A Great Opportunity to Serve

The good people of Lewis County in Eastern Kentucky have a rich history and cultural heritage, but economic realities being what they are, many of them struggle constantly to maintain the necessities of life. It’s an area in which the juxtaposition of the splendor of natural beauty and the darkness of deep poverty cannot but overwhelm you with a sense of spiritual dissonance. A former major source of assistance to the area, once run by the Glenmary Home Missioners, has had to close, leaving a void that is simply not sustainable if this community is to not only survive, but flourish and thrive as is the calling of every human person.

Into this void has stepped Sarah George, founder of the Emmaus Farm. Still in the process of organizing, Sarah describes the Emmaus Farm’s mission:

The Emmaus Farm is a nonprofit organization dedicated to service in the community of rural Lewis County, Kentucky. The Farm Managers, our volunteer staff, will facilitate a week of service to Lewis County, Appalachian cultural immersion, and spiritual retreat, for high school and college volunteers. At the Emmaus Farm our week-long volunteers and Farm Managers will live by the charisms of simplicity, community, prayer, and service, and the Farm Managers will live by the additional charisms of voluntary poverty and hospitality during their year of service.

Dedicated to the Gospel message of Jesus Christ, and inspired by Catholic Social Teaching, we will serve the rural poor, the weak, the elderly, and the marginalized. Our mission is to serve Christ in his many forms, to serve where the need exists, and to allow others the opportunity to see and fulfill the need for service, as well as to see the spiritual richness of the people of Lewis County.

Serving as the first Chairman of the Board of Directors is Dr. Christopher Anadale, now of Mount St. Mary’s University, who was my professor of Ethics and Metaphysics at Conception Seminary College back in the day.

In this video, Sarah introduces you to the plan and vision of the Emmaus Farm and shares how you might get in on the ground level and help with this vital work.



Old Stuff: Fake Wedding Sermon on Ephesians 5

Or, more accurately, a real sermon for a fake wedding. This sermon was composed as an assignment for a grad school course in the Sacrament of Marriage, earlier in 2016.


What’s everybody smiling about? Right about now, you’re thinking, “Preacher, that’s the dumbest thing you’ve asked in this sermon yet.” We’re smiling because we’re thrilled to be here with Tim and Genae, joyful to witness the culmination of their relationship and privileged to walk with them as they begin this new, exciting, and truly sacred stage of their lives together. We’re smiling, we’re crying, we’re shaking off goosebumps because we have an intuition, a hint, that we’re getting a glimpse into something that transcends the ordinary, something bigger than ourselves or any two people, something that tells us that, in a real yet still mysterious way, this is what it’s all about.

From Romeo and Juliet down to Sam and Diane or Jim and Pam, the love story has a power to it, something about it that compels us to watch, to root for a couple we don’t really know, even a fictitious one. Even if we’re not given to spend our time with paperback romance novels, there’s something about romantic love which is both deeply private and intimate between the lovers and yet reaches outside itself and calls the rest of us along for the journey. How much more so when it is our own dear friends, our own family, our own brother or sister, our own son or daughter? Tim and Genae, this is your day, your holy moment, and yet all of us are here with this buzzing suspicion that we all have a stake in this.

And in your hearts, you may well feel this, too: the world seems to stop and focus on you, as if to say this is a great day not only for you and for your families about to be joined and for your friends and for this church, but for all humankind and for the very earth and sun and moon and stars.

“This is a great mystery.” That’s what our scripture reading said, and we feel it. We call this moment “magical” as we bumble through our language trying to find a way to put this mystery into words, and that’s fine, but a better word than even that is “sacramental.”

Yes, we’re gathered to support Tim and Genae as they celebrate together one of the great sacraments of our Christian faith. And what is a sacrament, but a symbol, a ritually acted-out sign that is so pregnant with divine potential that it actually makes present what it signifies? As you exchange your consent in a moment and as we witness, be aware that you are God’s designated co-workers, cooperating with the God of Love who is Love to bring something new and wonderful into being. This is a moment of profound grace, grace pouring forth directly from the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ through this moment and into your lives, a grace that tells us that God looks on in favor on what we’re doing today. This grace tells us that the very God who spoke this universe into being from nothingness out of the sheer abundance of his love, the God whose Word became flesh and dwelt among us as our Redeemer, this same God is speaking still, and today, he is speaking your names.

“This is a great mystery,” indeed. “A man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife and the two shall become one flesh.” These are the words of the Genesis account of creation, words that confirm through faith what we already know in our hearts, by our very nature as human beings. St. John Paul spoke of a spousal or nuptial meaning of the body. In order to truly flourish, we can’t remain trapped in our own skin, isolated little islands in an ocean of strangers, but we must reach beyond ourselves in love, uniting with others and together creating newness around us, in a way fitting with whatever our vocation may be. Yes, we find love stories so compelling because in our inmost beings we are made for them. We are all characters in the great love story between God and humanity. All of creation is a love story, written by Love, written with Love. Love alone satisfies, love alone is worth dying for–or, even more powerfully, living for–, love alone is real.

