Frequently the events of the day cause my faith to sputter. My beliefs and my values clash with those of others in society. Someone once pointed out, “We live in a culture like a fish lives in the sea. We’re blissfully unaware of our surroundings.” But right now everyone is highly aware of their surroundings, and we are not very happy with them.
We are quarantined. I think, “I didn’t volunteer for wearing a mask, confinement at home, tracking the deaths of over 50,000 people, or wondering if there will be a repeat performance of Covid-19 six months from now.” Perhaps it has to do with my immersion in what is going on around me. Anxiety pervades our country; people are tired of being cooped up at home, many unable to work, restaurants closed, no amateur or professional sports, church on zoom (much better than no church at all). And that doesn’t touch on the tremendous challenges faced by critical care hospital and nursing home workers, nor the patients they serve.
I can imagine culture in the form of a landing net on a WWII troop carrier. Lay the net flat on the ground. Stand in one of the open squares. Let the square define a culture of which you are a part and to some extent you understand.
It could be Western or Asian culture. Many people in each of these societies share broadly similar histories and lifestyles. It could be Buddhist or Palestinian or Native American. It could be Black or Hispanic. It could be one of several geographical US cultures. Numerous maps and charts have been designed in an effort to portray regional similarities and differences.
It is when you step into a different part of the net that difficulties can arise. I. could move from the Left Coast to another area. I was raised near Detroit and have vacationed frequently in Wisconsin. I lived in Chicago and attended seminary there. Later our family moved to Cleveland. I could be comfortable in Yankeedom without much effort.
Yet I know from experience I would be woefully unaware of many linguistic and culinary customs in Greater Appalachia. I might also encounter a communal suspicion about my reasons for being there. We once took a church youth group from Cleveland to work on a mission project in Kentucky, and we got lost near Harlan. I decided to ask for directions at a small log cabin store on a dirt road. When we walked in the door we noticed large animal traps, high caliber guns, and double compound bows. They were hanging behind the counter, which was stacked with ammunition. The proprietor asked in a slow drawl, “And just what are you boys doin’ here?” At the moment I wondered that myself.
But truthfully I could experience the same disquiet at home, be just as culturally adrift here on the Left Coast. If I met someone who had a marijuana enterprise (those businesses are prolific in Oregon) my personal values would be challenged immediately. At one point in my past that would not have been true, but my life has changed. Now I might be friendly toward that person, but I doubt we could ever agree on what constitutes a moral occupation or become close companions.
I share a similar discomfort in the company of some who are either extremely wealthy or dreadfully poverty-stricken. I remember having breakfast in a hotel dining room with an affluent parishioner. He had invited me and we had – I’m serious - two forks apiece and real linen napkins. After an hour I asked him if he wanted me to go check the parking meter on his car. I said, “I don’t want you to get a ticket.”
He said, “Parking tickets are only $15.00. I’d never worry about that.” I thought, well, I would. I was also hoping he wouldn’t expect me to pay for breakfast.
Likewise I have frequently attempted in the course of my pastoral ministry to offer support to poor or homeless individuals. Sometimes I have done well, at others not so much. I have often felt ill-equipped to decide whether a person with no resources should receive money from the church, or out of my emotional league to care about that person deeply without judging them or seeing them as a recurring burden. At times it has been gratifying to offer help and encouragement. Likewise it has been frustrating when I’ve felt like I was being manipulated.
The question I struggle with here is how my faith in Christ can guide me through the several encounters I have with others when my beliefs and values are diametrically opposed to theirs.[1] Right now I straddle the ropes of the landing net that divide American Baptists and progressive Quakers. It’s easy for me to take part in both of those worlds. We regularly attend a church connected with one or the other denomination. But I’m adrift with the religious reasoning of right-wing anarchists and narcissistic anti-immigration bureaucrats. I’m especially uncomfortable with self-proclaimed “Christian evangelicals” who are attempting to build a white authoritarian society, or with politicians whose goal is to provide more and more profit for large businesses. I may exist in the same geographical space with them, but we are several times removed when it comes to our values.
I believe deeply in the peaceful resolution of conflict, fair legal treatment of minorities, the welcoming of immigrants, and government provision of adequate food, housing and medical treatment for those with negligible income. For me those are inarguable Biblical values. Where does it leave a person trying to be faithful when Christ’s salvation is intended to encompass the entire world[2]- the whole net, if you will - and yet you can’t relate to some of the people in your own cultural vicinity? It challenges me. But I’m somewhat reassured knowing this was the plight of the first followers of Jesus.
Ultimately,” or so H. Richard Niebuhr wrote as early as 1929, “the problem of church and world involves us in a paradox; unless the church accommodates itself to the world, it becomes sterile inwardly and outwardly; unless it transcends the world, it becomes indistinguishable from the world and loses its effectiveness no less surely.” [3]
Niebuhr has been roundly criticized over the past 90 years for his inability to cover all the theological bases that deal with Christ and culture. But I can resonate with him. How does one prevent inward and outward sterility of faith when the church clashes with the world? What I have been taught, and what I have frequently taught others, is that God is constantly present, caring for us, loving us, suffering with us when necessary. Niebuhr went on to state,
The rhythm of approach and withdrawal need not be like the swinging of the pendulum, mere repetition without progress; it may be more like the rhythm of the waves that wash upon the beach; each succeeding wave advances a little farther into the world with its cleansing gospel before that gospel becomes sullied with the earth.[4]
The world is a big place, and its beach is expansive. To keep one’s own faith unsullied in the midst of it we begin by inviting those waves to wash over us, individually and communally. Granted it is a much smaller beach than the one possessed by the world, but the waves wash over us nonetheless. The gospel is still a cleansing gospel.
Part of our evidence for God’s constant presence is the existence of a beautiful earth, the love of others, and our love for them. But it is more than that. Our relationship is initiated by God and it calls for a response, in this case having the conviction that God’s Spirit is always with us. The response is to be “joyful in hope, patient in affliction and faithful in prayer.”[5] The strength of the “cleansing gospel waves” is in the hope they contain. Hope in Christ is much more than an idyllic dream. It is the certainty of well-being that arises unbidden within us when everything is out of sorts. It is the assurance framed by the teachings and actions of Jesus, by the confessions and deeds of the saints. Or as the Apostle Paul put it, “Hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”[6]
Michael Sayler
April, 2020
Well-done! Any chance that we could use this in the Wayside newsletter? This would work even better than the previous one. With the introduction and link option in MailChimp the length is not a problem.
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