A Confession of Failure--May 8, 2020

A Confession of Failure--May 8, 2020

"Help, O LORD for there is no longer anyone who is godly;

    the faithful have disappeared from humankind.

 They utter lies to each other;

    with flattering lips and a double heart they speak.

 May the LORD cut off all flattering lips,

    the tongue that makes great boats,

 those who say, 'With our tongues we will prevail;

    our lips are our own--who is our master?'

'Because the poor are despoiled,

    because the needy groan,

 I will now rise up,' says the LORD;

'I will place them in the safety 

    for which they long.'

The promises of the LORD are promises that are pure,

    silver reined in a furnace on the ground,

purified seven times.

You, O LORD, will protect us;

    you will guard us from this generation forever.

 On every side the wicked prowl,

    as vileness is exalted among humankind." [Psalm 12:1-8]

In the end, hope doesn't come from religious people.  It comes from the God who rises up to act when others have been stepped on, the God who raises up the vulnerable.

Okay, truth in advertising: I stumbled upon the words of this psalm in what seemed like random chance today, as I was paging through my Bible looking for a different passage.  And, to be further honest with you, I don't think I had ever taken note of this psalm before today.  

And now, I can't help but think that I needed these words--that we need these words--and the permission they give us to be disappointed in the world at large.  Even in religious people.... maybe especially in religious people.

One of the things I find so refreshing about the psalms of lament like this one is that they are so unflinchingly honest.  They can see the rottenness in the world around, and name it, even when it means accusing the supposedly "faithful" and pious of selling out.  I say this, of course, as a professional religious person, and as much as it may run against the grain of what's good for "business," I have to confess that there are so many ways that "respectable religious people" have disappointed me that I need the reminder from this psalm that it's OK to confess that disappointment.  I need to know that it's OK to just be frustrated, to be disheartened, to be let down, by the ways that we religious folk sometimes totally blow it.  And I need the psalmist to take me by the hand one step further, too, to consider that there are surely ways I have let down others, too, as the face of "respectable religion" that sold out, too.

Sometimes I think churchy folk make the mistake--a well-meaning mistake, but all the more destructive for all those good intentions--of thinking that it is the church's job to be the center of attention.  I think we imagine sometimes that the goal of church is to get ourselves to be more and more powerful, more and more influential, more and more in positions of control, so that we can, you know, fix everything.  I think we sometimes imagine that our job as church is to promote ourselves, and that once we get enough people signing up to join, or watching our videos on YouTube, or following us on social media, then we will have enough influence to make the world be holy and good and righteous.  World saved, problems fixed, story over, thank you very much, we will say, dusting off our hands.

But that is a damned lie.  As theologian Lesslie Newbigin once put it, "A church that exists only for itself and its own enlargement is a witness against the gospel."  Sometimes what makes me most frustrated about the Respectable Religious Crowd is their (our) willingness to put ourselves in the center rather than God.  And when we think the point of the institution called "church" is just to keep propping up the institution called "church," the world sees through us and sees our fakery.  When we are only interested in making ourselves look good, or in getting the photo op of our service project or mission trip, or in rubbing elbows with the politically well-connected, or pushing for an agenda that is convenient for ourselves but harmful to others, we reveal just how anti-God we really have gotten.

And I think that's what the writer of the psalm has in mind here, when he sets his sights on the so-called "faithful" who have sold out in order to flatter the powerful and make themselves their own bosses.  The poet here has seen religious people sell out. He's seen them turn a blind eye at crookedness when it suited them.  He has seen pious people trade their faith in for good marketing.  He has seen folks who call themselves godly willing to sell their souls for a little more access to the well-heeled, a little more influence, and a little more power.  And the poet here is just disillusioned with all of it.

We live in an age when it is so much easier to see that crookedness in one another--we advertise it on social media after all!  We find ourselves posting and sharing Bible verses and memes to call for everybody to pray more in one moment (because, you know those things look pious), and then the next moment, we're selling out our credibility by the rottenness and selfishness that comes out of our keyboards in the next moment.  We religious folks talk a good game about how much we wish everybody would follow Jesus, sharing pictures of him knocking on an old wooden door to show just how pious we are, but at the next moment we give our true selves away by sharing some hateful meme, or being terribly unkind, or ignoring all sorts of injustices all around us because it is inconvenient to do so.  And when we do those things, we are pulling back the curtain for the world to see just how crooked these hearts of ours are.

