Tuesday Afternoon Thoughts: On Drinking

"Knowledge puffs up; love builds up." - Paul

Here's what I have to say on the topic of alcohol. I'm just going to put this out there on the interwebs, where it will be just one more voice in a cacophony of opinions, but it's Tuesday, so why not?

Alcohol is not just a chemical; it is a culture. That is the crux of my position.

A Lesson from History
In Paul's letter to the Corinthians, he addressed the question of meat sacrificed to idols. Commentators speculate that the apparent division in the church was as much along economic lines as anything. The wealthy had one experience of eating meat sacrificed to idols; the poor had a different experience.

The Wealthy

Source: Corinth Computer Project

In the city of Corinth, it seemed like every other building was a temple or shrine to an idol. For the wealthy members of the city, gathering at these temples for dinners to meet and greet one another was a regular occurrence. The consumption of meat sacrificed to idols was a normal part of the meal, with no religious significance, other than the cult of status-seeking.

The Poor
While the wealthy frequently gathered for dinners and parties and ate and drank together, the poor tended to join in only for the big events--the religious festivals. On the rare occasions that the poor ate meat at all, it was usually part of an event steeped in pagan worship and ritual sacrifice.

The Disconnect
The Corinthians evidently had some disagreement about whether it was acceptable to eat meat sacrificed to idols. The letter that the Jerusalem council drafted to the Gentile churches (Acts 15) specifically forbid the consumption of idol meat, but Paul felt the need to address the issue again. Paul's words to the wealthy were harsh. He attacked their so-called knowledge that permitted them "freedom" on this issue  and said that it, in fact, would lead to the destruction of the weaker brothers and sisters. Christ had given his very life for them, and they couldn't give up even a small thing like meat sacrificed to idols.

But maybe it wasn't about the meat for them. Maybe it was about the lifestyle. The eating and drinking, the hobnobbing with the other important citizens of Corinth, the dinners, the opulent lifestyle. To go to the house of a wealthy citizen of Corinth and reject the food--well, that would be an unforgivable offense. Suddenly all their dreams of wealth and prestige would be gone.

Photo Credit: Jefferson Hitchens

The Table
But the invitation to the Lord's Table isn't an invitation to wealth and prestige. It's an invitation to a place where the hierarchy of status is discarded, where slaves and landowners sit down side by side, where men and women are sons and daughters of Christ together, where Jews and Gentiles are all participants in the same meal. What the Corinthian Christians might not have expected was the exclusivity of this table--that when they sat down to this table, it might negate their chance to sit at any other table in the city.

So what's this have to do with alcohol?
Just like the meat sacrificed to idols wasn't just a food but a lifestyle, I think the same is true of alcohol in our culture today. What images come to mind when you think of drinking?

A guy wearing a cut-off t-shirt that doesn't quite cover his beer belly, sitting in a recliner watching NASCAR?

An upscale dinner at a trendy restaurant with a five-page wine list?

A pulsing club with a wall of top shelf liquors ready to be poured into unique and creative concoctions?

A family gathering where the food, wine, and conversation are flowing freely?

What's your image?

A gathering with friends at the end of a long week with some good burgers and home-brewed hard cider?

A homeless woman living on the street in a drunken, cloudy haze with a flask in one hand and her other hand holding a sign asking for money?

These are pretty diverse images. When we talk in our churches today about alcohol consumption, just like Paul, we have to know our context. And furthermore, we need to hear the real issues that concern the people at our table.

Because here's the thing. If we preach against a life of excess--overeating, overspending, excessive alcohol consumption--to a community where alcohol is the only escape from a life of inescapable poverty, we're not preaching the Gospel of abundance; we're just heaping guilt on those often paralyzed by guilt for their failure.

If we preach against pluralism and moral relativism--including a lax stance on drinking--to a congregation of legalists whose circle of the "saved" seems to be ever diminishing, then we're not preaching the Gospel of love and forgiveness of joy in God's good gifts; we're just patting ourselves on the back for our failure to minister to the needs of those we don't understand.

If we preach against slovenly drunkenness to a community of professionals where image is everything and it's just as much a faux pas to be seen drunk as it is to be seen without a classy beverage in hand, then we're not preaching the Gospel of authenticity and vulnerability; we're teaching that this is not a safe place to be real.

If we preach against the club scene and the drinking and sex that come with it to a congregation of young parents who are drinking their wine at home every night as a way to unwind from the craziness of the day, then we're not preaching the Gospel of dependence on God for peace and wholeness; we're creating a wider gap between the already wide gap of those "out there" living "that life" and us "in here" living "this life," which we're stuck with whether we like it or not.

Love Excluding All Else (Not Sobriety Excluding All Else)
Who is eating beside us at the table? What message of hope does the life-changing, joy-filled good news of the Gospel have for them?

Alcohol is not just a chemical; it's a lifestyle. And the Gospel calls us all out of our lifestyles of self-sufficiency, self-focus, and self-gratification and into lifestyles of love, humility, and submission to the community gathered at the table, where God's love and forgiveness flow freely.

We must be careful that our identity is not defined by what we're against, but by what we're for. I, for one, am proud to be part of a tradition where what we're for is love of God and love of neighbor.

I hope that the love we preach isn't overshadowed by a line in the sand over an issue that is nuanced and complex. When it came to meat sacrificed to idols, even the letter from the counsel in Jerusalem wasn't enough to settle the question once and for all. And when it comes to the issue of alcohol today, I would hate for us to be any less willing to have another conversation than Paul was with the Corinthian Christians.

Who will be seated next to you at the table?

