Saturday, April 19, 2014

Good Friday Sermon


Yesterday, April 18, 2014, was Good Friday. We did our customary Good Friday evening worship service at Monroe Congregational UCC. My wife and co-pastor Jane thought attendance wasn't bad. I thought it was terrible. We had around two dozen people, including all who were there because they are in the choir and including a few children. That's about one-third of the total congregation. I thought that turn out was bad because for me Good Friday is the most holy day of the Christian year. Not Easter. Jesus' Resurrection after all follows his Crucifixion and wouldn't have happened if he hadn't died. That our founding figure did not die a natural death but was executed by the Roman Empire as a political criminal is one of the relatively few things that truly distinguish Christianity from other great faith traditions. If Christianity is not to be a rank lie there must be profound meaning in Jesus' death.Of course there is meaning in his Resurrection too, but we don't have difficulty getting people to celebrate Easter. Most of them won't come to Good Friday services no matter how much we explain and how much we cajole. I don't see how you can take being a Christian seriously and not commemorate Jesus' execution on Good Friday, so either most of the people of my church think you can or they don't take being a Christian very seriously. I won't express an opinion here as to which of those possibilities is the more correct. Whatever the reasons were that caused most of our people not to attend our Good Friday worship, I find their decision not to attend to be quite discouraging. 

I gave a Good Friday meditation at that service. At least one of our people who did attend--and she drove a considerable distance to do it--called this morning and told me she found my remarks very powerful and moving. I found them powerful and moving as I gave them, so I'm posting them here. I hope they mean something profound to you too.


O Yeah. You Get It
A Good Friday Meditation
Rev. Tom Sorenson, Co-Pastor
April 18, 2014

Scripture:  Mark 15:25-39

Let us pray: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

A few weeks ago I attended our Conference’s annual clergy retreat at Pilgrim Firs. In one of our sessions we were talking about Holy Week, and one of my colleagues asked: “Why do we call it Good Friday?” I was a little surprised to hear the question from a clergy colleague, but I have heard it often enough from the people of the church. After all, there doesn’t seem to be much good about it. Jesus, the one we call the Christ, God’s Anointed One, the one we confess to be the Son of God, indeed to be the Word of God become flesh, to be nothing less than God Incarnate, gets brutally executed by the Roman Empire as a political criminal. That is what happened after all. The Romans crucified Jesus. They killed him in a most brutal way designed to increased the condemned person’s suffering for everyone to see. Surely there is nothing good about crucifixion. Indeed, many of us believe (and I am convinced that all of us are called to believe) that any form of capital punishment inflicted on anyone is a grossly immoral. Certainly the execution of Jesus was anything but good. So why do we call this day on which we remember that execution Good Friday?
When my colleague asked that question at our clergy retreat I spoke up. I don’t often do that at these gatherings. Mostly I can’t get a word in even when I want to because the extroverts are taking up all the air time. But I spoke up this time. I said “I can tell you why it’s Good Friday.” Then I told this story, or at least a shortened version of it. I know some of you have heard me tell it before, but I think it’s worth telling again.
In May, 2007, my twin brother Pete suffered a severe stroke. At first we thought he wouldn’t survive it. That’s what his younger son told me when he called the morning after it had happened. Then it became at least a possibility that he would survive; so after Jane and I drove to Eugene to tell my father what had happened, I flew to Tucson to be with Pete and his family. Pete was in the ICU at a Catholic hospital there. It was really hard for me to be there, although of course not as hard as it was for Pete to be there. We were pretty confident he would live; but we didn’t know how disabled he would be, although the best case scenario involved substantial loss of movement and possible cognitive impairment. I’ve always said that Pete and I have never been as close as people think twins always are, but his stroke hit me pretty hard. I was grieving. I was scared for him and for his wife. It was an emotionally difficult time.
I spent time in Pete’s room with him and his wife Virginia. I spent other time in the family room of the hospital’s ICU wing. As I sat there grieving and stewing about what had happened and what my brother’s future life might be I noticed a crucifix on the wall. It was, after all, a Catholic hospital. A crucifix, for any of you who don’t know, isn’t just an empty cross like we Protestants use. It is a cross with the body of Jesus on it. It is a graphic representation of Jesus suffering and dying. It is the scene of Good Friday. As I sat in that family room of that hospital on the verge of tears I looked up at that crucifix, and I said: “O yeah. You get it. You’ve been here, and worse.” Seeing that crucifix and saying those words helped. They helped me feel some better. They helped me be more present for Pete and Virginia. When I told that story at our clergy retreat I said “that’s why it’s Good Friday.” My colleague who had asked the question said: “Well, that’s a pretty good answer.” Indeed. It is a very good answer.
Good Friday is Good Friday not Bad Friday, not Tragic Friday, not The Friday of Tears, because that isn’t just any man on the cross that we remember today. It isn’t just any man on the cross in that crucifix on the wall in that Tucson hospital. It is Jesus, and Jesus isn’t just any man. He is the Son of God. He is God the Son become human. He is God in human form experiencing the worst that human life has to offer. That Friday was very bad news for Jesus, but that bad news for Jesus is very good news for us. It is very good news for us because in the crucifixion of Jesus we see that God gets it. God gets everything about human life. Most importantly, God gets it about the worst that human life brings us. In Jesus God experiences human pain—excruciating, soul-killing physical pain. God experiences human death. It is not an exaggeration to say that in Jesus on the cross God dies a human death. God enters into human mortality and experiences in God’s own person what it is and what it is like. In Jesus on the cross God suffers gross human injustice in God’s own person. In Jesus God is persecuted, prosecuted, wrongly convicted, and wrongly executed. In Jesus on the cross God experiences human injustice worse than most of us every will. In Jesus God knows. In Jesus God gets it.
And that God in Jesus gets it makes all the difference for us. It makes all the difference for us because when we see Jesus on the cross we know that God does not forsake human suffering. God does not forsake human death. In Jesus on the cross God enters into them. More than that God sanctifies them, God makes them holy because God makes them God’s.
Jesus cried “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus knew the human experience of the absence of God. Jesus knew the human experience of abandonment by God. But in Jesus it was God who knew the absence of God. In Jesus it was God who knew the experience of abandonment by God. Because in Jesus it was God who knew those things we know that God is not really absent when we feel God’s absence. God has not really abandoned us when we feel that God has abandoned us. We can look at Jesus abandoned by God on the cross and say O yeah, you get it. You’ve been there. You’ve been where we are. You’ve felt what we feel, and worse. You’ve had the experiences of pain and death, and you are present with us in our experiences of pain and death. In our times of pain, grief, and death we can see your presence when we see Jesus on the cross. We can know that you are there with us. We can know that you hold us. You sustain us. You comfort us.
Yes, at first we feel alone. We feel your absence. Those feelings are real, and we should not deny them. But when you feel them, look at the cross. Look at Jesus on the cross. Then maybe you can say what I said in that hospital in Tucson seven years ago. O yeah. You get it. You’ve been here, and worse. You know my pain. You know my grief. You are present with me in them. And when you can say that you will feel God’s unfailing arms of grace holding you tight. It won’t make all the pain go away, but it will make the pain easier to bear because you will know that you do not bear it alone. God, even God, bears it with you.

