Lutherans have adopted a new stance in recent years. Lutherans used to be the denomination that valued an educated clergy AND an educated laity. Lutherans used to be trend setters and thought leaders.

 

Somewhere in our 500-year history, we began to doubt — not God but ourselves.

 

Lutheran leaders, once able to forge their ministries around their own thinking and consideration of the gospel, now wait to be told what to think and how to react. “We respect the wisdom of our leaders” is an oft-heard mantra —one that compromises the integrity of our own tradition of free thinking. It abdicates responsibility. “Because the bishop tells us so” replaces “Because the Bible tells us so.”

 

We laity watched from the sidelines as our leaders worked for years to reach this “full communion.” Many of us had very little knowledge of the Episcopal Church. There are many Lutheran congregations with no Episcopal neighbors.

 

Why, exactly, was this something we wanted? What was ever in this for Lutherans?

 

The benefits are to clergy. They now have more pulpits available. There are also more clergy competing for them! The irony is that a pulpit has little influence any more, so why was this so attractive?

 

I suspect one of the motivations to Lutheran leaders was the more hierarchical structure of the Episcopal Church. Episcopal polity is more like the Roman Catholic structure in that the diocese owns congregational property. That’s probably fueling our bishops’ emerging propensity for grabbing congregational land and assets and ignoring promises made to congregations before the “full communion” deal. This includes their own constitutions, the contributions and wishes of congregations, and the local tier of leadership (traditionally a strength of Lutherans). The association with the Episcopal Church gives Lutheran bishops powers to crave that are absent from their own constitutions.

 

We now have 15 years’ experience as full communion partners with the Episcopal Church.

 

There isn’t much hope this long-sought relationship will ever benefit grass-roots Lutherans. Both denominations are struggling and the “full communion” seems to make us competitors.

 

In our neighborhood, the Lutheran bishop, the Rev. Claire Burkat, was working with the local Episcopal Church at the same time she was trying to destroy the neighborhood Lutheran church. Her involvement with our neighbors makes little sense. She told us that we were doomed because we had no parking lot. The local Episcopal Church has no parking lot either! Very few churches in the city ever had parking lots. Both congregations funded ministry by renting space for pre-school. We were in the process of creating our own Christian day-care program. Our congregation was larger at the time and more diverse. Redeemer had a far better location in the neighborhood and was a hub of community activities. So why did Claire Burkat believe in the future of Memorial Church of the Good Shepherd, tucked away on one of East Falls few upscale neighborhood streets. Why did she believe in their future and not that of the her own member congregation in the center of town? (Follow the money. Follow the power.)

 

All of this seems to tie in to the current happenings in the Episcopal Church today. The internet is abuzz with news of the happenings at what is believed to be the doomed General Theological Seminary in Manhattan—the oldest Episcopal Seminary in the United States. There was a dispute between faculty and administration which resulted in the firing of the majority of professors. Attempts at reconciliation have been dismal.

 

As the dispute is discussed, it becomes clear that things weren’t going well for a while. Class size was dwindling to the point that the faculty student ratio per class appears to be close to 1:1. Other statistics are starting to be discussed. Episcopalian congregations are reporting an annual downward trend of between 1 and 2.5 percent — not huge for one year, but alarming when repeated annually for a decade or more.

 

Perhaps they entered into full communion with us in hopes of reversing their own decline!

 

How are Lutheran seminaries and Lutheran statistics comparing? They may be troubled, too.

 

The whole debacle leads to questioning the wisdom of our leaders (perhaps too late)!

 

Thankfully, the end of the full communion agreement includes a page of disclaimers—which are rarely read—but may need to be moved to the front of the document!

Read this article that talks about the qualities of a Roman Catholic bishop and describes the typical career path of aspiring pastors and resulting effects to overall church leadership, especially in the highest Church offices.

 

Bishop Francis says he wants priests and bishops who have the “smell of the sheep”; that is, he wants them to be out among their people and not remote, removed and seemingly superior.

 

Protestants can learn a thing or two by comparing their leadership structure to the process described in this excellent article.

 

I can’t speaking for all Protestant denominations, but I see similar problems within the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. There is one thing very different about Lutheran structure. Our bishops reign with no authority over them except an unwieldy Synod Assembly system, where a third of voters owe their career path to currying the bishop’s favor and a large percentage of remaining vote (much of it lay) have limited experience or knowledge of church law or custom. They are the constitutional “highest authority.”

