When Christianity spread into the Roman Empire it got absorbed into the culture of patriarchy, nationalism and, eventually, capitalism. The faith was morphed from a message of liberation for all the wretched of the earth into a self-righteous cudgel for the rich and powerful. As you may know by now, the Roman emperor Constantine forced Christian bishops to come up with creedal statements that had little or nothing to do with the original teachings of Jesus. For many, the Christian religion was reduced to supernatural claims, cultic moralism and shameless toadying to the hierarchy of the day. For many, Christianity was reframed from a religion of empathic servanthood to one of judgmental sectarian control. The new imperial Christians were superstitious and ignorant about this world, but felt they were experts on the world to come. The new imperial Christians weren’t so good at loving their non-Christian neighbors, but felt they were good neighbors to their new and improved Jesus who now preferred working through the rich and powerful, and was no longer concerned with the poor and outcast. I believe there is confusion in calling the Christianity of Constantine and that of Jesus by the same name. I’m not saying we should argue about who gets the label, but it is important for somebody to say if some Christians want to force their dogma into the public square, that is the Christianity of Constantine not Jesus! Somebody needs to say, If there is a mass shooting and some Christians are more concerned about protecting their guns than the children, that is the Christianity of Constantine not Jesus! Somebody needs to say if some Christians are more concerned about the the success of the American economy than the plight of the working poor, that is the Christianity of Constantine not Jesus! And, finally, somebody needs to say, if the cross is a symbol of Christian superiority instead of a call to suffer on behalf of the oppressed of every nation, that is the Christianity of Constantine not Jesus!
I’ve always had a bad attitude when it comes to clergy garb. In seminary, I used to collect the pictures of clergy in pontifical poses because I thought they were so funny. I loved how Monty Python satirized clergy dressed like roosters trying to act humble. I was once doing a service with a conservative pastor who was hectoring me to wear a robe, but I was refusing to wear one until my LGBTQ colleagues could be ordained. The clergyman blurted out, “I wear the robe because this isn’t about me.” “Yeah,” I thought, “nothing helps you blend into a group of ordinary folk like 15th century garb.” So, when I was preparing to be arrested at a protest a few years back, my friend, the Reverend Babs Miller came to the office with a black clergy shirt and collar. My memory is a bit vague, but it seems to me she said, “You need to wear this.” My first thought was, “hell, no!” but I thankfully I did not say that out loud. My fear was that people would see the collar and think I was claiming special status in a sect that excluded many people who would be at the event. But I knew Babs had worn that shirt as a hospice chaplain. She wore it as a witness to dying people that they were loved even if they had been rejected by their churches and families. I knew Rev. Babs had also worn that shirt when she “came out” on the floor of Presbytery and called for justice for LGBTQ people within the church. Babs said, “This shirt and collar is a reminder of the message that are all loved. The press is going to take pictures and you need to communicate the message visually.” I wasn’t convinced but I showed up to get arrested wearing Bab’s black shirt and clergy collar. Perhaps knowing the garb had belonged to a lesbian minister helped me feel the subversive nature that symbols can have when taken from the powerful and given on behalf of those the church itself will sometimes betray. Bab’s words reminded me a bit of Johnny Cash’s song “Man in Black:” ” I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down, livin’ in the hopeless, hungry side of town, I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime, but is there because he’s a victim of the times.” When the arrest finally happened, it all felt a bit surreal. The arresting officer had me kneel. We were inside the building and could not see the press, but could hear the furious flashing of unseen cameras sounded like thunder. That picture of me kneeling in clergy garb showed up in newspapers all over the world. The picture of a minister getting arrested in that collar seemed to communicate that the crisis at the border had greater spiritual implications. Even when I was interviewed on Tucker Carlson, I could tell he was thrown off by the collar. God knows what he would have done if he realized it really belonged to a lesbian clergy. Babs had been right. Wearing her magic lesbian clergy collar had served as a reminder of the voices that really needed to be heard. The collar could serve as placeholder for the child drinking leaded water in Flint Michigan drowning in the fetid swamp of under regulated capitalism. The collar could serve as a placeholder for battered spouses told by the church to submit to their abusers. The collar could serve as a placeholder for the forgotten souls who rot in America’s vast prison industry. On this day I clearly felt myself to be a mere placeholder for mistreated undocumented immigrants whose righteous cries for justice were not being heard. After the arrest, Babs gave me her magic clergy collar. I still hate religious garb pretty passionately, but I wear the collar when someone’s humanity is on the line. To me, the collar serves as a reminder of every single person the church has excluded and whose humanity this nation has betrayed. The collar serves as one denomination’s reminder of that higher love to which we are all called- that love which is bigger than any of us, yet includes us all. (Story first posted March 2024, Picture credit to Austin American Statesman.)
