A few years ago my wife and I went to the Moxie to see the film Religulous?, which features comedian and social commentator Bill Maher, best known as the host of HBO’s political show Real Time with Bill Maher.

As an influential public figure, Maher makes no bones about it: he views religion as one of the most — if not the most — destructive element in society today, and Religulous was one of his attempts to point out what he views as the absurdity of religious belief. The title comes from linking the two words religion and ridiculous, a combination that implies our world would be much better off with much less religion.

It’s not an uncommon argument. From viral YouTube videos to books such as The God Delusion or God is Not Great, religion has been castigated as the opiate of the masses and the crutch humanity would do well to get rid of. Religion = Ridiculous.

There are, of course, several valid points made by Maher and others. Religion hardly has its hands clean. It has been responsible for perpetuating great violence on others, from so-called holy wars to inquisitions to the subjugation of those who don’t conform or belong to the most powerful class or gender or race or orientation. What’s more — and we especially see this in the churches today — people all too often don’t take the time to critically analyze religious beliefs they are told they are supposed to hold. They believe whatever the pastor or church tells them to believe, even when such beliefs are potentially unhealthy or dangerous, not to mention in-credible, all of which further perpetuate religion’s dangerous inclinations toward violence.

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But if only it was so easy to rid ourselves of religion (I have tried!). If only it was so easy to debase the value of religion. If only it was so easy to forget religion, to write it off, to view it as an artifact of the past. If only it was so easy.

But it’s not so easy, it’s not so easy at all. Either for Bill Maher, or for myself, or for any of us for that matter. Because somewhere along the way, unless we are dead (figuratively or literally), somewhere along the way, our hearts – believers and atheists alike – beat for another world, a different world, a better world, to be born. Our hearts are restless.

For all of the problems with religion, for all of its checkered past, there is a reason that we still dream with Martin Luther King Jr., atheists and believers alike. There is a reason we still march in honor of Martin Luther King Jr., atheists and believers alike. For the dream of another world to come – a world in which justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream – the dream of another world to come transcends all of our categories of religious belief (or unbelief).

For there is a claim visited upon our lives for a better world to be born that will not leave us alone, atheist and believer alike.

There is a claim visited upon our lives that will not give us peace until there is peace, atheist and believer alike.

There is a stirring in our hearts that relentlessly pursues us, that hounds us, that makes our hearts restless, atheist and believer alike.

This is why Bill Maher’s film Religulous, for all of its criticisms of religion, is actually a deeply religious film: for it is hungry for another world to be born – a world that is more fair, more just, more right – and it asks us to join in its creation.

This is why John Lennon’s song “Imagine,” for all of its criticisms of religion, is actually a deeply religious song:
Imagine no possessions / I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger / A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people / Sharing all the world…
You may say I’m a dreamer / But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us / And the world will live as one

This is why we can even imagine a cultured despiser of religion like Karl Marx operating from, dare I say it, a religious heart. While Marx, as one scholar describes, “viewed himself a cold-hearted scientist who was dispassionately exposing the futility of religious illusion in the name of revolutionary historical progress,” can we not say that he still yet “had a bit of the wild-eyed Jewish prophet about him”? While working with what he and others viewed as cold economic laws, the “science” of political economy, all without God of course, could we not say that he was also doing all of this work because he longed for a better world to be born, even as he was debunking religion? As John Caputo writes, “Marx was praying and weeping for an age in which the rich stop feeding off the poor and making their fortunes on the bent backs of the most defenseless people in our society.” Is this not in line with what the Hebrew prophets who longed for justice for the poor did, what Martin Luther King did, what Desmond Tutu did?