Little Lambs

"Feed my lambs." - Jesus (to Peter)

Today is Amos's first full day of daycare. I am very excited about this new development in our lives, but I am also anxious. As I was thinking about what I hope of Amos's teacher, I realized that maybe there are some correlations between that and what God wants for me as a pastor.

1. Patience. Anyone who spends all day every day working with one and two-year-olds probably has a lot of patience. But I'm afraid that Amos's teacher will get impatient sometimes with him--with ways that he is behind developmentally, routines and customs that all the other kids know that he hasn't learned yet, his adjustment to different expectations of him. I know he'll learn, but in the meantime, I hope that his teacher is really patient with him and gives him time to adjust.

I came across a thought-provoking blog the other day here. The author said, in short, that too often the people we want in churches are the ones who have been "fixed up" somewhere else and are sent to us "pre-packaged." As a pastor, do I have the same patience with new Christians as I hope Amos's teacher does of new students? What if they are developmentally delayed--don't speak "Christian-ese," lose their temper easily, struggle with the most simple Christian tasks like finding a book of the Bible? What if they don't know the customs, like being quiet during prayer or answering questions with the appropriate combination of openness and reservation? What if they don't live up to my expectations of them? Will I be patient? Will I give them time to learn and adjust? Or will I get angry and frustrated?

2. Listening. Sometimes the straw thing on Amos's water bottle comes out of its little connector hole. I'm not sure why it's designed like that (maybe for cleaning?), but it upsets him greatly whenever it happens. Will his teacher know that when he holds his water bottle full of water up to her and makes upset noises that he needs her to fix it? I hope that she takes the time to listen to his concern and figure out what's wrong, so she can help him. I'm afraid she'll just think he's making some kind of ridiculous request for more water when he clearly already has some.

One of my favorite sayings is, "The issue is never the issue." When someone comes to me upset about something, it may be that what I said really isn't the issue. There may be something much deeper going on. I think that as a pastor, I am called to listen beyond their words and hear their concerns, their past experiences, their grief, their hurts. I hope that I can listen to people who, even though they can talk, struggle just as much as Amos does to communicate their true needs.

3. Seeing. Even though Amos doesn't talk, I know him well enough to understand his feelings most of the time. Sometimes he gets in a mood that we call the "Amos tornado." He just goes through the house randomly destroying things--taking things out of the trash, throwing things on the floor, opening drawers and cabinets, clearing off tables. Usually, he's just hungry. If I say, "Amos, do you want to eat supper now?" he stops immediately and comes to his chair to sit down and eat. But it's not at all obvious to anyone who doesn't know him that he's clearing off end tables because he's hungry.

As a pastor, I know I can't pick up on every single nonverbal cue of every congregant. However, I want to know my people well enough to perceive when someone is having a bad day, or is depressed, lonely, upset, angry, or whatever. I want to take the time to get to know people, and I want to continue to take the time to see them as they are.

4. Protecting. It's okay for Amos to learn about social interaction through conflict. However, I expect Amos's teacher to not let a stranger leave school with him. I expect her to not place him in situations that are beyond his ability to navigate safely. I also hope that she helps guide him through conflict, teaching him skills for interacting with his peers.

As a pastor, I know I can't protect the people in my congregation from the difficulties that life throws at them. However, there are things I can protect them from. I don't need to pass along every negative comment that I hear. I can preach in a way that keeps the focus on God and the Scriptures; they don't need to hear every thought I have as I prepare my sermons. If I have a negative experience with the church leadership above me, I don't need to pass that on to my congregation. I also need to pray fervently over my congregation, to stand alongside them as they battle all the difficulties that come their way.

5. Feeding. I do mean this literally. I hope that Amos gets enough to eat at daycare and that it's somewhat healthy. But I also mean it metaphorically. I hope that he gets lots of new experiences. That he's learning new songs, meeting new people, learning new words. He came home from his first afternoon already signing "more." I would never take him to a daycare that felt like a holding cell. The scenes of the daycare in the movie The Pursuit of Happyness have haunted me for years--graffiti on the doors, kids zoned out in front of the tv, kids fighting. I hope that Amos's time at daycare pours life into him, rather than sucking it out of him. I hope that his teacher works to feed him.

As a pastor, I want the time that people spend at church on Sunday morning to be more than carrying out a lifelong sentence to spend four thousand hours at church. I want to make the effort to put time into what I do, so that I can pour life into my congregation, rather than sucking it out of them. I know that God is working, and that it's not all about my effort or what I do, but I still want to use everything I have to feed my congregation the Word of God, so that their time at church adds to their life, teaches them something new, helps them grow, expands their understanding of the world. Again, I can't do this on my own, but I also can't do it without working at it.

6. Loving. I love Amos so much. It's hard for me to leave him in a place where people don't love him like I do. But I expect that his teacher does come to love her kids, to care for them, to not just do her job out of obligation.

It stops me in my tracks to think about how much I love Amos and how hard it is to entrust him to someone else. God loves his children the same way. Of course, God doesn't leave us completely in the hands of other people, but it makes me realize how deeply I am called to love and care for my congregation. I need to have the same expectations of myself that I do of Amos's teacher: to look past Amos's faults and difficulties and to see a wonderful, sweet little boy that desperately wants to be loved. And so I am called also to look past the faults and difficulties of the people in my congregation and see the beautiful children of God who desperately want to be loved.

Who wouldn't love this kid?

I pray that God will continually increase my ability to love and care for his children just as much as I want Amos to be loved and cared for even when he's not with me. And I pray also that God will help me to not spend the entire time that Amos is at daycare worrying about him!