Undelivered Mail and the Image of God

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USPS Mailbox, from Wikimedia Commons

Imagine that I went through the papers on your desk, found an old grocery list, and claimed that it was “undelivered mail.”  

If you had never placed the note in an envelope, addressed it, stamped it, and posted it in a mailbox, it just doesn’t fit the definition. It is not a piece of mail that could ever BE delivered. It is not “undelivered mail” because those words do not describe this scrap of paper.

This is the logical absurdity of calling a frozen embryo an “unborn child.” It was never prepped and surgically placed in a uterus, and therefore can never be “unborn.” It would be like calling a frozen human embryo “flightless” or “unelected” – it just isn’t in a position to be those things.

And although your grocery list may have information on it that could BECOME a letter, just the way an embryo has information in it that could BECOME a child, it is not a child. A child is a growing human person to whom we owe care so that she becomes an adult. But a frozen embryo, in order to become a child, not only requires being surgically placed into a uterus by trained professionals, but also requires the willing participation of a person with a uterus who can provide the consensual energy, labor, and care to generate that child. Any of those missing elements or participants — postal carriers and medical professionals, letter-authors and mothers, consent and a human community — mean that neither mail nor babies get delivered. Outside of a human mother and a human community, a blastocyst is not and has never been a child, and we do not owe it the opportunity or labor to become one.

Blastocyst, from Wikimedia Commons

It is not enough that the Alabama Supreme Court twists words, but it also twists scripture and uses biblical language to justify its decision. It makes an appeal to “the Image of God” (Imago Dei) a theological term which the opinion’s author clearly never bothered to research. If he had, he might know and reference how theologians have used that term through history. John Wesley, for example, in his sermon “The New Birth,” described how “image of God” could be interpreted as the natural image, the political image, or the moral image of God. Most theologians have talked about the image as a particular quality of reason or spirit.

It is likely that the biblical authors of Genesis meant “image of God” more literally. They were descendants of escaped Egyptian slaves who had been surrounded by images of gods. Of course, most of these gods just happened to look a lot like Pharaoh. Naturally, Moses and his people rejected celebrity idol-worship and the theology that propped up Egyptian slaveholders. Why bother making a statue of God when you can just look at your neighbor? It was a radical idea.

Reconstructed statues of kushit pharaohs discovered in Dukki-Gel. Wikimedia Commons

But Alabama, a former slave-holding state, prefers the theology of Egypt to the theology of both Moses and Jesus.  It hasn’t expanded Medicaid for its poorest citizens and has some of the highest maternal mortality in the developed world. Alabama gives lip service to high-minded phrases like “the image of God” while ignoring not only the suffering of our neighbors, but also ignoring scripture, tradition, reason, and experience. The Alabama Supreme Court opinion is not only bad law, it is bad theology and bad ethics. In appropriating the biblical language of the Imago Dei and weaponizing it against women, the Alabama Supreme Court is doing what right-wing theocrats have done for thousands of years: turn the law into a joke and the sacred into shit.

Who gets to BE Jesus?

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It is important to exegete the text that hate groups give us, for both strategic and educational purposes. I’ve seen a lot of hot takes on the “he gets us” commercial from Christians on both the right and the left. On the left, it focuses mostly on the identity of the hate groups and the theological/philosophical problems with the money spent. On the right, it mostly focuses on reinforcing justifications for hating various social groups perceived as sinners. All of this draws attention to the campaign (which delights its sponsors to no end, I’m sure.)

Apart from the VOX article I linked above, I haven’t seen much thoughtful examination of the theology or missiology of the implicit claims of the advertisement itself, though. And at the risk of taking up more airspace for an advertisement funded by hate groups, I’d like to offer a power analysis of the images and what they tell us about the theology of those funding the ads.

Willie James Jennings argues in The Christian Imagination: Theology and the Origins of Race, that white theology since the 1400’s has always had a theology of the “Great Chain of Being” where whiteness and maleness are closer to godliness. He shows us how this was explicit in early Spanish and Portuguese colonial and missionary activity, and how it has become implicit in the American church today.

The series of images in the ad employs codes or tropes that involve specific power dynamics along that Great Chain of Being. Generally, the people doing the washing, those with power, are those who are most obviously “Christian” and closer to God from the perspective of the cis-gender straight white funders: a policeman, an abortion clinic protester, a sober friend, a priest. In all the images, both characters have their shoes off, implying that each is washing the feet of the other. But in interrogating these images, I think it’s important to point out that the person who gets to “be” Jesus for the other in this snapshot is usually the person with more social power.

