Sermons

The Counsel of the Nations

John Wilkinson                               Third Presbyterian Church  June 5, 2005                                 Psalm 33:1-12

The great 20th century theologian Emil Brunner once said that “a church exists for mission as a fire exists for burning.” I believe that to be true, and Third Presbyterian Church seeks to live that commitment out day by day, week by week, year by year. We commit a significant portion of our financial resources to what we call “outreach,” but more than that, we commit untold human resources on programs that seek to serve those in need – by collaborating, by advocating, by offering direct services like food and shelter and education. Those who give of themselves in this way know that their reward is in the giving, and that they receive so much more than they could ever give, and we are grateful for their commitment. Let us pray…O God of every nation, we thank you for the opportunity to serve you through the ministries of this congregation, ministries that seek to make a difference, to deliver your justice and hope, to share nourishment and education and shelter. We thank you for all these women and men, girls and boys, by whose giving of themselves is your grace extended. Bless them, and bless each of us, as we seek to bring your good news to a world in need. And now we ask you to open your word unto us, and transform us by your truth. For we pray in Christ’s name. Amen.

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Consider, if you would, this litany of current events… The debate over stem cell research. The controversy surrounding the death of Terry Schiavo. The existence, and use of, the death penalty. The presence of the Ten Commandments in courtrooms, and other religious symbols in public places. Judicial nominations, the filibuster, and the nuclear option – whatever that is. Prayer in public schools, and public school curriculum: creationism, intelligent design, evolution. War.

Consider all of these us political issues. But consider them as ethical and moral issues, and even as matters of faith. Because they are. All political issues with deep religious implications. Or perhaps religious issues with political implications.

By now you would know that I believe there to be no false dichotomy between matters of faith and matters of the world, that spirituality and social responsibility go hand in hand, that God is sovereign over all creation and not just the corner of the world called the church. I believe that, and presume it to be a core affirmation of the Reformed tradition of which we are a part and a great Presbyterian strength.

I presume that, and I presume to keep that commitment before us in our life and work. But I do not presume your politics, and I do not ask you to presume mine. If we are to be diverse on some things, we are to be diverse on many things. You shouldn’t care very much what I believe about certain political issues anyway. And yet, as my friend John Buchanan noted: “…it is not unreasonable to assume that everybody—each one—would like a little support from the pulpit.” He was speaking about the war in Iraq, but the larger point can be made. “That’s the dilemma,” Buchanan says. “You can’t ignore it, and no matter what you say, someone is going to be unhappy. And it is deepened by the preacher’s aim to be prophetic, to articulate God’s Word and God’s vision for humankind in the face of difficult political circumstances.”

Then Buchanan tells the story of Ernest Campbell, a great preacher and teacher of preaching. Campbell observed the tendency of the preacher to craft and deliver masterful homilies addressed to the president, the secretary of state, and the chief justice of the Supreme Court. Unfortunately, Campbell noted, those persons are probably not in the pews this Sunday. Buchanan concludes: “Who are in the pews are people who have different opinions, different political priorities, different convictions about whatever public issue is on the agenda, all of whom are hoping for some support or at least some light—from God’s Word preferably, not merely the preacher’s agenda—to be shed on the topic.” (The Power of Weakness, March 23, 2003)

So I will not presume, except to voice a deep and growing concern, having something to do with the litany of issues I just noted. We seem to be living in a transitional moment. Who knows what this will look like 10 or 25 or 50 years from now. But it seems that we are in the midst of a significant shift.

Politically, that is fine. The electorate will work that out somehow.

Religiously, that is fine as well, though clearly some shift is happening. National to local. Connectional to congregational. Liberal, perhaps, or progressive, or if not that at least centrist and middle of the road to more evangelical and conservative.

My concern is not really even about evangelicalism. The history of this congregation, let alone the history of this nation, would indicate seasons of ebb and flow for all kinds of movements and streams of thought. And besides, as committed as I am to unity and diversity in the body of Christ, I have to believe that there is room enough for us all.

And, parenthetically, we who would not necessarily call ourselves evangelical have much to learn from evangelicals, and vice versa. A passion for scripture, a deep commitment to mission.

My concern is this – my concern is where the shifting overlaps, and the growing influence of evangelicalism on American politics.

Again, I am not presuming anyone’s politics. My real concern is the certainty, absolute certainty, that is held, not only in faith commitments, but in the political implications of those faith commitments. These are not simply political opinions, to be debated fairly in the marketplace of ideas and to be decided by the electorate as we cast our votes. My concern is about political views that become political certainties because they are given birth by religious absolutes. And that further, those who disagree with a political view are not only incorrect politically, but beyond the pale theologically, and somehow un-Christian, or even anti-Christian.

That is my concern. I am not sure precisely what to do with this, except to share it confessionally, and begin to explore it on this Sunday and in other times and places. To search scripture. To search our tradition. To read the signs of the times and discern God’s voice and God’s will the best we can, and to do so with humility, seeking clarity.

We must share our voice. To do anything less would be less than faithful to the gospel that claims us. But it cannot be a Republican voice or a Democratic voice. It must be a different voice, based on gospel values.

