My Favorite Heretic

heretic - n. a person who holds unorthodox opinions in any field (not merely religion)
recusant, nonconformist - someone who refuses to conform to established standards of conduct

or·tho·dox - adj. 1. Adhering to the accepted or traditional and established faith, especially in religion.

If you have not quickly guessed who my favorite heretic is even before I tell you, I will be surprised. The above quotes give clear indication of the life of the individual I respect most for his heretical ways. Human history has yet to to find a man or woman who would give their life so fully to teach concepts contrary to the established powers as this man did. Without concern for himself, he helped the broken, the suffering, the weak, and the young in spite of pressure to conform to the religious system of his time. When challenged by a hastily gathered court, trumped up with false charges, he refused to bow to conventional wisdom, and suffered a horrible death at the hands of corrupt religious powers.

He lived as a servant to humanity, and died an ignoble death as a heretic.

I generally capitalize not only his name as is standard for all names, but each noun and pronoun which refers to him. I have not done so to this point so you would have to wait, if you hadn't figured out who He was.

My favorite Heretic is the Nazarene.

I regularly read His life story to discover the people He came to serve. They were not the elite. They were not the rulers, nor the rich. They were not people of success, nor people of pedigree. He looked for the lost, and wore the servant's apron for the working class, and their children.

He was expected to serve the leadership, and the rulers of His day. That is generally the path to success, but He chose the path to sorrow and difficulty. His nose was not browned by being warmed at the back end of the powerful. When they were wrong, He stated so with the boldness normally reserved for judges speaking to criminals.

I have considered the people whom the Nazarene defended. They were not the churchgoing, nor were they considered the good citizens. They were the sinful, and the broken. They were people who were rejected by religion, and isolated by their circumstances from the rest of society.

Today, religious people often defend the church, and disassociate themselves from the broken, the strange, and the rebels. The Nazarene came for the these, spent time with the strange, and became a Rebel Who trained the next generation of rebels.

His interaction with the rich consisted of challenges of their allegiance to money's cruel, and powerful grip over their hearts. He spoke of the dangerous position of being rich, and the necessity of being willing to loose it all for the sake of living right.

He responded to the religious authorities with strong words of condemnation for their treatment of those they were supposed to be leading. He openly challenged them before the public - even on their own turf.

And so it was that my favorite Heretic ended up in a rigged trial, which condemned Him to that ignoble death.

I am convinced that He would be as much a Heretic today as He was then, and so I am not afraid to walk in His example.

I can embrace my inner heretic, because I have embraced my favorite Heretic

Embracing My Inner Heretic

Some time back I took an internet test. You've probably done some of those same worthless tests which tell you silly things like how much your life is worth, or rate your personality by Sesame Street Characters.

This test told which famous minister I was most like. It said that I was like Martin Luther. Now I am sure that its margin of error is about 78%, so I'm not banking on starting a reformation anytime soon, but he and I do share the same birthday, and he was famous for doing something on Halloween. Although his 95 theses nailed to the door at Wittenburg are historically a little more important than our large Halloween outreach. But perhaps we have more in common.

He was treated as a heretic.

Wow. We've got three things in common. I'm feeling a reformation coming on after all.

I've decided it is time to embrace my inner Martin Luther. Yes, deep inside of me I have a rebellious, anti-institutional, break free from the bondage of legalistic religion trouble maker. I have an inner heretic.

My inner heretic has decided that truth matters, and keeping up appearances is only as good as the paper you wipe it with. Faithfulness to friends matters, and faithfulness to a program, or an institution will be scraped off the bottom of my shoe before I enter the house. Serving people is a non-negotiable item, and making sure selfish leaders get what they want needs a bag when I take my dogs for a walk. My inner heretic believes that all people are equal, and those who think they are more important can watch their ideals swirl down the porcelain pot.

My inner heretic has decided to rise up and live life fully. No more fearfully hiding from the hard face of tradition, or squinting under the harsh, questioning light of convention. I will not be like everybody else simply to make some self-serving, brown-noser happy.

If you can't tell what I think of bowing to abusive religion by now, I'm not going to spell it out because I can't say it on prime time TV.

There were times when the Apostle Paul got mad, though I have a feeling that it might have been more often than was warranted. Yet, I am deeply impressed by his gutsy response to the Senior Apostle Peter. Paul stood up against him, when Peter refused to eat with the Gentiles while the Jews were around. Peter kept the legalistic conventions of the day, and by doing so perpetuated a false sense of the spiritual superiority of one group over another. Paul's inner heretic rose up, and let Peter have it publicly.

Paul embraced his inner heretic and rose up to meet the troubles of the day. He broke away from the expectations of his peers, and stood against the tide of popular opinion, and the slowly simmering corruption which comes from doing things just because that's the way it's always been done.