If Christian Fundamentalists were right about his teachings, Jesus would have been the worst teacher of all time. If the Christian creeds are the summation of everything Jesus wanted people to believe then why didn’t he just teach the creeds instead of telling stories and giving the Sermon on the Mount? If the point of Christianity is to close our minds in orthodoxy, why did Jesus take his pupils out by the seaside and ask them to think for themselves about the birds and flowers? If Christianity is just about having the right answers, why did Jesus teach in questions and parables? If the atonement formulas are accurate recipes for salvation, then why when Jesus was asked about salvation by the rich young ruler did he just tell a parable about compassion? (The Good Samaritan) If obedience to religious rules is how Jesus wanted us to behave, why did he model breaking religious rules to to feed the hungry? Why did he say the essence of the law can be fulfilled by loving? If mindless moralism was the point of his teaching, why did Jesus call himself the friend of sinners? If the point of Christian ethics is obedience, did Jesus say his teachings would set us free? If perpetual dependence upon him was what Jesus intended; why, when he finished teaching tell his followers, “Now I no longer call you my students, I call you my friends?” And, if in order to be saved one has to become Christian, why did the disciple Jesus loved teach “whoever has love has God?” Again, if Christian Fundamentalists were right about his teachings, Jesus would have been the worst teacher of all time.
My procedure (heart catheter) went well yesterday. The doctor was concerned that my cough would make me a bleeding risk, but we came through all clear. It may be a month or so away but I’m all clear for heart surgery which makes me very happy. I’m so grateful to Rep. James Talarico for bringing our Easter sermon tomorrow. There isn’t anyone I would trust more to bring a message of hope in these strange times. I am also grateful to Andi Corona for preparing the video shown here. She took it from an earlier sermon. This will have to be my two minute Easter sermon this year. The hummingbird has always been a symbol of the hope that cannot be forced but only invited into our lives. You may not have just had a heart procedure, but you have your own version of life’s challenges. Whether you will be celebrating Easter, Passover, the Vernal Equinox or any other ritual of renewal this season, I hope this is a time of renewed hope for you. https://www.facebook.com/share/1X7Ykihou1/
I don’t expect to be posting tomorrow. If I can control my cough I will finally have the procedure to find out how much damage my heart has experienced. Hopefully we will get a schedule for when my heart surgery will be. This whole situation reminds me of a Buddhist story that I believe applies to us all. About 500 years before Jesus, a prince named Siddhartha was born in India. Most people know him now as the Buddha. The young prince was born into unimaginable wealth and power. Siddhartha’s father wanted to protect him from the harsh realities of life, so the young prince was surrounded by every comfort and luxury imaginable. He was also protected from any glimpse of the uglier side of life. As Siddhartha neared his thirtieth birthday, he began to grow restless. The young prince resolved to leave his palace to see the outside world. On his field trip he ran across four splices of life that have since been called “the four heavenly messengers.” The first “heavenly messenger” was a wrinkled old man bent over from age. Siddhartha realized that he, too, would get old. He realized his youthful body was temporary and so was not truly who he was. The second “heavenly messenger” was a man who was sick and covered in sores. Siddhartha’s father had not permitted sick people into the palace. Realizing that sickness could and would eventually happen to him, and to everyone else, filled Siddhartha’s heart with compassion. The third “heavenly messenger” was a funeral possession. Siddhartha saw a corpse being cremated and realized that he, too, was also was going to die. He realized the foolishness of clutching onto life and fearing that which is inevitable for us all. Siddhartha deeply realized that life is change. The final “heavenly messenger” was a humble priest with only a simple robe and a bowl for food. The monk had few possessions but was radiant with joy. Siddhartha was moved to renounce his old life with all of its wealth and comfort. Instead of clutching onto his life, he decided to give himself away as a gift of compassion to every other being. Like you, I will spend tomorrow with the four “heavenly messengers.” They will be reminding us both that we do not belong to ourselves. Life is change, but this is not a cause for fear or sadness. In fact, our sense of a separate self sadly observing our plight from the shoreline is an illusion. In fact, we are life itself manifested as ephemeral but invaluable gifts to each other. Impermanence need not be a cause for fear or sadness for any of us. We are not the isolated observers sadly and fearfully standing on the banks of the river watching. No matter what happens to any of us individually, deep within, we are the river of life gurgling peacefully and joyfully to and from our common source.
