A Light Bearing Faith -- 2nd Sermon on the Sermon on the Mount

Matthew 5:13-20

Last Sunday we began a journey through the Sermon on the Mount by looking at Jesus’ words of blessing on the kinds of people whose lives define God’s realm. Blessed are the poor, the grieving, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and those who experience persecution. To them belongs God’s realm both in heaven and on earth. Now, as we continue this journey, we hear Jesus say to us: “You are the salt of the earth” and “you are the light of the world.” That is, you are signs of God’s reign in this world, which God loves deeply.

In these two phrases, Jesus answers two of the most important questions that we can ask of ourselves: Who am I? And what am I to do? Because Jesus addresses these words to the community and not just to individuals, the questions become – Who are we? And What are we to do?

These questions have emerged with even more urgency since this congregation made the commitment to become a missional church. And I need to add that you made this commitment even before I was interviewed for this position three years ago this month. In making this commitment the congregation decided to uncover the light of God’s Spirit that is present in this congregation so that it might shine forth into the world. This is what it means to be salt and light, and to experience the unconventional righteousness of God’s realm.

1. Our Reality

Jesus calls us to be salt and light, but this calling doesn’t happen in a vacuum. As I thought about what it means to be salt and light my thoughts went to a conversation that recently took place in our library. A young community organizer with whom I’ve been having conversations gathered together a group of mostly suburban pastors to discuss the needs and the difficulties that are facing the suburbs, and to see if we can work together to address some of these needs, even as we seek to partner with urban churches to resolve issues that affect the entire region. In other words, even though our organizer didn’t use Jesus’ words, he was asking us to consider how our faith communities could become salt and light in communities that are struggling with unemployment, foreclosures, declining population, and diminished hopes and dreams.

These issues hit home even here in Troy, which as I was told three years ago, is an affluent, diverse, and forward-looking community. The information that was shared with me noted that Troy has been ranked among the nation’s safest and most livable cities, but since our arrival here, I’ve discovered that things have changed considerably in a rather short period of time. Home values have gone down, office space lies vacant, and the city is planning to close the library and it may even sell the city hall. Now, some of these problems are self-inflicted by voter decisions, but I sense that what is true of Troy is probably also true elsewhere in Metro-Detroit. So, how can we be salt and light to communities that are struggling to sustain themselves for the future? In trying to answer this question, we need to understand something about salt and about light, and then we can start thinking about Jesus’ call to experience an unconventional righteousness.

2. The Salt

Salt has many uses. Not only does it enhance the flavor of my food, but it’s also useful for melting ice and snow! When Jesus calls us to be the “salt of the earth,” I think he had the former in mind, not the latter. When Jesus calls on us to be salt, what he means is that just as salt enhances the flavor of our food, we are called by God to enhance or add value to God’s creation. But, remember, if salt loses its flavor it’s rather useless, and so you might as well throw it on the ground and trample under your feet. (Of course if there’s ice on the ground you might find a secondary use for the flavorless salt, but again, I don’t think Jesus had this use in mind!)

When Jesus calls us the salt of the earth, he was probably thinking in terms of the way salt acts as a conserving agent. Ron Allen and Clark Williamson write that this means that we’re to “act in the world in ways that will keep it wholesome, that will prevent it from going to rack and ruin.” Therefore, we are being called by God to help preserve the well-being or common good of our communities (Preaching the Gospels without Blaming the Jews, WJK, 2004, p. 18). This is a task that fits quite well with our Disciple mission statement, which calls on us to be a “movement of wholeness in a fragmented world.” To say that we’re a movement of wholeness doesn’t mean that we should expect everyone to experience complete wholeness in body and spirit, but it does mean that we can participate with God in creating an environment where our neighbors can experience compassion, healing, peace, mercy, and hope. Therefore, how we live together as God’s people is a sign of our saltiness.

