Sermons

"Politics"

Sun, 30 May 2010 06:15:00 -0500

I’d like to begin the sermon this morning with an apology of sorts. Last week, during the Earth Day service, I made a statement regarding the current state of affairs on our planet. The statement was that there are not enough resources to permit every person on the planet to live like a middle class American, so it would seem like wisdom for us all to learn to live more simply. The statement was taken from a book that I ran across in my research called “Life in the Balance: Humanity and the Biodiversity Crisis” by Niles Eldredge. What I did not realize at the time was that this statement has been used to further certain political agendas. I received some feedback from within our community that it did come across as a political statement, that there are other valid points of view on the subject, and that making such a political statement from the pulpit is inappropriate. I want to say publicly that I agree completely. The pulpit is no place for politics, and I do regret using the quote.

This, and a few other things that happened this past week, has gotten me thinking about politics, more so than usual. Most any dictionary definition of the word “politics” will refer generally to government, as in: “the science and art of government,” “the conducting of or participation in governmental affairs.” But in our present time the word is used more specifically to describe a manner in which one governs, as in: “the art or science of influencing or controlling government,” “methods used to further one’s personal agenda in a group, especially by crafty or unprincipled means.” These last two are the definitions that cause us to use the word “politics” while rolling our eyes or with an edge in our voice. In our American culture we are increasingly sensitive to politics, and increasingly repulsed and angered by them, but this is not a new sentiment. Thomas Jefferson said that, “Politics is such a torment that I advise everyone I love not to mix with it.” Ronald Reagan wrote, “It has been said that politics is the second oldest profession. I have learned that it bears a striking resemblance to the first.” In every generation we have seen politics used to impede the legislative process; we have seen them used to favor special interests. We have seen politics used to goad others into questionable lines of action. “Politics” according to these later definitions is inherently manipulative, seeking to interfere with one’s freedom to choose, and as such has no place here. We have a theology that cherishes and defends one’s freedom to choose, and in fact states clearly that we cannot grow spiritually without this freedom to choose, and anything coercive, as is often found in modern politics, hinders that spiritual development.

I want to say here that the word “politics” is neither good nor bad; it’s neutral. What we’re talking about here, and what is inappropriate here, is our very human tendency to exert influence over others for self-serving purposes. This, unfortunately, is found everywhere you find people—in government, in business, in families and in churches. Many people rationalize such behavior by believing they actually know what is best for others better than others do, but I believe this to be a self delusion. Swedenborg wrote extensively on the human proprium, or sense of self, often described as our ego, and how our proprium is necessary for our spiritual progress but it is also the source of everything that holds us back and cuts us off from the source of all inspiration and healing. Our proprium is destructive when we place the desires of the self higher than all else, but our proprium becomes a positive force when it serves higher principles, namely, love toward the neighbor and the Lord, which is to say, all things heavenly. It is not easy to regard our own desires as less important than almost anything, which is why humans fall so easily into coercive techniques and political maneuvering. It too often feels to us like a good thing to do.

We need to conduct ourselves more consciously in society if we are to avoid giving our egos too much importance and becoming enslaved to our own desires. When we give into the temptation to use political means to get our way, it is a choice against listening to the still, small voice of God that might just tell us otherwise. I listened to our governor’s speech on Friday, and was disappointed by it, but not because the governor’s ideology differs from my own. That’s fine. I was disappointed because of the frequent disrespectful comments made about the opposing party, all for the purpose, it seemed, of eliciting applause and approval from the crowd. For the record, I’ve heard every other political party doing the same thing. Politics can move us to rationalize some rather cruel behavior toward our neighbor—people that, the gospel tells us, we have been called upon to love. How can we claim to love our neighbor if we take delight in telling jokes at their expense? How can we love them if we criticize them behind their backs? I think we need to remember, especially on the national level, that if the opposing point of view didn’t have a good point to make, it would have become extinct a long time ago. Irrationality has a way of defeating itself in time, and it seems that the more destructive the ideology the faster it self-implodes. History has shown that those who work to squelch others who oppose their own opinions, or even those who ridicule the opinions of others, don’t stand the test of time. The one’s that will last are the ones that place value in love to the neighbor, honoring the validity of each person, and who make a practice of treating each other with respect. That is a society that is loved and supported by its people.

If such a society is to emerge, it must begin locally, in the hearts and in the commitment of its people. So let me say clearly that the kind of politics we have grown accustomed to has no place in this church. Personal agendas and coercive techniques have no place in this church. How can we be lulled into the belief that “we” are always right and “they” are always wrong, that “we” know what we’re doing and “they” are incompetent, and expect the Lord to be present in us in that state? If we want the Lord to lead us into a state of heavenly love and understanding, then we need to avoid states in which we do not listen for the Lord’s guidance, or in which we do not listen with sincere hearts to each other.

