Explaining Ourselves

"Explaining Ourselves"

1 Peter 3:13-16a
September 28, 2008

Now who will harm you if you are eager to do what is good? But even if you do suffer for
doing what is right, you are blessed. Do not fear what they fear, and do not be
intimidated, but in your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord. Always be ready to make your
defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you;
yet do it with gentleness and reverence.

Paul Tillich is one of the most celebrated theologians of the last 100 years, who was
especially prominent during the 1950’s, capturing even a Time magazine cover—and
he was one of our theologians in the United Church of Christ, coming out of one of the
predecessor denominations who had its roots in Germany. In one of his most famous
sermons, Tillich tells the story of “Elsa Brandstrom, the daughter of a Swedish diplomat
who, as a nurse during World War I, cared for the prisoners in the prisoner of war
camps. She fought against the brutality of the guards, against cold, depravation,
disease, and hunger. She gave food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, strength to the
sick. When the war was over, she initiated a program to care for the orphans of the
war prisoners. ‘We never had a theological conversation,’ Tillich said. ‘It was
unnecessary. She made God transparent in every moment. For God, who is love, was
abiding in her and she in Him.’” (Long, Testimony 24-25) You know, in hearing this
story, I can’t help but think about something Mother Teresa onc said, something I’ve
shared with you a few times already: “Enough words,” she said, many years ago, “let
them see what we do.” I love that saying, because, of course, in the end, faith is not
something we can just simply talk about it—it has be something we practice, something
we have our hands and feet put into action.

And to be honest, I think we in the United Church of Christ and this local expression of
the larger church, our church here, I think we do a pretty good job of that, with our
continual commitment to justice for the excluded—we are so often on the cutting edge
of inclusion and justice that we often get labeled as radical, until, of course, everyone
catches up with 30 years later. Thinks about our early, early stance against slavery,
our ordination of a woman long before anyone else, and then the ordination of an
openly gay man in 1970. The United Church of Christ has spoken up when no one had
the courage to speak up and we’ve actually practiced our Christian faith, not just talked
a good game and then did nothing. Don’t get me wrong—this isn’t the perfect
denomination—we’ve probably been as unfaithful to the Gospel as many times as we
have been faithful, but we didn’t simply just talk about justice over the last three
hundred—we’ve really tried to live it out, however imperfectly, and that makes me proud
to be part of this community of 5500 churches across this country. Talk is cheap, folks,
but the doing, the practicing of the talk, the living out of the words, well, that is hard
work, and in our better moments, we are a people who let our lives speak more than
our words.

And that is a good thing, a really good thing. But you know, I’ve been thinking the last
few years that maybe, just maybe, the doing, the practicing, of our faith has sometimes
been an excuse for many of us to not talk about our personal faith, to not express our
own personal connection to the God who propels us to do the works of justice and
inclusion we so often try to do in this world. In our effort to live out our faith, in our
efforts to not be the kind of people we are so often turned off by, offended by, we just
clam up when it comes to actually talking about faith. Tom Long, who now teaches in
the seminary I graduated from, tells this story: “I once knew a man, a fundamentalist
Christian, who, when greeted with a sociable ‘Hello, how are you?’ would invariably
respond, ‘Saved! How are you?’ In the barbershop, at the grocery store, on the street,
the reply was the same: a big empty grin and aloud ‘Saved! How are you?’ He no
doubt considered this social greeting to be part of his ‘witness’ and a faithful teaching
moment, but the truth is you just wanted to smack him. So people avoided him.” (Long,
Testimony 22-23) Professor Long has a point here—so much of the God-talk people
use tries to kick the door down, so to speak, but so often it’s just downright offensive,
even to those who share the same faith. No wonder most of us don’t want to speak
about our faith, because so often the ones who do have the courage to tell others of
their faith often do it in a way that is just rude, arrogant, and simply seems nothing
more than a crude form of religious marketing.