No trans people get to “be” Jesus in the images. No women get to be Jesus for a man. No black person gets to be Jesus for a white person. If there is a white man in the frame, that man always gets to be Jesus (except for image 11, which is notable because neither man has to be the servant of the other).

Below is a break down of the images, and a short description about what I perceive the power dynamic is in each one. I also include a reference to the codes or tropes being deployed; at least, this is how I read the ambiguous story in each image. I think it’s important to note that while age, class, racial, and political differences are highlighted in the vignettes, there are none where any power dynamics are actually overturned. This is especially clear with binary cis-gender dynamics: there are no men washing women’s feet, or women washing men’s feet. All the women wash women’s feet, and all the men wash men’s feet.

1) Washer: Young white man with bleach-blond hair.
Washee: Older white man.
Setting: Dining room with retro decor.
Background characters: A woman serves dinner, and a younger woman watches.
Implied codes/tropes: Perhaps this is reconciliation over a generational conflict, or represents an an inter-family problem. Women are bystanders. Men are in the foreground. Whether the young or old man has more social power here is a bit ambiguous.

2) Washer: A brown policeman, possibly or Latino or PAI ethnicity.
Washee: A young black man.
Setting: A gritty urban street.
Background characters: none
Implied codes/tropes: Probably referencing recent police violence against black people and Black Lives Matter. The policeman clearly has more power.

3) Washer: A blonde teenage white girl with the word “perfect” printed on her tank top.
Washee: Another teenage white girl with red hair.
Setting: A high school hallway
Background characters: Other students of possible Asian, Black, and Latino ethnicity.
Implied codes/tropes: These girls may be generic stand-ins for cliques at school, like popular kids and misfits, or cheerleaders and punks or goths. The blonde girl has more power.

4) Washer: An older white rancher or cowboy.
Washee: An older Native American man.
Setting: A desert campsite with a truck and a campfire in the background.
Background characters: none.
Implied codes/tropes: Historical conflict over colonization. “Cowboys and Indians.” The cowboy has more power.

5) Washer: A white woman woman in her 30’s or 40’s wearing a blue sweater.
Washee: A young woman in brown overalls with a tattoo on her leg.
Setting: A family planning clinic with a motel in the background.
Background characters: Abortion clinic protesters, signs lowered, one of whom appears to be watching the foreground characters.
Implied codes/tropes: A protester is likely washing the feet of an abortion clinic visitor, (although it’s possible that the reverse may be true). The protester has more power.

6) Washer: A red-haired woman, smiling and leaning in.
Washee: A woman with an anguished expression.
Setting: A messy kitchen with alcohol bottles on the floor.
Implied codes/tropes: Alcoholism and recovery. The sober friend has more power.

7) Washer: White man with a hard hat, possibly an oil field worker
Washee: Young woman, possibly an Asian or Native American environmental protester, with a “clean air now” sign nearby.
Setting: An oil field
Background characters: None.
Codes/tropes: Environmentalism, climate change, and protests over pipelines by indigenous people. The oil field worker has more power.

8) Washer: A white middle-aged woman.
Washee: A brown woman, possibly Latina, holding a baby.
Setting: In front of a bus in a suburban neighborhood.
Background characters: Adults and children who appear to be passengers on the bus.
Codes/tropes: Immigration, anchor babies, and suburban moms. The white woman holds more power.

9) Washer: A middle-aged woman, possibly white or Latina.
Washee: A young woman in a hijab.
Setting: The front yard of a house in a neighborhood.
Background characters: Two men, likely the husbands or partners of the women in the foreground.
Codes/tropes: Immigration, anti-Muslim prejudice, hijabs as an indicator of Muslim identity. The non-Muslim woman has more power.

10) Washer: A young black woman
Washee: A young woman, possibly white or Latina
Setting: A protest and counter-protest conflict, the subject of which is unclear, but vaguely something related to “cancel culture.” Signs include “Shut him up” and “Silence hate” and a “No censorship” symbol.
Background characters: Diverse young people, at least three with megaphones.
Codes/tropes: Cancel culture, mass protests. (As someone who has been to many protests, it always amuses me how little media portrayals of protests actually look like real-life protests). The power here is ambiguous, but it could be the woman with lighter skin.

