Pub Theology 4/2/24 — Who are you in this story?

Indifference, if not outright hostility, toward religion is not just a feature of our current age, but has been around for quite a while. Humanists, secular philosophers, and atheists of many stripes have long tarred religion with the brush of superstition and ignorance. The quote above, from 18th century French Enlightenment philosopher and writer Paul Thiry Baron d'Holbach, comes out this tradition. D'Holbach believed that people can use common sense to discover moral principles without needing religion or divine intervention. He thought that people should be just, moderate, and sociable because it makes them feel good, not because it's what a god commands. In his 1772 book Good Sense: or, Natural Ideas Opposed to Supernatural makes the following claim: "To discover the true principles of Morality, men have no need of theology, of revelation, or of gods: They have need only of common sense.” At its heart, what d'Holbach puts forward is an alternative theory of the origins of morality. As an advocate of secular morality, and a self-described anti-theist and opponent or religion, d'Holbach and others who have adopted this perspective essentially argue that morality doesn't require religion. It's based on social ties, education, and sympathy. Some say that people shouldn't be motivated by the fear of punishment or the hope of reward after death. In contrast, those who approach morality through a theist lens, i.e. a belief in God (or gods), suggest that without God, morality would just be a social convention without any universal validity beyond cultures or self-interest. The second chapter of the Epistle to Titus, traditionally attributed to St. Paul though the scholarly consensus casts significant doubt on that attribution today, is essentially guidance to clergy, specifically bishops, for the teaching of "sound doctrine," in other words instruction in what does and does not meet the demands of moral conduct. Titus 2:11-12 roots this in the divine: "For the grace of God has appeared for the salvation of all men, training us to renounce irreligion and worldly passions, and to live sober, upright, and godly lives in this world," Let's talk about this. Is common sense, and common sense alone, sufficient to produce morality, or, as the baron puts it, discover its true principles? Is d'Holbach right, is common sense enough? And if it is, why does it -- both common sense and morality -- seem is such short supply sometimes? Or is morality a consequence of divine authority? Join us for the conversation this week as we wrestle with the age-old question of where morality comes from. The discussion starts at 7pm Tuesday, Feb. 18 at Casa Real in downtown Oxford.

Without really planning it, we seem to have hit upon something of a theme over the last few weeks of PubTheo conversations. We started with a discussion about speaking truth to power, which led to last week's discussion of allyship and what it means to be an ally. And then, at church at St. Mary's this past Sunday, there were two moments in the service which alluded to a famous prayer that has been attributed to St. Francis of Assisi though the author is actually unknown. If you're unfamiliar with it, the prayer starts like this: "Lord, make me an instrument of your peace ..."  It continues this way: "Lord make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy." There is more to the text, but for our purposes, this is where we'll leave off, at least for this week. In the troubled times that we find ourselves in, how does the text of this prayer speak to us? What does it mean to be an instrument of peace? And is peace really what our times are calling for these days? Thinking on that question brought to mind the words of the late congressman and civil rights leader John Lewis, quoted in the illustration for this week's topic. The above-mentioned quote actually comes from a Tweet Lewis wrote back in 2018, a similarly divisive and troubled time in America's political and civic life. Here's the full text:: "Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble." What do you think Lewis meant when he talked about "good trouble" and "necessary trouble"? What was he calling on everyday people to do? Back in 2021, the National Endowment for the Arts posed that question to a group of artists, asking them to reflect on the meaning of good trouble. You can read what they had to say by clicking on this link . In our conversation this week we're going to talk about the relationship between being asking to be an "instrument of your peace" and being called on to get into good and necessary trouble. How do these two sets of ideas fit together? Are they consistent or are they contradictory? In short, is getting into "good trouble" a way to become an instrument of peace? Join us for the discussion this Tuesday, Feb. 11, starting at 7pm at Casa Real in downtown Oxford.

This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our services are at 8:30 & 10:00 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream for the 10:00 a.m. service.

During our conversation on speaking truth to power last week, and specifically when we turned to speaking up for others who are vulnerable or in need of compassion from those in positions of power or authority, we touched on the questions of allyship, and what it means to be an ally. Turns out that one of our regulars has some background and experience with these questions, and a passion for the topic, so we're going to explore the ideas in our conversation this week. Allyship is something that a lot of people us in theory, but have a difficult time putting into practice. One of the central tensions in the ally's relationship to people affected by bias is the champion/assistant dilemma. As this article from the Harvard Business Review explains, the champion model is one where a person of privilege uses that privilege to make the kinds of far-reaching change that the disadvantaged person can't make on their own. In this model "Allies ... shoulder some of that burden, freeing marginalized people to spend less time advocating for themselves and more time living their lives." By contrast, in the assistant model the ally takes a step back. "In the assistant model, allies serve as helpers on projects led by others. Proponents of this model point out that affected people know best how to advance their own interests. For that reason, allies need to step back and 'pass the mic' to affected people. To the extent allies bring their own ideas and voices to the table, it’s in a clearly subordinate role." Figuring out whether to act as a champion or an assistant is a thorny choice, and fraught with uncertainty that can prevent a potential ally from doing or saying anything at all. People may worry that their attempts at speaking up will seem performative or even patronizing. Some people are so worried about making mistakes, that they stay silent even when they want to speak up. This fear of doing the wrong thing often prevents people from doing ANYthing. Prof. Christian van Nieuwerburgh from the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland and Dr. Jummy Okoya from the University of East London wrote a wonderful article that starts with a simple definition: " Allyship is about those who are active in supporting efforts to increase fairness and inclusion in our societies." You can read the full thing, along with their practical guidance about how to be a better ally, by following this link . The steps that they suggest begin with the simple, acknowledging your own privilege, and culminate in taking a stand. There's lots in between. In our conversation this week. we will discuss what it means to be an ally, and what might prevent us from taking on that role for ourselves. We'll consider levels of allyship and how to respond and do better when we inevitably make a misstep. We will also consider how the skills we currently have can be applied to our journey towards more active and effective allyship. Finally, we'll think about the arenas where allyship might make sense in relation to race, socioeconomic status, gender, sexuality, mental health, disability, and the intersectionality of all these that creates unique experiences of discrimination and privilege. We've got a lot on our plate this week, so join us for the discussion starting at 7pm Tuesday, Feb. 4 at Casa Real in downtown Oxford.

