ACROSS THE LINES - Archive (2006-2020)

Symbol [ sim -b uh  l]  noun:  something used for or regarded as representing something else; a materialobject representing something, often something immaterial; emblem, token, or sign. ************** Patriot [ pey -tree- uh  t, -ot]  noun:   a person who loves, supports, and defends his or her country and its interests with devotion. Yesterday, President Trump asserted that NFL players who refuse to stand for the national anthem display "a total disrespect of everything that we stand for." But the national anthem is not "everything we stand for." Like the American flag, it is a symbol of everything we stand for, namely the ideals that were enshrined in the founding of our nation - "certain unalienable Rights," as stated in the Declaration of Independence, among which are "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." When some among us are denied their rights, and the symbols of our nation are used by others among us

As suggested by the "man of signs," which appeared in early American almanacs straight through to the end of the eighteenth century, p eople living before the triumph of modern science believed that everything was somehow, mysteriously, connected.   Individual bodies, churches ("the body of Christ"), communities and nations ("bodies politic") and heavenly bodies - our ancestors saw these many bodies as nested one inside the other, like Russian dolls. Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard's Almanac, 1733 The man of signs came to my mind as I watched friends from across the United States react to the total eclipse of the sun this past Monday.  People within the "band of totality" described the experience in visceral, bodily terms.  Hearts beat faster, palms grew clammy. Inexplicably, and uncontrollably, people laughed and cried and shouted. Of course we understand a lot more than our ancestors did about how each of these different bodi

Widespread conservative indifference to Donald Trump's personal failings raises fundamental questions. If a President pursues policies we like, and advances our party's agenda, why should we care if he (or she) is of questionable personal character? When it comes to Presidents, does personal morality matter?  And if it does, how? Immersed, as I have been, in the study of early American history, I thought I’d seek answers to these questions by turning to the men who led the American revolution and framed the U.S. Constitution. Like many people in the late eighteenth century, the founders of the United States conceived of human societies as composed of many bodies – individual bodies, ecclesial bodies (“the body of Christ”), political bodies, and so on. The struggle to establish, maintain and restore right order in these many bodies dominated every dimension of life in the early American republic - from the practice of medicine, to disputes over church doctrine and polity,

O God: We, your people, who count ourselves white and American and Christian, come to you with heavy hearts. The evil of white racism - a constant in our history as a nation - has made itself transparent in our land once more.  Lord, have mercy on us. O God, our help in ages past: we confess our sin to you this day.  We know that you are God of all peoples and all times and all places, but we are a prideful and stubborn people, prone to claim you as our own.  Cause us to recognize and reject the sins of our ancestors in demonizing, dehumanizing and denigrating people of other races, religions, and ethnicity.  O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come:  We recognize our need of you.  Un-blind us  to the ways you are working in the lives and histories of our neighbors.   Help us to incarnate the great truth that you made manifest in the birth and life and death and resurrection of Jesus: that all people are loved by you.  H elp us to teach our children well, that t

August 4, 2007 photo:  Maria Teresa Fernandez Ten years ago today, on August 4, 2007, I first served communion through the border fence at Friendship Park, the historic meeting place on the US-México border. It was a time when politicians from other parts of the country were waiving laws to build walls along the border, seeking short-term political advantage by appealing to the least noble parts of the American character. It was a time much like these. ( español a continuación) I did it because federal officials were threatening to eliminate public access to the US side of the park, despite that friends and families had gathered there peaceably for generations. Items passed through the fence, including the bread of our communion, we were told, were "contraband," violations of US customs law. Ten years later, this simple act has been transformed by the grace and power of God into a self-sustaining, bi-national community of faith that goes by the simple name of The Bo

I closed my last post   by asking:   at what point should our moral qualms about a politician's character outweigh our other reasons for lending them our support?    Given the current environment, it's very hard to entertain this question as a matter of principle, without getting dragged down in partisan politics.  To assist us in this endeavor, let's imagine, for just a moment,  that Donald Trump is President ... and a Democrat.  Imagine that Donald Trump, the Democrat, defeated an unpopular Republican in the 2016 presidential election - for convenience, let's say Newt Gingrich.   Imagine that President Trump (D) has a Congress controlled by Democrats, and is attempting to pursue an almost entirely blue political platform. Imagine he is nominating liberals to the Supreme Court, pursuing single-payer healthcare legislation, advocating for comprehensive immigration reform, and so on.  Imagine, in short, that his Presidency seems  to hold at least some slight promis

