Dear People of the Covenant:
I grew up among people who held a paradoxical relationship with Jews. On the one hand, most of the adult men in my childhood congregation were veterans of World War II, and many found great meaning for their service in the liberation of the Jewish people from the brutal tyranny of anti-Semitic Nazism. On the other hand, because the Jews had rejected Jesus, we were confident they were going to hell. There was also a third hand that colored our understanding of Jewish-Christian relations, and that was a reading of Biblical prophecy that insisted the formation of the nation of Israel was a prerequisite for the second coming of Jesus, something we were weekly enjoined to hasten.
Hands number one and number three shook quite confidently, as the formation of the modern nation of Israel arose directly from the conclusion of WWII, but the middle hand often tremored with the palsy of ambivalence. We were quite confident that belief in Jesus was an imperative ingredient in salvation, but also insistent that Hebrew Scriptures (we called the Old Testament) were unambiguous regarding God’s preference for the Jewish people. The centerpiece of our defense of Israel was found in God’s promise with Abram (later called Abraham) found in Genesis 12.1-3:
Now the Lord had said unto Abram, “Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father's house, unto a land that I will shew thee: And I will make of thee a great nation, and I will bless thee, and make thy name great; and thou shalt be a blessing: And I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee: and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed.” (King James translation, obviously)
Intertwined with the interpretation of these verses was the desire to remain on the blessing side of the Abrahamic Covenant, thereby suggesting that any opposition to the State of Israel was near blasphemy; but because of a narrow reading of history, implying that all Jews were tainted by the crucifixion, individual or ethnic antisemitism was freely permitted. This paradox was captured in a couplet penned by a British journalist, William Norman Ewer, who with unambiguous disdain wrote during WWI,
How odd of God / to choose the Jews.
In response, American playwright and Yiddish lexicographer Leo Rosten humorously quipped,
Not odd of God. / Goyim annoy 'im.
But it was left to Ogden Nash to pen the ultimate rebuttal:
But not so odd / As those who choose
A Jewish God / Yet spurn the Jews.
Which brings us to the recent political Congressional House resolution condemning antisemitism, driven by the anxiety that criticism of modern Zionism be somehow interpreted as fundamentally anti-Jewish. Realizing I’m wading into deep, un-parting waters, I am fascinated by the uniquely American alliance between Christian evangelicals and Zionists, the former exercising significant political weight these days and the latter more than willing to cynically exploit evangelical blind allegiance to Genesis 12.1-3 who theologically believe Jews are consigned to the fires of hell.
Of course, the fact remains that ancient and modern Jews are not a monolithic lump of political or theological unanimity. Historically, it was a political faction within Israel that found expedience in the execution of Jesus; in the same way, suppression of Palestinian autonomy is driven by a modern political faction within Israel. I am encouraged by Rebecca Vilkomerson, executive director of Jewish Voice for Peace, who in July of 2018 announced a resolution endorsed by over forty Jewish organizations worldwide. This statement disentangles criticism of the nation state of Israel from disparaging attitudes towards individuals of a particular cultural tradition and faith. The resolution reads:
From our own histories we are all too aware of the dangers of increasingly fascistic and openly racist governments and political parties. The rise in anti-Semitic discourse and attacks worldwide is part of that broader trend. At times like this, it is more important than ever to distinguish between the hostility to or prejudice against Jews on the one hand and legitimate critiques of Israeli policies and system of injustice on the other. It is vital that Jewish organizations across the globe stand united against harmful definitions of antisemitism and together for human rights and the freedom to protest.
In other words, to draw a linear connection between the blessing of Abraham and the policies of Benjamin Netanyahu is to misread both the Scriptures and these times.
Rushing in where angels fear to tread, I remain,
With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor
Dear Busybodies,
Labor Day—that last gasp of summer as we slip our summer whites into storage and prepare for the seasonal responsibilities of harvest. A day for workers to set aside the drudgery of Mondays for one fleeting glimpse of how life could always be had we been born into the luxury of the leisure class. Except these days we no longer mark success as freedom from responsibility, but rather prove our worth by a flurry of perpetual busyness.
