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August 2, 2009

“The Realistic Church” John 6:24-35 Rev. Phil Blackwell

      I have the promise of a meeting with the alderman this week, though the day and time has not been set. This is about parking on Sunday mornings. For 29 years we have had a “handshake agreement” with the city that worshipers can park in the “No Parking” areas near the church on Sunday mornings. There are very few people in the Loop at this time, traffic is light, and except for the Chicago Marathon, the Taste of Chicago, and the Christmas village in the plaza, the city is not making use of this part of town. 

      Most of the time it has been an agreeable accommodation, but every few years people change in City Hall, the agreement gets lost, and cars get towed. So, about a month ago they started towing the cars of people while they were attending worship services. It is upsetting when the city towing department is getting more mileage out of our sermons than we are. So, we are in the process of renegotiating the understanding.  But this time, I want there to be an ordinance that codifies the accommodation which then will be reflected in appropriate signage. I will let you know after the meeting how things went.

      We are not asking the government to do something that shows favoritism toward religious bodies in general or of this congregation in particular. That is not the government’s role. When we in the church talk about the “separation of church and state,” it is in our interests to keep the government at arm’s length from the work of the church. We do not want them telling us how to worship, what to believe, how to organize, and what mission projects to do. We only are asking for a commonsense agreement over parking space so that we can do what we are called to do, and at the same time the city can provide the order and security it is commissioned to provide. If each does its work, both benefit.

      A few weeks ago we could have gone to the television stations (CBS is right across the street) and complained, “The city is prejudiced against churches!” And they would have loved to get footage of the city towing cars down the street while people sat here in the sanctuary. We could have written to the newspapers, “The city is stopping us from being the church!” and it would have made the “Letters to the Editor.” But neither of those accusations would have been true, and embarrassing the city would have been wrong, not to mention unproductive. 

      The church and the city have distinct spheres within which to work, and we need to find mutual benefit in those places where the spheres overlap.

      Here is a book that I recommend to you, but only if you are willing to read about ten pages an hour and do a lot of underlining. It was written by a dear friend, Robin Lovin, who is the University Professor of Ethics at Southern Methodist University and an expert on Reinhold Niebuhr. In this book he takes Niebuhr’s realistic view of the Cold War world of the 1940’s and 50’s, a world defined by the balance of national powers, and brings it into the 21st Century when nation states are no longer defining the politics of the day, but rather global corporations and communications networks. How can we live as people of faith in a world that is even more complex than it was 60 years ago?

      It is only right that I put a quote of Robin’s on the front page of the bulletin since he put a picture of the Chicago Temple on the cover of his book entitled, Christian Realism and the New Realities. Robin is a wonderful writer because he puts his main point right up front. So, the quote is from page 1 of the introduction.

      “Christian realism is a reminder of our limits and an affirmation of our hope. It tells us that our knowledge is imperfect, our plans incomplete, and our expectations are inevitably distorted by self-interest. . . . Final answers and permanent solutions elude us.

      Nevertheless, we live in a meaningful universe. . . The coherence of our partial truths and the justice that expresses our imperfect love point to reality in a way that incoherence and injustice do not. So we feel ourselves always obliged to work toward a better approximation of justice and peace, and we cannot rest content merely in prevailing with our own interests.” Christian realism.

      Of course, we can choose to be unrealistic as Christians. One way some segments of the church have done that over the centuries has been to write off the world. “Let the world go to hell in a handbasket,” we can say. “We will be a faithful and pure enclave in the world, but not of it.” Sectarian. Branch Davidian at its worst; Amish at its best.

      Or, we can go all the way in the other direction and baptize the world and try to take it over. Make the government pray our prayers, have the schools teach our doctrines, have the movies portray our values, mandate that businesses sell only products of which we approve. At its worst, and this image still haunts me, it is Cardinal Spellman blessing the bombs in Vietnam on Christmas Eve that would be dropped on the peasants on Christmas Day. At its most benign it is a senior praying in the name of Jesus Christ at the high school graduation.

      We could be, have been, unrealistic. But, what does the realistic church look like? Describing that is Robin Lovin’s task in this book. First, the realistic church displays some “epistemological modesty.” I love that term. Robin does not use it, but it is fun to say. It means that what we know in this life is incomplete. Maybe someday, somewhere, we will see it all. “Now I see in a mirror dimly; then I will see face-to-face,” writes Paul to the Corinthians. Living in the “now,” “final answers and permanent solutions elude us.” That requires modesty on our part, a life without dictating absolutes to others, a church that moves toward justice and peace while confessing its partial truths and imperfect love.

      Of course, do you realize that we never will get a television show that way? Everybody on the religious channels have all of the answers. They are absolutely sure of what is best for everybody. And here are the three easy steps to take. That is unrealistic, Niebuhr would say, even un-Christian.

