Presbyterians need both long-term and short-term mission workers, and I call on Presbyterians to support both. We can afford both, if we renew our commitment and improve our stewardship practices. I also call on Presbyterians to improve what you do in short-term mission, and to update your understandings of what we do together through long-term service.

The short-term mission involvements led by congregations are part of a phenomenon that has grown exponentially in the past decade. Often involvement takes the form of a "mission trip" by a group. These experiences often change lives, affect faith journeys, and focus mission involvements in very important ways. The denomination's mission vision stated in Gathering For God's Future names as one of our four crucial challenges "equipping the church for transforming mission." Mission trips can be a very good way to accomplish this equipping and transforming. The General Assembly Council therefore supports the movement by publishing materials to help trip leaders, and by assigning some long-term mission coworkers to help trip-takers. One mission co-worker assisted 200 such Presbyterians' involvement in Mexico last year alone. We are helping this movement mature and give more fruit.

Presbyterians need both long-term and short-term mission workers, and I call on Presbyterians to support both. We can afford both, if we renew our commitment and improve our stewardship practices. I also call on Presbyterians to improve what you do in short-term mission, and to update your understandings of what we do together through long-term service.

Dr. James Smylie’s article in this issue, looking toward the 250th Anniversary of the organization of Hanover Presbytery in 1755, reminds me of one of the losses of the 1983 reunion of the Northern and Southern Presbyterian denominations. “They” took away our name.

Dr. James Smylie’s article in this issue, looking toward the 250th Anniversary of the organization of Hanover Presbytery in 1755, reminds me of one of the losses of the 1983 reunion of the Northern and Southern Presbyterian denominations. “They” took away our name.

What has the church learned from the explosive response to our actions last summer in Richmond on divestment? Granted this is not everyone's concern, yet by its action -- intentionally or not -- the General Assembly opened the door to widespread public discussion in every place where Jews and Christians have significant contact. We both initiated and contributed to a dialogue that has been sadly lacking in American political life. The General Assembly took heat for these and subsequent actions, one of which resulted in the firing of folk in the Louisville office.

Presbyterian and Davidson Colleges have been much in the news in the New South states of South and North Carolina respectively. Leslie Scanlon's article delineates the issue at Presbyterian for the OUTLOOK. We covered the controversial proposal one year ago this month (the June 7th issue). That proposal led to the appointment of a commission to study these matters, chaired by Allen McSween of 4th Presbyterian in Greenville, SC. Since religion is big news everywhere, the secular press has given this college conflict extensive coverage.

In the meantime, this past February, Davidson's trustees amended its statement of purpose (see Rob Spach's Oped piece for the Charlotte Observer, which defends the action) to allow (not recruit but allow) 20% of its trustees be of faiths other than Christian, or of no faith. That action has provoked dismay and heated criticism, even though there are by now scores, if not hundreds, of Davidson alumni/ae who are persons of other faiths.

I've always been suspicious of dividing things in two. Some of my earliest memories are of wanting the whole thing, but being told that my older brother and I had to divide it up. Cake. Candy bars. That last hamburger, sitting on the grill, begging to be eaten. Even Kleenex. Kleenex? Yes, we used them a half tissue at a time. After all, I was raised by the generation that sacrificed through the Great Depression. I would insist on the whole thing. Then I'd hear those dreaded words: "Boys, you're going to have to divide it in two!"

My childhood selfishness aside, church life in the early 21st century is regrettably full of false dichotomies. And at San Francisco Theological Seminary, we are learning to resist and reject false choices that would require us to embrace only one side of a complex reality. Instead, our goal is to put our arms around the whole big mess that is life in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). Liberal or conservative? Yes! We are all both, albeit in different ways and on different subjects. Small church or large church? Yes! God's purposes for service to the world require both, and everything in between. Traditional or contemporary? Yes! Faithfulness requires the best of both. Reformed or ecumenical? Yes! Each requires the other. Theoretical, spiritual, or practical? Yes! Pastoral preparation cannot be comprehensive without all three aspects of formation for ministry, and others as well.

What is your presbytery, session, or congregation doing to prepare for September 15? That day is not on any ecclesiastical calendar. Many congregations are in "start-up" mode after summer vacation. Christian Education and Stewardship dominate the attention of the local church.

However, as far as the PC(USA) is concerned, this is the day the Task Force on Peace, Unity, and Purity will release its report for consideration, discernment, and conversation. This early release date affords the church in sessions, presbyteries, and church school classes ample time for open, free discussion before the 217^th General Assembly meeting in June, 2006, in Birmingham, Ala. That assembly will be asked to act on its recommendations.

The debate in the United States Senate over the "nuclear option" and the filibuster rule, whose centerfold is a Presbyterian from Nashville, Tenn., reminds me of the destructive experience of majoritarian rule that bedevils the amendment process for the Book of Order. One of the benevolent consequences of biennial assemblies is that we will be required to vote on those tedious changes less frequently.

