With God on Our Side: Reflections on the Religious Right

When I was in Seminary in the 1960's studying with Paul Tillich and Harvey Cox -- one was at the end of a career and the other at the beginning-- and reading the works of Bishop John A. T. Robinson and others, we talked a lot about the death of God and the secular city and the world coming of age, a world on which formal religion would have less and less impact. That is one reason I became a sociologist. I don't think they are doing that anymore. Last fall I spoke at Harvard Divinity School and a couple of days later at the University of Chicago School of Theology. As it turns out, they are talking more and more about religious revival, about the rise of new religions, about the worldwide resurgence of fundamentalism, about the enormous impact religion is having on world affairs and, in this country, about the increased prominence of the Religious Right, a movement which may already be the most powerful special interest group in America and which has given ample notice that it doesn't consider its job anywhere near done.

As has been mentioned, I have written a book: With God on Our Side, available at a book table near you. This serves as the companion volume to the PBS series of the same name. If they run out here, you can call up http://wmartin.com/withgod on the Internet and you should be able to find all the books you'll ever want.

Both the book and the TV series aim at being as objective and fair as possible, though not always neutral. In describing and accounting for the lives of the Religious Right, which we define simply as religious conservatives with a considerable involvement in political activity, the book and the series tell the story primarily by focusing on leading episodes in the movement's history, including, but not limited to, the groundwork laid by Billy Graham in his relationships with presidents and other prominent political leaders; the resistance of evangelical and other Protestants to the candidacy of the Roman Catholic John F. Kennedy; the rise of what has been called the New Right out of the ashes of Barry Goldwater's defeat in 1964; a battle over sex education in Anaheim, California, in the mid-1960's; a prolonged cultural war over textbooks in West Virginia in the early 1970's -- and that is a battle that has been fought less violently in community after community all over the country; the thrill conservative Christians felt over the election of a "born-again" Christian to the Presidency in 1976 and the subsequent disappointment they experienced when they found out that Jimmy Carter was, of all things, a Democrat; the rise of the Moral Majority and its infatuation with Ronald Reagan; the difficulty the Religious Right has had in dealing with abortion, homosexuality and AIDS; Pat Robertson's bid for the presidency and his subsequent launching of the Christian Coalition; efforts by Dr. James Dobson and Gary Bauer to win a "civil war of values" by changing the culture at a deeper level than is represented by winning elections; and, finally, by addressing crucial questions about the appropriate relationship between religion and politics or, as we usually put it, between church and state. We have told these stories with the aid of extensive interviews with more than a hundred people, most of them key participants. It isn't possible for me to go into these stories in any detail in such a short time, so I thought, instead of doing that, I would like to devote my time this morning to addressing some of the main questions people have asked me repeatedly over the course of the last two years, when I was working on the book, and after the book had come out.

First of all, "Who and how numerous are they, these folk who make up the Religious Right?" Most of them are White Evangelical Protestants. As a recent study conducted by Pew Research Center makes clear -- and this is supported by other studies including a significant study released last fall, "A Survey of American Political Culture," by Dr. James Davidson Hunter, who wrote the book Culture Wars -- White Evangelical Protestants are not, as the Washington Post famously called them in 1993, "less affluent, less educated, and more easily led than the average American." That, by the way, was not in an editorial, not in an op-ed piece, but in a front-page news story. It was arrogant and a mistake as well, and certain people mentioned that to the Washington Post. Contrary to that image, White Evangelical Protestants are mostly in the demographic mainstream, with only somewhat less formal education and a slightly larger proportion of poor people than the population as a whole. They are concentrated in the South, truer to the stereotype -- about half of their members live in these areas -- with large numbers, nearly seventy percent, living in small cities, towns, and rural areas. Their numbers are growing rapidly in the suburbs of Sunbelt cities where conservative cultural traditions are being challenged by waves of newcomers. They comprise twenty-five percent of all registered voters. This is similar to mainline or non-Evangelical Protestants and to Roman Catholics. It is three times the number of black Christians who are registered voters, four times the numbers of non-registered voters, and twelve times the numbers of Jewish voters -- and Episcopalian voters. This is not a fringe of American life. Now, of course, not all White Evangelical Protestants are members of the Religious Right or even regard themselves as Republicans. But forty-two percent do call themselves Republicans. That is up from twenty-six percent in 1976 and thirty-five percent in 1987. (There has been no comparable switch of parties in this century other than the switch among blacks from the Republican to the Democratic party during the Roosevelt era.)

And forty-two percent consider themselves Republicans compared to thirty percent of all registered voters. Moreover, the more highly committed they are to their region, the more likely they are to vote Republican. Furthermore, they are more likely actually to vote. In the 1996 election, about two-thirds of White Evangelical Protestants voted, compared to slightly less than half of the general population, and of course that "general population" includes them. So they have a power beyond their numbers. Now, as I said, not all White Evangelical Protestants are active members of the Religious Right. Perhaps one fourth to one third are. Interestingly, those who are differ somewhat from the group as a whole. Those who are in the Christian Right are disproportionately well educated, well paid, and members of the professional classes. For example, two thirds have some college, compared to one-half of all Americans. One third have bachelor's degrees, compared to one-fifth of all Americans of appropriate age. Forty-two percent belong to some kind of occupation that could be called professional compared to twenty percent of the general population. They are not, however, on the highest rungs of the occupational ladder, and that creates some tension for them, because they feel they have made it, but are still not in positions of power. They are also disproportionately well represented among Baby Boom Americans, with their greatest numbers in the thirty-five to forty-nine-year-old group. They make up slightly over one-third of the GOP, up from one-fourth in 1987. Again, this is a truly significant group within the Republican party. This upward trend is far more pronounced in the South than in other parts of the country. White Evangelicals are more conservative on abortion, homosexuality, and other so-called "family issues" than are most Americans. They are also more conservative on environmentalism and issues of international security. This holds true independent of income, Southern residence, and other factors. Religion seems to be the key factor here.

Professor Hunter's study uncovered another interesting finding. There is a quite surprising belief in conspiracy. We know, of course, that conspiracy ideas are floating around in American society and that about ten percent of all Americans believe there is some kind of conspiracy of the government against the people. Slightly over forty percent of the active members of the Religious Right believe there is some kind of conspiracy. They also regard Bill and Hillary Clinton as a kind of symbol of all that is wicked. They are cynical and pessimistic about major institutions, but they have not given up hope. That, of course, provides a great deal of their impetus for their activities. They do believe they can change things. They know it is difficult, but they think it is possible. So this provides us with some idea of who makes up the Religious Right. This is not the whole picture, but it is the dominant group.

Second question: "How much power and influence do they have?" It is easily possible to over- or underestimate the real impact of the Religious Right, but certain assertions seem reasonably safe. Thousands of Fundamentalist and Evangelical pastors and millions of their flocks who were previously not much involved in politics have become convinced it is their Christian duty to get involved. They often say that the duty of the Fundamentalist pastor is to get his folk saved, baptized, and registered to vote. And they have registered millions of voters in that belief. They represent millions of rather easily mobilizable votes and they are likely to vote in a particular way on a number of recognizable issues. They dominate the Republican party in eighteen states, including Texas. And they have substantial influence in thirteen other states' Republican organizations. In about half of each of those categories, moderate Republicans are offering strong resistance, but religious conservatives obviously play a major role at both the local and national levels. They have been phenomenally successful at getting their agenda on the record and they are trying to have their beliefs incorporated in public policy.

Though not a majority, their commitment to voting gives them a strength beyond their numbers. Even in a presidential year, only about fifty to sixty percent of eligible voters vote. (This last year we were at the low end of that -- about forty-nine percent.) Even in a high year, that means that thirty-one percent, perhaps significantly fewer, of the electorate can decide an election. Last year twenty-five percent could have decided the election. In school board or city council elections, to which they are giving a great deal more attention, five or six percent, or even fewer, may provide the winning margin. That is the membership of two or three large churches. They use the so-called "stealth" techniques less than they once did, but they still like to come in at the last minute and distribute voter guides, often putting them on cards at churches, or to conduct saturation telephone campaigns on the weekend before the election. If there are distortions in the voter guides, which there often are, if they are passed out on the Sunday before a Tuesday election, it is pretty hard for anybody to mount a substantial response. This last election, the Christian Coalition distributed forty-five million voter guides on the Sunday before the election. They once told their members to play down their Christian affiliations. They appear more open about their involvement these days, but there is still some disjunction between what is said in public and what is said in private.

As for their effectiveness, in 1992, 1994 and, it appears, in 1996, they won about forty percent of the elections they were involved in. A high percentage of those were elections in which the winning candidate got fifty-five percent of the votes or less. The significance of that is, these were situations in which their help may well have been decisive. They tend not to support candidates who have no chance of winning, nor do they waste money on "slam dunks." They are interested in participating only where they may make a difference. That is why the Christian Coalition didn't support Pat Buchanan. He might have been their favorite candidate, but they knew he didn't have a chance, and, when Bob Dole began to look like a lost cause, they backed away from him and paid more attention to state and local elections. (As a matter of fact, it seems like much of the Republican Party did much of the same thing.)

They don't expect to win them all, but neither do they expect to retire from the field. One of the closing quotes in the television series is from Ralph Reed, who says, "We want to be a permanent fixture on the American political landscape. We are going to stay and stay and stay. If it takes three Presidents and six Congresses to pass these items, we are going to be there in the morning and we're going to be there in the evening when the lights are out. We are going to be there as long as it takes to see that these issues are addressed."

Now how did this happen? In the book and in the series, we detail the evolution of this movement, but let me sketch some of the high points for you now. Before this current movement, there was an old Christian Right. It consisted of people like Carl McIntire, Billy James Hargis, Edgar G. Bundy, and Fred Schwarz. These were primarily interested in being anti-Communist. They weren't terribly well organized and they didn't have much impact electorally, though they did provide the seed bed from which some other aspects of the movement could grow. Some people who are currently active were active at that time. More important, the New Right arose in the mid-1960's and early 1970's and continues to be quite important. The key figures here are the direct mail expert Richard Viguerie, political organizer Paul Weyrich, and Howard Phillips. These men have been around for a long time, pushing an extremely conservative and economic agenda. Paul Weyrich -- if you are not familiar with that name, you really ought to be -- stays in the background to a good extent, but he's a terrifically important figure in American politics. He's the most important ideological figure of the New Right and also the Godfather of the Religious Right. In 1973 with aid from money from Joseph Coors, Weyrich helped establish the Heritage Foundation, which is the major philosophical and ideological organization behind the new Right. It publishes an avalanche of position papers from a wide range of issues. Also in the mid-1970's, Weyrich founded the Free Congress Foundation, which now serves as his main base, and he began assembling a coalition of single-issue groups around such things as abortion. In 1991, he founded "National Empowerment Television," which beams a full state of unfiltered programs to conservative groups who receive them by satellite dish all around the country. You know that Newt Gingrich had a television program, but you probably have never seen it. Well, Newt Gingrich's program was on NET, National Empowerment Television. And it went only to those people who could receive it by satellite dish. Weyrich says, "Our intention is to wire this country, to have groups in every congressional district constantly getting information and instructions about how to become more effective participants in the political arena." They aren't really interested in having a wider audience outside of their circle. In fact, until last year, they changed their dial periodically on the transponder, so that you couldn't get their program unless you knew where to find it. It was not advertised in the newspaper. If you wanted to have a satellite dish for your group and could not afford one, Pat Robertson would help you get one. Weyrich has said, "This alliance between religion and politics didn't just happen. I have been working on this for years." Weyrich plays hardball. He usually uses legitimate tactics. He is an extremely effective political figure, with astonishing impact.

The third phase of this movement is what we primarily want to talk about -- the New Christian Right or simply the Religious Right. The Religious Right was mobilized by the New Right. Beginning in 1976, Weyrich, Phillips and Morton Blackwell, who organizes young men and teaches them how to be political activists -- Ralph Reed is one of his graduates -- launched a concentrated effort to involve conservative churches in their cause. Morton Blackwell said that Evangelical and Fundamentalist Christians represented the largest stand of uncut virgin timber on the American political landscape, and they set out to do some heavy logging to enlist Independent Baptist and numerous "Bible churches". They met with Jerry Falwell in Lynchburg, Virginia, in 1979. And in the coffee shop of the Holiday Inn there, Weyrich was saying to Falwell, "There is a moral majority in this country that wants such and such," and Falwell said, "Back to where you started. What was that you said? You used a phrase." Weyrich said, "There is a moral majority . . . " Falwell says, "That's it. That's what we'll call it. We'll form an organization, and that is the name we'll give it." In the 1980 election, Falwell's Moral Majority was the most visible representative of what came to be called the Religious Right, just as the Christian Coalition is now the most visible representative. Other important groups included the Religious Roundtable, which appealed mainly to Southern Baptists. Christian Voice drew heavily from Pentecostal circles. Falwell has greatly reduced his role. He closed down the Moral Majority and its successor organization, the Liberty Federation, in the late 1980's. He now regards himself as an elder statesman. He still dabbles a little bit. Last year he was selling a scurrilous anti-Clinton video that accused the President of complicity in about 26 murders (I think he was the actual the trigger man in only a half a dozen or so.) One of Falwell's former associates says that Jerry is just one drink away from getting back into politics, that he is addicted to it and would like to get back in.

The religious right is largely a reactive movement. It has come out of a background of non-involvement, based on theological belief and general preference to win souls, not elections. Most Fundamentalists felt the task was insurmountable and non-elective. Millions of them didn't even vote. They claim, with some justification, to have been forced into the political arena. Over the last forty years a series of catalyzing events and developments --the Supreme Court decisions prohibiting school-sponsored prayer and Bible reading, the widespread introduction of sex education in public schools, feminism, abortion, gay rights, AIDS, soaring divorce rates, sex and violence in the media, and the like -- either generated a direct response or served as a continuing target for response from people for whom these developments were quite offensive and threatening. The critical event was Pat Robertson's candidacy in 1988. During the 1980's, Robertson had set up an effective grass roots organization in thirty states. He came in first or second in the first seven primaries. He defeated George Bush in Michigan. You might not know that because the newspapers reported it the other way. They said that Bush had defeated him. The reason they did that is because Lee Atwater and the Republican organization had computers and hors d'oeuvres and liquor, and they told the press, "We won." Pat Robertson's group had white notebooks and telephones, and they said, "It looks like we won." "No," Lee Atwater said, "we won," and the press reported it that way. We have a Bush aide saying on the video, "We lied." The Religious Right sometimes claims the press is biased against them, and that is partly true. But Robertson won, and he came in first or second in the early primaries. Now those were mostly caucus states, states in which organization and dedication were more important than having the raw numbers. He was ultimately defeated, of course, but just as Goldwater's defeat gave rise to a more powerful, more effective New Right, so out of the ashes of Pat Robertson's defeat came the more powerful and more effective Christian Right.

Now let me tell you a little bit about some of the main groups today. Not all of them, just enough to give you some sense of their scope and interests. Most of them stand together on their positions, and their leaders are in constant contact with each other. They have interlocking directorates. They appear at each other's functions and programs and publications. Key leaders participate in a group called the Coalition on Revival, which is a kind of high-level coordinating board. But there is some specialization. In electoral politics, Christian Coalition, founded in 1988 by Pat Robertson and led for a few months more by Ralph Reed, is the major player in the field. It claims to have one to seven million members and an annual budget of over $20 million. The membership may be exaggerated. Its magazine goes out to only a little over 300,000 people. There is also some talk that perhaps the increase in membership has leveled off, and that this may be one of the factors in Ralph Reed's decision to jump ship or leave the organization this past week, thinking that maybe it is time to leave the organization rather than preside over it in its plateau or perhaps its decline. Still, it is a significant organization. It has more than 120 chapters in this state alone. The Christian Coalition teaches people how to organize. Its stated aim is to train ten activists in every one of 175,000 Republican precincts in this country. If you go to precinct meetings, you know that ten people committed to changing things can make a difference. Its ultimate goal is to take over the Republican party, and it is making considerable inroads. It is also meeting with considerable resistance.