Knowing that helps. It really helps. That’s what we know in Jesus on the cross. We know that God is present with us in the worst that life brings us. We can know that God’s presence will sustain us. God’s presence will get us through. God’s presence will draw us near to our source and our goal, to our Creator and our Sustainer. Trust me. I know. I’ve been there. It helps. Yeah. God knows. God has been there. Thanks be to God. Amen. 

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Modernist?

Modernist?

At the Tuesday evening session of the 2014 meeting of the Northwest Association for Theological Discussion I presented the response that I had written to the book Evangelical vs. Liberal by James Wellman. You can find that paper immediately below this one on this blog. In that presentation I said that if Christianity is going to survive it must adapt to the “tectonic shift” that is under way from modernism to postmodernism. I said that what Wellman calls the liberal churches are in a position to do that in a way that his evangelical churches are not because evangelical, literalist Christianity is grounded in a modernist literalism that is a product of modernism’s reduction of truth to fact. I grant that I was pretty critical of literalist Christianity. I said that it is already dead, it’s just that there are still lots of people who don’t know it yet. I’ve said that many times before, and I think it is true. My presentation, however, provoked a very interesting and challenging response.
Present at our gathering was Michael Kinnamon, former General Secretary of the National Council of Churches, former professor at Eden Seminary and a former seminary head, and currently a visiting professor at the Seattle University School of Theology and Ministry, my alma mater. He said that he liked and appreciated my paper, but he also said that he sees my position as itself thoroughly modernist because it sets up one vision of Christianity as tenable and the other as untenable in the postmodern world. I said that’s fair. I think it is fair, but I don’t think it’s right. Since that session I have given the matter some thought, and I want here to think it through some more.
Kinnamon, one of the world’s leading Christian ecumenicists, doesn’t like my interpretation because it is on some level exclusivist. It denies the ultimate legitimacy of religious literalism. I grant that. I think literalism is just flat wrong. I think that it is ultimately untenable. I don’t want to accommodate it, I want to defeat it. I am convinced that it will kill Christianity if we can’t overcome it. Literalism will kill Christianity because it is incompatible with the emerging worldview of postmodernism. Religious literalism of all kinds, not just Christian literalism, is incompatible with postmodernism because it is grounded in modernism’s reductionist ontology and epistemology. Modernism reduces truth to fact. That’s its reductionist ontology. Only facts are real. Only factual truth is true. Factual truth is known primarily through the scientific process, but for Christian literalism the Bible trumps mere human science. If an asserted scientific truth contradicts what Christian literalists see as a fundamental biblical truth, the Bible wins. Modern science does contradict fundamental biblical truth in several ways; but it does that if, and only if, those biblical truths are understood to be on the same level and of the same nature of truth as scientific truth.
The best example is Genesis 1:1 to 2:3 and the pseudoscience of creationism. The great creation myth with which the Bible opens says that God created the earth and the heavens in six days (seven actually if you count the creation of Sabbath on the seventh day, as I believe we must). Biblical literalists take that ancient account of creation as “true,” but by true they mean factual. They mean that in the impossible case that you had been there to see what happened you would have seen something like what Genesis 1:1 to 2:3 says happened actually happening. For modernist literalists the first creation myth of Genesis is true, and that means to them that it has to be factual. The sciences of evolutionary biology, geology, and anthropology tell a very different story. At least they tell a story that is different for those who insist on understanding Genesis factually. Since for such a literalist Genesis and science are both speaking facts, and because they report different facts, they cannot both be true. Yet because for our literalist all truth is, or at least is factually consistent with, scientific truth, there must be science that says essentially the same thing as Genesis and the science that says something different from Genesis must be wrong. Hence creationism, or creation science. Creation science isn’t science because it begins with an a priori truth—God’s acts of creation understood literally according to the Bible—and sets out to prove that a priori truth with factual findings that sound scientific. Clearly what these literalists are doing is reducing the Bible to modernism’s limited view of truth, its limited view of the nature of reality.
That way of understanding Christianity and its foundational book the Bible will not survive in a postmodern world. It can’t. It won’t and it can’t because postmodernism cuts its ontological and epistemological foundation out from under it. It’s not that postmodernism doesn’t know factual truth of course. Postmodernism accepts the findings of science as established facts, or at least it accepts them as facts provisionally. Postmodernism accepts the findings of science provisionally because science, at its best, also accepts its findings provisionally. A scientific truth is one that by definition is at least theoretically subject to being proven wrong, so all scientific truths are by definition provisional. They are true until they are proven to be false. So within the scope of its own ontology and epistemology postmodernism accepts factual truth.
Postmodernism differs from modernism however in that it does not reduce all truth to fact. Postmodernism understands and accepts kinds of truth other than factual truth. In this aspect of its worldview postmodernism has recaptured something from the pre-modern worldview. The pre-modern world knew factual truth of course, but it also knew other kinds of truth as well. It knew what I and others (including Tillich) call mythic or symbolic truth. Some people today, like Marcus Borg, insist on calling this kind of truth metaphoric, but the theologically correct term for it is mythic. The ancient world sometimes called this truth analogical rather than mythic, but it meant essentially the same thing by that term as I mean by mythic. Mythic or analogical truth is truth that is not factual. It is truth that is much deeper and in important ways more powerful than mere factual truth. It is truth to which human language can point but cannot fully capture. To use an old metaphor for it, it is a finger pointing to the moon, not the moon itself. It is truth that is more experienced by the whole person than known only by the intellect. It is truth that knows that it is not complete, absolute, or final. It is truth that allows for other truths different from itself, that is, it is truth that is not exclusivist. It is truth that is open toward the future, not closed by something said or supposedly discovered in the past. It is truth expressed in story and the exegesis of story, not in scientific formula.
Postmodern ontology and epistemology allow for different truths, but there is one approach to truth that postmodernism must reject. Postmodernism must reject any truth claim that reduces truth to fact and that claims exclusive validity for itself. I admit that we are dealing with a paradox here. Postmodernism is an approach to truth that is open to multiple truths but that must nonetheless reject some claims of truth. It must reject truth claims that radically contradict its underlying understandings of the nature of reality and  of human knowledge. It must not condemn people who still cling to those contradictory primary understandings (although it can and must condemn their statements and public policy demands that are harmful to people and to the earth), but neither must it accept and honor those understandings either tacitly or explicitly.
The postmodern worldview does not prohibit itself from proclaiming and developing itself. The postmodern worldview does not prohibit itself from expressing its critique of the modernist worldview that it has moved beyond. Nothing in the postmodern worldview prohibits it from proclaiming the death, realized or pending, of modernism in all of its manifestations, including its religious manifestations. Postmodernism does not prevent one from doing penetrating analysis of current reality. It does not prevent one from discerning the trajectory of human culture and predicting where it will go. Indeed, it requires us to do such analysis and such discernment.

So is my critique, indeed my condemnation, of modernist, literalist Christianity itself modernist? I don’t think so. Modernism cannot critique religious literalism the way I do because it shares modern literalism’s ontology and epistemology. I think that my critique is an expression not of modernism but of a postmodern sensitivity and awareness. It is discernment of a fundamental contradiction between literalist faith and the trajectory of western culture. It is not a condemnation of people. As I said in the session in which Professor Kinnamon made his statement, I don’t want to destroy any faith that gets a person through the night; and I freely admit that literalist Christianity still gets millions of people through the night. Indeed, in my book Liberating Christianity I say that people do find a real connection with God in literalist Christianity. I do not deny that connection, although many people today who have been badly burned by conservative Christianity do deny it. It’s just that I am convinced that that kind of Christianity will not survive in the long-term future of western culture. That conviction is based on a postmodern analysis not on a modernist one. So with all due deference to Professor Kinnamon, the scope of whose life work and public prominence far exceed my own, I respectfully disagree that my critique of literalist Christianity is modernist.

