Signposts or Endorsements
September 25, 2008
Psalm 146;
I don’t know if you’ve seen this, but there’s a group of conservative evangelicals who have declared today “pulpit freedom Sunday,” and they are making explicit endorsements of political candidates, including for president of the United States, from their pulpits during worship this morning.
I suppose it’s not too surprising that a faith movement that has almost completely aligned itself with a political movement would do this; indeed, the only surprising thing would be if any of these pastors stand up this morning and say, “God is not a Republican … or a Democrat.” The only thing more surprising than that would be if one of them should say, “you should vote for Barack Obama for president.” Now that would be a surprise.
When I read about this, I visited the web sites of the various sponsoring organizations. I was thinking about the various issues and concerns facing the nation and those who would lead it: financial crisis, 50 million uninsured, two wars. I wondered, will I find anything about peace and about serving the least of these the victims of financial and health insurance systems that have failed them. To my sadness if not my surprise, I found nothing about any of those issues, but a whole lot about personal sexual morality of a certain conservative bent that is far more Victorian than Biblical.
As I took all of this in – political endorsements from pulpits, the issue foci of the organizations – I pondered again the wisdom of the Psalmist: do not put your faith in leaders whose plans come and go like the wind. Moreover, I pondered, again, the central question of who we are called to be as a people whose faith is supposed to be in something larger and deeper than the particular issues and candidates for office who are before us at any given moment – even one as critical as the present moment.
In particular, what does it mean to be the church progressive, inclusive and diverse in such a moment, if first and foremost it means that our faith is in some larger and deeper and less transient than issues and candidates?
Last spring the session of this congregation embarked on a broad effort to lead the church in refocusing its mission. We want you to be part of this process and the various survey instruments we’ve asked you to fill out are the first step in the journey.
For the remains of the liturgical year – right up to the beginning of Advent this December – we’re going to take steps together during worship that, I hope and trust, will lead us into a common language about our common faith and how we ought best express it as Clarendon Presbyterian Church in this first decade of the 21st century.
What has this to do with political endorsements? Well, nothing … and everything.
Nothing, because we’re really not going to touch too much on the narrow political issues of the day -- even as we acknowledge how important some of them are right now.
And everything, because this common language of faith, the deeply held practices of Christian life, shape and inform the way we look at the world. They shape and inform the way we make judgments about the world and the ways in which we express those judgments. In other words, these deeply held practices of Christian life shape our deepest values, and those deepest values shape – our, at least, ought to shape – the way we think about the shaping of the broader community and society. In other words, our faith ought to inform our politics – not in any narrow and partisan way, but in an insistence that the things Jesus cared about – or, more accurately – the people Jesus cared about be at the forefront of our politics.
Nothing, then, and everything to do with endorsements.
So let me offer up my endorsement this morning ….
And you thought I was reaching for a yard sign or a button!
No, I’m endorsing a book this morning, and, moreover, I’m endorsing the practices of Christian faith that its author endorses.
For the past six months or so, various small groups here have read this book, Christianity for the Rest of Us. The book group read it, the Lenten CALL group read it, and session has been reading it.
It comes out of the growing renewal movement within mainline Protestant churches in North America – in other words, out of the experience of hundreds of congregations with whom we share a deep-rooted heritage from the best of liberal theology of the 20th century and the emerging prophetic voice resounding from just such churches, including this one, in our new century.
My endorsement of Diana Butler Bass’s book comes with a proposal and promise and a challenge.
The proposal is that we follow the lead of this work during our season of mission refocusing. In other words, as we look at what we do well and what we could do better, let’s us the ten practices of faith, or ten characteristics shared by vital progressive congregations that Bass identifies and explores in this book.
The promise is that I will focus my preaching and our Sunday-morning worship on these practices or characteristics from now till Advent.
The challenge is that you engage this material as well. Pick up a copy of the book – it’s widely available, including in our new church library. Consider the faith practices presented here, and explore them through other sources of information and reflections on them. Consider how we, as a congregation, might more fully articulate our faith through these practices.
It should come as no great surprise that we are already doing many of the things named here – some of them quite well, others just barely. The surveys we have been doing will help us bring to greater light what it is we do well and what we need to work on.
One of the things we do a lot of here happens to be the first characteristic Bass names: hospitality.