On family issues, more narrowly defined, Dr. James Dobson, the founder and head of "Focus on the Family", is clearly the major player. Dr. Dobson is less well known to the general public, but he may be fully as important as Pat Robertson and Ralph Reed, maybe more so. Dobson's thirty-minute flagship radio program (and he has several others) is heard at least 18,000 times a week over 4,000 thousand stations. His audience is estimated at five million and his books sell in millions. Nobody has a radio audience like Dobson's other than Rush Limbaugh, Paul Harvey, and maybe Dr. Laura. He also has an elaborate set of materials available on the Internet. Republican candidates all come to visit him. Dobson can generate an amazing flood of mail and telephone calls. He is a powerful man and he comes across as much less scary and more reasonable than Robertson. Gary Bauer of the Family Research Council is closely allied with Dobson. He has White House experience; he is often seen in the political discussion shows on the weekend. They write books together. The Family Research Council used to belong to Focus on the Family and is now essentially its political arm in Washington.

Beverly LaHaye's "Concerned Women for America" has 600,000 members and more than 800 chapters. It is the largest women's organization in the country. It is more than twice as large as the National Organization for Women, and its budget is thirty to fifty percent higher. It opposes everything NOW favors. It can generate a huge response immediately. Phyllis Schlafly's "Eagle Forum" was founded in the early 1970's to oppose the ERA and was crucial to its defeat. The ERA was sailing along toward ratification and was stopped in its tracks by members of the Religious Right. Along with Beverly LaHaye's husband Tim LaHaye, Schlafly pushed the idea that secular humanism is the established religion of U.S. public schools. Bill McCartney's "Promise Keepers" is the new and big kid on the block, drawing upwards of 50,000 men for two-day meetings around the country. Like Dr. Dobson, Promise Keepers stresses family responsibility with emphasis on male leadership. It is strongly anti-gay and anti-abortion. In the last year, it has added an additional component, overcoming racism. This seems to be a quite sincere effort, though not many blacks have been attracted so far. In some of its big meetings, it's more a case of about 50,000 white guys looking for ten black guys to hug. It could be a major instrument for recruiting African-Americans into the Religious Right.

Other organizations include the American Family Association, which is concerned mainly with sex and violence in the media. It uses threats and boycotts to persuade advertisers to drop their support of shows featuring offensive material. Obviously it has not been totally successful in that area. All of the groups are opposed to abortion, but none has been more outspoken or at times more outrageous than Operation Rescue, which was founded by Randall Terry and is now headed by the Reverend Flip Benham. Homosexuality is also an extremely significant rallying point. Several groups exploit it for fundraising purposes. The most focused is the Traditional Values Coalition, led by the Reverend Louis Sheldon. Members of the Religious Right, including Bill McCartney, were the primary sponsors of "Colorado's Amendment 2," which struck down the statute outlawing discrimination against gays, which was itself struck down by the Supreme Court last June.

In the field of education, where they are putting much emphasis, the key player is Citizens for Excellence in Education. This organization, led by Robert Simonds, claims to control 2,000 school boards already and seeks to control 5,000 by the end of the century, which is not all that far off. The Christian Right holds six of fifteen positions on the Texas State Board of Education. Nearly all members of the Religious Right favor vouchers that could be used in private religious schools, of which they operate thousands. Some advocate the dismantling of the public school system, which they typically refer to as "government schools." Short of that, they hope to have a decisive impact on curriculum and other basic school matters.

Finally, though they are not as numerous, but still quite important in their influence, there are Reconstructionists, who aspire to replace civil codes with biblical laws, even to the point, among hard-liners, of making homosexuality, adultery, blasphemy, propagation of false doctrine, and incorrigible behavior by children punishable by death. Non-capital offenses could be punishable by slavery. Most Religious Right leaders distance themselves officially from Reconstructionism, but they have their informal ties. They acknowledge their debts and exchange speeches and so forth, as if this is what they would like to be, but they recognize that it is politically unfeasible and even damaging. Howard Phillips, who ran for President in the U.S. Taxpayers' Party, is an avowed Reconstructionist. Dr. D. James Kennedy of the Coral Ridge Ministries, who has a large television ministry, is strongly influenced by Reconstruction. It is not simply a fringe element.

At least part of the success of the new Right and the Religious Right, who often refer to themselves as "Movement Conservatives" and "Social Conservatives," stems from their skillful use of technology and organization. With indispensable assistance from computers, the movement has used direct mail to identify supporters, raise money, propagandize and inflame, generate outrageous amounts of mail to Congress, and get out the vote. Of at least equal importance is their emphasis on organization. Again and again they have identified their constituencies, established organization, set up networks for communication, provided programs and candidates to rally around, and pointed folk toward the voting booth. Once their candidates are elected, they provide an avalanche of position papers to support their causes. This, more than their actual numbers, accounts for their remarkable success. It is a formidable movement with a powerful set of resources, enmeshed in webs of churches and clergy, religious publications, other media, direct mail, and the intense personal networks that are common to church loyalists. Its members tend to rely heavily on a few sources dominated by a clear theological and political message. That is quite good for mobilization. In addition, they tend to have a missionary zeal that is seldom matched by those on the left, and almost never by those in the moderate middle. This is a powerful movement.

The final question I want to address is, "What are the strength and dangers, the weaknesses?" The Religious Right has some unique strengths, strength that need to be taken seriously by their critics. One of these is that they are concerned about important issues -- about abortion, about issues relating to sexuality, problems in public schools, the deterioration of stable family structures, the violent and sexual content in the popular media. Many of these problems, wherever you stand, and you might well stand a different place than members of the Religious Right, are issues of real deep, deep concern. If we are to participate in a common moral community, we need to acknowledge that there are, of course, a number of issues -- concern for the environment, issues of equality, and others -- which I think should be of concern to them but which are not high on their agenda.

As for the dangers, I think religion in general, and Christianity in particular, is ill served when leaders of the Religious Right proclaim what Christians as "people of faith" are going to do if a President or major party disagrees with them, as if they have been empowered to speak for all Christians or all people of faith. Religious people honestly disagree on many issues of public policy, and to pretend otherwise is neither realistic nor honest. And in the Jewish and Christian traditions, claiming to know the mind of God is no longer an original sin, but it is still a pretty big one. It is appropriate for Christians or other religious people to be involved in the political arena, but politics is a complex and ambiguous enterprise and they (or we) should recognize that fact and not be too quick to proclaim that we are right or that all Christians agree with us.

Public cynicism toward religion, and toward the Religious Right in particular, is exacerbated when an organization such as the Christian Coalition claims to be nonpartisan. That simply is not true, and everyone knows it's not true. And I would not be surprised if Ralph Reed's conscience will be much clearer when he doesn't have to pretend that anymore. A student of ours went to a Christian Coalition meeting a couple of weeks ago and one person stood up and said, "Now remember, we are nonpartisan," and everybody laughed. Everyone recognizes this is not true, and I think members of the Christian Coalition would be better served and more highly respected if they gave up that charade and acknowledged its patent partisanship. It is not wrong to be partisan. It's not even wrong to be a Republican. Or at least it is not illegal. To claim one is something, when one is not, is hurtful to the Christian witness. The same holds true for violating any kinds of laws regarding campaigns, elections, contributions, and so forth.

I am also concerned about the demonizing language that is common, not only among the leaders of Religious Right, but also among its critics. The hateful speech we hear so often does not contribute to the common good. Finally, I am particularly concerned about the Religious Right's lack of appreciation for, and even hostility toward, a pluralistic society and one of its crucial underpinnings, the separation of church and state. Without question, religious people have a right to be involved in political activity and they can't be expected to leave their religious convictions behind when they enter the political arena. They have a right to organize themselves to work effectively for the good of their country as they understand it, and to attempt to shape public policy within the limits of the Constitution which has served us so admirably in avoiding society rendering conflict. But there are reasonable and real limits to that shaping process. The most important of these is that a religious body doesn't have the right, simply because it may be in the majority or be better organized than other groups, to bind its specifically religious doctrines upon others or to require that others help pay for the propagation of those doctrines. Religious individuals and groups should respect and honor the valuable principle of pluralism, the essence of which is not that all values are equal, but that our society is one in which any number can play, and that a multiplicity of views contributes not to chaos, but to a rich and diverse republic. (It also contributes to the free-market environment in religion that helps account for the amazing vitality of religion in this country, a vitality unmatched by any other comparably modern society.) The Right seems sometimes to suggest that only one party has a legitimate claim on the American heritage. Our Founding Fathers saw that attitude as dangerous. The system of checks and balances they built in the Constitution was formed not only by the recognition that good citizens may differ over the proper course of action, but also, at least in part, by the Biblical understanding of humans as fallible and prone to wrong-doing, and therefore frequently in need of some healthy opposition from their fellows. Nobody, in their view, has a corner on truth, justice, and the American way.

America has been remarkably favored -- "blessed" if you prefer -- by a wise and constitutional policy of non-preferential protection for the free and responsible exercise of religion. For the good of the entire community, religious and secular alike, we should protect that policy from encroachment from whatever corner. Each generation must redraw the lines of separation between the rights of religion and the rights of civil authority. If those we disagree with, whatever side they are on, cheat or lie or deceive, then we have every right to complain, to oppose, to expose, to embarrass them. If they play by the rules, however, we shouldn't cry foul when they organize themselves into an effective political force. Rather, we should play by the same rules and see if we can organize ourselves into an effective countergroup and see who can persuade the most people. If we are the ones who prevail, whether we are from the Left or the Right, who gain power, we should exercise it with humility and fear, recognizing always its tendency to corrupt its possessors and the causes they represent. Worldly power in religious hands has hardened into many a tragic episode. Men and women convinced of the correctness of their conviction and the purity of their ideals need to be reminded of another truth: certainty also corrupts, and absolute certainty corrupts powerfully.

We cannot separate religion and politics. The question is how they are to be related in such a way as to maintain the pluralism that has served this country so well. Again, the core of that pluralism is not the dogma that no value is to be preferred over another, but the conviction that civility and public peace are important, that respect for opponents and minorities and their opinions is a crucial element of the democratic society, and that however persuaded I am of the rightness of my position, I may still, after all, be wrong.

Towards Reclaiming the Symbol of the Family of God: Identity and Sexuality

When we were given this topic, we were pretty confused as to what to discuss. Identity is part of sexuality and sexuality is part of identity -- both are big topics. So Chris and Jim talked and faxed back in forth for a few days to help us focus. Jim told us that this topic was based on the concerns of those who felt that core parts of their identities, especially their gender or sexual orientation, had been devalued, denied or excluded within much of the Christian tradition. So rather than talk about gender roles, gay and lesbian issues, etc., we decided to talk about what we saw as the basic concern in all of this - belonging, i.e., can I belong in a community and have my identity and sexuality supported and upheld? In our brief comments, we hope to give you a few building blocks on which to focus further discussion.

Identity can have two aspects; personal identity and social identity. The first involves how the individual is known to herself or himself, and is one of the many ways we think of the self, such as the self image or self-concept (Wolfe, 1995). The second form of identity is how the individual is known to the community, not only in terms of his or her own characteristics, but also the attributes, behaviors and roles that the community prescribes or allows for that individual. Belonging in a group always involves a tension between our personal identity, our own sense of self, and our social identity which reflects the claims of our family or community through prescribed roles and behaviors. The lifelong process of working with this tension is often seen as a search for identity, and how we approach resolving this tension depends a lot on the type of belonging we are in.

The family is both a symbol for, and a concrete manifestation of, belonging. The problems of identity and sexuality can be seen as problems in the functioning of a family -- in this case churches and congregations that have difficulty in supporting individuals in the expression of their identity and sexuality.

When Jesus referred to those who do the will of God as his Sisters and Brothers, he was using the Family as a symbol for the relationships not only between us and God, but just as importantly, as a symbol for our relationships with each other (Verna Dozier and Jim Adams pointed this out in their book Sisters and Brothers). Jesus was using a metaphor that could be universally understood, and that was both readily grasped, yet profound in its implications.

Paul extends the Family metaphor in his Epistles by using the analogy of Adoption -- The Episcopal Church uses language in the Baptism ritual that could be seen as implying adoption -- using the phrase "Welcome this person into the Household of God." The image of an adoptive family seems to fit in several ways. Humans may be children of God by being born, but their joining of a faith community is more of a choice. Adoptive families tend to be more diverse, and tend to have more direct experiences in coping with the challenges of creating belonging and dealing with difference. They also involve a conscious commitment to deal with these issues.

At the same time, the whole process of creating an adoptive family raises many concerns about identity and belonging; concerns not unlike those we are all faced with: Three professionals who work with adoptive families (Anderson, Piantanida, and Anderson, 1993) list the questions about identity and belonging that an adopted child will likely have as she or he reaches adolescence:

Who am I and how did I get here? If someone else could give me away, will these people do the same? Who is my family, really? Where and to whom do I belong? Who looks like me? Are there other people like me? Do I have brothers and sisters out there somewhere?

How do families and communities support (or inhibit) the individual in his or her search for belonging and identity? We are going to briefly describe one perspective on how families function - because we see it as analogous to Church life - which may clarify some of the challenges we face in trying to promote inclusiveness in our own "families."

Family functioning refers to how well it is "doing" its tasks. Family tasks include provision of basic survival and shelter and safety, dealing with the sometimes competing needs of its members, and providing a framework for dealing with life transitions - growth, change and loss. A family's competence can be measured according to how well it is accomplishing these tasks and facing these challenges at a given time. An optimally functioning family is one that succeeds in family tasks and promotes the growth and well-being of its individual members.

Families can be understood in how they handle universal concerns of control, power and intimacy -- that is how well they maintain coherence and structure, have a sense of who is in charge of what and at what time, and provide members with feelings of connection trust and support. The psychiatrist, Robert Beavers (Beavers and Hampson, 1993) has developed a model of family functioning -- and I believe that it can be used to understand communities as well.

The model has five levels - at the lowest, the system is chaotic. Control is often absent, or gained occasionally through threat or intimidation. There are no rules, or rules change unpredictably. Power is also absent -- members can feel helpless and despairing. Intimacy is usually impossible -- there is no trust or empathy to build intimacy. These families can't organize around goals, resolve ambivalent feelings or deal with loss or transition. Children in these families rarely experience or express any sense of individual identity, and are sometimes the object of physical and sexual abuse.

At the next level (borderline), some control is achieved, but usually through tyrannical means -- rules are often inflexible, with a black and white quality, and maintained through threat and intimidation. Power resides in the head of the family, but this situation eventually leads to painful power struggles when someone else needs to express their autonomy. Not only are behaviors and choices rigidly suppressed to maintain control, individual feelings and thoughts are as well. This suppression tends to preclude intimacy and there is little trust. One is either all right or all wrong, all good or all bad. There is no place for the expression or even the experiencing of a more personal spiritual self. Sometimes charismatic leaders can take over a religious community and operate like this.

At the midrange level, control is achieved by moving the tyrant inside the individual -- Maggie Scarf refers to the "Invisible Referee," Efforts to control thoughts and feelings as well as behavior refer to rules for behavior and cultural stereotypes, especially regarding gender. Power is often derived the threat of loss of attachment - if you loved me, you wouldn't think or behave in that way. The threat of shame and guilt keeps members in line. "You shouldn't think that way... girls can't ... men don't ..." At this level families and communities have moved out of chaos and tyranny to a situation in which stability is rigidly maintained. Individual identity is supported, but only to the extent that it may conform to the rules and stereotypes. Real intimacy is difficult, because in these families closeness and control have been tied together -- individuals won't reveal their inner thoughts for fear of manipulation or shame. Because people are considered basically bad and untrustworthy, the rules (which are seen as having a self-evident or "god-given" quality) take precedence over individual feelings. As a result, members in these families have difficulties confronting ambivalence, or dealing with paradox.

