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Person 1: "The bishop went too far. Why did she have to bring politics into a prayer service? Who does she think she is lecturing the president? Did you hear her tone through the sermon? It sounded like she was at a funeral. I bet her tone (and content) would've been very different if Kamala had been in the front row...Here is a perfect example of why liberal mainline churches are dying. Stick to the Bible lady, and remember who won!"
Person 2: "The bishop was brave for what she did. She was prophetic by speaking truth to power. She didn't shy away from the tough words that needed to be said. Mainline churches are dying because so few leaders will speak the truth. They are too scared of being canceled. Trump stokes division and her sermon was about unity and mercy. Good for her!"
The old saying goes, if there are ten rabbis in a room and you ask them for an interpretation of one verse of the Torah, you'll get eleven different opinions. The same seems true about Bishop Mariann Budde's sermon this past week at the National Cathedral.
Her sermon--but mostly the last two minutes--has created a firestorm of reactions that have only proven the chasm that separates American Christianity. There are major theological and ideological differences within the Church, and Trump embodies much of the admiration or angst of the people in our pews. Did God protect him on that fateful day when a bullet grazed his ear? Is he just using his evangelical base for political gain? The answers to these questions are as emotionally charged as the reactions to the bishop's sermon.
It's nearly impossible for American Christians not to filter a theological message through a political lens. The vocabulary of the right or left has so influenced our conscience that we are unable to put together a cohesive theological thought without leaning on political rhetoric.
In this past week, I have heard vastly different reactions from people even within the Episcopal Church to Bishop Budde's sermon. But in those comments, there isn't much nuance or unique theological ideas. Many comments are regurgitations of what folks have heard the political pundits say. Just the mention of LGBTQ+ was enough to get many fired up.
No doubt the bishop's tone was reflective rather than jubilant, and her theme of unity was based on the deep divisions she sees in the country due to Trump, but it is interesting to me that a plea for mercy for those on the fringes got her canceled by some Christians. She didn't ask for any policy changes--which would've crossed the line, nor did she berate the president. There was no namecalling, but awkwardly, everyone in the room knew she was talking to him. I guess the service was mostly for him and what he represents for our country, after all.
She asked for mercy and got the exact opposite. This is a bitter irony for someone like me who mourns the state of the Church, and how we continue to eat ourselves alive with scandals and division.
A plea for mercy was simply a reminder not to forget that every person is made in the image of God. We all need to be reminded of that. If the president wants to unify the country, then it's not a bad reminder that all of us are broken and yet all of us are endowed by our Creator with his image. That sacred image is stamped on all of us, no matter our country of origin.
I'm not a politician nor would I want to be. It is hard enough to be a Christian while being a priest (let that sink in for a moment). It's got to be even harder to be a politician who is a Christian. However, presidents have done it, no doubt imperfectly, but there's a good list of presidents who have taken the values they learned in the pews with them into the White House.
Was the plea for mercy political? Yes, since it was addressed to the President of the United States, but is mercy inherently political? I believe that it's not a right or left issue but a Christian value, even if we may disagree on important topics like immigration or LGBTQ+ rights. The point I want to make is that mercy for other people is not a bad thing to ask for from our leaders, let alone for all Christians.
Where do we get this? A rabbi once gave a sermon that has continued to befuddle even his most devout followers. On a rolling Galilean hill Jesus once said:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 5:3-10, NIV).
This was a hard saying for Jesus' original listeners, and honestly, it is hard for me to wrap my mind around it. But at it's heart, this sermon reminds me that the kingdom of God is ruled by humility--and shockingly--those who are raised up are usually the last I have in mind. Jesus was always associating himself with the outcast, the foreigner, or enemy. Tax collectors, prostitutes, and lepers were not the class of people that made you move up in society. Quite the opposite.
It is hard for Christians to not be pulled into the culture wars we are now facing. There are faithful Christians on both sides of the aisle, and yet, the language we use matter. We could say that for both President Trump and Bishop Budde--words matter--that's why people get up in arms on either side.
