Luke 17 and Matthew 6: Hoping for the Kingdom of God.
Rollins Chapel, 2/20/08
We suffer, in this country, at times
from what I think we would collectively agree,
is a bad political theology.
Marked by a strange election season,
in which one candidate ran Christmas-time political add
dealing with no issues whatsoever,
but simply reminded us that Christ is more important than politics.
Complete with a not-so-subtle cross in the background.
And it worked!
Marked by a Mormon candidate,
making a ‘JFK’ speech seemingly devoted in large part
to saying, “it’s okay that I’m Mormon,
because I’m still a conservative Christian,”
and thus deserving of your vote.
Marked by a climate which still suggests that calling a candidate a Muslim,
is an effective form of political critique.
A political theology which lumps all Christians together,
as conservative
and lumps all conservatives together as uncompassionate.
A political theology which is bent on surface images and religious stereotypes.
rather than deep, well-discussed ideals.
And, as we’ve explored this term,
this struggle for a political theology is not new,
but pervades our country’s history,
from the Pilgrims and Puritans to our founding documents,
back to the Roman empire,
and through the civil war.
A political theology which rests on the fundamental contradiction
that we remain a “God-fearing” nation,
built on a foundation of separation of Church and State.
But, the question of faith and politics,
remains relevant for today
in light of deep concerns about national security and environmental sustainability.
And especially in a milieu in which the primary political other,
is indeed a religious other.
Lumped strangely under the term, “Islamo-Fascists.”
Ours is a political theology which has developed collectively,
between opportunistic politicians,
sound-byte media sources,
and the apathetic masses.
A political theology that I think most of us here would agree,
is in need of serious reform.
And indeed, reform is beginning to take shape.
The solution to a bad political theology, clearly,
is to separate politics and theology.
Brought forth by those that want this “offensive” God language
removed from the public sphere and quartered off in religious circles and meetings.
And similar sentiments have even begun to come from some major Christian leaders,
like Jim Wallis,
who want us to appeal a moral, rather than religious center.
Who want a public faith, stripped of faith language.
where church is the place to come together to use God language,
which we then develop directly into a common, secular language,
open to those who care not for the divine,
or think differently of the divine.
And indeed, we theologically liberal Christians have been doing this for some time.
Aware that this God message,
this Christ message,
this faith message can be offensive,
we have sought a warm, socially active faith
that seeks a common center to which the whole world could ascribe.
But I don’t think this is a good thing.
Given a bad political theology,
I don’t think the best solution is no political theology,
but is rather a good political theology.
First I suggest, because we as a culture,
long for theological language.
And as we neglect to name common goods
as theological goods.
We leave this vacuum of God language.
that many are quite willing to fill with a violent or narrow vision of God.
Things like openness to all, the dignity of all humankind,
the persistent effort toward greater justice and inclusion
the fulfillment of spiritual needs (perhaps even regardless of tradition)
and even the separation of government and an established church,
These are theological Goods.
These are goods grounded in a vision of the loving creator
and a Jesus who preached and lived a love and justice so radical
that he died the death of a political traitor.
When we stop naming these as faith based goods.
They can easily be replaced...
by divinely-ordained militarism.
By forced conversion.
By a holy battle against an unholy religious other.
By a narrow and unconsidered faith,
in a shallow and exclusive God.
And if we do not intentionally ground our social actions and values
toward a common good,
toward the oppressed other,
toward love of all people (friend or enemy) and all of creation.
on God…
Then someone else will ground other goods on God.
And we will get squeezed out of the conversation.
As happens so often in our political and collective lives.
But perhaps more pertinent,
is the fact that our Christian faith
should be both public and offensive.
But we ought make it offensive for the right reasons.
Not because we have a narrow vision of the divine
of who’s included, and who’s going to hell.
or because we narrow-mindedly neglect to take seriously
the needs, wants and concerns of this world,
Because we look to a new Kingdom somewhere far off.
Or because we are mired in a narrow and limited notion of “The Bible”
But rather because we call ourselves followers of Jesus.
Who radically loved,
both his friends and his enemies.
Who rather than fighting,
died a horrible death.
Jesus who trusted in a God
who called him and calls us,
to a life of healing, preaching, and justice making.
And because we follow the example of Jesus, of Moses and Amos and Jeremiah,
who spoke truth to those in power.
Saying justice must flow down like waters,
or the back of your power will be broken.
This is our gospel of faith, love and justice.
of faith and citizenship.
And it is offensive.
But it is offensive because it forces us,
into a radical posture of openness to the needs and concerns of the world.
Be they war, or poverty, or the environment.
racism, sexism or homophobia.
A good political theology.
One grounded in justice,
grounded in concern for the least of these.
One that is offensive,
for the right reasons.
Grounded in hope.
Not naïve hope that God will make all bad things good,
but a hope that we can not only notice the bad things,
but do something about them,
in lived response to the Gospel message, the good news that God is with us.
A hope grounded in a divine Kingdom,
perhaps a divine politics,
that we pray to come each time we gather:
“thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven”
and a divine kingdom that is,
as Jesus says in Luke 17,
already among us.
A paradoxical vision of the things that are,
and the things that will be.
Feet on the ground,
head in the clouds.
A hope-full theology of possibility.
That allows us to read our political situation,
through the lens of our faith.
and say things like:
“God calls me to the life of faith
to work on behalf of those who are poor, underrepresented and oppressed”
which is not offensive because it invokes God.
But it is offensive to the oppressors.
And perhaps even the comfortable.
And that’s probably okay.
For it is this sense of call,
this sense of hope,
that allows us to move beyond an individual ethic of “do no harm”
into a communal ethic of responsibility for justice and peace.
This sense of call must be public.
It allows us to be good news to the world.
And indeed a billion followers of Christ though out the world,
ought to be good news,
to those suffering and to those who care.
And offensive news to those simply want to maintain the status quo.
For it is this sense of hope
that allowed abolitionists to invoke God’s name while fighting slavery.
is it this sense of faith
that allowed civil rights’ leaders to read the constitution through the lens of the bible.
To call, not for a common morality,
but a higher morality a higher vision of faith and hope and love and justice.
It is this sense of God
That allows us,
despite being awash in a world of sin,
to be confident in hope,
and public in our faith
that we are moving with and for God.
Confident, that there is more grace in God than sin in the world.
Confident that though the road may be long,
and we may grow tired,
that we are not alone,
but exist in a community of faith,
called to live, and work and argue together,
about where this political theology leads us.
Confident in our Godly, open, faith-filled language,
that calls us to be good news in the world.
To offend those who need offending,
and comfort those who need comforting.
