A few people have noticed that I have not been blogging in a few weeks. My silence on the blog has been a result of trying to navigate a space that I have never quite found myself in before. I feel like I have been in a bit of a free fall, yet I think now I have landed somewhere — and so its seems right to share with you some of the contours of that free fall, and where I have ended up. This will take some time, so bear with me!
I realize that people have a variety of views on what I am about to say, and I also know that amongst my clergy colleagues, my particular journey may be strange, because they have approached this whole issue in a different way from the beginning. But, my journey has been my journey: we each walk the spiritual path in our own ways, and for those of us who are spiritual leaders, we each live that out uniquely, trying to be as faithful as we can to the way in which the call of the Sacred makes itself heard in our lives.
Politically, I have always been a liberal person. While the community in which I grew up could not be called liberal then or now, my early political views were influenced by the liberalism of my parents, and I have never departed from that. In my view, government’s primary role is to make sure that people have what they need, and that every opportunity to make a life worth living is made available to all. I believe in what has been called the American Dream, in the sense that I have always believed that this country wants to be a place where anyone and everyone is welcomed and given a fair chance to become what they want to become. It is a dream which has never been fully realized, but also one which we, as a people, have not been willing to give up. Our efforts to move more and more toward this dream have been heroic, painful, costly, incomplete, and imperfect, as any effort to move forward as a human community must be. The history of this struggle has given us a unique place in the world.
Religiously, my journey has been toward a more and more progressive view of theology. I grew up in a religiously progressive household, which certainly laid the ground work for my spirituality. For me, there has never been an “if” or a “maybe” connected to the existence of God. I entered a particularly deep period in my spiritual journey when I found my way to The Episcopal Church, and was able to fuse the religious perspective of my childhood with the deep sacramental tradition of Christianity. That ultimately led me to the priesthood, and to the privileges and responsibilities of spiritual leadership of various Episcopal communities. My spiritual journey has led me to an ever deeper conviction that at the heart of Christianity, and, indeed, all the great religious traditions of the world, is the call of God to an ever-expanding inclusiveness that rejoices in difference and distinction rather than recoiling from it. With respect to Christianity, I have come to believe that the kingdom of God is a condition of human existence in which no one is excluded, no one is scapegoated. It is a condition that requires us to be transformed into ever more compassionate, ever less selfish forms of living and patterns of relationship. The journey toward God is one of greater and greater opening of the self to others and the Other — a journey that is sometimes painful and demanding.
Throughout my ministry, I have sought to keep my political self and my priestly self separate from each other. It has long been clear to me that there must be a connection between one’s spiritual journey and one’s political journey, if there is to be any integrity to either. If I am honest with myself, I realize that my political and religious identities are constantly informing each other. Yet, I have always been keenly aware that the communities I have served have held a broad spectrum of political views. The truth is, they have also contained a broad spectrum of religious views! It has always seemed to me that if I were to ally myself too publicly with one particular political perspective, I would create an obstacle between myself and those parishioners who saw things differently. And so I made as much of a wall as I could between my political and my religious identities.
Over the past few years, I have felt like I was moving ever closer to the edge of a cliff, as both the political and religious worlds have shifted. Over the course of my ministry to date, the Christian world has seen the rise of a kind of conservative, evangelical Christianity which, in almost every way, has stolen my religion from me. What I mean by that is that the public image of what Christianity is has been taken over by the religious right, who have increasingly been given the power to define what Christianity is and what it means. That takeover has been so through and so complete that larger and larger numbers of people have no idea that there are forms of Christianity that do not at all resemble what the conservative branches of the Christian tradition are. And the result has been that Christianity is seen more and more as rigid, judgmental, uncaring, and much worse. Indeed, this has tended to be the case with religion generally, as the voices of more conservative parts of the religious traditions have gained the upper hand. What has happened to Islam is a perfect example. I have felt it was more and more important to affirm a different kind of Christianity, and I am certainly far from the only one attempting to do that.