This is why the distinction between believers and atheists is a little more unstable than most people think, and why language about the death of religion is ultimately misleading. To speak of the death of religion in any final sense, Caputo has said, would be to speak of the death of desire, the death of love, the death of affirmation, the death of what we hope for with a hope against hope and a desire beyond desire, of what we can’t express with our words yet what we long for with all our hearts. I have a dream, Dr. King said, and so do we…

When we relegate religion only to the affirmation or negation of certain (superstitious sounding) belief systems, not only do we trivialize the claim that has been visited upon our lives, but, perhaps more troubling, we neglect to honor the part of our lives that leaves us hoping and sighing and dreaming and weeping for our world to be different, for our lives to be different, for transformation to occur, for a new world to be born, for us to be born, again — atheist and believer alike. I have a dream, Dr. King said, and so do we…

Now it doesn’t matter if we refer to such longings or hopes as religious or not. The point is that as soon as we close off this part of ourselves then a very significant part of us dies. I have a dream, Dr. King said, and so do we…

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When Philip and the early disciples were confronted by Jesus all those years ago, a claim was visited upon their lives, and they knew that unless they wanted to spend the rest of their lives regretting it they had better drop everything and follow. When a claim is visited upon our lives for another world to be born, for a different world to be born, may we have the courage and the wisdom to respond as well, whether we consider ourselves religious or not, whether we believe in God or not, lest we spend the rest of our lives regretting it. May we have the courage to dream.

I say this for a variety of reasons, none of which are idealized or altruistic (this post is a confession of sorts in response to several conversations I’ve had with those who share similar experiences as my own). First of all, leaders in established communities whose churches are longing for transformation (here I am thinking especially but not exclusively of mainline pastors) are often charged with at least two multilayered tasks that can generally be summarized under the umbrella of (1) institutional maintenance and (2) church planting. When you add to this the way that mainline churches often commodify the clergy as the ones primarily responsible for cultivating change (in which clergy are paid to do the work on behalf of the congregation as part of their job), and the communal dynamic of the mutuality of leadership/priesthood of all believers is often missing in practice if not in theory, then even more weight is felt on the shoulders of a significant number of mainline pastors.

Those who lead largely graying congregations longing for transformation and/or revitalization are given two primary responsibilities (I should admit that by “transformation and revitalization” the congregation usually just means they want younger families to carry on the practices that few of the younger participants tend to care about — i.e. Sunday Schools, circle groups, committee meetings, etc. — but that is a topic for another day). On the one hand, leaders have to continue tending to all of the traditional pastoral practices for which they were hired by the institution, most of which are important: pastoral care to folks in a variety of difficult life situations (broken marriages or relationships, financial hardships, substance abuse, depression, difficulty finding a job, etc.), hospital and nursing home visits, administrative duties, advocating for causes the congregation cares about, preparing sermons on a weekly basis and preaching them, planning and leading worship, planning and attending social activities related to the church, tending to day-to-day busywork like newsletters and emails and Facebook messages and phone calls and bulletins, going to not only a variety of church committee meetings but also to community leadership meetings and so on, not to mention the many untold surprises that emerge on a daily basis. As any mainline pastor can attest, it is a full-time job.

But if that’s not enough, mainline leaders whose congregations long for transformation are also charged with tasks very similar to those implemented by church planters. Truth be told, about the only way an established congregation is going to experience significant transformation (or, to put it in more negative and even less altruistic terms, not die) is through the influx of several new participants. The situation is so dire in such a significant number of mainline congregations that attracting new people to a dying congregation requires tons of creativity and follow up (all in addition to the tasks of institutional maintenance), and as much as we theoretically wish it was otherwise the reality remains that most mainline pastors are often on an island unto themselves in order to make it happen, at least according to most of the stories I hear from mainline pastors in established contexts. So not only is it necessary to plan and coordinate fresh ways to offer hospitality to newcomers (perhaps through a new worship service or community arts project or whatever), but there is also all kinds of follow up that continually needs to be done: meeting with lots of people for coffee and lunch, holding theological conversations at a neutral site, maintaining and updating social media on a regular basis, recruiting and coordinating volunteers to help out with new projects, etc. etc. It too can be a full-time job. Hopefully over the course of time as more people connect and put down roots this becomes a shared endeavor, but in the meantime it is demanding and exhausting, and one worries that those who are suspect of institutions in general and churches in particular will ever feel comfortable putting down roots in them.

And if that’s still not enough, consider the difficulty that emerges if you actually are successful attracting newcomers to the congregation. Now there is the task of navigating the tension between new folk and established folk, and trying to help each recognize the validity of the other. The more established folk tend to not understand why the newer folk don’t want to assimilate to their existing structures and practices, while the newer folk don’t understand why the established folk value such structures and practices. Helping established folk recognize that transformation doesn’t just mean newer folk coming in and doing everything they’ve liked to do for years is no easy task, and persuading newer folk who are rightly suspect of institutions to put down roots in an institutional church is not any easier!