3. The Light

Not only are you “salt of the earth,” you are “the light of the world.” You are, Jesus says, like a city that is set on a hill and can’t be hidden. To get a sense of what it means to be such a city of light that can’t be hidden, think about Las Vegas. If you’ve ever been to Vegas you know that unless the electricity goes out you simply can’t hide the city. Vegas shines forth with such intensity that you can even see it clearly from space. So, if you’re the light of the world don’t hide your light under a bushel basket, but instead, let it be seen so that the world can give glory to God.

Now, it’s important that we understand that the light that shines into the world doesn’t come directly from us. Instead, like a mirror, we reflect God’s light out into the world. Or, like the moon reflects the light of the sun back into the darkness of night, our lives, what we do and how we act, shows forth God’s presence in the world, bringing glory and honor to God.

And we do this in so many different ways. For instance, we’re light in the world when we advocate for the rights of others and stand up with those who are voiceless. To give you an example, let me point to an Iraqi Christian named Moses. You may have seen him, because he comes by quite regularly to speak to me about the needs of the Iraqi Christians who are suffering tremendous persecution. He is being light by letting us know that his people are hurting and that they need our help.

We are called to be lights, but this light is most effective when it is joined together. If Jesus were speaking to us today, in our context, he might use an LED flashlight as an example. Now a flashlight with one LED bulb doesn’t do a lot of good, but if you put a bunch of LED bulb’s together the aggregate creates a lot of light. The church is like a LED flashlight, and the more bulbs you have, the better the light! So, let us pull the cover off our lamps and place them on their proper stand so that the world might see this light through the good works of the community, so that God might receive glory.

4. Experiencing Unconventional Righteousness

We are salt and light, and we have been called to experience an “unconventional righteousness.” In the closing verses of this morning’s text Jesus builds a bridge between this call to be salt and light and the call to live out the Law of God, with a focus on murder, adultery, divorce, and the taking oaths. I bet you can’t wait for that discussion!

Jesus says to us – I’ve not come to do away with the Law. Instead, I’ve come to fulfill it and not one jot or tittle will pass away from God’s law. Now, you may have heard that Paul said that we are free from the Law. So, how do we build a bridge between Jesus and Paul? Although theologians have often tried to reconcile Jesus and Paul by distinguishing between moral and ceremonial Law, Jesus doesn’t make the distinction. In fact, as we move forward through Jesus’ sermon, we discover that he expands its meaning.

And if you think that Jesus gives us a get out of jail free card because he died on a cross, according to Matthew, Jesus says that our righteousness should exceed that of the scribes and the Pharisees. As we hear this word, we should probably remember, as Ron Allen reminds us, Matthew offers us a caricature of the Pharisees. The real Pharisees, like the real Puritans, were a lot more complex than the stereotypes would suggest, but, if we can leave aside our stereotypes for a moment, perhaps we can hear in this word a call to move beyond traditionalism so we can understand what it means to be a child of God. As Walter Brueggemann points out in a reflection on Isaiah 58, too often worship becomes self-indulgent, which he says “is a violation of neighborliness.” The worship, which God desires from us, lifts up and constructs the common good. It looks “advantage and disadvantage square in the face, and urges gestures that bind haves and have-nots together.” He goes on to say that “knowledge of God is acknowledgment of neighbor.” (Brueggemann, Journey to the Common Good, WJK, 2010, pp. 110-111).

Jesus, like the prophets before him, reminds us that we can’t separate out love of God from love of neighbor. As the prophet points out, our fasting does us no good, if we oppress our workers or quarrel with each other. I realize that this is a difficult word to live out, but this is the pathway that Jesus has set before us, so that we might be salt and light in the world. Therefore, when we share bread with the hungry, house the homeless, and clothe the naked, the “light shall break forth like the dawn and . . . healing shall spring up quickly”; so that even as our vindicator goes before you the “glory of the Lord shall be your rearguard.” Yes, when you cry out to God, God answers “here I am.” (Is. 58:8-9a). In this is the power to be salt and light, so that we might experience an unconventional righteousness.