At the fourth level are Adequate families in which there exists more intimacy, flexibility and openness to individuality. Adequate level families are less likely to maintain control through intimidation than midrange ones, but there is still more sex-role stereotyping (and loss of intimacy) than in Optimal families. However, "... rules are no longer seen as engraved in stone, they are seen as human rules, made by fallible human beings -- and can come into question and undergo change." (Scarf, 1995, p. 35) Adequate families can be seen as sometimes showing optimal levels of relating and sometimes midrange levels.

Within Optimal Families power is in the hands of the parents who have an egalitarian coalition and children are able to be heard fully and influence decisions. Conflicts are usually resolved through negotiation and dialogue, with very little overt power struggles. When fearful, members seek closeness and support rather than control. Control is only occasionally authoritarian. Intimacy, the sharing of one's true self, is supported by the presence of trust and empathy. Members of these families show both a capacity and respect for autonomy and people can make mistakes and change their minds without blame. Flexibility is the norm. Family members relate with openness, warmth, and empathy. Unlike midrange families, people are often accepted in their differences, and understood to be struggling to do right rather than as inherently hostile or destructive. Members of these families hold "significant transcendent values" that enables them to take perspectives of hope in the face of change and loss.

When family researchers look at how families function, i.e., how competently they handle tasks, challenges, and conflicts, rather than how families are structured, the encouragement and support of individuality and difference emerges as a key factor In other words, what is important is how people treat each other within families rather than who they are or how they appear. Family researcher, Froma Walsh (Walsh, 1993) lists the processes these 'healthy' or 'optimal' families use:

Connectedness and commitment--members in a caring and mutually supportive unit Respect for individual differences, autonomy, and separate needs--this fosters the development and well-being of each member For couples, being respectful and supportive of each other, sharing equitable power and responsibilities. Effective parental/executive leadership and authority to nurture, protect, and socialize Organizational stability, with clarity, consistency and predictability Adaptability and flexibility--to better meet stresses and change Open communication characterized by clarity of rules and expectations, positive interactions, and a range of emotional expression and empathic responsiveness Effective problem-solving and conflict-resolution processes A shared belief system that enables trust, and promotes ethical values and concern for the larger human community Adequate resources for security and psychosocial support

Each of these processes reinforces the others and all of these may be organized and expressed in very different ways dependent on the configuration of the family. Each family is unique and will invent its own "blend" of optimal processes.

In our work as therapists we are always trying to help individuals, couples or families change toward more optimal functioning. In our experience, what often seems to precipitate change, especially in midrange, rulebound families, is some sort of crisis that threatens the rules. Sometimes families can achieve a higher level of functioning while getting through that crisis, but there is also a risk that the family will retreat into more ruleboundedness, or devolve to an even lower level of functioning. One example is what can happen in a family when a homosexual child decides to "come out." Some families will find this an opportunity to examine their preconceptions about gender roles, identity and sexuality in such a way that a deeper intimacy and involvement comes about, whereas others can become more split, with increased blaming, denial and polarization. We feel the challenges of identity and sexuality currently faced in our churches are analogous to these family crises, and that the potential outcomes of either growth or retreat are similar.

We want to leave you with three questions to consider for discussion this morning:

How can we belong in our family as we are? Including our identity and sexuality?

How can we support one another in our search for and expressions of our identity and sexuality?

How can we do these things and still hold our family together? (i.e., can we find ways to hold ourselves and others accountable in this search without falling into chaos or rigidity?)

for additional copies of this presentation, contact: Dr. Suzan Stafford, 4025 Connecticut Ave., NW Washington, D.C. 20008. 202-364-8130

 

 

REFERENCES

Adams, James R. So You Can't Stand Evangelism?: A Thinking Person's Guide to Church Growth. Cowley Publications, Boston, MA 1994.

Anderson, S., Piantanida, M., & Anderson, C. "Normal Processes in Adoptive Families", in Normal Family Processes, 2nd Edition. Ed. Walsh, Froma. Guilford Press, New York, 1993.

Beavers, W. R. & Hampson, R. B. "Measuring Family Competence: The Beavers Systems Model." Normal Family Processes, 2nd Edition. Ed. Walsh, Froma. Guilford Press, New York, 1993.

Dozier, Verna J. & Adams, James R. Sisters and Brothers: Reclaiming a Biblical Idea of Community. Cowley Publications, Boston, MA, 1993.

Scarf, Maggie. Intimate Worlds. Random House, New York, 1995.

Walsh, Froma. ""Conceptualization of Normal Family Processes" in Normal Family Processes, 2nd Edition. Ed. Walsh, Froma. Guilford Press, New York, 1993.

Wolfe, Barry E., PhD. ""Self Pathology and Psychotherapy Integration", Journal of Psychotherapy Integration, Vol 5, No. 4, 1995.

The Road that Leads Through the Bible

I am honored to have been asked to lead the Bible study at this gathering, although it is not without some trepidation I accepted. I am well aware there are many here who could do this equally well or better than I. l: also know there are some who would say that asking Romney to lead a Bible study is a bit risky, since he often interprets it to suit himself or will rewrite it if necessary. Actually, I don't know anyone, fundamentalist or liberal, who doesn't do that. We all have our own interpretations. We also have our favorite passages, and if we are honest we will admit that even though the Bible is the most important book of our faith, much of it is dull and irrelevant to this century.

Baptists believe that every person has the right to interpret scripture for himself or herself, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Unfortunately, many Baptists today are dismantling some of our historic principles. It began to happen a few years ago when a fundamentalist majority in the Southern Baptist Convention took control and insisted upon the inerrancy of the scriptures. By their interpretation of scripture, women cannot be pastors, and professors who do not ascribe to scriptural inerrancy cannot teach in seminaries. Homosexuality and abortion have risen to the top as major sins. Southern Baptists split, with about 2000 churches pulling away to form another group, called Cooperative Baptist Fellowship.

Concurrent with this rift among Southern Baptists has come the beginning of one among American Baptists. A fundamentalist group called American Baptist Evangelicals has as its agenda getting rid of all the thirty churches that are Welcoming and Affirming, meaning those who accept gays and lesbians into the pews and pulpits of their churches. They have succeeded in disfellowshiping one church in Ohio and four in Northern California and have recently sought to get rid of the two in Seattle--University Baptist and Seattle First Baptist. At a regional meeting in Spokane two weeks ago this effort failed because it did not have a two-thirds majority. They expect to try again at the next regional biannual meeting and could likely succeed.

So if I appear this morning a bit bruised or aggressive, it's probably because I am. My mother always told me not to go to places where I was not invited. I do not wish to give up the denomination that I chose as my own when I was 15 years old, but if the churches in this region eventually decide they don't want me or my church, l suspect we can live and thrive without them.

What does this have to do with the Bible? Everything. Fundamentalists believe they are acting in the name of biblical authority. That's why the Center for Progressive Christianity has appeared on my horizon at such a propitious moment. I am grateful to be in a safe place where I can speak from my heart and not worry about being stoned or "dissed," as common parlance suggests.

l have been in search for meaning ever since I realized nearly thirty years ago that the only brand of certainty l could accept had to emerge from me and not from some ecclesiastical edict. My journey led me back to the message of the real Jesus, which I think is too radical and challenging for a lot of Christians to embrace. It made me redefine scripture as a means of supporting human rights and freedoms rather than as an excuse for denying them, as fundamentals have done.

Rather than spending time today on a particular lesson from one passage in the Bible, I would like us to follow the theme of this conference, "On the Road," and look at a road that runs throughout the entire Bible. I believe this road, if followed faithfully, will lead to the heart of a living, loving God, who in turn leads us into the hearts of all people and all creation. While we may start our journey on that road as a member of a particular religion or denomination, in the end our destiny is to be universalists in the same way God is.

I am indebted to a number of writers and thinkers, with particular gratitude to Bishop John Spong for rescuing the Bible from fundamentalism, to Bruce Bawer for stealing Jesus back from the fundamentalists, and to a significant number of women theologians who have rescued the Bible from a purely male interpretation. As for early influences, probably no one has directed my thinking more than Walter Rauschenbusch, a Baptist minister who was born in 1861 in upstate New York, and whose emphasis on the social gospel and the church of Love rather than the Church of Law spoke to me in seminary in a way that changed my thinking forever.

If we get to the end of the Bible and still think we can get away with rejecting and excluding anyone, we have taken a wrong turn somewhere on that road. When we close the Bible we are left with an all-loving God who longs to welcome all people, whatever race, gender or orientation, a God to whom everyone is precious and who has placed in every life a sacred and unbeatable purpose.

We must remember we don't know much about how the Bible came to be written, but most scholars believe that almost nothing was written until years after the events had taken place. It is believed that during the early years of the reign of Solomon in Jerusalem (960-920 B.C.E.) an unknown person took pen in hand and began to write the story of how a Jewish nation came into being. This writer began his story by describing a road that leads out of a mythical place called the Garden of Eden when the residents of that garden are banished from their idyllic paradise because they knew too much. "God said, 'Behold, they (Adam and Eve) have become like one of us, knowing good and evil, and now, lest they put forth their hands and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live forever'--therefore God sent them forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from which they were taken." (Genesis 3:22-23)

The road led Adam and Eve from a fairy tale existence into the world of real life, where they had to toil hard just to exist, watch one of their sons murder his brother, and experience the terrible pain of what it means to be human. "At that time humans began to call upon the name of God." (Genesis 4:26) Real life had taught them they could not make it on their own.

The next place we pick up the road is from a place called Ur of the Chaldees where a man and woman named Abraham and Sarah were called to journey to a foreign land and there to build a great nation. The patriarchs, or ancestral fathers of Israel, moved about in the hill country of Canaan, with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob succeeding one another. Eventually, during a time of famine, Jacob's family migrated to Egypt. There, after enjoying initial favor, they were subjected to forced labor by the Egyptian pharaoh.

Now the road comes to a halt for a time. But under the leadership of Moses (about 1300 B.C.E.) They escaped into the desert, where they were forged into a community with a single religious alliance. The road that they followed out of Egypt, through the wilderness and back into Canaan, a land which they claimed as their own under the leadership of Joshua, was a road of almost ceaseless warfare. But finally Canaan became an Israelite empire, ruled first by Saul, then David and then Solomon.

Upon the death of Solomon the road split when the empire divided into two kingdoms. This was the beginning of another disaster, as the kingdoms were drawn into the power struggles of the Near East. The Northern Kingdom fell under the aggression of Assyria (721 B.C.E.) And the Southern Kingdom fell victim to the Babylonians, who wrested the world rule from the Assyrians. In 587 Jerusalem fell to the Babylonians and the people were carried away into captivity. But under the benevolent rule of Persia, the exiles were finally permitted to return to their homeland where they rebuilt Jerusalem and resumed their way of life. They were now back on the road that their ancestors had taken many years before.

Yet the road was still not a peaceful one. Palestine, as the country was then known, was more than two centuries under Persian rule, then fell under Greek control, at which point the Hebrew scriptures break off. There was a brief period of Jewish independence, but shortly it was eclipsed by Rome, the next world empire.

From a secular viewpoint the history of Israel is no more unusual or courageous than the story of other nations in the ancient East. But this road we have been following does not purport to be simply a road leading through a secular history or culture. This is a road that offers a disclosure of God's activity in the midst of the events that take place. God is somehow working out a divine purpose in the career of the nation Israel. For this reason, the road is of great significance to all of us, for it is a road that tells us what God has done, is doing, and will do, not only for one nation, but for all nations and for each of us individually.

The exodus from Egypt was the decisive event, the great watershed of Israel's history. Today Jewish people understand their vocation and destiny in the light of this revealing event which made them a people and became their undying memory. The prophets that spoke before, during and after the exile, were voices that reminded the people that they were still on a road designed by God, described so eloquently by the prophet Isaiah: "God makes smooth the road of the righteous. In the path of your judgments, O God, we wait for you." (Is. 26:8)

Isaiah described the future of Israel as a highway that would be called the Holy Way (Isaiah 35:8ff.) "No lion shall be there, nor shall any ravenous beast come upon it; they shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there, and the ransomed of the Lord shall return with singing and everlasting joy."

While the prophet was talking of a future after the exile, the words took on a timeless meaning of a peaceable kingdom when all the nations would follow the road that led to the mountain of God, where the creation would dwell in peace.

Now comes the decisive event for the Christian. It was in the period of Roman oppression that a child named Jesus was born to a poor Jewish couple, and the road, which had been buried by layers of war and oppression, was uncovered again. For a very short time, no more than three years, the road was defined by the journey and the teachings of this Jesus who grew up to be an itinerant evangelist and preacher. His message was a direct affront to the religionists of his time, for he spoke simply of God being available to everyone and of demanding only one thing, that people love God and one another as God loves them.

Jesus' message was enough of a threat to the religious and political establishments that it was decided to silence him. The road that he had followed through the winding hills and valleys of Galilee now led up a hill outside the city of Jerusalem, where Jesus was put to death on a cross.

Marcus Borg, whose writings on Jesus have been helpful to me, says that Jesus was not simply a victim. He was killed because he sought, in the name and power of the Spirit, to transform his culture. He issued a call for a relationship with God that would lead to a new political system. For this he gave his life, even though death was not his primary intention. It was his call to change culture and uplift human life, says Borg, that caused his death.

Does the road stop at the cross? I think this is the question that we struggle with today. Today researchers Biblical scholars, theologians and lay people are arguing over who Jesus was and what his agenda was. The popular image of Jesus was that he was the Holy Son of God (identity) who came to die for the sins of the world (purpose) and to proclaim himself as the Messiah or Savior (mission). But if you take a more historical approach to his life, as have numerous writers today, that image disappears.

The new image that emerges is that Jesus' message was not about himself; he did not come to die for our sins, nor did he try to get people to believe in him. His message was primarily about God, not himself, and his purpose was to address a crisis in first-century Judaism and to steer religion back onto the road that would lead to peace, justice and freedom for all the nations of the earth.

Jesus was deeply committed to the marginalized and disenfranchised people of his society. This, to me, is the most compelling piece of evidence we have about his life. The strongest indictment brought against him by the religious leaders was that he ate with publicans and sinners. He touched the wrong people, associated with those who were ritualistically unclean, and crossed all the boundaries of exclusion that the religious system of his time had set up. He took to heart the ancient commandment of his faith, that the stranger was to be embraced and welcomed into fellowship, that no one was to be left out or excluded in any way or at any time. For Jesus, religion was hollow if it did not welcome and embrace the stranger, as commanded by his own Jewish faith.

The road that leads through the Bible, in my opinion, must lead to that same conclusion, and where it fails to do that, it fails to show the will of God. To me the current issue of whether gays and lesbians should be welcomed into the church is non-debatable. Of course they should! The Bible teaches that God loves the world and all its people; the most serious offense we can commit is to turn our backs on any one of God's children.

That's why Jesus and the gospel were so radical. They cut through the social, political and economic systems that existed and which were oppressive and demanded that those who were to be followers on the road must live in a totally different way. The emphasis of Jesus upon inclusion and egalitarianism threatened the politics of holy separation. His consciousness collided with the consciousness of his day. The church came into being not just for the purpose of worship, teaching or fellowship. The church came into being to transform the world and all its systems.

The cross, therefore, invites us to participate not only in our own salvation but in the salvation of all creation. It symbolizes a turning point in the road of spiritual journey, which began so many thousands of yeas ago but which has led us to this present time in history. The debate over who's in and who's out, who's right and who's wrong, was settled long ago. We don't need to be fighting that any longer. We're all in and in a true sense, we're all right, given our life situation.

