There appears to be some confusion among the Religious Right about what’s best for America.  At least, there is disagreement as to which Republican candidate for President is the best choice. 

First of all, only a Republican will do for them, so that narrows the possibilities.  Secondly, the candidate has to embrace their “values.”  Thirdly, they can’t find one.  

Or is it that they don’t really have an identified and agreed-upon set of “values” that are paramount and inherently “Christian.”  Maybe they just want to win the election and are seeking someone they think will do that.

Sen. John McCain (R-AZ) has received the endorsement of former rival, Sen. Sam Brownback (R-KS), who apparently is well-regarded among conservative Christians.  Former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney is touted by Paul Weyrich, the co-founder of the defunct Moral Majority.   Family values pro Gary Bauer is supporting Fred Thompson, who claims he is “right with God,” although he doesn’t attend church and refuses to discuss his “beliefs.”   Gov. Mike Huckabee (R-AR) has convinced Rick Scarborough of the Southern Baptists that he’s the man for the work.

Thrice-married, pro-choice, advocate of gay rights, pro-gun control Rudy Giuliani, picked up the vote of Pat Robertson. 

No, really, he did.

According to an article in the Washington Post, Republican pollster Tony Fabrizio discovered that half of Republicans are turned off by a Robertson endorsement of a candidate, and that prior Giuliani supporters “view the endorsement negatively” by a margin of 3 to 1. 

It seems that Robertson is throwing his dwindling weight behind Giuliani based on anti-Islam sentiments.  Hating Muslims, at least those who exhibit “bloodlust,” has bubbled to the top of Robertson’s policy priorities.  

The same article states, “Richard Land, a senior official of the Southern Baptist Convention, said Robertson’s endorsement probably reflects a belief by the TV evangelist that Giuliani is the candidate most likely to beat the Democratic nominee.”  Land added, “I’m not going to vote for Rudy under any circumstances.”

There is disarray among those who think we live in a “Christian nation.”

In the October 30 issue of Christian Century there is an article about the use of children as combat soldiers by a number of countries, eight of which receive money from the United States.  If you pay taxes, you are supporting this crime.   The eight countries listed in the article are Burundi, Chad, Colombia, Cote d’Ivoire, Democratic Republic of Congo, Sri Lanka, Sudan and Uganda.

An estimated 300,000 children currently are soldiers, some no older than eight years of age.  The figures include both boys and girls, many of whom suffer sexual abuse on top of everything else.  The article indicates that often the children are drugged as they are sent to kill, and that sometimes they are used as human mine detectors or sex slaves.  The children also engage in killing other children.  The physical, psychological and spiritual effects are obscenely devastating.

When I was reminded of all of this by the article, I couldn’t decide what to say about it.  Several thoughts flashed through my mind:  the idiocy of war and of those who promote it; the common reality of sending the most “expendable” members of our society to “take out the trash,” as William Sloane Coffin once described it; and, the origins of Mother’s Day as a protest against war and its destructive impact on children and youth.

Most of all, I think, war is an offense against God.  The creation God deemed as “good” comes under assault in times of war, with no regard for the environment or wildlife.  And those created in the image of God are demonized and destroyed in horrific fashion, with more “advanced” and torturous means being developed all the time.

What would it be like if we took seriously God’s sovereignty over matters of life and death?  How would life in this world be different if the resources currently devoted to war, war “education,” war preparation, war equipment, and everything else on which we waste our brainpower, time, and money so we can destroy others and their land, were instead channeled toward sharing food and natural resources, promoting health, sustainability and economic/racial/environmental/gender justice?

Maybe when we run out of expendable people, and those who decide to send them off to fight their wars are the only ones left, things will change.

When I heard today about yet another manhunt in Florida for a man who shot and killed a police officer, this one a sheriff’s deputy who was transporting the criminal, it got my attention.  Twice within the past year or so, two other cases of officers shot and killed resulted in the suspect being hunted down and shot to death as officers swarmed into the area from all across the state.  Both of the suspects were African-Americans.  One of the two faced an especially brutal execution, as he was ripped to shreds by over 100 rounds fired by the police officers when they found him.  Instant justice.

