Careful What You Wish For

The First Amendment to the United States Constitution says, “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” In 1925 the U. S. Supreme Court ruled that this applies also to state and local governments. It seems fairly simple.

The framers of our government were a religiously plural group of people who had long since rejected the tyranny of state-sponsored religion in Europe, and had moved far and away from the blurred lines of religion and government in Puritan New England. Religious freedom is risky, as can be demonstrated by the actions of people like Jim Jones, David Koresh, or even the KKK. But one may not violate civil law in the practice of religion. Jesus taught his followers to “render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s,” a principle we follow every time we pay our taxes.

That being said, the First Amendment is facing new challenges on the streets of lower Manhattan. A group of Islamic American citizens have purchased the site of a former Burlington Coat Factory store on Park Place, about two and a half city blocks from the site of the World Trade Center. On that site they wish to open a community center, a plan that has been approved by the city of New York. The plan has ignited a firestorm of political and cultural hysteria, making it necessary for us to think clearly about what it means to be a progressive, open, and affirming church.

Emotions will always run high with regard to what happened nine years ago. Our nation was attacked by extremists from other parts of the globe who assimilated themselves into American culture, enough so that they were able to get training in flight schools and subsequently turn airliners into weapons of mass destruction. It was an unbelievably horrible act, an aggressive act of war. That is without question.

Yet, it is even more disheartening to see what we have allowed this act to do to us. Do we now live in a society that reveres cable news at the expense of the Constitution? When will we realize that peace-loving Americans who practice Islam enjoy the same protection under the law as Hindus, Buddhists, Jews, Catholics, Unitarians, and Protestants–including Congregationalists? If we are saying that an Islamic center cannot be built in lower Manhattan, then what right has Trinity Church to exist there? What about the mosques, synagogues, churches, and other places of worship in the same vicinity? If we limit the rights of others then we must be prepared to surrender our own.

Jesus said, “Peace, I leave with you. My peace I give to you.” If we indeed call ourselves “Christians,” then let us follow the practice of Jesus whose compassion stretched across religious, cultural and ethnic boundaries. He did not “racially profile” the Samaritans, and neither should we.

Back from Exile

For reasons I do not always understand, I seem to be drawn to the stories of exile that surface in our prophetic texts. It’s like the Hebrew sages were composing musical dramas to reflect the despair of a displaced people–a people having bid farewell to the familiar. Life is a journey, not a camp-out, and like the ancient Hebrews I suspect American Christians were never meant to live statically.

Over the second half of the twentieth century the “protestant mainline” experienced its own exile. It was a giddy ecumenical optimism after World War II that gave birth to unifying movements in several denominations like the United Church of Christ. In a prosperous society that seemed to have no limits, what could prevent us from success? Our sanctuaries were full; our Sunday schools were flooded by an unprecedented baby boom. We built it and they came; it was so easy and it worked so well–for a minute or two.

But we were unprepared for the societal panic that ensued with political assassinations, a lengthy and ill-defined war followed by a collapse of trust in our government. It was in this swirl of turmoil that the religious right offered a ray of hope. Whatever one may say about their substance, they at least offered structure. As a young teenager trying to make sense of a tumultuous world without, and hoping to settle an unsettled sexuality within, why would I not “accept Jesus as my personal savior” and cast all these burdens elsewhere? I could jump on this bandwagon and escape all of my inherent wrongness.

But at 15 my idea of a strong and growing faith was in reality a sanctified naivete. The stage was set for huge mid-life upheavals the aftermath of which brought me back to my mainline roots. In my absence I found that the Christianity of my childhood had sputtered and struggled against a world that did not fit its optimistic agenda. While a faithful remnant stayed behind in cavernous worship spaces, the rest of the folks just found us to be irrelevant. They moved on. Somehow we were hoping they’d all find their way back. Most of them didn’t.