 

 

Preached by:

Dr. Robert D. Cornwall

Pastor, Central Woodward Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)

Troy, Michigan

5th Sunday after Pentecost

February 6, 2011

Ask Not What Your Country Can Do for You . . .

This past week we remembered the 50th anniversary of John F. Kennedy's Inaugural Address.  It was a very different time.  It saw the passing of the torch from one generation to the next, from the generation that came of age in World War I to the that which emerged into public life through the Second World War.  It was a time of great anxiety due to perceived threats from an advancing communism, but it was also a period of growing affluence.  Religion was still "in," and there was a sense that Americans were in this together.  Of course, there were important issues that were getting papered over -- like those that would be identified with the emerging civil rights movement.  We were not yet at war in Southeast Asia, and we were ready to compete with the Soviets in the space race.

On that day in January of 1961, the new President, the youngest ever elected at the time, took the world stage and offered a call to America, a call to join together in a common cause.  The sentence that has come down through time still rings loudly, and yet it would appear that as a nation we are less inclined to heed its call.

On that day President Kennedy issued these words:

"Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country."  

In our day, it seems that we are asking a very different question -- "What have you done for me lately?"  We went to war in Afghanistan and then in Iraq, but instead of calling for national sacrifice through increased taxes to pay for this war, we cut taxes, and passed on the debt to a later generation.  That decision is coming back to haunt us.  Even as talk of cutting the deficit is being heard in the Halls of Congress, the buck is being passed on to the States and then to local governments.  While Congress can enable the nation to print money, states, counties, and municipalities must try to balance budgets -- and they must do this without raising taxes, since there is no interest in paying more to keep existing services.  Now, what is interesting is that most Americans want to keep the status quo in terms of services, they just don't want to pay for it.

And when one state, such as Illinois, tries to raise taxes in order to balance its budget, other states seek to capitalize on this fact by trying to woo companies to move elsewhere.  In other words, competition among states is leading to cannibalization of the nation.

So, I come back to the point made fifty years ago -- What Can I do for my country?  And I ask this question from the perspective that my own ultimate allegiance is due not to the nation but to God.   

What is Love?

I love a whole lot of things -- my wife, my son, my mother, the Giants and the Ducks.  I love pizza and burritos.  You can see where I'm going with this.  The reality is that too often we speak of love without defining it. 

For Christians, one way of defining love has been to appeal to the word agape, which is supposedly the distinctive form of Christian love.  This love is sacrificial and unconditional, and according to Anders Nygren, it is a love that comes only from God, without any human interaction (why else would it be unconditional)?  Nygren didn't believe that any other form of love, especially eros, was appropriate for Christians.  Unfortunately, this definition is very passive.  We don't enter into the equation at all?  Well, if love is to be central to our theology, we're going to have to do a better job of defining the word.

I'm reading Tom Oord's excellent book, The Nature of Love:  A Theology, (Chalice, 2010), and Oord gives a definition of love that is quite helpful.  He defines love this way:

To love is to act intentionally, in sympathetic/empathetic response to God and others, to promote overall well being. (p. 17).

Oord goes on to provide other nuances and expansions, but this is the basic definition.  It is upon this basic definition that he builds his definition of agape. 

Agape is "acting intentionally, in response to God and others, to promote overall well-being in response to that which produces ill-being."  (p. 56). 

He goes on to write that the easiest way to define agape is to call it "in spite of Love." 

Agape is the form of love promoting overall well-being in spite of the negativity the lover faces.  Agape does good in spite of evil previously inflicted.  Just as God loves us in spite of our rebellion, complacency, and sin, so we ought to love others and ourselves in spite of the pain, suffering, and destruction others and we have done. (p. 56).

What is love?  It has many meanings and nuances, but ultimately it is a commitment to pursuing the well-being of the other (and of ourselves).  Can we commit ourselves to this calling?  Can we put this at the center of our theology? 