Today’s situation had a different outcome.  He was Caucasian.  He already was serving two life sentences for armed robbery.  Today the sheriff’s deputy was driving him to court for trial on at least two other charges.  He also had a history of drug arrests, and was injured and endangered other people while eluding police when they previously tried to capture him following a robbery.

The man he killed today was 76 years old, and four hours later the suspect was captured carrying the dead officer’s weapon.  Apparently, no shots were fired when the arrest was made, and I read nothing in the account of officers high-tailing it to the area from other jurisdictions.

Does this mean the procedures have changed since the last time?  Or does it indicate a different standard of “justice?”

You figure it out.

I heard on the radio that Art Garfunkel recently celebrated his 66th birthday.  It made me think of two things:  in the song Old Friends, sung by Simon and Garfunkel there is a line about how strange it is to be 70; and, my wife, who was a student at the University of Virginia at the time when Garfunkel lived in that area, once encountered him in a shop there in Charlottesville.  She said, "Good afternoon, Mr. Garfunkel."  He just looked at her.

When I shared this story with someone, she relayed a story of her own.  A friend of hers happened into an ice cream shop in a town where Robert Redford was filming a movie.  The woman saw that Redford was there in the ice cream shop and became very flustered.  She ordered her cone, paid for it, received her change and left the store.  She returned very quickly, saying to the cashier, "I paid for my ice cream cone, and received my change, but I never got my ice cream."  Redford himself spoke up and said, "It's in your purse."

Indeed, she was so unnerved by the presence of a celebrity that she didn't realize what she was doing.

Probably my favorite story of someone interacting with a celebrity was told by someone I knew in high school.  He lived in Boston for a while, and once attended a Boston Celtics basketball game against the Milwaukee Bucks.  Prior to the game, he and some friends were outside the arena when the Bucks arrived.  The star of the Bucks at that time was Kareem Abdul-Jabaar.  This was when he still was known as Lew Alcindor.

 My friend said, "Hello, Lew."  And according to him, Alcindor replied, "Hello, you stupid jerk."

It's fun to encounter a famous face -- but you never know what will happen.  My advice is always be polite, respectful -- and not easily disappointed. 

On a recent Sunday morning, I welcomed some visitors to our church who arrived fairly early.  They sat together in a pew and quietly waited for the service to begin.  Several moments later, a long-time member of the church arrived and told them to move.  They were sitting in her pew.

She was early, as well, and no one was sitting anywhere near "her pew" in front, behind, or on either side of the center aisle.  But, the visitors were required to get up and find another place to sit.  They did so graciously, and when I apologized to them, they laughed it off.  This is not the first time something like this has happened.

In my sermon preparation last week, I found it interesting that there are numerous stories in Luke 18 about followers of Jesus trying to keep people away from him - much to his chagrin (probably a polite interpretation of the accounts!).  These stories lead into the familiar episode of Zacchaeus, in Luke 19, and it seemed to me that rather than talk about poor little us with all of our struggles and challenges, and how, if we just try hard enough, Jesus will notice us and help us, it was more important to wonder aloud whether the church has become adept at keeping people away from Jesus.

Luke tells us Zacchaeus climbed the tree in order to see Jesus, because of the crowds, and because "he was short of stature" (Zacchaeus?  Or Jesus?  It isn't clear!).  Whoever was short, the fact remains that the other people wouldn't let Zacchaeus through.  They blocked his access to Jesus.

Zacchaeus, as we know, was a tax collector -- persona non grata among the fine folks of the temple community.  He was a bad guy.  He was a traitor.  He wasn't their kind.  He didn't deserve to see Jesus.

It turned out, that even though the fine folks tried to keep Zacchaeus from seeing Jesus, Jesus wanted to see him. Jesus somehow knew that this was a person who was hurting, who needed love, and who was ripe for healing and restoration.

Who do we prevent from seeing Jesus today?  How do we block the path of those who could stand a blessing in their lives? And more to the point -- why do we do it?

It seems to me that this story raises these questions for people of faith today -- people called to make known the Good News of Jesus Christ, and to be a blessing to others.