New generations are not interested in easy answers to complex problems. They hunger for real spiritual practice. They look for causes they can whole-heartedly support. They want to see the gospel of Christ in real and human terms and not just “pie in the sky” for an eternal future. They do not care about our labels, our theological discourse, or our buildings. If the gospel of Christ is meaningful to us, then they want us to prove it in our practice and stop hanging onto hope for what “was.” It is time to emerge, to get on our mark and be set to run a race that has long been postponed.

The Maine Thing

This week the “Maine Thing” has become something of a main thing.  By referendum, Maine voters narrowly overturned a piece of legislation that had already been signed into law by the state’s governor.   The legislation extended equal marriage rights to same-sex couples, but was delayed pending the outcome of the people’s vote.  No one should be naïve enough to think that this question is settled.  The people of Maine are evenly split, meaning that the debate far from over.   I do not live in Maine, and I cannot say that I know anyone who does.  Nonetheless, I am left feeling uneasy about what has transpired there. 

I am not a politician and I have never considered myself an activist.   As a minister in the United Church of Christ, I am more likely to move within the realms of Word and Sacrament than with civil government and legislation.   My pulpit is not of the bullying variety.  I consider it a sacred desk, a place where I stand and proclaim with confidence the “law” of Christ which teaches us to love God and one another.   When I meet my congregants at the communion table it is not with a political agenda.  I am there in covenant with my own denomination and with the “church universal” to model the love of Christ.   Beyond that, it is up to each individual to apply the Christian ethic to our own political ideals.  This is quite simply how I operate.

Having said all of that, I must also say that my own political ideals are informed by the moral and spiritual imperatives of my faith.  I believe that within the structures of our multi-cultural society there are moral obligations to practice things like mutual respect, justice, fairness, and equality.  These are ideals shared to some degree by people of many faiths, and our uniquely American pluralism calls us to meet in agreement wherever and whenever we can.  

The conviction to do so has seen us through the abolition of slavery and the cruelty of civil war.  It has seen us extend voting rights to women and point out the evils of segregation.   Civil rights have been extended to many, but sadly not to all.  This is why the struggle continues, and why the “Maine Thing” will be repeated again and again until “liberty and justice for all” prevails.   Gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered citizens remain segregated in our culture.  It may not be at the water fountain, on a bus, or at a lunch counter.  This time it is in city hall, in the hospital emergency room, in the policies of employers and health insurers, and in the innumerable other places that same-gender partners are denied access to the same rights the rest of society takes for granted. 

To the voters of Maine, or those of California, or of any other state in the Union, my questions are simple.  How can my commitment to another human being have any bearing upon yours?   How can my love for my partner be of any concern to you one way or another?   How can you say that your commitments are uniquely “sacred” when half of them end in divorce?  Why would you presume to place my relationship in a separate and unequal category of “civil union” as if to say that I am incapable of pledging my love and fidelity or of establishing my home and family in a way that meets your standard?   

I have at least a thousand questions like that, and I intend to ask them continually for as long as I need to.  If that makes me an activist then I will gladly wear the label.

Pluralism, Politics, and Patriotism

Within the arsenals of our 21st century culture wars are some potent verbal weapons. One of them is the word “patriotism.” In the heat of political campaigns or town-hall meetings, it is a common thing to label one’s opponents as “unpatriotic.” Most invoke this concept rather thoughtlessly without consideration for its historic meaning. It is quite possible to be found in the cross-hairs of those who would homogenize us into one narrow philosophical view of the idea.

Often we are asked to seamlessly connect “God and Country” as though this nation has ever been thoroughly Christian. It has not; nor was it intended to be. Our nation’s founders crafted our civic life in a religiously, politically, and culturally plural way, because they themselves were religiously, politically, and culturally plural. Against that backdrop it is possible to be Islamic and at the same time thoroughly and authentically American. Adherents of Judaism can be true patriots, as can Christians or Buddhists or those who have not yet settled into a single path.

The tendency to equate Christian faith and American “exceptionalism” is a relatively new phenomenon. There are many things that make us distinctively American. One of those better known distinctions is that we have historically preferred to keep our civil and religious matters separate. Would this not make the urge to link them seem unpatriotic? One might think so.