Some of us remember when it took two-thirds of the presbyteries to change the constitution. The amendments that came forward for action had much greater depth and substance. Now we have a book that, except for the theological principles of governance, deserves (and I suspect receives) little respect. That is why in officer training we spend most of our time on the basics, especially Chapters I -- VII, X, and only those parts of XIV that apply to the election, examination, and ordination of officers.

It is a pleasure to welcome Randy Harris as Book Editor of the OUTLOOK. As you see from his bio he brings a great love of reading and an appreciation of books in many fields to this position, to this new venture.

We are grateful for the excellent work of Lillian McCulloch Taylor of North Carolina, who served as book editor for more than fifteen years. When Lillian came on board, the OUTLOOK still maintained "The Outlook Book Service," which was a true distribution source for curriculum, pastoral resources, and books. Like many of you, I can remember when one could receive orders from the Book Service faster than from any other Presbyterian enterprise. When Lillian began, her responsibility was multifold including promotion, reviews of resources.

If The Left Behind series of novels were not enough to disfigure the Christian faith in the public square, now we have the television series Revelations, an obvious effort to cash in on the fears and heresies of American life. These entertainments are fed by dispensationalists and pre-millenialists who have swirled into public influence in the last decade. They present a fantastic, anti-biblical view of how believers are invited by the Jesus of the Gospels to wait for his return when he shall come in glory to judge both the living and the dead.

Perhaps more pointedly than anywhere in Scripture, Matthew's gospel calls the church not to investigate apocalyptic events to discern when Christ will return, but to be obedient here and now. In the parable of the Last Judgment, where no one is left behind, we are divided into sheep and goats, and then Jesus tells us why. We have done the right thing (or the wrong thing) to him, as he is represented in real, historical time by his brothers and sisters, his "little ones" who were hungry, thirsty, naked, sick, and in prison. Some interpreters understand this to mean that the nations (gentiles or outsiders) will be judged by how they have treated members of the church. Other interpreters claim that this is a call to universal human obedience, and that all people of all religious persuasions will be judged (and received or rejected) by these criteria.

For my installation as Minister of Word and Sacrament at Second Church in Richmond, Hanover Presbytery, at my request, invited Father William Stickle to sit with the Commission and take part in worship. Bill was priest at St. Peter's, the oldest Roman Catholic congregation in the city. I remembered my friendship with him and with his successors as I watched John Paul II's funeral.

I also recalled that at Union Seminary (now Union-PSCE) in John Leith's theology class I learned what papal encyclicals are. Like no one else in my experience, Leith caused us to understand their importance -- not only to Roman Catholics, but to theological and ethical discourse in the holy universal church for the common good of the world's peoples. We studied Rerum Novarum (1891) and Mater et Magister (1961). My final year at seminary we joined an ecumenical conference of students and faculty at St. Mary's Catholic Seminary in Baltimore on the place of Scripture in our tradition.

John Paul II has died. The television pictures of that frail, physically impaired gentleman had long prepared us for the news of his passing. He was eighty-four years old, and had been in failing health for many years. May he rest in peace.

Popes have always interested me.

The austere, aristocratic figure of Pius XII contrasted with the almost folksy, rotund John XXIII who opened the windows of the Roman Church so that new breezes could blow in. Paul VI stood bravely before the United Nations and pled for peace in the days of the Vietnam War. Alas, his successor, John Paul I lived only a month after his election, to be followed by the robust Pole, who took the name John Paul II, to honor his immediate predecessors. I have read biographies of many of them, finding their leadership styles to differ, even if the power they held was in every case almost absolute. To this Presbyterian the idea that one man could be given absolute authority in matters relating to faith and morals has been incomprehensible. Yet, each of these men has also been very much a member of the human race, with individual characteristics, foibles, quirks that are common to all humanity.

I have been praying (and looking) for signs of a wider unity in the PC (USA) than the division our sharp, destructive conflicts over sexuality and abortion reveal. Of course, a wider unity must be grounded biblically, theologically, and confessionally. We Presbyterians never saw a theological debate we didn't want to decorate, preach about, or organize a committee around. That's a positive quality so long as it does not imperil action and genuine confession.

I do not claim to know that unity, but I believe there is promise in the combined evangelical, mainline, Roman Catholic, and Jewish assault on hunger and poverty -- led by Jim Wallis and others. At a conference brought together around this theme in New York some weeks ago, an evangelical held up a Bible from which he had cut all references to the poor for whom God cares, for whom God holds rulers of the earth accountable, and to whom Jesus (Luke 4) said he would preach the good news. There were precious few pages remaining. He then said that if you cut out the references to sex in similar fashion, the Bible would remain intact.

It has finally occurred in a public aside, in the March meeting of the Task Force on the Peace, Unity, and Purity of the Church. A conflict erupted that many people have been waiting for impatiently.  Could it be that the real challenge of status confessionis before the church of Jesus Christ in the United States of America is not homosexual ordination but the imperial conduct of this 'Christian' nation in its Middle East pursuits? If the Confessing Church movement has something to confess, then over against what apostasies and soul-destroying idolatries on behalf of Jesus Christ do they take their stand? Are they simply against other Presbyterians whom they deem heretical and unbiblical? Is the Covenant Network espousing a confessional position on the removal of G-6.0106b.? Are these organizations implicitly positioning themselves for "severance?"