John Dominic Crossan reminds us that Jesus did not say, "I bring the kingdom." Rather he said it is already here. No one has a monopoly on it, not even Jesus. He announced that it is permanently available to anyone and everyone, everywhere and anytime. This, says Crossan, means that Jesus is announcing that the kingdom is unbrokered. "You don't need the religious establishment; you don't even need me. The kingdom is in your midst (within you)."

Jacob Needleman in his book "Lost Christianity," suggests that perhaps the part of Christianity which has been lost is a view of an absolutely equitable world. Perhaps this is why we debate and fight over who is in and who is not. What Jesus claimed seems totally implausible, so we alter it to suit our own demands.

In all the arguments for Biblical authority that I have heard lately, I do not recall hearing one reference to the Sermon on the Mount. Rather the texts come from the Holiness Code in the Hebrew scriptures or from some of Paul's letters to the early Christians. Did Paul derail the movement? Did he create a side road that led away from the main purpose and emphasis of Jesus?

The truth is we have a Gospel according to Jesus and a Gospel according to Paul. The attitudes that shaped Paul's writing have long ago been abandoned; whereas the attitudes that characterized the teachings of Jesus seem to be timeless. Paul cannot be taken literally. He did not write the Word of God; he wrote the words of Paul.

Several scholars believe Paul was a rigidly controlled, repressed gay man who felt tremendous guilt, shame and self-loathing. His religious tradition would clearly regard gay males as evil and depraved. If he was gay, he lived under a death sentence, for by the Law of his day he stood condemned. Yet, as Bishop Spong points out, if it was a gay male who taught the Christian church what the love of God means, who defined grace for all people; and who, tortured and rejected as he must have felt, came to understand what resurrection means as God's vindicating act, then in a sense we do owe him a debt of gratitude. It's just too bad it has taken him 2000 years to "come out."

I know some people would think it scandalous to even suggest such a thing, but is that not how the God of the Bible seems to work? Perhaps Paul did create a fork in the road which took the church off in a direction slightly askew to the direction Jesus had intended. He was not the only one who did that. Augustine certainly assisted in creating a side road with his doctrine of original sin, as have many theologians, scholars and preachers of the past. There is no point in blaming anyone. The call is to get back on the road which God has prepared and to continue our journey in the direction of freedom, love and justice for everyone.

Howard Thurman talked about the failure of the church to be a home for all people, because it has always been on the side of the strong and powerful and against the weak and oppressed. This, despite the fact that Jesus was born to poor Jewish parents, a minority group under Roman rule. Thurman was convinced that Christians have not correctly understood nor faithfully followed the church's central figure, Jesus.

Churches and denominations, said Thurman, were established out of an ethos of exclusion: excluding those who do not believe specific dogma and excluding those who believe the accepted dogma but are of a particular socio-economic status or orientation.

As long as the church operates on the principle of exclusion, it forfeits the opportunity to be the trustee of an experience that takes us to God. The essence of God is love, but the excluding nature of many churches is antithetical to the nature of God. If the church is to be the Church, then it must honor the tradition of universalism. God is always searching for a witness through which that principle can find expression.

As we close this study of the road that runs through the Bible, I want to call your attention to this statement from Jesus, "I am the Way (Road), the Truth, and the Life; no one comes to the Father except by me." (John 14:7)

I think no single statement in the Bible has caused such discussion and controversy as this statement that Jesus gave to Thomas. The common assumption by most Christians is that Jesus was here making a defense of his own unique position in the scheme of salvation, and was saying that literally no one can come to God except through him. This may be good news to the Christian, but it is scant comfort for the Jew, the Moslem, the Hindu, or anyone else who does not accept the unique position of Jesus Christ in relation to God.

I am a Christian, although perhaps an unconventional one. I believe the life of Jesus offers me a way to live and to serve God, and I am trying as best I know to follow him. But Jesus never wanted to be worshiped. He wanted people to find the same truth he had found, and he held out to them a way by which they might do that. To Jesus, God was not just an object of worship, but a Presence dwelling in us, a force surrounding us, a Principle by which we live. Anyone who catches this concept will be caught up in a new consciousness that will change life. He or she will never be the same again.

Perhaps what Jesus meant was that no one can come to this concept of God within you as your heavenly parent except through the way of consciousness that he had shown. Perhaps what he was really saying was this: "You are your own way to God." Only you can open your heart to God. The road to God is found by carefully attending to the way within, by attending to those moments when a new feeling breaks through or a new idea emerges. Each of us is our own way. The Buddhists say to trust the wisdom that rises up within you. It is another way of saying, you are your way.

I believe God wants to say to us today, "Bill, Mary, Jim, Helen, I want you to trust your deepest intuitions. You are not alone and you never will be. You have not lost your way. You are your way."

The church is at another crossroads today. Mainline denominations are losing statistically and numerically. Yet spiritual hunger has never been greater. The road that has led from the cross of Christ has suffered many detours and reroutings over the last two thousand years, but it has never truly been lost. Always there have been those faithful folk who caught the vision of a gospel that offered good news to all people and who have followed it steadily and earnestly. Often in the minority and sometimes persecuted, they have nevertheless persevered in keeping alive the truth of God's all-embracing, universal love. Dare we believe that we who are here today are part of that minority movement, and that God is calling us to transform history with the same message of inclusive and universal love that built the road in the beginning?

Reimagining Ecumenism for the 21st Century

One of the questions we may rightly ask at the beginning of a new century is what is ahead for ecumenism and the ecumenical movement.

What is the balance sheet in this year 2000?

We are reaping the results of the dramatic changes that took place in 1989 with the end of the cold war and East-West rivalry. We experience the widespread dominance of the market economy and the western (i.e. American) political system. The far reaching consequences of these changes for our churches and society are not yet fully understood. Globalization is not a new phenomenon, but it is now increasingly ordering our lives. Where do we go now? Globalization breeds strong central authority in the economy, business, politics, communication, and strengthens those forces that make the rich richer and the poor poorer: free trade, International Monetary Fund, World Trade Organization, multinational business, etc. Though globalization has the potential to enrich us with cultural diversity, it also can impoverish us with sameness. Any similar trends affecting church or religious life would indeed be a threat to ecumenism in the 21st century.

The ecumenical enthusiasm of the 50s and 60s has greatly diminished. Many church people feel that there are few essential differences between various Protestant churches, and they easily change denominations. What has become of the vision of Christian unity? Is it still valid?

I was one of those captivated as a college student by the ecumenical movement. It struck me as the most challenging and prophetic direction for the church I had yet encountered. I saw hope in the vision of unity which would counteract — and eventually eliminate — the tragic divisions of the church. From then on my life has been devoted to following that dream.

In 1960 I was in Grace Cathedral, San Francisco, when Eugene Carson Blake, then Stated Clerk of the Presbyterian Church, made a dramatic proposal that four denominations join together to form a united church that would be truly reformed and truly catholic. As an enthusiastic ecumenist, I considered this an inspired and bold initiative for the ecumenical movement. The Consultation on Church Union (COCU) was formed to implement the vision of Blake’s proposal.

Forty years later, COCU now has nine member communions. A series of proposals and agreements has brought the participating denominations closer together, but they are still separate. The goal is no longer an institutional merger but a committed relationship of full communion among the participating churches in 2002, with the name Churches Uniting in Christ. What happened in these 40 years? Why has the goal changed? Is this positive or negative for the ecumenical movement?

I would propose that COCU’s experience points to the direction that ecumenism should follow. It may help us envision what Christian unity could look like in the 21st century. Structural merger might well have created an unworkable institution (as some may think denominational institutions are already). COCU could have followed the example of banks, media and multinational corporations, gathering more and more power and authority. We already experience the result — bank mergers, the loss of neighborhood stores and independent merchants, etc. "Visible unity" by merger may be appropriate in some cases but it is not the solution for the 21st century.

What has happened during these 40 years?

Some churches discovered that they were close enough to merge or enter into agreements of full communion and have done so, thus changing the ecumenical landscape. Among the "mainline" Protestant/Anglican churches we may speak of de facto communion, a dramatic ecumenical development, but it is not enough.

In the 60s the membership of the Orthodox Churches in the World Council of Churches increased to include all of them and, following the second Vatican Council, the Roman Catholic Church became an active participant in the ecumenical movement. Both developments brought more diversity in ecumenical relations. Bilateral theological dialogues were formed between these and Protestant churches to promote unity. Many differences between the churches were clarified, but issues on which the churches disagreed were highlighted, thus strengthening self-conscious confessional identities. Through meetings and dialogue many churches have come to understand each other and accept each other as brothers and sisters in Christ. They have developed friendships, pulpit exchanges, unofficial Catholic gestures to share the Eucharist, and Protestant-Catholic marriage ceremonies. Real progress toward overcoming serious differences, however, has been minimal.

With the exception of humanitarian relief, church people now tend to concentrate on local issues, showing less interest in national and international concerns and institutional structures, which are seen as overpowering and self-perpetuating. Concerned with what affects their daily lives in contextual situations, they may not see the connection of local issues to "ecumenical" issues. Denominational and institutional based ecumenism reflects 20th century contexts and structures, which many believe to be out of date.

Today, for many local people community outreach and social witness, often crossing church or faith lines, is where the action is. In our pluralist society many find interfaith relations and action (food pantries, work for housing, youth programs, etc.) more urgent and productive than interchurch relations. Popular response and attitudes to both interreligious and interchurch activities merge with "ecumenical" concepts without distinction, and often with confusion.

Heightened concern for recognition of racial, religious and ethnic diversity in society may overshadow presumed goals of "Christian unity". Today social and ethical issues, such as racism, poverty, hunger, ecology, education, sexuality, seem to many people to be more important than "unity". Contextual theologies, justice causes, the voices of women and of the global South enrich, but also challenge, traditional theological thinking and styles.

The ecumenical movement has changed.

Churches clearly have priorities different from those of 40 years ago, as noted above. They see themselves in a different light and interpret their identities with different understandings. We need to recognize that the separated communions all have their own "particularities", which they consider essential to their identity and which could be put at risk by globalized agreements. In the recent COCU process we have seen the "obstacles" resulting from the Presbyterian insistence on elders and the Episcopal insistence on bishops.

Some of these particularities, but probably not all, should be valued and not lost: for example the silence of the Quakers, Black preaching styles, Mystery in Orthodoxy, Catholic spirituality, diverse liturgical styles, and more. If we can understand, appreciate, learn from and accept the particularities of each other as Christians and Churches, we will be able to rejoice in our diversity and in society’s plurality.

However, neutral diversity is not enough. Active and positive inclusivity in which we share diverse thinking and experiences with our neighbors of other churches and other faiths is necessary. As interchurch dialogue and activities fade into the background, we have much to learn from interfaith relations and action. This could counteract pressure to think alike or to homogenize our beliefs.

In the first century of the church independent local churches which were scattered around the Mediterranean communicated with one another as best they could by ship, runner, word of mouth — without a post office or email! Instead of a central authority, there was conciliarity with leadership dispersed in local churches. Today we would call it a network. Constantinian power resulted in imperial globalization. The Church followed suit and the authority of hierarchy replaced networking. We can see another strong example of ecclesiastical globalization in later developments in Rome.

Today there may be a parallel in the Internet which exists without central management and only as a network. It suggests that maintaining healthy diversity among particular churches means decentralization and communication at the local level, but in global terms with global contacts. The same may well be true for interfaith and interreligious relations. Networking may already be replacing hierarchy.

What will be the ecumenical task in this century for those who seek "unity"?

Ecumenism is suffering from what has happened to institutional ecumenism — or what has not happened. If we are unable to change, the movement will stagnate.

We must reimagine Blake’s 1960 vision for this new century. The ecumenical task is to promote networking among the particular churches, cross-fertilizing their particularities. It is to create "open space", opening doors, enlarging the table, enabling churches and faiths to meet, to have dialogue and to learn from one another, to share their diversity, to become more inclusive, and to strive for justice and peace, for the integrity of all creation and for the unity of all humanity.

Creative ideas and provocative thinking are showing us that the movement is moving. Existing institutions must not be static. The World Council of Churches and the National Council of Churches (USA) are wrestling with "open space" as they seek new forms of relating to churches now outside their memberships.

The plurality of religions and faiths in today’s society is a major challenge and opportunity for Christians and Churches. Ecumenism requires that this challenge be engaged theologically and in practice.

Diverse theological approaches and styles give new meaning to the universality of ecumenical goals and vision. Nevertheless, the new challenge of globalization demands our renewed commitment and prayerful energy.

Yet, when I review the dramatic changes that have taken place in the past 50 years, I do not despair, but hope and pray for comparable progress to come.

A revised vision today points the way: to work and pray for the "reconciliation of particularities" which protect our diversity and for a reimagining of "visible unity", not theological uniformity, not structural mergers, but diversity for the enrichment of one another, not singing in unison but in harmony, analogous to different instruments playing the ecumenical symphony.

 

 

Religion and Politics

For those of you who were a little confused as to whether to come to this session or go down to something else, "prophetic voices" is something I have on my outline. This topic would take at least eight or nine hours to cover, and I have twenty minutes, so we'll try to hit the high points.

What I’d like to do first is take a little historical excursion, which very often gets lost in the heat of the moment, about how you deal with the religious right in all this. That is, to look very briefly at the connection between religion and politics historically. I had one history professor who argued that after Constantine’s conversion the world went to hell in a hand basket and has never recovered. I would argue that a connection between politics and religion goes back further than Constantine. One can argue that the gospel message, when looked at in a context of the first century theologians, was very much a political document as well as a religious and social one. I’m going to assume that you have all had your appropriate courses on the history of the Roman Empire. Palestine was a colonial area. It was an area that was under political control of Rome. And any non-status-quo message was considered as potentially dangerous.

To give Constantine his due from the stand point of the church, Constantine’s conversion constitutes a change in the social order of the church, going from the outs and the have-nots to the ins and the haves, at least in a structural sense. The level of politics is still intense. It has to do with the size of the group you’re in.

Jumping ahead a million events or so, only in recent times in terms of history, do we have the distinct split between "politics" and "religion". Quite frankly, what we have come to know in this county as separation of church and state actually came as a reaction to religious wars through the reformation period. It is embodied in the treaty of Versailles where state and religion are split for the first time in an official legal document. That is just a very brief history.

The issue, however, that doesn’t get addressed often enough is: What is politics? I'm not going to spend a whole lot of time on a definition basis, but we have to ask ourselves a question: When we say religion and politics, what is politics?

I’m going to use two quotes. One is from David Easton, who argued that "politics is the authoritative allocation of value." When we look at that idea for a moment, we’ll decide which of those factors is the most important — the authority or the value. The second one is from Ted Lowi, who is a little bit more earthy in his phrasing. He defines politics as "who gets what of what there is to get." They both think more or less the same thing, but in each case, politics is a system used to allocate those things which are important to society — whether it’s important in economic terms, or whether it’s important in social terms, or whether it’s important in cultural terms.

Given a faith community that argues that there are essential qualities, essential aspects for human behavior that need to be looked at, a faith group that is not involved in politics is the exception rather than the rule. So any group needs to address these political issues. (We can talk about internal Church politics at some other time, but that would take a whole other conference. Let me stay with the externals.)

If we take the two presumptions that I've made so far — one that the church has always been involved in politics, and second, that there is nothing inherently wrong with that — we then have to ask the current question: How do people of the progressive Christian movement deal with the very firm political reality that when you mention religion and politics in the U.S. you are talking about the religious right? What are we in fact talking about? We are talking about two or three different things. Leaving the points of the agenda alone and making a process argument for a moment, I must admit that the religious right has been very successful, but the question is: How have they been successful?