Good Neighborliness: Religiosity and Generosity

As I mosey my way back and forth through American Grace, my book of the year, I want to go back to an important chapter entitled "Religion and Good Neighborliness."  In this chapter the authors, using data from several sources, demonstrates that in terms of volunteering time and giving of money, religious people stand far above seculars in their generosity.  Now, you might say, well, they do give to their churches, but that's not all.  A majority of regular church goers also make up the bulk of volunteers at schools and service organizations, and more.  Consider this:

Of all people who volunteered for a religious group, 91 percent also volunteered for at least one secular group, whereas of those who did not volunteer for a religious group, 69 percent did not volunteer for any secular group either.  Those of us who volunteer for religious groups are two or three times as likely to volunteer for secular groups as well, compared to those of us who don't volunteer for religious groups.  Americans, it seems, mostly choose between volunteering and not volunteering, not between religious and secular volunteering.  (American Grace, p. 445).

And the same goes for giving of money -- if you give to religious groups you're more likely to give to "secular" ones as well. 

The authors note that in essence "religious Americans are more civically active."  They're more likely to join community organizations, engage in community problem solving, participate in civic and political life, and press for social and political reform.

Oh, and if you think that it's just the Religious Right that's active in the public arena, the surveys say quite the opposite.  The authors write:

Indeed, for many measures of civic engagement, such as club membership, organizational leadership, and (as we have seen) local reform activity, religiosity matters more for the self-described liberals than for self-described conservatives.  That is, the difference in activism between a religious liberal and a secular liberal is even greater than the comparable difference between a religious conservative and a secular conservative." (American Grace, pp. 456-457). 

In this regard, the authors are able to put to rest the claim that conservative Americans are more generous than liberals (Arthur Brooks).  While it is true that religious folks tend to be more generous and conservatives are more religious than liberals, the key is not conservatism but religiosity.  That is, its the faith and not the politics/economic theory that leads to generosity.  Again, just to be clear on this, the authors write that with all things being kept constant (size/numbers, etc), "liberals are never less generous than conservatives, and are, by some measures, better neighbors than conservatives" (p. 458).  Yes, read closely:

Liberals, for example, work more often on community projects, cooperate more to solve community problems, and volunteer more often to help the sick, the needy, and neighborhood and civic groups, whereas on none of our measures of generosity and civic engagement are conservatives more active.  Holding religiosity constant, ideology has little significant effect on total giving or total volunteering, nor on any of the fifteen good deeds discussed earlier, but liberals assuredly give and volunteer more for nonreligious causes than conservatives do.  According to the best available evidence, the "civic good guys" are more often religious liberals, not religious conservatives. (American Grace, p. 458).

 So, who do you want for a neighbor? 

 

Don't Be Spooked: Stewardship Isn't That Scary

2 Corinthians 9:5-15

Considering that today is Halloween, and because the sermon title has a Halloween flavor, I suggested to Pat that the choir might want to sing “The Monster Mash” as an anthem. And in keeping with the spirit of the day and the sermon’s emphasis, I even thought about dressing up as a “TV evangelist.” After all, what’s more spooky than a TV Evangelist with that slicked back hair and smiling face asking everyone in TV land to fork over the big bucks so that God might bless the giver, while TV Evangelist adds another luxury car to an already crowded garage.

Alas, Pat didn’t think this anthem choice was a great idea, so he sent me an email suggesting that we might want to reconsider the idea, since he still needs employment. And so, as you heard, the choir sang something other than “The Monster Mash!” And without the Halloween anthem, there didn’t seem to be any reason to dress up in a costume.

But, in all seriousness, perhaps it’s fitting that we’re launching our month-long stewardship emphasis on Halloween. After all, stewardship can seem like a rather spooky topic, especially during these difficult financial times. Despite our uneasiness with talking about this topic, stewardship is an important spiritual practice. How we view our money has spiritual implications, as is seen in this week’s lectionary text from the Gospel of Luke. Luke tells the story of Jesus’ encounter with Zacchaeus the Tax Collector. That encounter proved to be life-changing. On that day Zacchaeus essentially gave up everything he owned and either gave it to the poor or paid it back in restitution, and Jesus said of Zacchaeus: Today salvation has come to his house (Luke 19:1-10).