But we've muddled the messaging. As I've said earlier, Christians are parrotting what they hear from their prefered new agencies rather than having a distict voice in this conversation. A part of the problem is that we've infused the American Dream with the Gospel of Christ. Believe it or not, though the latter may have influenced the former, they do not go hand in hand.
The singer-songwriter Jon Guerra came out with a song not long ago reflecting on the Sermon on the Mount and the "American Gospel." It is a powerful song that forces Christians here in the States to reckon with our values.
It begins:
Blessed are the powerful
Blessed are the rich
Blessed are the merciless
And the hypocrites
They will inherit the empires passing
It's the American Gospel
But it ends:
Blessed are the powerless
Blessed are the poor
Blessed are the merciful
Blessed are the pure
For they will inherit the kingdom of Heaven
And that's the heart of the Gospel
There is a stark difference between our culture and what our faith teaches, and we must be on guard for the ways that our speech is influenced more by the culture than the radical message of the Gospel--which the world sees as utter nonsense. Eugene Peterson's translation of 1st Corinthians 1:18 gets to the heart of it:
"The Message that points to Christ on the Cross seems like sheer silliness to those hellbent on destruction, but for those on the way of salvation it makes perfect sense. This is the way God works, and most powerfully as it turns out. It’s written, I’ll turn conventional wisdom on its head, I’ll expose so-called experts as shams. So where can you find someone truly wise, truly educated, truly intelligent in this day and age? Hasn’t God exposed it all as pretentious nonsense? Since the world in all its fancy wisdom never had a clue when it came to knowing God, God in his wisdom took delight in using what the world considered stupid—preaching, of all things!—to bring those who trust him into the way of salvation" (The Message).
The Gospel of Christ crucified is simply unfathomable to people bent on squeezing God into a tidy box that we can control. People living cruciformed lives is pretty strange too. But turning the world's expectations upside down is right in line with God's nature.
Mary's Magnificat seems like a timely message.
"His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty" (Luke 1:50-53, NIV).
The iconagraher Kelly Latimore has done some provacative works that stir us to see Mary's words in our own context. Not only does he portray the Holy Family as refugees (which they were when they fled for their lives from Herod), but he also written some icons on modern-day figures. The past Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, gave Pope Francis one of Kelly's icons entitled, "La Sagrada Familia." Both leaders have talked about the world-wide immigration from the pulpit. Kelly's work has created a lot of interesting dialogue, including our conversations with him on The Wayside Podcast. He has reminded me of the image bearing nature of each person, and his work apparently conveyed something similar for the two men pictured below.
Christians should have enough grace to challenge one another in love. Canceling someone is what the world does, not what we do. Enough churches have split and enough families have stopped speaking to one another because of our tense political climate; it's time to start acting like Christians. First, with each other and then with those outside the Body of Christ. People are watching. My question is what are they learning from our behavior?
President Trump's response to the sermon was enlightening. When asked what he thought of the service, he quipped, "Did you find it exciting? Not too exciting, was it?" I'm not sure the service was meant to be exciting in the first place, but the outcome of the service is all in the eye of the beholder. Was he being lectured by a nagging bishop, or was the bishop pleading with the most powerful man in the world to not forget the people in the midst of a frenzy of policy-making?
A quote from N.T. Wright has been making its way around the internet this week. "By the end of the second century," Wright said, "Roman officials were not particularly aware of the nuances of Christian teaching, but they did know what the word 'bishop' meant—it meant someone who kept on agitating about the needs of the poor."
The Church needs to remind people of the poor and forgotten, no matter which party runs the White House. Episcopalians actually do it each time we gather for worship in our Prayers of the People. We specifically pray for the poor and needy, but we also pray for our bishops and the president. Oh the irony. Apparently, we all need prayer.
Canceling one another will not make our divisions go away, and it will only weaken the effectiveness of the Gospel if the messengers keep shooting at one another. May we be bold in listening to one another, work towards the common good, and may our lives be infused with the values Jesus taught us in Beatitudes.
And if all else fails, may the Lord have mercy.
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