And the church is the one place where a doctor ought to forget that he's a doctor. The church is the one place where a Ph.D. ought to forget that he's a Ph.D. The church is the one place that the school teacher ought to forget the degree she has behind her name. The church is the one place where the lawyer ought to forget that he's a lawyer. And any church that violates the "whosoever will, let him come" doctrine is a dead, cold church, (Yes) and nothing but a little social club with a thin veneer of religiosity.
When the church is true to its nature, it says, "Whosoever will, let him come." And it does not supposed to satisfy the perverted uses of the drum major instinct. It's the one place where everybody should be the same, standing before a common master and savior. And a recognition grows out of this—that all men are brothers and women sisters because they are children of a common father.--Martin Luther King Jr.
In the sweltering heat of August, the political temperature keeps climbing. From Town Hall shouting matches to million-dollar ads on the airwaves, the health-care debate, once reserved for partisan parlance in the Capitol, now finds itself in the public square, literally and technologically. Every day another news release is sent out--interest groups marshaling the troops to blanket in-boxes with e-mail forwards. In the last speech of his time, Martin Luther King Jr. said, then of the inequitable treatment of Memphis sanitation workers, though prophetically it fits today-- "The nation is sick. Trouble is in the land; confusion all around."
Yesterday brought word that a
collective of Progressive religious leaders were boldly going where no left-of-right Christians had gone before--launching a national campaign, complete with a network of local minister and leaders pleading the case before their own masses.
I have found myself personally embroiled in conversations on Facebook and elsewhere about the role of the government in health-care reform. Four years of college, 3 years of seminary and 7 years in parish ministry yield a panoply of opinions that run the spectrum of political positions and ideologies. The only unifying strand among those conversations has been the perpetual telling and re-telling of the plight of people within our congregations who are without healthcare, or who have somehow slipped through the coverage cracks of private insurers.
These tales epitomize the tragic--lingering mortgage-sized hospital bills, individuals picking and choosing which prescriptions to buy, families torn apart by chronic illness and as-yet-undiagnosed diseases. They differ greatly in person, age and situation, but they represent a common need--that across any given congregation of 50 or more people, someone is struggling--perhaps even dying--and there is nothing to help them. Tending to the sick, the widow, the orphan has always first been the task of the church, not the government, and yet as democracy has advanced and denominations have divested themselves of hospitals and clinics, yielding our strange brew of private and public, right-to-care and right-to-the-debt-that-comes-with-it.
Partisan positions aside, the narrative of a people--lives effected on every level, across denomination, geography and socio-economic standing--bear witness to a common cry within the Church.
There are all sorts of questions to be raised regarding the voice of the church. For many, the pulpit has become a place to declare admiration for or ridicule of political positions and "agendas". Just as
James Dobson conceded defeat (sort of) in the culture wars, the IRS continued to investigate red and blue pulpits--policing for rhetoric that would threaten the as-yet-tax-exempt church. For others, there is a sense in which the voice of the church must always be prophetic--speaking not to individual politicians and policies, but to the structures--the principalities and powers which cripple human beings and institutionalize oppression.
For the average minister I know (including myself), both of these polarities cause some unease. We are captive first to the Gospel and secondly to the congregation for whom we are parsing that Gospel. The breadth of human experience--notwithstanding the political and social trappings--is enough to, with one word, incite some to ecstasy and allow others to smolder with contempt. It is a precarious pulpit.
And yet there must be a Voice of the Church.
It is in the Church that human beings across race, across socio-economic standing, across ballot boxes and school districts, across the corner office and the welfare line--it is there--in the Church--where we gather to orient ourselves around a common purpose--learning to live and to love as Jesus whom we call Christ.
It is in the Church that stories are told and food is collected--hats are passed and visitation schedules are set--yards are mowed and children are watched.
It is in the Church that we move beyond love of self and of God and toward love for neighbor.
It is in the Church that we realize our salvation is inextricably bound up in the salvation of those in our midst.
It is in the Church that our conscience is pricked and our hearts are stirred.
It is in the Church that we quit asking "What will happen to me?" and start asking "What will happen to them?"
The Church of Jesus Christ is uniquely poised to tell its story--to bear witness to that which it has seen and heard, concerning the way of Jesus and what that way has to say about how we live our lives hear and now.
Where corporations speak only to those under their employ, the Church must speak to and for those who find refuge within--and the invitation is "for all who would, Come."
The Voice of the Church is to speak to the whole host of issues that plague the congregation--the poor, marginalized and oppressed and the affluent, successful and miserable.
We cannot maintain silence in the face of gross negligence--we have a responsibility to take on the hard-work of caring for the least of these and to work diligently to repair that which is broken.
It is time for the Voice of the Church to be heard--lest the rocks and rock stars be the only ones crying out.
