I am convinced that we take the wonder and peculiarity of the Christian story for granted. Our ancient forebears, not weighed down with sappy sentimentality or rationalistic reductionism, knew better. I came across the following quote by St. Cyril of Jerusalem while researching a sermon and I thought it was too good not to share. This is from his catechetical lectures on the sacraments:
“O strange and inconceivable thing! We did not really die, we were not really buried, we were not really crucified and raised again; but our imitation was in a figure, and our salvation in reality. Christ was actually crucified, and actually buried, and truly rose again; and all these things He has freely bestowed upon us, that we, sharing His sufferings by imitation, might gain salvation in reality. O surpassing loving-kindness! Christ received nails in His undefiled hands and feet, and suffered anguish; while on me without pain or toil by the fellowship of His suffering He freely bestows salvation.”
St. Cyril contrasts the visceral reality of the cross and resurrection experienced by Christ with that which is symbolized and beautifully enacted in baptism. What is inconceivable – if you’ll pardon the Princess Bride reference – is that all that Christ won in his conquest of death by death is ours without the torment he willingly embraced. Through the confession of the true faith and baptism in the Triune name, we come to know “the fellowship of His suffering” and salvation is bestowed as a free gift.
Let us never lose sight of the strangeness of the gospel, and how – inconceivably – God has condescended to us in Jesus Christ by the power of the Spirit for our redemption.
What does it look like to share in “the fellowship” of Christ’s suffering? How does your baptism inform your daily walk with God? Leave a comment or question below!
I am not interested in any church renewal that is not sacramental – which is to say – is not Christian in any kind of historically or liturgically identifiable sense. Anyone can draw a crowd, but happily God loves us too much to leave us with only marketing tricks and technocratic delights. Instead, God has called His Church to glorify him through prayer, service, song, witness, preaching, and celebrating the sacraments. Chief among the sacraments, the most potent of the means of grace, is the Eucharist, also known as Holy Communion or the Lord’s Supper. United Methodist pastor and professor Kenneth Loyer has just written a book on this sacred meal that explains not just its importance as a rite of the church, but the critical role it can play in the vitality of the local congregation.
Holy Communion: Celebrating God With Us is part of the new Belief Matters series by Abingdon, edited by retired UM Bishop and Duke Divinity School professor Will Willimon. Willimon wrote the first volume on the Incarnation, and my Western NC Conference colleague Jason Byassee has written the next entry on the Trinity (which I am told is excellent). This series “takes as its task the joyful celebration of the wonder of Christian believing.” (xi) It seeks to make doctrine accessible and interesting to both laity and clergy alike, a much needed task today.
Loyer organizes his book in terms of the Communion’s own structure and ethos. Thus, he begins with a discussion of thanksgiving, which is what what most of the Eucharistic liturgy actually is – an epic prayer normally called The Great Thanksgiving in Western practice. Much of this chapter is a kind of commentary on the whole of the liturgy itself, which is a highlight of the book. The next chapter focuses on the practice of active remembering; the liturgy re-members us (literally, puts us back together) as the Body of Christ remembers all that God has done in Jesus Christ to effect our salvation. Drawing on John Wesley’s own Eucharistic piety, Loyer reflects, “we neglect this gift of God’s grace at our own peril.” (44)
After thanksgiving and remembering, the author turns to celebration. Communion does not merely invite us to recall what God has done, but to celebrate the risen Christ’s continued, transforming presence with us now. The story in this chapter of Mandela receiving communion with one of his prison guards is worth the price of admission. In the final chapter, we explore the eschatological dimension of the Eucharist. At the Lord’s Supper, we not only remember what Jesus has done and celebrate his continued grace through the Holy Spirit now, we also look forward. Communion is thus a Kingdom meal that gives us a foretaste of the coming heavenly banquet that Isaiah foretold so well. “On this mountain the Lord Almighty will prepare a feast of rich food for all peoples,” a feast which we anticipate every time we gather around Christ’s table today. (Is. 25:6)
Interspersed throughout is Loyer’s own pastoral experience. Specifically, he connects the initiation of a mid-week Communion service to a revitalization in ministry for his congregation, Otterbein UMC in Pennsylvania. “God has used this feast of our faith,” Rev. Dr. Loyer notes, “to nourish us in Christ and to generate an increased desire for God that has spread throughout the life of the congregation.” (63) While the author does not emphasize this and I do not find it the most interesting claim he makes, it’s worth noting that under Loyer’s leadership his church has grown from 90 in attendance to 170. At a time when many of our small churches are stagnant or are in decline, this a feat worth attending. Of course, it should be no surprise that spiritual and missional renewal and the Eucharist are heavily linked. The Walk to Emmaus and similar communities have attested to this reality for decades.