 

There is a “presiding bishop” with offices in the national church office in Chicago, but the people don’t really know what this national leader stands for or does. If the people take a regional issue to the presiding bishop, they are likely to be ignored. We know this from our experience with the current and previous presiding bishops. For all we know they are as what Bishop Francis describes as “airport bishops”—ready to hop on a plane to the Vatican or popular international site at any moment.

 

Our issues with the ELCA and its regional body, the Southeasetern Pennsylvania Synod, were (are) pretty serious. They involve land, church debt, a hefty endowment, the role of lay leadership, and the spiritual lives of nearly 100 people, all of whom were locked out of their church property and dismissed from membership in the ELCA by edict of a bishop, who was administering a regional body with a 10% recurring deficit budget. Courts ruled without hearing the case that they have no jurisdiction in intrachurch disputes. This was bad for us, but the day will come when the other churches who stood by and watched will realize that it was just as bad for them.

 

This is what it means to them. Regional bishops in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America are accountable to no one. They can write and approve constitutions with ease—because they don’t have to follow them.  ELCA bishops can do what they like.

 

That regional leaders often have next to no parish experience probably helped this situation come about. They never were in a position to know and practice servanthood (except ceremonially on Maundy Thursday).

 

In this regard, we are like the Roman Catholic Church. As this article points out, the surest track to becoming bishop in either the Roman Catholic and Lutheran Churches is to cozy up to those already holding prominent positions. Avoid parish service where no one will notice you. It is much easier to get the necessary name recognition working in the regional office or agencies than it is to serve any parish—large or small. SEPA’s current bishop served just five years as an associate pastor before going to work in the synod office prior to her election as bishop.

 

Here is how it works in the ELCA. Every six years, Lutherans are given a slate of names to consider for bishop. Most of the names will not be recognized by a great majority of voters. Delegates will read the short bio provided and check to see how others are voting.

 

Voters in civil elections for important but rarely publicized positions such as judge have more opportunity to vet and explore the credentials of candidates than delegates to church assemblies.

 

All churches are stuck with the decision made under this flawed procedure for six long years—when the process of electing the name most people recognize will be repeated. Parish pastors rarely have the visibility to attain regional office. The next bishop is likely to come from the existing regional body’s staff, seminary faculty or an executive of a social service agency that visits with all the congregations and is therefore known by the most people.

 

How can we improve the process to get leaders who not only “smell of the sheep” but who know a sheep when they see one?

There is a crisis at General Theological Seminary in New York City. Faculty members are unhappy with leadership. A seminary bigwig made comments that were offensive at worst or not sufficiently clear at best. The comments are being interpreted in a way he didn’t intend, he says. Mix all the ingredients together and Boom! It blew up in his face.

 

The issues themselves are a story in their own right.

 

Here are the links if the details interest you.

 

• The dispute: https://www.insidehighered.com/news/2014/10/02/most-faculty-general-theological-seminary-gone-what-happened
• More about the dispute: http://www.episcopalcafe.com/lead/seminaries/here_is_an_update_on.html
• The GTS Dean and President’s Response: http://www.episcopalcafe.com/lead/seminaries/general_seminarys_besieged_dea.html

 

I’m more interested in the process we are witnessing and how it differs from the way disputes are usually handled behind closed church doors.

 

The dean/president took quick action. He wrote more of an explanation than an apology. It was long, detailed and covered a lot of underlying issues. It was reprinted outside of the seminary community.

 

What? This is never done!

 

Thirty years ago, every church leader would have known exactly how to handle this crisis. Say nothing in public. Do the damage-control dance internally. Rely on some other problem capturing peoples’ attention within a few days and hope with some realistic expectation that old-fashioned, unquestioning respect will kick in and save the day.

 

But things have changed.

 

Angry people today don’t usually read long and detailed explanations. They write short tweets on the points that offend them the most. Those tweets become a resounding chorus.

 

I predict things will get worse for GTS before they get better.

 

Church leaders are still living in a time when heads of organizations controlled all forums. We’re hanging on to that world for dear life!

