10th Sunday after Pentecost (Fr. Guiliano)

John Myrick Daniels

Reading before bed is a habit my mother instilled in me. It’s almost impossible for me to go to sleep without reading at least a few pages. So I keep a small stack of books by my bed: my prayer book and Bible, so I can read Compline or the Psalms; a book of poetry; a light novel; even some comic books or manga. But sometimes I want some serious non-fiction before bed, and a member of this congregation recently dropped off Christian Smith’s new book, Why Religion Went Obsolete: The Demise of Traditional Faith in America. It’s deeply insightful, and I have been recommending it to many people, though its contents cost me a sleepless night or two. 

It’s hard to think your way of life is obsolete.

The book traces a series of cultural changes that have taken place over the past two generations. One chapter called “Perfect Storms Converging” offers a whole series of explanations for why many people no longer attend religious services or affiliate with religions. There’s not just one reason; there are many.

Another chapter that really caught my eye was titled “Religion is Good When…” In it, Smith outlines the series of assumptions or expectations that most Americans have about religion, what they think religion is good for. This chapter should be required reading. 

Smith raises six general themes. On the basis of  survey data, Americans say believe religion is good when it teaches people morals (44-47), that “religion is good when it helps people cope with life, sustain a positive outlook, and feel calm, happy, affirmed, and encouraged” (48). “Religion is good when it fosters community, social cooperation, peace, and harmony” (50). “Religion is good when it provides societal models for basic moral integrity, decency, and honesty—” especially when religious leaders are themselves providing such good models (52). “Religion is good when it is moderate, not too weird, and certainly not fanatical or extremist” (54). Finally, “Religion is good when it strengthens America as a nation” (55). 

Now, as I read that chapter and considered that list, I saw a lot to agree with. The Christian faith does teach morals. It should help people cope. We do aim for peace, and think religious leaders should be models of integrity (though the way we pray constantly for that to be true suggests we think Episcopal leaders may need some special help).  Anglicans and Episcopalians have also generally thought religion should promote a degree of moderation and help bind together civil society. 

But three things struck me about this chapter: 

First, as Smith notes, there are crucial things missing in these expectations: like eternal salvation, union with God, fidelity to the Scriptures – actually most of things you might hear about at church.

Second, American expectations often make religion instrumental, as if people come to church to become good citizens or for the sake of family life or psychological wellness or to be successful. Our faith can often help with all of these things, but it’s not clear to me that they are the purpose of religion or even necessarily the sign of a religion’s goodness. Fidelity to God is more important than allegiance to any nation (our government could, after all, become corrupt: hard to believe, I know in this era in which Americans constantly accuse one another of epic betrayals of fundamental democratic principles). 

There are also times when our faith might call us to make choices that really don’t promote career success. And, then, there are aspects of our faith that just aren’t there to make us feel good or affirm our pre-existing beliefs and psychology or strengthen our family’s cohesion. 

The most serious thing I thought about this list of American expectations was that they fail the Jesus test. Jesus Christ himself might be screened out by what we want from religion. Because, just to take a few examples, Jesus was not moderate in his thinking. He could be weird. He seemed like a fanatic. And he did not always promote peace and harmony. We all heard his words in the Gospel today:

I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! … Do you think I came to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided: father against son, and son against father, mother against daughter, and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law. 

Not peace, but division. How can this be?

Let us return to three things in our readings: justice, truth, and faithfulness. We can see how a focus on such things might be divisive. 

Take Psalm 82. In it, God appears as a just ruler, rendering judgment against other gods and, by extension, against the injustice of human life. He takes his stand in the council of heaven; he accuses; he demands an account:

How long will you judge unjustly, 
and show favor to the wicked?

Save the weak and the orphan; 
defend the humble and needy. 

Rescue the weak and the poor; 
deliver them from the power of the wicked.

God “takes his stand.” He has a position on matters of justice, right and wrong. Indeed, throughout the Old Testament, God continually takes a stand, and he has his prophets take a stand, calling out continually the sins of his people, particularly when they favor the powerful and rich over the weak and poor. This is hard; it can be divisive. No one wants their sins pointed out; no society enjoys having its hypocrisies named. But everyone and every society must hear God’s animating voice, even if shakes them. 

Similarly, fidelity or faithfulness might require looking weird, seeming extreme or fanatical. In our reading from the Hebrews, the author retells the story of faith. It is not a story of moderation. 

Time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets, who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, obtained promises, shut the mouths of lions, quenched raging fire… They were stoned to death, they were sawn in two, they were killed by the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, persecuted, tormented – of whom the world was not worthy. 

Fidelity required a harder road. It would have been easier -- it might even have promoted community cohesion -- for these religious heroes, these saints, to be a little more moderate, and less fanatical. 

I can hear the voices now: “Why get thrown into the lions’ den, Daniel? Just stop praying to your god.” 

“Why accept death at the hands of a tyrant? Who needs to be sawn in two?” Anyone of the early Christian martyrs could have been told; indeed, they were told to compromise: “Just burn a little incense to the emperor. It doesn’t mean anything.” 

Closer to our own time, I think of Jonathan Myrick Daniels, an Episcopal seminarian and civil rights activist, who was killed on August 20, 1965. You may know the story. He went down to Alabama as a non-violent protestor against Jim Crow policies. He was arrested at a protest in Fort Deposit, imprisoned, stranded in another town without transport. 

And when the group he was with was going into a convenience store to buy a cold drink -- so simple -- he had to step in front of a racist’s shotgun to save the life of Ruby Sales, a nineteen-year-old black student. 

Obviously Daniels made a series of choices to end up dead in Alabama. He could have stayed home. Why disturb the South’s peace? Daniels went down to Alabama because he believed in the justice of God; he believed that the truth of God demanded an end to segregation. Daniels went down and died to be faithful. He served a higher purpose, he sought a greater unity, a unity in the truth that all are created in God’s image. He burned with zeal for justice, burned with that fire Jesus came to bring. “How I wish it were already kindled!” 

The Word of God, the truth of God burns within all the saints. For, as the Lord said through the prophet Jeremiah, “Is not my word like fire, and like a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces?” 

“Let the one who has my word speak my word faithfully.”

Our faith has something to say about morals, about integrity. We aim for a peaceful society; we want all people to be well. Religion is often good for all these things, but it offers more than what the average American imagines. 
Our heavenly Father summons us to powerful acts of faithfulness, to deeds of justice. The Lord Jesus calls us to embody his truth in faithful lives. The Holy Spirit sets us ablaze with the fire of God.

That may sometimes require us to be uncomfortable; it may at times divide before it unites. It may cost us as individuals or even as a community. But it is a cost worth paying, if we are to come into the fullness of God’s kingdom. 

“We are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses,” those who went before us in faith. Inspired by them,

Let us also lay aside very weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. 

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