Why the Church Shouldn't Hashtag

July 15, 2014

Dear St. Paul’s Family,

Last Friday night, I had a memorable text message exchange with Grace, whom I remind you just turned thirteen years old.  It's also good to remember that I just turned forty-one, since our age difference is important to this story.  She and I were talking about what I would be preparing the following night for dinner, and she suggested that I add some bacon to the recipe.  (We’re Filipinos, after all, and this is Iowa.  Pork products are both nature and nurture.) 

She texted me the words, “Bacon makes everything better.” 

To which I responded, #YouveGotThatRight, using the common Twitter hashtag.  

Seconds later came her response:  “U R too old 2 use #”  (Translation:  "You are too old to use hashtags.")

When I finally calmed down from laughing so hard, I responded:  “LOL!  (Laughing Out Loud)  Who says?”  

To which she simply said, “Society.”

She was kidding, of course.  (At least I hope so.)  She likes to exercise her nascent independence and foray into adulthood by looking for gentle opportunities to tease me, and knock me down a notch or two from whatever self-ascribed superiority I might have asserted as her father during the first twelve years of her life.  That’s par for the course, I understand.  I used to tease my parents a ton when I was her age.

But what struck me, or at least the preacher part of me, was the content of our exchange.  You’re too old to use hashtags, she said.  I don’t think she meant that literally, but there is some truth to what she is saying, at least in a wider context. 

I’ll unpack what I mean by turning our text exchange into a parable.  Let’s pretend for a minute that I am the traditional, mainline church, attempting to communicate to today’s disaffected, un-churched, younger generation.  And let’s say that I make the misguided assumption that today’s un-churched youngsters want to be addressed at their level, on their own terms, connected to their own experience.  So “Magrey” decides to talk to “Grace” by establishing a whole category of language and experience: 

Relevant.

Relevance becomes an overriding strategy, a guiding principle, for deciphering the ancient and traditional language and experience of the Christian faith into something more accessible to those on the outside, and more in the “language of the street.” 

So the church decides to “hashtag” things. 

·      It hashtags the liturgies of the sacraments by speaking more “off the cuff” at the altar for communion or at the font for baptism. 

·      It hashtags the sermon by employing what Bishop Will Willimon once called “PowerPoint Preaching.”  It reduces the utility of the Bible to tidy sets of practical, take-home applications, so that by seeing the Bible as merely collections of simple steps to follow, you can, for example: improve your marriage, lose weight, find happiness, chart your career, become a better citizen, or some such pop-psychology precept. 

·      It hashtags the pastoral prayer by using spontaneous prayers more than carefully crafted ones, employing so many trite phrases like “God, thank you for this day” and “We love you, Jesus” with such regularity that prayer itself seems more cliché than actual communication with God.

·      It hashtags the hymnody of the church, so that songs with nuance and depth are replaced with lyrics based on an egocentric Christology.  Many praise and worship songs have more to do with “me and Jesus” and less to do with community, social consciousness, and justice. 

·      It hashtags the preacher, from clothing choices to hairstyles.  It hashtags the worship space, making it more like a performance hall, or living room, and less a place of mystical encounter.  It hashtags the very mission of the church, so that it is more about giving people what they want, in order to get them into the sanctuary, rather than growing people up in their faith or moving them out into service. 

Well, you get the drift.  The church “hashtags”  every time it acquiesces so much to the culture – even under the auspices of transforming the culture – that it falls short of its counter-cultural calling.

There is danger in the other extreme, of course, in which a church becomes so entrenched in tradition that it becomes impersonal, predictable, and lifelessly lacking any kind of vitality.  You and I have been to churches like that, I’m sure.  

Nonetheless, churches that try to act and speak too much in the vernacular run the risk of losing a critical sense of mystery that is essential to the faith.  It is the embrace of doubt and shadow, silence and complexity, in the way we worship, pray, read the Scripture, share the good news, serve one another, and love our neighbors.  It is a humility born from acknowledging that our finite minds cannot – and therefore, do not have to – put the Bible, or our liturgies, or our worship formats, in tidy packages, easily consumed.  It is articulating a faith that embraces mystery, because that is an essential part of the human experience.  In an odd kind of way, it is the most relevant move the church can make.   

So maybe Grace was on to something.  When I try to act cool, I wind up being the opposite of cool.  And when the church tries too hard to be relevant, it winds up losing what makes it so special, so enticing, and so transformative.  But when it embraces its unique, counter-cultural calling, it offers the world what it desperately needs and nothing else can provide.  

And that’s why our current sermon series through the book of Acts is so important for us.  For this book is replete with reminders of a time when the church cared less about being relevant and more about being faithful.  It’s a lesson we can learn today, 2,000 years later.  And it’s a lesson the world desperately needs to hear.

