"Comeback Elvis" as Allegory?

Been humming this tune ever since my post the other day about being Lonesome.

can't. get. out. of. head.

Anyway - does this song work as an allegory? Is Elvis God (metaphorically, of course)? Is He singing to the Church? Or to us individually? Not saying it was written or performed with that in mind, but its made me think all day long.

Give it a watch/listen:

Bump in the Road

I've spoken before in this space about my own struggles with the proper place in our community for openly gay and lesbian believers. Here's a thought-provoking article from the Presbyterian Outlook on that topic.

While the article doesn't address ever concern I have, it does offer a new way of approaching the issue - its the story of a self-described "orthodox evangelical" who's service on the PCUSA's Commission on Peace, Unity, and Purity led to a different perspective on the G&L ordination question.

USC prof's new book: 'Americans like lonesome'

USC prof's new book: 'Americans like lonesome' - Local / Metro - TheState.com

OK - this is one I will have to read.

This USC professor's thesis is that Americans enjoy being lonesome - not lonely, which he insists is an entirely different emotion. Lonesome is solitude coupled with a "profound sense of otherness" says the professor, and I think I get what he is saying. Its a sort of longing for a consummation, but a having bittersweet appreciation of your current unfulfilled state.

To put it in Upstate Carolina venacular, its being happy and sad all at the same time because you think you're not ready to fix what's bothering you but think you might soon be, but probably not because it feels like its bigger than you and inside you at the same time.

Make sense?

Does Your Elevator Go All the Way to the Top?

Buried among the multitudinous stories on the inter webs was an interesting bit about a recent ruling by a leading Israeli rabbi forbidding the use of elevators on the sabbath .

The ruling, which overturns decades of existing rabbinical practice, complicates the lives of thousands upon thousands of Orthodox Jews who now find their dwellings in high-rises and skyscrapers woefully difficult to reach. In the past, special elevators were programmed to stop on every floor without passengers having to touch the buttons, and were therefore considered not to be "used" by the passengers in contravention of the sabbath prohibition against electrical appliances.

But no longer. With the new ruling, Jews wishing to observe the electrical prohibition will have to climb stairs on Saturdays, which may not sound like a big deal to those of us who live in rural South Carolina. But if you live on the fortieth floor of a city apartment, you may now find it better to stay in all day.

I certainly respect the Orthodox Jews who seek to follow this new ruling. They will show their gratitude for God's gift of the law by carefully planning ahead and avoiding the use of the elevator from now on. But I would be less than honest if I didn't confess that it all seems a little silly to me.

Of course, we Christians have our own elevators, don't we? Just this week I read where the Episcopalians in South Carolina recently voted to distance themselves from the U.S. branch of the Anglican Communion due to the national bodies decision to sanction same-sex unions. Interestingly, this decision comes at the same time that the Vatican is extending an invitation to disaffected Anglicans, making it easier for many practicing Episcopalians to join the Catholic Church while retaining their order of worship and even their married clergy.

I can admit that I've struggled with these issues myself. At times I think that the church should avoid the issue of homosexuality altogether, and allow society at large to reach a consensus before taking a further divisive stand. At other times, I think the church should be out in front of the issue, either for or against, and maintain its place as an advocate for a better society.

But in these times of fracture and declining church membership, should we be obsessing with issues of sexuality at the expense of other important issues such as poverty, justice, and peace? In other words, are our mental elevators getting stuck below our waistlines? Are we, as peoples of God, obsessed with sexuality?

I don't have the answers here - but I do think these are interesting questions.

Where to Next?

This morning we wrapped up our six week discussion on the Great Ends of the Church. It was our first tentative step away from straight forward lectionary musings. While I enjoyed the focus and the challenge that the Great Ends provided, more than one member of our online community expressed some ambivalence about the topics (the folks in class at PPC were probably too polite to admit such feelings).

So the question presents itself: where to next? What's the next stop on the Emmaus Road?

I still think the class (or maybe just me) needs a break from reflecting on the lectionary every week. So I decided to talk instead in this space about a book I just started reading, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Don Miller. The in-class folks seem excited about the book, so we will start up next week with some sort of natural division (2 chapters or 3 chapters a week).

In the meantime, I'm not really sure how the blog can follow along with a book I'm slowly reading. I fear that a blog about a book might become a synopsis or a book review, and might not be very interesting, especially to those who aren't reading the book.

Ssssoooooo. It might be time for a divorce. Or maybe not a divorce, but at least a trial separation. I think I might blog about a variety of topics, things that suggest themselves in my life or in the church's life or in the world at large. The book, in the short term, will probably influence what I'm blogging about, but won't be the main topic for the blog.

'Course, that doesn't mean you should ignore the book - read it if you like of course. For those of you on the fence (or for you in-class PPC folks), here's a preview from the author:

The Sixth Great End

The Exhibition of the Kingdom of Heaven to the World.

Reread that.

No way are we doing that in our lives, or in our church, or in our community, or in our country.

No way.

Its a good thing I'm a Reformed Christian, because an ideal that asks me to exhibit heaven to the world makes me feel totally depraved and totally unable to accomplish the task.

How can I spread heaven here on earth?

Those of you well schooled in reformed theology might be yelling at your computer screen right now, saying "YOU can't! Only GOD can! But he might decide to use your sorry rear-end as a means of his grace, so buck up and get ready!"

And that's probably good advice.

So thanks, um . . . imaginary person who might have yelled at your computer, yeah, thanks.

As for the rest of you (the real people) - how can we do this Great End? Where might we be doing it now?

A Social Gospel?

This week's Great End is the Promotion of Social Righteousness. To characterize something as either possessing or lacking social righteousness almost sounds new age or politically correct to me. But surprisingly, all these Great Ends date back almost one hundred years.

The 20th century was called the "Christian Century" by many mainline Christians, especially in its early decades. This religious moniker came about as a result of widespread optimism in the church. The widespread opinion of the day was that God had entrusted the developed world to the hands (and hearts and minds?) of the modern church in order for it to guide society into a new golden age.

Um, yeah. How'd that work out for us?

Actually, the idea is even older than that, as John Calvin spent much of his time in 16th century Geneva arguing for better health care, public education, and even improved sewer systems, all under the theory that the right exercise of religion REQUIRED the faithful to make improvements in the political and social realms.

Doggone it - the concept is even older. Constantine turned the whole Roman Empire upside down because of his religious beliefs.

Uh - OK. Its hitting me right now that Jesus gave this thing called the Sermon on the Mount, and we could even kick it Old Testament and talk about the prophet Amos or the original covenant with the Israelites. ALL about politics and the way to organize a society.

So there we have it. For all the current protestations about church and state, or keeping religious ethics out of our political discourse, I think we are stuck with the fact that ours is a faith that requires us to engage in political and social justice issues.

How should we feel about the death penalty?

What is the right tax structure?

Where should we build a school?

What should we do about our scarce resources?

And [dramatic music] what about health care?

These are all religious questions. Questions of faith. God-things.