in the mid-seventies. (And I could be just remembering it that way because it fits my narrative.) In any case, it rings true.

And within all of that, field goal kickers have a special place. Most of the time, we can’t see the missed assignments. We don’t know what a defensive scheme was really supposed to look like. And we don’t know how a play was supposed to be run. But we can see the kicker. And we can see whether he makes it or misses it. And it does not look as hard as it is.

So Billy Cundiff will be remembered as Scott Norwood is remembered.

A year or two ago he was in the Pro Bowl. And this year he was very accurate inside of forty yards. But none of that mattered on Sunday.

He answered the inevitable questions with class and dignity. The field goal was makeable. He just missed it. There were no excuses.

“It’s one of those situations that will strengthen me in the end,” Cundiff said. “Throughout my career, I’ve had challenging situations and I’m still standing here today. It’s something that is going to be tough for a while, but I’ve got two kids and there are some lessons I need to teach them. First and foremost is to stand up and face the music and move on.”

I would have been happier if the Patriots had just made a couple of first downs on their last drive.

All or Nothing

I am no longer my own, but yours.
Put met to what you will, rank me with whom you will;
put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed by you or laid aside by you,
enabled for you or brought low by you.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things
to your pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
you are mine, and I am yours. So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven.
Amen.

John Wesley’s Covenant Prayer is a response to the invitation Jesus gives to everyone who wants to be a disciple, “to deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Mark 8:34).

In many Methodist churches, it is a tradition to begin the New Year with a service of Covenant renewal which centers on this prayer. But for Wesley, the prayer was more than an annual tradition, it was a daily commitment.

It is hard for us in the context of the modern world to relate to a prayer which seems so strangely worded. And if we are honest we know that the problem is not just that the words are archaic. If we understand it at all, we know that it runs counter to everything we value.

We want self-affirmation, not self-denial.

When we seek God’s blessing, we are seeking God’s approval for our lives as we choose to live them. We are not seeking God’s purpose for our lives.

It is good, once in a while to sit still and center ourselves in the uncomfortable presence of God and ask ourselves what it means to submit our will to the purposes of God.

In the words of the Prophet Micah, “He has told you, O people, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

Tim Tebow's God

He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray.”
Luke 11:1

The Tim Tebow debate continues.

An extraordinary number of people are offended by his public piety. I am not a big fan of public piety. And, as I have said before, I doubt that I would agree with him on theology or social issues. But I am much more concerned about the language of the debate, which reveals that a large number of supposedly educated people don’t know very much about Christian theology.

A common statement from Tebow’s “defenders” is that he has every right to “pray to his God.”

It sounds like Tebow is praying to his personal Lares and Penates, the Roman household gods who protected hearth and home. Every Roman family had its own guardian deity, called the Lar familiaris to protect them. Statues were placed on the table at meal times and special family events, and kept in a sacred family shrine. The gods were convenient, portable, dependable, and uncomplicated.

Does it matter? I think it matters a lot.

Consider the difference in these two statements:
Tim Tebow has every right to pray.
Tim Tebow has every right to pray to his God.

Isn’t the second statement more limited?

Matthew says that Jesus went up to the mountain alone to pray. He didn’t pray “to his God.” He just prayed. And the same is true for us. We just pray.

Of course, we pray to God, but we don’t pray to our own personal “god.” (Okay, some people really do pray to their own personal “gods,” but that’s not considered a Christian practice.)

When Jesus instructs his disciples to say, “Our Father,” it is a universal reference. It does not limit God, but expands our understanding. We are all sisters and brothers. When the prophet Micah says what the Lord requires, “To do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God,” it is a universal reference. The point is not that God belongs to us, but that we belong to God. We don’t possess God. God possesses us. As the Psalm says, “We are his people and the sheep of his pasture.”

To speak of Tim Tebow’s right to “pray to his God,” diminishes and limits our understanding of what prayer is and who God is. It makes God (seem) smaller. It is like speaking of God with a small “g.” God is the Ground of our Being and the Ultimate Reality in our lives. You can’t put that in your pocket or carry it on a key chain.