      Rather, and second, the realistic church acknowledges that we live in many contexts at the same time. Yes, we live in the context of our religion, and this morning we sit here in one of its holy of holies. But we also live in the context of the government.  We are citizens who need civic order and protection. We live in a business context. We buy things, sell things, and perhaps offer our skills for a livable wage. We live in a cultural context that can be “high,” that is, theater, opera, and literature, or “low,” tweets, twitters, gossip, and the tabloids. And we live in the context of our families – the “ideal American family,” which is in the minority, or in any number of variations on the theme of “family.”

      All of this is to say, life is complex. When I grew up in Danville, Illinois, there was only one religion, St. James Methodist Church where my dad sang in the choir directed by Pansy Legg. There was one government; in this case, the crossing guard who helped us cross Gilbert Street to get to Roselawn School. There was one business, Stretch’s Grocery Store which was the magic land of popsicles, dreamsicles, and fudgesicles. There was one culture carried over the airwaves by WDAN radio, “overlooking beautiful Springhill Cemetery.” And there was only one family – mine. But as I grew up the world became more complex than I first thought.

      So third, the realistic church sees itself existing in this complex of contexts – but does not lose sight of its distinctiveness. What is the distinctive reality of the church? It can be described in many ways. Around here we talk about four areas of engagement that make the church the church: worship, education, personal care, and mission. This is what the church is. This is what the church does. And we do not apologize for it to anybody. 

      I will not apologize to the alderman and say, “I am sorry that we worship on Sunday morning. I know it is inconvenient to the city.” No, this is what we have been doing on this corner since the 1830’s when, probably, there was a problem with where to hitch up the horses. Worship, education, personal care, and mission describe our context which we offer to stand along side the other contexts.

      Worship of all kinds – loud/soft, organ/bass guitar, Midwestern accents/world languages, sung/spoken, an open sanctuary morning, noon, and night.

      Education. Charles Wesley put to music, “Let us unite the pair so long disjoined: knowledge and vital piety.” We resonate with the Episcopal ad showing a caricature of Jesus and stating, “He came to take away your sins, not your mind.”

      Personal care. Here in the middle of the city it is hard for an individual to be noticed. Sometimes that is good. Other times we need to be known. The church battles against our culture’s tendency to throw people away by claiming that each one is a child of God.

      Mission. We do what is in front of us. We feed the hungry, and then walk across the street and tell the city that it needs to do more. We tutor children, and then we walk another block to the state office building and insist that the legislators fund education sufficiently. We go to Ghana to help with well-digging, to Chile with church-building, to the Philippines with health care-providing.

      So, while we accept the stance of epistemological modesty, we declare this to be absolutely true for us:  we must love God and love our neighbor. That feeds us. That is the bread of life for us. And when we love God and our neighbor we are filled with faith and compelled to act.

      It is true that when Jesus tells us that to do it to one of the least of these is to do it to him we are filled with courage to serve the hungry, the threadbare, the lonely, the outcast, the misfit . . . and we do not weary of well-doing.

      And, when Jesus brings the little child into the midst of the adults, when he lets the woman touch the hem of his garment, when he turns over the tables of the moneychangers defiling the temple, when he forgives the adulteress, when he breaks the bread and pours the wine, he is showing us what is real. And it is in the confidence of that reality that we inhabit our context without apology.

      But, you can be sure when I meet with the alderman that I will point out the ways in which this church, living fully within its own context, has a positive influence on other contexts. How it is that since the church is here as a consistent force for good in society, we contribute to the order and safety of the city. How our presence brings a beauty and peacefulness to the Loop which enhances the working environment. How our Silk Road Theater, our hosting the Chicago Humanities Festival, and our own special concerts contribute to the culture of Chicago. And how our support for individuals and families – Sunday School, parents of young children, a youth group, pastoral counseling, a grief support group, hospital visits, surrogate families for those without biological ones – makes this a more livable place for all. We do not ask the city to do the work of the church; we simply ask that it not unduly impede us as we do our work. Realistically, it benefits the city for the church to be the church.

      So, what does the realistic church look like? First, it knows that it does not know it all, and so it is modest in its truth claims. Second, it acknowledges that it is one context among many which people inhabit simultaneously and needs to engage the other contexts where there is overlap. And third, it is clear about its distinctiveness and does not apologize for it. 

       In this way, I submit, being the realistic church is an affirmation of our Christian hope. There is a truth beyond our full comprehension that beckons us forward toward discovery. There is a power beyond our control that orders things in the world so that we can live coherent lives. There is a purpose beyond our willfulness that leads us to live responsibly before God. And that truth, that power, and that purpose are revealed to us in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Philip L. Blackwell
The Chicago Temple
August 2, 2009