The first aspect of the religious right is that mechanically in terms of delivering their message, they are sophisticated, they are powerful in terms of economic power, and over a decade or so they have developed, a very slick organization. Some people are on opposite sides of the issue would criticize them. I will not. They have done a very good job of articulating their interests and of identifying people who will support those interests, both in terms of dollars and of people to contact members of Congress. Those techniques are value neutral per se.

There are some aspects of their approach that I don’t think the progressive movement can adopt. For example, one of the reasons that their direct mail campaigns have worked is that they have taken very complex problems and given them very simple solutions, the moral equivalent of a printed sound byte. That just doesn’t work for a number of issues. They have also adopted the symbols of Christianity as the symbols of their movement. So family values get associated with the religious right. What are family values? They’re what they say they are.

I was reading in the local paper just this morning that the Southern Baptists have come out with a boycott against Disney because of Disney’s position against family values. Translated: Disney has extended medical coverage to the domestic partners of their employees. To the Southern Baptists this is against family values. When a Disney employee was interviewed, he asked why anyone would deny extending medical benefits to as many people as possible. So one the questions for us to look at is how we begin getting back the agenda and getting back those symbols, which will not necessarily be associated exclusively with our position but not be associated exclusively with opposing views, either.

Then there is the issue of technology and how the religious right has been successful. The religious right has been extremely successful in the application of modern technology, i.e., use of various electronic media, use of computer networking, use of educational materials based on current research in terms of educational theory. It is not just having an infinite number of fax machines, which they have as well. They also have put as much effort into networking the local groups as they have in attempting to influence general public awareness. Quite frankly, this conference is probably part of building our position with the same techniques.

The other point in terms of the connection between politics and religion is that of the prophetic voice. We teach people how to say something, but if we have nothing say, then we might as well go for coffee. How do you begin articulating that prophetic voice? What is it about the theology that you support which speaks to the society of which you are a member? How do you begin dealing with certain issues in terms of the political reality of the world? Let me enumerate a few.

Look at the crisis in medical care. We are making societal judgments every day in terms of the value of medical care. No group is articulating the issues of conscience associated with that crisis: whether it is mothers being discharged twelve hours after a vaginal delivery, or most people being handled by unlicenced care givers, or hospital downsizing, or any number of other issues. If you have a theology that argues for the value of community and argues that people are entitled to certain things, there is an issue that you might want to look at. The issue of child welfare and abuse is not one that has been articulated. A number of people have come out with individual statements, but the value of group effort in terms of that articulation is what’s missing in many of these issues. Part of the whole political process is for the decision-maker — whether it be a local legislator, a congressman, a senator — to represent a viable segment of society.

Over the last fifteen years, you have represented a politically endangered species. From 1980 on, the political reality is that anyone who would be classed "liberal", small l or large L, has been a zoo exhibit. They have all but disappeared. There are a number of us here, but liberals have basically disappeared. They disappeared by default in terms of politics because they did not articulate their core values and how they relate to the political issues of the time. We simply have centered ourselves in the field and let the religious right define what we are in addition to what they are, and we are beyond the pale. Even though I have said we/they about six times, I am not doing a we/they kind of orientation. One of the core values in the classic small l, liberalism is that all groups should have the opportunity and should be encouraged to articulate their interests. Part of what that means for a small l liberal is the articulation must be made by the group and not imposed on the group by someone else, which is the key factor in all this. I would not presuppose to tell the Jerry Falwells of this world how to define themselves, but at the same time, I must insist on my right to define myself and like-minded people. It was not defeat on issues, it was not even defeat in the polls, that made the "religious left", which is what it is now being called, a term I don’t like any more than I like some of the others. We allowed ourselves to be defined by the groups that felt our positions were wrong. I would suggest to you — given just normal logic, normal reason — that if you let that happen, you are doomed. In one sense, what has happened is not just the success of the religious right but our failure to see the value of the connection between politics and religion.

How does one begin that interest in articulation? And how do you begin balancing those connections? Personally, I come from a relational theology, which argues that if you take the two great commandments of loving God and loving neighbor, there is a core value for dealing with issues in society, whether those are issues inclusiveness, issues of protecting the unprotected, issues of dealing with the potential abuse of power situations. If our interests are articulated along those dimensions, then you will find a certain pattern emerging in the political agenda of the progressive movement. When the issues are defined in terms of inclusivity or exclusivity, this movement should be on the inclusive side. If issues are framed in terms of hierarchy versus egalitarianism, egalitarianism should prevail. And if issues are understood as wanting societal protection versus exploitation, we must stand up for those people in society who cannot defend themselves. They are worthy of societal protection.

Those are not specific letter-writing campaigns, those are not specific issue positions, but those are the values that come out of relational theology, values that can be articulated, values that can be translated into a specific agenda for dealing with political issues. But first, we have to get over the hump that is the first amendment of the United States Constitution. I’ve heard parishioners ask, "How can we take a political position if there is separation of church and state?" I remind them that historically the reason the first amendment was passed is not because the founders of the country didn’t want to establish a religion but because they couldn’t figure out which religion to establish. I am not for the establishment of religion. I am, however, for the notion that the core of our values comes from our faith and that politics must deal with how those values are respected. If we are not in the political discussion, we know that the values that are most important to us are likely to be for naught.

After Great Pain: Finding a Way Out

Struggle is a very private thing. It happens in the very depths of our souls. It comes with the loss of what we have considered so significant that we cannot abide the thought of life without it. Other people commiserate, of course, as they watch us struggle with the pain of losing, the meaning of endings, the shock of great change, the emptiness of the present. But they cannot really share our pain because what we have lost, however significant to us, cannot be totally understood, respected or revered by them. What we lose is ours and ours alone: our dream, our hope, our expectation, our property, our identity. All private. All personal. All uniquely and singularly ours. Our friends look on caringly, of course, but there’s little else they can do. They advise, but they cannot possibly know the cost of every step we take. It is not their arms that are heavy, not their legs that have gone to lead, not their "knees that are weak" (Psalm 109).

They talk to us about going on but they do not understand that the thought of going on is unimportant to us now. If anything, it is what we least want to do; indeed, it seems impossible. And, as far as we are concerned, it is certainly not desirable any more. Go on for what reason? Those others who stand at the edges of our lives at such times cannot realize the sense of deep, deep isolation that comes when life as we have known it has been suddenly extinguished.

There is no one who can take the pain away because the pain cannot be taken away. There is no one there to ease it because it simply cannot be eased.

Desperate to help, people tell us how insignificant the thing was that we staked our lives upon. "It doesn’t matter," they say. "You’ll have another one." As in child or house or job or lover or dream. "It isn’t worth it," they tell us. Or, at their best, they remind us that "time will heal the pain," and that we "will learn to live with" the loss. But, oh, how wrong they are! I gave my life to it. Surely my life was worth something. "This is unjust," they agree, but injustice happens nevertheless. No one changes it. No one confronts it. No one does a thing but commiserate, And that only for a while, In the end, we are alone. Alone with the struggle. Alone with the violence, the emptiness, the rage within. "And Jacob was left alone," the biblical story tells us. Indeed.

I worked with a woman who had been a victim of incest in her early grade-school years. An older brother, home from seminary, began to molest her when she was eight years old. Old enough to have the beginnings of a conscience, not old enough to know sin from act. He was the apple of his Catholic mother’s eye. So no help there. He was the paragon of family virtue, but he was doing to her what she had been told was mortal to her soul. And so time after time she feared more for her eternal salvation than she did for her present preservation.

She would gladly have died to stop the sin but she could not tell a mother who, she was sure, would have blamed her for lying about him, not him for abusing her.

This woman was 70 years old before she told me about it and sobbed in my office while she did. All her life, she said she had been afraid that everyone who passed her in the hall could see what she had done. She had been doing angry penance all her life for something that was not her fault. All her life she had lived in isolation, wrestling with the writhing in her soul. All her life she had been in pain. All her life she had been alone in her agony.

I put my arms around her while she sobbed, but I never thought for a moment that there was anyway in the world that I could take away those years of lonely despair. We went on talking about it, of course. We worked for a sense of wholeness, a new perspective on the self, a feeling of internal, personal goodness. And the ongoing conversation, the support, the acceptance seemed to give her little bursts of well-being. But down deep, the wounds never really healed; the scars never went away.

Scientists have known for decades the effects of isolation, both physical and emotional. Infants denied physical contact die. People deprived of emotional support stand to slip into a reality of their own. They withdraw from the circle of people whose plastic smiles and good times and lack of caring they cannot abide. They begin to resent laughter, to be as wounded by others’ enjoyment as they are by the sufferings with which they are still dealing. After all, who has a right to laugh in the face of such hurt? They begin to trade in fantasy. They slip in and out of the memories that haunt them. One day they are gentle and communicative. The next day they are hostile and sour. Alone with what they cannot put down, they relive it and its shock and its wounds day after day.

Isolation is not simply a physical event that emits us off from sensory stimulation. Isolation also shrinks the psyche itself. It cages us round with bitterness. Cut off from the rest of the human race, we stand frozen in our tracks, left to mourn what was but is no more while the rest of the world goes on without us, oblivious, helpless and, as far as we can tell, uncaring. Some never sense the pain in us at all. Some see the hurt but have no balm to bring to it. Some diminish it or despise it or ignore it. It doesn’t quite matter which -- the effects are all the same. In the end, struggle is private.

But struggle is also public. When the foundations of our world begin to shake -- when relationships end, when long-held beliefs no longer satisfy, when our securities vanish -- our ability to deal with the remainder of our world begins to shudder too. Life-management crises in one area have a way of seeping over into other areas like a drop of ink in a gallon of water. One struggle colors everything.

Reality becomes blurred. We live in our losses, our pain, our memories, our lost hopes. We run or we lean. Most of all, like children burned on a stove or animals subjected to shock collars, we take no chances now on anything that might hurt us the same way again. We shun love, fear organizations, stop our work, burn our plans, avoid the very things we love most, keep our distance from whatever might tempt us to try again, to begin over, to trust.

But if isolation becomes one kind of refuge, dependence is another. Either we close people out of our lives or we become totally compliant, totally apathetic. We shut ourselves off from the rest of the world or we give ourselves over entirely to its excesses. Judgment fails us; social paralysis sets in. The drinking starts, the smoking begins, the all-night movies drown out the need for sleep and the memories that haunt us, the pain that taunts us in the darkness. We become disoriented and begin to call friends for directions about the smallest things in life: how to write a check, how to read a recipe, how to get the furnace fixed, what to have for dinner. Having lost one dimension of life, we allow people to direct us through the rest of it and so we give whatever little remains of our once-confident lives away. Where is the way out of this morass? Where is the end of the pain? Where is life when all of life has been destroyed?

The spiritual response is too often a simplistic one: either we abandon God or we blame God for abandoning us. "I beg you. tell me your name," Jacob pleads with the spirit with which he wrestles. But he gets no answer. Nor do we. We find no cause to cure us, no one to accuse, no way to respond. And, alone with ourselves, we like ourselves less and less every day.

Such junctures are dangerous times, both psychologically and spiritually. We are in the grip of a strange force to which we would be just as happy to surrender. We are caught in the vortex of an inner storm. Having lost the dream, we risk losing the balance in ourselves as well. We stand on the brink of losing the future as well as the past. And that is the temptation of struggle.

We find ourselves alone in a fragile world not of our own making, an unfriendly place where the sun no longer shines for us. What can possibly be the gift of such a state? It is the call out of isolation into independence. It is the grace of discovering that our lives are more than any one event and that we, not fate, are really what will determine what the rest of our lives will be like.

Vonetta Flowers, a young African-American track star from Alabama, failed to qualify for the Salt Lake City 2000 Summer Olympics. It was a devastating time for her; years of preparation were lost in a matter of seconds. The simple disappointment of missing the games, never mind the medals, was enough to break her heart and plunge her into depression. But instead of despairing, she tried out for the bobsled team. It was a sport she had never even seen, let alone attempted. Yet Flowers became the first black American to win a gold medal for bobsledding in the Winter Olympics.

Did she achieve her heart’s desire or not?

John Walsh, father of a young son kidnapped off his own street in a small rural community, channeled his sorrow and his rage into launching the first national organization for missing children. The government had never done it. Law enforcement agencies had not done it. But Walsh did it and because of him countless children have been returned safely to their homes.

Was his struggle worth it or not?

Lisa Beamer, mother of two small children and six months pregnant with the third, was widowed in the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center in September 2001. Her husband, Todd, led the effort to down the third of the attack planes over Pittsburgh before it could be used to bomb another government building. Several months after his death and before the birth of their third baby, Lisa Beamer began a charitable foundation in his name, the purpose of which is to help other families who find themselves left to cope with disaster with limited resources and heavy hearts.

Was isolation her response to struggle?

Struggle faces us with choices. Hard choices. "There can be no growth without resistance," the Chinese proverb teaches us. The thought compels. Struggle is a fact of life. What we struggle against, what we struggle for, what we struggle with all test and hone us. It is the resistance itself that seasons us. The great choice with which struggle confronts us, then, is not whether to accept it -- struggle comes unbidden. It doesn’t matter whether we accept it. The choice is whether to crumble under it or to brave it.

Struggle is an unsparing lesson but a necessary gift. It is not a gift which, at first sight, we want. With the coming of the Human Potential Movement in the 1960s, rigid self-discipline gave way to unrestrained emotional expression. The social norm of cerebral self-control and privacy was challenged by a new ethic of full disclosure. It was one excess following another. Having learned to be controlled to the extreme in the name of mental health and spiritual virtue, we were encouraged to be just as extreme in our display of emotions.

Strangers came together in weekly workshops to reveal to one another their most secret fantasies, their most shameful actions. They shouted one another down, gave way to inner angers a lifetime in developing, "let it all hang out." Satisfying the emotional demands of the moment, the gurus of the movement told us, is the measure of our humanity. It did not work.

Too often people withdrew from the encounters feeling more hurt, more rejected, more emotionally confused than ever. Now they knew intimacy but not love. Worse, now they were left with old wounds newly opened and not a clue about what to do with them in the future.

They had expressed their emotions, but they had not struggled with them. They had revealed their hurts, but they had not worked through them. They had exposed their agonies but had not put them down. They had lost control of themselves and gained nothing to put in its place. Feelings oozed out of people like oil, over everyone and everything they touched, but the pain remained and the soul stayed dry. There was clearly something missing. The expression of feelings was simply not enough to dispel suffering.

The notion that to suppress feelings is to distort human development ignored an entire stream of spiritual literature on holy indifference. The ancient Christian virtue of detachment became at least suspect, often anathema.

From Clement of Alexandria in the second century, to Meister Eckhart in the 13th, to Ignatius of Loyola in the 16th, the idea of spiritual indifference -- openness to the many manifestations of the will of God -- has been respected. There were many ways to live, not simply one, the spiritual theory taught, all of them good, some of them better than others from one moment to the next. The marrow of the spiritual life was determining which of life’s many possibilities were most suitable to the will of God in the present situation. The root of the exercise was "holy indifference," awareness of the multiple gifts of God and openness to all of them. This is a spirituality with enduring psychological value as well.

The isolation that marks any serious struggle is a call to recognize that life is full of gifts that come and go, come and go as we ourselves come and go through the many stages of living. Detachment from the idea that there is only one way for me to go through life joyfully is key. The pain of loss is a real and a present thing. It manacles my soul and breaks my heart, yes. But holy indifference -- detachment -- teaches me that there is no room for isolation, abandonment, death of the spirit when I lose one thing because I know that there is something else waiting for me in its place. If only I can allow myself to watch for it, to wait for it, to grasp it when it comes.

Designed to enable a person to regard all of life with an open mind and a willing heart, detachment -- holy indifference -- is the foundation of spiritual discernment. To discern is to choose between available options on the grounds that both are good but that one is more likely at this time to be preferable. It is the willingness to accept the idea that one option is more likely to result in growth at this time than the other, though both are good possibilities. Discernment and detachment are lifelines out of the pit of loss and the island of isolation to which it threatens to doom us.