Monday, January 20, 2014

A Re-Post for MLK Day

Three years ago I posted on this blog a sermon I had given on the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. It still rings true, so I am re-posting it here today as we once again remember Dr. King.

It’s Martin Luther King Day, 2011.  A lot of people are talking about him today.  Some progressive voices are saying what I want to say about him, but most people aren’t.  I’ve haven’t before posted one of my sermons here, but I’m now posting the one I gave yesterday.  It’s about Martin Luther King, and it’s about the Martin Luther King we’d rather forget.  It’s an important message.  I hope that by posting it here I can in some tiny measure help to get the word out.

A Light to the Nations
Rev. Tom Sorenson, Pastor
January 16, 2011

Scripture:  Isaiah 49:1-7

Let us pray:  May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight O God, our strength and our redeemer.  Amen.

It’s Martin Luther King Day weekend.  This weekend we pause to remember and celebrate the life and work of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  If Protestantism had saints he’d probably be one.  He would at least be venerated as a martyr for the faith, as many people are in Orthodox Christianity.  We don’t do that exactly, but we do celebrate King’s life and work.  Yet as I considered Martin Luther King once more this past week I discerned that we need to ask ourselves just what it is about his life and work that we celebrate; and we need to ask whether there aren’t parts of his life and work that we don’t celebrate, that we’d rather forget.  I am convinced that there are such aspects of his life and work, and that’s what I want to talk about this morning.
We celebrate Martin Luther King the civil rights leader.  We celebrate his courage and the powerful way he articulated, in the great preaching tradition of the Black churches, the cause of equality in our country.  We celebrate his immortal “I Have a Dream” speech.  All of that is worthy of celebration, and we do celebrate it.  But here’s the thing.  Martin Luther King was about a lot more than that, and it’s that a lot more that we maybe would rather forget, that, in fact, a lot of Americans do forget or ignore.
We know that King insisted on nonviolence in the civil rights movement.  It was, I think, that insistence on nonviolence that made him white people’s favorite civil rights leader.  We wanted the civil rights movement to be nonviolent.  That was a good thing, although maybe we only thought it was a good thing because we were afraid of Black America’s righteous anger at centuries of white racism resulting in violence against us.  What we pay less attention to is the fact that King did not limit his call for nonviolence to the civil rights movement.  He saw the connection between violence at home and the violence we were perpetrating at the time in Vietnam.  So he spoke up.  He spoke out against the Vietnam War, and when he did he became a lot less popular with white America.  People told him to stick to his proper sphere of activity, the civil rights movement.  That was of course a racist response to King’s opposition to the war because it said that a Black man’s only legitimate concern was the civil rights of his own people, but just as importantly it greatly misunderstood King’s—and Jesus’—message of nonviolence.  It limited nonviolence as a value to one aspect of life, one set of issues.  It failed to see that King’s—and Jesus’—call to nonviolence is universal, that it applies to all aspects of life.  That was, and is, a part of King’s—and Jesus’—message that a great many of us did not and do not want to hear; but Jesus proclaimed it and King preached it just the same.
And King insisted on more than nonviolence; and he insisted on more than legal equality, equality of legal rights, for Black Americans, as important as that was and is.  He insisted on economic justice for poor people, Black and white and every other color as well.  When he was assassinated in Memphis Tennessee, he was there to support the demands of sanitation workers for a fair wage and safe working conditions.  That was an issue of economic justice not of race.  King also saw the connection between poverty and violence.  He saw that it was disproportionately Black Americans and other poor Americans whom we sent to fight and die in our imperialist war in Vietnam.  A great many white Americans reacted to King’s calls for economic justice the same way they did to his call for an end to the Vietnam War.  Civil rights are fine, we said, as long as you’re only talking about legal rights.  But don’t go supporting the economic rights of the poor.  That’s not your concern, we said, perhaps out of fear that true economic justice for the poor might mean that those of us with economic privilege might have to live a little less high on the hog.
We celebrate Martin Luther King as a civil rights leader, but he was much more than a civil rights leader.  He was an advocate of nonviolence in all aspects of life, and he demanded economic justice for the poor.  Where did all of that emphasis on nonviolence and justice come from?  It came from Jesus, that’s where.  Why did King insist on preaching those things as well as civil rights?  Because he was a Christian, that’s why.  Jesus preached economic justice, what Crossan calls distributive justice, economic justice that assures that all have enough.  Jesus called us to be advocates of such distributive justice as well.  Jesus preached and lived nonviolence, and he calls us to preach and to live nonviolence too.  Martin Luther King got all of that.  A great many Christians do not.  Those things are hallmarks of King’s life that many of us would rather forget.
Our passage from Isaiah this morning may not seem to have much to do with the message of Martin Luther King, but I think it does.  That passage is one of the so-called servant songs from the part of Isaiah scholars call second Isaiah.  In it God calls God’s servant, whose identity historically is unknown, to be a light not only to his own people Israel but to the whole world.  God says to the servant “I will give you as a light to the nations.”  By that light, God says, the nations of the world will see and come to the ways of God.
For us Christians the primary light to the nations is Jesus Christ.  He is a shining beacon in a world of darkness.  He lights the way to God and reveals the ways of God.  What is the way to God that he lights?  What are the ways of God that he reveals?  They are more than anything else the ways of economic justice for the poor and of nonviolence in all aspects of human life.  Martin Luther King understood that truth.  He proclaimed that truth, a truth he learned from his Lord and Savior, and ours, Jesus Christ, our primary light to the nations.  Everyone who reflects the light of Christ is also a light to the nations.  God, you see, calls us to be a light too.
Friends, the world today desperately needs that light.  It desperately needs the light of economic justice.  We are starting to see the effects of the world’s unjust distribution of resources, an unjust distribution from which we all benefit, revealed more and more starkly.  In recent days we’ve seen stories of soaring food prices causing hardship in places like India and Indonesia.  In our own state services on which many people depend just to stay alive are being reduced or eliminated because the rest of us won’t pay for them.  Economic injustice today threatens to destabilize the whole world.  If it doesn’t do it today, it most certainly will do it tomorrow.
Violence today threatens to destroy the whole world.  Prophets of nonviolence like Crossan and Wink say, rightly, that unless we humans can overcome our addiction to violence, can transcend our belief in what Wink calls the myth of redemptive violence, the belief that violence can save us, we will eventually and inevitably destroy ourselves and our part of God’s creation.  We have the means to do it.  More nations are seeking the means to do it.  I and many others are convinced that Jesus’ way—God’s way—of nonviolence is our only hope of escape, the only path of salvation for the world.
Martin Luther King knew these truths.  He knew them because he knew Jesus Christ.  He was a light to the nations because he reflected the light of Christ.  He did that not only by working for civil rights but by working for economic justice and by preaching universal nonviolence as well.  In all of that he was a light to the nations.  Are we?  Amen. 

