An effort has been made to portray presidental candidate Sen. Barack Obama (D-IL) as a Muslim, and to plant the idea that, consequently, he is a terrorist.  No doubt there are people only too happy to pass along this bit of misinformation, whether because they believe it (because of his name and family heritage), or because they are opposed to his candidacy (for a number of reasons -- pick one).

Of course, it is decidedly untrue, but Obama's campaign now is accelerating the pace in disputing these claims as southern states begin holding primaries.  Through his public statements, endorsement letters, and on his official website, Obama is touting the fact that he is a long-standing member of the United Church of Christ, and that if he is elected president, he will be "guided by his Christian faith."  He has stated, "I believe in the power of prayer."

The intent of this response, while no doubt genuine, is to appease the masses and make Obama an acceptable, if not appealing, candidate.

There have been times, and still are places, in which serious trouble resulted from making these kinds of self-assertions.  Check the New Testament, especially The Acts of the Apostles.   Review news accounts from officially atheistic or otherwise non-Christian nations.

Christianity in North America continues its descent into being a non-factor in our culture, despite some who cling to the myth that we are a "Christian nation," but there is no persecution of adherents.  In fact, the whole matter, on the whole, has become pretty "ho-hum," even among many church members.

Seeing a candidate as a "Christian," likely translates into, "he or she is not a threat to the status quo."  Sometimes it seems we imagine we have domesticated God.

Why were the Romans so opposed to Christians back in the First Century?  Why do oppressive regimes tightly clamp down on believers?

Perhaps they understand better than we the faith's potential for "turning the world upside down," an action attributed to the early followers of Jesus.

I remember once reading a poem about Dr. King that made the same point as the article mentioned above.  One of the phrases of the poem was, “now that he is safely dead…”  The poem, like the article, discusses the reality that King has become somewhat sanitized over the years, as the national holiday celebration tends to put him on a “pedestal of perfection that does not acknowledge his complex views,” according to Melissa Harris-Lacewell of Princeton University.

King’s views on the Vietnam war put him at odds with many who otherwise supported his efforts to end segregation.  His analysis of economic justice was not universally embraced.  Non-violence was losing some of its appeal to African-Americans who looked for change to come about more quickly.  The article above quotes author and professor Harvard Sitkoff as saying that at the time of his death, Dr. King was considered by many as a “pariah.” 

All of which is not to say we should not honor King and his memory.    

Let’s just make sure that we don’t make him so palatable to popular thought and opinion that we lose what he really was all about.

Last week I heard a bit on NPR that I thought was clever and amusing.  They did a news report about Michael Bloomberg, Mayor of New York, and assigned a reporter to cover a couple of Bloomberg's public appearances to see if there were hints of a presidential campaign in the making.  The reporter devised a "bingo" card that had behaviors or traits of a candidate in each block.  As the reporter observed Bloomberg in action he checked off appropriate blocks to see if he could get a "Candidate Bingo."  You can see the Candidate Bingo card here.

I mentioned this routine in my sermon yesterday, and at one point wondered aloud what a bingo card for followers of Jesus might look like.  Of course, it would have "confesses that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and Savior."  But, what else might be listed? 

I suggested that the expectations we have of church members would be there:  regular worship attendance; passionate prayer; serious study; willing service; and, generous giving.

Further possibilities, it seems to me, would include "transformed by a relationship with God and by the practice of spiritual disciplines;" "points others to Christ through words and actions;" "embraces God's desires for reconciliation with Creation;" and "aims high by expecting and anticipating God's ability to make all things new, and by responding with ministry to others in the name of Jesus Christ."

What would you put on a Follower of Jesus Bingo Card?

If someone saw you in action, and kept track on the card, would they get a  Bingo? 

Juashaunna Kelly is a senior in high school and an accomplished distance runner on her school’s track and field team.  She also is a Muslim.  So, she has a modified uniform that she wears when she competes, with a hood concealing her hair, long sleeves, and full leg coverings.  Still, she excels in her sport. 

She recently was disqualified from an invitational meet in Montgomery County, Maryland because her track uniform did not meet stated specifications.  So, this young lady who balances her faith commitments with her youthful exuberance for physical activity was told she could not join the other runners in the meet. 

A couple of days later, she was allowed to wear her uniform in another meet, this one in the District of Columbia, and she surpassed her previous best times in three running events, winning two of them and finishing second in the other.   

Coaches from other schools see no advantage for Juashaunna when she wears her unique uniform, but I suppose rules are rules, aren’t they? It sure makes things easier when everyone has to be the same – at least for those who make the rules.   