11) Washer/Washee: This one is unique among the others, in that it’s two older men, one white and one black, sharing foot-washing space in a tub.
Setting: A house porch in a rural setting.
Background characters: A woman can be seen through the open window in what appears to be a kitchen. Another character is dimly visible behind the post.
Codes/tropes: Racial reconciliation. Again, this one is unique in its portrayal, but it reveals something important about the way the funders think about power. A black man washing a white man’s feet would too clearly replicate slavery. But a white man washing the black man’s feet would too clearly reveal who gets to be Jesus in this dynamic, directly exposing the White Christian Nationalism of the funders. This image may also be a reference to the famous Fred Rogers story.

12) Washer: A white male priest.
Washee: Possibly a young black gay man or nonbinary person, roller skates near by.
Setting: A beach.
Background characters: None.
Codes/tropes: Homophobia and church trauma. I’m sure the designers of the advertisement saved the most poignant and obvious for last, because one of the strategies of the campaign is to salvage the reputation of churches that have inflicted harm on LGBTQIA+ persons.

I want to contrast these images with the image below, which is from the pilot of the cult-hit television series Firefly. Although Joss Whedon, the creator of the series, is problematic in his depiction and treatment of women, I felt this scene from the show is more reflective of my own theology about Jesus. In it, an upper-class prostitute blesses a priest who is having a vocational crisis after falling in with the crew of the ship. Inara gets to “be Jesus” for Shepherd Book.

In my own theology, Jesus is always flipping the script. Outsiders often understand Jesus better than the insiders. Jesus tells his followers that the best place to find him is in prison, among the poor, or among the sick and disabled. Christians often think of themselves in the role of Jesus as “servant-leader,” washing the feet of people who are marginalized and thus demonstrating their Christ-like-ness. But Jesus identified himself as those people, not just a servant to them.

This is the sticking point for conservative evangelical theology in general, and White Christian Nationalism in particular — Jesus identifies himself with the people powerful Christians often reject. This makes the whole “washing feet” metaphor problematic, because it puts low-status people in the role of servants; yet they, and not the righteous religious people, are the ones with whom Jesus most closely identifies.

As a progressive pastor who has spent a lot of time undoing the damage that “bait-and-switch” evangelical megachurches have done to LGBTQIA+ persons and other Christians with more inclusive theology, I’m particularly sensitive to multi-million dollar ad campaigns funded by hate groups that intend to make evangelical Christianity more cuddly. It also rankles when Christians who profess to be moderates use spiritual bypassing to give this kind of messaging their approval.

The way we evaluate whether or not a message “gets” the Jesus who really gets us is this: Does it flip the script?

A Trinitarian Creed

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I reject God the Father All-Mighty,
Author of paternalism and patriarchy,
Abusive Head of the Household who beats his children,
and sends finite creatures to infinite misery 
for their failure to discern abstract theological ideas. 

But I believe in the Holy Parent, both Mother and Father,
Who births and raises creation,
Who teaches not with violence, but by telling stories and parables,
Who stands by the door waiting for exiled children to return home,
And who loves the whole cosmos so much
That God is willing to empty God’s self of all but love
To walk among us.  

I reject Jesus Christ as Lord,
As feudal liege who reifies hierarchies,
As tyrant emperor or king,
As eternally subordinate or standing at the top of any chain of being,
As a shibboleth used to discriminate 
who is in or out, saved or damned.

But I believe in Jesus, as Christ, 
Anointed as traveling preacher, healer, and exorcist in Galilee and Jerusalem,
Who bid us love immigrants, neighbors, and enemies as ourselves;
Who miraculously fed crowds,
Who taught an economics of grace instead of greed,
Who proclaimed that a new way of being was at hand,
Who called Students to learn and teach the Way of Love;
And who identified with those whom our systems impoverish,
Whom our governments leave unhoused,
Whom our legislators imprison.

I believe this Love is more powerful than both death
and those who use death to magnify their power. 
I believe this Love is eternally resurrecting
anyone we curse with death and damnation
until we learn that damning is futile
and until we repent
and choose restoration over retribution. 

I believe in the Holy Spirit,
who calls and equips communities of grace to carry on Jesus’s work
regardless of how humans label themselves or the systems that define their social power,
Who reveals God through God’s own creation 
and sacred texts and teachings of many diverse traditions
to any who are willing to seek,
Who moves and animates all life with God’s own breath. 