 

Most online religion forums, if they allow comments at all, have a caveat—“Your comment may be monitored.” They’ll be looking to see if you have Dr., the Most Rev., Rev., or Pastor in front of your name and that what you write doesn’t offend or challenge people holding such credentials. Not much chance of off-the-wall or outside-the-box thinking grabbing attention. It’s not so much that monitors won’t print these kinds of comments but that the warning tends to deter creative thinkers. They will read the warning and say, “Why bother?!”

 

The Church just can’t let go of their cloisters and the discipline and control of church organizations. A lot of the comments attached to the writings on this issue refer to that private, protected, disciplined seminary community of yesteryear.

 

It will be hard for the storm at GTS to blow over. For every explanation issued publicly there is a potential for thousands of rebuttals—and all have access to the same information superhighway. They’ll find a way to post their ideas, with or without official approval. And if their writings are short enough, use the appropriate key words, and provide sharable images, they will be read around the world.

 

And this is a good thing. It will keep seminary deans, faculty, students and laity — all of us — on our toes.

 

Here’s how wise leaders of the future will handle controversy.

 

They will blog.

 

“But I don’t have time!”

 

It is time well spent and time that would have diverted the current controversy.

 

This crisis is not likely to have happened if the seminary dean/president had the discipline to write to his faculty and students EVERY DAY and not just during a crisis. Blogging would have helped him think through his positions and test slowly how they played to his constituency. Reactions would have been measured and handled before they had a chance to spin out of control. He would have fostered an engaged community that discussed ideas with temperance and respect.

 

Church leaders, make time.

 

They say God is the same—yesterday, today and forever. But I have reason to wonder.

 

Last weekend, I attended a family baptism held in a suburban church—one of the largest in the Southeastern Pennsylvania Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. The five-year anniversary of that Synod locking out our congregation and claiming our property is eleven days away.

 

It took four worship leaders—at least three of them pastors—to lead the service that wasn’t much different from a service led by just one pastor—or in many cases—no pastor.

 

For much of the service, all four were seated behind the altar with just the tops of their heads visible over the altar, looking a bit like “Kilroy was here” graffiti times four.

 

Having visited more than 80 churches in the same synod over the last three years, I have to wonder about pastors and the call process. Most of the churches we visited were getting by with minimal professional leadership—part-timers with limited commitment toward any growth needs of the congregations. God calls them, we are to believe, to “caretaker ministries.” That’s the church terminology when earthly leaders give up on God’s people. Caretaker ministers are considered successful if they live up to earthly expectations. Failure is the only goal. Yet, much is likely to be made of these “calls” to do little.

 

What happened to the God of the Bible?

 

The God of the Bible was forever calling leaders to forsake comfort and go to the needy. He dragged them from the rich, prosperous neighborhoods and put them on the fringe. He asked them to trust in his goodness (the Old Testament lesson last Sunday was the Exodus story of manna).

 

The God of the Bible didn’t negotiate salary packages with benefits.

 

Does God call pastors only to the large suburban churches, where so much ministerial effort is exerted just in management?

 

When “God” gives the larger churches the right to vote on ministries in distant neighborhoods of which they have no firsthand knowledge, the disparity within the Church and the called community is even more striking.

 

Perhaps the coming demise of the mainline church has something to do with our craving for comfort over mission. Perhaps it has something to do with making the model for ministry the creation of places for people to come to—instead of going to them.

 

Our bishop told us “A church without a parking lot has no chance for survival.” We visited many churches without parking lots, some of them doing pretty well!

 

Did God change? Or did we stop listening?

 

I’d like to see some form of “Kilroy was here” dotting the urban church landscape. That symbol gave courage and hope to soldiers when they saw it wherever they went in World War II. That symbol in the Church is supposed to be the cross. (Last week was Holy Cross Sunday). But our cross, in our neighborhood, with its burnt base having survived a 1920s fire, has been locked away for FIVE years with no SEPA congregations called to care.

 

Small churches are challenged to be sure, but our biggest challenge is overcoming the advice from church leaders who have stopped trying to serve small churches.

 

We know from experience. We were told all the things we “can’t” do. And then we proceeded to do them—even after church leaders took our property and money.

 

“We don’t see how you can go on.” That’s what they said.

 

Well, they spent no time trying. Their minds had been made up for them.

 

Here we are six years later—still active in mission and reaching more people each year than any other congregation in our area—way more! By next year, we will be reaching more than all 160 congregations in the Southeastern Pennsylvania Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America combined. That’s assuming they average 1000 people each.

