Saugatuck Congregational Church, UCC
©Rev. Alison J. Buttrick Patton
Sunday, November 4, 2018
Scriptures: 1 Kings 3:5-13 and Matthew 6:9-10
You could call this sermon, “Part II.” Last week, we read these same verses in the book of 1 Kings, about a dream encounter between the young King Solomon and God. (You can check out last week’s sermon video on our website…) In this scene, God promises Solomon a wise and understanding mind (or a wise and discerning heart – the Hebrew can be translated either way). So last Sunday, I offered some tools for discernment, and shared this definition of wisdom, in the words of the Rev. John Edgerton – Old South Church Boston. “Wisdom is the capacity to re-order both self and world to more closely resemble God’s hope.”
“…the capacity to re-order both self and world to more closely resemble God’s hope…” In other words: To make earth more like heaven…
I feel like I barely scratched the surface last week, so today I want to continue where I left off, with this idea of using “God’s hope” as a barometer in our decision-making. In particular, I want to share with you some of what I’ve been thinking about how discerning God’s hope can inform our choices in the public square. In other words, how does our faith impact our politics?
Election Day is Tuesday (maybe you’ve noticed the deluge of candidate campaign fliers in your mailbox). So this seems a good time to ask, “What does heaven on earth look like, practically speaking? What IS God’s will, God’s hope for us? And how does it relate to the choices we make as engaged citizens of this town, this country, this world?”
I know that invoking the word ‘politics’ in this space may raise the specter of partisan conflict. Some of you have told me that you come to worship to escape the divisiveness that currently mars so many of our interactions and so much of our public discourse. Constant controversy has a way of sapping our strength and deflating our spirits. So we gather in this sanctuary to be restored, to find a bit of the peace that too often eludes us in our day-to-day lives. We all need that. I know I do.
But we also come to worship to listen for a word from God, to seek wisdom and insight for those same everyday lives. We come before the Holy One and ask, “What shall I do when I leave this place? About that argument with my in-laws, or the employee I’m supposed to lay off, or the debt I’m facing, or a difficult neighbor, or that candidate I’ve been asked to support? Tell me, God: This week, how can I be more wise, more patient or courageous, honest or gracious, or faithful?”
In short, we come to church with stuff on our minds and hearts – problems to be solved; worries that weigh us down; decisions we need to make – and what do we do? We pray the the Lord’s Prayer – every Sunday, including these words: “Your will be done, on earth as in heaven.”
Those are the words that Jesus taught us to pray, the ones he introduced during his famous Sermon on the Mount, according to the Gospel of Matthew. “Pray in this way,” Jesus said. In that same sermon, Jesus offered tips for managing anger, loving enemies, keeping promises and donating our money. In other words: he talked about the kinds of practical issues that we face every day.
That’s what interests me, what I want to explore with you: How faith might influence the ways we actually live our lives: How we spend our money, pass our time, vote, work, and interact with each other… I do not presume that there’s a single way to be a Christian, a single right answer to all our Big Questions. (if there was, there would be no need for discernment, would there?)
If you picked up the New York Times on Friday, you may have noticed a cover article featuring half a dozen evangelical Christians reflecting on the relationship between their faith and their politics (this, after I’d already starting working on this sermon). The young people interviewed included women and men of various racial-ethnic backgrounds, based in different parts of the country, who variously self-identified as Democrats, Republicans or Independents. All of them are taking positions informed by their Christian faith. So clearly, drawing on Christian teachings does not guarantee that we will all agree. I don’t expect that. Not when it comes to all of Christendom, and not when it comes to you and me, right here at Saugatuck Church. And that’s ok.
I DO believe that some policies and practices get us a little closer to an earth that looks like heaven, while others make heaven more distant. I believe God wants us to do the work of discerning which is which, to actively live into that prayer, “your will be done on earth as in heaven,” to proactively ask ourselves and each other, “How do our practices – how we structure our budgets, or treat our neighbors, or define our public priorities – align with God’s hope for the world?”
I believe that conversation belongs squarely within the church. That asking what policies and practices get us closer to God’s hope is exactly what we should be discussing in Christian community. Indeed, I can think of no better, no richer, no more faithful conversation for us to have. It’s right there in the Lord’s Prayer.
As Michael Hendricks has pointed out (Michael, a Saugatuck member who preached a few weeks back), that prayer begins with the words, “Our Father, in heaven” – “Our,” not “My…” It was always intended to be a communal prayer, concerned not just with my personal needs and wants, but with the well-being of all God’s people.
It’s also right there in the word ‘politics,’ which comes from the root polis, or city. To be ‘political’ means to seek the good of the city, the good of our whole community. And that’s our Christian call.
This is not always easy conversation, precisely because we are making claims – not only about what matters to us, but about what matters to God – and that’s always risky business. Such reflection demands respect, a great deal of tenderness, care-filled listening and an ample dose of humility. We are all feeling our way forward. But in the words of one member this week, “If a church group can’t do it, then who can?”
I also believe it’s my task, as your pastor, to take my best shot at naming how I think God is calling us to make earth more like heaven, based on my reading of the Gospels and the movement of God’s Spirit among us. If I’m not doing that, if I’m not trying, every week, to make the connections between these ancient texts and our contemporary reality, if I’m not urging all of us to do the same, then I’m not doing my job.
Because really: What’s the point of the gospel, if we’re not trying to live it?
When I preach about welcoming refugees, or dismantling racism, or caring for the earth or pursuing economic justice, I do so because I believe the gospel calls us to address these matters. Because Jesus said, “I have come to preach good news to the poor and to set the captives free.” Because he warned us not to fall victim to greed, and instructed us to love our neighbors and welcome the stranger. Because he hung out with women and lepers and other outcasts. Because God created everything, all this wild diversity and declared it all good.
That’s what guides my discerning, on my best days: the conviction that God longs for a world in which all creation can flourish, where the most vulnerable are lifted up, all people are treated with dignity and (in the words of our communion prayer) sharing by all will mean scarcity for none. When I vote, I ask, “How does this candidate or policy contribute to that vision of human thriving? Who benefits? Who suffers, by the choices I make?”
I am a work in progress; most days I fail to live up to that vision of earth-more-like-heaven; too often, I end up making choices driven by convenience, self-interest, impatience, or fear… That’s why there’s grace.
And I keep trying: to imagine God’s heaven on earth, and then to pursue it. I am grateful for partners in this holy work. – For all of you. May God guide our faithful discerning AND our faith-filled actions; may God lend us wisdom, this day and every day.
Amen.