Detachment teaches us to let go. Let go of unwavering answers. Let go of present achievements. Let go of life’s little hoards of trinkets. Let go of the now which is frozen in emotion for the sake of a future freed from old chains. It is the ability to see that there are many things of value in our lives, some of them more suited to one time than to another.

Discernment is based on the awareness that we cannot always have what we want, true, but also that there is enduring, sometimes hidden, always surprising spiritual value in what we do have. Discernment asks us to love many things for many different reasons and to choose what is the best of them for this instance.

The important mark of discernment is that it involves choice. It involves independence of judgment, the ability to maintain breadth of vision even in the midst of crisis, the awareness that we are not enslaved to our past. We can dream again. We can go on without leaning, without withering. We can summon up from within ourselves parts of ourselves that have yet to see the light of life. It means that despite the depth of our struggles, we must come out of our insulating isolation and live again or we shall have died, no matter how long we live.

Isolation erodes spiritual independence. In fact, it is dependence of the highest, most destructive order. Isolation blocks us from moving in the present because we are dependent on the past, trapped in the past. Or, it means that having fallen into isolation, we do not move newly into the present because we have chosen instead to be dependent on the world around us. We have chosen to be carried rather than to stand. We have chosen to give up on ourselves, to let other people carry us rather than to take care of’ ourselves. We deny or overlook or ignore the gift of independence, the place of detachment, in human development.

Isolation leaves us feeling cut off from the human race, aloof, withdrawn, at the mercy of the universe. Independence, on the other hand, emerges out of an awareness that there are other things to live for and we have within ourselves the ability to reach out and grasp them, if only we will.

Over the centuries, detachment lost its spiritual glow. Distorted by the excesses of extreme asceticism but at the same time, paradoxically, always regarded in its classical sense not as a way to deny the world but as the spiritual key to living in it more freely, detachment became the counterfeit coin of the happy life. It dampened feelings rather than sharpening them, its critics said -- and not without reason. Jansenism, with its emphasis on ascetic discipline, became popular among French Catholics in the 18th century. In the name of holiness, it suppressed emotions rather than listening to them. It rendered the world dour and made living an act of denial. In doing so it destroyed what is needed most in a time of struggle: the will to live because the world is bountiful. Detachment based on negation rather than an awareness of endless abundance is not a solution. At its healthiest, the human spirit is irrepressible and the human heart seeks hope, not desolation, however disguised dearth may be in the trappings of holiness.

But the truth remains: Nothing lasts. No single thing can consume our entire life’s meaning. No single thing can give us total satisfaction. Nothing is worth everything: neither past, nor present nor future. It isn’t true that the loss of any single thing will destroy us. Everything in life has some value and life is full of valuable things, things worth living for, things worth doing, things worth becoming, things worth loving again. It is only a matter of being detached enough from one thing to be open to everything else.

The essence of life is not to find the one thing that satisfies us but to realize that nothing can ever completely satisfy us.

Spirituality and Contemporary Culture – II

Thank you. It’s very nice, if you’re Joan Chittister, to have somebody applaud before you speak. It’s particularly nice because you don’t have a clue what’s going to happen afterwards. It was a wonderful introduction as only Mary Ellen (Kilsby) could or would do – scary as the devil. I sat there, and I thought two things. I tell a wonderful story about Harry Emerson Fosdick. You know that very renowned preacher? He got this fantastic warm and mellifluous introduction before some particular conference. They say Fosdick went to the podium, and he looked at the group for a minute, and he said, "You realize, of course, there’s not a word of truth in any of that. But Thank God for the rumor."

I happen to like particularly the great interfaith introduction about the rabbi and the priest who went to the prizefight together. When the little Jewish boy got into the ring, he jumped up and down, he flexed his muscles a little bit, and he went to the corner. Then the little Catholic kid got in the ring. He jumped up and down, he flexed his muscles, he made the sign of the cross, and he went to the corner. The rabbi looked at the priest and he says, "Is that gonna help him?" And the priest said, "Only if he can fight."

There’s no doubt that this is indeed a difficult weekend for me physically. I’m very grateful to you for making it possible. I simply could not for my own sake spiritually miss the opportunity to draw some spirituality from yours, even if I can’t take it all home with me. You are the hope that sustains me, and under no conditions do I agree to give you up.

I want you to know that the following comments and reflections are made from the perspective of several other pieces. One is about the famous guys who goes up in a small airplane with a parachute that, when the motor fails, does not open. So they say the guy is coming down, and as he’s coming down he sees a guy on a kitchen chair going up. So he yells over. He says, "Hey Buddy, you know anything about parachutes?" And he yells back, "No. Do you know anything about gas stoves?"

I’m going to talk this afternoon about the relationship between culture and spirituality. Anybody with a brain in their heads knows that to talk about culture, in this day and age, is one thing, but to talk about spirituality is even worse. To try to do both of them in one standing is not the smartest thing anybody can do. But I’m going to do it anyway, because I remember with Boethius that every age that is dying is simply another age coming to life, and with the Chinese poet, "If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there."

Somewhere there reads the following definition of an American: Americans are people who are born in the country where they work with great energy so they can live in the city, where they then work with even greater energy so that someday they can live in the country again. I don’t know if that definition is right or wrong, but I do know that it has a great deal to say, underneath, about the relationship between culture and spirituality, about what you do with what you are and why you do it.

Two pieces of religious literature indicate, to me at least, with special clarity this essential connectedness of spiritual maturity and cultural development.

The first one you know too well, from Exodus 3:18. On Horeb, the scripture tells us, the angel of Yahweh appeared to Moses in the shape of a flame of fire coming from the middle of a bush. There was the bush blazing, but it was not being burnt up. "I must go and look at this strange site," Moses said, "and see why the bush is not burnt." Now Yahweh saw Moses go forward to look, and Yahweh called to him from the middle of the bush. "Moses," he said, "come no nearer. Take off your shoes. For the place where you are is Holy ground." Then Yahweh said, "I have seen the miserable state of my people in Egypt. I have heard their appeal to be free. I am well aware of their sufferings. And I mean to deliver them. So I’m sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people up." Now that’s the only place in scripture where I’m sure God has an Irish sense of humor. I have a rotten problem, he’s saying. You go solve it. The message is a most dramatic one. Just at what would seem to be the moment of Moses’ total immersion in the mystical presence of God, God stops Moses where Moses is, to teach him that his holiness depends on finding holiness where he stands. And then by taking that energy to other people for their liberation, Moses learns that holiness is made of virtues, not visions. Moses learns that holiness depends on being for the other. Moses learns that holiness depends on being something greater than the self. Moses learns that holiness is being present to the presence, everywhere it is, and even where it seems it isn’t.

The second story of culture and spirituality comes from the tales of the Hasidim. This story tells us that there was an old rabbi of great wisdom whose fame had spread far beyond his own congregation to the villages and rabbis on the other side of the mountain. One day, suddenly, he died. So the young rabbis were bereft. Now they said, "What are we going to do when our people look to us for guidance? Without the old master where are we going to get the answers to the great questions of life?" They decided among themselves to pray and fast until the old man’s holiness and wisdom would be infused into one of them. And sure enough, one night in a dream, the old man appeared to one of the younger rabbis. "Master," the young teacher said, "it’s so good that you’ve returned to us. You see, with you gone, the people are now looking to us for answers to the great questions of life, and we’re still unsure. For instance, Master, they’re demanding to know on the other side of what account are the sins of youth?" And the old man said, "The sins of youth? Why, on the other side, the sins of youth are of no account whatsoever." And the young rabbi said, "On the other side, the sins of youth are of no account whatsoever? Then what has it all been about? On the other side, what sin is punished if not the sins of youth?" And the old man answered very slowly but very clearly, "On the other side, that sin which is punished with constant and unending severity is the sin of false piety."

The point is clear, isn’t it? Piety is cultural. Holiness depends on our choosing the pieties proper to the times. Now I am definitely not saying that there’s anything wrong with our past pieties. I would argue that past piety is the reason that most of us, starting with me, are even in this room this afternoon. It isn’t that past pieties were wrong. It’s that past pieties are past, that there is a present that calls for a piety applicable to the present. Culture and spirituality, in other words, are of a piece. They are the same thing. If you want to know your spirituality, ask yourself about your culture. As Moses and the old master both knew, the function of spirituality is not to protect us from our times. The function of spirituality is to enable us to leaven our times; to stretch our times, to bless our times, to break open our own times to the present will of God. And what does all that mean to us today? To spirituality? To ministering? To being a progressive Christian here, today; now?

If culture is the way people think and feel and behave as a people, and if spirituality is the way we live out the life and teachings of Jesus in this particular culture at this particular time, then the questions for thinkers, writers, theologians, and religious professionals must become: What cultural realities are challenging the Gospel now? And how can the Gospel best challenge the culture, if we, here and now, are really to be a holy people, a progressive people, Christians at all?

The history of spirituality identifies three basic responses to culture. If we go back through the strands of Christian history, we can find three streams converging as common responses to cultural periods of one age or another: (1) the intellectual, (2) the relational, and (3) the performative.

An intellectual spirituality the scholars define as a spiritual life that is creed-centered. People who are creed-centered are committed to a checklist of beliefs, and they’re committed to union with God somewhere else. They’re waiting to get to God. God is the brass ring – if they stay on the horse long enough. An intellectual spirituality, in other words, is very good at drawing denominational lines and maintaining orthodoxy. These are the people who can tell you at any minute of a 24-hour day who is in and who is out. They’re the heretic hunters of every denomination. And they are committed spiritually to having personal, mystical experiences. The intellectualist wants to stay and contemplate the "burning bush". They want to draw it to size, and define its properties, and dogmatize its meaning, and describe the distance at which presence to or from it becomes a venial or a mortal sin.

The second stream of spirituality in the Christian tradition is relational spirituality. Relational spirituality is committed to the development of human bonded-ness, of community as the preeminent model of the Christian life. So the relationist talks a lot about love, and the relationist is willing to stay in Egypt if necessary, bush or no bush, to keep the slaves company in their pain. The relationist comforts the oppressed, sits down and reads Calvin, does a bit of Luther, says a novena, and sells a rosary or two (nothing wrong with a little business on the side if you’re relational). They comfort the oppressed, but they do very little to change the oppression.

Finally, the third stream of spirituality in the grand history or sweep of spirituality is performative spirituality. It’s very action-centered. Performers in the spiritual life pray every day, "thy kingdom come, thy will be done," and then they do something to bring it. Performers are people who know that the Word is incomplete until it has become transforming action. Performers would prefer to reform Egypt by carrying the lousy bush back there, to create a bright new world in the shell of the old, shine it up, refurbish it a bit, shape it up, and prod it on.

All those spiritualities are real, and all of them were historically prominent in one period or another. The question for us is, what’s our cultural situation now? And which type of spirituality is then most needed? And how do we build it? And what does that have to do with the Christian life today, with being a progressive Christian today – when for the first time in polling history the military now supercedes the Church as "the most trusted institution"? According to the 4/28/99 USA Today publication of the Harris Poll on the subject, 55% of those respondents said they have a great deal of confidence in military leadership, but only 25% of those respondents have as much confidence in leaders of the church.

Like Moses, let’s look briefly at the cultural situation in the United States from 1960-1998, the era that formed, institutionally, the spiritual life of most of us prior to the new millennium theologies. Like Moses, too, in this period we have experienced major shifts in our own national belief value system. No? You don’t believe it? Well, family patterns have changed. Sex roles have changed. And governments, including our own, that talked freedom and justice and human rights have been riven with one corruption after another and so have become daily less and less credible to anyone, anywhere. The most dramatic transformation of world view that ever took place has taken place in this period, in your lifetime and mine. John Glenn, our first American astronaut, took from outer space the only picture of the planet that had ever been taken, and he took it, they say, on a $45 camera that he bought at the local drug store the night before he took the trip. But the image of that bright blue globe lost in black space spins in your mind and mine even now, doesn’t it? We’ve never forgotten it. But don’t you understand why? Because up until that moment in your lifetime, the human view of earth and its place in the universe had never been anything else but theory and speculation and educated calculation. Up until that moment in your life, you and I knew where we lived only on the basis of artistic guesses. Now, for the first time in history, we could really see ourselves in all our grandeur. And in all our smallness, too.

This generation saw scientific progress that was often more threat than help. In these few years of your lifetime, science changed life and changed death, changed family and changed sex; changed birth and changed creation from critically unique to cloned, and changed war from struggle to human annihilation – until finally science has managed, in our generation, to change the very meaning of meaning. In this era, military security became our highest priority, our greatest expenditure, and our scarcest commodity. Thanks to our military security, indeed, we created the end of the world, and we stored it in the cornfields of Kansas, using it indirectly to kill millions who were refused, because of the skewing of a military budget, their direct development needs. In this age, too, we have seen new interest in the wisdom of the East, as the wealth of the West lost its power to save. American dominance and isolation and perfect security ended with the launching of Sputnik and the rise of a third world with its commitment to neutrality rather than to either communist or capitalist ideologies, and it challenged your notion and mine of this country’s manifest destiny to be the city on the hill, the new Eden, the covenanted people – as never before in U.S. history.

In this same time frame, integration (Black, Hispanic, Indian, Inuit) challenged white supremacy, and feminism challenged the white male system and even the white male God. And so did great poverty in the midst of great affluence. The working poor – that 20% of Americans out on the streets while we sit here reflecting – cannot get in the richest country of the world full-time work. And six million out there on those streets today will work two full-time jobs and still not get full-time pay. This very moment challenges all the American myths ever made about fair play, and blessing, and the protestant ethic, and the American dream, and freedom and justice for all.

All this has happened in a society, remember, where 10% of the world – the Western Europeans and North Americans – consume, hoard, waste, or control two-thirds of the resources of the entire rest of the world. Indeed, social consensus on values and beliefs has broken down. An annual survey of college freshmen, sponsored by the American Council on Education and the University of California (so it couldn’t be wrong), found in the midst of all this that, unlike their predecessors, college freshmen in this last decade were far less concerned about pollution, more approving of abortion on demand, less opposed to the death penalty, more intent on cohabitation before marriage, less committed to the elimination of racism, less obligated to help others in difficulty, considerably less concerned about developing "a philosophy of life", and extremely more interested in being "very well off financially". And all this while the government spent, on average, only twenty cents of every disposable dollar on human resources – education, employment, job training, social services, health, and fiscal assistance – but spent fifty-five to sixty-four cents of every tax dollar that congress has the authority to distribute, meaning minus entitlements, on the military. And all this in peacetime, they told us.

How can we say that we do not badly need, sorely need, definitely need spiritual-cultural revitalization? Indeed, the consensus on old values has broken down. Indeed, the spirit is dying in the most churchgoing nation in the world. Indeed, the current spiritual-cultural dilemma looms large. Individualism affects every institution. Individualism has been raised to the point of high art. Individualism runs rampant to the point of the pathological in this society. At a time when global community is urgent if both this planet and its peoples are to be safe, our current spiritual dilemma, then, must be, "How do we link the personal with the public dimensions of life?" How do we take this great churchgoing nation and make private spirituality the stuff of public leaven in a world fiercely private and dangerously public at the same time?

The fact is that simple spiritualities of creed, and community, and cooperation are obviously no longer enough. They’re not working, obviously not working. We need now surely a spirituality of contemplative co-creation if the culture is to be Christianized – no, my friends, if Christians are to be Christianized. Genesis insists that the function of humanity is to nurture, and cultivate, and care, and procreate, and take responsibility for. Carrying on God’s work in the world is, in other words, the spiritual life.