So I ask those of you who are attempting to lead transformative change and/or revitalization of established structures: How do you maintain your energy and creativity? Have you found others willing to share the load? Are the points I’m raising in mainline churches fairly prominent or not? I’d like to know.

*I write this not as one who wishes to demean established institutions and practices in favor of emergent sensibilities (as I’ve written elsewhere, I argue that established traditions and emergent Christians are in need of one another and at their best share in a mutually edifying relationship).

8. Razing Hell by Sharon Baker
7. Great Philosophers Who Failed at Love by Andrew Shaffer
6. Awkwardness by Adam Kotsko
5. The Bedwetter: Stories of Courage, Redemption, & Pee by Sarah Silverman
4. Preaching from Memory to Hope by Thomas Long
3. The Return of Anti-Religion: From Radical Atheism to Radical Theology by John Caputo (Technically this is a journal article, but it’s a gem. Plus, how could I put together a list of top books without a piece by JC? Here Caputo clarifies several key points regarding criticisms of his readings of Derrida that geeks like me interested in appropriating Derrida’s work within the context of the church would do well to heed.)
2. Plato or Paul?: The Origins of Western Homophobia by Ted Jennings
1. Insurrection by Peter Rollins

To win the following books (just in time for Christmas!!), all you have to do is (1) change your FB profile pic to the cover image of The Hyphenateds; (2) let me know you’ve changed it by posting to my wall; (3) keep it your profile pic for at least three days; and then (4) your name will be entered into the grand prize sweepstakes! On Friday I’ll announce the winner, who will receive not only a copy of The Hyphenateds, but also The Great Emergence by Phyllis A. Tickle, Insurrection by Peter Rollins, Emerging Ministry Today by Nate Frambach, Banned Questions About Jesus by Christian Piatt, and Toward a Hopeful Future by Emily Bowen and me. Good luck!

You can buy the book on Amazon or at Chalice Press.

From Brian McLaren:
“I’m normally an upbeat person, but I get a little depressed when I see religious communities retrenching, reacting, defending, and engaging in more boundary-maintenance than bridge-building. That’s why I find this volume so helpful and hopeful. It’s about faith communities exploring, creating, admitting faults, and bridging divides on all sides. You’ll meet Christian leaders who are obviously bright, passionately committed, and downright fascinating, people I’m so glad to know as companions in this wild journey of emergence.”

From Martha Grace-Reese:
“The Hyphenateds will give you a clear sense of a new generation of leaders’ hope-filled vision for the church.”

From Phyllis Tickle:
“Here a baker’s dozen of the most influential Hyphenateds in this country talk boldly and unapologetically about what they are doing, how they are doing it, and why they are doing it. Whether one is an emergence Christian or a mainline Christian or a traditional
Christian or even a disaffected Christian, one has the opportunity here to look at the future through the lens of an evolving present. What’s written here is intimately told, without apology, and with no holds barred.”

From Doug Pagitt:
“[Hyphenateds] recognize that they are in a new relationship, but they also know where they come from. They want to be fully in the emerging family, but as a product of another family… The ecclesial hyphenateds are doing what they can to live in a complex blended family.”

“On the Virtue of Burying One’s Talent”
Matthew 25:14-30

There was once a rich plantation owner living in the deep south, who was about to go on a journey. He had three slaves and he entrusted all of his assets to them.

Now this plantation owner had accumulated so much money by participating in the master-slave system that he was able to give the first slave the equivalent of what would be 80 years worth of pay for an average free man.

Then he gave the second slave 32 years worth of pay for an average free man. Then he gave the third slave 16 years worth of pay for an average free man. Each were given according to their ability.

And then the plantation owner went away.

The slave who had received 80 years worth of pay immediately went to the market and traded with the other plantation owners, and he doubled his master’s money. In the same way, the slave who had received 32 years pay also doubled his master’s money. But the slave who received 16 years worth of pay went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money.

After a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them.

