Politics in the Pulpit
Service of Worship
Eastern Parkway United Methodist
Church
July 4, 2021
Rev. Natalie Bowerman, Pastor
Let us
pray:
Lord, make
me an instrument of Your peace;
Where there
is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there
is injury, pardon;
Where there
is doubt, faith;
Where there
is despair, hope;
Where there
is darkness, light;
And where
there is sadness, joy.
O Divine
Master,
Grant that I
may not so much seek
To be
consoled as to console;
To be
understood, as to understand;
To be loved,
as to love;
For it is in
giving that we receive,
It is in
pardoning that we are pardoned,
And it is in
dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.
Our Mother,
Father, Creator God, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come,
thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily
bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who have trespassed
against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is
the Kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.
John 19:
1-16
Jesus
Sentenced to Be Crucified
19 Then Pilate took Jesus and had him
flogged. 2 The soldiers twisted together a crown of
thorns and put it on his head. They clothed him in a purple robe 3 and
went up to him again and again, saying, “Hail, king of the Jews!” And they
slapped him in the face.
4 Once more Pilate came out and said to
the Jews gathered there, “Look, I am bringing him out to you to let you
know that I find no basis for a charge against him.” 5 When
Jesus came out wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe, Pilate
said to them, “Here is the man!”
6 As soon as the chief priests and
their officials saw him, they shouted, “Crucify! Crucify!”
But Pilate
answered, “You take him and crucify him. As for me, I find no basis for a
charge against him.”
7 The Jewish leaders insisted, “We have
a law, and according to that law he must die, because he claimed to be the
Son of God.”
8 When Pilate heard this, he was even
more afraid, 9 and he went back inside the
palace. “Where do you come from?” he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no
answer. 10 “Do you refuse to speak to me?” Pilate
said. “Don’t you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?”
11 Jesus answered, “You would have
no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one
who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.”
12 From then on, Pilate tried to set
Jesus free, but the Jewish leaders kept shouting, “If you let this man go, you
are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar.”
13 When Pilate heard this, he brought
Jesus out and sat down on the judge’s seat at a place known as the Stone
Pavement (which in Aramaic is Gabbatha). 14 It
was the day of Preparation of the Passover; it was about noon.
“Here is
your king,” Pilate said to the Jews.
15 But they shouted, “Take him away!
Take him away! Crucify him!”
“Shall I
crucify your king?” Pilate asked.
“We have no
king but Caesar,” the chief priests answered.
16 Finally Pilate handed him over to
them to be crucified.
A Message
“Politics
in the Pulpit”
We’re moving
on to another week of “Stump the Preacher”, sermons that you all requested and
then I put together. Our friend David requested this one, but I was hoping
someone would, for a few reasons. When I looked at the calendar and saw that
the 4th of July was going to be on a Sunday this year, I saw an
opportunity to talk about a cloud of feelings, reactions, preconceived ideas,
loyalties, and heritage that surrounds us every minute of every day, but that
the Church has struggled to appropriately address for as long as it has
existed. That cloud is made up of a mix of politics, patriotism, and
nationalism. What relationship does our Church have with that cloud, what
relationship should our Church have with that cloud, what relationship do we
have with all of that, what does our faith teach us about engaging with it, and
what should I say about any of it from the pulpit?
Many
contemporary Americans of Christian faith hold a pretty strong belief that
political views should stay out of this building at all costs. And we have some
solid reasons to support that. My husband will eagerly tell you before anyone
asks him that “politics” is a two-part word: “poly” meaning many, and “tics”,
meaning blood sucking insects. To the people who have no desire to see your
worship service infiltrated by many blood sucking insects, I agree, I don’t
want that either.
My own
personal opinions about this have changed drastically in the nine years that I’ve
been in the ministry. When I first started out I was a 26 year old city slicker
from a very progressive seminary serving 2 rather conservative country
churches, and in a situation like that maintaining harmony and unity is very
important. I learned a lot about the value of emphasizing what we agree on, and
that practice is very Wesleyan. John Wesley taught that Christian people
absolutely don’t have to agree on everything in order to follow Jesus together,
if that were true we surely would have been doomed from the start. Rather,
Wesley maintained that there was a “marrow of truth” that Christian people had
in common that ought to be central to everything we do.