Grace and Peace, 

Magrey

The Rev. Magrey R. deVega

St. Paul's United Methodist Church

531 W. Main St.

Cherokee, IA  51012

Ph:  712-225-3955

Email:  mdevega@sp-umc.org

MAGREY AND GIRLS OUT OF TOWN NEXT WEEK

The girls and I will be heading out of town after the worship service this Sunday to spend some time with family down in Florida.  We will be gone from June 20-31, so the Mid-Week Message will resume during the week of August 3. 

Magrey on a Coke Bottle?

July 7, 2014

Dear St. Paul’s Family,

Sometime along the six-hour drive to the Wisconsin Dells last week, the girls and I stopped at a gas station to stretch and refuel.  We went inside to grab a few drinks, in what I had intended to be just a quick stop.  I never thought I'd have a reason to pull out my smartphone to take a picture of anything inside the store.  But there was, and I did.  

I reached for my usual drink of choice (a caffeine-free Diet Coke), and found that each of the Coke bottles was uniquely labeled, not with the words “Coke” or “Diet Coke,” but with the words "Share a Diet Coke with:" folled by names like Luke, Julia, Lauren, Jacob and Travis.  

It caught me off guard, as I thought this was some kind of joke.  But it wasn't.  Apparently, the Coca-Cola Company has printed bottles with 250 different names as part of this summer’s “Share a Coke” campaign.  It goes like this:  find a bottle with the name of someone you know, and buy the bottle to share it with them. 

“‘Share a Coke’ is designed to get people talking and sharing,” said Jennifer Healan, a marketing executive with Coca-Cola. “When teens see that the iconic Coca-Cola logo has been replaced by their name or their friends’ names, they can’t help but take a picture and post it online.”  [1]   It is a campaign designed to capitalize on our simultaneous desire for face-to-face connections with people and digital interactions with them through social media.  Stuart Kronague, Coca-Cola’s senior vice president, put it this way:  “For teens and Millennials, personalization is not a fad, it’s a way of life,” she adds. “It’s about self-expression, individual storytelling and staying connected with friends. ‘Share a Coke’ taps into all of those passions.”

Well, it didn’t quite work for me.  I rummaged through all the bottles of Diet Coke on the shelf and didn’t find a plainly labeled one among them.  And, more importantly, not a single one with the name Magrey on it.  I decided it would feel silly walking out of the store drinking a soda with someone else’s name on it, and I didn’t know anyone by the names above with whom to share it, so I switched to another brand of soda and walked back to the car.

But then, a thought occurred to me as I was driving away.  What if I did find a bottle with the name Magrey on it?  How cool would that be?  Wouldn’t I want to buy it?  Or what if someone had found a bottle with my name on it, and decided to hand it to me personally?  How neat would that have been?  Instantly, the rather mundane experience of drinking yet another carbonated beverage would have been transformed into a uniquely personal, altogether memorable moment.  It wouldn’t have just been any bottle of Diet Coke.  It would have been my bottle of Coke.  And this massive, global, multi-billion soda company would have found a way to make little old me feel a part of it. 

All of this is mere conjecture, of course, as I doubt a Magrey Coke bottle will ever emerge.  But I think Coca-Cola is tapping into something very interesting in its assessment of the very same culture to whom we are called as a church to reach:  we are relational creatures, who crave personal connections between us and others, and with larger narratives that go beyond ourselves.  It isn’t enough to drink a Coke.  We want to drink a Coke with someone special, and feel drawn into a story that is bigger than we are.

And when you think about it, isn't that the task of the church?  

Well, just ask the two central characters in this Sunday’s scripture reading.  I didn’t plan it this way, but my experience with the personalized Coke bottles coincides with preparing to preach this Sunday on Phillip and the Ethiopian in Acts 8, the next stop on our journey through the stories of the early church. 

Here was an Ethiopian man, whom Acts describes as a government treasurer and a eunuch, standing alone in his chariot one day, scratching his head as he pondered the odd complexities of a scripture text.  Sort of like standing in front of a refrigerator case trying to figure out what beverage would best quench his thirst.  But then the disciple Phillip, taking a page from the Coca-Cola campaign playbook (or, more accurately, following the prompting of the Holy Spirit), came up to him out of the blue and made a personal connection with him.

We’ll dig further into the particulars of this wonderful story this Sunday, but the quick result is that the Ethiopian man discovered something of himself in the grand story of the gospel.  Thanks to his personal connection with Phillip, he found his own identity, and his own name, immersed into the story of Jesus.  He was baptized and became a follower of Jesus Christ. 