Imagine Elon Musk or Jeff Bezos lingering over one more game of croquet on the lawn while sipping lemonade. Or Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg touring aimlessly down a coastal highway, windblown with
Dear Seekers:
This past week I attended a required clergy continuing education program hosted by the Presbytery of Chicago. A portion of the day was devoted to helping us understand the importance of monitoring our stress. When we are under pressure, we are more likely to violate the personal boundaries of others; we become less supportive of their needs, and our tolerance for their behavior wears thin. At the same time, the presenters wanted us to appreciate how stress helps us grow, building our resilience, so they offered this illustration...
Biosphere 2 was a research project constructed in the Arizona desert in the late 1980s to determine if it was possible to create a closed ecological system which, in the future, might sustain human life on other planets. It’s a massive domed structure that replicates
Dear Wealthy Investors:
If you’ve missed the fact that I think a “prosperity gospel” is heresy, then we haven’t talked. Religious hucksters have been around since the beginning of time. Even the early church struggled with that brand of phony.
In Acts 4.32, we’re told how many people sold property to place the money before the Apostles so they could distribute it to any who were in need. In Acts chapter 5, Ananias and his wife Sapphira wanted in on the action. Christians were digging deep to support the work of the early church. So Ananias and Sapphira sold a piece of property, but they held back
Dear Political Patrons:
I’m not a Chicago native, but I’ve spent nearly three times as many years as a resident of the Windy City as I had in my hometown of Omaha, and all of that time on the South Side (if one counts Hyde Park as the South Side). When I arrived in Hyde Park, Michael Bilandic was Mayor, and the fact that he was Croatian was of little consequence to my newfound awareness of Chicago politics. The Irish were kings of the South Side ever since Mayor Richard J. Daley’s mother, Lillian, announced that she wanted more for her son than being a policeman. Richard J. didn’t disappoint.
Daley (the elder) had a keen sense of optics, making sure that his base constituencies were well represented when handing out credit and meting out power. His was a carefully crafted machine in which the component parts were not
Dear Collective Clergy:
As you may gather from my sermons over the past several weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about community, about interdependence, about sharing. Perhaps because there are few things less independent or self-sufficient than caring for someone who is ill; or perhaps because I am old enough to realize there are some things I will never accomplish in this life. Whatever the reason, I’ve been musing about how spirituality has become a personal responsibility. We’ve privatized it. We are taught that each of us is responsible for working out our own salvation, our prayer life, our meditation, our scriptural devotion, even our emotional health and faith. I’m not so sure that’s right.
Much of this started with the Reformation. The reformers denounced the special position priests held in mediating God’s presence for the people through the
Dear, Dear Friends:
Letters from the pastor are traditionally epistles of reprimand. Seeing oneself as constrained by a stiff-necked people, the pastor attempts to write the congregation into submission. Confident that the only limit to their ministerial wonderfulness is spiritual stubbornness, they dedicate their pens and preaching to browbeat the very congregation to which they are called. I sometimes wonder how church members tolerate such dismissive paternalism. There must be something irresistible in the friendships, or the choir rehearsals, or the coffee that brings people back to endure their weekly scolding. I have on occasion, submitted my congregations to such smug condescending judgmentalism, and now looking back, I am sorry. My regret arises not only from the absurdity of ‘biting the hands that feed me,’ but
Dear Welcoming Worshipers:
This may come as a bit of a surprise, but occasionally I muse about things other than political temperament or cultural erosion; sometimes I muse about the church—and not just its niche in society or role in public discourse. I sometimes think about how we ‘do’ church and how we ‘are’ church.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been rolling around in my head our metrics. What we count, how we measure progress, where we look for trends. Most often we consider ‘how many’, as in attendance, and ‘how much’, as in offerings or expenditures. But independent from this annual report data, I’ve been thinking about people, as in those who are not yet part of our fellowship, and I’m beginning to believe our systems of connection may be upside-down.
The centerpiece of our community in both energy and focus is our gathering
Dear Fatigued Faithful:
Now that the state of Louisiana has codified posting the Ten Commandments in every public school classroom, attention has been given to commandments 7 (Thou shalt not commit adultery) and 9 (Thou shalt not bear false witness) and whether or not the politicians who endorse the policy live up to these commands. Those who defend the posting of the Decalogue claim it is a bedrock document of American law, and as such a piece of history without religious prejudice. My musing over this issue, and the recent state school superintendent of Oklahoma mandating the teaching of the Bible in schools, has less to do with the documents themselves and more to do with the qualifications of those who will interpret their meaning for young minds.