As a Christian I look for ways to follow the example of Christ. As an American I look for ways to live out American ideals. At times they intersect. For example, Jesus’ blessing upon the peacemakers does not preclude the right of dissent. When I read about the purveyors of the Boston Tea Party, it evokes memories of a radical dissenter who stormed into the courts of the temple, yelling, throwing things, and knocking over tables. Those who acted in protest against the Stamp Act were in essence peacemakers themselves, because they exercised their rights of expression and dissent–rights which live in us to this very day.

Pluralism is by nature patriotic, and I am grateful to have been blessed by the Creator to have been born in a land that honors those principles of freedom, principles that have that have made room at the table for every one of us to join regardless of who we are, where we’ve been, or where we might be going.

Healthy, Honest, Helpful

Perhaps if you are old enough you might remember an episode of the old television program, “I Love Lucy,” one in which Ricky made a bet with Lucy that she could not tell the absolute truth for a specific–though brief–period of time. The idea was great fodder for the script writers, and there were some hilarious but predictable mishaps as Lucy found herself forced to give her real opinion about everything from the ridiculous hat one of her friends was wearing to the ill behavior of another friend’s child. When finally rebuffed for her excessive candor, Lucy countered that she had never felt better.

There are some real benefits to telling the truth. Of course, there are times when decorum and good taste might prevent us from sharing everything we think. Who besides a comedy writer would suggest that one’s every thought should be expressed in unrestrained speech? On the flip side, honest and forthright communication might not only be the healthy thing to do; as it turns out, it is also biblical.

Paul the Apostle was often reminiscent of his Jewish heritage when he encouraged believers of the early Mediterranean churches to “speak truth” with their neighbors. Jesus himself taught his earliest followers that if someone offended them, they should go and speak to that person one on one. Healthy patterns of communication are as vital to the mission and work of the gospel as they are to the success of any marriage, or for that matter to the working of our systems of justice or international diplomacy.

It seems simple enough, but it isn’t always. Rather than confronting someone face to face, it seems just a little bit easier to talk to someone else about it first. It’s kind of like a fresh jelly donut sitting next to a Brussels sprout. The donut is much sweeter, the aroma more tempting, and the gratification more instantaneous. It’s just easier! There is sweetness in an affirmation when someone nods agreement with what we have said.

A wise soul once defined gossip as the imparting of information, whether true or false, to someone who is neither part of the problem nor part of the solution to the problem. I don’t suppose that any one of us has ever understood the power of our own words; power to build or to destroy. And I don’t suppose that anyone has ever learned this lesson in any way but the hard way.

Paul’s vision for the church was one of a healthy body working together like a symphony of muscles, joints and ligaments. Healthy speech is the strengthening exercise of that body, and the beauty of it is that the more we do it, the easier it gets!

Everything Old Is New Again

It has been said that for every year we live, a single year becomes a smaller percentage of the life that we have lived. This idea supports the perception that the older we get the more quickly time passes. Perception at times defies explanation, but this is one that might work.

Through the magic of cable news, the passing of Senator Kennedy has occasioned another tsunami of historic images–images that bring us a nostalgic connection with our own past. Every photograph or newsreel seems to call us to a moment in our own lives when the world was different. And so were we.

Those of us who engage in parish ministry jump on a slowly moving train like some sort of spiritual drifter moving from one place to another. What we often fail to understand is that the journey has begun long before we hopped on. It will continue far past the location from which we depart it. For the duration of our “ride” we place our particular stamp upon the historic images that other generations will view with only slight curiosity. It is interesting to look at the past. Our history gives us a sense of where we’ve been, but it only begins to live when we find our own blueprint for a new future.

Our predecessors at North Church took bold steps of faith during the Great Depression to respond to the needs of the world around them. In the waning days of the Roaring 20’s, the North End of Middletown, New York was a burgeoning community of railroad workers and their families, a lively bustling industrial area that needed a spiritual center. Today that same neighborhood is bustling with the pulse of ethnic, racial, and religious diversity, a place where English is perhaps a second language, a place sadly lacking in terms of industry or employment, but one that still needs a spiritual center.

