OPC FG XXXI, 5

As you are no doubt aware, chapter XXXI, 5 of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church's Form of Government clearly states that local congregations, and not presbyteries nor the General Assembly, have control over their own local properties. It's there because, as I hope you're aware, when the congregations which would become the OPC seceded from the old Presbyterian Church U.S.A. (often because their pastors had come under Church discipline for not affirming theological liberalism), the national denomination asserted ownership of their buildings and property. Often these congregations were sued in the civil courts; shockingly, the local congregation won control of their property only once, even though in every case the properties had been bought and paid for by the local members, not the national denomination.

This sad history is playing itself out again as the "mainline" denominations take another decisive step away from the historic Christian faith. (In the twentieth century, they denied essential Christian doctrine; in the twenty-first, essential Christian ethics. Since the Church has historically been defined first by doctrine and second by ethics, one wonders what of "Christian" is left to these "churches.") As homosexual marriage and ordination are institutionalized, another wave of congregations is seceding and is losing their properties. This week's Research on Religion podcast focuses on a law review article by Michael McConnell and Luke Goodrich, "On Resolving Church Property Disputes," which suggests ways in which civil courts can take a genuinely neutral approach to litigants in these cases. OPC history is not mentioned, but the Form of Government of our sister Church, the Presbyterian Church in America, does get a shout-out.

Of course, the very fact national denominations are taking local congregations to the civil courts is a manifest sign of their failure as Churches (1 Corinthians 6:1-8). This grasping after the things of this world is also what makes me laugh through my tears whenever a liberal protestant postures her or his communion as being much nicer than my own

hide-bound, reactionary fellowship.

2X

No, that's not my pant size.

For a moment, I thought it a little too early in the development of the medium to call this the "Golden Age of Podcasting," but then I remembered the first Golden Age of Television came pretty early on in the development of that medium, too. When a thing is new, there are few to no rules to constrain its growth and direction, and though there are many, many regretful clunkers, there are also wonders too countless to number. Marty, anyone?

I think it was Christmas 2013 when I actually finished listening to all the podcasts in my queue, but then EconTalk did a joint episode with Research on Religion, and I never got caught up again. I try and try and try to resist the temptation to subscribe to another, but Imaginary Worlds was too tempting to pass up. In an ordinary week, I have roughly 30-45 minutes a day (between working out and doing the dishes) to listen to podcasts, with maybe 2-4 more hours during Saturday chores. When you're adding up 6-8 hours of new audio every week, you quickly get into a listening hole. I go through my podcasts in chronological order, so I was about six weeks and and 36 hours behind when I listened to the 500th episode of EconTalk.

Mike Munger mentioned that he listens to his podcasts on 1.5x speed. This had never before occurred to me. I was afraid everyone would sound like a chipmunk, but iTunes uses some sort of audio scrubbing software which doesn't alter the tone or timbre of anyone's voice; it just sounds like they're talking fast. I quickly adjusted to 1.5x, and then took the leap to 2x. As of today, my queue has gone down to only 27 hours, and I'm only 2 and a half weeks behind. At this pace, I am finally beginning to hope I can begin listening to podcasts the week they come out.

Sadly, my iPhone doesn't offer a 2.5x setting.

The Amazing Spider-Man

If you care a bit more than you should about these things, you've almost certainly seen the trailer for Captain America: Civil War in which Spider-Man shows up at the very end. (An aside: perhaps the actual movie will be about the Captain and his close personal allies, but the trailers make it look much more like the next Avengers installment. I go to a Captain America movie to see Captain America. And maybe the Falcon.) This has Thing 1 giddy with excitement, but me not so much.

Back when I was an avid comics reader, my favorite Spider-Man period was when Jim Owsley was editing those titles for Marvel during the 1980s. Thereafter, it seemed to me that Marvel was exploiting the character's popularity for cash value, putting him through countless wrenching changes and cross-overs for little reason other than boosting sales. That said, I thought the Sam Raimi/Tobey Maguire Spider-Man movies were fun, but by the third installment began suffering the same bloat which afflicted the first run of Batman movies after Tim Burton and Michael Keaton left the series. 

And then came The Amazing Spider-Man.

If you know any comic book history at all, you know the stories about how the Stan Lee-, Jack Kirby- and Steve Ditko-led Marvel Comics of the 1960s up-ended the industry. Spider-Man, we read, was revolutionary for having a secret identity which was not only as well-developed as his costumed role, but which was a nebbishy high-school student. We read about the excitement he generated among readers, offering a hero whom they could not only idolize, but to whom they could intimately relate (because you see, children, back in our day all comic book readers were irredeemable doofuses). I read about that Spider-Man, but I didn't experience him other than in the occasional anthology. The Spider-Man of my youth had aged, was in his late twenties, and even married Mary-Jane Watson. All of which was fine, but didn't exactly carry on the legendary magic of Stan Lee's 1960s Spider-Man.