This is nothing new under the sun. On more than one occasion, I have heard Peg True tell the story of being a young girl here and coming to church one snowy Sunday morning, only to encounter a large drift blocking her way. One of the men of the church, without a word, scooped her up and lifted her over the snow. A simple gesture of welcome.
I know that I come here on Sunday mornings looking forward to greeting Woody at the door and being greeted by him – another simple gesture of welcome.
I look forward to seeing each of you every week and to enjoy the warmth of this fellowship marked by so many simple gestures of welcome.
As I look around the place – and I mean the physical space now – I am simply amazed at how remarkably it has been transformed by your hard work and generosity over the past five years. I remember walking through this building in January of 2003 – so much of it was dark and dreary. Now it is filled with light and life, and we are experiencing a bit of what I’ll call “Field of Dreams” theology: if you build it – or, at least repaint it, they will come. In other words, create a space that is welcoming and inviting and people will want to spend time in it.
All of that is good and right and as it should be, but it falls short of authentic Christian hospitality. For thus far we have managed to transform the space, but we have not ourselves been transformed.
As Diana Butler Bass puts it in Christianity for the Rest of Us, “hospitality changes both the guest and the host.”
Hospitality is transformative not because of the welcoming space that a host creates – although that is not unimportant. Hospitality is important because of where it focuses our deepest attentions. This is the lesson of the quirky little tale of Mary and Martha. Martha is busily transforming the space, and contrary to some readings of the story, she is not condemned for the choice. Nevertheless, Jesus makes it clear that Mary’s focus is more important: she is focused on welcoming the guest, welcoming Jesus, into not merely her physical space, but into her heart.
As Joan Chittister puts it, “hospitality means we take people into the space that is our lives and our minds and our hearts and our work and our efforts. Hospitality is the way we come out of ourselves.”
We’ve been together now for more than five years in this shared ministry, so we can be completely honest with each other. We say, every single week, week after week after week, that all are welcome in this place. The mission statement that appears each and every week on our bulletin is a statement of hospitality. When we respond, in the liturgy that we’ve been using for a while now, to the assurance of pardon, we speak of God’s wildly inclusive love. That is a statement of God’s hospitality. We believe that God is radically welcoming and that we should be, too.
But too often we do not want to come out of ourselves and risk being, ourselves, transformed in the practice of hospitality.
There are lots of reasons for this, but in the end, it usually comes down to one simple thing: fear.
Acts of hospitality involve risks in the face of strangers. Our egos can feel at stake: maybe she won’t like me. Our positions can feel at stake: may he’ll question my authority. Our relationships can feel at stake: maybe she’ll like her better than she likes me. Our safety can feel at stake: maybe they will hurt me.
The truth is, all of these risks may be genuine sometimes.
But the deeper truth is this: the opposite of faith is not wrong belief; the opposite of faith is fear.
This is where hospitality becomes a question of Christian practice. We are called to faith, to trust. We are called to be open to the presence of Christ in the face of the stranger. We are called, in the way of the Quakers, to seek that which is of God in everyone we meet. We are called to trust that the light of the Creator dwells in each creature.
Moreover, we are called to let that light within us shine out upon everyone we meet. In this interplay, we are opened to the presence of God and, thus, open to the possibility of our own transformation.
So, as we work together these days to hear God calling us to renewal, practice a radical openness here. Welcome the stranger in our midst. Seek out the stranger beyond our walls and be open to the possibility that we are called, by the stranger, to be transformed.
I wish I could spell this out with clarity. I wish I could offer a blueprint here. But I cannot. I can only urge this openness and promise a renewed effort to practice it myself. Together, let us risk living more fully into the commitment made here long, long ago, to be a place of radical welcome where we worship a God who welcomes us all.
I began with the suggestion that there is a connection between the practices of our faith and the values we take from it into the public square. Hospitality is a perfect example, for, in the end, it is not so much an individual virtue or private piety as it is an orientation to the world. As such, it becomes a lens through which to ask questions of such things as, say, immigration policy or, in terms of the crisis de jour, a financial crisis whose solution may well determine who gets to stay in their home and who doesn’t.
Obviously, such judgments are incredibly difficult, which, in the end, is why the actions of certain conservative pastors this morning are of questionable political wisdom. Moreover, the suggestion that only one party reflects Biblical values, is more than questionable – not only in terms of the values of the Constitution but, more to the point, in terms of the values of our faith.
