John Rutland, George Wallace, Communion, and the Kingdom of God

February is Black History Month, and we have also entered the holy season of Lent. Our United Methodist Bishops have called the church to a Lenten season focused on dismantling racism. Their devotions may be found here.

This convergence has led me to share a story that I recently wrote down for the first time. 

It's part of an introductory chapter in a book I am writing on the distinctiveness of Wesley's communion spirituality in our times of divisiveness.

Attached is a picture of Rev. John Rutland and his wife Mary.

If there is such a thing as a mind-blowing story about Holy Communion, I have one. I heard it years ago from a man named John Rutland. He had been a friend of my family since long before I was born. John was one of the old time Methodist preachers of the North Alabama Conference, always wearing a white shirt, a blazer or sport coat, a super-wide tie, and an even wider love for Jesus. He had a spring in his step and a twinkle in his eye, and to me this short, stocky man was always larger than life.

He and my dad had been colleagues in ministry, and John loved to tell of a time he gave me a quarter when I was a child and he was my father’s District Superintendent. Apparently, I got up in his lap and said “Brother Rutland, when you go to that place …” He said, “you mean Annual Conference?” “Yes, and you see that man …” He responded, “you mean the bishop?“ “Yes, will you tell him to send my daddy to Disney World?”

John had told me plenty of stories, though his communion story brought them all together. My wife and I had become associate pastors at the same church he served in his retirement, and he told me numerous tales from his years of preaching in the middle of Birmingham civil rights history and his uncanny tendency to step into it. He once took me to the pulpit area of the old Woodlawn United Methodist Church and pointed to a seating section on the far right, near the exit. “That’s where Bull Conner used to sit … when he was sitting, that is.” I knew, of course, that “Bull” was the infamous commissioner in Birmingham that oversaw the police and fire departments, enforcing segregation and becoming a national symbol of police brutality with police dogs and fire hoses. Conner had been a member of that church during the Civil Rights era when Rutland pastored there. “Sometimes, when I would preach that Jesus loved all people, regardless of the color of their skin, he would stand up, huff, and storm out.” 

Standing by the pulpit that day, he told me the colorful story of the time he walked up to Conner and his deputies standing on the front steps of the church with their arms crossed. After he asked what they were doing, Conner said, “we’re making sure only the appropriate people come to church today.” John got up in his face and said, “let me tell you something, Mr. Conner. I’ve been appointed by the bishop to be pastor of this church, and I will decide who can come in for worship. And if you get in my way, I’ll call your own police department and have you removed.” He then walked away, his legs feeling like limp noodles. As he turned the corner, he heard Conner whisper to his deputies, “let’s go boys. He’ll do it.” John Rutland must be one of the few people that Bull Conner backed down from. 

On another occasion, John told me of a letter he had once gotten from Alabama Governor George Wallace. He had been with a group of preachers who had met with Wallace a few weeks prior to his first inauguration, a meeting when he had made all sorts of promises to these pastors who were in favor of integrating schools. Then at the inauguration, Wallace made the infamous speech with the words, “segregation now … segregation tomorrow … segregation forever!” John was perplexed and wrote Wallace a letter asking how he could possibly change his tune so dramatically in such a short period of time. Wallace wrote back to him saying, “I’ve been out-segged and I’m not going to be out-segged again … you fancy-pants preachers had better watch your back in Alabama.” 

So, you can imagine how I felt when Rutland walked in my office one day and said, “I wish you’d been here yesterday.” I had been visiting the hospitals, and boy was I sorry. “I dropped by to see if you wanted to go with me to serve communion to George Wallace.” He then told me one of the most compelling stories about Holy Communion I have ever heard. 

Our bishop, Lloyd Knox, had called John Rutland to ask if he had a portable communion set. George Wallace, still a Methodist, had called Bishop Knox from his death bed and asked if he would come serve him communion. The bishop had been busy preparing to move away from the Annual Conference at the end of his term, so his was already packed. “John, I want you to go with me to serve communion.” 

“Um, bishop, I’d be glad to loan you my communion set, but I really don’t think you want me to go visit George Wallace with you.” As John put it, the bishop could be very persuasive, as bishops can be. He went after all, just hoping that since it had been so many years, Wallace would not recognize him. But as soon as he walked in the room, Wallace looked at him and said in a booming voice, “John Rutland!” 

 He sheepishly walked into the room. The bishop gathered them around the hospital bed and asked why he wanted to receive communion. Wallace said, “I asked you to come today because for so many years, I was wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things.” He shared that he needed to make his peace with God. Bishop Knox went and got the nurse out of the hallway, and she happened to be African American. They all shared the holy meal together. 

John finished his story with words I will never forget, “Here we were, Bishop Knox, George Wallace, a black nurse, and the ‘fancy-pants preacher’ sharing communion together. Now that’s the kingdom of God!” It certainly is. 

Communion has a way of shedding light on both who we really are and who we are called to be. It is an honest meal. We come to the table being real with God through confession, and Christ comes to us in real ways though his presence, hospitality, and grace. The Lord’s Supper binds us together in mysterious ways, for it is a sacred act of both receiving the grace of God and being the body of Christ with one another. 