And yet, there is still a need to share with one another why we do what we do, why we
believe what we believe, and even why we sometimes struggle with that belief. There
are moments when the silent witness of our lives is not enough, and we need to speak
the truth of our spiritual experiences, as diverse as they may be, especially in a place
like this, to speak those truths to each other and to the larger world. In our passage
today, we have the author of 1 Peter writing to a church in Asia Minor in order to give
them hope during their time of suffering and to remind them that there will be those who
will persecute them, who will have a real problem with them, because of the way they
live their lives, because of peculiar faith they practice. There will always be people who
mock others for living a life based on the beautiful naivety of the Golden Rule, or even
the Rule of Love—you find that kind of cynicism in our own culture, though perhaps not
as deeply as you would have found it in the first century. What they do, how they live
their lives, will bring attention to them, good and bad, the author says to that early
church, but more likely, bad, and when those moments come, there will be a need to
speak, to tell the truth of one’s experience with this God we have within us through this
Jesus of Nazareth. “Always be ready,” the writer says, “to make your defense to
anyone who demands from you an accounting of the hope that is within you”—yet—and
this is an important “yet,” so to speak, “do it with gentleness and reverence.”   Oh, I
wish we all took that piece of advice seriously, and how I wish the man in Professor’s
Long story did as well!

But there is it is, this call to speak about our faith, to give an “apologia”, which is the
Greek word for defense, a defense of our faith in a very non-defensive way, to speak of
the how and the why we do what we do, the how and the why we live our lives the way
we do in response to the gift given to us in our Christian faith. That is a hard thing to
do for many of us, and its even hard for me many times—me, who makes a living
speaking of faith every week. Yes, even I struggle with expressing my faith, mostly
because I have seen how others have often expressed their faith in the ways that are
rude and offensive, and I don’t want to do to others what others have so often done to
me—which is to use words of faith as words of judgment. But the other reason I have
often struggled with expressing my faith in words, especially in conversations with
others, is because I really do respect and value the faith journeys of other people—I
really don’t believe that my journey with God has to be your journey with God, and my
understanding of Christ has to be your understanding of Christ. And when a Christian
minister expresses their faith, often its seems as authoritative, as if I am demanding that
others live out their faith journeys exactly the way I have chosen to live out my own. I
suspect a few of you have that same experience, though probably without the added
burden of a professional talker of faith like myself—you are reluctant to speak of your
faith because you don’t want to be perceived as saying that your faith is the only kind
of faith that is true or authentic or real. They say you ought not to talk about politics or
religion in polite company…well, I’m not sure about politics, but I don’t think “they” are
right about religion.

And that is why we are going to have this church-wide overnight retreat this year, the
first ever in the history of this church. The theme of the retreat is “Tell It Like It Is” and it’
s going to offer us a chance to share with each other our experiences of God in a safe
place, in a space and place that will encourage us to do something different because
we are in a different space and place. When we remove ourselves from the familiar
places in our lives—this building, our homes, etc—it is in those moments that God can
do some pretty unfamiliar things in our lives—just ask our youth who went to the
National Youth event in July about that profound truth. It is a time for us to do what the
writer of 1 Peter has asked us to do, which is to give voice to that hope that is within us,
however our brightly, or even dimly it might flare inside of us. It’s time to tell the story of
what we have seen and heard in this world, what we have seen and heard of God’s
presence in this world, or, let’s be honest, for some of us, maybe to even to tell the
difficult stories of how God has not been seen and heard in our lives for quite awhile.
This time in Sawyer will be a place where we can really be honest with each other, we
can share the good news, and maybe, even the bad news, with each other, knowing
that we seek together is what Christ said would make us free—and that is truth, the
truth as we have personally experienced it.