To sum up: I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in Holy Communion, spiritual renewal, or church vitality. Loyer’s offering is highly readable yet still substantive. Indeed, there is plenty of meat on the bones here even for those well-read in liturgical theology and worship or church growth more broadly. Moreover, each chapter contains a series of reflection questions and a prayer, making it ideal for small groups and Sunday School classes. I highly recommend this new resource for both, as well as church-wide study.
There is no renewal in the church worth having unless the sacramental life is at its center. Ken Loyer’s book both makes this case and helps us imagine what it might look like in practice.
Everything old is new again. It’s painful to watch a well-worn thesis go viral 30 years late and with someone else’s name attached. Many folks have been talking about this self-aggrandizing piece by famous I-used-to-be-evangelical-but-now-I’m-enlightened blogger Rachel Held Evans (henceforth RHE). Aside from seeing it all over Facebook and Twitter, I have unchurched friends sending me messages about it, I see some of my denominational supervisors writing about it, and I overhear colleagues talk about it at meetings. Thus it’s hard to argue that RHE is certainly an impressive trend in the progressive Christian blogosphere. The problem is, her prescription for bringing millennials back to the church is at least 30 years old. Robert Webber made this case just a couple of years after I was born. The idea for which Evans is being laudedis literally as old as the millennials she intends to draw back.
RHE’s re-warmed argument runs as such:
“In response, many churches have sought to lure millennials back by focusing on style points: cooler bands, hipper worship, edgier programming, impressive technology. Yet while these aren’t inherently bad ideas and might in some cases be effective, they are not the key to drawing millennials back to God in a lasting and meaningful way. Young people don’t simply want a better show. And trying to be cool might be making things worse.”
If young people don’t “simply want a better a better show,” don’t tell that to the fastest-growing megachurch in my state. I may find the show aesthetically offensive, the methods manipulative, and the content lacking, but that doesn’t mean many churches have not found this prescription “successful.” If it is now cliché to the sophisticated palate of RHE, it is only because this formula has been useful in many places and for many years. Time will tell if young adults are now growing wise to the marketing. In my own small town, the churches that are attracting millennials the fastest are still following the above formula that Evans finds passé.
That doesn’t mean she’s totally wrong, though. What attracted RHE to sacramental Christianity includes many of the reasons I love and practice it:
“What finally brought me back, after years of running away, wasn’t lattes or skinny jeans; it was the sacraments. Baptism, confession, Communion, preaching the Word, anointing the sick — you know, those strange rituals and traditions Christians have been practicing for the past 2,000 years. The sacraments are what make the church relevant, no matter the culture or era. They don’t need to be repackaged or rebranded; they just need to be practiced, offered and explained in the context of a loving, authentic and inclusive community.”
The problem is that Evans’ solution is in danger of underwriting “the form of godliness without the power.” (2 Tim. 3:5) I would certainly agree that the aesthetics of Holy Communion or Ash Wednesday are far more powerful than a coffee bar or strobe lights. But if these wonderful practices are divorced from their doctrinal content, they are little more than nice rituals and not a means of grace.
Which brings us to RHE’s solution: The Episcopal Church. To be blunt, if the Episcopalians were drawing in millennials the way RHE’s analysis suggests they should be, then statistically TEC would not be dying out faster than Blockbuster. Evans does suggest one need not be a part of a denomination that is historically sacramental, but this is only to double down on the problem: going through the motions of ritual without the ecclesiology or doctrinal commitments which underlie them creates just another hip activity to do on Sunday.
Holy Communion serves as an example of why form and content must be in harmony. To name just three potential problems related to the Eucharist: absent (1) a sacramental theology capable of claiming that what happens at the table is something more than a snack, or (2) a Christology capable of handling the theological freight of the Great Thanksgiving, or (3) a soteriology that recognizes the need to repent for sins of omission and sins of commission, this highest point of Christian worship becomes dead ritual, an aesthetic experience that pleases but does not transform.*
I don’t pretend to know what millennials want (even though I am one) because I don’t believe I can read a few polls, talk to my friends, and thereby understand everyone in my generation. That said, I am quite sure that we should not design churches to fit the fancies of the same people who have made The Real World a successful franchise and the Kardashians famous. Thus the appeal of the ancient forms of worship not designed by me or for me, an appeal which I gladly confess.