After Juashaunna ran so well at the meet in which she was allowed to be herself and compete, she remarked, “All the talk put a little pressure on me to go out and perform.”   

Good for you Juashaunna!  You keep it up and show people that their attempts to impose limitations on you are not going to work.

Rev. Barbara Lundblad told the following story in a sermon:              

I have a friend who is a pastor in Jersey City. A few years ago she brought a parishioner into New York City for cancer treatment at Sloan Kettering Hospital. Rather than return home, she spent the waiting hours at my apartment on the third floor of the church where I was a pastor. I left for a morning meeting; my friend stayed into the afternoon. As she was walking downstairs to leave, a longtime member of the church was walking up. "Oh, hello," she said to my friend. "Were you here to clean Pastor's apartment?"

Rev. Lundblad continued:  Now, why did she ask that question? There were many other things she could have said. She didn't know my friend so she had no way of knowing that my friend is a gifted guitarist and songwriter. She graduated with honors from Girls' High in Philadelphia and later from the Lutheran seminary in that same city. She's a caring pastor and a passionate preacher. So why did our church member assume my friend had come to clean my apartment? You know, don't you? My friend is African-American. 

What do people think of you, and why do they make their assumptions?  If you indicate to others that you are a Christian, what do they think then?   

Many seem to feel contempt for people of faith in today’s culture.  The words and actions of some who wear their “Christianity” on their shirtsleeves have a deleterious effect on the opinion of observers, and the rest of us suffer for it. 

I think a different witness is called for in a world already ruptured by bitterness, division and alienation.

Today is the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr.  I vividly remember his activities and witness even though I still was pretty young when he was assassinated.   

Civil Rights was a popular subject during my tenure as Executive Director of William Penn House, a Quaker seminar center in Washington, D.C.  It was my privilege to accompany some groups on visits to Rep. John Lewis (D-GA) in his Capitol Hill office.   I read a lot about John Lewis over the years in numerous histories of the Civil Rights Movement, as he was a significant leader.  

Congressman Lewis' courage was unquestioned during those very tense days in our nation.  He was the leader of SNCC, the Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee, spoke at the 1963 March on Washington, made famous by Dr. King’s “I Have A Dream” speech, played a huge role in the Freedom Rides, and was front and center during the 1965 march from Selma to Montgomery that became known as “Bloody Sunday.”   

He suffered incredible, life-threatening violence that day and others, was arrested more times than I can count, and in my mind, is a true American hero.  Probably no one imagined that this “dangerous person” one day would become one of the most-respected members of the House of Representatives, referred to by some as the “conscience of Congress.” 

I frequently saw Congressman Lewis around Capitol Hill, our paths intersecting as we walked here and there performing our respective duties.  I’ll never forget the first time I saw him.  It was outside the Cannon House Office Building as we waited to cross the street in opposite directions.  Before the traffic light changed I spotted him across the way, in a cluster of other pedestrians.  We made eye contact during our turn in the crosswalk, and he greeted me as we passed one another.  I was thrilled.  Over the years, the same scenario played out again numerous times. 

A memorable visit to his office occurred when a dozen or so high-schoolers from across the U.S., attending the annual WPH-sponsored Quaker Youth Seminar, were treated to Lewis’ personal recollections from Bloody Sunday.  He displayed enlarged photos showing the Alabama state troopers on horses running through the peaceful marchers.  One picture showed Lewis himself being beaten senseless by a law enforcement officer.  Lewis, of course, carried no weapon and made no threats against the officer.  He was leading a march. 

Congressman Lewis betrayed no bitterness or anger at the memory.  Granted, it was nearly thirty years after the attack occurred, but he and others I met who experienced so much hatred directed against them during those nightmarish years didn’t have time for negativity.  Their purpose was not to divide, but to unite, and unity doesn’t happen through anger, hatred or bitterness. 

Other highlights for me in seminar programs on Civil Rights included a visit to William Penn House at my invitation by Julian Bond, who met with a group of students from Carolina Friends School, and multiple visits to the office of Dorothy Height, a true matriarch of the Movement, who for many years, among other leading accomplishments, headed the National Council of Negro Women.  I recall Dr. Height describing the first time she met Martin Luther King, Jr.  He was fifteen years old, and she said even then she knew he was someone special.   

Dr. King certainly accomplished a lot of good during his short life (he has been gone as long as he was alive), and inspired greatness in others, as well.

As there is continuing discussion about faith and politics related to the current presidential election campaign, I thought I would mention an incident I witnessed in this regard.   