Our political and social world has also been changing. There was a time when many Americans believed that we had dealt with the problems of racism, sexism, and homophobia, and moved to a more enlightened place. The victims of racism, sexism, and homophobia would have told us differently, of course, but we often weren’t listening. But over the past decade, that illusion was completely shattered, as more and more people came to believe it was okay to speak out against women and minorities in the most horrible ways, and as various organs of the media sought to present such points of view as legitimate options in a civil society. During this same period, America has become more and more divided, so that we are barely able to govern ourselves effectively. And we have seen these divisions mirrored all over the world, as nationalist movements have gained strength in Britain and other parts of Europe, pushed in part by an ever-growing refugee crisis which has led to a rising fear of “otherness”.
As I said, I have had the sense that all of this has been pushing me ever closer to the edge of some kind of cliff — and the election of Donald Trump pushed me over that cliff, and initiated the free fall which I mentioned a few paragraphs ago. That free fall has left me somewhat bewildered as to how I am to be a priest in a time like this, and has made the separation of my political and priestly selves harder and harder to maintain. And yet, despite the fact that I live and work in a notoriously liberal part of the country, I continue to serve a community of diverse points of view. It has left me wondering what I am called to do. And has led to this period of blogful silence.
But I think I have landed in a place of greater clarity. It began when, out of the blue, someone in my community (my town, not my church) called and asked me if I would be part of a Vigil for Kindness, to be held at a local park. It was an invitation to which I felt a strong inner obligation to say Yes, but it goes very much against my personality. I don’t think I would call this Vigil — which we have held twice – protest, so much as a witnessing to our better nature as human beings and as Americans. But, it certainly has the feel of a protest — and is the first time I ever participated in such a thing. It has constituted a huge stepping out of my comfort zone, and has felt internally very risky. It is as close, I think, as I have ever come to allowing my political and priestly selves to interact with each other in a public way.
Participating in those vigils — and the witnessing of millions of protestors a couple of weeks ago across the country — has given me, however, a deeper understanding of what I, as priest and citizen, believe I am called to in this moment.
For me, it has become clear that the intersection between faith and action lies in realizing when the “powers and principalities of this world” are moving away from the values of the Gospel, as I have come to understand them. And, as The Episcopal Church has largely come to understand them. That vision of the kingdom of God as a condition of existence where all are welcomed and valued, and the call of God to become every more open to the Other and to others, have to be accompanied by certain moral commitments. When those of us who understand our faith in this way see that we are moving away from that vision rather than toward it, then we must speak and act on behalf of those values. That speaking must, at times, be directed toward politicians, but for me, it is never fundamentally about those politicians on a personal level. Rather, it is about the choices they make in utilizing the authority entrusted to them.
This is not about imposing our religious commitments on others. Rather, it is about acting in a way that preserves the integrity of those commitments by recognizing how they impel us to act in the larger culture of which we are a part. And it is also not about maligning particular politicians or other people. Our politics in this era has become far too personal, and the line between disagreeing with how someone is seeking to use his or her authority and attacking someone personally needs to be preserved. Personal attack is not the way of Jesus, either. The way of Jesus calls upon those of us who are his followers to enact the vision of God’s kingdom as fully as possible — meaning that we find a way to advocate for the values of that kingdom without attacking someone personally. It seems to me we should bear witness to a different way of having public conversations.
So I find myself landing in a place of advocacy that I have never been in before. It is not an advocacy based on who is in office or who has power, but an advocacy which, in the political sphere, is based on whether we seem to be moving toward or away from God’s dream for humanity, as I have come to understand it. In the religious sphere, it is an advocacy for a way of being faithful that also moves toward that vision of the kingdom of God, and that also witnesses to the existence of Christians and other people of faith whose spirituality and way of holding their faith differs markedly from what has come to be the public image of religious people, thanks to the rise of conservative Christianity and radical Islam, as well as other forms of fundamentalism that distort and deform humanity’s great religious traditions.
For some of you, it may seem like I am arriving a bit late to the party, and rather than this seeming like some sort of epiphany, it might seem more like a “well, duh….” But for me, it has been something of an unexpected but necessary journey. Now that I have landed in this place, it marks the beginning of a new journey of how to live into this with faithfulness and integrity.
And perhaps I am not alone — perhaps I am among many people who are waking up in a new landscape that calls for some new way of engagement.