When a building or room is dedicated to God as a “sacred space” where members of the community of faith will gather for worship, study, and the administration of sacraments, what are the limits of what is allowable or appropriate to occur there?  In other words, what can or cannot be done in sacred space?

Hateful words often are spoken in sacred spaces.  Sermons vilifying groups or individuals are not uncommon in some churches.  I once was included in a conversation, held in a church sanctuary, in which a denominational leader uttered the “N-word.”  Nasty glares, filled with daggers, get tossed around if a child makes a noise, someone says “Amen” during the sermon, or if a young person isn’t dressed according to standard.  Is there sacredness in these occurrences?

Once, at the chapel at the Disciples conference center at Bethany Beach, Delaware, I observed from a distance as a local production of The Wizard of Oz was underway.  Through the screen along the side of the building I could see “backstage,” where someone provided sound effects by pounding the communion table with a broomstick.  On another communion table in another sacred space, a not-so-young mother changed her baby’s diaper.  Sacred or not sacred?

It seems a lot of the vagaries of life take place in church buildings.

Some churches across the continent are opening their doors to a court-sponsored program whereby fugitives can show up for “Safe Surrender.”  According to reports, “The program does not offer amnesty, but gives people a chance to resolve cases amid promises from authorities of ‘favorable consideration.’”  Temporary “court rooms” are set up, participants are assigned defense lawyers, and judges hear the arguments.  For some of the defendants, this seems less of a threatening experience than actually showing up at a courthouse, and it helps to close out unresolved matters for both the courts and the accused.  Not that everyone is allowed to wiggle off the hook, however.

Is this an appropriate activity for a sacred space?  I think it is.  But for some, it’s also a reminder that more sacred work needs to occur in churches.  One person, an elder in a church where Safe Surrender was taking place, remarked that folks “in government and the church…have to continually find ways to connect with people before they make bad choices.” 

“We dropped the ball somewhere,” he said.  “I think we could have done more.”

My last two days were spent making a fast trip to Wabash, Indiana, to see my best friend from seminary who is experiencing escalating health difficulties.  Clark was a teenager when he developed diabetes, and the last decade or so has brought increasing ravages from the disease.

He has endured amputations, eye surgeries, congestive heart failure, strokes, heart attacks, arterial blockages and more.  A recent series of hospitalizations got me thinking it was time for a visit.  So, I went.

Wabash is where I spent a couple of years in student ministry while I was a student at Christian Theological Seminary in Indianapolis.  It was kind of strange to visit the town again after all these years.  I stopped by the church and was greeted warmly by the current pastor, Cecil Cook.  Also, I spoke on the telephone with another person who was a church member and friend, who now is a licensed lay minister.

Clark's oldest son, Brad, is his primary caregiver, and does a great job of looking after him. 

There was not, of course, anything I could do to help Clark, or to make his condition improve, but just being together, even for a brief time, was beneficial to both of us, I think.  We talked about his health, we shared memories, we laughed, we discussed the church, and even spent some time on Star Trek (Clark and Brad are big-time experts!).  I got to see first-hand what I had been hearing about and wondering about for quite some time.

There are certain people who come along in life with whom you somehow form special connections.  Often it occurs at pivotal moments in your life, and the friendships often go on, even when your paths diverge and changes take you away from one another. 

Special friendships are even more appreciated when there are reminders of the fleeting nature of life.

Forty-five or more years ago, according to legend, children’s television icon Soupy Sales encouraged his young viewers to go into their parents’ bedroom, find Daddy’s wallet, or Mommy’s purse, take out the green pieces of paper and mail them to him at the address given.  As the story goes, much to Soupy’s astonishment, he received some $40,000 from his devoted followers.  He sent the money back, and got thrown off of television for his antics.

Soupy always made me laugh, and I enjoy hearing stories about him such as this one and another which I won’t repeat here.

This all came to mind when I read about a priest in Virginia who is facing 40 years in prison, plus fines, for absconding with hundreds of thousands of dollars from two parishes he “served” for a number of years.  It seems they were serving him.