Depth and Postmodern Faith

I belong to an organization called the Northwest Association for Theological Discussion. It's a group of pastors (active or inactive), mostly Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) with a couple of us UCC types tagging along. It meets for a retreat once a year. This year's gathering is coming up in February. One of the things we will do is discuss the book Evangelical vs. Liberal, The Clash of Christian Cultures in the Pacific Northwest, Oxford University Press, 2006, by James Wellman of the University of Washington. I am tasked with being one of the responders to the primary presentation about the book. I have written up some comments and observations on and in response to the book. It may be of some interest even to those of you who are not part of our group and have not read the book.  Here's what I have prepared for the meeting.

Depth and Postmodern Faith:
Comments on Evangelical vs. Liberal, The Clash of Christian Cultures in the Pacific Northwest, by James K. Wellman, Jr.

Rev. Dr. Thomas C. Sorenson
January, 2014

Introduction

Since I am a responder and not the major presenter on this book, and since Keith has given a rather detailed summary of its content in his paper “Religious Vitality In a Liberal Church,” I will summarize the book here only very briefly. In the book Wellman, a professor of comparative religion with the Henry M. Jackson School at the University of Washington, has done a sociological study of thriving churches in western Washington and Oregon that he classifies as either evangelical or liberal. He analyzes these churches in terms of what he calls their moral worldviews and how those moral worldviews shape and direct the life and activities of the churches. The evangelical churches include both what we would more traditionally call Evangelical churches and Pentecostal or other charismatic churches. Apparently none of them accepted the label Fundamentalist, although that is what we liberals often call at least some of them. The liberal churches are congregations from the old mainline Protestant denominations. I strongly suspect that Wellman’s churches include among the evangelical churches both Seattle’s Mars Hill church and probably Seattle’s University Presbyterian Church (a mainline church among Wellman’s evangelicals, and UPres truly is evangelical in Wellman’s sense) and among the liberal churches Plymouth Congregational UCC in downtown Seattle, but I can’t be sure of that suspicion. In any event I suppose it doesn’t really matter. The moral worldview of the evangelical churches is grounded in a biblical literalism that sees humans as inherently sinful but saved by Jesus Christ if they accept Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior. The moral worldview of the liberal churches is grounded in a biblically based understanding of God and Jesus Christ as all-loving and all-inclusive. The liberals are, in Wellman’s terms, morally libertarian in the sense that liberal churches believe in the right and obligation of each person to make her or his own moral choices. It is interesting that Wellman calls his liberals libertarian in this sense because in our common political parlance libertarianism is a kind of conservatism. Wellman says that the culture of the liberal churches is similar to the secular culture in which they are located in both their commitment to social justice and their moral libertarianism. Since they are grounded in such radically different moral worldviews, the churches of the two groups differ in almost every way—in their worship style, outreach to the community, expectations of members, expectations of clergy, and in just about every other way one can imagine.
I am a pastor of a church that falls squarely into Wellman’s liberal category, and although I am quite new to NWATD I suspect that all of this group’s members would identify more with the liberal churches than with the evangelical ones. My church is Open and Affirming. We believe in the right and duty of each person to make their own decisions about faith and values, a stance that may be in some sense libertarian but that in the religious context is hardly conservative. I preach Christian nonviolence and commitment to social justice. Some full disclosure: As I read Wellman’s book I found my head nodding in agreement with most of what he said about the liberal churches, both positive and negative. I found myself railing against most of what he said about the evangelical churches. I’ll just say here that I strongly disagree with the evangelical churches’ vision of what Christianity actually is. I was, as you’d suspect, most interested in what Wellman has to say about the strengths and weaknesses of the liberal churches in the Pacific Northwest.
With that disclosure, here are two issues that occur to me from reading Wellman’s book that I think are worth discussing. They are first: If Wellman is right that the culture of liberal churches is essentially identical to the secular but spiritual culture of the Pacific Northwest and that those churches therefore have a hard time differentiating themselves from that broader culture, what if anything do we offer people that they can’t get from secular organizations or from belonging to no organization at all? Second: Wellman uses the term postmodern on occasion, but the biggest lack I found in the book was his failure to analyze how the conflicting cultures of evangelical and liberal churches hold up in the light of postmodernism. I will discuss those issues in turn.

The First Issue

I think Wellman is generally correct that the secular culture of the Pacific Northwest (at least west of the Cascades, where his churches are located) is on the whole socially liberal and morally libertarian. So are Wellman’s liberal churches. Wellman posits that these characteristics make these churches so similar to the secular culture around them that it is hard for them to articulate what they have to offer that the secular culture does not. Their similarity to the secular culture, he says, raises the question for liberal churches of why people should be part of them. It is I think a serious question for us liberals, but I also think there are significant answers to it. When I first read Wellman asking the question about the similarity between liberal churches and secular culture the word that immediately popped into my mind was “depth.” That word comes from Tillich’s statement that faith expresses the depth dimension of reality. Our liberal churches may be liberal, but they are also churches. That means that they, that we, are about more than social justice and moral libertarianism. We worship God, not social justice, not individual moral choice. Our commitment to social justice and individual moral choice is grounded not in reason, not in merely cultural values, but in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Because we are communities of faith, we can offer people so much more than mere commitment to certain values. What we offer them is connection with God, with ultimate reality, with the depth of life.
I was talking about Wellman’s presentation of this issue with a couple of people from my church, and one of them asked me what I would say to put what we have to offer in simple terms. I said something like “We offer ultimate reality. We offer a connection with God, the truly ultimate, who will support, comfort, forgive, call, push, inspire you, and give your life meaning.” My parishioner responded “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” No, it wasn’t; but how many of us say things like that to new people who ask about our church? How many of us preach it often and with conviction? I surely haven’t.
I have often heard people say when asked why they come to church that they come to church because they have done well in life and want to give something back to society. Fair enough, but when I hear that statement I always think OK, but you can give back to society by joining Rotary, or Kiwanis, or the Lions Club; and you can probably give back more directly and efficiently in those groups than you can in most small liberal churches. So why church? I think the answer to why church is precisely that we offer more than service clubs do. Our secular culture is inadequate for people precisely because it is secular. Because our culture is secular it is superficial. We human beings have as part of our makeup a longing for connection with something beyond mere physical existence. We long for connection with a reality that is deeper, more basic and more ultimate, than the reality we perceive around us every day. The great theologians of our time, including Tillich and Rahner, have explored that human longing in powerful ways and made it a foundational part of their transformative theologies. That longing is a basic fact of human existence, a fact that explains why every human culture we know of has developed religions, that is, systems of symbol and myth that function to connect people with that which lies in, behind, and beyond physical existence. We are liberal, but we are churches. That means that we have symbols and myths that can satisfy that elemental human longing for connection with something greater than ourselves, something greater, deeper, and more spiritually powerful than anything in the physical world.
As Wellman points out, another problem we liberal churches have that is closely related to the similarity between liberal church and secular society is that the people of our area are “spiritual but not religious,” and they think they find their spiritual connection in nature rather than in organized religion. Of course it is possible, and wonderful, to find a connection with God, with ultimate spiritual reality, in nature. But when I hear that people don’t join a church because they find their connection with God in nature I want to ask them: Are the deer going to come visit you when you’re in the hospital? Or when you’re on your death bed? Are the elk going to tell you that God loves you and will never abandon you? Will the beavers be there for your family after you’re gone? They’ll still be there out in nature, but will they hold your grieving spouse’s hand and help her grieve well? Nature spirituality may not be secular exactly, but it sure doesn’t take the place of a faith community or of a faith’s system of symbols and myths that truly connect us with that for which we long. As communities of faith we indeed have so much to offer that people can’t get in secular society or in nature.
So if Wellman thinks, or if we think, that we don’t have more to offer people than they can get without us he, and we, are wrong. If people don’t know that we have more to offer, that is our fault not theirs. If they don’t feel that more in our worship services, that is our fault, not theirs. I think that Wellman has not analyzed the relationship of his churches to their cultural context very deeply, but his question about what liberal churches have to offer people that those people can’t get outside them is an important one. We need to do a better job of living and communicating all that we have to offer.