But the ancient forms demand substance to match the style. I don’t know what millennials want, but what (read: Who) millennials need is the God revealed in the Bible and confessed in the creeds and liturgies of the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church. Mainline churches like TEC and my own United Methodist Church reflect that apostolic teaching and practice on paper, but on the ground our pastors and other leaders too often compromise core Trinitarian and Christological confessions which frame Christian life and practice. (The story of two “bishops,” Sprague and Spong, is enough evidence to suffice here.) When this happens, we are trying to plant heirloom roses in poisoned soil.
As much as anyone else, I want millennials (indeed, all people) to know fellowship with the Three-One God and life in the Body of Christ. With the ancient church and the Reformers, I believe the sacraments are among the most wonderful gifts of God. This remains the case whether a critical mass of millennials find them “relevant” or not. Of course, catechesis (teaching) about Christian worship in general and the sacraments in particular is necessary to help any new Christians connect with liturgical practice, as with anything not immediately self-evident.
But let’s not forget that form needs power; Webber, who originated Evans’ thesis, was very aware of the necessity to maintain the Christian story. The practices of Christian liturgy without the doctrinal and ethical content which undergird them are little more than mansions built on sand. Ritual without substance won’t do anyone – millennial or otherwise – any good at all.
P.S. The impressive growth of the ACNA – not all of which can be attributed to schism and sheep stealing, but at least in part to church planting and doctrinal fidelity – serves as a useful foil to TEC’s statistics and an example of what happens when the ancient and apostolic form meets the content for which it was intended.
*This assumes, of course, a heart transformed by the love of God and a life of prayer, service, mercy, and justice. Doctrine and ethics, faith and practice, go together – they do not compete with each other.
Desperate times call for heretical measures. The Greater New Jersey Conference has announced an Advent outreach event designed to share the love of Christ with commuters at busy train stations throughout the Garden State: give the bread and cup to passers-by. Building on a a similar practice increasingly embraced on Ash Wednesday – taking liturgical rites to public places – the Greater NJ Conference hopes to meet people where they are:
As a part of the All Aboard for Advent Campaign, pastors and lay leaders who live near train stations throughout the Greater New Jersey area are being called to bring communion to daily commuters at train station platforms.
“I think it ties in with our belief of having a ministry without doors,” said Rev. Frederick Boyle, the senior pastor at Old First UMC in West Long Branch. “To give communion to commuters will come as quite a surprise to them for sure. But I think spreading God’s blessing is important and we need to do that whenever and wherever we can.”
I hate to rain on the Christmas parade, but this kind of practice is implicitly forbidden by the official (General Conference-certified) document expounding the UM theology and practice of Communion, This Holy Mystery. All throughout, THM presupposes a gathered community for the celebration of the Eucharist. For reasons I explained at length here during the debate over “online communion,” the gathering of a community is essential to the nature of the act (and visiting the sick and homebound is not so much an exception to this rule as it is an extension of the table in proper pastoral circumstances). As THM makes clear throughout, Holy Communion is indeed a communion:
Holy Communion is the communion of the church-the gathered community of the faithful, both local and universal. While deeply meaningful to the individuals participating, the sacrament is much more than a personal event. The first person pronouns throughout the ritual are consistently plural-we, us, our.
Since train communion (unless done as a full, public worship service, which doesn’t seem to be what is proposed) is a bad idea, I don’t want to leave my NJ colleagues hanging. Here are ten ideas (in no particular order) for Advent outreach that are better, and far less offensive to UM theology and practice, than train communion. I owe this idea, in part, to Carol Bloom who proposed several of these alternatives during a recent discussion in the UMC Worship Facebook group – so thanks, Carol!
Prayer Stations: Pray with and for people. Very few people – even the nonreligious and nominally religious – will punch you in the face if you ask to pray for them.
Blue Christmas: Sometimes called a Longest Night service, these worship services are a great way to offer hope to the many in our communities who are hurting during the holidays.