Of course, the Ten Commandments is a religious document. Let’s start with #1, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” There is nothing secular about that! Of course, moving on, the next three commandments are equally sectarian: #2 Thou shalt not make any graven image, #3 Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain and #4 Remember
Dear Bugged Ones:
As many as 1.5 million cicadas per acre emerged a few weeks ago in our region of Illinois. With great anticipation, people dreaded the endless sound of their mating screech. It was amazing how finding a single cicada in the house and courting him outside could fill the air with so much noise. While larger than most bugs, it still seemed to emit more sound than its size could resonate. The crunching sound too—of thousands of exoskeletons littering the sidewalks—created its own fascinating cringe.
Love them or hate them, they’re now nearly gone.
It will be 2041 when our brood emerges again. If I’m still around, I’ll be 80.
Dear Keepers of the Faith:
Last week the Southern Baptist denomination voted to change its constitution in order to fully codify that the office of Pastor could only be held by men. Congregations who deign to use the title Pastor for someone without a Y chromosome will be expelled from the denomination. Closely intertwined with the amendment’s rhetoric was a conservative political pushback related to debates over gender identity. It was not coincidental that former VP Mike Pence addressed the conference in person, and candidate President Trump provided pre-recorded video remarks to the assembly. Affirming the masculine prerequisite for congregational leadership, the vote was seen as a thumb-in-the-eye to political progressives who the Southern Baptists believe
Dear Dinner Guests,
Beginning this coming Sunday, June 9, our Adult Education program will feature a series of speakers discussing the lingering spiritual and emotional impact of the COVID-19 pandemic. These presentations will rely on materials and research prepared for the spring conference that didn’t happen due to low enrollment. I reflected on possible reasons for our collective disinterest a few weeks back in an essay linked here, and it is quite possible these Sunday post-worship gatherings will garner the same lackluster participation. But in consultation with our Adult Ministry Moderator Joe Yount, we’ve decided to try anyway, because we believe these conversations will be good for you—think of it as educational broccoli.
A core concern of mine has to do with what I have witnessed as a pastor and counselor when we fail to acknowledge undigested grief. (Yes, I’ll continue the roughage metaphor.) When we individually or collectively experience trauma, loss or disappointment,
Greetings, Praying Parents:
Sunday was Mother’s Day, and the text for the day was from John 17, a passage known as the High Priestly Prayer of Jesus. I’ve always found this record of Jesus’ words to be daunting. John’s language is layered and complex, and I’ve never quite understood what Jesus was praying. But, since it was Mother’s Day, I attempted to reinterpret John 17 as a mother’s prayer. When I started the project in preparation for my sermon, I was surprised how much more meaningful Jesus’ words were when seen through the heart of a mother.
Following worship, a few people asked if I could share the prayer. Since I hadn’t paraphrased the whole chapter, and chunks were truncated to make a point, I decided to undertake a re-reading of the whole
Dear Non-Conference Non-Attendees:
As you may know, a great deal of effort was put into planning and promoting a post-COVID conference scheduled for the second Saturday in March. Pre-registrations were underwhelming, so the week before the event I decided to cancel it. It’s bad form to have more breakout groups than attendees. I’m grateful for the presenters and preparers who were unable to showcase their no-doubt brilliant work; but discussing the impact of the pandemic four years out was clearly uninteresting to a wider public.
Upon reflection, I realize I shouldn’t be surprised. I conceived of an event designed to address the unprocessed grief we carry regarding what was lost during those dark months of soaring death rates and social isolation. I recognize now that a conference organized to address denial is doomed by its own irony.
Perhaps because I spent so much time thinking about the pandemic’s impact on our social psyche,
Dear Deep Intercessors:
As I’ve mentioned before, when confronted with pain, struggle, deprivation, weakness, etc., we’re not comfortable regulating our helplessness. “Thoughts and prayers” have become a trivializing phrase, hiding passivity in the face of tragedy. But there are times when that’s all we’ve got. Unfortunately, “I’ll pray for you” feels like a last resort when we’ve exhausted all the options of practical assistance. It feels like surrender. ‘I wanted to do something useful, but all the wonderful things I could do have been declined, so I guess I’m stuck with praying instead.’