The Second Issue

The second issue that I want to discuss has to do with the issue of cultures that are usually called modern and postmodern. A couple of times Wellman calls his liberal churches modern or modernist. He thinks we’re modernist because we value human reason and accept the results of scientific research. He never calls his evangelical churches modernist. He doesn’t discuss this issue at any depth at all, and that is for me the book’s biggest shortcoming. Of course, Wellman is writing here as a sociologist, not as a theologian, philosopher, or cultural anthropologist. He is reporting the results of research he and his assistants have done, so perhaps it isn’t fair to expect him to analyze larger anthropological issues. Still, I think Wellman gives a wrong impression when he calls us liberals modernist and doesn’t call his evangelicals modernist.
In this regard I was struck by the book’s very shortsighted view of the future. Writing in probably about 2004 or 2005 he said we won’t know if the growth of the evangelical churches has leveled off until the results of the 2010 census, a whole five or six years out. That’s a very short-term future. A major change is taking place in our culture, and the future of the church and of just about everything else about our culture has everything to do with the tectonic shift taking place from modernism to postmodernism, but we must view that shift in much longer terms than a mere few years. I am convinced that the church’s future depends more than anything else on how it relates to that shift. Can it adapt? Can it change? I think the liberal churches (or at least some of them) are already doing that to a considerable extent, and the evangelical churches aren’t—and can’t. Let me explain.
Western culture underwent a huge change between the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries CE. We call that change the Enlightenment. One key part of the Enlightenment was the Scientific Revolution. By 1648 western Europe had been ravaged by wars, especially by the series of conflicts known collectively as the Thirty Years War, which greatly discredited organized religion because of the violence it had perpetrated and endorsed.  By 1648 Rene Descartes had already written cogito ergo sum, I think therefore I am, and attempted to recreate a world solely on the basis of human reason. The world hasn’t been the same since. Over the next two hundred years and beyond human reason displaced revelation as the source of knowledge, and it replaced the church as the source of cultural authority. Any detailed review of the history of these changes is unnecessary here, but their result is of utmost importance. One result of those changes was that in Western culture truth got reduced to fact. When truth is fact, there can only be one true answer to any question. Christians had always understood the Bible at least in part as factually true of course, and Christianity has been sinfully exclusivist from the beginning; but the Enlightenment and the Scientific Revolution resulted in truth being seen only as fact, and that epistemology strengthened Christianity’s exclusivism in powerful ways. The thinking went that if Christianity is factually true, then no other religious tradition can contain any truth at all.
Perhaps this story from my personal experience will help clarify things here. In the 1970s, while I was a graduate student in history at the University of Washington, I took a seminar from the great Russian/British historian/philosopher Isaiah Berlin.[1] Berlin told us that western civilization, by which he meant, I think, western civilization as shaped by the Enlightenment, holds to three fundamental truths. They are that every question has an answer, every question has only one correct answer, and it is possible for us humans to know that answer. Those three truths sum up the modernist worldview that came out of the Enlightenment very nicely. They apply to Wellman’s evangelical Christianity. That type of Christianity claims to know all the answers and to know the only true answers to the great existential questions humanity faces.
Modern biblical literalism, indeed modern literalism about all matters of faith, is a result of the Enlightenment. That is, it is a product of modernism, the worldview formed by the Enlightenment. As scholars applied human reason to the study of the Bible, and as science continued to discover truths that appear to contradict the world and the cosmos reflected in the Bible, many Christians, especially in the United States, reacted powerfully against those developments. That reaction reached its height in the appearance of true Fundamentalism in the early twentieth century. Yes, Fundamentalism was a reaction against some aspects of modernism. It was a reaction against critical study of scripture that revealed how problematic the Bible’s texts are. It was a reaction against science, especially the science of biological evolution. Yet Fundamentalism’s reaction against some aspects of modernism masks the radically modern nature of that movement. It was modernist because it accepted the modernist view of truth, that truth consists only of facts, that only one set of facts is true, and that we can and do know those facts. If the Bible says God created the world in six days, and if that statement is factually true, then the sciences of geology, anthropology, and biology that were presenting very different truths must be factually wrong. Fundamentalism’s assertion of the falsehood of modernist science is itself a thoroughly modernist statement and is grounded in modernist epistemology and ontology.
Today culture is moving beyond modernism. The leading elements of western culture are rediscovering kinds of truth other than factual truth. We are rediscovering the depth and the power of mythic truth, and we know how vastly it exceeds mere literal truth in depth and power. We are learning the limits of human reason. We know that though we can conceive of the infinite and the ultimate we can never fully understand of what they consist. We are experiencing the limits of human language. We are coming to understand that human language understood literally is incommensurate with the task we assign it of speaking a truth about the infinite. We have learned that our language can point to ultimate truth but can never capture it, can never define it, can never express it in its fullness. We have rediscovered human subjectivity. That is, we now understand reality from the perspective not of external objectivity, which is in the end something of which we simply are not capable, but of the human being as a subject who experiences a reality that seems to us external but that is actually something that we create internally. We therefore know in a way that modernism cannot that ultimate, absolute truth is beyond us and that all of our truth is relative and contingent. The world of modernism that produced contemporary religious literalism is dead. Yes, a great many people still live in it and don’t know that it is dead; but dead it is, and dead it shall remain.
All of these aspects of our current context have profound meaning for faith and for religion. Since the worldview that produced modern literalism is dead, biblical literalism is dead. It still exists of course, and a great many people still adhere to it; yet that reality is simply a function of how human cultures change over time. I said above that in the seventeenth century Rene Descartes wrote cogito ergo sum and the world has never been the same ever since. That’s true, but of course at first very, very few people were aware of Descartes or his radical new rationalistic philosophy. It took a good couple of hundred years before the rationalism and philosophical positivism of Europe’s leading intellectual lights filtered down into popular culture. The same process is underway today. Most Americans still live in a modernist world, but our culture is moving beyond that world. It will take a couple of hundred more years for the transformation to be complete; but it has begun, and it is unstoppable.
Which of course raises profound questions for the future of the Christian faith. By “the future” I mean the long-term future, not the very short-term future that Wellman addresses. To understand the long-term future of the Christian faith we have to start with understanding the basic truth of Wellman’s evangelical churches. Those churches are grounded in biblical literalism. Their notion that Christianity is about how one gets to heaven after death by believing in Jesus is grounded in a literal reading of certain passages of the Bible. Their Christian exclusivism is thoroughly modernist. It results from a literal reading of the New Testament combined with a modernist understanding of truth as fact. In the postmodern world that is to some extent already here and that is the wave of the future both textual literalism and a reductionist ontology are excluded. It is already clear to those with eyes to see that Wellman’s evangelicalism will not survive into the future that seems distant to us but that in terms of the development of human cultures is actually quite close.
That’s why, current demographic trends to the contrary notwithstanding, liberal Christianity in Wellman’s sense has a brighter future than does evangelicalism. It does, that is, if it has the courage truly to transcend modernism and modernism’s consequences for religious faith. Liberal Christianity has a future if it has the wisdom and the courage truly to move beyond biblical literalism. Liberal Christianity has a future if it has the wisdom and the courage truly to move beyond Christian exclusivism. Liberal Christianity has a future if it has the wisdom and the courage to move beyond devotion to specific doctrines and to offer people a truly deep connection with God, if it has the wisdom and the courage to engage people where they are today and to address the existential dilemmas of today rather than continuing with the old saws about sin and salvation that mean so little to so many today.
We humans have a longing for connection with the divine that is so much more than a fear of damnation. Yet assuaging a fear of damnation is where evangelical Christianity is grounded. Evangelical churches may express joy in their worship services as Wellman contends, but that joy is grounded in relief that one is no longer going to receive the eternal damnation evangelicals are convinced they and all the rest of us deserve. They may speak of respect for others, but they deeply believe in Christian exclusivism. The epistemological and ontological underpinnings of that kind of faith are steadily being eroded away in the postmodern world. Liberal, non-literal, non-exclusivist Christianity has within it that potential for adapting itself to the postmodern world and speaking a powerful truth to and for that world. Evangelical Christianity doesn’t. Therein lies the promise of a future for Christianity. Wellman’s book is an important and interesting snapshot of our current time, but it leaves the most profound questions about the future of Christianity unasked and unanswered.