The one who had received 80 years worth of pay came forward, bringing 80 more years worth of pay with him, saying, “Master, you handed me 80 years of pay; look, I have doubled your money.”

His master said to him, “Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things on my plantation, I will put you in charge of many things on my plantation; enter into the life that I am privileged to lead; enter into the joy of your master.”

Then the one with 32 years worth of pay came forward, bringing 32 more years worth of pay with him, saying, “Master, you handed me 32 years of pay, look, I have doubled your money.”

His master said to him, “Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things on my plantation, I will put you in charge of many things on my plantation; enter into the life that I am privileged to lead; enter into the joy of your master.”

But then the slave who had received only 16 years pay came forward, bringing no more with him, saying, “Master, I know what you are. I know that you are a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, gathering where you did not scatter seed, gaining profits even though you have not worked for them, even though you’ve done nothing to deserve them. So I went and hid your money in the ground, refusing to make you another dime. Here—you take what is yours.”

His master replied, “You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I do not sow, and gather where I do not scatter? You ought to have at least invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would receive what was my own with interest. Take this money from him, give it to the one with 160 years worth of pay. And let me be clear about the way this system works: For to all those who already have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. As for this worthless slave, take him out back, teach him a thing or two, throw him into the outer darkness, let there be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

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When we read parables like this we almost instinctively equate the Master to God—and thus the one who does what is right—and we equate the wicked slave as disobedient to God—and thus the one who does what is wrong.

In the process we fail to recognize that the wicked slave can actually be read as the hero of the story—as the one who protests systems that take advantage of the vulnerable and, furthermore, refuses to play a role in them, even though it costs him dearly.

Ultimately in the stories that the book of Matthew tells us about Jesus, Jesus takes on the role of protestor as well—always calling attention to systems at work in society that exploit the weak and take advantage of the vulnerable. Like the wicked servant, he refuses to play a role in such systems, providing an alternative vision that costs him dearly. For in the crucifixion, Jesus is quite literally thrown out into the darkness, where there is much weeping and gnashing of teeth…

Yet his call for a different way of being still echoes down through the ages — it is why we are here today — and as we remember his life and his death, we recall the alternative vision for life that he offers us, the dream of God for a world where no system in any place or any time takes advantage of the weak and the vulnerable.

Whether it be the ancient master-slave system or the 19th century master-slave system or the feudal system in-between, the dream of God calls for another world to be born.

When people are exploited by a system that takes advantage of everyday people and robs them of the chance for life, the dream of God calls for another world to be born. It doesn’t matter if the system is communism or capitalism or free-market fundamentalism or socialism, anytime a system hurts the most vulnerable in society, the dream of God calls for another world to be born.

Like Jesus before us, we are called to refuse to play into systems that hurt and exploit the many for the sake of the few, the 99% for the sake of the 1%. Sometimes wisdom consists in refusing to play by the principalities and powers that govern our world, for our hearts stir restlessly for another world to be born, a world where justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream, for which we won’t rest until it is birthed. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” There might be a cost involved to be sure; but in so doing we might finally learn what it means to truly live.

If mainline theological education is broken, it’s not for lack of interest from prospective students.

In the book The Hyphenateds, which will be released next week, Nadia Bolz-Weber notes that in the seven-year history of Church of the Apostles (an emerging church in Seattle that is deeply rooted in both the Episcopal Church and the ELCA), nearly thirty participants have enrolled in seminary. Thirty participants in seven years.

Nadia is an ELCA pastor at House for All in Denver, Colorado, where in just seventeen months of weekly worship they have sent three young adults to seminary.

In the congregation where I pastor (Brentwood Christian Church in Springfield, MO, a Disciples of Christ congregation), we have sent seven participants to seminary since we started The Awakening in 2005, a worship gathering that combines progressive theology with alternative expressions of liturgical worship. (The number of participants that went to seminary in the previous 45 years of Brentwood’s history? One).

The ratio of participants from emerging mainline communities who enroll in seminary is nothing less than astonishing, even as the number of established churches that are available to support traditional full-time ministers rapidly decrease.