I believe that God creates communities of peace and justice
Who transgress the boundaries created by religious and political leaders,
Who disrupt and transform all systems that colonize and exploit
Who tear down barriers between all beings and Being,
Who respect the mystery of existence by walking humbly, doing justice, and loving kindness. 

And although our planet’s climate may have passed a tipping point, 
I believe we have also reached a tipping point for humanity,
and that although it is not yet apparent, 
The Reign of God is already among us.

Eden: A Parable

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Once upon a time, John and Richard were strolling through a garden planted by God. They saw hummingbirds sipping from flowers. Bees and butterflies zipped to and fro. They marveled at shrubs, mushrooms, amphibians, and the rich loam of the soil itself. They contemplated the many ways all the growing beings around them interacted with human life.

“Which of these growing things,” asked John, “should we make illegal?”

“The ones used for healing,” Richard replied.

Takiwasi, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Report: Aide says Nixon’s war on drugs targeted blacks, hippies (CNN, March 24, 2016):

Travel, Faith, and the Environment

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Travel and transportation are important parts of our faith story. The Bible story begins with Sarah and Abraham called to leave their home and travel to a new land. The story of the people of Israel is one of migration, settlement, and exile. Most of the gospel happens while Jesus is traveling by foot or by boat. Paul and his companions traveled all over the Mediterranean so much that Acts reads as one giant travelogue. Saint Brendan the Navigator set out to do missions work in a boat with no plan at all — only the resolve to go and preach the gospel wherever the wind took him.  

This should affect how we followers of Jesus think about travel. 

The flight from San Carlos to Mexico City to Berlin was the longest leg of our trip. Sixteen hours in the air. That’s a long time to be crammed into a tube, wearing a mask, with hundreds of other potential COVID carriers. I did feel as though we had stepped into a journey of biblical proportions. Even though we had the internet in our hands, it was still a leap of faith carrying only what we needed for a few nights’ stay. And though we packed light, I knew we’d be getting a workout since we planned to travel mostly by foot and public transit in Europe.

I also had some concerns that went beyond our own comfort. One of my goals on this trip was to explore travel itself, its ethics and its history. Air travel is one of the most environmentally damaging things we do as a species, and the airline industry is responsible for about 5% of global greenhouse gases. Many people who love the planet have sworn off air travel altogether. Since how the church handles climate change was one of the main questions I was exploring, I struggled with my own responsibility for climate change on this trip, especially since we’d be taking some very long flights. We resolved to buy carbon offsets for our journey with some of our grant funds. We sat down with some internet calculators and estimated our total carbon footprint for the two-and-a-half month journey, including planes, trains, and automobiles. (We would also wind up taking a ferry, but we didn’t anticipate that in our original calculations). 

Traveling with our gear on public transit in Berlin

There is an ongoing debate over whether carbon offsets actually work, or whether they are simply a form of greenwashing and conscience-soothing. I won’t go into a detailed argument here, but I felt that purchasing carbon offsets was a way for us to stay mindful of the impact of our choices during this trip. We felt it was important to try on a different lifestyle, to go car-free for most of our trip, to use our feet and public transit as much as possible. “Travel light” was our motto. For the next two months, apart from our plane flights, we would have a much lower carbon footprint than our usual lifestyle in the United States, which, unless you live within the city limits of a major metropolis, pretty much requires a car to participate fully in our society. According to our calculations, during our travels our carbon footprint would actually be less than our usual day-to-day lifestyle in the United States. 

Amazing cycling infrastructure in Berlin. Bikes were ubiquitous in Germany and France

Air travel is simply an example of the bind we are already in with regards to the climate: without long-term government policies to address sustainability, the only way to have a zero-impact lifestyle in our society is to either live in poverty or be extremely wealthy. If you are rich, you could certainly live off the grid and invest in solar panels, battery backup, and alternative transportation if you have hundreds of thousands of dollars to afford land, housing, and all the technology to do so. But usually it is the wealthy who contribute the most to greenhouse gas emissions by doing none of those things and taking many domestic flights for travel. Those of us flying coach on international flights are the lowest-impact air passengers. 