[1] Not Irving Berlin. Once during World War II Isaiah Berlin was introduced to Winston Churchill, who asked him to play something on the piano.  So it’s Isaiah, not Irving, Berlin.

Thursday, December 19, 2013

The War on Christmas

Here's the sermon I gave on Dec. 15, 2013, on the so-called war on Christmas. There really is such a war, but it's not what you've probably been told it is.

The War on Christmas
Rev.  Tom Sorenson, Co-Pastor
December 15, 2013

Scripture:  Luke 2:8-14; Luke 1:46-55

Let us pray:  May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight O God, our strength and our redeemer.  Amen.

We’ve all heard about it.  There’s a war on Christmas.  Didn’t you know?  Christmas is under siege!  Christmas is being assaulted.  Christmas is in danger of falling to its secular enemies!  It’s awful!  People tell us to say Happy Holidays rather than Merry Christmas!  People write Xmas rather than Christmas so they don’t have to say the word Christ!  The forces of secular liberalism don’t want America to celebrate Christmas.  They don’t want us to celebrate Christmas because they hate Jesus and they hate Christians.  The forces of Christ must rally to defend the celebration of his birth.  If we don’t, our ancient and sacred faith is doomed.  There’s a war on Christmas.  To arms, everyone!
Have you heard that kind of nonsense spewed by people who believe it, or who at least want you to believe it?  I have, and it is all utter and complete garbage.  Those two aspects of it that we hear condemned all the time, Happy Holidays and Xmas, are actually quite proper.  Happy Holidays simply recognizes that we are a multi-religious society as well as being one in which a great many people aren’t religious at all.  How would you feel if everyone went around wishing you Happy Hanukah or Happy Ramadan when you aren’t Jewish or Muslim?  Well, that’s how Jews and Muslims feel when people wish them Merry Christmas.  And Xmas?  That’s in fact quite Christian.  The X in Xmas is actually the Greek letter chi, and Christians have used chi, the first letter of the Greek word Christos from which our word Christ comes, to designate Christ virtually from the beginning of the faith.  So those false prophets on Fox News and elsewhere who proclaim that Happy Holidays and Xmas constitute a war on Christmas are just flat wrong.
They’re wrong that those things constitute a war on Christmas, but here’s the thing.  As Marcus Borg has recently said in a blog post of his, there actually is a war on Christmas going on.  It’s not a war on superficial things like Happy Holidays and Xmas, it’s a war on what Christmas really means.  It is a war on who Jesus was and is.  Now, I’m not much taken with the war language here.  I use it only because it has become so common among us; but it is nonetheless true that there are at least two things going on among us today that change and even tear down what Christmas actually should mean to us.  One of them has to do with our society and our secular culture.  The other has to do with Christianity itself.  The first is the rampant secularization of Christmas.  The other is what Christianity has done to Jesus.  Let me explain.
We all know about the way that Christmas has gotten secularized.  Christmas among us isn’t so much about celebrating the birth of Christ any more.  It’s mostly about giving gifts.  Now, there’s nothing wrong with giving gifts, or at least there isn’t if it is done in a spirit of love.  But gift giving has become an obsession, a mania even, among us.  People get trampled on “Black Friday” as others force their way ahead of them to get a bargain price on a flat screen TV or the latest toy rage.  Ads tells us, especially us men, over and over again that if we don’t give the woman in our lives a diamond or a $50,000 car we don’t really love her.  We buy our children and grandchildren so many toys that Christmas overwhelms them, and what should be an occasion of joy becomes an occasion for an exhausted tantrum.  And it all has nothing to do with the birth of Christ.  Yes, the magi give three symbolic gifts to Jesus in Matthew’s birth story, but giving gifts didn’t become part of the celebration of Christmas for well over one thousand years after Jesus’ birth.  Christmas has come to be a whole lot more about helping retailers end the year in the black than it is about celebrating the birth of Christ.  That, my friends, is a true abasement of Christmas.  Fox News won’t talk about it a lot because saying it doesn’t help their corporate sponsors and wealthy supporters, but it is a true secularization of Christmas that diverts us from the holiday’s true meaning.
The church has diverted us from the holiday’s true meaning too.  For me, this part of the real war on Christmas is more subtle, more hidden, and much more dangerous than is our society’s secularization of the holiday.  The church has waged a war on Christmas through who it has turned Jesus into.  We’ve all heard it.  Many of us grew up with it.  Why was Jesus born?  For the last seventeen hundred years the church has answered:  To die as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.  That’s it.  Just that.  The reason we celebrate Christmas, we’ve been told, is because at Christmas our Savior is born; and that means the one is born who will die so that we can get to heaven.  We’re told:  This man had to be born so he could die—for us.  Now, I think Jesus did die for us; but I don’t think it was as an atoning sacrifice for sin, and I don’t think dying was why he was born.  The church has changed Jesus into something he wasn’t, and isn’t; and that changes the meaning of Christmas for us.  So if we don’t celebrate the birth of Jesus because he’s going to die for us in a few months, at least a few months on the church’s calendar, why do we celebrate Christmas?  Who is this whose birth we’re celebrating?  You may have different answers to those questions.  Here are at least a good part of mine.
We celebrate the birth of Jesus because in and through him we know God.  Jesus came to give the world a new and different vision of who God is, of how God relates to us and to all of creation, and of what God wants from us.  He came to give us that new vision in how he lived his life, what he did, what he taught, and even—or perhaps especially—how he died.  Obviously there’s a whole lot more to say about why Jesus matters than I can say in one short sermon, but if I had to summarize what Jesus was all about I would say that he was about a call to transformation.  He called us to transform ourselves, and he called us to transform our world.  You might well think that the birth of someone whose significance lies in a call to transformation is not worth celebrating.  After all, transformation isn’t usually a lot of fun.  It isn’t easy.  It may involve gain, but it also almost certainly involves loss, at least for those of us who are relatively well off by the world’s standards.  Well, so be it.  Whether we like it or not, Jesus is all about calling us to transformation.
The transformation to which he calls us starts with us, with each individual person.  Violent revolutionaries in Jesus’ time wanted to transform the world through violence.  Jesus, the ultimate prophet of nonviolence, wanted us to transform the world by transforming ourselves.  He called us out of our selfishness.  He called us out of our self-centeredness.  I called us to give up our individual need to survive so that we could truly live out of ourselves for others and for God’s world just as he did.  The Christian tradition has waged war on that aspect of Jesus’ meaning for at least the last seventeen hundred years.  It has told us Jesus is about our own personal salvation.  It has told us that he’s not about transformation in this life, he’s about how we get to heaven in the next one.  Well, the truth is that in the Gospels Jesus says very little about getting to heaven in the next life, but he says a great deal about transformation in this life.  If Christmas is about the birth of a Savior who calls us to radical transformation in this life, and it is, then Christ’s own church has waged war on Christmas for a very, very long time.
But as I just said, Jesus was also about transformation of the world.  That’s what his talk of the Kingdom of God was all about.  The Kingdom of God isn’t a heaven up in the sky somewhere.  It is the world transformed to correspond to God’s will and ways.  It is a world transformed from greedy materialism to selfless sharing.  It is a world transformed from the ways of violence to the ways of peace.  It is a world transformed from injustice and oppression into a world where all are equal and all are free.  Jesus calls us to that transformation too, and that transformation starts with the transformation of our hearts.  Jesus wants to change the world one transformed person at a time, and he calls us to that work of transformation.  His church has waged war on that part of Jesus’ meaning too.  It has said don’t worry so much about poverty, hunger, illness, oppression, and injustice in this life; worry about how you get to heaven in the next.  That message betrays Jesus, and if Christmas is about the birth of the one who calls us to transformation, and it is, then that message is a war on Christmas being waged within Christ’s own church.