Free Hot Cocoa/Coffee: Who doesn’t love a hot beverage in the dead of winter? Also pairs well with #1.
Gift Wrapping: Many of us (your humble author included) are terrible at wrapping gifts. Offer a free gift wrapping station at a local shopping center.
Advent Calendars/Devotionals: Advent gets too easily run over by the commercialism of the holiday season. Hand out Advent calendars or devotionals to help people remember Jesus in the midst of the hustle and bustle.
Parents’ Night Out: Sponsor a parents’ night out for the community; get some Doritos and board games, throw on Elf, and let the parents drop off their kids so they can have a date night and do their shopping.
Free Bibles: If you give out whole Bibles you’ll already be doubling the effort of the Gideons.
Christmas Meal: Odds are there are people in your community who either can’t afford a Christmas meal or don’t have family to celebrate it with, or both. Reach out to them in with Christian love…and mashed potatoes.
Go Caroling: Pick a neighborhood, a nursing home, or a homeless shelter and spread some Christmas cheer. Against such things there is no law.
Thank the Train Employees: Okay, this one is specific to Jersey, and other places with lots of public transportation. The idea is very transferable, though. Pick some public servants in thankless jobs and show them some appreciation and holiday cheer. Take care packages to the local police station. Send cards to the neighborhood fire house. Do something for the nurses that will be working while the rest of us celebrate. You get the idea.
There. Ten ideas for Advent outreach that do not run afoul of This Holy Mystery, many of which could even be done in and around train stations. How about it, GNJUMC? Are you #allaboardumc with a slight change in plans?
I close with the words of Brian Wren from one of my favorite Communion hymns, I Come With Joy. He reminds us that the sacrament, for which we gather and by which we are united, sends us out to fulfill the Missio Dei in a variety of ways – but hopefully none which deny the nature and dignity of the Eucharist itself.
Together met, together bound,
by all that God has done,
we’ll go with joy, to give the world,
the love that makes us one.
The UMC has just had a rather interesting public debate: is it appropriate to celebrate the sacrament of communion online? While this is something that is being done in various churches, including some experimentation in United Methodist communities, this is the first time significant leadership of the church has gathered to discuss it. Many things are at issue:
To what extent is online community real community?
How do we balance the call to be missional with the call to liturgical and ecumenical integrity?
How does the classical Christian rejection of Gnosticism and affirmation of Incarnation play into this discussion?
How are the Eucharistic elements blessed, and can that blessing be extended via technological means?
Larry Hollon and other thoughtful folks have weighed in on this, but I want to offer my own reflection. This debate has been in my back yard, so to speak, as the precipitating event for this discussion was Central UMC Concord’s plan to celebrate communion as part of their new online campus. I have already spilled much ink on this (and if you want more, email me) but I just found something helpful in an unlikely place: Michael Pollan’s Food Rules. Pollan is a renowned food journalist, author of The Omnivore’s Dilemma, and an outspoken critic of pretty much everything about Western eating habits. Rule 59 reads,
“Americans are increasingly eating in solitude. Although there is some research to suggest that light eaters will eat more when they dine with others (perhaps because they spend more time at the table), for people prone to overeating, communal meals tend to limit consumption, if only because we’re less likely to stuff ourselves when others are watching. We also tend to eat more slowly, since there’s usually more going on at the table than ingestion. This is precisely why so much food marketing is designed to encourage us to eat in front of the TV or in the car: When we eat alone, we eat more. But regulating appetite is only part of the story: The shared meal elevates eating from a biological process of fueling the body to a ritual of family and community.”
Like all good eating, the Eucharist is a ritual of family and community, a shared meal in which much more is going on than mere ingestion. Pollan is on to something when he says the marketers are driving us to eat alone for a reason: we eat badly when we eat alone, separate from a community of friends who would elevate our dining to something sacred.
Pollan is trying to help us recover something that is at the heart of Jewish and Christian spirituality: the beauty of table fellowship.
Christians, on the other hand, seem hell-bent on the Burger King-ing of worship (your way, right away). When it comes to our own peculiar form of communal eating, in which Jesus is both host and offering, I pray we listen more to Pollan and less to Burger King.
Decades ago, Albert Outler put his finger on the origin of this debate within Methodism:
“One of the most obvious of Methodism’s paradoxes . . . is that we are the only major ‘church family’ in Christian history that began as an evangelical sect within a sacramental church and then evolved into a quasi-sacramental church . . . without an adequate self-understanding for doing so.”