Graffiti on the Berlin Wall

But being able to afford such a flight at all still puts us in the upper percentages of global wealth. What is our individual responsibility? I recognize how fortunate and privileged I’ve been to travel the world by air, usually because people donated for mission trips or sponsored projects I was working on. This trip was paid for by a grant. We could never have afforded it on a small-church pastor’s salary. Yet I knew, staring over the ocean from several tens of thousands of feet in the air, that I was living like a king compared to most of the world. And from the perspective of global history, not just a king — like a god. Flight was only a dream a little over a century ago. Now, it’s routine—if you have the money. 

Amazing street art on the Berlin Wall outdoor gallery

This was also one reason I felt it was important for us to learn to sail. For centuries, wind power was the only way you could travel the world. It may be that wind power will be important in the centuries to come. Cargo shipping accounts for an even larger percentage of global greenhouse gas emissions than air travel. Every time we buy something, whether in a store or online in our globally-connected economy, we are pumping more money into this industry. Some cargo shipping companies are betting that we will return to sailing ships, but more massive, high-tech versions. 

As travel technology continues to change our relationships to time, space, and the planet, I think people of faith will need to be conscious of our responsibility. When Abraham and Sarah left Ur for the Promised Land, they were not just changing their location—they were changing the planet. May we be mindful of the way God is asking us to change. 

Prayer: God, help us to be mindful of the way our travel changes not just us, but the world we inhabit.

—Rev. Dr. David Barnhart, Jr. 

(You can support the ministry of Saint Junia United Methodist Church by clicking here.)

Steer Less, Anticipate More

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On a small sailing dinghy, like the one I learned to sail on when I was a teenager, you learn to feel the wind. With the mainsheet in one hand and the tiller in the other, you learn to balance the force of the wind against the resistance of the water. Adjust either the sheet or the tiller, and you can feel the pressure difference in the other. Your arms tell you when they are balanced. 

This is one of those major differences between what you can know with your mind and what you can know in your body. If I have to describe how sailing works with words, I say this: ”Boats can move against the wind because of the lift generated by the shape of the sail. Even though the wind may be in your face, you are pulled forward by the pressure differential.” Maybe you grasp this concept easily, but for me, it didn’t really make sense until I felt both the sail and the tiller pulling my hands, and I understood that in order to point the boat in the right direction, I had to balance those forces. 

I remember when it clicked. It was exhilarating. I was doing old-school magic, riding the boundary of these two elements, water and air. 

Not so with a big boat. The forces are too huge for you to manage them with your own strength. You cannot control the sails with your bare hands. It requires winches, a crew, and language. The idea here is not to balance the forces in your body, but to set the sails and rudder so that the boat steers itself.  

That’s why our instructor kept telling us, “steer less, anticipate more.” If you are the pilot, you cannot turn the wheel as if you are turning a car. If you move the wheel, it may take several seconds before you notice a change in direction — especially if the boat is bobbing and bouncing over the waves. I was also learning a different kind of body knowledge: the feel of the boat under my feet. How the boat slid down a wave could predict which way the bow would point several seconds later. I didn’t need to correct every change. I was learning to distinguish signal from noise. 

It’s good to have an engine on a big boat. Here, Angela participates in a lesson about diesel engines.
Our instructor doing maintenance on the rigging.

“Steer less, anticipate more”seems like good life advice, too. And good advice for the church. 

The early church often talked about the church as a sailboat and the Holy Spirit, the wind or “breath of God,” as the force that pushed the church forward. But I think She also pulls us forward. The waves of time, culture, and circumstance offer resistance, but somehow balancing these forces gives us a direction. Too often we are trying to steer the boat, fighting the waves while our sails flap in the breeze. 

Part of my rationale for taking this trip was to learn from history, to anticipate more of what’s coming for our culture and for the church. And, for myself, to steer less. After we earned our sailing certificate, we planned to go to Germany, to see where the Reformation kicked off and where, during World War 2, the world faced deep theological questions about the justice of God. 

Our last evening in San Carlos

Prayer: Help me to steer less and anticipate more, trusting in your Breath and the friction of the world to move me in the right direction.

—Rev. Dr. David Barnhart, Jr. 

(You can support the ministry of Saint Junia United Methodist Church by clicking here.)