So in ten days we will celebrate Christ’s birth.  Let me suggest to you today that before we do we need to figure out why we’re doing it.  As Christians why we’re doing it isn’t, or at least shouldn’t be, about presents.  It isn’t about a big Christmas dinner that we enjoy while others go hungry.  It isn’t even about get-togethers with family, as good and meaningful as those can be.  It is about recognizing who this person whose birth we celebrate was and is.  It is about recognizing his meaning for us.  That meaning is salvation to be sure, but it is salvation through transformation.  Transformation of our selves, and through transformation of ourselves transformation of the world.  In ten days, will we recognize that that’s what we’re commemorating?  I hope so.  If we do then the real war on Christmas will have failed, and we can truly celebrate the birth of the one we call Lord and Savior.  May it be so.  Amen.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Wars and Rumors of Wars

Many of us pastors feel called to prophesy on different subjects.  Many of my colleagues are passionate most of all about the issue of global warming.  I agree with them, but I feel called most of all to prophesy against violence and for God's way of nonviolence.  On Nov. 17, 2013, I gave a sermon on nonviolence, one of many I have preached.  It got a good reception from many in my congregation.  Here it is.


Wars and Rumors of Wars

Rev. Tom Sorenson, Co-Pastor

November 17, 2013

 

Scripture:  Luke 21:5-19

 

Let us pray:  May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight O God, our strength and our redeemer.  Amen.

 

The ad runs frequently on the television these days.  In the background Frank Sinatra is singing “I’m gonna live until I die.”  The scene is a computer generated Las Vegas, but this computer generated Las Vegas is a war zone.  It’s not clear who’s attacking whom.  Young men and women are doing combat with the invaders.  They’re blasting away with great glee at enemy manifestations.  At one point a young man asks a young woman “How you doin’?” in a way that is clearly a come on.  She pushes him aside, blasts an enemy flying machine of some sort, then says “Great.  Thanks for asking.”  The hero characters wreak as much destruction on Las Vegas as their enemies do.  They leap off of buildings.  Somehow they end up in outer space, although it isn’t at all clear in the ad how or why.  Then they’re in Jeeps of some sort roaring through a frozen landscape and blasting away at enemies with great joy on their faces.  And all the while Frank Sinatra sings “I’m gonna live until I die,” a swingy, upbeat song about living life to the fullest as long as we have life.  The message is clear:  Living life until you die is making sure all sorts of other people die before you do.  It’s an ad for a video game, and it is unspeakably violent. 

The journal Pediatrics recently published a report on research someone has done into violence and the movie rating system.  The conclusion of the study is that the movies rated PG-13 today contain more acts of violence than movies in the 1980s that were rated R.  The study says that gun violence in PG-13 movies has tripled since 1985, when the PG-13 rating was introduced.  Movies that used to be rated R for violence are rated PG-13 today.  The study says that watching violence doesn’t necessarily make people more violent, although frankly I doubt that conclusion.  There’s some reason why there have been over 28,000 gun deaths in this country since the Sandy Hook school shooting.  I’m sure all the violence in our entertainment hasn’t done anything to lower that number.

Last Monday on Veterans Day we once again saw and heard repeated, ubiquitous praise of the military and of everyone who does or ever has served in it.  I mean no disrespect to military people.  My father served in World War II, and I have a nephew serving in Afghanistan right now.  I respect our military people, I wish them only well, and I do not judge the decision they made to enter the military; but I am frankly disturbed by the way we have taken to calling all American military people heroes.  Everyone who wears an American military uniform or who ever did is now a hero.  I’m sure some of them are heroes in various ways, some through committing incredible acts of courage on behalf of others; but all of them?  Just because they’re in the military?  I don’t think so.  And because we call them all heroes, it’s harder for us to oppose the things our government sends them to do.

A few days before Veterans Day I turned on the pregame show for the Oregon-Georgetown men’s basketball game that was played at an Army base in South Korea.  The ESPN announcers began the show by saying that they thanked all the men and women in the military for “protecting our freedom” and “defending our democracy.”  I thought:  Really?  Is that what they’re doing?  Aren’t they really projecting American imperial power around the world in ways that have nothing to do with defending our freedom and protecting our democracy from actual threats, of which there are in truth rather few?  That’s sure how it seems to me.  But we’re told over and over again that they’re all heroes who are defending and protecting us.  Have we forgotten that the purpose of the military is to inflict destruction, injury, and death on other people?  Have we so romanticized the military that we’ve forgotten that awful truth?  I’m afraid we have.

My friends, we live in a culture that more and more romanticizes violence and glamorizes the military, whose reason for being is violence.  Violence has become the norm in our entertainment.  Violence has become the norm in our presence in the world.  Violence has become the norm of our national life.  Perhaps we don’t want to admit it, but violence is the American way.  To some extent it always has been, but it’s gotten worse.  Much worse.