This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our services are at 8:30 & 10:00 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream for the 10:00 a.m. service.

With the deep freeze behind us, at least for now, it's time for us to dig into a weighty topic. Two things nearly coincided last week. On Monday we marked Martin Luther King Jr. Day, the day when our country remembers the civil rights icon and spiritual leader who made the powerful and complicit uncomfortable through the power of his words and witness. And on Tuesday, the Rt. Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde, Episcopal Bishop of the Diocese of Washington, D.C., did the same in her sermon at the post-inauguration prayer service held at Washington National Cathedral, her seat as bishop and spiritual leader. In the closing of her sermon, Bishop Budde made a simple but direct plea to newly inaugurated Pres. Donald Trump, that he show mercy. That portion of her 15-minute message is worth quoting in full : "Let me make one final plea, Mr. President. Millions have put their trust in you and, as you told the nation yesterday, you have felt the providential hand of a loving God. In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now. There are gay, lesbian and transgender children in Democratic, Republican, and Independent families, some who fear for their lives. The people who pick our crops and clean our office buildings; who labor in poultry farms and meat packing plants; who wash the dishes after we eat in restaurants and work the night shifts in hospitals. They…may not be citizens or have the proper documentation. But the vast majority of immigrants are not criminals. They pay taxes and are good neighbors. They are faithful members of our churches and mosques, synagogues, gurudwaras and temples. I ask you to have mercy, Mr. President, on those in our communities whose children fear that their parents will be taken away. And that you help those who are fleeing war zones and persecution in their own lands to find compassion and welcome here. Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger, for we were all once strangers in this land. May God grant us the strength and courage to honor the dignity of every human being, to speak the truth to one another in love and walk humbly with each other and our God for the good of all people. Good of all people in this nation and the world. Amen” It was a deeply Christian plea, informed by the Gospel and reflective of the core teachings of Jesus. And, of course, it generated almost instant criticism and condemnation from the president himself and from his supporters, including others who claim for themselves the mantle of Christian. Trump called Budde a "so-called bishop" and a "radical Left hard line Trump hater" who had brought her church into the world of politics in a very ungracious way." His supporters said worse. Their condemnations have included charges of heresy and threats of physical harm up to and including death. You can read a very good discussion of all of this, along with the bishop's reaction, in this article from The New York Times . As Elizabeth Bruenig wrote at The Atlantic , exhortations for mercy are never easy for the powerful to hear. "Trump was outraged by Budde’s remarks, and predictably so: Those vested with an abundance of worldly power should find the radical Christian message of mercy hard to hear, because it demands mildness and leniency of the mighty rather than strength and bombast. ... The Christian faith is careful to exhort the powerful to mercy because mercy is so opposed to the exercise of power." So we're going to talk about all of this in our conversation this week. Why can it be so hard to speak truth to power? Have you ever found yourself in such a situation where you've had to make a decision about raising uncomfortable truths to those in positions of power or authority? And what do you make of the controversy that the bishop's remarks generated? How is it that such a simple plea for mercy and kindness received such negative backlash? Join us for the discussion this week, Tuesday Jan. 28. The conversation starts at 7pm at Casa Real in downtown Oxford.

This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our services are at 8:30 & 10:00 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream for the 10:00 a.m. service.

This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our services today will be at 9:30 followed by our annual meeting. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream for the 10:00 a.m. service.

Your hardworking staff here at PubTheo came across the above quote from Albert Einstein the other day, and it sparked a thought: When was the last time I really exercised my imagination? Much of my day-to-day revolves around task management and following the dictates of a fairly routine schedule. In these circumstances I think I fall back on logic -- Einstein's getting from A to B -- much more so than any real sense of imagination. So when do I exercise my imagination? Einstein also had this to say about imagination and knowledge: "Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world." A more famous version of this quote appears in a book Einstein wrote in 1931, Cosmic Religion and Other Opinions and Aphorisms . "At times I feel certain I am right while not knowing the reason. When the eclipse of 1919 confirmed my intuition, I was not in the least surprised. In fact, I would have been astonished had it turned out otherwise. Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited, whereas imagination embraces the entire world, stimulating progress, giving birth to evolution. It is, strictly speaking, a real factor in scientific research.” What is your take on all of this? What role does imagination play in your everyday life? Or in your life in general? Do you see the distinction between logic and imagination that Einstein identifies? What about the idea that imagination is more important than knowledge? What do you think Einstein was driving at? Do you agree? Which is more important in your own life, knowledge or imagination? Would you say that most problems stem from a lack of knowledge, or a lack of imagination? For a longer discussion of Einstein's perspective on the relationship between knowledge and imagination, this article is worth reading . Where would you say imagination comes from? Do you consider yourself an imaginative person? Have you ever let your imagination run wild? What was that like for you? Finally, have you ever met anyone that you believed was truly lacking in imagination? Join us for the conversation this Tuesday evening, Jan. 14, starting at 7pm at Casa Real in downtown Oxford. Imagine what a great discussion we'll have!