The Difference Between “Uncharted” and “Unmapped”

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If you refer to a navigation “chart” as a “map,” a sailor will be quick to correct you. This isn’t just a preference for nautical jargon. A map represents landforms that are mostly still. (A geologist will tell you that land does move, but very, very slowly!) A chart, on the other hand, is “hydrodynamic,” and captures data about something that is always moving. The tides rise and fall, currents shift with the time of day and time of year. Charts refer to tables which give you the maximum and minimum height of tides by date, and charts require a lot of interpretation. A bridge which you may sail under easily at noon on Sunday may be an impassable barrier at noon on Monday. 

Dolphins joined us for a couple of days as we sailed in San Carlos
Leo and Angela aboard the Francis Lee in San Carlos

(Some people use map as a metaphor for the Bible. In this sense, I also prefer the chart metaphor, because it requires you to interpret it with reference to other information.)

The tides of San Carlos, where we learned to sail, were not as dynamic as in some parts of the world, where entire bays disappear as water follows the tug of the moon. It became clear as we learned more about charts why anchoring was one of the first skills taught to new sailors: where you choose to park your boat is a major safety issue. You could anchor in a place that seems safe, only to have the tide go out and leave your boat stuck on a sandbar. This could leave you listing dangerously to one side or even damage your boat. If you miscalculate, you could wait for months before a tide high rises enough to let you float free. Conversely, after you anchor, the tide could come in and lift your boat off of its secure anchor, setting you adrift while you sleep. Currents that shift with the tide can swing a poorly-placed boat into the path of its neighbors. 

St. Nicholas Island, a bird-poop encrusted rock that we had to sail around every time we left the bay. There were several other invisible rocks just under the surface of the water here. Click for video.

We’re dealing with tidal forces in the church these days, massive changes over which we have no control that make it difficult to know what safe harbor looks like. Climate change is a big one, and it’s one I’ve been trying to wake the church up to for years. But demographic, economic, and social change are other forces, currents that we have difficulty predicting. 

This is part of why I chose “uncharted waters” as the metaphor for my renewal leave. “Uncharted” doesn’t simply mean “we don’t have a map.” It means that the ocean we’re on is constantly shifting, and places that were safe and predictable in the past are no longer. We cannot see what’s just under the surface of the water, and our ignorance keeps us in a constant state of vigilance. “Uncharted” is far more perilous than “unmapped” because it’s not just about knowing what direction to go; it’s about knowing when, if ever, we can let our guard down. It’s one reason we are often so tired these days. 

Waves and rocks off the coast of Northern Ireland; click for video

Charts are not as important on the open ocean, where you can navigate by looking at the sky. It’s coastlands where charts become important: your departure and destination. 

It is astonishing to me how people without GPS have crossed oceans. Polynesian people navigated with little more than ancestral knowledge, the sky, and measurements taken with their hands. They sailed enormous distances across the Pacific Ocean generations before their European sailing counterparts crossed the much-smaller Atlantic. In the West, the history of navigation is bound up with colonialism and slavery, which are in turn bound up with the church and its history of mission. But I thought it would be important to look at all of it, to get the big picture, if I was going to understand what “navigating uncharted waters” means as a church. 

An interpretation of a Polynesian navigator using hand navigation at the Royal Maritime Museum in London. Illustration by Ashia Te Moananui.

On our trip, we made it a point to visit some important sites in the history of Atlantic navigation: Greenwich and the National Maritime Museum in London, the port cities of Nantes, France and Belfast, Ireland. We developed our itinerary around the history of the Reformation and the history of navigation. All of this was meant to help us understand our own moment in history, where we are sailing without a chart. 

The coast of Northern Ireland

Prayer: Help us navigate by the stars, and thank you for watchers who alert us to unseen hazards. Give us safe harbor and time and place to rest.

—Rev. Dr. David Barnhart, Jr. 

(You can support the ministry of Saint Junia United Methodist Church by clicking here.)

The Best Ocean View in the World

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Since COVID scuttled our original plans to sail in Greece, our alternative was a sailing school in San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico. This was a long way from Paul’s journeys in the Mediterranean! But we decided that since sailing was our theme, it was more important to have an understanding of how sailing works than to visit archeological sites. 

We gave ourselves a few days in San Carlos before our sailing school started, in order to get familiar with the restaurants and practice our Spanish. 

Hanging out at the hotel

San Carlos was voted by National Geographic to have the most spectacular ocean views in the world. So after settling into our lovely family-run hotel, we took a taxi to “El Mirador.” There is an observation point that juts out over the ocean, with views on every side. Below, birds wheel and coast in the air currents. At the tip of the point, the wind is so strong that visitors clutch their hats or phones. 