“This is a great mystery,” the inspired writer says and then goes on: “I speak in reference to Christ and the Church.” In their Christian marriage, enlivened and empowered by the grace of this sacrament, Tim and Genae stand before us and before the world as living symbols of Christ and the Church, of their unbreakable and fruitful covenant union. What a gift! What an honor! What a tremendous thing you have been called to this day!

In Christ, the ultimate boundary, the separation of God and creation, is shown to be fluid. The great chasm is crossed, the walls of Jericho fall down, and in one divine person, a marriage is made between God and humanity. In the one-flesh union between the divine and the human that is Jesus Christ, we find our salvation, and are elevated beyond the limits of a fallen and often painful existence into new life, a life which does not rip us from our bodies but brings healing and wholeness to our bodies, to our whole selves.

This healing and wholeness in Christ is ours because, in his human nature, Christ is not alone but the first of many brothers and sisters, called into a covenant of adoption by his Father and wedded to him as his people, his Church. In this one-flesh union between Christ and his Church–Christ and his people, Christ and us–is the source of all faith, all hope, all love.

Tim and Genae, today you become living, breathing, walking signs of that great union, of that great love. Today you commit to a life of total self-gift to one another, subordinating your own wills to the will of the other. With open hearts and minds, with the support of this community gathered here, and by the grace of this sacrament, you will live that union well. You’ll live it well and it will blossom. We pray not only for you but for the children we ask our God to bless you with, children you’ll love in ways you never dreamed possible, children who will be your legacy and the harbingers of your love, who will ensure that the great mystery of your unbreakable love will echo through the ages, and the world will never be the same.

There’s more to the story than that, of course. We know that there are great challenges in marriage, just as there are in anything worth doing. We know families often fall short of their sacred calling. When those darker moments threaten, don’t let them have the last word. Look back to this moment, to the divine source of grace who brought you here, and to us gathered in support of you, and know that God’s grace is inexhaustible. Christ’s union with his family can never be broken, and will remain a source to empower your own union and strengthen your own family as long as you both shall live.

New Insight into the Apostles


In a new interview with Cassandra Farrin on the Westar Institute blog, Heidi Wendt discusses her forthcoming book At the Temple Gates. I for one–not that anyone asked–am intrigued. Wendt suggests a a new category, that of freelance religious expert, which cuts across the diverse and novel religious traditions and practices of the Roman Empire, and into which the earliest Christian missionary apostles, like Paul, may be placed. I look forward to exploring this in more depth when the book is released, but what I find in the interview has got me thinking–which is where that squeaking noise and smoke is coming from.

Says Wendt:

(M)any of our ancient sources for these religious experts depict them going door-to-door, purveying novel, often exotic religious skills and practices: special initiations, purifications, methods of divination, and the like. That being said, modern missionaries often, although not always, act on behalf an established religious entity, for example, a particular church or denomination. My use of the language “freelance” is intended to convey that many of the religious actors I include in my study were unaffiliated with any existing religious institution or well-defined tradition; rather, some sources depict them trying desperately to persuade would-be clients of their need for proprietary rites and other benefits that would not have been apparent prior to these interactions. While there are reasons to be skeptical of elements of these accounts—for instance, the Roman satirist Juvenal describes a litany of these figures preying on the “superstitions” of women while their husbands are out—sources such as the Pauline Epistles confirm that households were, in fact, a prominent venue for self-authorized specialists of many varieties.

This language caught my eye both because of its similarity to the intentionally non-institutional organization and rejection of a sponsoring-church model of the faith community I grew up with–who, by the way, I’m having the great joy of worshiping with again all summer after nearly 20 years–and because, albeit only for a few more weeks, I once again find myself, if not an expert, rather freelance, a minister without any defined ministees. (Full disclosure as regards my deep and abiding dorkdom: While reading this interview, I had “They Call Me the Wanderer” playing over and over in my head, only the word “wanderer” was replaced with “gyrovague.” Remind me to send that one in to Weird Al.)

Later she continues:

I imagine that a major point of interest the book raises will be the interactivity between early “Christian” experts and non-Christian contemporaries who also fit my definition of freelance expertise: magi, astrologers, diviners, initiators, and so forth, many of whom worked within particular ethnic or geographic idioms (Persian, Chaldean, Egyptian, Armenian, Greek, Judean, and so forth). Whereas there is a tendency among lay audiences and scholars alike to imagine Judaism and Christianity as somewhat exceptional in their ancient context, imagining some Judeans and Christians as freelance experts working within a broader class of religious activity that was not specific to either allows us to appreciate both the messiness of these categories, such as they existed in the first and second centuries, and also how much cross-pollination occurred among specialists of all varieties who competed for followers in part through the exchange or cooptation of ideas, discourses, techniques, and practices. This jack-of-all-trades ambition that many freelance experts pursued—to distinguish themselves from rivals while also satisfying in their own persons any number of sought-after religious benefits—helps to make sense of how heterogeneous, creative, and also mutually influential their respective religious programs might be.