In  my last post , I shared my struggle with the question of whether, as a pastor, I should post about politics in the age of Donald Trump.  Many of the responses included comments like this: "How can people who call themselves Christian support that man?"  I have decided to take this question literally, and, as a spiritual exercise, I will try to answer it.  In reading these answers, I suspect some of my liberal friends may find their blood boiling.  But I am not trying to articulate these arguments because I agree with them.  Neither am I denying that less noble reasons also drive many people - including many Christians - to support Trump.  Those I will address on another occasion. In this post, I am simply  trying to articulate some of the reasons that good, Christian people I know and love support Donald Trump . Perhaps you know someone  perfectly decent and honorable like this, too - a cousin, a grandfather, an old friend from childhood..  Maybe you will want t

For the past many weeks, I have posted things "privately" to my Facebook account, so that only I can see them. On occasion, I have placed security settings on other posts so that only my wife,  Jennifer , can see what I'm thinking. This helped me feel like I was getting things off my chest, without stirring up unnecessary controversy among my friends. I have been conflicted because a number of people I love and respect feel I would do better to refrain from posting anythin g "political," given that I have returned to the position of pastor at a church that people of many different political persuasions call home. Other people I love and respect - including many from that same church - have thanked me for speaking out, and have encouraged me to continue.* As I browse my private posts of these last few weeks, I see a pattern: I have refrained from commenting about matters of policy and political opinion, and have instead commented on those occasions where I

"So Jesus called them together and began to speak to them in parables: “How can Satan drive out Satan? If a kingdom is divided against itself, it cannot stand. If a house is divided against itself, it cannot stand." - Mark 3: 23 - 25 Since I was ordained as a United Methodist pastor twenty-five years ago, the culture here in Southern California has been fundamentally transformed. While it has not been eradicated, the ancient stigma attached to homosexuality has been dramatically eroded. Discrimination against people whose gender identity is not rigidly male or female is trailing behind, but is headed in the same direction. As a consequence, people who identify as LGBTQI have experienced a growing range of freedom to live openly and honestly in more and more dimensions of their lives. This growing sense of freedom is on display in almost every United Methodist congregation in Southern California. In the churches I know and love, gay and lesbian people have served op

Across seven years in the early 2000s, I served on the staff of Strength for the Journey San Diego , a one-week camping retreat for people living with HIV/AIDS. Launched in the 1980s by Burt All, a United Methodist pastor who was himself living with AIDS, the camp evolved across its many decades -- from a camp about how to die from a disease that didn't have a name, to a camp about how to live with AIDS, to a camp about how to live while managing what is now, for most, a chronic disease called HIV. I t is a remarkable chapter in the life of the United Methodist Church, and one in which I am proud to have participated. For the better part of a quarter century, my church was ahead of the curve. Sadly, my church is now officially "behind the curve." Our Book of Discipline still contains language that would prevent the church from ordaining as pastors people who live honestly and openly as lesbian-gay-bisexual-trans gendered persons. It also contains language that would

O God, we, who are Christians and call the United States home, confess that ours is a deeply divided nation. We witnessed the peaceful transition of political power this weekend, but many of us are deeply concerned for the future of our democratic institutions. We inaugurated a new President, yet many of us are deeply mistrustful of him. Many of us protested, and as we did many others of us took offense. We gathered and marched this weekend, O God, but we did not gather and march together. Hear our prayer. Help us, O God, to heal the wounds and divisions that run through our nation, our neighborhoods, places of worship, and families. Stir up in us a new depth of care and concern for friends and loved ones who marched when we were resting, who rejoiced when we were downcast, who are lining up even now on different sides of the causes we care deeply about. Help us stick with relationships marked by strong differences of opinion, so long as these relationships do not cause us harm.

On January 21, the day after Donald Trump’s inauguration as President, I will march in the   Women's March   here in San Diego. I want to explain why.   Like many pastors,  I  feel conflicted because the people I serve are profoundly divided when it comes to politics.  At the (mostly white) congregation where I serve on staff, some people are pleased with the outcome of November's election, others are apprehensive, still others are genuinely upset.   Meanwhile, at   El Faro: the Border Church , the unique community I convene on the US-Mexico border, almost everyone finds Mr. Trump’s election deeply distressing, especially that he won while  vilifying Mexican immigrants  and threatening to implement policies that would  disrupt millions of families .  Finding myself pulled in many directions,  I am trying to respond with integrity to the division that characterizes both our public landscape and my own pastoral predicament.     I  am not seeking to sow further division; ra