Our reading from 2 Corinthians 9 has a different emphasis, but it also speaks of giving from the heart. In this case, Paul gives the Corinthian church direction, so that they can take up an offering to provide relief to the believers in Judea. He couches this call to give in spiritual terms, terms that remain helpful to this very day. The message is simple. The act of setting aside a portion of our income to give to the church is an act of spiritual discipline and an act of thanksgiving. It may seem like a spooky topic but really it’s not!

1. A God of Abundant Blessings

Every stewardship emphasis seems to have a theme, and this year’s theme isn’t Halloween-related. Instead, the theme is “More Than Enough,” which responds to the question: “How much is enough?” Our culture suggests that whatever we have now, is not enough. In fact, because we have a consumer-based economy, our income depends on people not being satisfied with what they already have. Now, I’ll admit that even though I’m a pretty frugal person, I can’t say that I’m completely satisfied with what I have. If nothing else, my book list continues to grow, and I really want Santa to bring me a Kindle for Christmas. Maybe that’s why we fall victim to what Walter Brueggemann calls the “narrative of scarcity. He writes in his book Journey to the Common Good:

The narrative of scarcity leads us to conclude that if you have something, then it must have come to you at my expense. And if I have something, then I’m going to protect it at all costs. This attitude makes it difficult for us to commit ourselves to the common good, since we’ve been led to believe that there’s never enough to go around. Therefore, since I have mine, I have no interest in helping you get yours.

It is our propensity, in society and church, to trust the narrative of scarcity. That is what makes us greedy, and exclusive, and selfish, and coercive. Even the Eucharist can be made into an occasion of scarcity, as though there were not enough for all. Such scarcity leads to exclusion at the table, even as scarcity leads to exclusion from economic life (Walter Brueggemann, Journey to the Common Good, WJK, 2010, p. 34).

There is, however, another narrative – the narrative of abundance. This narrative is deeply embedded in Scripture, including this passage from Paul’s letter to the Corinthian church. As I suggested earlier, Paul is heading toward Judea, but has planned to stop in Corinth, because he would like the Corinthians to make an offering to the believers in Judea. In part this gift will provide relief to people in need, but it will also cement a relationship between two very different congregations.

To get an idea of what Paul is up to, think in terms of getting a letter from Amy Gopp, which informs us that she’ll be in the neighborhood in the next week or so and that she’s taking up a collection for the people of Indonesia, who’ve suffered again from the combined effects of an earthquake and a tsunami. Her word of advice is that she’d really like it if we would have the offering ready when she arrived so that she doesn’t have to cajole us into giving. She wouldn’t want to turn to extortion to get some money out of us.

One of the key points in this passage is Paul’s appeal to the abundant blessings that God has poured out on this church. It’s not that this was a wealthy congregation, but he writes to remind them that “God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance” (v. 8) This statement is echoed in Ephesians 1, where the author of that letter says that the “God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” . . . “has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places” (Eph. 1:3) In fact, we’ve not only been blessed with God’s abundance, but we are heirs of God in Christ (Eph. 1:11). Yes, our God is a God of abundance and not scarcity, and we are the inheritors of that abundance.

2. Therefore: Share the Abundance and Be Enriched

So, what should be done? It’s telling that Paul doesn’t say anything about how much the Corinthians should give. There are no formulas here, just words of encouragement that they should “give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” What you decide to give is between you and God, but it’s important to God that this gift is an expression of our love for God and God’s people. Although he doesn’t give a formula, he does suggest that if we sow sparingly, we’ll reap sparingly, but if we sow bountifully, then we’ll reap bountifully.