John Rutland’s story has stuck with me during the remainder of my life and ministry. It was not just a tale about race relations. It was a crystallized moment in time that sheds light on the holy meal. We taste and see the goodness of the Lord. We get an honest look at who we are, experience how incredibly beloved we are, and get a glimpse of life in the kingdom of God while we are at it. No, it’s not magic. A better word for it would be mystical.

Copyright 2021 Stephen P. West, all rights reserved

Praying the Psalms

I am so delighted to be part of a church that really believes in prayer.

I love the spirituality of diligently keeping up with a prayer list as a community and lifting those names not only in the newsletter, but as part of heartfelt Sunday morning prayers led by staff. I love the warmth and close proximity of the prayer room which focuses my prayerfulness before and after services, when I’m recording midweek devotions, and whenever I just need to go there to be still and know.

I also love the way this church is accustomed to making the psalms part of morning worship, as well as psalms being embedded in the lyrics of worship songs at Thrive. The psalms call our community to prayer. The psalms are the prayer book of the Church as well as of our ancestors in faith. Jesus had these prayers on his lips and in his heart. Christians keep praying the psalms, and will do so for the expanse of time, in ways that take prayer beyond words.

Whether our personal feelings at any given moment are articulated in a particular phrase, the psalms express the prayers and honest feelings of the whole Church across the world and across time. They give our prayers language and context. They connect us with the ongoing praise and prayer of all creation.

I ran across this good word in my morning devotions, from the martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer whose deep and biblical spirituality led him to stand firmly against the realities of political evil. I share this with you today from his book Life Together.

“The Psalter is the vicarious prayer of Christ for his congregation. Now that Christ is with the Father, the new humanity of Christ - the body of Christ - on earth continues to pray his prayer to the end of time. This prayer belongs not only to the individual member, but to the whole body of Christ. All the things of which the Psalter speaks, which individuals can never fully comprehend and call their own, live only in the whole Christ. That is why the prayer of the Psalms belongs in the community in a special way. Even if a verse or a psalm is not my own prayer, it is nevertheless the prayer of another member of the community; and it is quite certainly the prayer of the truly human Jesus Christ and his body on earth.”

If you are new to praying the Psalms, spend time every morning for a few days praying Psalm 63. That’s a good place to start. Let the words sink in to the very depths of your soul and articulate your thirst for God.

A Vision for Those of Us Who Wish to Stay in the UMC

There is a good article that recently came out by denominational leader Adam Hamilton on the future of the United Methodist Church. It's a centrist response to those among us who are planning to leave our denomination and form a new one. You can find the article here.

Hamilton's article articulates a vision that connects with the coalition of traditionalists, centrists, and progressives in the Stay UMC movement in North Alabama. Hamilton responds to the misleading statements of those who plan to leave our faith family to be part of a new Methodist movement.

I consider myself a centrist who believes in the Bible and focuses on the person of Jesus Christ as the “determining source” of my faith. I plan to continue to be part of a diverse UMC with traditionalists, centrists, and progressives working together in love to spread both grace and holiness.

To learn more about the Stay UMC movement in North Alabama, go here.

#stayumc

Jesus Comebacks

I ran across this in a book I’m reading, and it gives me great hope.

“Even when Christian culture is compromised by conformity to the values and powers of this world, we can never shed ourselves of Jesus. He has a good record on comebacks.”

Jim Wallis

White Supremacy is Real

This is MLK, Jr. weekend when we observe one of the great Christian heroes of our time.

Racism in general, and white supremacy in particular, is something the Church must openly stand against. The insurrection against the capitol is a vivid reminder of just how dangerous it is to ignore the reality of extremist white supremacy in the US. The FBI has named it as our greatest domestic threat.

 

For the Church, calling out white supremacy is never about partisan politics. It’s about the gospel.

Jesus never mentions some of the things we get tied up in knots about in politics, so I consider those issues important, perhaps, but secondary because of the Word of God.

But no social issue is more centrally attached to the gospel of Jesus Christ than racism. Addressing issues related to conflict between Jews and Gentiles and Samaritans are everywhere in his ministry. Even gospel sermons in the early church follow the mode of Paul’s in Acts 13, where the good news of resurrection life was followed with the uncomfortable truth (for racist Jews of the time) that this good news was for both Jew and Gentile.

Stand against racism. Right now, it’s not enough to be personally not participating. We have to be faithfully anti-racist.

Years ago I published a column about this subject. In can be found on my blog here.

"The Hay that Heals" - St. Francis and the First Live Nativity

This is a written version of my second Christmas Eve meditation on December 24, 2020. Because of the pandemic, we met for livestream-only worship in the sanctuary, followed by outdoor communion serving and candlelight circle. I shared this meditation on St. Francis by the manger scene outdoors.

Earlier tonight, we gathered virtually by livestream to ponder the scripture, enjoy the music, and explore the meditations of this holy season. We joined in the Great Thanksgiving at the table of grace. Now we gather outdoors to receive this blessed communion and create a candlelight circle. And we do so around this manger for a reason.