 

One of 2×2’s loyal subscribers sent this video link that proves what is possible when you remove “can’t” from you vocabulary.

 

It is hauntingly uplifting.

 

Enjoy it and then work on your own mission with equal passion.

Today we celebrate church workers—the laity.

 

They work in one of the harshest work environments ever!

 

No pay, no benefits, little recognition, no opportunity for advancement—except to take on more responsibility with no earthly reward.

 

They have multiple bosses. The people, the pastors—even community members who don’t belong to the church.

 

When there is conflict of any degree, the church volunteer can count on bearing the blame—often behind closed doors, without their knowledge and with no ability to defend.

 

The entire structure of the Church relies on their offerings—heart, mind, muscle and dollar.

 

They’ll plan their family vacations and holidays around what’s going on at church. They’ll sacrifice their summers to running programs for the neighborhood. They will gather ideas and spark energy. They wield a broom and sing in the choir and bring an extra dish to the potluck. They will sit through meetings, chafing to get to work.

They are the torch bearers for mission.

They will have a tough time accepting any Church vision that is not mission-oriented. They will be criticized—even mocked— for this.

 

Church is not a social club to them—although professional church leaders might use those very words to discredit them.

 

They will ignore the criticism and come back. Sunday after Sunday. Weekday after weekday. Summer after summer. Holiday after holiday. Potluck after potluck.

 

They will be taken for granted.

 

The American church volunteer.

 

Today, trade the pew for the beach chair! Relax. Enjoy your day.

Pass the Shoofly Pie

I was reading an article about the Pennsylvania Dutch as a tourist attraction. The article began by pointing out that many of the things in the Lancaster County (only an hour from Philadelphia) tourist traps have nothing to do with the Pennsylvania Dutch. Windmills for example. The word Dutch is anglicized from Deutsch—the German/Swiss language. Nothing to do with the Holland Dutch and windmills!

 

The point was made that Pennsylvania Dutch includes more than Amish. The term includes all the German and Swiss settlers who came to southern and eastern sections of Pennsylvania in the late 1600s and 1700s. Many a Pennsylvania Lutheran claims Pennsylvania Dutch heritage. My grandfather was not Amish, but he spoke Pennsylvania Dutch. My other grandfather was just as Pennsylvania Dutch bur spoke Telegu as a second language.

 

The article points out that many of the foods served in Pennsylvania Dutch tourist restaurants are not authentic. This drew dozens of comments from readers who had their own ideas about authentic Pennsylvania Dutch cuisine.

 

I should know the answer! I am Pennsylvania Dutch. But I never heard of a few of the foods mentioned by the commenters, and I could add a few to the list.

 

This got me thinking—What constitutes authentic Pennsylvania Dutch cooking?

 

Are we Pennsylvania Dutch locked in time? Must we cook and eat the same foods that filled the 18th century farmers’ bellies? Are we misrepresenting our heritage to substitute oregano for savory? Must we choose shoofly pie over chocolate mousse to prove our loyalty? Could we marry (gasp) someone from one of the many other ethnic groups that also came to Penn’s colony—and are still coming to Penn’s colony?

 

No, we Pennsylvania Dutch know that a large part of our heritage is in how we think. We question. We do not adopt fads easily. We know what and why we believe as we do. We are loyal to our beliefs.

 

Need a label? Stubborn Dutchmen. I heard the phrase many times growing up.

 

People have a tendency to label groups of people. We are disappointed when our perceptions fail.

 

We do this with our churches, too—especially small churches. They tend to be viewed as smaller, less effective versions of the ideal bigger church. They will be stereotyped.

 

• Small churches are supposed to be family churches.
• Small churches are supposed to have a patriarchal leader or matriarchal leader that clergy should either work with or watch out for.
• Small churches are supposed to be homogenous.
• Small churches are supposed to be comforting to the aging with no younger people to consider.

If you belong to a small church, you can make your own list!

 

Small churches are entities unto themselves. There is a lot going on. Today they have power large churches do not have. They are unencumbered in many ways. They can change without layers of bureaucracy—unless we require a bureaucracy to meet some ineffective standard.

 

Small churches will be steadily preached to about change. But no one really expects change. Few will believe it if we do change! The fact is many regional church leaders have no plans to serve small churches. They will work around us and blame us when things don’t go well. They will harp about what must be done to meet their approval—their standards.