Editor's Note: As I write, we are preparing for tonight's Maundy Thursday observance at Second Church. The news reports are full of the latest court maneuverings related to the Terri Schiavo tragedy. By the time you read this, it will be a very different time. But the questions raised today deserve continued, prayerful consideration

We who belong to the church of Jesus Christ might do well to cast ourselves before God and beg for mercy for our part in (either to ignore, to cheer, or to feed) the deplorable circus that has grown up around the life and disability of Terri Schiavo. How did one family (out of hundreds who are now faced with similar circumstances) gain such notoriety over what ought to have been from the outset a matter -- not of personal preference -- but of decision by family, doctors, priest, pastor, and social worker? 

In an interview on National Public Radio February 27, Andy Trudeau was talking to Sheilah Kast about film scores nominated for an Oscar this year, one of which was composed by John Debney for The Passion of the Christ. That was Trudeau's choice. We heard selections accompanying various scenes in the film. Trudeau's discussion of music for the resurrection caught my attention.

Director Mel Gibson had told Debney that he wanted a martial feeling to the resurrection sequence because "that's where the real battle begins for the souls of mankind." Trudeau explained over background drum rolls of victory, pomp, and circumstance that the music represents a "moral marshalling of the troops."

THE OUTLOOK has received a multitude of letters responding to Moderator Rick Ufford-Chase’s Guest Opinion, “Is Peace Possible,” in December 2004 (reprinted on p. 14 of this issue.) His hope has been realized, for in these pages, the church has begun serious, even heated, conversation about peace and war.

In this funny old town where I live and where I was trained theologically (at Union Seminary in Virginia) a continuing controversy is plaguing Black History Month. It concerns the use of a mock slave auction in an elementary school classroom in one of the conservative (red) suburbs that surround Richmond, the former capital of the Confederate States of America. Ironies abound.

While I make no brief against Black History Month or mock slave auctions, I do question the value of the latter in an elementary school. More to the point, I question the value of anything other than strict, basic education in elementary school (and in Sunday School) for elementary children. Children need to learn the basics if they are going to function responsibly as adults, as citizens, and as faithful Christians.

The meditation for Lent IV on Jesus' healing of the blind man in John's gospel effectively opens the central question before our beleaguered, cacophonous church. The PC (USA) is in an identity crisis. Publications and websites put forward by numerous associations claim to know the truth and to have the truth, and the truths are as different as night and day. Such stubborn knowing (seeing) is appropriately called into question by Chris Chakoian's meditation.

It set me thinking about how our eyes are opened, and how we learn to see. In John's story, learning to see is costly for the man healed, for his community of faith -- and even for the disciples. It is not, pun intended, a pretty picture. The healing provokes judgment as well as grace, for the light, which in John is never extinguished by the darkness of the cosmos, reveals as well as it enlightens.

Rarely has a film captured my attention as did Hotel Rwanda. I recommended it to the congregation this past Sunday (1/30/05), something I've not done previously, and even declared that it should be required viewing in every school and college, beginning with Middle School. Hotel has no gratuitous violence or language. It is based on a true story, and those who wrote and directed it are to be commended, not only for making an excellent, suspenseful film, but also for bringing public attention in a mass market to the horrors of continuing genocide. In three months Hutus massacred 800,000 Tutsis, a horror that began immediately after a peace accord signed under the watchful eyes of Western powers. The Rwandan government, in the hands of a Hutu general following the president's flight into exile, did nothing to prevent the slaughter.

Good advice is readily available on almost every topic. But when it comes to our church I am not so sure.

Some speak to us in hearty voices assuring us that all is well. Others are more strident, drumming their cadences out as though calling us into a campaign. And some speak so quietly that it is almost impossible to tell if they have something to say at all.

One of the quietest voices is that of a relatively obscure Benedictine monk named Adalbert de Vogüé. He lives in the abbey of La Pierre-que-vive, and he has thought about The Rule of Benedict for nearly fifty years. He has really thought about it, not quite in the same way that we have thought about the Westminster Confession of Faith. First hearing it read aloud daily as a novice, once in Latin and then later in French, he has become as adapt at listening to it as a doctor with his stethoscope upon a bared chest.

I walked down Grace Street in Richmond twenty years ago, and about two blocks away from St. Paul's Episcopal Church I began to see people with dirty foreheads: all sorts of people, some smartly dressed for work on their lunch hour, some rather shopworn and tired.  It wasn't until hours later that I realized that the source of the "dirt" was Ash Wednesday worship, so distant was this day in the liturgical calendar from my Presbyterian experience.  Now Presbyterian churches galore, including our own, have Ash Wednesday worship. We ministers smudge the foreheads of worshipers and say: "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."