It was during the late 1980’s when several denominations and religious groups held weekly vigils on the steps of the U.S. Capitol protesting Reagan’s policies in Central America.   One week when I was there, several heads of denominations also were present for the rally, including Rev. Dr. John Humbert, the Disciples General Minister and President in those days, and Rev. Dr. Avery Post, then President of the United Church of Christ.   

Following the outside speeches and activities, Drs. Humbert, Post and others went into the rotunda.  The rest of us crowded around as the Capitol police became very interested in what they were going to do.  You see, it’s against the law to offer public prayers or conduct religious services inside the rotunda.  John Humbert, like some of the others, was wearing his pulpit robe, so he looked like a religious person about to do something religious.  He and the others began praying together the Lord’s Prayer. 

The warnings were polite but firm from the Capitol police.  Humbert, Post, et. al. received three opportunities to cease and desist.  When they failed to do so, large unsmiling men who carried revolvers broke up their prayer circle.  Perhaps some of the spoilsports were deacons in churches in the city.  

I’ll never forget the sight of John Humbert being hustled down a hallway of the Capitol by the cops, his robe flapping and fluttering.  Next stop – the D.C. jail.  The consequence was being booked and the option of a day or two behind bars or a fifty dollar fine. 

Shortly afterwards, I sent Dr. Humbert a note telling him I witnessed his arrest and that I was proud of his willingness to make a public stand.  I knew he was going to catch holy hell.  He wrote back and thanked me for my support, suggesting that my remarks to him didn’t necessarily represent the majority view. 

Almost twenty years later, when he was well into retirement and attended a worship service where I was installed as the pastor at a Disciples church, I told him “I was there when...” He laughed and took pleasure in hearing about it again.

You will never find agreement on the issues in churches, especially a church like the Disciples of Christ, but I think it is important to apply one’s understanding of the faith in forming opinions, drawing conclusions, or expressing a point of view.

Yesterday’s entry got me thinking some more about my days at Christian Theological Seminary, and the interesting people I encountered during that period.   

There were various students on campus that audited classes or just took them with no particular degree program in mind.  It seemed a high proportion of these folks showed up for the introductory “Christian” psychology class.  As the wise old professor droned obvious statements, auditors furiously scribbled and nodded, the insights preserved forever in notebooks that soon would be laid to eternal rest on a shelf or tossed onto the floor of a car.   

One time I wrote a paper criticizing a popular spirituality/ministry book of the day, suggesting a radical revision of the author’s points and the order in which they were presented.  Frankly, I’d had enough of all the hoo-rah.  The professor of the class, a kindly CTS-lifer was electrified.  He declared it one of the best papers he ever read in his long career and encouraged me to send it to the author of the book I shredded.   

While I was grateful for the jolt to my GPA, I elected not to pursue the matter.  A dozen years later, at a huge peace rally at the National Cathedral in Washington, at which we implored George H.W. Bush to keep his bombs to himself (we failed), I made lingering eye contact with the author.  I just gave him a small smile and polite nod. 

The professor who was so impressed by my work on the paper provided a memorable moment during a subsequent class discussion.  He was infuriated by the thought of some issue that now eludes my memory.  He sputtered as he searched for words strong enough to express his total disapproval and disdain. “That’s…just...(quivering anger rising along with blood pressure)…for the BIRDS!” 

Not all of his professorial colleagues were as mundane in their expressions.

Today I learned of the January 4^th death of Lester McAllister, a teacher, mentor, advisor, and friend.   When I was a student at Christian Theological Seminary in Indianapolis, Indiana, I spent time as an assistant minister at Wabash Christian Church.  In those days, the church hosted an event called the Master Teacher Program.  Each year, they invited a highly credentialed Disciple to come and present a special lecture program. One of the programs featured Lester, who was the Church History professor at CTS.  By that time, I had taken a course or two with Lester, without especially distinguishing myself. 

Lester wrote extensively on Disciples history, including as co-author of the authoritative Journey in Faith.   His career as a professor was lengthy and distinguished, at CTS, and before that at Bethany College, a Disciples-related college in West Virginia established by Alexander Campbell, the shining light among Disciples forebears. 

When Lester showed up in Wabash to be the Master Teacher, he poked his face into my office at the church and said in his high-decibel voice, “So, this is where the great man works!”  I scrambled to my feet, surprised by the greeting, and even more so by his seeming familiarity with me.  I thought I simply was a face in the crowd.  For some reason, that changed, beginning with his greeting.

