She certainly got us all talking. Just a few weeks ago, Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde spoke directly from the pulpit to the president at a national prayer service, looking President Trump in the eyes and urging him to show mercy to trans children, refugees, and immigrants who are afraid of what his policies may mean for them.
I have listened to a lot of sermons, and I don’t recall anything like it, not least in that millions of Americans were talking about a sermon for weeks afterward. I daresay that few of us will ever stir up so much discussion, but all of us called to preach have to talk about the great moral matters of our time. How shall we do it?
First, it must be said that Bishop Budde made an important point about the need for mercy in our politics today, and for the need to respect the dignity of every human being. To apply that point in specific ways is not bringing politics into the pulpit, but is simply applying biblical teaching to everyday life.
Since Bishop Budde’s sermon, there have been several examples. I have been troubled by the cessation of funding for refugee resettlement agencies like Episcopal Migration Ministries. These refugees are people who have fled home for well-founded fears of persecution. Most refugee resettlement work in this country has long been done by church agencies, joining needed public aid to communities of faith that are able to provide what government can’t. In a nation of 340 million, surely we can welcome a few thousand refugees in God’s name.
Yet how do we talk about these moral matters in a way that stands a chance of being heard? In this sense, I am not sure that the bishop’s sermon landed. I have spoken to people who felt Trump and his supporters were being uniquely shamed and singled out in public. And I have spoken to people who resist Bishop Budde’s framing of the issue, who do not see it as merciful to effectively encourage immigrants to pay human traffickers to make dangerous journeys on foot, or who do not see it as respectful to deny women their private spaces. While I take it that Bishop Budde’s point was moral and not partisan, the way she made her point was heard by many as applying to only one political party. Especially as conservative Episcopalians do not always feel welcome in their church, these are concerns to take seriously.
If we wish to be heard by all, we must take care to avoid all partisanship, to respect where people of different political persuasions come from and show that we are genuinely listening. When we Episcopalians are content to live within a progressive bubble, we lose the ability to reach anyone outside it. The reverse is just as true, of course, for anyone who lives in a conservative bubble. It really does help to read, for instance, both The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal; to listen to both NPR and Joe Rogan; to simply listen to people in our communities. Diversifying the voices we listen to is one crucial step we clergy can take. We may well discover that there are more sides to consider than we knew.
Of course, the problem goes deeper. We all run the risk of making religion into what Peter Berger called our “sacred canopy,” nothing more than the beliefs of our group projected up and worshiped as a god. Having grown up in a conservative denomination, I can see in retrospect how often we did that. But coming to the Episcopal Church as a young man, I was immediately struck by how often it seemed that my new church did the same thing, just as progressives.
More deeply, then, we need to place Christ and his kingdom first in our hearts, and allow the Bible to reshape our political convictions. As the leadership expert Carey Nieuwhof put it on Twitter a few years back, “If God has all the same opinions your political party does, you’re probably not worshiping God.” Personally, I have come to love Catholic social teaching, not least because it challenges both left and right today in specific ways (e.g., on welcoming the unborn and the refugee), and I have been impressed by Christopher Watkin’s recent book Biblical Critical Theory, which attempts the same from an evangelical position.
Finally, most of all, we must never forget that we’re called to preach the gospel at all times — including when we preach about moral matters. Speaking truth to power is important, but of itself is never enough, because even though the Law is good and holy, it cannot save (Rom. 7:12).
Many preachers, with good reason, seek to emulate prophets like Isaiah and Amos in speaking truth to power. Yet we should take to heart a striking observation by Eugene Peterson: “Isaiah is the greatest preacher to be represented in our Scriptures. He is also our most conspicuous failure … He preached powerful, eloquent, bold sermons. Nobody listened.” We should remember that Jesus most often taught not like the prophets, but by telling stories that had a chance of getting past the opposition he faced and into people’s hearts, like the prophet Nathan did with King David (2 Sam. 12).
As important as mercy is, our hearts need to be converted to mercy. The truth of the gospel, as Tim Keller put it, is that “we are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope. This is the only kind of relationship that will really transform us.”
When we preach, what could be better than telling stories about the love and mercy of Jesus, the one who lifts up the lowly and sets the prisoners free? As we do, may we also lift up the lowly and the captives to Jesus, through whom all nations are gathered into one body through the cross.
The Rev. Jordan Hylden, ThD is Associate Rector for Christian Education at St. Martin's, Houston. Previously, he served churches in Louisiana, South Carolina, and Dallas, and as Canon Theologian for the diocese of Dallas. He has served as a General Convention deputy and on TEC's Task Force for Communion Across Difference. His doctoral work focused on democracy and authority in Catholic social thought. He and his wife, the Rev. Emily Hylden, make their home in Houston with their three boys Charles, Donnie, and Jacob.