I understand how quickly feelings of helplessness can degenerate into a self-loathing
Dear Taxing Filers:
April 15th, Tax Day! Hopefully you’re not scrambling to finish the filing task on this beautiful Monday; I usually am. Not because I procrastinate, which I do, but because ministers are paid like independent contractors, so the 15.3% self-employment tax on salary and housing allowance usually leaves a little extra needed to top off my quarterly payments from the previous year. Like many, I’m in no rush to hand off that cash. I am grateful for the continued income tax exemption provided to clergy for housing allowance, but am not confident that exemption will last. Implemented to compensate pastors who own their homes rather than live in a church manse, local municipalities like the allowance because it keeps clergy houses on the property tax rolls. Churches do not pay tax for their property, including church-owned pastors' housing. (Strangely enough, continuation of the housing allowance exemption finds its greatest protection from the U.S. military.) All this brings me to today’s musing, a brief history of the religious church tax exemption.
It’s an old allowance. Christian Emperor Constantine (272-337 BCE) famously insulated Christian churches from Roman taxation, a tradition that was continued
Dear Sunward Gazers,
As I write this we are anticipating a solar eclipse, which reminds me of my brief childhood hope of becoming an astronomer. It was the height of the Space Race, and Apollo missions were already in full gear, inching the United States closer to planting the first human feet on the moon. My neighborhood buddies and I were well aware of the tragic Apollo 1 accident on February 21, 1967, in which Command Pilot Gus Grissom, Senior Pilot Ed White and Pilot Roger B. Chaffee perished in an awful fire during a launch rehearsal. An electrical spark ignited nylon insulation, and the conflagration was accelerated by the use of pure, high-pressure oxygen in the cabin. A congressional investigation resulted in several changes to the module’s design, particularly the use of a far less explosive nitrogen/oxygen mixture. They had briefly experimented with an even more inert helium/oxygen blend, but that combination made the astronauts sound like Alvin and the other chipmunks, so it was scuttled in the name of dignity.
Most of my friends aspired to be astronauts, but I was a risk-averse kid. As with the high dive or the zipline, I preferred to be an observer rather than a potential stain on the pool’s bottom or cautionary splat on a camp trail. Astronomy was for me—it was a profession that involved sitting
Dear Sitters:
In 2001, Norwegian composer Rolf Løvland wrote a short instrumental piece with a contemplative melody and haunting harmonies titled “Silent Story”. A few years later, Løvland approached novelist and songwriter Brendan Graham to write lyrics for the piece. It was first performed at the funeral of Løvland’s mother by vocalist Johnny Logan, who later recorded a demo of the piece with full orchestra. The song was picked up by various artists, but these recordings languished without much fanfare; that was until 2003, when producer David Foster selected the song for up-and-coming star Josh Groban. “You Raise Me Up” became one of Groban’s megahits.
The structure of the song creates a sweeping double crescendo of the chorus; just when you think the song has reached its emotional apex, the tune modulates,
Dear Pledging Patriots:
At the close of the 1800s, the United States was swamped with immigrants. Nearly 15% of the nation was foreign born, with a majority coming from northern and western European countries. It was noted that in 1890, one in six Chicago residents had been born in Germany. There were also a substantial number of new American residents from Ireland and eastern Europe. They were largely poor and alarmingly Catholic. Most, regardless of their country of origin, were arriving on American shores having formerly been pledged to kings and other associated royal potentates. Coming to America required not only the acquisition of a new language, but also a changed understanding of citizenship. Republics are very different from monarchies.
Concern over the new arrivals’ ability to assimilate and a fear that they lacked understanding
Dear Ones:
As you may imagine, today’s Musing doesn’t wander far from Dani’s brain surgery today. Some things overwhelm all other threads of concentration. Counting out Aggi’s (our dog) pills this morning and smooshing them into her favorite gummy candy, I was taken aback, because next to the newly filled pill cup was another pill cup containing the pills, each stuffed into a gummy. Clearly, I had done that task earlier in the morning and had no actual memory of having performed that part of my morning routine. I’m finding myself making sure the keys are in my pocket several times each time I get out of the car. Deep thought clearly takes up a lot of space, crowding out the mundane mental wanderings of an average day…
Dear Past Pandemic Prospectors,
Four years ago, during the second week of March 2020, the world underwent a profound transformation. Restaurants, schools, libraries, museums, churches, offices, sports arenas—any place where people gathered—shut down for nearly two years. Social connections were reduced to glowing screens, loved ones were glimpsed behind closed windows, learning was confined to laptops, and touch was abandoned. The world functioned at a distance, and remote living seemed safer.
