Friday, April 27, 2012

Discerning the Body

For those who eat and drink without discerning the body of Christ eat and drink judgment on themselves. That is why many among you are weak and sick, and a number of you have fallen asleep. 
1 Corinthians 11:29-30

A few weeks ago, as I spoke with a friend about gathering for General Conference in Tampa, this text came to mind. The theme of vitality for the church in the United States has been set before us as we gather in Tampa for the General Conference. Church vitality, congregational vitality, parameters for vitality, etc.

I believe this text has something important to contribute to our understanding of vitality. Like us, Christians in Corinth gathered and went through the motions (pun intended) of being church. Yet, there was something in their gatherings that was making them weak and sick. They were not "discerning the body."

Many sources have been identified for the lack of vitality of United Methodists in the United States. Many, if not most of the petitions in the Advanced Daily Christian Advocate (the publication that holds the legislation proposals before General Conference) are offered with that intention in heart—addressing the sources of our lack of vitality.

Some of the culprits named are familiar…
The General Agencies and Commissions, the Council of Bishops, the "security of appointment" system, re-tooling our leaders for the 21st century, doctrinal matters, matters of "order," and the list goes on…

Without taking away from the relevance of these matters, Paul's indictment of the church in Corinth calls us to look deeper and consider the possibility that our weakness, sickness and death  may come from a failure to discern the body of Christ. Moreover, that our gatherings (including General Conference) may do more harm than good if they fail in this foundational task of discerning the Body.

Social divisions were at the core of the problem for the Corinthians. Wealthy Christians, presumably including the owner of the house church and her/his friends, would gather before the others arrived. They would have their fill of the banquet (Holy Communion at that time was still a full meal, can we get back to that?) and leave the crumbs for the ones who came later, most likely the laborers and the poor, the people in the margins.

By not understanding that the whole point of the gathering was to "be" the Body of Christ, and by making their worship celebration into a product to be consumed instead of the boundary-crossing transformational and often uncomfortable experience, some members of the church in Corinth had created a "virtual reality" where they could enjoy the blessings of the gospel without being transformed by its vision and power. Literally, they were having their cake and eating it at the same time.
And this make them weak and sick.

Sounds familiar?

Consider that…

When United Methodists in the United States gather for worship it is more often than not to have a "pleasant, nourishing spiritual experience", one that perhaps moves us, but certainly not disrupts us.

11 a.m. on Sundays continue to be the most segregated hour in the United States. The term"Anglo Church (or congregation)" reveals our sin when we think how we would not dare to use its parallels—anglo-theater, anglo-school, anglo-bathroom, anglo-water-fountain, anglo-department store.

For some time now, The United Methodist Church in the United States has spoken the language of diversity and inclusion. Great efforts have been made to diversify our episcopal leadership, board membership and other arenas. Yet, despite our sincere efforts, the portion of Euro-American members of The United Methodist Church living in the United States of America (2010 figures) is 90.23%,  in a country where only 72.4% (2010 census) are Euro-American.

Even more troublesome, is the fact that most of our already puny "diversity" is lived out in a balkanized manner help in place by congregational ghettos. Like the Spanish saying goes:  juntos-pero-no-revueltos (together, but unmixed)

A lot of what we call "diversity" is really juxtaposition. My own Annual (Regional) Conference of New York, for example, prides itself in being a "diverse" body because it is made of congregations of many racial-ethnic groupings (Anglo/euro-american, African American, Latino, Korean, Haitian, Ghanian, Chinese and many more). The truth is that we do not have many truly "diverse" congregations where people from diverse backgrounds, cultures, languages and understandings truly interact with one another, beyond worshiping in the same building (at different hours, "a la Corinth"), having a couple of joint services throughout the year and enjoying an occasional potluck.

I often think how it must pain our Creator that her children refuse to come to diner together. God's mercy is such that multiple meals are prepared for the children, but I cannot but imagine that they are prepared with tearful hopes for the day when a single rich, amazing kin-dom meal will be prepared and shared.

Another version of we call "diversity" is really tokenism. Congregations label themselves "multicultural" because they have a spattering of members from different ethnic backgrounds. These few members are usually from similar socio-economic and educational status as the majority of the congregation. Even more troubling, the particular gifts of these few members are often ignored or treated as "curiosities." Their songs, their food, their language, their ways of being are de facto considered "exotic," "special," and often engaged to prop the self-righteousness of the majority who can then claim to be "multicultural" or "inclusive."

I know this topic is not simple, particularly as it relates to ethnic-minority congregations and the role they play in providing places of empowerment in an often hostile environment. It seems to me, however, that we must not allow a blessed solution to keep us from confronting the problem at its source. To use a historical example from my own Methodist heritage, I affirm and celebrate the initiative and witness of Richard Allen and Absalom Jones in creating what eventually became the African Methodist Episcopal Church, but this affirmation and celebration cannot keep me from seeing the sin of  St. George's Methodist Episcopal Church in excluding, marginalizing and segregating their black members.