 

In my experience, small churches change first. Small churches innovate and adapt. Small churches have multiple leaders (almost everyone!) — not just one patriarch or matriarch. Those matriarchal and patriarchal leaders, if they exist, are likely to be rearing church leaders the same way they reared their children—to be productive, skilled, and self-sufficient. But outside assessors don’t see this in visits every few years.

 

Within the Church, we will be forever stuck with expectations of the past. We are the dying remnant of the glorious 1960s. Just let us die.

 

Is there an “authentic” small church?

 

Can any good come from Nazareth?

 

Pass the shoofly pie!

 

Or the mandazi! (African donuts—favorites at Redeemer pot lucks.)

 

Maybe We Should Be Looking

Closer to Home

There are many pictures of Jesus with little children. They dot Sunday School rooms across the country.

 

Seated at Jesus’ feet are children of every color.

 

Ahh! The Church as it was meant to be.

 

Easier depicted than done!

 

Diversity was/is a major stated goal of our denomination—Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA). Has been for years.

 

The question is “how?”!

 

One tactic for promoting diversity is to seek pastoral candidates that are diverse. Place pastors of color in homogenous neighborhoods of a different color. That’ll turn things around. Does it work?

 

Diversity is tough partly because we are unsure of why we want it.

• Is it to fulfill the image we grew up with—that image of Jesus sitting in a garden with beautiful children of every race?
• Is it because we want to address the social issues of race in our society?
• Is it because the mainline church is running out of white Christians to fund it?
• Is it for a feather in leaders’ caps?

 

Here is a post by a prominent black Baptist pastor, the Rev. Frederick D. Robinson. His thoughts are prompted by the events in Ferguson, Missouri. (A young, unarmed, black man was shot and killed by a white police officer. This sparked looting and rioting.)

 

The details about the shooting are still being sorted out. The racially charged anger that surely has been brewing for a very long time cannot wait.

 

Rev. Robinson discusses what diversity means to the Church.

 

He makes an interesting comment toward the end.

And a good place for that resistance to start is with a deconstruction of our theology, a theology that has been shaped more by the economic interests of America than by Christ.

I suspect there is something more going on and I need only replace one word to make the point.

And a good place for that resistance to start is with a deconstruction of our theology, a theology that has been shaped more by the economic interests of the CHURCH than by Christ.

Redeemer Lutheran Church in the East Falls neighborhood of Philadelphia can speak to the Church’s emphasis on diversity. We grew from being a solidly white congregation in 1970 to a very diverse congregation by 2008. There was even great diversity among our newer black members. Over the decades we experienced great criticism for being primarily white—even when our neighborhood was primarily white. We experienced the church’s tactic of placing a black pastor—not of our choice—in the pulpit to promote diversity. This was not successful. But Redeemer was successful with subsequent pastors—both black and white—who were chosen by our community. But our regional body—still stinging from their failures—was unable to see progress when it wasn’t achieved “their way.”

 

“Their way” was largely motivated by “their needs.” Their need to place pastors. Their need to control property and assets. Their need to save face when their ideas bombed.

 

These needs were so overpowering that the Church thought nothing of locking out all the members of the church—black and white, man and woman, adult and child—to gain control of assets and disempower lay leaders who were leading successfully.

 

A painting of Redeemer’s membership would have looked like the old Sunday School pictures. But the economic needs of the Church created its own reality.

 

I suspect this is happening all over the Church today. Ferguson took to the streets. Redeemer took to the courts. Neither work very well.

 

We could try the gospel. Hmmm!

 

I stated earlier in the post that the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America is our denomination. The truth—they kicked us out, locked our doors, grabbed our endowment funds and sold our property. They had diversity. They preferred money.

 

We never voted to leave the ELCA, but we have been excluded for six years from any participation. Do we have to take to the streets for clergy to notice?

 

 

But Where Were They for the Last Fifty Years? 

 

This post talks about the influence of clergy in calming the violence in Ferguson, Missouri.

 

2×2 is a city church. We live in a neighborhood (East Falls, Philadelphia) that has transformed over the last few decades just as countless American urban neighborhoods have. City neighborhoods used to transform over the course of a generation or a decade. Today, they can change dramatically in just a few years.

The Church doesn’t deal well with change. When the decision is “fight” or “flight,” flight wins.

What happened in Ferguson was brewing—probably for decades. Where were church leaders then?

