‘Aunt Susan’ makes us more accepting

A hefty advance proof of American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us arrived yesterday. Professors Robert D. Putnam of Harvard and David E. Campbell of Notre Dame have compiled and interpreted significant new research on the impact of religion on American life.

The book from Simon & Schuster is scheduled for release in October. I’ll need much more time to work through it before offering a review. But, in my spot reading, one matter caught my attention quickly.

The writers conclude that most Americans are acquainted with and accepting of persons of faith backgrounds other than their own. This may come as a surprise to other readers as it did to me.

The ability to combine devotion and diversity, they say, can be attributed to the “Aunt Susan Principle.”

Their explanation is that most every American has a relative — perhaps an Aunt Susan — who is highly regarded for her goodness and faithfulness, even though she is of a different faith. Debating doctrinal differences with strangers is different from pouring condemnation on a beloved relative it seems.

Putnam and Campbell give additional reasons for inter-religious acceptance than their hypothetical relative. But that alone is worth considering.

However, my own upbringing provided exposure to very little religious diversity. Most relatives were either active Baptists or Methodists or guilt-ridden for their unfaithful church attendance.

However, there was unconventional Uncle Delmas who found delight in being the only confessed pagan in the family tree. Yet we even found him to quite tolerable and often enjoyable.

So these writers seem to be on to something. That is, personal relationships can create space for better acceptance of those with religious beliefs and practices different from our own.

It is easy to speak in generalities about religious groups that do not align with one’s own understanding of faith. But it is another to dismiss a beloved relative or close friend as a heretic.

The God who runs down the driveway

Strolling through the River Gallery Sculpture Garden in the Bluff View Arts District in Chattanooga has become a common weekend activity for me. It is both naturally refreshing with the lush plant life and views of the Tennessee River as well as artistically pleasing.

The sculptures are widely varied with most open to broad interpretation. My favorite, however, is one of the more clearly identified sculptures: "The Prodigal Son" by Leonard Baskin, who also lent his talents to the FDR Memorial in Washington, D.C.

His bronze interpretation of Jesus' famed parable puts the wayward son and the welcoming father in a warm face-to-face embrace. Their garments have been interwoven to express a strong bond that cannot be broken by even disobedience and distance.

The remarkable story recorded in Luke 15:11f portrays God in a way not usually associated with a deity. This is not some distant god who must be awaken or appeased, but One eager to run down the driveway to offer forgiveness ahead of the confession.

As Jesus put it: "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him (Luke 15:20)."

A visual reminder of that kind of unconditional love and unending grace is worth going back to see again and again.

Will students sacrifice this time around?

Religion News Service is reporting that a meeting of college students is set for Oct. 8-11 at Atlanta's Morehouse College to relaunch an effort that helped bring about significant social change long ago. The U.S. Student Christian Movement, that has not be active for more than four decades, played a major role in the civil rights and anti-war efforts of another student generation.

Some students think it's time for their generation to make a greater impact on society as well. It will be interesting to watch how this effort progresses.

The report drew my attention back to an interview I published in the January 2009 issue of Baptists Today. The Rev. Dr. Albert Paul Brinson was one of the Morehouse students who — along with others attending Atlanta University Center schools — carried out sit-ins to challenge racial discrimination in public places.

Dr. Brinson said the students who initiated the acts of civil disobedience in 1960 were part of a highly-organized effort guided by the late Dr. Benjamin Mays, president of Morehouse. The students spent numerous hours in secret, Dr. Brinson said, learning well-developed strategies and acquiring the emotional stability needed to endure the hateful responses.

They did so for three reasons, he told me:

"All of us — who came along in my period and made the sacrifice — were out there for three reasons. We, first of all, believed we had a mandate from Jesus Christ that we are all God’s children and we should love one another. The second thing was the United States Constitution. It guaranteed that all persons are created equal. The third thing was to dare to believe and to commit ourselves to carrying out those kind of things. It was no biggie! That was just what you lived."

One can only hope and pray that this current and any future generation of students seeking to bring about needed social change will be willing and able to make such strong commitments to those three principles as well. It is one thing to want to make a difference in the world; it is another to make real personal sacrifices in order to do so.

[Photo by John Pierce: Albert Paul Brinson at his home in College Park, Ga.]

You were probably raised too Baptist, IF…

1. You thought “peacethatpassesunderstanding” was one word.

2. You missed more episodes of “Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color” than you saw because of Sunday night services.