Jesus showed some red face too. The tables of the temple's outer court flew, and the turtle doves were squeaking and fluttering all about, as the sheep and goats bleated, and nervously scampered for places to hide in the flying coinage and billowing dust. At first the "money changers" as they were called, were surprised, but you know they got angry and filed formal complaints. Jesus' inner heretic could care less, because His Father's house had become a den of thieves through exhorbitant prices, and an unfair money exchange.

I know who the real heretics were. They were individuals who received the wrath of the angry followers of the Father in Heaven, but as is often the case, this world turns things upside down. Truth bearers, and those who go out of their way to make sure the path to God is cleared for others to navigate simply, get treated as the heretics. History wears the sooted face of the so-called heretics who have been burned by the traditionalists of their day - sometimes literally burned.

Today my path is relatively easy. I do not flee for my life to stand up for the truth as Luther did. Nor am I concerned about the rising faggot pile, and the stake to which the heretic is tied as Luther's predecessor John Huss, but like them I will embrace the rebel inside who looks like a heretic to the status quo if I must. I will embrace my inner heretic.

How Did I get it Wrong?!

Bobby presented a thought for consideration, "Perhaps you've miscalculated how Christians might misunderstand you?"

This was one of the last comments of the meeting. To the four of us who had been called in to give account of our supposed crimes against the orthodoxy of the faith, it seemed that Bobby's words were the only reasonable words of the morning.

For three hours we responded to questions, and dealt with accusations which alleged that we were somehow deficient in our doctrine, misguided in our passion to reach people who lived way outside the box we Christians call normal, and that we were dabbling in the occult. Forty-five minutes was dedicated to answering the question, "How can you be friends with Witches?" That question hardly seems to need an answer to someone who is following Jesus.

Apparently Bobby was right. We had miscalculated how Christians would misunderstand us.

The mayor didn't misunderstand us, and he was a Christian. The city committee members we had to work with each year didn't misunderstand us, and some of them were Christians. The hundreds of regular Christian volunteers who helped us perform our Halloween outreach over the last seven seasons didn't misunderstand us. The people in our little church didn't misunderstand us. But Bobby was correct Christian leaders did misunderstand us.

Thinking back, instances of misunderstanding come to mind.

The Short Silence

We were walking into the restaurant talking about the people of Salem, Massachusetts. This was a meeting with the District Supervisor for all the states from Ohio to Maine. I mentioned the religious affiliation of the people in the city. In the statistics Pagans came up. I said something about the "Pagans in Salem."

A short silence followed.

As we entered the doors, Tom said, "Phil, you might want to explain what you mean by Pagan. I am not sure they understand. They might think you are speaking ill of the people in the community"

It's true, I have to be reminded that Evangelical Christian leaders often do not know much about religion. They know about their own little sect of Christianity. They know about the Bible. They do not know about Mormons, Jehovah Witnesses, Muslims, Hindus, Christian Science, the New Age, or Neo-Paganism. A Pagan is someone who lives a decadent lifestyle in rebellion to God in their personal dictionary. The term is derogatory.

I do not comprehend a religious leader not knowing about the other religions of the world. More specifically, I do not understand not knowing about the religious groups which are influential in our own communities. How do we respond to the person who comes with questions about religion?

Perhaps you have an interest in an alternative religion such as Neo-Paganism, and have been afraid to share it with your Christian friends. You might have a family member, a friend, or a co-worker who is experimenting with spirituality,and they are not open to discuss it with you for fear of you misunderstanding.

Pastors should be some of the first people in the community who are sought after for advice on pursuing spirituality. Unfortunately, we are often the last. In my city many people will visit the Tarot card reader first. Ever wonder why?

Those Pagans

Just a few weeks before the allegation filled meeting, I stood in front of the conference and invited the church leaders to come to our outreach in Salem. I quickly mentioned that we need to become sensitive to today's religious vocabulary, "Pagans" and "Heathen" which were once derogatory terms in Christian churches were now religious affiliations being adopted by thousands of people every day.

The main speaker had made a reference to the "pagans" in his community. He meant decadently living, God ignoring, selfish people, and the term was derogatory. Perhaps that was a bad career move on my part. Then again I am known for pushing the edges of convention.

This speaker was presented as a model for reaching a community. He was from Northern California. I know there are lots of Pagans in Northern California, and I mean those of the religious variety. This pastor did not realize that he had set the standard in front of a Pastors' conference for stripping people of their dignity by using their religious affiiation as a passing putdown.

I believe that our words, our prayers, our ideas, and our intellect all have power which God wants to use. God even wants to use Pastors of churches to help your community. If you've been offended by Christian leaders you may find that hard to believe. Me too occasionally, but I do believe that God can redeem anyone - even pastors like me.

