Sermon preached by Rev. Mary Katherine Morn, 24 Oct 2004
In my extensive research for this sermon I have uncovered what must be the central issue for us to consider this year as we go to the voting booth. Of course there are many complex issues in this race. Subtleties of difference that make me wonder if there really is a choice in this election year. But in one careful analysis by a respected commentator, I discovered the crux of the question for this year’s election—whatever race we might be thinking about.
It’s a question no one has had the courage to ask the candidates. “Why did the chicken cross the road?”
Here are the experts’ carefully considered projections of what the various parties would have answered, had anyone asked them this critical question.
The Republicans’ answer was obvious. “We don’t believe we need to get the chickens across the road. We support giving the chickens the right to buy the road. And if they can’t get across the road, it’s not our problem.” The Democrats, in an effort to position themselves as the “chicken’s candidates” would surely answer: “We fight for the chickens. Some of our best friends are chickens. We will tax you to build crosswalks for the chickens.”
There are other positions to consider, of course. Ralph Nader actually did answer the question in an interview in Iowa. Chickens are misled into believing there is a road by the evil tire makers. Chickens aren't ignorant, but our society pays tire makers to create the need for these roads and then lures chickens into believing there is an advantage to crossing them.
Analysts agree that the Religious Right will be making a statement soon, as others begin to weigh in on this topic. Sources indicate they will use this opportunity to comment again on threats from the secular left. Can't you people see the plain truth in front of your face? The chicken was going to the "other side." That's what "they" call it--the "other side." Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay.
I realize I’ve left out the Libertarian candidate—sorry about that. Haven’t heard anything about it. I guess that means they believe it’s the chicken’s business and not ours, or the government’s.
I hope I haven’t offended anyone. I must tell you that yesterday at the board retreat there was a general consensus about “letting our hair down” a little more often. I can’t resist an invitation like that one. Especially with a topic as serious as this one.
And to tell you the truth, I’ve been thinking a lot about the possibility that I would offend you this week. I heard even before I arrived to be your Interim Minister that Universalist National Memorial Church doesn’t “do politics.” I’m still not sure exactly what that means. I believe it is very important for us to bring our faith to the political arena. And I believe that this sanctuary is an ideal place to explore the religious issues that might affect our civic/political involvement. For a person of faith, I might even say, there is no better place.
Of course this does not mean that I believe this is a place for “politicking.” It’s the worst possible place for that. Yet I know that sometimes it happens. Four years ago a member of the congregation I was serving at the time drove his pick-up truck to church and parked it in our front drive way, right beside the church sign. It was a little beat up, but that was not the problem. He had an enormous sign in the back of his truck announcing his support for one of the presidential candidates.
David Burton sent me an article from Friday’s Washington Times which examined the various ways clergy in this area are approaching the election in their congregations. The first quote is from a colleague of mine. He is quoted as saying “It seems to me, as I look around at churches in general, that just as you have red and blue states, you have red and blue churches.” I don’t know in what context he said this. While I would say there is truth in his response—I don’t think this is good news. I understand that people gravitate, on Sunday mornings, to people who are a lot like themselves. However, I hope our congregations are places of dialogue and respect, where people with different political and religious perspectives can worship together and even talk politics together. That is why I became a Unitarian Universalist. Because I believe that is possible.
Earlier this fall in an article in the Washington Post a clergy person from another denomination said “I hope I’ve prayed and preached the Gospel well enough so that the congregation comes to the same conclusion [I have about a political race].” He added, “But people have to make their own decisions.” Liberal or Conservative, what do you think? That was a liberal minister.
That’s a long way of telling you what I am not doing this morning. I do not hope that my words on Sunday morning lead you to the same conclusions I have made about how to live my faith or how to vote my faith. I really don’t. I hope my candidate wins. In another part of my life I am working for that end. Here I have another end in mind. That is that we will engage together bravely on issues affecting our common life. That we will be inspired by our faith to participate in political dialogue that is civil and productive. And of course that we will be inspired to exercise our privilege to vote.
When I asked Richard Hurst about using the Micah passage this morning, he passed on the greater context to me. I wonder if Micah offended anyone. He said:
Listen, you heads of Jacob and rulers of the house of Israel! Should you not know justice?—you who hate the good and love the evil, who tear the skin off my people, and the flesh off their bones; who eat the flesh of my people, (it goes on in this vividly violent vein for several lines, but you get the idea).