The journey from “quasi-sacramental” back to our roots – and really, the deeper taproot of the wider Body of Christ – is really just beginning. For now, at least, the center holds.
What does it mean for Christian worship to descend into mere secularism? According to Fr. Alexander Schmemann, the secularist mindset has an inability to appreciate symbol. This failure leads to the use of symbols as only teaching tools, a utilitarian move that ultimately leads to the destruction of Christian symbols themselves and Christian worship as a whole. This is particularly true when one looks at the misuse, abuse, or poor celebration of the sacrament par excellence, the Eucharist:
But the whole point here is that the secularist is constitutionally unable to see in symbols anything but ‘audio-visual aids’ for communicating ideas. Last winter a group of students and teachers of a well-known seminary spent a semester “working” on a “liturgy” centered the following “themes”: the S.S.T., ecology, and the flood in Pakistan. No doubt they “meant well.” It is their presuppositions which are wrong: that the traditional worship can have no “relevance” to these themes and has nothing to reveal about them, and that unless a “theme” is somehow clearly spelled out in the liturgy, or made into its “focus,” it is obviously outside the spiritual reach of liturgical experience. The secularist is very fond today of terms such as “symbolism,” “sacrament,” “transformation,” “celebration,” and of the entire panoply of cultic terminology. What he does not realize, however, is that the use he makes of them reveals, in fact, the death of symbols and the decomposition of the sacrament. And he does not realize this because in his rejection of the world’s and man’s sacramentality he is reduced to viewing symbols as indeed mere illustrations of ideas and concepts, which they emphatically are not.
It seems to me that the elephant in the room here is the extreme anti-Catholic wing of Reformation, represented by folks like Zwingli for whom that which church throughout time and space has called sacraments are reduced, instead, to mere “symbols.” As a professor of mine once said, “If they are just symbols, then the hell with them!” Point being, there is no reason to make the entrance to the church (baptism) and the meal that constitutes the church and continually feeds us of God’s grace (Eucharist) such central acts of Christian worship if they are only “symbolic.” For there are other symbols. There are simpler symbols, more relevant, more accessible, more modern and easier to market. Schmemann concludes this section with the following:
To anyone who has had, be it only once, the true experience of worship, all this is revealed immediately as the ersatz that it is. He knows that the secularist’s worship of relevance is simply incompatible with the true relevance of worship. And it is here, in this miserable liturgical failure, whose appalling results we are only beginning to see, that secularism reveals its ultimate religious emptiness and, I will not hesitate to say, its utterly un-Christian essence. (For the Life of the World, 125-126, emphasis added.)
Note: This post was edited to reflect a corrected understanding of Zwingli within the history of the Reformation. I had incorrectly associated him with the Radical Reformation, while he was clearly in the reformed camp. I only meant to associate him with the anti-sacramental edge – he did go further away from Rome on the Eucharist than did Luther, Calvin, and the Anglicans – but I had listed him in the wrong tribe. Thanks to Shaun Brown for the correction.
Seems like an appropriate read for the 4th of July: John Wesley’s letter to the Methodist ‘Brethren’ in America, following the conclusion of the American Revolution and the need for the American Methodists to become an independent body. Note the primary reason for Wesley’s sending of Coke and Asbury: the need for the sacraments, despite his own discomfort with breaking Church of England order. Also notice how odd he thinks it is that there is no national church. Fascinating stuff. Courtesy of The Wesley Center Online at Northwest Nazarene University.
1. By a very uncommon train of providences many of the’ Provinces of North America are totally disjoined from their Mother Country and erected into independent States. The English Government has no authority over them, either civil or ecclesiastical, any more than over the States of Holland. A civil authority is exercised over them, partly by the Congress, partly by the Provincial Assemblies. But no one either exercises or claims any ecclesiastical authority at all. In this peculiar situation some thousands of the inhabitants of these States desire my advice; and in compliance with their desire I have drawn up a little sketch.
2. Lord King’s Account of the Primitive Church [See heading to letter of Dec. 30, 1745, to Westley Hall.] convinced me many years ago that bishops and presbyters are the same order, and consequently have the same right to ordain. For many years I have been importuned from time to time to exercise this right by ordaining part of our traveling preachers. But I have still refused, not only for peace’ sake, but because I was determined as little as possible to violate the established order of the National Church to which I belonged.