What does this mean for us? I think it’s an invitation to move from the narrative of scarcity to the narrative of abundance. It’s a reminder that there really is “more than enough” if God is involved with our lives. Therefore, if we’re willing to let go of the abundance that God has entrusted to our care, our lives will change for the better. For instance, we’ll probably become more aware of others around us. We’ll begin to see ourselves as part of a community and not as isolated individuals. When that happens, we’ll begin to let go of our fears and begin to live lives of faith and trust. Giving to the ministries of the church won’t make you rich financially, no matter what the TV evangelists tell you. But your lives will be enriched because you’ll begin to make connections with others and experience the blessings of working toward the common good. Yes, God has given us the seed and the bread to share, so that we might be a blessing, and as a result, as Paul makes very clear, we’ll be enriched by our generosity. As I said, it might not be financial riches that come our way, but we will be enriched.

3. Thanks Be to God!

Our text this morning ends with the words: “Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!” This sentence serves as a reminder that whatever we give, whether in terms of time, talent, or finances, when done cheerfully, and not reluctantly or under compulsion, it is an act of thanksgiving. Therefore, it’s appropriate that when we end this Stewardship season a month from now, it will be on Thanksgiving Sunday. At that time, we’ll bring into the storehouse the commitments that we’ve made. Hopefully these commitments will be made in the context of prayer. Now, between this Sunday and Thanksgiving Sunday you’ll hear testimonies from members of the church about what stewardship means to them. You’ll receive a letter with an estimate of giving card from the Stewardship Ministry Group. You’ll likely read some articles about stewardship in the newsletter. And then, at the appropriate time we will bless these signs of our commitment to the common good with prayers and songs of Thanksgiving.

Stewardship is a spiritual discipline, but it is also a practical one. When we give of our finances to the church, we expect that these offerings of thanksgiving will be used wisely. These gifts may come out of God’s abundance, but that doesn’t mean the church should be wasteful. That’s why we have a budgeting process, and we have church leaders who are entrusted with keeping watch over their part of the budget. Let us then, commit ourselves to prayerfully considering the manner in which God is calling us to give to the ministry of the church. You may want to use as a goal the principle of the tithe. A tithe is traditionally understood to be the first 10% of one’s income. In ancient Israel, this tithe was brought to the Temple as an offering of thanksgiving. This is a good goal to pursue, but whatever you decide to give, remember that ours is a God of great abundance, and that we have been blessed with every spiritual blessing in the heavens (Eph. 1:3ff). Therefore, whatever we give comes out of God’s largesse.

So, is that spooky or what?

 

Preached by:

Dr. Robert D. Cornwall

Pastor, Central Woodward (Christian Church)

Troy, Michigan

23rd Sunday after Pentecost

October 31, 2010

Customer Service Government?

The GOP candidate for governor of Michigan, Rick Snyder,who has no government experience, but comes to the campaign from the corporate sector, speaks of ""customer service government."  He is one of several candidates that have no government experience, but suggest that their business acumen is key to success.  I really don't want to debate that issue, though I have my doubts that one can move from the business world into government all that easily. 

But, what is interesting to me is the concept of voter/citizen as customer.  In these campaigns, Snyder's included, the citizen is addressed as a customer, but what does that mean?  If Snyder means that things like transparency and efficiency and even good service should be part of the governmental ethos, well I would agree.  But, if citizens are customers, or at least considered customers, does that not feed the consumerist mentality that makes governance almost impossible.  Government is put in the position of pleasing individual customers, which means it may not do what is right, but what is expedient.  I think we're already there, but this only makes it more apparent.  

But are citizens really customers?  Are we not the government?  And as government should we not be concerned about the common good as well as the individual good.  As an American, I have only one government.  It's not like I can choose between Coke or Pepsi -- you know decide which one tastes better and choose it.  It's not even like choosing between banks, deciding which bank offers me the best customer service.   So, what does "customer service government" really look like?

And since this is a faith-based blog, let me push the question into the church.  Since the church has become increasingly tied to consumerist ideology, is the church member a customer?  After all, when we look for a new church, we call this "church shopping."  And we decide not on doctrinal bases, but on the basis of the children's program, youth program, the preacher, the music.  Again, where in this does the question of the common good emerge?