View from El Mirador

The twin peaks of Tetakawi are visible from anywhere nearby. It is striking how these massive rocks seem to change every hour, although they never move. The air, the light, the clouds, all paint the mountain in different colors and shades. It’s like a giant kaleidoscope. I understand why Claude Monet was moved to paint the Rouen Cathedral again and again in different light conditions. We found ourselves pointing and staring at it every day, multiple times a day. It’s like God was painting it over and over again, showing off a divine impressionism. 

The other ocean view we had during our time in San Carlos was up close and personal. Jacques Cousteau said that the Sea of Cortez was “The Aquarium of the World,” filled with marine biodiversity. People come to snorkel and see huge varieties of wildlife. Dolphins would come and swim alongside our boat, attracted by the wake (and the fact that we didn’t have noisy engines). There was one large group of females, and a couple of adorable baby dolphins, who sped along at our side. Various sea birds bobbed on the surface. We also got to see thousands of two-inch wide purple jellyfish: the Portuguese Man-o-war. We kept our distance from their sting. 

Humans throughout history have talked about the ocean in reverential tones. It is massive, powerful, teeming with life. It responds to cosmic forces like gravity and the spin of the earth. I think it is important to experience it from multiple vantage points to cultivate the appropriate respect. It’s alive, and it’s essential for our survival on this planet. 

The city of San Carlos has a large ex-pat population. Many Americans and Canadians move to San Carlos to sail or spend their retirement near the beach. Like many places around the world, there is a large gap between rich — or even the merely comfortable — and the poor.  

Sailing today is largely a hobby of the wealthy and middle-class, not a vital transportation mode for everyone. But this shift in global dynamics is driven by “cheap oil.” Of course, we know that fossil fuels are not really cheap; they are deferred cost which will have to be paid by future generations. I suspect that as wind and solar power become more mainstream, gas-guzzling boats will give way to more sail power. Shipping companies are already going “back to the future” by exploring wind power. Part of my desire to become more proficient at sailing is simply to have a method of travel that doesn’t require airplane or boat fuel.

We were able to get experience on three very different boats: a single-mast 26-foot boat, a vintage two-masted ketch, and a very large catamaran (which our instructor called “a floating condo”). 

Having the skills to sail suddenly opens up a new world of opportunities for travel. Boat captains are often looking for crew to help them make journeys, and there are websites that match teams by personality, skills, and destinations. While I don’t plan on making any trans-Atlantic trips anytime soon, I certainly wouldn’t rule it out. There is much more of this amazing planet to see. 

Prayer: God who paints the landscapes, cosmos, and creatures, thank you for filling the universe with such beauty.

—Rev. Dr. David Barnhart, Jr. 

The Boat and the Crew

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In the fall of 2019, before the pandemic hit, we were scheduled to take our sailing class the following June in Greece. I was excited to get our curriculum package in the mail! I opened up a large folder full charts, and unwrapped the protractor and the navigation divider. I had seen these in movies, but had never used one.


Image description: Sailing curriculum including a workbook, notebook, clear plastic protractor, and navigation dividers.

But before we got to navigation, we needed to learn the basics. The first section of our curriculum was about the parts of a sailboat. And right here, in the first few pages of our workbook, I found one of my most important lessons. The V-shaped part of the boat above the bow is called the pulpit — the same word that describes the place in a church where a preacher delivers a sermon.

(It’s also the place where, in the movie Titanic, Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslett shout and stretch out their arms into the wind. I’ll talk more about the Titanic and how it fits into “sailing uncharted waters” when I tell you about our time in Belfast, where the Titanic was built).

An illustration of the parts of a sailboat. The pulpit and pushpit are highlighted.

Churches have often used the metaphor of a sailboat to describe their community. At certain early Christian pilgrimage sites, you can often find graffiti of a boat carved into a stone wall or bit of plaster. After the early church stopped meeting in homes and started meeting in dedicated buildings, congregations referred to the main sanctuary as the nave, as in “navy,” because the vaulted ceiling looked like the ribs of a boat. They imagined the pews as seats in a galley, and the congregation as the rowers. The pulpit resembled the bow of a boat. 