Have you heard the origins of the manger scene? The manger scene was created by St. Francis of Assisi.

Francis, who was born into merchant family in Assisi of modern-day Italy, rejected his family’s wealth and even cast off his expensive garments in a public square. He founded the Franciscans, a movement that is dedicated to works of charity with the poor and marginalized. He was, of course, known as a lover of animals and all God’s creation.

In 1223, St. Francis did something special to kindle devotion on the birth of Christ, God’s concern for the poor and oppressed, and God’s love for the animal kingdom. He created the first live nativity. A generation later, in the year 1291, the first pope that was from the new Franciscan order had a permanent manger scene placed in front of one of Europe’s churches. That began the tradition of carved manger scenes we still enjoy today.

But that very first live nativity scene set up by St. Francis himself was placed near the town square. A real manger was placed there with hay, with Mary and Joseph, a carved baby Jesus doll, an ox, and an ass. Francis invited the villagers to come and gaze on the scene while he preached on the “babe of Bethlehem” (they say he was so overcome with joy, he could not say the name “Jesus”).

One witness said the wooden doll of the baby Jesus appeared to cry tears of joy and “seemed to be awakened from sleep when the blessed Father Francis embraced Him in both arms.”

There was another miracle, too, a miracle that I invite us to get our hearts in touch with during this pandemic. I call it the legend of “hay that heals.” The story is that the hay in the manger, from this very first live nativity, healed sick animals and protected people from disease.

We gather outside tonight in the middle of a world-wide pandemic that has changed our gatherings but will not kill our spirits. And we gather because of the healing power of the one who was laid in a manger.

Our staff prepared a little cluster of hay to give each family tonight. We share it with all of us who have come and gathered safely outdoors for closing communion by candlelight.

I invite your family to ponder your little bundle of hay. I invite you to place it under your tree, or on your mantle, or under your centerpiece on this most unusual Christmas Day. Tell others the story of St. Francis and the first manger scene. Recall the legend of the “hay that heals.”

We share this little gift because our world need healing right now, more than ever. We pray that the healing that pours out from the manger of grace will touch us in every broken place.

"O Holy Night" - A Super-Charged Political Statement

   

This is a written version of my first Christmas Eve meditation on December 24, 2020. Because of the pandemic, we met for livestream-only worship in the sanctuary, followed by outdoor communion serving and closing candlelight circle. I shared a separate meditation later by the manger scene outdoors.

Did you know the classic Christmas song, "O Holy Night," contains a political statement that was bold and brazen for its time?

On Monday, many of us gazed into the sky and saw what has been dubbed the “Christmas Star.” Since this rare conjunction of planets is one way astronomers say God might have sent us the star of Bethlehem, I took it as a sign of hope in difficult times. How wonderful that for us, the "Christmas Star" happened to appear on the longest night of year. It’s been a year which has felt like one long night.

As I woke up Monday morning in what seemed like utter darkness, the song “O Holy Night” popped into my head. On the day of our darkest night, the first thing on my mind was the holiest of nights. So I did a little research.

Did you know “O Holy Night” was written in 1847? The text was written in the French language bv the French poet Placide Cappeau and set to music by French composer Adolph Adam. It wasn't translated into English until 1855.

Obviously, the major social issue blazing in the world in 1847 was slavery, and that's not just what was boiling in the United States. In fact, the following year, 1848, was the year slavery was finally abolished in France and the French colonies.

This simple fact deepens the impact of the last verse of "O Holy Night":

Truly He taught us to love one another;

His law is Love and His gospel is Peace;

Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother,

And in his name all oppression shall cease, … 

That was a daring and direct statement with political implications! When the world was enraged and even on the brink of war over slavery, they openly sang that "the slave is our brother" and that in Christ's holy name, all such oppression shall cease. Period.

This gives us an angle on Luke's second chapter tonight. The very first "Christmas carols" in history - the canticles of Mary, Zechariah, and Simeon recorded in Luke - all sing that the coming of the Messiah had everything to do with God's concern for the lowly, the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized.

That’s why Jesus was born in poverty. That’s why he came from a technically unwed mother. That's why his family didn’t have the connections to find a decent room when traveling to Bethlehem. That’s why they laid the baby Jesus in a messy feeding trough full of hay, and that’s why they were visited by smelly shepherds who’d been working all night long.

God adores the poor and lowly, the needy and oppressed. So in God's odd way of saving the world, God became one of them, so that Christ might save us all.

This year, which has felt like one long night, has been a year when we’ve been acutely aware of stubbornness of systemic racism, and yet we worship the one in whose name all oppression shall cease. This year, when politics have been so divisive, we worship the one whose gospel is peace. This year, when some of us live on the brink of religious division, we worship the one whose law is love. This year, when we have been dealing with the blows of a world-wide pandemic, we worship the one who taught us to love one another.

This holy child, this Messiah, this savior, this prince of peace came to not only show us what true love is, but to bust open the door holding back God's radical grace. The singers of these songs can see that the love of God saves the whole world, but especially pours out upon the places and spaces love hasn't been reaching.

May it reach you tonight.