3. But the case is widely different between England and North America. Here there are bishops who have a legal jurisdiction: in America there are none, neither any parish ministers. So that for some hundred miles together there is none either to baptize or to administer the Lord’s supper. Here, therefore, my scruples are at an end; and I conceive myself at full liberty, as I violate no order and invade no man’s right by appointing and sending laborers into the harvest.
4. I have accordingly appointed Dr. Coke and Mr. Francis Asbury to be Joint Superintendents over our brethren in North America; as also Richard Whatcoat and Thomas Vasey to act as elders among them, by baptizing and administering the Lord’s Supper. And I have prepared a Liturgy little differing from that of the Church of England (I think, the best constituted National Church in the world), which I advise all the traveling preachers to use on the Lord’s Day in all the congregations, reading the Litany only on Wednesdays and Fridays and praying extempore on all other days. I also advise the elders to administer the Supper of the Lord on every Lord’s Day.
5. If any one will point out a more rational and scriptural way of feeding and guiding those poor sheep in the wilderness, I will gladly embrace it. At present I cannot see any better method than that I have taken.
6. It has, indeed, been proposed to desire the English bishops to ordain part of our preachers for America. But to this I object; (1) I desired the Bishop of London to ordain only one, but could not prevail. [See letter of Aug. 10, 1780.] (2) If they consented, we know the slowness of their proceedings; but the matter admits of no delay. (3) If they would ordain them now, they would likewise expect to govern them. And how grievously would this entangle us! (4) As our American brethren are now totally disentangled both from the State and from the English hierarchy, we dare not entangle them again either with the one or the other. They are now at full liberty simply to follow the Scriptures and the Primitive Church. And we judge it best that they should stand fast in that liberty wherewith God has so strangely made them free.
Gracious God, Who fills our plates with good food and our cups to overflowing:
We thank you that your Son eats with sinners, even those like Peter who deny him
and like Thomas who doubt him and like Judas who betray him.
We thank you that Jesus still prepares a feast for people like us. Help us to take our place at his table now, that we may feast at the great banquet to come. Amen.
It also occurred to me (and I’m probably not the first to notice this, though I haven’t heard it before myself) that this event recorded in the gospels is misnamed. If it were actually the “last” supper, then we would not be worshiping Jesus as the Christ and the Second Person of the Trinity. Jesus conquered death and went on eating and drinking; in fact, the disciples didn’t recognize him until he broke the bread (Emmaus).
We look forward to what John the Revelator calls “the marriage supper of the lamb,” in which the bride of Christ shall rejoice to see her savior face-to-face in unbroken communion in that Kingdom which is breaking in even now. Amen.
Louis XIV was one of the greatest kings that the world has ever known. He sat on the French throne for over 70 years and is still famous today for solidifying the power of the monarchy and claiming Divine Right of rule. He was called the Sun King, and he was called Louis the Great. In 1699 he called a priest named Jean-Baptiste Massillon to be his personal chaplain. When Louis died in 1715, he had left meticulous instructions with Massillon about has lavish funeral. He wanted a dramatic affair worthy of such a great king of France. He was to lie in state in a golden casket at the Notre Dame cathedral so that his subjects could come and pay their respects to him. The funeral was to be lit by a lone candle in the vast cathedral, for dramatic effect. Father Massillon carried out Louis’ instructions to a ‘t’, but when it came time to deliver the funeral sermon he added his own touch. As he began his sermon he went to the candle that stood over the King’s casket and snuffed it out, saying, “Only God is great.” (1)
We gather tonight in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the election eve to tell the world, “only God is great.” Whomever we elect, whomever sits in the Oval Office, real power and hope and authority resides in Jesus. Best of all, we don’t vote for him, we don’t have to elect him, he is already the one who is Elect, the One called by the Father in the strength of the Spirit to be our King and Lord and Master, to save us and to redeem the world. His Kingdom has come, is here, and is coming. We get to the live into that reality, remembering that the gospel means that Jesus resides not just in our hearts, but in our homes and places of work and in our neighborhoods.