Psalm 146;
I don’t know if you’ve seen this, but there’s a group of conservative evangelicals who have declared today “pulpit freedom Sunday,” and they are making explicit endorsements of political candidates, including for president of the United States, from their pulpits during worship this morning.
I suppose it’s not too surprising that a faith movement that has almost completely aligned itself with a political movement would do this; indeed, the only surprising thing would be if any of these pastors stand up this morning and say, “God is not a Republican … or a Democrat.” The only thing more surprising than that would be if one of them should say, “you should vote for Barack Obama for president.” Now that would be a surprise.
When I read about this, I visited the web sites of the various sponsoring organizations. I was thinking about the various issues and concerns facing the nation and those who would lead it: financial crisis, 50 million uninsured, two wars. I wondered, will I find anything about peace and about serving the least of these the victims of financial and health insurance systems that have failed them. To my sadness if not my surprise, I found nothing about any of those issues, but a whole lot about personal sexual morality of a certain conservative bent that is far more Victorian than Biblical.
As I took all of this in – political endorsements from pulpits, the issue foci of the organizations – I pondered again the wisdom of the Psalmist: do not put your faith in leaders whose plans come and go like the wind. Moreover, I pondered, again, the central question of who we are called to be as a people whose faith is supposed to be in something larger and deeper than the particular issues and candidates for office who are before us at any given moment – even one as critical as the present moment.
In particular, what does it mean to be the church progressive, inclusive and diverse in such a moment, if first and foremost it means that our faith is in some larger and deeper and less transient than issues and candidates?
Last spring the session of this congregation embarked on a broad effort to lead the church in refocusing its mission. We want you to be part of this process and the various survey instruments we’ve asked you to fill out are the first step in the journey.
For the remains of the liturgical year – right up to the beginning of Advent this December – we’re going to take steps together during worship that, I hope and trust, will lead us into a common language about our common faith and how we ought best express it as Clarendon Presbyterian Church in this first decade of the 21st century.
What has this to do with political endorsements? Well, nothing … and everything.
Nothing, because we’re really not going to touch too much on the narrow political issues of the day -- even as we acknowledge how important some of them are right now.
And everything, because this common language of faith, the deeply held practices of Christian life, shape and inform the way we look at the world. They shape and inform the way we make judgments about the world and the ways in which we express those judgments. In other words, these deeply held practices of Christian life shape our deepest values, and those deepest values shape – our, at least, ought to shape – the way we think about the shaping of the broader community and society. In other words, our faith ought to inform our politics – not in any narrow and partisan way, but in an insistence that the things Jesus cared about – or, more accurately – the people Jesus cared about be at the forefront of our politics.
Nothing, then, and everything to do with endorsements.
So let me offer up my endorsement this morning ….
And you thought I was reaching for a yard sign or a button!
No, I’m endorsing a book this morning, and, moreover, I’m endorsing the practices of Christian faith that its author endorses.
For the past six months or so, various small groups here have read this book, Christianity for the Rest of Us. The book group read it, the Lenten CALL group read it, and session has been reading it.
It comes out of the growing renewal movement within mainline Protestant churches in North America – in other words, out of the experience of hundreds of congregations with whom we share a deep-rooted heritage from the best of liberal theology of the 20th century and the emerging prophetic voice resounding from just such churches, including this one, in our new century.
My endorsement of Diana Butler Bass’s book comes with a proposal and promise and a challenge.
The proposal is that we follow the lead of this work during our season of mission refocusing. In other words, as we look at what we do well and what we could do better, let’s us the ten practices of faith, or ten characteristics shared by vital progressive congregations that Bass identifies and explores in this book.
The promise is that I will focus my preaching and our Sunday-morning worship on these practices or characteristics from now till Advent.
The challenge is that you engage this material as well. Pick up a copy of the book – it’s widely available, including in our new church library. Consider the faith practices presented here, and explore them through other sources of information and reflections on them. Consider how we, as a congregation, might more fully articulate our faith through these practices.
It should come as no great surprise that we are already doing many of the things named here – some of them quite well, others just barely. The surveys we have been doing will help us bring to greater light what it is we do well and what we need to work on.
One of the things we do a lot of here happens to be the first characteristic Bass names: hospitality.