What do religion and religious professionalism have to do with all of that? When culture is in chaos and society is in upheaval, it may be important for us to step outside the religious categories in our heads and look for a moment at the process of social revitalization to see what that process might have to say to the church. The anthropologist Anthony F. C. Wallace, in a little known classic on social change and culture, teaches that major transformations of thought and behavior happen in a society when a society discovers that a once common set of religious understandings has become impossible to sustain. To keep gluing them together, Wallace would say, simply obstructs social revitalization. At that point, Wallace says a society begins to undergo a revitalization movement of four major stages.

Stage one of the revitalization process, he says, is a period of serious individual stress. In this stage people begin singly, alone, privately, silently to question their own past values, and they start to establish new patterns of thought and behaviors in the face of the old. Translation: they don’t think about things anymore as they were brought up to think about them or as they once did think deeply about them. What the generation before them took for granted about divorce, or mixed marriages, or birth control, or segregation, or homosexuality they begin to debate and discard. Now how do you know if you’re there? It’s when your mother says to you, "Honey, by all means come to Thanksgiving, but do not talk about X, Y, or Z in front of your father." You are there when you cut the family social calendar to two meetings a week and have someone call you in the middle of one with an emergency you have to leave for immediately. You are there when you hear yourself saying, "My sister and I were always best friends. I love her dearly, but we just can’t talk anymore. We’re okay as long as we’re on shoes and cars, but by God, we cannot get on kids, marriages, and churches."

In stage two of the revitalization process, there’s now a very wide reaching sense of social stress. It becomes apparent that I’m not in this alone. I’m not the only crazy one. My God! They have conferences now; these crazies called Progressive Christians. What we once called "our culture" is now barely recognizable in any of our cultural institutions. And people begin to decide that their problems aren’t personal. They’re not the only black sheep of the family. They’re not just nuts. They don’t have to pay anymore for something to calm their nerves. Without nerves, they’ll never know they’re alive. Their problems, they decide, are a result of failure in the anchor institutions that they depended on for stability and direction. The institutions have let them down. We begin to hear things like: the churches are simply out of tune with the people; the schools are so remote from real life questions; the government is corrupt and corrupting. Suddenly the pot begins to boil over, and there’s political rebellion in the streets, schism in the churches.

In stage three of the revitalization process, the people as a whole all agree now. We do have a problem. They cannot agree on how to cope with this new social situation. Some of them want to change the whole system. Delete! Erase! They just simply want to wipe it out and start over. New church. New government. New schools. Just forget it. And some of them want to send in the troops. Stop this nonsense. Excommunicate those heretics. Crush these people if necessary, but hold the line. The two groups quarrel and divide, and they both blame authority. These people won’t do anything. Then, Wallace says, inevitably (Did you hear? Did you hear the word? If you hear no other word this afternoon, what’s the word you just heard? Inevitably.) inevitably, in stage three of this revitalization movement, a nativist or traditionalist movement suddenly arises out of nowhere. The traditionalists, the nativists, argue that the danger has come from the failure of the people to adhere more strictly to the old beliefs, and the old values, and the old behavior patterns. They want you to do more of the same and do it better. They want the "old-time religion", and they find scapegoats aplenty. The economy would be all right, they argue, if it weren’t for unions. Marriages and families and children would be all right if it weren’t for feminism. They never seem to notice that it’s precisely those past perfect families that brought us to this messy imperfect point. And the country would be fine if it weren’t for communism or liberalism, or Blacks or Arabs or Mexicans or Japanese, or Khadaffi or Hussein or Miloševiƒ, or whoever or whatever is the convenient scapegoat that day.

And in the fourth and final stage of a revitalization movement, Wallace says, comes the building of a new world view, and the restructuring of those old institutions to enable it. But how? In simpler societies, the leadership for this rebuilding of the society usually came from a single charismatic person. Psalm 99 is very clear about it. Moses intervened, and you, oh God, turned aside your destruction. But in more complex cultures like our own, multiple spokespersons, many leaders, a chorus of high clear voices are needed to lead people to new understandings about old values. The role of these spiritual leaders is not to repudiate the older world view entirely, but to shed new light on it so that it can be remembered that God’s Spirit manifests itself always in new ways to meet new needs. Then more flexible people begin to understand, and they start to experiment with the new consensus so that cultural transformation, this movement from death to life of an entire people, begins to happen.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Wallace points out that it is not the older generation – not the people who brought the old ideas, and goals, and values, and designs, from one desert to another with them – that will change this culture. It’s not you and me. No, he says, it’s the new generation that grew up with the emerging insights, the generation that has spent their entire lives wandering in the desert. This is the generation that every time you start to talk about how it used to be in the old days, they start to hum a tune and start to go, "He’s going to do it again; he’s going to say it again; he’s going to preach it again." It’s the generation that spent their entire lives wandering in the desert with no experience, no memory of the past before the chaos because they knew no other. It is this generation that then comes to maturity, and old institutions find themselves with new leadership. Then the institutions are restructured.

Put no hope in the younger generation unless you have listened very carefully and heard that this only will happen in the next generation provided that someone from the older generation, you and I – the theologians, the thinkers, the teachers, the preachers, the progressive Christians – insist that this generation is brought up with, confronted daily with, required to think about the new questions and the new insights. On the days we are the most tired, the most rejected, the least wanted by own, how do we know it can happen? Because in this country alone, we have seen one generation withdraw their allegiance to a king, and the next abolish slavery, and the one after that regulate businesses, and the last one empower laborers. And this one, now, here, yours, mine beginning to struggle for liberation, for equality, for survival. Moses intervened, the Psalm teaches, and you turned aside your destruction. What God saves, in other words, God saves through us. Just as God did with Sodom and Gomorrah, and Mordecai and Esther, and Isaac and Jacob, and Joseph and the Pharaoh, and every requester of miracles in the New Testament. We need to intervene for one another. We need a new world view that puts the old one in new light, and we need the character and the courage to say it where it is least welcome to be heard – in every office, in every cocktail party, at every family gathering, in every conference everywhere – no matter who gets bored, no matter who gets tired, no matter who gets mad.

But how? And where will this spirituality of contemplative co-creation come from in an individualistic culture? And in what way can the religious leaders of our time help to build this bridge from privatized piety to public moral responsibility? I suggest that as religious persons, we begin to look again at the basis of social broken-ness that is found in every major religious stream in the world throughout time, that we ourselves begin to see the spiritual link between the personal and the political. I am suggesting that as religious teachers, counselors, directors, Christians, we begin to look again at what we used to call, and ought to call, the seven capital sins, the seven deadly sins, but this time on two levels rather than on simply one. At the level of the personal of course, but at the level of the global as well. Look again at envy, pride, lust, gluttony, covetousness, anger, and sloth and the way you’re teaching them in your Sunday Schools and from your ambos to your children.

On the global level, can sin be an expression of ethnocentrism? National chauvinism, as well? In Bangladesh, each person each year consumes an average of six and a half pounds of meat, and they consider themselves "blessed". In America, each person consumes an average of two hundred and sixty pounds of meat a year, and they think themselves entitled to do it. So we level other people’s forests for grazing ground because our own isn’t enough for us. We laugh at the vegetarians in our midst who have changed the family menus as well as their own. And we never see it as the beginning of global sin.

We uphold criminal governments politically for our own good – as we did in El Salvador, and Chile, and the Philippines, and Nicaragua – rather than recognize the needs of the people of those countries. When we impose our values and structures in return for trade and profit and power, isn’t that a form of envy? Isn’t it a fear of the other? Don’t we need to think and write and talk spiritually about that?

Pride is, of course, the need to dominate and coerce others on the personal level. But on the global level, isn’t it also the mania for national superiority? For racial superiority? For being number one? For having the best of everything? For having strawberries in January, whatever the cost to the pickers? Americans spend eight billion dollars a year on cosmetics. That’s two million dollars more than the amount that we need to provide a basic education for everyone in the world. If we want to be progressive, don’t we need to think and write and teach and talk spiritually about that?

Lust is clearly the exploitation of another for the sake of my physical gratification. We are beginning to recognize it, finally, when it’s date rape, or pornography, or selfish sensuality. That’s true, but is there yet enough spiritual conscience in us that allows us to see lust as the national passion for instantaneous gratification that justifies the exploitation of whole peoples? So that we can have the cheap cash crops and conveniences that we demand, we are raping their lands and looting their futures – without ever having to follow the legislation that is enabling it, without ever having to pay the decent wages, pensions, or benefits to those people to get them. Isn’t it the exploitation that comes from lust that leads to the feminization of poverty and the loss of feminine resources and feminine values in a world that is reeling toward its own death from the institutionalization of purely masculine values? Two-thirds of the minimum wage workers, who are earning an average across this country of five dollars and fifty cents an hour (they’re in this hotel today, and you’ll pass them in the hall over and over again), are single mothers with three children. To support those children and be self-sufficient, that mother needs to earn sixteen dollars an hour. But we have politicians who tell the people on Monday, "We’re not picking up your health bill, your dental bill, your milk bill, your kids’ bill, again." And on Tuesday those same politicians go to those same cameras and say, "Every one of you people on welfare have to get a full-time job." You can’t have it both ways. You can’t have mothers in the home, and working mothers on starvation legislation. Get it together spiritually, before you vote for anything. Isn’t it the institutionalization of lust that makes it possible to condemn the use of condoms or sex education in our schools but never to say a word, not one word, from an ambo or the pulpit or in a catechism class about the rape hotels in Bosnia? Isn’t it lust that drains the life out of a man for a company, and then when he’s middle-aged, throws him away, useless, so the company doesn’t have to pay him the pension he spent all those years earning? Isn’t that lust? Aren’t you sucking up somebody else’s life and calling it good business, and the American dream, and the twenty-first century culture?

Gluttony, the over-consumption of food, leads to waste and bloated-ness and misuse of resources on a personal level, yes. But it’s also surely at the base of the lack of distribution of surplus in this country that we refuse to the dying in Ethiopia and North Korea and the destitute in Haiti and the farmers in the Soviet Union. All the while that Americans and Europeans are spending seventeen billion dollars a year on pet food, which is four billion dollars more than would be needed to provide basic health and nutrition for everyone in the world. How can we say – unless we are preaching, teaching, talking, and organizing for these things – that we are developing a spirituality for this culture? Someone wrote of this culture: "We do not have a war on poverty. We have a war on poor people." And what are Christians, as churches, doing about it – as we say our prayers, give our retreats, organize our church socials, celebrate our feasts, publish our creeds and catechisms and our new old dogmas and doctrines? The last act of a dying institution, John Gardner says, is to get out a new edition of its rule book.

We speak of covetousness as a lack of a sense of enough, and we know that on the personal level covetousness leads us to the sinful brink of hoarding, or an inordinate desire for unnecessary possessions at least. But you tell me, what’s the difference between that kind of covetousness and the national demon that is fueling a military budget in the quest for world dominance? If we forgave the bilateral debts of the entire third world to us, that would equal 6.8 billion dollars. Do you know what that would cost us, while people are sitting around in the living rooms in the United States livid about the very thought of it? It would cost the U.S. Treasury the price of three B-2 Stealth Bombers for a fleet in which we already have twenty-one such things in peacetime. Or it would equal the money that is lost in accounting errors in the pentagon budget every year.

Anger we recognize as the cultivation of an eschatological sense of righteousness and judgement, putting ourselves in the place of the patient justice of God. "Vengeance is mine. I will repay," we remind one another. But what has happened to the national moral fiber when whatever evil we and our newspapers say of the others – the Japanese, the Chinese, the Arabs, the Serbs – is counted as national virtue? What about the sin of demonizing our enemies to justify the military-industrial complex and of determining our immigration quotas accordingly?

We abhor sloth and the assumption that if anyone has the right to live off the efforts of others, it is sheer laziness. It is lack of responsibility. But where is Christian leadership in the building of a new world view about the sinfulness of multinational structures that are living off the backs of the poor by giving unjust wages and benefits but will spend 165 billion dollars of bail-out welfare for the rich in the S&L’s? How do we take for granted the unequal treatment of women and the blasphemy of absorbing a woman’s life at lesser pay for the convenience of others, moralizing about that kind of institutionalized domestic servitude in the name of God’s will? By the year 2050, in your grandchildren’s lives, eight billion of the projected nine billion in the world will be living in developing countries. Over half of them will be women with no influence whatsoever on the systems that control their lives, while we take for granted our own feminine gains, small as they are financially, and say nothing in behalf of women who cannot say a thing. And we call ourselves models of the perfect Christian families.

So we go on blindly as a culture in our search for goodness, oblivious of new moral imperatives. Our institutions counsel and educate for individuality and autonomy and control and independence in a world that needs community and mutuality and cooperation and interdependence and human responsibility and a new spirituality for contemplative co-creation. Instead, our churches divide over pronouns. And our sermons float high, high above the fray because, Sister Joan, if I said what you are saying, do you know what would happen to my collection? Do you have any idea what would happen in my church? I think I know. I heard of one pastor who met another one downtown. He said, "How’s it going at the church?" The first guy says, "It’s terrific. We had this absolutely fantastic revival meeting this weekend. We’ve never had anything like it." The second guy said, "Is that right? How many signed up?" He answered, "Signed up? Five hundred of them left."

Indeed, we counsel and educate for individuality and autonomy, when we need community and mutuality. We do all that while we go to church, and we go to church, and we go to church. Seventy percent of the respondents to a survey conducted by the Williamsburg Charter Foundation (a non-sectarian organization concerned with religion and public life) said, "Religion has a place in public life." Where is that public religion in private life supposed to come from, if not from the leaders of the Christian community? If not from you and me? If not from Christian communities everywhere? When Jacob saw Joseph in Egypt, he said, "Now that I know that you live, I can die." And God said to Moses, "Stay where you are. Where you are is Holy ground." An ancient people tell the story of a seeker who asked, "Before I follow you, tell me, does your God work miracles?" And the Holy one said, "Well, it all depends on what you call a miracle. Some people say that a miracle is when God does the will of the people. We say that a miracle is when the people do the will of God."

Clearly the role of progressive Christians is, like Jacob, not to die until we have assured the rise of those questions, the life of those questions, in a dynamic and meaningful spirituality as the next generation comes to grips with them. It is like Moses to recognize where we are – with all the depression that it brings us day after day, week after week – as the gate of God’s grace and the cult of God’s work. It is certainly like the Sufi master to see the link between culture and spirituality differently – not to allow ourselves to be pressed back and put down, not to simply abandon the fray, not to say, "I can’t take them on one more time." Why? So that God’s miracles can happen in our time. So that we can find meaning in life by being about something greater than ourselves. So that we can realize the truth of Templeton’s insight that if we had been holier people, we would have been angrier, oftener. Social justice committees won’t do it. We need socially just Christian communities now. For the sake of the people, for the sake of the poor, for the sake of the Gospel, for the sake of the planet, I’m begging you to maintain this group, to build this group, to speak out as a group, to challenge your own as well as the others, to see your contribution to Christianity as the spiritual globalization of the seven capital sins. And I’m praying to have rise in you again the kind of holy anger that makes the Christian life of the new millennium even holier than the last. Though nothing we do changes the past, everything we do changes the future. So do it. Change it. Go on. Now.

Prophecy in the Progressive Church

My goal is to help people know that we are all theologians. So this is not an academic presentation, per se. I want to say some things about what I think prophecy might be in a progressive church and in a troubled world. I want to say what I don't think it is, as well as what it might be. Number one, to be prophetic in the progressive church certainly does not mean to be doctrinaire. I don't know how you can be a doctrinaire progressive. So it seems to me that one of the questions is, how do you speak out in a post-Nicene way? How do you speak out in a post-Nicene way in a Nicene church? I've really got to ask the question because the friends that I argue with theologically assume that the fourth century was it, and that the work has been done.