Still,
despite my noblest intentions, that cloud of politics, nationalism, and
patriotism started to come in every time someone cracked a window. I truly
believed it was a sacred duty of mine to never let the pulpit become a
political place. But then Donald Trump ran for President. And then he won. Oh
boy, you just felt the mood in the room shift after I said that name, didn’t
you? It was a time when the people I served had stronger beliefs, stresses, and
fears than I had ever seen in anyone before. How could I possibly ignore that
from the pulpit, or from anywhere else in my ministry? It’s certainly my job to
maintain harmony and unity. But it’s also my job to look after you guys and
tend to your spirits. And people who I’d known to be cool, calm, and collected
before the election of 2016 were losing sleep every night, getting in public fist
fights, not talking to their closest friends, attending protests and
demonstrations, and generally feeling quite unwell in their souls. This room is
a “sanctuary”, and should be a safe space. That will always be true as long as
I have a say in the matter. But a safe space isn’t a steel vault where nothing
from the outside ever gets in. That’s unrealistic and harmful to you. The
outside world is going to get into this space in one way or another, and we
should welcome that. What value is the faith we build in this space if it can’t
help you with life?
We live in
such a deeply political world. And unless you live under a rock you see it everywhere,
and in everything. Especially in the heavy stuff. Every mass shooting—and there
have been many in my time serving in the ministry—opens up another public
debate about gun control. And then it goes deeper than that as those who would
terrorize us learn new and bigger ways to incite panic. When the Pulse
Nightclub shooting happened in the summer of 2016, the shooter was a Muslim man
who opened fire in a gay nightclub. 49 people were killed. Some ran their
tongues with Islamophobia. Some dug in their heels about the importance of gun
rights. And some conservative evangelical Christians publicly said that the
shooting might be a blessing in disguise for taking dozens of queer lives. You
might not know me well enough yet to recognize it, but this is my angry face. Over
the years I learned in tragedy that if I keep politics out of this space, I don’t
help. I help others hurt you more.
Holocaust
survivor and author Elie Wiesel echoed those sentiments when he wrote, “We must
take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence
encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. Sometimes we must interfere.”
And that brings us right to the mission of the Church, and our history as
United Methodists. We’re here to be, nurture, and send forth disciples of
Jesus. And disciples of Jesus care deeply about the world’s suffering. They are
the hands and feet of Christ, extending mercy to all in need of it. We can’t
stay politically neutral if we’re going to truly face the needs of the world,
as much as we may want to. As Methodists, historically we have fought against injustice
at every turn and never shied away for political controversy. When alcohol
abuse was tearing apart poor families in England, and the grain alcohol
industry was using up so many raw ingredients that a loaf of bread became
unaffordable, Wesley told his parishioners to stop drinking, and fight for
temperance and an overhaul of the gin industry. To this day, Methodists remain
wary of the harm of alcohol. We consume from an alcohol-free cup at communion
in solidarity with our friends whose lives have been harmed by substance abuse.
Fun fact: the Welch’s juice company invented unfermented grape juice for Methodists,
just so we would have something to drink during the Lord’s Supper.
Y’all, our
foremothers and forefathers weren’t shy people who stayed out of politics. They
jumped right in there. In the mid 19th Century when the debate about
slavery was about to take our country to war, Methodists fought for abolition.
We even schismed over it. The Methodist Episcopal Church South existed for a
whole century because when our churches in the South told us in the North that
they thought they could justify owning people we said “abolish slavery or show
yourselves out”. When people believed that women were too weak minded and
emotional to vote, Methodists fought for women’s suffrage. Methodists show up
after disasters. Methodists mass manufacture bed nets and deliver them to Sub-Saharan
countries afflicted by malaria. Methodists build hospitals and schools, love on
the people of God, preach on the street corner when the Church won’t have us,
and do not “stay out of it”.