To re-create the North Church that “was” is an exercise in futility. In order to do that we would need to return to the Middletown that “was.” Each generation must take bold steps to address the possible irrelevance of what we do. For the Congregationalists in the North End eighty years ago, it meant climbing a high hill with stones and mortar to create a space from which to express some Good News. It meant becoming a social center and an environment where struggling parents found help and hope as they raised their young ones in an uncertain world. It was a place that reminded them that there was something greater, something outside of themselves that gave them meaning in a world that was turned upside down through economic hardship and another world war.

This is a day of new beginnings, time to remember and move on . . . . The world that “was” may seem to be gone, but human need is the same as it has always been. The gospel is no longer housed in stones and mortar where people put on their Sunday best and climb the steps. The Good News is alive and well and its presence is known in a “tweet” on Twitter, or in a Facebook status entry. Ancient truths live just as comfortably in cyberspace as they do in a wooden pulpit. It’s not a matter of “either/or.” It is a “both/and.”

Identity and Inclusion

     Emergent Christians are known for an inclusive message, one that invites everyone to the table; one that affirms many journeys and experiences. The affirmation of these other journeys, however, does not preclude a sense of one’s own identity. While we affirm the rights of others to hold positions that differ from our own, we do not surrender our own affirmations.
    “Here we stand” can be misinterpreted to mean “We’re right and you’re wrong; we’re good and you’re bad.” An “us vs. them” mentality is not a constructive way to engage with those who disagree. It is not a contest to see who can score the most points. It is not a matter of who has the most persuasive debate. It is finding the validity of one’s own journey and the living of that journey in an authentic and faithful way.
     I affirm, respect, and honor the rights of others to hold ideas that differ from my own, but that does not imply that I affirm their conclusions; only that it is their privilege to have them.   I affirm, respect, and honor freedom of speech, and as others speak freely I will also.

Progressive, Inclusive Gospel

     Progressive Christianity begs the big questions. What is God calling us to do in this community? How do we bring renewal to an aging congregation? What is the best stewardship of our building, our resources, our traditions, and our heritage? How do we overcome the odds and begin to turn the corner? Do we just maintain the status quo until we run out of people and resources or do we create something entirely new? What is that new thing and how do we do it?
     A related question might be, “What kind of gospel do we preach?” Is it one that is inclusive, and do we open our doors to our “neighbor” who might be of a different culture, language, or personal challenge? Are we ready and willing to invite all people to the table as full partners in ministry without regard to religious background, sexual orientation, gender, or socio-economic status?
     Our faith community has partially answered that question by beginning a process of discernment with a view to adopting a statement that will qualify us as an Open and Affirming congregation in the United Church of Christ. Initiative for this process has orginiated from the pews rather than the pulpit. It expresses a desire to reach a hand of fellowship toward those who feel disenfranchised by other faith communities for any reason at all. Though the current discussion involves specific issues related to the gay-lesbian-bisexual-transgendered community, the work of openness and affirmation embraces much more than that. It has to do with removing any and all barriers to a broadly diverse and multi-cultural community. For progressive, emergent Christians this is a vital mission and one that we embrace with conviction.
     Some will say that such a discussion is motivated by a political agenda. There is indeed an agenda, but it is rather one of justice, peace, morality, and witness. Jesus spoke of a man who was beaten, robbed and left for dead by the side of the road. First a priest and then a Levite walked past, and when they saw him lying there in each instance they passed by on the far side of the road to avoid any contact with him. Finally a Samaritan, a person of mixed background from a different culture and possibly a somewhat divergent religious practice, stopped and tended to the man’s wounds. Once he had bandaged him, he placed him in an inn and paid for his lodging for an important time of recovery and healing.
     Between the Samaritan and the injured man there was never a question of background or human condition; only a need that was met by one who took seriously the command to care for one’s neighbor as one would care for one’s self. The good news is that it is just . . .that . . . simple.