This is nothing new under the sun. On more than one occasion, I have heard Peg True tell the story of being a young girl here and coming to church one snowy Sunday morning, only to encounter a large drift blocking her way. One of the men of the church, without a word, scooped her up and lifted her over the snow. A simple gesture of welcome.
I know that I come here on Sunday mornings looking forward to greeting Woody at the door and being greeted by him – another simple gesture of welcome.
I look forward to seeing each of you every week and to enjoy the warmth of this fellowship marked by so many simple gestures of welcome.
As I look around the place – and I mean the physical space now – I am simply amazed at how remarkably it has been transformed by your hard work and generosity over the past five years. I remember walking through this building in January of 2003 – so much of it was dark and dreary. Now it is filled with light and life, and we are experiencing a bit of what I’ll call “Field of Dreams” theology: if you build it – or, at least repaint it, they will come. In other words, create a space that is welcoming and inviting and people will want to spend time in it.
All of that is good and right and as it should be, but it falls short of authentic Christian hospitality. For thus far we have managed to transform the space, but we have not ourselves been transformed.
As Diana Butler Bass puts it in Christianity for the Rest of Us, “hospitality changes both the guest and the host.”
Hospitality is transformative not because of the welcoming space that a host creates – although that is not unimportant. Hospitality is important because of where it focuses our deepest attentions. This is the lesson of the quirky little tale of Mary and Martha. Martha is busily transforming the space, and contrary to some readings of the story, she is not condemned for the choice. Nevertheless, Jesus makes it clear that Mary’s focus is more important: she is focused on welcoming the guest, welcoming Jesus, into not merely her physical space, but into her heart.
As Joan Chittister puts it, “hospitality means we take people into the space that is our lives and our minds and our hearts and our work and our efforts. Hospitality is the way we come out of ourselves.”
We’ve been together now for more than five years in this shared ministry, so we can be completely honest with each other. We say, every single week, week after week after week, that all are welcome in this place. The mission statement that appears each and every week on our bulletin is a statement of hospitality. When we respond, in the liturgy that we’ve been using for a while now, to the assurance of pardon, we speak of God’s wildly inclusive love. That is a statement of God’s hospitality. We believe that God is radically welcoming and that we should be, too.
But too often we do not want to come out of ourselves and risk being, ourselves, transformed in the practice of hospitality.
There are lots of reasons for this, but in the end, it usually comes down to one simple thing: fear.
Acts of hospitality involve risks in the face of strangers. Our egos can feel at stake: maybe she won’t like me. Our positions can feel at stake: may he’ll question my authority. Our relationships can feel at stake: maybe she’ll like her better than she likes me. Our safety can feel at stake: maybe they will hurt me.
The truth is, all of these risks may be genuine sometimes.
But the deeper truth is this: the opposite of faith is not wrong belief; the opposite of faith is fear.
This is where hospitality becomes a question of Christian practice. We are called to faith, to trust. We are called to be open to the presence of Christ in the face of the stranger. We are called, in the way of the Quakers, to seek that which is of God in everyone we meet. We are called to trust that the light of the Creator dwells in each creature.
Moreover, we are called to let that light within us shine out upon everyone we meet. In this interplay, we are opened to the presence of God and, thus, open to the possibility of our own transformation.
So, as we work together these days to hear God calling us to renewal, practice a radical openness here. Welcome the stranger in our midst. Seek out the stranger beyond our walls and be open to the possibility that we are called, by the stranger, to be transformed.
I wish I could spell this out with clarity. I wish I could offer a blueprint here. But I cannot. I can only urge this openness and promise a renewed effort to practice it myself. Together, let us risk living more fully into the commitment made here long, long ago, to be a place of radical welcome where we worship a God who welcomes us all.
I began with the suggestion that there is a connection between the practices of our faith and the values we take from it into the public square. Hospitality is a perfect example, for, in the end, it is not so much an individual virtue or private piety as it is an orientation to the world. As such, it becomes a lens through which to ask questions of such things as, say, immigration policy or, in terms of the crisis de jour, a financial crisis whose solution may well determine who gets to stay in their home and who doesn’t.
Obviously, such judgments are incredibly difficult, which, in the end, is why the actions of certain conservative pastors this morning are of questionable political wisdom. Moreover, the suggestion that only one party reflects Biblical values, is more than questionable – not only in terms of the values of the Constitution but, more to the point, in terms of the values of our faith.
posted by David Ensign at
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