When 'normalcy' returned, there was a rush to resume activities, to gather, to embrace, and to move forward. However, in our haste, we overlooked
Dear God Lovers:
I seldom experience past sermon preparation bleeding over into my Monday brain—by Sunday afternoon I’ve pretty much exhausted all interest in that morning’s texts, and I attempt to create some headspace to welcome the following week’s passages. But yesterday’s epistle reading from 1 Corinthians 8.1-13 has left some spiritual residue about which I have been musing.
For those who were there or who listened online, the focus of my sermon was the conclusion of the first verse of the passage, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” These words were convicting enough to wrestle out a full sermon. But verse 2 is equally if not more startling. Paul writes,
Dear Members and Friends:
This past Saturday our elders and deacons gathered for our annual time for learning and mutual encouragement. Back in 2012, the Presbyterian Church (USA) changed the term “Minister of Word and Sacrament” to “Teaching Elder” as the designation for ordained clergy in our denomination. It didn’t really catch on, and now both terms are considered appropriate. Whatever term you use to refer to me, my experience at our Saturday gathering was that of a learner, not an instructor. And while the content of what I learned was not really new, it was great to revisit and be reminded of the wealth of wisdom and grace FPCLG has among its officers.
The Session met in the morning, and I heard again of their deep love for our congregation and their appreciation for how we do church. They shared their desire
Dear Shivering Saints:
There’s something about extreme cold that makes creativity difficult. As mammals, a good portion of our metabolism is obsessed with keeping our body temperature at a level where all the chemical and mechanical reactions can function efficiently, and there’s a very narrow temperature range where that can happen. As a result, when the ambient temperature is very cold or very hot, we either curl up to preserve warmth or sprawl out to maximize surface area and dissipate heat. Those of you who are dog owners know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s only when the air around us hits the Goldilocks zone
Dear Morning Makers:
I woke up this morning to our furnace functioning quite efficiently, and while its humidifier unit underfunctions a bit on cold winter days, we bought a large console floor model which works quite well, and despite its age we can still find filter wicks in stock at both Menards and Home Depot. Our hot water heater is a few years old, but it works great and seems significantly more responsive than the one it replaced. When I went to the basement yesterday, the green indicator light on the freezer shone brightly, and it’s partially full of a variety of rock-hard frozen foods. Meanwhile, upstairs
Dear Christmas Time Crunchers:
In a recent article published by the American Psychological Association, researchers Julian Givi and Colleen P. Kirk presented their findings regarding the emotional weight associated with declining an invitation (a PDF of the article may be found here). Briefly stated, their study found that those who decline invitations predict far more negative ramifications from the inviter than are justified. For example, if someone invites you to lunch and you decline, they tend to be far less disappointed than you think they are. The implication of the findings suggests that we respond positively to invitations more often than we honestly desire, and when we decline invitations, we are disposed to exaggerate the weight of our excuse. While my own research on this topic is far less scientific, I’m inclined to agree. Which brings me to my
Dear Advent Star Gazers:
There are many accounts of the Cuban Missile Crisis which I will not recount for you here today, but as this time of year we muse together about Christmas music, some of you may not know how these two topics overlap.
For a quick background, the United States had placed nuclear tipped Jupiter missiles with NATO allies Italy and Turkey in 1961. At that same time the Kennedy administration was arming and training Cuban exiles to mount attacks on Fidel Castro’s regime, a strategy
Dear Light Walkers:
I’ve been thinking a lot about our understanding of binary categories ever since several months ago I listened to an interview with a man who is blind, having lost his vision in his mid-twenties in an accident. He mentioned that he did have some shadow vision—he could make out shapes and forms, but they lacked definition and color. When he described what his poorly functioning eyes could ‘see’, he expressed his surprise that many people told him he wasn’t really blind. He said that we think of blindness and sight as a binary relationship, when less than 20%
Dear Happy(?) Campers:
Happiness is a byproduct, not a goal. I heard that quote during a podcast interview last week and it is stuck in my head.
A little research reveals that Mahatma Gandhi may or may not have said something similar. His abbreviated quote usually reads, “Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” Except that seems to be a memeification (yes, invented word) of a longer, more verifiable Gandhi quote: “Happiness is a direction, not a place. Happiness