We’re Americans of course, but here’s the thing.  We’re also Christians; and if our being Christians means anything at all, surely it means that we seek to live according to the will and ways of the God we know in and through Jesus Christ.  We never do it perfectly of course, and you don’t have to agree with me on what I think the divine will and ways are; but please consider.  The God we know in and through Jesus Christ is fundamentally, foundationally, radically nonviolent.  That God just is.  I’m not making that up.  If we read the Gospels with an open mind and without all the filters that established Christianity has put on us, we will see that nonviolence was Jesus’ way.  It was what Jesus taught.  It was what Jesus lived.  It was how Jesus died.  Yes, there is divine violence in the Bible.  But books like Revelation that contain so much divine violence simply contradict the life and the teachings of Jesus.  Jesus lived and taught nonviolence, and he did that because he knew that God is nonviolent.  He knew that God calls us to be nonviolent too.  That’s just how it is.  I’m really not making that up.

Our Gospel passage this morning is part of Luke’s version of what scholars call the little apocalypse of Mark.  Luke took and modified it from Chapter 13 of the Gospel of Mark.  This little apocalypse is difficult and problematic in many ways, but I think there is a message in it for us this morning.  In our version from Luke it says “When you hear of wars and insurrections….”  In Mark, which Luke has modified a bit, the line is “When you hear of wars and rumors of wars….”  Most of what Luke mentions as things that are to come—wars, insurrections, earthquakes, famines, plagues—sounds to me pretty much like life on earth as usual, not as something that didn’t exist but that is to come.  In any event, those things do describe our present reality pretty well.  Certainly we hear constantly of wars and rumors of wars, to use Mark’s phrase for it.  We have been at war in Afghanistan since 2002.  Within the last thirty years we have been at war in Iraq twice, once for many years with devastating consequences for that country that continue today.  We have used military force in Yugoslavia.  We have engaged in military operations in Somalia and elsewhere.  And rumors of wars?  Recently there were rumors of us going to war in Syria.  We hear rumors of war with Iran or at least of a lot of hawks calling for war with Iran.  Wars and rumors of wars are a normal part of our everyday existence.  We have even made them part of our entertainment.  We watch and digitally manipulate violence for fun.  Luke, and his source Mark, knew whereof they spoke.

So what are we to do?  Well, Luke gives us at least a partial answer to that question.  He says that all the travail that he says will come “will give you an opportunity to testify.”  In the midst of all of the turmoil and suffering of the world, in the midst of wars and rumors of war, we have an opportunity to testify.  As our culture becomes more and more violent, we have an opportunity to testify.  As we expose our children to more and more graphic violence on television, in movies, in video games, and in the news we have an opportunity to testify. 

Luke says we have an opportunity to testify.  I’d say we have a duty to testify.  That video game I talked about at the beginning of this sermon is called Call of Duty.  Well, I hear a call of duty too, only it isn’t a call to violence like that video game is.  It is a call to testify.  Testify yes, but to what?  To the way of nonviolence.  To our Lord of nonviolence.  To our God of nonviolence.  To the sinfulness of violence.  To the harm that all violence does to God’s beloved people (and all people are God’s beloved people).  We have a duty to testify to the harm violence does to God’s good creation.  To the way our human violence hurts, saddens, and even angers God.  To Jesus’ call to all people to a better way, to the way of peace, compassion, forgiveness, and care for all people. 

Friends, I am really disturbed these days by many things—global warming, the takeover of our political system by the richest one or two percent of our population, our refusal to provide health care to all, by the prevalence of homelessness and poverty among us, and many other things as well.  But most of all this morning I’m disturbed by my culture’s violence.  I’m disturbed by the way we glamorize and romanticize violence.  I’m disturbed by the way we see guns and violence as a solution to nearly every problem.  So this morning I testify.  I testify against violence and for Jesus Christ and for God and their way of nonviolence.  We live constantly with wars and rumors of wars.  It’s about time we stopped.  Amen.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

That's Not What They're Doing


That’s Not What They’re Doing!
Reflections on the Role of the American Military 

Not long ago I turned on ESPN and got the pregame for a college men’s basketball game between my Oregon Ducks and Georgetown that was to be played at an American Army base in South Korea.  The commentators began their show by thanking every American serving in uniform for “protecting our freedom.”  They called them all heroes for “defending our democracy.”  I mean no disrespect for our people in the military, but I just wanted to scream at the television:  That’s not what they’re doing!  It just flat isn’t.  These simple sportscasters were mouthing the myths of the American military.  We justify maintaining a military apparatus grossly out of proportion to any legitimate defense needs by saying that whatever our military forces are doing it amounts to protecting our freedom and defending our democracy; and it’s all a lie.  The myth we tell connects our people to the military and to the purposes for which our political leaders use it, but it’s all a lie.  That’s not what they’re doing.

Consider the facts.  Who, if anyone, is threatening our freedom and our democracy today, other than the Republican Party of course (and no, I am not advocating using the Army against the Republican Party).  No nation is threatening us through a traditional, organized military force.  Yes, the Russians have the capability of hitting us with long range atomic weapons, but they certainly have no intention of doing so.  Why would they?  They have absolutely nothing to gain from it and human civilization to lose.  We have land borders with only two nations, Canada and Mexico.  We hardly need to spend nearly as much on the military as the rest of the world combined like we do to defend ourselves from nonexistent threats from Canada and Mexico.  No nation on earth has the ability to invade us from the sea.  There simply is no conventional military threat to our existence, to our freedom, or our democracy.  There just isn’t.

There is a threat to our safety from terrorists.  There’s no point in denying that painful and tragic reality.  They, however, are hardly a threat to our existence.  If they are a threat to our freedom or our democracy it’s our own doing, not theirs.  We are so willing to compromise our freedoms and pervert our democracy in the name of fighting terrorism that the terrorists have had some success in that regard, and they remain a threat in that way.  Yet what we need to be defended against is less the terrorists themselves than it is our reaction to their threat.  We’re really good at reacting in ways that compromise our freedom and generate wave after wave of new terrorists hell bent on hurting us.  No one can contend that what our military forces are doing is defending us from ourselves, so this reality doesn’t make the claim that our military is defending our freedom and protecting our democracy true.

So clearly our conventional military forces are not defending our freedom and protecting our democracy, so what are they doing?  They are projecting American imperial power around the globe.  We do not have what, by worldly standards, would be a reasonable military force.  We have an imperial military.  We have military forces that function not to defend us but to impose our presence around the world.  They may be protecting some of our interests, or, more correctly, they may be defending some of the interests of the wealthy elite who really run this country.  We have substantial military forces in the Persian Gulf region to protect our oil supply for example.  Our forces may still be fighting Communism, never mind that Communism is dead.  That’s why we still have those forces in South Korea for my Oregon Ducks to play basketball in front of.  It’s not that our military forces don’t function.  It’s not that they don’t have a mission.  That function and that mission are not, however, to defend our freedom and protect our democracy.

So why do we say that those things are their mission?  Why do the American people buy the lie that that is their mission despite all of the undeniable evidence to the contrary?  Because people are gullible.  Because the ruling elites have a massive investment in keeping the American people on the side of the military.  Because we have to convince ourselves that spending those massive amounts of money on the military is somehow worth it.  Because, since thank God we don’t have a draft, the military needs to keep getting people to volunteer for military service.  Because those who volunteer and their families need to believe that they are doing something worthwhile.  There are lots of reasons why we believe that our military is defending our freedom and protecting our democracy.  Problem is, that that claim is true isn’t one of those reasons.  That’s simply not what they are doing.  We will never have a sound, healthy nation until we stop living the lies we tell about our military and start dealing realistically with the world as it actually is.