An ornate Baroque pulpit is preserved in a modern church in Erfurt, Germany. Erfurt is where Martin Luther was a monk. We visited Erfurt in June, 2022

Above: a panorama of the vaulted ceiling of St. Canice’s Cathedral in Kilkenny, Ireland. Though it is distorted, you can clearly see the bit that looks like an upside-down boat above the nave.

But I realized an important church-related truth in this sailboat diagram: you don’t steer a boat from the pulpit. You steer it from the pushpit (or the cockpit), in the rear (or stern) of the boat. The person in front is not necessarily the person who is running the show. 

I think the early church communities understood, even after they began to become more institutionalized, that the clergy were not the only people in charge. See, it takes a lot of coordination to make a sailing vessel move. A boat probably has a captain, but a person on watch stands in the pulpit to see where the boat is going or to take bearings. A pilot stands in the rear to move the wheel or rudder and call out to the crew controlling the sails. A navigator takes measurements to make sure the boat is on course. 

And early church theologians talked about the Holy Spirit, like a wind or the breath of God, being the power that filled the sails and actually moved the church forward. 

When people talk about the church today, they typically talk about it as an institution or a business. I’ve heard people say “the church should be a hospital for sinners instead of a museum for saints,” which is true enough. But I wonder how it would change our perception if our main metaphor for church was not a static building or an institution, but something that actually moved under the power of wind or spirit. I wonder what would change if we traded our binary model of “leader” and “follower” for terms like captain, pilot, watchman, navigator, and crew. 


I snapped this photo in the Royal Observatory in London, England, in July. This is an exhibit about how the museum would curate exhibits in the future, considering England’s history of world colonization and the harm it has caused. I’ll return to this image, and how colonization plays into my sailing metaphor, later in my reflections.
Image description: A line drawing of a sailboat, with diverse crew. Large text reads “Our Guiding Concepts.” Banners on the boat read: habitability, adaptability, adversity, ingenuity, practicality, creativity, community, equality, identity. 

Prayer: Jesus who stills the storms, help us to be your competent crew. 

—Rev. Dr. David Barnhart, Jr. 

An Interrupted Journey

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The Church of Magdala, on the Sea of Galilee, featuring a striking boat altar. Personal photo, 2019.

Since we’re in one of these “Five-hundred year rummage sales” where all our old ideas and values are being reevaluated, I thought it would be a good idea to look at past rummage sales. Two thousand years ago (or four rummage sales ago), when a small group of Jesus-followers started spreading his message, the new movement met in peoples’ homes. The early movement called themselves “ecclesia,” or “the called-out ones.” This usually gets translated as “church,” but the old name, ecclesia, implies that this new community would be an alternative to religion as usual. Many of those house church leaders were women, and Paul names them: Chloe, Nyssa, Junia, Lydia, and others. They were explicitly egalitarian and inclusive. Paul wrote “there is no longer Jew or Greek, enslaved or free, male and female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28).

Paul and his companions sailed around the Mediterranean, networking these new communities and doing what we might today call “community organizing.” He was trying to get several different communities to cooperate as one. 

This history is one reason I chose “sailing uncharted waters” as my proposal theme. The early ecclesia had no idea where the future would take them. There was no chart. They had no idea what hazards lay ahead, or who might try to hijack their movement. They did not know how the currents and tides of history might move their boat off course. 

Boats, of course, were an important symbol in the early church. Jesus preached from a boat, stilled the storm on the Lake of Galilee, and hung out with fishermen. 

My first experience with sailboats was when I was a teenager. My parents bought a single-sail 14-foot dinghy and we learned to sail on Alabama lakes. But in 2019, in order to get a sense of what the leaders of the early church faced, I decided I needed to learn how to sail on the sea. Part of my proposal would include sailing lessons. We made a plan that included sailing on the Mediterranean and visits to Greek archeological sites where Paul met with early church leaders. 

But after my proposal was accepted and I received the grant for my renewal project, the pandemic hit. We had to cancel our plans. I wasn’t just disappointed. I was heartbroken. But I realized that plagues have also been part of the “uncharted waters” that church and society have faced in past centuries. We know that pandemics will occur more regularly in the future as our climate changes. Perhaps it was fitting that my journey began with an interruption. I realized that we really are sailing uncharted waters. 

Prayer: God, our Guardian and Guide, you are with us on the journey, even when we are standing still.

—Rev. Dr. David Barnhart, Jr.