So here’s the question.  What would happen if you were reading a passage of Scripture and discovered your very own name in it?  What if, tucked among the powerful story of Jesus’ love, grace, and forgiveness, you were actually a part of that story?  And what if, instead of struggling to understand that story on your own, you found yourself surrounded by a community of people joining you on that same journey, with face-to-face interactions that offered you encouragement, discernment, and guidance?

Well, look closely.  That's your name written into God's story.

Shouldn’t that make a difference?

Magrey

The Rev. Magrey R. deVega

St. Paul's United Methodist Church

531 W. Main St.

Cherokee, IA  51012

Ph:  712-225-3955

Email:  mdevega@sp-umc.org

[1]  http://www.coca-colacompany.com/stories/summer-of-sharing-share-a-coke-campaign-rolls-out-in-the-us

CHURCH WIDE PICNIC AND POOL PARTY

Once again, we are having a church wide picnic at Gillette Park on Sunday, July 13, from 6:00-8:00pm followed by an exclusive pool party at the Bacon Aquatic Center from 8:00-9:30pm.  Grilled meats and fixings will be supplied.  You are invited to bring your own drinks as well as a side dish or dessert to share. 

I Have No Idea Where I Am Going

July 1, 2014

Dear St. Paul’s Family,

My conclusion to last Sunday’s sermon was nearly an afterthought when I wrote it, but given the response, I’m glad I included it.  Many of you have since requested a copy of the prayer from Thomas Merton that I connected to the advice of Gamaliel in Acts 5.  So, I offer it to you here.

Thomas Merton was a Roman Catholic monk of the Trappist order who wrote over seventy books on the spiritual life.  His autobiography The Seven Storey Mountain was named by National Review as one of the 100 most important books in the century.  It details his remarkable conversion from his teen years as an agnostic to becoming one of the most significant Christian authors of our time. 

I’m not sure when I first read this prayer, which he first wrote as part of his book Thoughts in Solitude in 1954.  But over the past few years, friends have commended the prayer to me, always at a time when it seemed I’ve needed to re-read it the most.  Based on your response last Sunday, I suspect it touches on a universal theme of longing in the midst of confusion, and a desire to do God’s will even when such discernment seems impossible.  It conveys an intimacy with God when God seems most distant, and a depth to the spiritual life when all one has is rote practice.  It is the fusion of these extremes, in creative tension, that has contributed to the power of this prayer for many people:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

EXPLORING MERTON’S PRAYER

The prayer’s powerful authenticity is evident from its first few lines:  My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end.  This is a remarkable amount of candor coming from one so hallowed as Merton, but it is that honesty that makes this witness so comforting, and so relatable, to the rest of us.  Like Mother Theresa’s Come Be My Light or Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Who am I?, Merton’s prayer gives us permission to reveal our innermost doubts. 

Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.  These words remind me of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, in which he admits that “I want to know Christ.”  He doesn’t say he knows Christ, but that he wants to know Christ.  He doesn’t claim a perfect understanding of the Christian faith, or even states that such knowledge is ultimately and fully possible.  But he believes that his desire to know is in itself pleasing to God.  And it is a good thing that simply having that desire is enough, for sometimes that is all we are capable of offering. 

I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.  Whenever I hear these words, I think of one of my favorite stories in the gospel, involving the father with the demon-possessed child in Mark 9.  When Jesus told the father that “everything is possible for those who believe,” the man replied with similarly stunning candor:  “I believe; help my unbelief.”  Many times, we live with this odd and seemingly untenable juxtaposition between belief and unbelief.  We hold on to whatever strands of belief in Jesus we have, while the gravity of our situation pulls us downward.  But such a moment of tension, while uncomfortable, is stasis nonetheless.  And it can be a time of great strengthening for our spiritual commitments. 

Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.  I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.  It’s hard not to read these words without hearing its echo in the 23^rd Psalm:  though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we do not need to fear, because God is with us.  With all of the uncertainty embedded into this prayer, Merton claims one final, incontrovertible truth:  we are not alone.  God is always with us, even if in moments when God seems absent or distant.  And God will never leave you to face your perils alone.

Perhaps this prayer today comes to you as it has for me in the past:  at precisely the right time, when I have needed it the most.  If so, I am grateful.  As for me, I will be re-reading it a few times myself today.

Grace and Peace,

Magrey

The Rev. Magrey R. deVega

St. Paul's United Methodist Church

531 W. Main St.

Cherokee, IA  51012

Ph:  712-225-3955

Email:  mdevega@sp-umc.org

CHURCH WIDE PICNIC AND POOL PARTY

Once again, we are having a church wide picnic at Gillette Park on Sunday, July 13, from 6:00-8:00pm followed by an exclusive pool party at the Bacon Aquatic Center from 8:00-9:30pm.  Grilled meats and fixings will be supplied.  You are invited to bring your own drinks as well as a side dish or dessert to share.