Prophecy in the progressive church does not mean being doctrinaire. It does mean speaking out as a child of God. It probably means that we have just forgotten to ask the questions. The prophets asked the questions. Biblical ones did. And we often forget that asking questions can be the real way to God. Let's think along that line for awhile.

Second, prophecy in a progressive church and in a troubled world does not mean talking mainly about the future or a far distant time. It does mean being messengers now. This, I think, is important. I was talking with my Jewish chiropractor friend. He is under forty. I have learned to listen to him. He once said, "I know that the difference between prophecy in your church and in mine is that Christians believe it's about the future and Jews believe it's about now." I said, "No, it's conservative Christians who believe it's about the spiritualized future." If our message isn't about the now, we will fall into that trap of a far distant prophetic message that has nothing to do with the present. Prophecy in the progressive church does not mean talking about the future. It does mean being a messenger now.

Third, I think prophecy in a progressive spirit does not mean making abstract, disembodied statements. It does mean remembering concrete, living people and the struggles for life and liberation. Rigoberta Menchu is to me one of the great prophets of our time. This Guatemalan, indigenous woman speaks there about life right under her feet. It's embodied life, and it's real life, and it's diverse life, and it's painful life, and it's hopeful life.

Fourth, I think that prophecy in the progressive church does not mean following a generally male model of threatening or invoking punishment and condemnation. I venture to say this out of my affiliation with liberationist and feminist theology, and with the support of a couple of wonderful theologians, Letty Russell and Shannon Clarkson, who have just edited a new dictionary of feminist theologies. Prophecy does mean—in Letty Russell's words—proclaiming, encouraging, challenging, and strengthening. I am going to quote Richard Hooker, whom we like because he said smart things in the sixteenth century, and that was good news. He said we are inclined to win more to God by mercy than we are by the hard edge of condemnation. Not a bad crack in a century that burned people because they chose the wrong faith. You can throw away those gender labels now because we all know gender labels are illusory. Put that model of condemnation on the shelf, and take out that progressive model of encouraging, challenging, and strengthening. Test out that approach in your own life and in your own experience.

Fifth, prophecy in the progressive church does not mean standing apart from the people, from the community. It is not apartness. We also know it is not neutrality; we have to address apathy. It does mean a deep, critical, relational engagement with a community. This means mountaintops will not do. It probably means that caves are not a good idea unless you've got a bunch of folk in them. It probably means getting down into the valleys and into the mud pits and coming down into the streets. My pastoral training at the University of Chicago years ago was with the Blackstone Rangers. My Clinical Pastoral Education was Saul Alinsky. It made all the difference in the world.

Sixth, prophecy in the progressive church does not mean sweeping generalities, but focused identification of the ways and means of moving forward. Talking with some under forty folk, I heard one of them say, "I've got it. Prophets are kind of like new age folk, they channel the energies." We shouldn't bash new age people. They're tapping into something that's out there. They channel. They focus. Lots of things are going on. How can we really pay attention to channeling the energies? Think, for example, if those churches in the south that were burning were all the Christ Churches and all the Trinity Churches, do you think some folks would be helping us focus the energies? We've got some prophetic work to do up North in focusing energy about specific things that are going on in these times.

Finally, number seven, prophecy in a progressive age does not assume that prophets are few. It assumes that they are many and that they work together, not alone. Prophets are ordinary folk in the best sense of God's ordinary creation. There is myth out there. I had a very conservative Christian student tell me that in his understanding you waited a long time for a prophet to come. When one finally arose, it was three hundred years later after the event. I said, no, that is not the Hebraic understanding and it is not the Pauline understanding of gifts, including prophecy. You're on that ordinary gift list. "The gifts he gave were that some would be prophets." That doesn't mean a few shall be, only one or two, and they shall never meet. Years ago, Carter Heyward and I had the privilege of being in Brazil for an international encounter of Anglican women. I loved the Hispanic ability to call forth the prophets in our own present times. We don't do enough of that. We don't name the prophets in our midst. In closing this presentation, I'd like you to read and to hear a poem by Dorothee Solle that puts urgency on the matter of prophecy in a progressive church. When he came is the poem. It's sort of hard to compete with rock stars, but we've got to compete and to do something about our lack of energy. I hope you know Dorothee Solle's work. If you don't, this is a way to get to know her. She has something important to say in this post-holocaust world.

He needs you that's all there is to it without you, he's left hanging goes up in dachau's smoke is sugar and spice in the baker's hands gets revalued in the next stock market crash he's consumed and blown away used up without you

Help him that's what faith is he can't bring it about his kingdom couldn't then couldn't later can't now not at any rate without you and that is his irresistible appeal

This is a plea for prophecy and for staying present with the prophets in our lives.

Progressive Faith vs. the Illusion of Control

I have never thought of the progressive church as a response to the religious right or to the conservative or the creedal or orthodox church. From my earliest seminary days, I have always assumed that the progressive church was a response to God’s truth as revealed in Jesus and other enlightened teachers and prophets. It is a response to the slow unveiling of the secrets of the universe that continue to expand our understanding of this awesome and often unfathomable creation. It is a response to the ongoing scholarship that has exploded our understanding of biblical times, the historical Jesus and the development of religions in general. I have always assumed that the progressive church was both a response to and a search for truth. In other words a progressive church is based on an acceptance of a progressive faith.

Progress by definition means "to move forward". Obviously this implies change, transition or the need to revise our thinking. Progress always means change, and change is seldom easy, especially when we are dealing with subjective and even sacred issues in our lives.

The truth of the matter is that the Christian movement, or what we now call the church, was always progressive. Jesus and his followers were change agents and that frankly, is what got them all into trouble. According to Mark, Jesus said, "The Sabbath law was made for humankind and not humankind for the Sabbath law," as he intentionally broke the sacred Sabbath laws of his religion. It is hard for us to understand how jarring that would have been to people of his time. You can get some idea, however, if you go to Israel today and break a Sabbath law. Jesus healed on the Sabbath, he ate with the so-called unclean, and he confronted the powers and principalities of his culture as well as his religion. He demanded change in the religious belief system of his people if it was unjust or oppressive to the outcasts or to the marginalized people.

It is hard for me to understand how good biblical fundamentalists miss this point. I find it mildly humorous for example, when good Christians tell me how bad they feel about gays and lesbians but, alas, what can they do? They always say sadly, "You know what scripture says." Well, I will tell you what scripture tells me. When some law, whether from Moses or from some Leviticus priest, is unjust or oppressive to a minority, it has to be ignored or changed. That is what Jesus did, and he put his life on the line for it. And that is what the church that follows Jesus of Nazareth must do. I see no other way to read it. But whenever we confront the status quo of anything, we are asking for trouble; and, if the differences are big enough, the consequences can be life-threatening.

Even Paul was by my definition progressive in his theology for his time. In his letter to the Galatians, Paul takes the position that as Christians we are no longer slaves to the law but are slaves to love, a startling and progressive statement for a Jew.

The early church was known for its vast variety of interpretations of the Jesus events, some of which are actually reflected in our gospels today. Throughout history numerous, well-known progressive theologians and scholars, people of much faith, have had perspectives of the Christian faith that are very different from those held by the normative Christian church. Unfortunately, most of them were deemed heretics and were imprisoned, killed, or forced to recant. Sadly, their scholarship and writings were often hidden or destroyed. Bishop Arius in the 3rd century, Meister Eckhart in the 14th century and D.F. Strauss in the 19th century are just a few of dozens.

Today, we face the same challenge that confronted those who have gone before us. What do we consider belief, knowledge and faith?

Theologian Karl Rahner once wrote, "...what is called knowledge in everyday parlance, is only a small island in a vast sea that has not been traveled... Hence the existential question for the knower is this: Which does he love more, the small island of his so-called knowledge or the sea of infinite mystery?

Karl Rahner wrote this long before quantum physics, the discovery of black holes, the string theory and the most recent realization that some 90% of the universe seems to be in dimensions that we can never see.

The question becomes then, do we love the small island of knowledge more or do we care to sail the "sea of infinite mystery"? It is far easier and certainly more comfortable to stay on the small island of knowledge and be an expert in a familiar paradigm than it is to venture out into the unknown.

Maybe that is why the well known theologian Karl Barth once wrote, "Theology means taking rational trouble over mystery."

I. I. Mitroff and W. Bennis, two sociologists, wrote a book in 1989 called The Unreality Industry. They suggest that the "fundamental dialectic of our times is between reality and unreality, especially now that we have power to influence and create both." The reason we are creating "substitute realities", they argue, is that the world has become so complex that "no one person or institution can fully understand or control it."

"If humans cannot control the realities with which they are faced, then they will invent unrealities over which they can maintain the illusion of control." The question is, they write, do we have the courage to face directly and honestly the complex realities we are capable of creating and discovering or will we turn away from reality and invest our energy increasingly in the denial of reality? I wonder how might the words of these two scholars apply to religions of our day? Does it have anything to do with what has been called the fundamentalist movement in world religions today? Does it have anything to do with religion in this country today?

A progressive faith is one that is willing to challenge the assumptions and to test the paradigm under which we are operating. It is not afraid to ask hard questions and to admit to doubt. My own experience has demonstrated for me that if I ask God or the Ultimate Spirit a question, I may not get the answer but I will be led in a direction where the answer becomes apparent. It is usually my anxiety from worrying about not having an answer to an important question that keeps me from discovering that if I had relaxed, I already had the answer.

As Bennis and Mitroff argue, most of us are uncomfortable with unknowns and mysteries so we create unrealities to fill in the blanks. We want to feel we are on solid footing. We not only want to know where the path is but where it leads as well.

I think that is one reason people get so panicked over earthquakes. It seems interesting that over the centuries earthquakes have done far less damage or caused far less death than hurricanes, floods, or tornadoes. I have spent most of my life in California, and I cannot tell you how many times I have heard, "Oh how can you live out in California with those earthquakes?" Hurricanes and tornadoes come from the sky and floods from the water. But earthquakes demonstrate that what we thought was the one solid thing in our lives, the ground upon which we stand, is not so solid after all. The earth is not only vulnerable to outside forces, but it is vulnerable in itself.

Today in our multi-cultural world, in our interdependent economy, in an era with black holes, quantum physics, string theories and quarks, when we are told there is no time or space, we can feel very vulnerable. We have a hard time identifying a solid footing let alone a lighted path. It is understandable that people want to simplify their thinking. A progressive religion, like a progressive faith, is not an easy path because it can question the very ground upon which we thought we were walking.

We recently had a President, who convinced a lot of people that the fifties were the golden era, somewhere to which we ought to return. Indeed it was "golden" if you were white, a man, and had a good education. But there were a whole lot of other people who did not experience the fifties as a particularly good time, and certainly not as golden. The women’s liberation and civil rights movements were responses to their frustration and suffering. Often we find ourselves yearning for the good old days when the good old days are really a myth.

The point is that it is always easier not to question or doubt. It is usually easier to ignore the truth if it requires that we change. It will often be easier to stay in the same place.

Progressive faith is like learning to ski down a slippery slope. Some of us just do not like that sense of movement under our feet no matter how much fun others seem to be having. We are not comfortable, even frightened, with the pull of gravity down a slope because we feel like we have little or no control. But people who have become proficient skiers will tell you that with practice, skiers gain control by leaning forward into the tips of their skis, actually releasing to the pull gravity. This movement is opposed to everything that seems natural to most people. Most of us would rather sit back on our skis and drag our buttocks on the ground for control. Could it be that the mystery of God is like the pull of gravity encouraging us to lean into the tips of our skis, letting the pull of the mystery lead us into an incredible journey?

It is an exciting time to be alive. I believe that if we follow Jesus’ example and let go of the need for dogma or inflexible belief systems, and if we learn to move with the flow of the spirit, we just might have the dynamic experience of being launched into the "sea of infinite mystery".

Progressive faith may be scary, but it will always be exciting.

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What Every Progressive Christian Should Know About the Tobacco Industry

The tobacco industry likes to portray itself as just another American business, but the facts point to precisely the opposite conclusion. Evidence uncovered in the recent tobacco litigation demonstrates that the tobacco companies deliberately deceived the public into believing that their products were safe and non-addictive while conspiring to keep the industry's knowledge to the contrary secret, manipulated the nicotine delivery of their products to better addict consumers, and targeted children in their advertising campaigns.

Cigarette smoking is the single most preventable cause of premature death in the United States. Well over 419,000 Americans die each year from causes attributable to smoking, and tobacco is responsible for more deaths in the United States than alcohol consumption, illicit drug use, violence, automobile crashes and the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) combined!

The tobacco industry tries to portray smoking as a matter of adult choice. In 1988, however, the U.S. Surgeon General confirmed that nicotine causes a physical addiction similar to and as powerful as those caused by cocaine or heroin. Although smoking involves an initial decision to start, it quickly becomes not a matter of free choice but one of addiction. And most nicotine addiction begins not during adulthood, but during adolescence. Eighty-two percent of adult smokers began smoking as teenagers.

The tobacco industry's advertising plays a preeminent role in encouraging children to smoke. Camel, Marlboro, and Newport - the three most heavily advertised brands of cigarettes - are smoked by 86 percent of the teenage market. Every major tobacco advertising campaign has corresponded to a major increase in smoking among 14 - to 17-year-olds. The tobacco industry denies that it targets minors in its promotional campaigns, but evidence garnered from internal industry documents says otherwise.

In 1954, cigarette manufacturers promised the American public that they would lead the effort to discover and disclose the truth about smoking and health. They have, instead, systematically suppressed and concealed material information about the health consequences of cigarette smoking and waged an aggressive campaign of disinformation. Cigarette manufacturers have taken these actions, even though they have known for years, based on their own secret research, that their products eventually injure or kill consumers when used exactly as intended. Certain cigarette manufacturers also developed sophisticated techniques to manipulate the nicotine delivery of cigarettes to better addict consumers.

Prior to 1994, the tobacco industry was able to fend off litigation by steadfastly maintaining that its products were not harmful and aggressively pursuing a "king of the mountain" strategy. This strategy was succinctly described by a tobacco industry attorney in an internal memo to his colleagues:

The aggressive posture we have taken regarding depositions and discovery in general continues to make these cases extremely burdensome and expensive for plaintiffs' lawyers. . . To paraphrase General Patton, the way we won these cases was not by spending all of [R.J.Reynolds'] money, but by making that other son of a bitch spend all his.

The deceptive and abusive litigation tactics used by the tobacco companies failed in the third wave of tobacco litigation. The class action lawsuits and the state attorney general medical cost reimbursement suits of the third wave made extensive use of the new evidence of tobacco industry misbehavior garnered from thousands of internal industry documents and provided by former tobacco industry researchers and executives. The attorneys prosecuting the cases of the third wave of tobacco litigation also used a number of innovative legal devices, strategies or tactics designed to circumvent the tobacco industry's abusive discovery practices and to overcome the tremendous resource advantages enjoyed by the industry in previous litigation.

On November 23, 1998, the tobacco companies signed a settlement agreement that brought the state attorney general medical cost reimbursement actions and most of the class action lawsuits to a close. The multistate Master Settlement Agreement (MSA) does almost nothing by its terms to curb the sale and use of tobacco products. The MSA does, however, provide settling states with "significant funding for the advancement of public health, [and] the implementation of important tobacco-related public health measures. . ."

To date, only a few states have dedicated their tobacco settlement funds to the public health and tobacco control causes envisioned in the MSA. Most states are spending the money instead on other public projects. The net result is that the tobacco industry is free to continue its unprincipled behavior. The best thing that progressive Christians can do to curb the tobacco industry's deadly behavior is to help with the efforts in their respective states to dedicate tobacco settlement funds to public health and tobacco control purposes. Anyone interested in more information can check out the Tobacco Control Resource Center's web site at www.tobacco.neu.edu Anyone who wants to help with this fight can contact me at 800-387-7848.