For me, religion has never really been about belief. To me, arguments for the existence of God are philosophically unconvincing at best. At worst, they seem metaphysically desperate. I can see a power and intelligence working in the universe that strikes me with awe but my mental images of that mysterious something are thumbnail sketches for my feelings of awe, not pretensions that I can define the infinite; which, by the way, is a contradiction in terms. Nor has religious art ever seemed more than a meagre pantomime of a depth and breadth beyond my widest imaginings. I have never seen a stained glassed window that rivaled a sunrise, nor a hymn that measured up to the sound of the stingiest waterfall or the smallest bird. So what does it mean to call something “sacred?” Immanuel Kant spoke about a sense of reverence he called “the sublime.” The sublime is when something like a beach or a starry night strikes us with a sense of the infinite. If I am understanding him, Kant understood the sublime as when something like a lightening storm triggers within us a sense of that transcendent power bringing us into being. For me, the sacred is not when we put a value on something beautiful, it is when we recognize anything at all as an expression of value itself. The sacred is when something inspires us with a sense belonging that almost feels like the arms of a parent. The sacred is when we almost feel ourselves addressed by the intelligence manifested in the periodic chart, or hear the music of the whole universe in the song of a cricket.
It seems to me when the church linked heaven with a reward and hell with a punishment it set itself up to be filled with hypocrites. After all, who would not at least PRETEND to love goodness if that were the ticket to an eternal reward? And, who would not at least PRETEND to abhor evil if doing so prevented eternal torture? A religion based on being saved from hell can’t help but be animated by fear. Such religion is less likely to lead to a life of compassion and much more likely to lead to a calculating selfishness. Those who truly love would pay any cost for it. True lovers are those who would be willing to go even to hell if they knew that’s where love would be. I don’t actually believe in hell, but, if there were such a place, I would be obligated to try to rescue the members of my human family being tortured there. I do not pretend to know about the afterlife, but in THIS life, serving evil is much more likely to result a golden mansion and serving the exploited and oppressed is much more likely to put us through hell. The true friends of humanity choose the punishments for loving over the rewards for cruelty and exploitation. In a sense, love calls us to be one trick ponies. If someone loves us, we love them back. If someone hates us, we love them back. Thus and only thus is the world filled with love.
I stopped by the church yesterday after a month of being sidelined by health issues. It was strange to see the Easter decorations and realize I would miss Easter for the first time since entering the ministry. The good news is that James Talarico will be preaching our Easter sermon. Rep. James Talarico has been a member our church since his childhood. We are very proud of his courage and integrity. He is also a seminary student. His sermons have gone viral on CNN and other news sites. The last time Rep. Talarico preached for us we got a snarky complaint that we should give equal time to his Republican opponent. I informed the complainant that James didn’t have an opponent. I also informed him that the fairness doctrine had been destroyed during the Reagan years so it was disingenuous to demand that of others. I also told the man that James Talarico is a student at Austin Presbyterian seminary and a member of our church. I informed him that anyone who preaches at our church needs to preach what Jesus taught- sharing the world, turning the other cheek, loving our enemies, caring for immigrants, and not judging others. I’m so relieved that our pulpit will be reserved for messages of the love and of justice in my absence. People need hope in this time of cruelty. They need to hear messages of honesty in this time of propaganda. People need to hear messages of universal love in this time of national selfishness. And, after all, scripture didn’t give Herod equal time.
Only those who live in solidarity with the poor can experience the profound state of love Jesus called “heaven.” Only those who can feel grief for the affliction of others will ever experience true healing themselves. Only the humble can truly experience nature. The arrogant are imprisoned in their utility. Only those who hunger and thirst for justice in our world will feel the satisfaction of life lived for one’s highest value. Only those who show mercy to others are capable of fully receiving it themselves. Only those who do not pretend to be more than human can experience the sacred in the ordinary. Only those who renounce systems of domination can become expressions of life itself. Only those willing to be persecuted for justice will enjoy a nobleness of heart oppressors will never know.
One of my very favorite Texas lawmakers is the honorable Senfronia Thompson of district 141 in Houston. I learned so much from Rep. Thompson about privilege. It was she who taught me: “When you talk about race, white people think you are talking about People of Color. When you talk about gender, men think you are talking about women. And when you talk about sexual orientation straight people think you’re talking about the LGBTQ community.” In other words, people of privilege see themselves as the norm and so they can think that equal rights for people who differ from them as special rights. Rep. Thompson has spent her adult life advocating for the Texans some would leave behind. She has been a lighthouse for human rights and is one of the great uncelebrated champions of Texas history. She explains her tireless activism in one sentence: “When the arc bends toward justice, we have to bend it, it doesn’t bend itself.”