There was a video going around a while ago comparing the church to Starbucks -- suggesting that the church might look to Starbucks for guidance in "customer service."  Well, is that truly the way we ought to look at either church or government?  Doesn't "customer" orientation take away the idea of responsibility to church and community?  Are we not part of the "body politic," even as Christians are part of the "body of Christ"?

Divine Power -- Unilateral or Relational? (Bruce Epperly)

Bruce Epperly follows up on his discussion of the Resurrection with a discussion of divine power.  Is it unilateral (direct and irresistible) or relational (engaged but resistable)?  Bruce prefers a relational understanding of power, one that fits with his progressive theology.  I invite you to read and respond.

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Divine Power – Unilateral or Relational?

Bruce Epperly

Over thirty years ago, my graduate school theology professor Bernard Loomer asserted that there were two primary kinds of power – unilateral power and relational power. Unilateral power is by nature coercive. It gives, but does not receive; acts but does not listen; demands but does not compromise. It sees the other in terms of its wishes, rather than the other’s deepest desires. Creativity and freedom are frowned upon, if not outright abolished. Anything that deviates from the ruler’s edit is, by definition, wrong and subject to severe punishment. In business or parenting, unilateral power proclaims, “my way or the highway” as it paternalistically seeks to act “for our own good.”

In contrast, relational power takes into consideration the value and perspective of others. It gives, but also receives; acts but also responds; has a vision but is open to change and transformation. Relational power is at the heart of good parenting as well as democratic decision-making. Relational power encourages freedom, creativity, and coloring outside the lines, within the context of overall environmental safety and order. Relational power recognizes that well-being in personal and institutional life is best achieved by welcoming diverse perspectives and balancing order and novelty for the common good.

Christian theology has struggled with these two approaches to power in its understanding of the relationship of God and the world. While Jesus is proclaimed as the primary revelation of the divine nature, Christian theologians have often, in the words of the philosopher Whitehead, preferred Caesar to Christ in their understanding of divine power. Sovereignty, defined as unilateral and all-determining (omnipotent) power, has been judged superior to love in describing God’s character and relationship to creation. Defined in terms of unilateral power, God can do whatever God wants – destroy cities, send plagues, kill innocent people, pulverize the planet –simply because God wills to. There is no court of appeal, because unilateral power is supreme and unquestioned regardless of its cost to creation. The elect can feel comfortable knowing that God will protect them while unilaterally condemning the unfaithful, or persons who ask questions or have different perspectives, to an eternity of suffering.

As I noted, Christianity has struggled with the nature of divine power even though Jesus’ embodiment of power was far different from that of Caesar. Borg, Crossan, and Wright have correctly noted that the gospels proclaim an alternative social order and an alternative understanding of the divine to that of unilateral, power-oriented, and domineering rulers and gods. Jesus’ ministry, described in the gospels and in Paul’s Christological hymn, from Philippians 2:1-11, was defined by relationship, empowerment, acceptance, mutuality, and love. If Jesus is the window into God’s nature, then divine power, while variable in expression and intensity, is, by definition, loving and relational.

Divine relational power – and remember, Jesus opened the door to seeing God in relational terms by calling God “abba” (or father) - shapes the world though loving and respectful relationship. On the one hand, this means that God has a vision, appropriate to each moment of experience and, in the broadest sense, for the vast expanses of planetary and cosmic history. God presents the world with possibilities and the energy to achieve them. God does coerce the world but inspires the world with dreams, visions, and possibilities. On the other hand, this means that God really experiences our lives. God touches us with vision and beauty, but we also touch God by our dreams and actions. The “One to whom all hearts are open and all desires known” truly experiences our joy and suffering, and allows these experiences to shape God’s response to the world. The world lives by the dynamic divine-creaturely “call and response” in which God presents visions and the world responds, thus enabling present new visions appropriate to our personal or global situation.