It is heart-rending to think that a place with such heavenly intentions as a church can so easily be a victim of politics, or can be co-opted for political purposes. I ran across a business dictionary that defined “organizational politics” as “the pursuit of individual agendas and self-interest in an organization without regard to one’s effect on the organization’s efforts to achieve its goals.” We all need to have a connection with communities that are held to more heavenly principles, for our own sanity, so its important that we all work to make this a place where politics doesn’t reach, which is not to say the we should avoid everything that is controversial. Let’s talk about these things, because this also needs to be a place where everyone feels heard and honored for every rational opinion. To quote Thomas Jefferson again, “I have never considered a difference of opinion in politics, in religion, in philosophy, as cause for withdrawing from a friend.” This needs to be a place where we can be exposed to new points of view offered in a loving and respectful manner, and every person that expresses an opinion needs to be equally willing to listen to other points of view. What we seek to build here is community, and community cannot happen if people feel censured.

But let us agree to use this sanctuary and this pulpit, whoever speaks from it, differently. Let this be a place reserved for achieving and reconnecting with that rational state in which all inspired opinions originate.

"The Reel Tender"

Sun, 7 Mar 2010 14:36:08 -0600

OT: Proverbs 4:1-13
NT: Luke 5:1-11

My father worked in a paper mill during most of the years of my childhood. He worked in what they called the “machine room”, which was dominated by two long drying machines. Liquid paper pulp would be poured out on one end of this machine and would travel through a series of rollers to remove the water. Dad worked at the other end of the machine where the paper would emerge warm and dry and be collected in huge rolls. His job, as I understood it, was to supervise the quality of the paper. In shop-talk, he “tended the reels” and so was known as a “reel tender”.

            It was demanding work. If the flow of paper was interrupted through the machine, an alarm would sound and everyone would be in a frenzy until the line was reestablished. It was also very warm in the machine room. The heat coming off the dryers combined with the heat of summer, and the fact that the machine room was on the second floor of the mill, pushed the temperature up into the upper nineties, which was not easy to endure through an eight-hour shift. What’s more, if your relief was late, or didn’t show up at all, you had to stay with the machine because it ran continuously. Dad worked “swing shift” which meant that sometimes he needed to be there from three in the afternoon to eleven at night, or from eleven to seven in the morning. Quite often we didn’t see Dad for weeks at a time, because when we were home from school he would either be at work or asleep.

            I worked in that paper mill one summer when I was home for college, so I can attest to the fact that conditions were not what you would call ideal. This wasn’t anybody’s dream job as far as I could tell. It’s probably the barest minority of children who answer, “I want to work in a paper mill” when asked what they wanted to do for the rest of their life. I remember wondering all that summer, as I had for some time, how Dad could have stayed with it for nearly thirty years.

            The answer, of course, was that he did it for his family. Those regular paychecks put food in our refrigerator, gas in the gas tank, furnished instruments for his children when they entered the school band, among countless other things.

            And yet, I find myself wondering from time to time what Dad would have become had he not taken the job at the paper mill, which grew more difficult to leave with each year of seniority he earned. What personal dreams did he put on hold so that he could be a good provider? Would he have been a farmer, as I’ve heard him speak fondly of farming so often, or would he have become a trainer of horses? I used to watch him go off to work and come home tired, and I’d wonder, what would he rather be doing?

            I believe that I’ve done my father a disservice. In believing that he would have been happier in a white-collar job rather than punching a time clock, I do not give him credit for the decision that he made. You see, he wasn’t there because he wanted to part of the glorious world of paper manufacturing. He was there because he saw the wisdom of being there. It served a purpose. My father loved his family so much that he was willing to spend untold hours in a sweatshop for our benefit. He may have had dreams of his own, but his dreams were not more important to him than the well being of his children.

            The significance of the selection from the gospels may not be readily apparent. Even though my father is an avid fisherman, that’s not why it was chosen. It reminds me of the advice that my father has given to me over the years. Knowing that my goal has been to become successful, well adjusted and happy, Dad has made suggestions to me along the way, as many fathers do. Some of the advice has been wise, and some less so; some has been happily and gratefully received, and some has fallen on deaf ears. But my sense is that it has always been given out of love, and given by a person who has loved me with an intensity that I am just now beginning to understand. Jesus speaks to his would-be disciples as one who understands how the universe works and who seeks to impart that wisdom out of a desire to see God’s children prosper, learn and grow.

            Of course, Dad taught me with more than words. It was his deeds that have made the most lasting impression on me. His patience and persistence with the paper mill has been a demonstration of the selfless integrity that I hope to emulate now that I am a father. When my daughter was born, she became the most important thing in the world to me—more important than my job, my desires and my bad habits. Whatever I do for myself, I do for her sake, just as my father did for me.

            My father, retired now and free from financial dependents, now has the freedom to pursue some of the loves he put on hold for his family. I hope that he does, because he deserves it.

            I love you, Dad.