As far as I can tell, two fundamental gospel values are as timely today as they ever have been: 1) that God is a God of peace and that war represents great human failure; and 2) that God is a God of abundance and that poverty represents another great human failure. Times columnist David Brooks, no raging liberal, writes that “we can have a culture war in this country, or a war on poverty, but we can’t have both.” (Democrat and Chronicle, May 29, 2005)

What does this have to do with More Light Sunday, a day for Presbyterian congregations who have declared themselves to be More Light – a kind of official protest against Presbyterian policy and an affirmation toward welcome and inclusion? I am not fully sure what it means.

And yet issues of human sexuality, not so much ordination – though that spills over – but the manner in which we think about gay and lesbian people and their relationships, and how their relationships are affirmed, or not, seems as contested as ever in the red state-blue state world in which we live. It was certainly a wedge issue in the last presidential election, and that “wedge” dynamic is strongly at play in the Presbyterian world. Exit polling last November asked questions about moral values, the suggestion presumably that the only appropriate moral position was not to be affirming and inclusive, but to be restrictive and exclusive, even to the point of legislation. Civil rights, unions, marriage – all were deemed to be threatening to our cultural and moral fabric.

And yet here we are on More Light Sunday, a congregation that took a stand on a church matter some 17 or 18 years ago, a moral, ethical, theological stand, about who may serve in leadership roles in the church. We have been living out the trajectories of that stance ever since.

Those trajectories include a public witness, working for legal equality. Working against homophobia. Working toward justice on many levels.

In the church, it has meant working to change our teaching and practice on human sexuality and ordination. Groups like Shower of Stoles, That All May Freely Serve, the Covenant Network of Presbyterians, on whose board of directors I am grateful to sit, and more specifically today, More Light Presbyterians, continue to work for change, locally and nationally.

Progress has been slow, of the two steps forward, three steps back variety. But the witness has been persistent and hopeful, and we here at Third Church seek to serve as an oasis of sorts.

And as important as our ordination policy is, the issue, which is not really an issue but a concern and journey about real-life people whom we know and love, goes deeper than that. It is about what we believe to be the hospitality of Jesus. It is more than inclusion and more than fairness, though it is all of that. It is a fundamental gospel conviction – about who Jesus Christ is and who Jesus Christ calls the church to be.

I’ve always thought the term, “more light,” to be unfortunate in some ways. One, it is difficult to pronounce and understand. “More Light?” Or that it suggests we have more light than those who would disagree with us. That is not what “more light” means. We may have more light on this issue, but if we do, we should hold that humbly. I am reminded every day that there are people who hold a more “conservative” position on this issue. Some do adamantly, and would insist me to be dreadfully wrong on all this. But some do reluctantly, and are open to change, or at least to the conversation.

In 1620, Reformed minister John Robinson preached a sermon that suggested that God had “ yet more light” to bring to our understanding of things, and that our human tendency is to limit the spirit of God in changing hearts and minds. We could use a little openness right about now, could we not? A little more light, on so many things?

For a party to be a good one, we are counseled not to talk about religion or sex or politics. And yet here we are, talking about all of them, and insisting that not only do religion and politics mix, but that they are the precise arena where God’s spirit is at work.

Presbyterian scholar Jack Rogers has reminded us that we do change our minds on these things, in the church and in the culture. At one point the church used its best theological resources to justify the practice of slavery. At another point our theology perpetuated the subordination of women. Today, this very day, we celebrate the 75th anniversary of the first women being ordained as an elder in the Presbyterian Church.

I am deeply grateful for the women in this congregation who serve with such distinction, who have been given such deep and obvious gifts. Next year we will celebrate the 50th anniversary of the ordination of women to Presbyterian ministry. Did you know that the overture, the proposed legislation, originated from this congregation, written by Lilian Alexander? That won’t be the last time you hear that, by the way, and we are in the early stages of planning a recognition event here at Third Church where it all began.

So we have changed our minds on race, on gender, on other things like Sabbath observance and divorce. And now this.

Not because I believe so much in the political process, or even in the actions of the councils of the church, but because I believe in the Holy Spirit, Susan B. Anthony’s insight on another matter is close at hand. “Failure is impossible.” I think we live with an inevitability of the church changing its mind, and an inevitability of the culture changing its mind. The work will be difficult and the movement will be slow. But there are glimmers of hope, and we cling to them, even as we seek the light that God has to bring to us, to all of us, and the church we love so dearly.

“Sing to God a new song,” the psalmist writes in Psalm 33. And so we shall seek to do. “Because God’s work is done in faithfulness and God loves righteousness and justice.” And then this, which may appertain to the moment in which we find ourselves. “The Lord brings the counsel of the nations to nothing…[but] the counsel of the Lord stands forever.”

And because we believe in the counsel of the Holy Spirit, I would invite all those who are able to stand, as we affirm what we believe using a portion of the Presbyterian Brief Statement of Faith. Let us say together… “In a broken and fearful world, the Spirit gives us courage to pray without ceasing, to witness to all peoples to Christ as Lord and Savior, to unmask idolatries in church and culture, to hear the voices of peoples long silenced, and to work with others for justice, freedom and peace.” Amen.