Regarding the book’s importance for Christian audiences in particular, I would begin by saying that it offers a deep historicization of Christian origins that renders Paul, Justin, Irenaeus, and other “Christian” figures all the more intelligible in their Greco-Roman context. My experiences both in the classroom and, more recently, as a participant in Westar meetings have indicated that such a picture not only fascinates contemporary Christians, but also, for its indeterminacy, offers a welcome counter-narrative to overly rigid or dogmatic presentations of this history. A better appreciation of these religious actors in their historical context—really, a particular setting of religious activity within that context—might also result in an improved understanding of and new interpretive possibilities for problematic or discomfiting features of New Testament and other early Christian literature. Viewing Paul as a freelance expert among many such experts in Judean and other forms of religion reorients our picture of his activities, and also some of the content of his letters. His at times critical statements about Israel, the law, and notable Judean practices such as circumcision, for example, ring differently if we imagine Paul staking out positions vis-à-vis rival experts in Judean religion rather than re-negotiating a complicated relationship to Judaism. The same logic can be extended to second century figures such as Justin, who writes more forcefully against Judeans (or Judean experts) as he forges a concept of “Christian” religion that is distinct from Judea, and on the heels of the Bar Kokhba Revolt. As I argued in the paper I presented last fall, placing the composition of gospel literature in this general context—which will be the topic of my next book (see below for more)—may have similar consequences for the negative images of Jews/Judeans that occur in these writings.

Read the full interview here, and look for an August 18th release of At the Temple Gates..



Frying Chicken Little



To my mind, Steven Pinker’s The Better Angels of Our Nature is easily among the most important books written in the last 100 years. Concern that society is collapsing and a nostalgic longing for a return to past greatness is hardly new. Eusebius quotes St. Polycarp of Smyrna as moaning, in the second century AD: ” O good God, unto what times hast thou spared me?”

Pinker‘s magnum opus, Better Angels, argues convincingly that the present day is the absolute best time to be alive by almost every meaningful metric. While a more naive age of progressives tended to act as though social progress was inevitable and infallible–both to be rejected–to deny that progress is real and to contend that there was some past age of greatness is to embrace an illusion. That illusion can be quite dangerous as when certain democratic republics which shall remain nameless flirt openly with handing executive power over to a demagogue who openly aspires to tyranny, all in the name of making themselves great again.

The case presented by Pinker is compelling enough that, stripped of its mythology, I’m half-tempted to identify as a postmillennialist. This short conversation between Pinker and the Berggruen Institute is well worth checking out. Here’s a brief excerpt:


“I look into why the rate of violence has dropped, and the moral question -– what values ought we teach people to live by? Certainly, I agree with the principles, but it may be a bit unrealistic to think that every person on this Earth abides by a value such as that every life is equally sacrosanct. Looking back to explain to what we can attribute our increasingly humane development, part of it is the utilitarian calculation –- if there is incentive, regardless of morals, to stop fighting, then so be it.

“But what we are witnessing is more than that. A shift in the summum bonum, or the highest good, towards loose humanism, where life is better than death, education better than ignorance, health better than sickness, is what I believe we are seeing currently.”


Unity, Identity, and Idolatry

In the religious tradition in which I was raised, that of the churches of Christ, the dirtiest of all dirty words had way more than four letters. It was the dreaded d-word, “denomination.” This unease with denominationalism was rooted not in a spirit of cantankerous contrariness–you can’t blame that community for my own character flaws–but out of a noble conviction that Christian identity, unqualified by any denominational loyalty, should be the sole identifier of the disciple of Jesus Christ. From this perspective denominational labels and identities served to foster division in (or, more radically, from) the Body of Christ.

Whether it’s fair to say that this laudable commitment to being just Christians, rather than this or that type of Christians, made a lasting impact on me, it’s certainly something I’ve come to re-appreciate over the last several years. While I don’t quite share the same conscientious opposition to recognizing denominational identity that was the hallmark of my tradition, I’ve long since thought that the only noun a Christian ought to own is “Christian.” Denominational labels are at most adjectives. Confusing the adjective for a noun goes a long way toward sowing disunity among Christians.

I recently came across this short clip of Michael Kinnamon, a Disciple of Christ who then served as General Secretary of the National Council of Churches, who made this same point quite vividly. He goes so far as to say–hyperbolically–that using denominational labels is idolatrous. Obviously, it’s not my contention that if one slips into common parlance and speaks of herself as a Roman Catholic, a Baptist, or a Mormon, she’s instantly the enemy of Christian unity. Still–not, mind you, that anyone asked me–I think it would be better to mentally drop the article and start thinking of our denominational labels only as adjectives: not a Methodist or a Lutheran or an Anglican, but as Methodist, or a Lutheran Christian, or a Christian who happens to be Anglican.

Yeah. I blog now.


Welcome to my brand spanking new weblog, “Please Disregard the Following,” wherein I’ll share thoughts on various and sundry things exactly once every so often, or your money back.

The last time I attempted to launch a blog was over six years ago. It was an astoundingly successful venture that thrived for over an entire week and almost made me a household name in my own house.

If you’re so inclined, you’re welcome to follow this blog on that Facebook that all the kids are using these days.