So I guess its up for debate. What do you think? Did I get it wrong?

You can also visit me at Square No More where I blog about missional living, and rethinking our little Christian lives. ;-)

Read up on our full story at Next Wave E-zine.
See the Wall Street Journal Article

Home Brew Gone Bad? gauging persecution, isolation, and a Martyr's Complex

This being my personal blog which releases the serial deconstructionist in me back upon myself it only seems right to consider whether my highbrow ideas about church life, and the state of Christianity are really just some sick Messiah Complex.

Okay my ideas about churchlife may not really be highbrow. They may actually be quite common, simple, and more like an home-brewed ale, than a expensive wine matched with the first course of a seven course meal, but that does not relieve me from the possiblility of acting all highbrow and know-it-all about my self-appointed important ideas.

Now I know a few people with Messiah Complexes. Most of them tend to have a Martyr Complex as well. Could it be that somewhere their good ideas were rejected, that they received a little abuse - perhaps even a lot of abuse? Could it be that good ideas ignored ferment, and build pressure until they bust out in a more aggressive expression? If left to ferment too long, is it possible for the expression to be more violent than it needs to be - self important, and perhaps over bitter like a bad home brew?

The Messiah Complex people I know are pastors, alcoholics, businessman, unemployed laborers, lawyers, high school dropouts, soccer moms, and society's disenfranchised. They do not fit a specific demographic, but they do all have ideas which carry some sense of urgency, and they view their ideas as under-utilized, and ignored.

Of course, I am not sure how one personally discovers whether their ideas are revolutionary or simply insane. I am not sure that Martin Luther felt any different about his ideas than Rasputin, DeTorquemada, or the countless mad monks who have filled the hills of history.

I do know this: I need to be careful about how I think about what I think. I am convinced that church as usual is not the way to go. Having been on the receiving end of abuse in denominational activity, I am convinced that something needs to change in the circles I had a part of over the last twenty years. I have seen the hypocrisy of the people who speak in the name of unity, and carry the small knife which gets buried deep in the back. I have seen Christian leaders nod in approval to ideas which I have presented, only to have them turn and treat those same ideas as heretical spewings.

Yet I have to ask myself, "What is the difference between good ideas gone bad, and truly revolutionary thinking?"

I am sure that I have had enough persecution, and general trouble, with a small degree of isolation (especially now while I help lil' ol' Forrest to recover) to allow the Martyr's Complex to ferment in my heart, and even develop to the Messiah Complex. Yet I am hopeful that in questioning this I am knocking myself back to a humble position, and avoiding thinking more of myself than I ought to. Perhaps this will allow the yeast of my thinking to controllably ferment.

Jesus was a Rebel, and so must I be. Yet his home-brew has lasted for centuries. It has not gone bitter. It still fills the heart with laughter and joy. I am not sure I have His recipe, or his skills in my batch.

Lord, help my revolutionary thoughts to brew a fine deep red ale, and not a nasty little home brew no one else can stomach.

Tension and Excitment: The Revolution Starts Now?

Today I received a letter from the old Denominational gang. We sent a letter asking for them to reevaluate their previous decisions, and look fairly at all the evidence - which they previously neglected to do. Their letter said in business like terms, 'we will review this request.'

Meanwhile back on the blogfarm, I have been listening to a song repeatedly, like a four year old. The song is "The Revolution Starts Now" by Steve Earle. In fact, I will pause for a moment to light up my iTunes, and play it while I type.

"buh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh...I was walking down the street, in the town where I was born..."

Okay I'm back - kind of.

"The revolution starts here..."

I was nervous to open the letter, because we've been through Hell in the last year. The Wall Street Journal did not have the space to even touch the depth of our tension, and struggle. But after reading the short, (terse perhaps?) response from a denominational VP, I began to get excited as the day progressed.

Pause again - I've been typing slowly, because I was singing along with Steve, and now like the four year old, I must restart the song. Tom Petty is cool, but not revolutionary enough for the moment.

"buh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh..."

"I was moving to the beat, that I never felt before..."

Okay, I'm back again.

Is this some weird form of mental disease, or was I born for revolutionary activity? Do I enjoy pain, or is my sense of adventure overheightened by a love for adrenaline? I should be mad, sad, or tense that this might start up again, but for some reason I am feeling excitement. What's up with that?.

"Yeah, the revolution starts now - in your own backyard, in your own home town...."

That's it. I can't type anymore, but I can replay the song a third time.


"buh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh...I was walking down the street, in the town where I was born. I was moving to the beat, that I never felt before. So I opened up my eyes, and I took a look around. I saw it written 'cross the sky, 'The Revolution starts now.'"

By the way - Forrest is home, and appears to be coming along as a three-legged Greyhound. What a tough little guy. He's my inspiration.