As in the case of all healthy and dialogical relationships, God “listens” often before God “speaks.” God seeks what is best for the real world and not some ideal person or universe. In some ways, this could be said to place limits on God, that is, God works within the world as it is, presenting possibilities that enable us to move forward. We can refuse these possibilities and often do; but our refusals cannot defeat God, who responds with new possibilities in light of what we’ve just chosen. For example, in a violent situation, God cannot personally restrain the threatening fist; but, God can move within the perpetrator, opening him or her to new possibilities, which at that moment might be restraining the fist, while still boiling with rage.

Many persons affirm the theological necessity of divine unilateral power. After all, such power insures God’s victory and asserts that God can always get what God wants. While I concede this point, I believe divine unilateral power raises some serious theological issues. First, it makes God equally responsible for salvation and damnation, cancer and recovery, catastrophe and escape, and evil and good. Second, the image of divine unilateral power goes against the dialogical vision of the Hebraic scriptures in which God often has to adjust God’s vision and action in relationship to the behavior of God’s people. Third, Jesus’ healing miracles, while revealing extraordinary manifestations of divine power, reflect the interplay of personal faith and divine action, or divine call and human response. Forth, divine unilateral power makes God beyond good and evil, thus, exalting amoral power over love as essential to God’s character.

A relational God, in contrast, seeks abundant life for all things, but must work through the freedom and creativity of the world, slowly, patiently, and constantly luring the world toward greater and greater love and beauty. A relational God is not without power, but it is the power of love and relatedness, not coercion or violence. It is the power of shared vision rather than unilateral demand.

God’s power is present shaping each moment of experience, and some moments reflect God’s power in unique and transformative ways. God’s vision, like our own, can be embodied in more vital, lively, and transformative ways, as a result of the divine decision to be more present in some places than others and in some persons rather than others and in the corresponding creaturely or community response to God’s initiative and vision. Such revelatory moments truly embody the divine aim toward beauty and wholeness, whether in a Celtic “thin place,” a liturgical healing service, a Damascus road experience, or in the radical openness of Mary and the moment by moment transparency and revelation of Jesus of Nazareth, whom we call the Christ.

The power of love, divine power incarnate, trusts us enough to inspire and encourage our own use of power and creativity. In inviting to “greater things” (John 14:12), God expands God’s own creativity and power in the dynamic, transformative, and evolving divine call and human response. Like a good parent, God says “surprise me,” to creation, knowing that in the dance of call and response God has the visionary resources to respond creatively and lovingly to every creaturely act.

Bruce Epperly is a seminary professor and administrator at Lancaster Theological Seminary; pastor at Disciples United Community Church, Lancaster, PA; theologian and spiritual companion. He is the author of seventeen books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living, a response to Rick Warren’s Purpose Driven Life. His Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry, written with Katherine Gould Epperly, was selected Book of the Year by the Academy of Parish Clergy. (http://www.bruceepperly.com/)

Peace of Mind and the Common Good

What is the highest good?  Is it my own personal peace of mind?  And is it the responsibility and purpose of the community of faith to aid me in experiencing this peace of mind?  And if so, what does that say about the relationship of the faith community to the broader society?

Reading in Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove's The Wisdom of Stability (Paraclete, 2010), I came across this paragraph that I'd like to share, and invite your response:

If personal peace of mind is the highest good we can imagine, life with other people becomes difficult, especially when we are divided by cultures, values, education, or class.  This is I suspect, why the church continues to be the most segregated institution in American society, even as schools, workplaces, and even families become racially integrated.  A spirituality that seeks peace of mind leads almost inevitably to consumer religion that sells an experience on Sunday morning (or Saturday evening, if you prefer) to individuals who have little sense of community because they are rarely together in one place at the same time.  (p. 69).

What is the nature of our spirituality?  Where is it leading?  Does it lead us to embrace the common good or the individual good as preeminent?   And does the answer have something to do with a sense of rootedness?