We gather tonight as a sign of unity in the world divided; the talking heads say that this is the most divided campaign season in decades. It could be a long time before we know who the next President will be. We have spent recent days and weeks being bombarded with phone calls and fliers and commercials. Some of us have gotten into arguments with friends and family about who to vote for; others of us have dodged those conversations like the plague. I’m a preacher and I find politics interesting, which means I can never have a polite conversation anywhere I go!
Where do we put our real trust and hope? Christians are called to remember that Jesus does not want to be a part of our lives, but the center. Jesus is not one ruler among other rulers, the “spiritual” authority alongside other authorities, he is the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. If we believe the hype, our hope and security and future rest in a candidate, not on God. How many ads have you seen whose purpose is to frighten you into putting your hope into one of the candidates? If we take the advertising at its word, everything is up to the next President: your health care, your jobs, your personal safety, your gym membership, your tomato patch, and whether or not you will have to replace your spark plugs this year. If we believe the practical atheism of the election season, it’s all up to the President.
The Bible has some different thoughts about this. I thought of Louis XIV’s funeral story when I read the opening of Psalm 146: “Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help. When their breath departs, they return to the earth; on that very day their plans perish.” Human authorities have their purpose and their role, but don’t put your trust there. Trust God. Romans 13 is one of the clearest statements in the Bible about the purposes of worldly power, reminding us that our rulers (when they are doing their God-given work) are instruments of God to maintain peace and order. Paul says to be subject to the state because it is God’s servant, and give what is due (whether taxes or honor or respect) to all. Above all, give love, because love does not wrong a neighbor.
And love is in short supply these days. We don’t know how to disagree without being disagreeable, we get so wrapped up in holding the right position that we forget that being a Christian says something about HOW we hold our positions. John Danforth, a longtime US Senator who is also an Episcopal priest, writes “The problem is not that Christians are conservative or liberal, but that some are so confident that their position is God’s position that they become dismissive and intolerant toward others and divisive forces in our national life.” (2) As Jesus followers we are called to a different way: the way of peace, the way of reconciliation, the way of unity and love. We go to the Table tonight to remember the things that bring us together, the things that cannot be won or lost by a vote, the things that are God’s good gift to His children: faith, hope, and love.
Today, like many of you, I voted. Before I voted, I went to the bank. As I drove from my branch to the Presbyterian church where I vote, I thought, “this is where the world says all the power is.” The world says that power is found in the dollar, in bank accounts and hedge funds; that peace and wholeness and hope can be voted in or out of office. As Christians, we are called to say a defiant “no” to a world that has forgotten the truth. Jesus is Lord. To be a Christian is to cast your vote not for a President or Governor, but for a Savior, Lord, and Master. It is a vote for the poor, for the oppressed, for the prisoner and widow; to vote for Jesus is to vote for all of those the world would rather forget. Politicians go on and on about who will represent the middle class; Jesus says to remember “the least of these.” Politicians say, “peace through strength,” Jesus reigns from a cross. Politicians say, “vote for me,” but Jesus says, “I died for you.” Do not put your hope in kings, in Presidents, in any earthly power. Jesus is Lord. Let the church worship her king, and remember her first loyalty.
I close with a prayer from Stanley Hauerwas:
“Sovereign Lord, foolish we are, believing that we can rule ourselves by selecting this or that person to rule over us. We are at it again. Help us not to think it more significant than it is, but also give us and those we elect enough wisdom to acknowledge our follies. Help us laugh at ourselves, for without humor our politics cannot be humane. We desire to dominate and thus are dominated. Free us, dear Lord, for otherwise we perish. Amen.” (3)
In his brief but potent book The Lord’s Supper, Martin Marty has some too-close-to-home comments about the presence of the preacher at the Table. Describing the preaching that takes place before the meal, he comments,
If you are unfortunate, you will get a book review, a comment on world affairs, some how-to advice for personal success, or some doctrinal comment about the word. A good homily or sermon relentlessly plumbs a text and lets its depths reach you…preachers are fallible, but this meal is also for them and for their forgiveness, including forgiveness for sins they may demonstrate in the very act of preaching. And yet we call what they are doing “preaching the word of God.”
…[Afterwords,] someone asks, “Have you met the Lord today?” “Yes,” you say, “in the stumbling words of a laborious preacher.”
Thanks, Dr. Marty, for the reassurance that God can be met in bumbling, flawed folks like me. And thanks be to God, who uses our weakness for His greater glory. “For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.” (1 Cor. 1:25)