Again, I go to Tom Long again, that man who is also quoted extensively in your bulletin
today, in the Prayer and Meditation section. He writes: In 1986, Susan, a neighbor of
mine, found herself with an empty nest and a bit more time to engage some of the
interests neglected in the years raising a family. She decided to get back into the
academic swing by taking a spring course at a local community college. Checking the
catalogue, she spotted an offering titled ‘U.S. Foreign Policy: 1945- To Present” She’d
never ventured into politics, and she thought this course might stretch her. It met in
the evening, once a week, so it looked convenient, interesting, and challenging. She
enrolled. At the first meeting of the course, she was surprised to discover that she and
the professor were the only American citizens in the class. The dozen or so other class
members were all international students, some of them taking the course as part of the
process of becoming naturalized citizens of the United States. The course moved
along well until-mid April, when newspaper headlines announced that the US military
had carried out a bombing raid against Libya, resulting in the death of several dozen
people. President Reagan said that the air attack was a direct response to the
bombings one month earlier of a German nightclub in which American soldiers had
been killed and Libyan agents were suspects. Public opinion strongly supported
Reagan, viewing the air raids as an appropriate and needed retaliation against Libya
and its leaders. The professors began the next meeting of the class by saying “We
have seen in the news this week a controversial expression of US foreign policy. What
reactions do you have? The students were silent as stones. Finally Susan hesitantly
ventured a response: “My husband and I disagree about this,” she said, “but I don’t
think America should have done the bombing.” A young Asian woman in the class
looked dumbstruck. “You are the only American I have heard say anything like that,”
she stammered. “Are you a revolutionary?” “No,” Susan snapped, “I’m a Republican.”
“Then why,” asked the woman, “why are you against the bombing of Libya.” Susan said
later that she was tempted to respond, “Hey, it’s a free country. Everybody’s entitled to
an opinion,” but she sensed that something was at stake here, that something about
the situation called for a deeper, more honest response. “The reason why I disapprove
of the bombing,” Susan said, “is because of my Christian faith. I know we cannot make
foreign policy out of the New Testament, but we are told to ‘repay no one evil for evil’
and I just can’t rest easy with this.” What followed was a spirited and probing
conversation, involving the whole class, on balancing love and justice, peace and
security, national loyalties and faith commitments, all because the window opened and
Susan decided to speak.” Long, Testimony 26-27)

No matter whether we think Susan is right or wrong about the bombing of Libya, that is
the kind of conversation and difficult truth telling we ought to have with each other—
why do we believe what we believe and how is that expressed in our lives? She could
have chosen the easy route—“hey, it’s just my opinion,” but instead she told the truth
of her personal faith experience and values, and it opened up all kinds of windows for
others to look through. Look, living the Christian life, being a person of character and
goodness, will always be valued more than words about character and goodness, or
even our words about Christianity or Christ. Mother Teresa is right about this—so
many people talk the game of faith without putting it into action…but there does come a
time when we need to share our faith, our hope with each other, and with the world,
through our words as well as our lives, so that we can open up some windows inside of
us and open up some windows to the world outside of us. For us in this place, I think
the time is now, because I really do think there a lot of people who want to know what
motivates this special community of faith, what makes us do what we do, what makes us
open the doors that we do. There is a story about an Amish man was once asked by
an enthusiastic young evangelist whether he had been saved and whether he accepted
Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. The gentleman replied, "Why do you ask me such
a thing? I could tell you anything. Here is the name of my banker, my grocer and my
farm hands. Ask THEM if I am saved." I think the Amish guy is right, but still, I wonder
what would have happened if that young evangelist had returned after going to this
man’s bank, and grocer and employees: would this good Amish farmer have also gifted
us with his story about this hope that was within him, that Christ light within him, that
had made him the kind of good man he had become? I want to hear that story, and I
want to hear your story, and whether or not you come to retreat in November, I hope
you’ll have the courage to tell your story of faith—you know, I may just need to hear it
someday, and you might need to hear mine, and maybe together we can get through
this good, but sometimes difficult life together, side by side, knowing that we need each
other’s truths, each other’s stories, in order to completely understand the big beautiful
picture that God is painting in this world. Amen.