Last Pentecost A
November 23, 2008
“Almighty and Everlasting God,
whose will it is to restore all things… Mercifully grant that the peoples
of the earth, divided and enslaved by sin… may be freed and brought together…”
In the early 17th Century, when Puritan Jonathan Winthrop set out from England,
he and his followers sailing on the Arbella imagined their arrival in the New
World—a New England which they would make into a Modell
of Christian Charitie
Looking back through the lens of history, scholars of 18th century America point
out how the Puritan Experiment, as noble as it was complex, set out in hope
of raising up saints managing instead to construct a platform for the new citizenry.
Democracy, not theocracy, would be the foundation of an evolving American Experiment.
This is not to say that God or Christianity was uprooted from the grounding
of our new nation. Rather, it is to suggest that the relationship between church
and state has always been at least ambiguous and usually unstable.
To wit, throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, God’s place in America
and America’s place in God’s plan has generated many a sermon, myriad
cultural conundrums and more than a few policy debates. In the waning years
of the 20th century we, who had grown up in the generation of the dead God,
found ourselves surprised by the resurrected God-enthusiasts, euphemistically
referred to as religious fundamentalists; euphemistically, that is, because
throughout our history it has been not only conservatives but also liberals
who have called upon the name of God, the text of Holy Writ and the ethics of
theologians to forward various social projects in the public square.
Throughout our history as a nation it has been an American tradition to call
upon the name of God and the tradition of Christianity. Our most recent presidential
campaign was no exception. A weekly journal, The Christian Century, commented:
“Speakers at the Republican Convention mentioned God 43 times; speakers
at the Democratic Convention 22 times. One thing was clear: American civil religion
is alive and well. At both events God was regularly invoked as the guide and
protector of American greatness” (The Christian Century, Oct. 7, 2008).
America’s “civil” religion is neither a new concept nor a
new phenomenon. America’s civil religion, however, should not be confused
with Christian religion. Historically, many politicians have confused the two.
Tying “God closely to American greatness and to the promise of America[,]
the hope and faith they confessed was hope and faith in America” (emphasis
mine; The Christian Century). Way back when, and as recently as this presidential
election cycle, hope and faith in America has been expressed primarily as “the
promise of individual achievement.” In political conventions, State of
the Union addresses and town green Thanksgiving prayers our American “stories…of
individuals rising above circumstance and triumphing against the odds”
are legend. “Only in America…if you work hard enough, success is
assured” (The Christian Century).
Of course, we know that such a telling is too simplistic a tale. The individual—as
glorified an American icon as it is—cannot do it on her or his own. Interesting,
isn’t it then, that as this year’s election approached, we became
all the more centered on the potential of a particular individual to get the
job done—“the person of Obama: his gravity, his deliberateness,
his ability not to lose his temper, his way of modeling a certain evenness…”
that can carry hope forward into action in our very troubling times. Following
the election, cultural critic Judith
Butler cautioned that the promise is alluring. Yet, “[w]hat is the
chance that we may end up suffering a certain inevitable disappointment when
this charismatic leader displays his fallibility, his willingness to compromise…?....
In order for his presidency to be successful, it will have to lead to some disappointment,
and to survive disappointment: the man will become human, will prove less powerful
than we might wish… and politics will prove to be less a messianic experience
than a venue for robust debate, public criticism and necessary antagonism”
(Butler).
Yes, some disillusionment will be a good thing. For in politics, as with religion,
it is good to be reminded that it is less about the individual charismatic person
than it is about all of the people. Real change comes about when, in a lively
and open public square, all the people talk it through, commit to it and work
for it, willing to sacrifice to bring about conditions of greater liberty and
justice for all.
A relationship between religion and politics is a good thing. The danger is
when “civil religion encourages us to live in a fantasy world in which
the U.S. is the country that counts most and individual effort conquers all
obstacles. The Christian religion by contrast, would encourage us to be in solidarity
with those who are not making it” (Christian Century) and, in words from
our opening prayer, to acknowledge God as our most gracious guide and ruler,
rather than to measure the worth of other people and nations by our own plans.
Ezekiel offers us the vision that comes with such acknowledgment: “Thus
says the Lord God: I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out.
As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep,
so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places to which
they have been scattered…. I will seek the lost, and I will bring back
the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak….
I will feed them with justice”.
With such a godly vision and given the challenges for America today, what is
going to be the right mixture of religion and politics, the meet and right balance
of church and state? First, we need recognize that in the equation it is not
“Church” but churches. In our nation, there is no monolithic Christianity
but rather a wide variety of religious experience and perspective. Second, in
relation to the state, there are not only churches but also temples and mosques.
Our American Constitution enshrines the freedom of religion, which in today’s
world includes the diversity of religions. This freedom and diversity needs
be reflected in the conversation and debate that takes place in the public square.
Just as there is no Divine Right of Kings, there are no privileged positions
for the way in which any one group worships the Divine—nor any essentialized
and privileged foregone conclusions of a moral nature: from stem cells to gay
marriage, from Iraq and Afghanistan to Guantanamo Bay, from receding glaciers
to economic recessions. Healthcare and hunger are no longer the complex issues
and human casualties of underdeveloped nations alone. We are groaning under
the burden of underdeveloped social policies here in the U.S. Our children are
undernourished; our parents and workers exposed.
In the first hundred days of this new presidency, in the months and years ahead
for the American nation, what is going to be the right balance of power when
it comes to faith and policy formation? A healthy America, a vibrant democracy,
is one in which its soul is an open and accessible public square into which
we all can bring our ideas, aspirations, questions and concerns—our faith,
our hope, our love—and respectfully explore, debate and construct a consensus
for the common good. And what is the common good, the commonweal? Just as the
reading from Ezekiel gives us a vision, this morning’s Gospel from Matthew
offers us an action plan. Just as God will guide and protect the sheep, Jesus
teaches that we the sheep grow up into shepherds—people who upon seeing
the hungry, vulnerable and marginalized recognize Christ and commit ourselves,
even with those the world would count least, and work for the dignity and freedom
of every person. For we citizens of the world yet hear the call to sainthood:
“Truly I tell you, just as you feed, clothe and shelter the least of these
who are members of my family, you did it to me.” Our common weal is a
shared responsibility. In Christ, our commonwealth is not an American property
or asset or even our American nation. In Christ, our commonwealth is a covenanted
promise we hold in common and share as resources with the many peoples of the
world—“not only in this age but also in the age to come”.
Amen.