Sadly, so often in this world, terrible things happen, and the first response of the Respectable Religious Crowd is, "I will feel very upset if WE are inconvenienced by this!" rather than to share the place of those who suffer, to sit beside those who have been stepped on, or to sacrifice our comfort for the sake of reflecting Christ to those most at risk.  In the face of a global pandemic, the Respectable Religious Crowd insists, "We will keep on having church as usual, because you can't tell us what to do, and we won't let ourselves be controlled by anybody!" rather than to see our calling to refrain from gathering as an act of love for our neighbors, including neighbors we don't know yet.  In the face of another (another!) shooting of an unarmed black man, this time just jogging in his own neighborhood because somebody else thought he looked like someone they suspected in past burglaries, the impulse of the Respectable Religious Crowd is to say, "They were righteously defending their neighborhood, just as the church must defend its territory, too!" rather than to cry out against the cavalier and rash way that Ahmaud Arbery's life was taken from him.  And in the face of an economic crisis that flows from the pandemic we are living through, it is folks in the Respectable Religious Crowd leading the way with theories that the coronavirus was all invented as part of a secret conspiracy to get people to succumb to the "mark of the Beast" or to serve a political agenda, rather than simply being a terrible and tragic complicated crisis with many factors that enabled its spread and effects.

And this is what disappoints me the most--again, saying this as a professional religious person myself--when our neighbors see a tragedy like a pandemic, or a murder, or the specter of a recession unfolding before their eyes, and the first thing they see "religious people" doing in response is angry shouting at their inconvenience, or burying their heads in the sand at injustice, they will want no part in the Gospel we have to share with them.  They will want to hear nothing of the God we say we serve, and they will want to hear none of what we say is "good news."  I sure as heaven wouldn't want to.

Sometimes, the biggest obstacle to the spread of the Gospel turns out be religious people... myself included.  I wish it weren't so, but it is.

But what gives me deep hope on a night like tonight is that the psalmist here doesn't pin his hopes on "religious people" getting it right.  He doesn't expect that "the faithful" will save the day--he knows better, probably from having been let down by pious folk before.  But he does have hope that things will be set right.  And the poet sees that hope comes from God, even in spite of the rest of us if need be.  God sees the need of those who have been stepped on, and God rises up to act.  God hears that the ones most at risk and on the margins are groaning with grief, and God moves.  God raises up those who are most hurting, most in need, most regarded as disposable or expendable, and God promises help and safety for them. Yes, even when we still live in a world in which "on every side the wicked prowl."  The writer of the psalm says you'll spot God in the lifting up of those who suffer injustice and exploitation.  Whether or not the Respectable Religious crowd thinks to look there, too.

I have to confess: it is disheartening as we live through these days to see the first response of so many "religious" folks be, "How will we prop up our own institutions?  How will we keep our religious clubs going? How long do you think we can bear the inconvenience we are being asked to bear for the sake of others' help, before we decide we just are going to do our own thing?" rather than to look for ways we can show up where God has already promised to show up--lifting up those who are most bowed down.  And I know the impulse myself as a leader of a congregation, only to focus on "How do we keep our own lights on?"  I know the impulse to think, "We just can't think about other people and their needs right now--we have to look out for ourselves and our own interests right now!"  And I am glad that the salvation of the world isn't up to the church, or to pious people, or to religious professionals.  

It is enough to know that God doesn't have to think about an institution first--that God is free simply to give new life to those at the brink of death, to bring about little resurrections for those who have been stepped on, to bring about justice for those who have been denied it. It is enough to know that even when so many religious folks can't bring themselves to tears, God weeps for Ahmaud.  It is enough to know that God doesn't need to worry about paying light bills or managing salaries, but can spend all of the divine effort on raising up the lowly who are at risk because they've lost their job or are afraid of where their rent money will come from.  It is enough to know that even when religious people (like me) disappoint, God always proves faithful.

I didn't intend to stumble on these verses tonight.  But maybe the Spirit needed me to hear them again and made the onion-paper pages of my Bible stick here because God knew I needed it.  Maybe we all need the reminder of where to place our trust for life.

Lord God, we are letdowns and disappointments so often.  We give your ourselves, flaws and all, asking you to work for good in the world--in spite of us, if necessary, but through us wherever possible.