Hear this, you rulers of the house of Jacob and chiefs of the house of Israel, who abhor justice and pervert all equity, who build Zion with blood and Jerusalem with wrong! Its rulers give judgment for a bribe, its priests teach for a price, its prophets give oracles for money; yet they lean upon the Lord and say, “Surely the Lord is with us!” No harm shall come upon us. Therefore because of you Zion shall be ploughed as a field; Jerusalem shall become a heap of ruins, and the mountain of the house a wooded height.
Ah to be a prophet. A prophet of course is called upon to forever stand apart from the people.
What I found most interesting when I read this passage was the timely admonition against arrogance. Our political leaders follow a long line of rulers and chiefs who also claimed that God was on their side. This is nothing new. First Micah describes the role of personal gain in a ruler’s judgment, a priest’s teaching, and even a prophet’s oracles. His words are harsh—it might be easy to take them to be describing only our enemies. But alas, Micah is speaking to all of us. The temptation to profit from our power is tremendous. And how often we defend ourselves by claiming God’s favor. Or if we don’t quite use that language—we find a more subtle variation of the same claim. We see it every day in the rhetoric of this campaign. On every side.
I’m not sure whether to feel utterly discouraged or reassured by Micah’s reminder that this behavior is not new. Who, today, can call our political leaders to account for their arrogance? How can we demand a political system that heeds the admonition that “all who exalt themselves will be humbled”?
I don’t think this is the right approach. I rarely believe that pointing fingers and placing blame on others gets us where we need to go. Micah addressed his speech to those with power. So he called them rulers and chiefs. We live in a very different time. Of course there are rulers and chiefs. And there are still vulnerable people with little power to speak of. But most of us have power the people in Micah’s days couldn’t have dreamed of. (Most of us have power by virtue of our wealth.) All of us, though, have power that comes by virtue of our democratic system. So we can’t wiggle out of the accountability Micah calls for and point our fingers at the politicians alone. Sure, that would certainly be easier. Today, though, we have to recognize that we are among those who are accountable.
There is one thing that’s worse, I believe, than a politician who claims God is on his side. It is a minister or a rabbi or an Imam who claims that God is on her side. Or even, dare I say it, a person of faith who makes such a claim. We are the ones who should know better. But so often we don’t. Even when it is not just profit we seek, even when righteousness guides us, we are sometimes drawn into this trap of claiming that God stands on our side. Our national identity is mired with this kind of arrogance. There’s a usually comic manifestation of this arrogance in the realm of sports. (When I was in Texas I learned that there was a hole in the top of the Cowboy’s football stadium so that God could watch his team.”) We can perhaps shrug this off as all in good fun, but it’s less than comic when religious conservatives and religious liberals alike justify themselves (ourselves) in this manner.
There is another kind of arrogance that is sometimes displayed by religious liberals. It’s true that we are a little less likely than the religious conservatives to make bold claims about God speaking to us directly or about strict interpretation of scripture to justify one position. However, this does lead to our own brand of arrogance. Forrest Church, from All Souls Unitarian Universalist Church in New York City, calls this sin: sophisticated resignation.
How well he puts that. In its extreme it represents a creeping relativism. At the least it is a cynical approach to life. It is tempting, too, because there is great relief in unburdening ourselves of any accountability. If we can convince ourselves that it doesn’t matter anyway—then we are innocent of responsibility. Surely all of us have at least played with sophisticated resignation.
I believe that sophisticated resignation, or more simply, cynicism, is the opposite of faith. We must ask, again and again, what is it that God requires of us. What will our answer be to the gifts of our lives?
At this time of year there are many dangers. Maybe that is what some of you meant when you told me UNMC doesn’t “do politics.” Maybe you were acknowledging the pitfall of co-opting God onto our “side.” Or slipping into a theological sophistication that justifies cynicism. If so, I couldn’t agree more.
There is a middle way, though. Micah is brilliant in his articulation of it. Here is what God requires. That we do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God. I hear in his words a call to bravely, yet humbly, take a stand.
We might use Davies’ description of the faith within democracy to judge our efforts. Remember, he said:
There is a faith within democracy drawn from the best of all religions. It is a faith in the victory of truth in free and open encounters, and of unity over exclusiveness, and love over fear. Whatever may separate us in conviction, ritual, or devotion, let this unite us. Without it we are lost—and so is the hope of this world.
He was careful to say that the victory of truth comes in free and open encounters. And he boldly claims that within the faith of democracy is the triumph of love over fear and unity over exclusiveness.
This week, I pray that each of us will find the time to engage enthusiastically and faithfully in our democracy. As a matter of religious principle. And after the election, I pray that each of us will recall the strength of our democratic system. When it is working well it leads to free and open encounters that manifest love and unity. May we exercise our power to this end. Amen.
Posted by Sue Mosher at October 25, 2004 10:23 PM