I got that, finally, when Andrew Garfield took on the character in 2012. His portrayal, and the way the two films set his universe, finally landed me in the sheer joy of an adolescent climbing walls and the pathos of a teenager losing the man who had raised him while finding his first serious girlfriend. The Amazing Spider-Man movies gave me the opportunity to experience Stan Lee's original vision. Unlike any number of other recent superhero movies (looking at you, Man of Steel and the X-Men franchise), those films had an emotional heft which has stuck with me.

As much I've enjoyed the Marvel cinematic universe thus far, and the Avengers in particular, I'm not interested in seeing Spider-Man join it. To me, he's always been at his best when he is alone, struggling (and often failing) to figure out his place in the world . At the same time, I don't really object to him snatching away Captain America's shield, either. It's just too bad that moment had to come at the expense of ending Andrew Garfield's take on Spider-Man, the only one in which I've been interested for years.

The word of the day is "nicodemously"

I learned it this morning from Zimbabwean author Pettina Gappah when she was interviewed on NPR's Morning Edition. She was explaining "Zimglish" (backup word of the day):

I'll give you one example: Because we love our Bible — we consider ourselves a very strong Christian country — so we have a lot of phrases that we take from the Bible that we think are English words. So for example Nicodemus, is a man, a Pharisee who went to Jesus at night and said, "How can a man be born again?" So to do something "nicodemously" is to do something secretly, under cover of the darkness. So you have politicians condemning the "Nicodemus machinations of the government" and you think ... What? It's my absolutely favorite Zimglish word of all time.

Clyde is my sensei

More Clyde at http://candorville.com.

In praise of legislative inefficiency

In response to complaints by President Clinton over the U.S. Congress's reluctance to swiftly enact this or that agenda, Bob Dole once said, "One man's gridlock is another man's checks and balances." The peculiar genius of the American federal system of legislation (laws must be passed by two  separate legislative houses [and generally, each law must first be vetted by at least one committee in each of said legislative houses], then approved by the president) is its inefficiency: it's blastedly difficult to get much of anything over all those hurdles. This is a perverse, but remarkably brilliant, defense against bad laws.

Another, more noble view is that all those mechanisms allow for legislative wisdom to be applied through a process of careful deliberation. At the First Things website, M. Anthony Mills uses a profile of Nebraska senator Benjamin Sasse to discuss the political utility, and genuine conservatism, of legislative deliberation.

The Republic may be restored yet.

Pastors at large

With you, the title "pastor-at-large" makes me want to ask, "Does this Genevan robe make me look fat?"

When I recently visited the Presbyterian Church in America's Rocky Mountain Presbytery, its committee on Officers & Churches brought a proposal to call a “Pastor At Large,” modeled on the practice of other PCA presbyteries, who would “be a pastor to pastors.” The proposal was postponed to their next stated meeting for perfection, but the sentiment on the floor seemed to be strongly in favor. If I heard correctly, the Rocky Mountain Presbytery has sixty teaching elders, and several speakers said they felt the spiritual care they receive needs much improvement.

I suspect that sentiment would be echoed in many presbyteries of the PCA and OPC, other than in those in which the sentiment would be "What spiritual care?" Even the most casual observer of presbyterian conflicts will note that many pastors seem to have, to put the point gently, "issues." Many presbyters will object, and with good reason, that it costs money to call and support a pastor-at-large (also called a "presbyter-at-large"). Fair enough. How much money do Church splits cost? How much money is permanently lost to a presbytery and denomination when a congregaton dissolves or withdraws?

Spiritual care is not a luxury. It's a necessity.

Love Hopes All Things

(The below was delivered to the Rocky Mountain Presbytery of the Presbyterian Church of America at its stated meeting in the building of Skyview Presbyterian Church on January 28, 2016, at which I represented the OPC's Presbytery of the Dakotas as a fraternal delegate.)

“Love hopes all things,” Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians 13:7. When love is directed toward God, that hope is obviously eschatological: love hopes that one day we will see our Lord face to face and know fully even as we have been fully known (1 Corinthians 13:12). But what is that hope when love is directed toward other persons? How about when love is directed toward the most unlovely of persons, other presbyters?

In that case as well, our hope must be eschatological. We may be quick to grant the salvation and piety of presbyterian brothers with whom we disagree, but slow to recognize that they may also act against their baser instincts and, with us, strive for the good of the Church and the souls of fellow believers. That slowness and distrust, of course, is cynicism, and whatever aid cynicism may be in surviving the cruelties of a fallen world, it is hope’s opposite. Cynicism bears nothing, believes nothing, hopes nothing, endures nothing. Cynicism presumes more than it can ever know while hope rests in the Lord’s perfect knowledge, as we read in Psalm 131.

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;

my eyes are not raised too high;

I do not occupy myself with things

too great and too marvelous for me. 

But I have calmed and quieted my soul,

like a weaned child with its mother;

like a weaned child is my soul within me. 

O Israel, hope in the Lord

from this time forth and forevermore. 