However, all
of that said, there’s another angle to all of this, one of the angles that
makes people very appropriately anxious when politics starts to creep into our
faith talk. It’s the angle that’s highlighted in this morning’s scripture
reading, from Jesus’ passion and crucifixion. It’s the dark side of human
nature. The side that allows political interests and lust for power to warp our
hearts away from Christ. It’s a blood thirsty mob screaming to crucify Jesus
because they’re pro-Caesar to a fault. It’s any pastor anywhere who uses the
pulpit to tell you who you should vote for. I won’t lie, I have opinions, but using
my spiritual influence to take away your choice and conscience is a major
boundary violation. On the flip side, it’s politicians manipulating you and
your faith in order to get your vote, as was the case for 80% of white
evangelicals who supported President #45. And this isn’t about just him. Our politicians
have had a long history of manipulating Christians with talk of unborn children
and the sanctity of marriage and the family unit falling apart because of
feminists and what the public schools are teaching our kids and the
preservation of a moral way of life. This is the voice of the late Jerry
Falwell, a televangelist who urged his viewers not to let their kids watch the Teletubbies
because Tinky-Winky was going to turn us all gay. It’s him and fellow televangelist
Pat Robertson getting on TV and announcing that the September 11th
Terrorist Attacks happened because of feminists, lesbians, and the ACLU.
Now, I own,
my bias is showing. I’m much less likely to get offended by progressive pastors
speaking politically from their pulpits than I am by conservative pastors doing
the same. That’s a weak spot that’s true of me. But, the examples I just named
are about much more than conservative ideology. They’re about allowing the ugly
side of politics to pollute your faith to the point that Jesus is no longer at
the center. If we’re debating how much politics in your faith is too much, that’s
the line. The real question is, when do we cross it?
To an
extent, you need to gauge that for yourself. Where are your temptations, and
emotional weak spots? What sentiment, or cause, or issue is so potent to you
that you might start wandering from the teachings of Jesus because another
teacher over in the distance is singing a siren song? For most of us, it has to
do with fear. Fear is what makes us cross the line and give our faith in Jesus
away to our faith in Caesar. That’s what happened to the crowds upon Jesus’ passion
and crucifixion. Crucifixion was an act of terrorism; crucified bodies were put
on display right on the road as a warning of what would happen to you if you
disobeyed Rome. When the disciples had to either stand up for Jesus and die or
flee and live, they ran. When the crowds were facing a man with the power to
kill them all and had to pick a side, they chose Caesar. Fear is the tender
place where Christian nationalism starts to rear its head, with its tempting
whispers of “Put America first. Shun the refugee, cage the immigrant, bomb the
enemy. Jesus would want you to thrive and there isn’t enough for everyone.”
Fear teaches us to shut our lgbtqia friends out of the Church because of what
might change, fear tells us to police one another with harsh rules and
judgments. Fear comes charging at us when we might take a stand for racial
justice. Fear lies, and tells us that if Black Lives Matter people will forget about
your light-skinned struggles; fear tells us that supporting police officers who
have taken Black and Brown lives is safer than fighting for police reform; fear
teaches us to cling to our guns and close off our hearts. Fear is the enemy,
and Jesus’ perfect love casts out fear.
When we Christians
engage in political issues, we engage in the personal struggles of our
neighbor, and that’s exactly what Jesus would have us do. If you need to decide
where to draw the line, look at the teachings of Christ and let his heart guide
you. Jesus teaches us to build the Kingdom, a place where justice prevails. In
that place our beloveds are not disenfranchised of the rights we enjoy. In that
place the refugee is welcomed. In that place all families are protected and
respected. In that place war is absolutely minimal if ever necessary. In that
place all people have access to healthcare, housing, education, and employment.
In that place all people live free of violence, and the color of your skin
doesn’t change your quality of life. In that place your heritage, nationality,
and race are celebrated as beautiful. In that place we keep stretching the
table until everyone has a place to sit. When engaging with politics builds the
Kingdom of God, the politics absolutely belong in the pulpit, and our faith
belongs in the voting booths. It’s what makes us both responsible citizens and
devoted disciples of Jesus.
We risk that
we’ll disagree, sometimes very passionately. When we engage the political
sphere in Church we risk fighting in Church. As United Methodists we know all
too well by now what that looks like. If fear is what makes us cross the line,
if fear is what makes us surrender our faith to political power, then love is
what always brings us back. Acting in love will heal us every time. In the
words of Wesley, “Though we do not think alike, may we not love alike?” “Love
your neighbor” is our greatest political slogan, both in and out of this
building, and Jesus will guide us that way every time.
Thanks be to
God.
Amen.
Benediction
May the road
rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine
warm upon your face; the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet
again, may God hold you in the palm of the Divine hand.
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