First of all, this Roman Catholic priest was married with children, but he lived 50 miles away from the parishes and managed to keep this reality hidden from the two congregations.  Then, he gave them an address to which they were instructed to mail their contributions.  The money ended up in his person account.  One would think someone in the churches would be a little suspicious, or at least hesitant to comply with these arrangements. 

But then, he was the pastor of these churches for only thirteen years!

Whenever I hear about or witness people blindly following a religious leader, even to the point of thoughtlessly complying with questionable practices and expectations, I truly am amazed.  The Jim Jones case was an extreme example, when he led his followers into a mass suicide ritual a generation ago.  There have been other cases, as well.

But sometimes people project onto their pastors images, hopes, desires, and more.  I’m not sure why.  Is it so they have someone to look up to?  Or is it so they can let themselves off the hook of high expectations and personal standards?

My suggestion is that people in faith communities remember we’re all in this together, and while a pastor may have specialized training, and even a calling, he or she is not superior to others.  He or she does not have secret knowledge.   He or she is not the object of the church’s focus.  He or she does not bear the burden of faithfulness or righteousness for the whole community. 

The journey -- and the responsibility -- is for everyone.

Several years ago, during an election campaign for the House of Representatives, the two candidates appeared together on a radio call-in program.  I’ll never forget the response one made to the other following a characterization of his views and experience:  “If you will stop lying about my record, I’ll stop telling the truth about yours.”  I’m not sure if that was an original retort or not, but I thought it was pretty clever.

That’s one of the distasteful aspects of political campaigns, though – candidates criticizing, ridiculing, and otherwise putting down their opponents, painting them as pathetic losers who couldn’t possibly handle the rigors of the office for which they are competing. 

While it can be amusing (think Lloyd Bentsen in his debate with Dan Quayle when both were running for Vice President – “You, sir, are no Jack Kennedy!”), it also reaches a point at which there is no reason for paying attention.  Distortions and caricatures render it all irrelevant.

The text for this Sunday, from Luke 18, features the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. Rather, as the Pharisee sees it, the Pharisee and the tax collector.   The Pharisee touts his own righteousness.  He fasts twice a week; he tithes; he’s righteous beyond the call of duty.  He’s a sure sight better than that lousy tax collector in the pew across the way!

The tax collector is a lout.  He works for the oppressor; he cheats people out of their money; he’s a traitor; and, he probably has bad breath, too!  But he prostrates himself before God and says, “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner!”

The Pharisee was proud of himself.  In fact, his “prayer” was full of himself.  The tax collector wouldn’t even look up as he pleaded for God’s grace.

Jesus said he “went home justified.”  The Pharisee left the synagogue, not thinking of God, or of God’s mercy, but rather left thinking of himself.

It seems he missed something along the way.

I get very uncomfortable when religious faith, generally “Christian,” gets mixed in with government processes or events.  It appears to me that requests for prayer at public civic ceremonies or legislative sessions are either something of a superstitious ritual or an attempt to co-opt the faith, reassuring those with political position and influence that God is a cooperative or even manageable entity.

In some ways, it seems as if such prayer really has no meaning, except to appease …someone.  I’m not sure whom.  By the time the prayer is parsed and neutered so as not to offend anyone, it doesn’t fully reflect the convictions of the person praying.  It’s almost an apology, really.  My question is, “What’s the point?”

I turned down a request to offer such a prayer at a building dedication sponsored by the city government, and I was especially glad I did so when I saw that, at the event, the prayer was combined with the Pledge of Allegiance.  Someone made sure all the bases were covered, I guess.

The City Council of Akron, Ohio recently dropped its long-standing practice of opening its business sessions with the Lord’s Prayer.  An advocacy group specializing in the separation of church and state threatened legal action.  Rather than defend their practice, and, in the process, define its meaning, the council rolled over.

The president of the council made a telling comment.  He said the tradition “most likely” was begun to assure the local citizens that outside guidance was sought by the city leaders.  Most likely.  He wasn’t sure why they recited the Lord’s Prayer at the beginning of their meetings.  It apparently really didn’t mean anything, and it certainly was not worth fighting for.

Doesn’t one of the Ten Commandments say something about taking the Lord’s name in vain?