Love is not arrogant. Love does not know the hearts and minds, the innermost thoughts, of others. Love knows the heart is a mystery and so hopes that, even in a presbytery, common cause can be made with one’s brothers. Cynicism is arrogant: it knows the future and thus the futility of reaching out to those who have repeatedly proven their recalcitrance. Love knows the limits of its knowledge, and so hopes that presbyterians can work together.

Hope is always eschatological because it believes that the Christian love which will be manifest at the end may be realized now.

Such hope has been manifested in the OPC’s Presbytery of the Dakotas. At our September meeting, we erected two special committees. One is working to provide counsel to the Churches as to how to survive and prosper in the legal environments of the five states within our Regional Church after the U.S. Supreme Court’s Obergefell decision. This has been a marvelous opportunity to bear each other’s burdens and receive counsel made more wise by collaboration. The other committee is proposing a revised set of bylaws which, Lord willing, will help institute a more presbyterian practice in a Regional Church still struggling with independency, fundamentalism, and congregationalism, even nearly 80 years after our denomination’s founding.

In light of our presbytery’s many failings, especially in its failure to discharge commonplace presbyterian duties to the Churches under its supervision, I feel compelled to take this opportunity to apologize on behalf of my brothers who use the PCA as whipping boy and bête noir. Rather than seek to reform ourselves according to Biblical principle, we congratulate ourselves for not being as bad as a PCA in which we imagine liturgical aberration and theological innovation more prevalent than the Trinity Hymnal. We have been censorious and uncharitable, and for this I offer my most sincere apologies.

With that apology I offer another hope, perhaps the most audacious hope which presbyterian love can hold. I hope your Churches will regard each other as sisters, and your elders look to elders in other Churches as brothers. I hope we will soon see a new day of interdenominational cooperation, but first must come intra-denominational charity, coordination, and cooperation. Brothers, hold regular pulpit exchanges and joint worship services. Encourage the deacons of the various Churches to cooperate in shared mercy ministries. On behalf of my own session, I issue a standing invitation for a pulpit exchange to all your sessions, as a first step to the inevitable: a joining of the OPC and PCA. Furthermore, I invite you to send your young people to our summer Bible camp, a very successful ecumenical venture between our Presbytery of the Dakotas and the PCA’s Siouxlands Presbytery within our overlapping jurisdictions in the Black Hills of South Dakota.

Love hopes all things, but love need not be naïve. Things changed for us reactionary social conservatives last summer, and you surely are wondering when a presidential administration (or its philosophically similar successor) which sued a Lutheran school over its employment practices will begin using the full force of the law to make things uncomfortable for Churches without “evolved” views on human sexuality. Our congregations, like most of yours, are small. Most of ours, as do most of yours, get by on the thinnest of financial margins. What congregations in our Regional Churches could survive a lawsuit over a refusal to marry a same- sex couple? A former member of your presbytery, Phil Strong, who is now in my presbytery, remarked to me last summer that “doing Church” the way the PCA and OPC have for years now is a luxury we may no longer be able to afford. We need to bear one another’s burdens: we must either fight together, or hang separately.

Love hopes all things. It even hopes presbyterians will learn to love one another in word and deed before the last day, when hope will pass away, along with faith, and love will abide forever.

How to read Scripture in worship

Most men arrive at seminary with little to no training in public speaking, and for the most part the seminaries which confessional presbyterian preachers attend offer little to no training in the basic mechanisms of public speaking. (Frankly, I find this shocking, and so should you. I'm even more shocked by indifference to this sad state of affairs.)

As a lapsed Lutheran (currently Roman Catholic), Russell Saltzman probably hasn't visited many confessional presbyterian seminaries, but he does all their students and alumni a service with "Everything I Know About Being a Lector I Learned in Third Grade," over at the First Things website. He writes for Roman Catholic lectors, but presbyterian pastors (or rather, their congregations), would profit greatly from a careful study and implementation of his advice.

(In other First Things-related news, yesterday I finished reading the January 2016 issue before the February issue was delivered, thereby catching me up to the present moment. This has never happened before.)

Christmastide is beer

It being the 12th day of Christmas already, I had better get to the winter warmers I've newly discovered and enjoyed this yuletide season. Interestingly, none have a specifically Christmas theme, perhaps becaues all lean toward hoppy and pale rather than the stoutness most frequently associated with a belly like a bowlful of jelly.

Hitachino Nest Celebration Ale is a lovely white ale, very hop-forward, and the first from a Japanese brewer over which I've actually gotten excited.

Brrr, from Widmer Brothers, is a hoppy red ale. The hops and malts nicely balance each other; the mellowness I associate with reds gives it a nice finish.

Elysian Brewing Company's BiFrost is smooth, slightly sweet, and with just a hint of hop bitterness. Intriguing.

Finally, it turns out Left Hand's Polestar Pilsner isn't a seasonal. I'm glad to learn it's available year-round, but I'm including it here because I have just encountered it during my annual Christmastide ale exploration. It's got the crispness and hoppy finish for which I love pilsners. This may become my go-to session beer.

The end of Christmastide means the beginning of the long, miserable winter slog. Perhaps these winter warmers will help you get through the dark eternity which is February.