Here is our experience. And we are not alone.

In 1968, when cities across American were burning with racial tension, our neighborhood was solidly white. Not rich white. Working class white. The people of East Falls came to this neighborhood to work in small businesses and factories. They created a nice neighborhood that richer people liked. Some wealthy and influential people built homes on the outskirts of the neighborhood.

Things were changing even then. The violence of the 60s accelerated change as the children of factory workers decided for the first time to put down roots nearby but outside the city. Mom and Dad stayed behind to age gracefully. At the same time, government leaders looked at the urban landscape to find places for low income government housing projects. Working class neighborhoods were the answer—not neighboring richer neighborhoods. Through the 1980s, East Falls had a government housing project on the northern, eastern and southern borders.

This created racial tension as an entirely new population appeared suddenly. The people and churches who stayed in East Falls dealt with the change. Like most change, it doesn’t happen by decree. It happens by living and working together, making occasional mistakes and trying again when the going gets rough.

Where were Church leaders during this time of transition? They visited once every 10 years or so and gave advice. “Close. Your demographics have changed. There is no future for a church here. Leave us your property and endowment funds. We will sell it for you.”

This was stated to us in just these terms and summed up by our bishop in 2000. “In ten years, you will die a natural death.”

By 2007, Redeemer had grown five-fold—with little professional help.

But SEPA/ELCA had a plan and they were going to stick to it.

Their only strategy was to stick a pastor in place. Full time as long as there was money. Then part time. Then Sunday supply pastors. Any pastor with a pulse would do since expectations were low.

There was no vision then. There is less now.

The view of the urban church from the green, manicured lawns of the suburbs remains static. Their view is a continuation of the “white flight.” They are coming back into the neighborhoods they have deserted and neglected. They are gleaning the physical and monetary assets they left behind. They were absent in the years when they could have made a difference. Helping churches serve in changing neighborhoods would have been a witness to the mission the Church stands for in theory—diversity, inclusiveness, charity, justice, etc. All these things are hard to do from 20 miles away!

Redeemer dealt with it. Again, change didn’t happen overnight, but it DID happen and without violence!<

What remains with our relationship with the greater church is dealing with Church Gossip. Gossip from the lips of clergy is powerful, hard to refute. Motives of the story tellers are rarely questioned. Much of it comes from people who have spent no time in East Falls in nearly two decades! Their view may have been self-serving back then!

When we hear the gossip about our congregation it is surreal—stuck in the 1970s. Our favorite distortion is the one we hear the most often. Redeemer is racist. They overlook the fact that church leaders locked out 60 black members of Redeemer to shut down the church which in their view had only 13 members—our white membership in 1999. They refused to see our changed membership except in a frantic attempt to encourage new people to join congregations more “like them”—assuming that newer residents of East Falls need help in choosing a congregation for their families.

Redeemer actually “transformed” steadily as the neighborhood changed. The first black members joined in the early 80s and when the Southeastern Pennsylvania Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America decided that they had better uses for our property and assets than we, Redeemer was a predominantly black congregation. Five black pastor served Redeemer — two called and three long-term supply. But Redeemer’s progress in diversity and inclusion didn’t count. Some leader 20 years ago decided the fate of Redeemer. They were waiting for the natural death they predicted—until their own fiscal crisis prompted the use of force.

Locked out of our own sanctuary, Redeemer members visited 80 congregations in SEPA/ELCA—the ones that voted blindly to go along with SEPA’s prejudices. Most of the congregations we visited were 95%+ one color or another. Only about four of the 80 were like Redeemer in diversity. And yet SEPA finds it so easy to label Redeemer racist.

After six years of seeking justice within the Church and in the courts, we understand the anger of the people of Ferguson!

What if the Church had never followed this foolish path? What if they had placed leadership in these neighborhoods that could — well, lead.

That’s what I’m thinking about as I read about the good work of clergy in the angry streets of Ferguson. Some of them are local. Some of them are coming in from outside. But where were church visionaries for the last fifty years when the anger, injustice and distrust was building—when gangs were attracting youth with false promises of power and acceptance? Where were they?

Mowing the lawns in the suburbs?

The passion of the people of Ferguson, misplaced in violent destruction, could have been harnessed years ago, if the streets of the cities were viewed by the Church as dynamic and not as spiritual wastelands—if they had professional leadership that didn’t seek first the economic security of the status quo.