3. You thought the tablets Moses brought down from the mountain were written in the King’s English and primarily opposed dancing, drinking, shooting pool and playing games with “face cards.”

4. You never asked your parents, “Are we going to church this Sunday?” You just knew.

5. Every technological advancement got tagged as the “Mark of the Beast.”

6. Saturday nights involved shoe polish and Sunday school lessons.

7. Gluttony seemed to vanish from the list of sins while most other vices were amplified.

8. You got in trouble as a youth for adding the phrase “…between the sheets” to hymn titles and giggling about it during a boring sermon.

9. You’ve sung all the verses to “Just As I Am” more than once during a single, protracted invitation time.

10. You feel both punished by and thankful for growing up in such a way — and enjoy thinking and laughing about it.

Bishop or Baptist? Pick one

The Boston Globe has an interesting story about how more Baptist ministers are taking on the title of bishop now. The trend is more prominent in African-American congregations.

Various reasons were given including competition from Charismatic church leaders with that title and the greater sense of responsibility for mentoring younger ministers. Some Baptist leaders, the article stated, embrace "apostolic succession" — belief in a direct line of spiritual authority from the Disciples of Jesus to current chosen church leadership.

(Or as I defined Roman Catholic apostolic succession on a seminary exam in 1979: It is the belief that "Peter progressively passed the papal promise of power to the prominent Polish Pope.")

The term "Baptist bishop," in my experience, has been used negatively to refer to some denominational leader who typically seeks more authority than he (always he) should get by virtue of his position.

Hierarchal leadership structures — especially ones that create wide gaps between clergy and laity in church policies and practice as well as biblical interpretation — have been widely rejected by Baptists.

It will be interesting to see if this new trend spreads among numerous Baptist groups or remains isolated with a few Baptist preachers here and there carrying staffs and wearing new rings.

At the least, this trend might add to the discussion of pastoral authority — something with which many Baptists have struggled.

Too often Baptist congregational leadership is reflected in the extremes of either a heavy-handed, authoritarian pastor who builds the congregation according to his wishes and around his personality, or a pastor whose leadership, despite significant training and experience, finds resistance at every little turn.

In dealing with most issues, the best answer to a good question is usually found between the extremes. However, finding a balance between "Baptist" and "Bishop" might be quite a trick.

Dinosaur lips and logical deduction

“I need a little petroleum,” I said when glancing down at my fuel gauge and veering off the I-75 exit at Adairsville, Ga., last Saturday.

“Is that what gas is made from?” asked my 12-year-old daughter and sole passenger.

My limited knowledge of the oil business (gleaned from watching every episode of "Dallas" years ago) was not enough to give a very scientific answer. But I said something about how petroleum is refined into the gasoline we use in our cars as well as other products.

“And petroleum comes from dead dinosaurs,” she added — a sign that she had paid attention to a class discussion on fossil fuels and that theocratic nutcases had not harmed the science curriculum used by her school.

Then she asked me if petroleum jelly comes from the same source as well. I could only assume so.



Upon further reflection, she concluded: “So I’m putting dead dinosaurs on my lips.”

Teaching children (and some adults who missed the opportunity earlier) to use logical deduction is so important. But it can lead to some interesting mental pictures as well as to truth.

What is a pastor?

While getting less media attention in recent days than Lebron James and Mel Gibson, confusion over the pastoral roles of Robert Schuller and his daughter have kept the aging television preacher in the news.

Sheila Schuller Coleman, who serves as senior pastor has sought to squelch rumors that her 83-year-old father is stepping out of the pulpit and spotlight at the Crystal Cathedral in Southern California.

The rumor was widely reported through the Associated Press and other news outlet after Coleman told the church that her position of leadership had been confirmed by the Reformed Church in America. The LA Times corrected the story here.

I really don’t care which Schuller does what in the big glass church. But I could not let one of the Rev. Coleman’s comments in the story pass without notice.

Expressing concern about the rumor and assuring viewers that her father still plans to occupy the pulpit, she said: “It’s troubling because we have a lot of viewers all over the world thinking: ‘My pastor's leaving.’”

I understand how someone might say: “My favorite television preacher is leaving” or “I will miss the weekly encouragement from Dr. Schuller.” But can someone you've never met and whose only contact is via TV be your pastor?

The many pastors I know would be surprised to learn that their calling and responsibilities can be achieved from behind the pulpit only — as important as the task of preaching might be. Hospital visits, emergency calls in the night, counseling, funerals, administrative work, committees, etc. — I guess they just do those things for fun.