Our sin of exclusion, marginalization and segregation has dire consequences.

When we worship as a community, a special bond is created as we experience together that which words cannot describe. Praying together engages the totality of the human being as it connects all elements of the human experience. I worship, as in no other place, we experience our common humanity.

What would happen if the Wall Street suit worshipped next to the apron worn by the domestic worker who ironed its shirt.

What would happen if the plaid shirt worshiped right next to the hoodie?

What would happen if the Manolo Blahnik's worshiped next to the pierced noses?

What would happen if the white picket fence worshiped right next to same-sex couple, the

How would we treat each other outside of worship? What impact would this have in dismantling the mutual suspicion and distrust that is the source of so much pain and tragedy?

What would happen if we understood worship to be about crossing boundaries in order to be the Body of Christ.

When we gather do we discern the body? Are we painfully aware of who is missing at the table and deeply committed to bringing the margins in and serve them first?



We love to quote Isaiah's vision of peace: "The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them." But we are incapable of worshiping together with the same people we go to school with, sit next to in the movies and move in the same roads. 

Well, there is much more to say, but the creation process for this entry has taken too long…

more to come (I pray).


Meanwhile, let us discern the Body.



Sunday, April 22, 2012

Blessed By Our Scars Even As We Are Wounded


Sunday morning in Tampa. 
Hyde Park United Methodist Church, the closest UMC to the site of General Conference. 
11 a.m. service, many Bishops (including our own Bishop Park) and Central Conference delegates present. 
Rev. Dr. James A. Harnish, Senior Pastor preaching on the gospel lectionary lesson (Luke 24:36-48), focusing particularly on verse 40: 

"And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet." 

The risen Christ is the wounded Christ. The power that rose Jesus from the death could have erased the scars,but it didn't. The scars are powerful reminders of the journey, and, in their own right, testify to resurrection and redemption and resurrection.

My heart continues to be moved as this sermon reverberates in the echo chambers of my experience as a delegate of the New York Annual Conference to the General Conference of The United Methodist Church in 2012.  

To think that the first word the Spirit would have for me in Tampa was about wounds and scars…

Being an openly gay delegate in General Conference is not easy. Whereas for most people General Conference is a place of difficult disagreements , for GLBTQ persons it is a place where our very right to exist as God created us is constantly challenged. It may surprise to some who know me as a worship leader and very "public" person to hear that I am a very private individual. Spending two weeks in a place where my very nature is one of the main sources of controversy and where conversations about the compatibility or incompatibility of my very being with Christian teaching* are the order of the day,  is not a choice that I would naturally take. In fact, it is one I would rather avoid. 

Yet, the voice of the Spirit was clear this morning. Just like Christ, I am called to show the scars on my hands and feet, to let my own healed wounds be a witness to resurrection and hope. Yet, a question rises…how can I do this even as I am being wounded? 

That's when the choir started singing the words of the prophet Isaiah: "Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted.  But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed." That's when I got that Christ is both scarred and wounded, fully risen and still suffering like the pierced lamb of Revelation 5.

Now, I must pause and say that while I speak of myself and my experience as an openly gay delegate to the General Conference, the call to show our scars even as we are wounded belongs to all of us. It is a part of our human existence and integral to our Christian walk. The scars of Native Americans will be exposed at this General Conference, even as we continue to wound them by action and neglect. The scars of women will also be in display, even as we talk about how to end discrimination in our actions and language. Very dear to my heart, the scars of the people of Palestine will be displayed at General Conference, even as we wound them with our hesitation and fear.

I must also clearly state that my belief in letting scars bless even as new wounds are inflicted does not in any way justify, support or make excuses for the wounding, nor does it decrease my witness against it. 

It does call me in a strange way into peace and trust.
 It calls me into memory of the ways God has acted in the past "making a way where there was no way," and creating rivers in the desert. 
It calls me into a "risen" witness, worlds away from victimization and blame. 
It calls me into being at General Conference in persona Christi**, the call and duty of all who dare to bear the name of the slained Lamb that death could not hold.

Pray for me.

Jorge Lockward


*I have purposely exchanged "being" for "practice."  In my experience homosexuality, just like being latino, are things that belong to the core of my being. I refuse to have them reduced to "practices."  I also extend this courtesy to heterosexuals  try to not to ever speak of the "practice of heterosexuality."

**The Roman Catholic church limits the use of this term to male clergy, particularly around their sacramental functions. Given that the Church is The Body of Christ, I take that "being the body of Christ" to be the call of all believers to be fulfilled in community.