What is it, I wonder, that draws so many participants from hyphenated congregations to ministry? What does this mean for the church as a whole? How do established mainline structures cultivate in-depth theological education and training in ways that constructively address the needs of hyphenateds who are likely to lead innovative ministries on the fringes of church life that will (ironically) result in even more seminary students drawn to ministry on the fringes? How do seminaries respond to the questions raised in Gus Kroll’s thought provoking post “Does it make sense to go to seminary?”

By drawing on examples from United Methodist practices, Elaine Heath, professor of evangelism at Perkins School of Theology, writes the following in her contribution to The Hyphenateds:

One of the biggest obstacles at this time for United Methodists who participate in what the Holy Spirit is doing through emergence is an ordination system that no longer fits our missional context. That is, every person who is planning to be ordained as an elder and receive full membership in an annual conference (the level of ordination necessary to have full voting privileges and to enable one to rise to significant levels of leadership, including bishop) must also plan to receive his or her full-time income and benefits from the local church. People aspiring to be elders cannot plan to be bivocational, working as a pastor of small, possibly impoverished faith communities while earning a living doing something else. The only exception to this is for people like me who are already ordained as elders who, at some point after having served in local churches, are appointed beyond the local church to an extension ministry such as teaching at a seminary. Cases where persons are ordained as elders and immediately sent to extension ministries are extremely rare.

There is one more piece to this troubling puzzle. We also have qualified, gifted, called, fruitful candidates whose elder ordination is delayed because there is nowhere to send them for the required, guaranteed, full-time appointment, because so many United Methodist churches are shrinking and closing. These candidates are rarely told that the reason for their deferment is that there is no room at the inn, but it seems clear that this is what is going on. Sadly, this is one of the big reasons that young candidates leave the denomination and go elsewhere, and that some young seminarians decide not to pursue ordination in the first place. The great frustration at this time is that the more innovative and socially entrepreneurial the candidate is, the more suited to generativity, the more at home working in the margins of society, the more interested in bivocational ministry, the less likely it is that she or he will ever make it through to ordination. Without ever having planned for this outcome, then, our ordination system and our guaranteed appointment system work hand in hand to actually prohibit some of our most gifted young adults from answering their call to missional, monastic, and generative ministry within the United Methodist Church. Small wonder that we are having a hard time attracting young adults to ordained ministry in the UMC these days, and keeping the ones who are focused on emerging, missional work!

So it is that across the nation our bishops, chairs of boards of ordained ministry, seminary deans, and clergy are wrestling with how to change the systems in order to accommodate necessary movement without compromising the sanctity of ordination to word, sacrament, and order. Meanwhile, under the radar, out on the margins, and right under our collective noses increasing numbers of Methodists are answering God’s call to create new faith communities that use nontraditional leadership structures, in order to go and make disciples. Most of them don’t care if they ever get ordained. What they do care about is living the gospel in the manner of the early Methodists: faithfully, holistically, as good news in a broken world.

How might mainline communities and structures respond to these concerns? This is just one of many subjects explored in The Hyphenateds, and I look forward to the conversations and possibilities that emerge as we reflect on the future of the church together.

Phyllis Tickle – Foreword

Phil Snider – Introduction

Nadia Bolz-Weber – Innovating with Integrity: Exploring the Core and Innovative Edges of Postmodern Ministry

Stephanie Spellers – Monocultural Church in a Hybrid World

Elaine Heath – A New Day Rising in the Church

Nate Frambach – Why Luthermergent? Because We Always Have Been and Better Be Now and Forevermore, or We Probably Aren’t Really Lutheran

Chris Rodkey – Satanism in the Suburbs: Ordination as Insubordination

Carol Howard Merritt – Net-A-Narratives: The Evolution of the Story in Our Culture, Philosophy, and Faith

Nanette Sawyer – The Imperative of Imagination

Matt Gallion – The Postmodern Pan and the ForeverNeverland

Ross Lockhart – Peekaboo Jesus: Looking for an Emergent Savior in a Post-Christendom Culture

Brandon Gilvin – Mobius Operandi: Ambiguity and the Challenge of Radical Discipleship

Emily Bowen – Emerging from the Lectionary

Timothy Snyder – Improvising with Tradition: A Case (Self) Study

Mike Baughman – Emerging from the Jersey Shore: Secular, Generational, and Theological Frontiers

Doug Pagitt – Afterword: All in the Family