When the lecture program was concluded, and the daily CTS routine rolled along back in Indianapolis, I found myself in a new position I never anticipated – firmly embraced under the wing of Lester McAllister.  What a blessing it was to have someone of his stature take a personal interest in me, my education and unfolding career in ministry.  To this day, I don’t know why he suddenly showed me such favor. 

Apart from a semester when Lester was on sabbatical, I think I took a class with him every term.  I wasn’t sure I really belonged in seminary, and his attention slowly wore away some of my defenses.  His seeming assumption that I really was OK, and that I actually did have something to offer made a big difference to me.

One Friday I encountered Lester in the hallway a couple of hours prior to a final exam in his class.  He tilted his head back and looked at me through his bifocals, eyebrows arched, in his best English school master pose, and said ominously at great volume, “And why aren’t YOU in the LIBRARY STUDYING?”  I kind of shrugged and he continued his role, “Are you operating under the 500 YEAR theory, that 500 YEARS from now this EXAM and your GRADE won’t MATTER ANYWAY?” 

Taking up his challenge, I replied, “No, I’m operating under the three hour theory.  Three hours from now I’ll be in my car driving down highway 31 on my way out of town and I won’t be worried about it.”  In spite of my lame attempt at humor he let out his big laugh.  

On an occasion or two, I was invited to Lester’s townhouse for a social gathering, and once when Mary was visiting Indianapolis he took the two of us to lunch at the downtown club of which he was a member.   It turned out I was one of the first people he told the shocking news when he accidentally discovered he was adopted.  He was in his late 50’s at the time, and was quite shaken.

A dreaded rite of passage for Master of Divinity candidates at CTS was the class numbered in the catalogue as X-815.  I think it was titled something benign like “The Christian Ministry,” but we all knew there was much to anticipate.  It was the culminating activity for us, in which we wrote a major paper basically summing up our understanding of ministry in light of EVERYTHING we learned and experienced at CTS. 

Writing the paper was daunting enough, but once the paper was accepted (following three rounds of reviews by fellow students and our faculty advisor, and the subsequent re-writes), the final horror was an oral exam by a panel of three professors.  Friends nervously hovered and paced in the hallways when a student entered the arena to approach the grim intimidating panel of lions.  Body language and facial expressions were closely observed and analyzed when he or she emerged for the break and at the end of the session.  Those whose date with destiny had yet to arrive desperately tried to glean every aspect of the experience from the brave souls who went before us. 

My own experience on the hot seat was positive.  Lester was one of my examiners, and when it was over, he and I hopped into his little red MGB convertible and zoomed off to lunch.  He bought. 

We never lost touch, even if some years only included an exchange of Christmas cards.    Lester participated in my ordination service, held at my home church in Virginia.  He visited us at a few points along the twisting journey inherent in many a ministerial career.  We saw him at numerous Disciples gatherings, on a couple of occasions unexpectedly.  He served as a personal reference, probably more than once, as I moved from one job to the next.  He sent me inscribed copies of his books as they were published.  Every once in a while we had telephone conversations.  So, he’s seemed to Mary and me a part of the family.

In August of 2005 I traveled to Claremont, California to visit Lester and two other favorite professors, T. J. Liggett and Davie Napier, all of whom were living at Pilgrim Place, a retirement community for church professionals.  When I arrived, Lester immediately assumed his role of teacher, with me as the student, and it continued for the three days I was there.  Within twenty minutes of arriving, as I sat in his favorite living room chair, I learned the history of Pilgrim Place, and I had an assignment.  I was to read an article about Billy Graham published in The New Yorker.  He handed me the magazine.

Lester told me about his latest writing project, an article about the person who published the earliest photographs of Jerusalem, and I learned the man’s life story and his connection to Disciples.  Lester questioned me about books I had read and made other suggestions.  He described a number of his trips from over the years to various continents and countries (“all ministers should travel”), he updated me on his health, talked about his years in youth work and ministry prior to teaching, filled me in on other Disciples residents at Pilgrim Place, told about the church he regularly attended, mentioned some of the visitors who recently had been to see him, presented a couple of options for sight-seeing and laid out my schedule for the next day. 

Later that night, when I was back in my room, I called Mary and said, “I’ve taken in a lot of information today.”  Then I did my homework before happily reflecting on my day and drifting off to sleep.

That visit was the last time I saw Lester, but I think he knew how much I appreciated his attention, friendship and guidance.  Everyone needs to have a person like Lester McAllister in his or her life. 

I will miss him.

I will be taking a break for a couple of weeks.  

Come back in early January, and I'll talk to you again!