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On FundamentalismOctober 01, 2006 World Communion Sunday In the few minutes I have this morning, I want to talk with you about religious fundamentalism. I want to do this for a number of reasons, but chief among them is that fundamentalisms of various sorts have been getting a lot of play in the media over these last years, and their presentation tends to cloud the perception of many people about the nature of healthy religion, healthy faith practice, healthy spirituality. All this fundamentalism stuff has been polarizing our national and global environments, our cultural and political conversations. I felt introduced to this subject by the gospel lesson for this morning, and by a couple of things that I have seen and read in the news of late. I’m aware that, in the time I have, I can only introduce this subject, I can’t really unpack it. The best outcome I could hope for might be stimulating further thinking on your part and prompting some further collective work for all of us to consider. Cathy read just a few verses from Mark this morning that pick up a bit of the story of Jesus’ trek to Jerusalem. The disciples report that someone outside their group was caught healing in the manner of Jesus and they told him to stop because, as they said, “he was not one of us!” But Jesus tells them not to stop the man, for “whoever is not against us is for us” and all acts of compassion regardless of their origin will be remembered by God. I suppose there are a number of ways of coming to a definition of fundamentalism. My take is that fundamentalists are very big on determining just who is one of them and who isn’t – who belongs and who doesn’t, who’s in, who’s out. That’s one of their most pressing concerns. It’s important in the here and now, and it’s also very important in the sweet by and by. We don’t have time to unpack these belief structures, but we know they draw very hard boundaries and they’re pretty confident about who speaks for God and who doesn’t. Now, all of us have boundaries. If we didn’t we wouldn’t possess an identity. We have boundaries personally, and we have them corporately in a variety of ways. This church has boundaries. We’re Christian, not Hindu. We listen especially for the spirit of Christ and work out the depth of the spiritual life as it has been passed down for centuries by others who have also listened for the spirit of Christ. Thus the name on our building and our constituting documents: Christ Church. Of course, I would hope a Hindu would feel the dynamic hospitality of Christ Church without so much as one skipped beat. I would hope the Hindu, Buddhist, atheist, agnostic – you name it – would feel a warm embrace by our community, so that they knew they were loved and valued just as they are. In part, I would hope that because I believe that reflects the deep truth that Jesus taught and lived. I think of this as part of my Christian identity – that I share a common genetic heritage with a Hindu brother or a Buddhist sister, or an atheist cousin for that matter. And, that I fully recognize acts of compassionate love are done every day beyond the confines of our marble walls, without the name Christian attached by any number of persons. And, that wisdom exists in our world that never employs the name of Jesus. I recognize and accept this, in part, because Jesus surely did. He most certainly did not have as a measure of a person’s worth whether or not they currently held to proper theological, cultural or political positions. Story after story, parable after parable tell the tale on this. On very many occasions, indeed, on nearly every possible occasion, Jesus opted for inclusion as much as possible. Our brief story this morning is one very small, but telling example. And, it’s not lost to me that Jesus’ most virulent critics were various religious leaders of his day who knew for certain he didn’t belong to them. And we know what happened as a result. At his death, he didn’t even belong to his disciples. All of this helps form my faith. On the world’s stage, truth claims compete for allegiance. I have landed here not because I believe it’s about as good as anything else, but because I believe this captures something larger, or truer about life and meaning. Actually, I really feel this truth has claimed me. At the same time, I am very aware of the breadth of my ignorance and the power of my own doubts. At their best, doubt and ignorance keep my faith truer than it might otherwise be; they allow me to hold what I believe with open hands as opposed to clenched fists. I learned this week that British evolutionary theorist Richard Dawkins has a new book coming out titled, The God Delusion. In it, according to his web site, he "eviscerates the major arguments for religion...and shows how religion fuels war, foments bigotry, and abuses children…"[1] Dawkins is described as an evangelical atheist. As a matter of course, I think a more accurate descriptor would be fundamentalist atheist. I say that because of his vitriolic and supremely closed-minded attitude. That’s not to say he doesn’t score points. For instance, he reminds us that “in November 2005, the citizens of Dover, Pennsylvania voted off their local school board the entire slate of fundamentalists who had brought the town notoriety…by attempting to enforce the teaching of [forms of creationism]. When the television host and so-called Christian commentator, Pat Robertson, heard that the fundamentalists had been democratically defeated at the ballot, he offered a stern warning to Dover: ‘I'd like to say to the good citizens of Dover, if there is a disaster in your area, don't turn to God. You just rejected him from your city, and don't wonder why he hasn't helped you when problems begin, if they begin, and I'm not saying they will. But if they do, just remember you just voted God out of your city. And if that's the case, then don't ask for his help, because he might not be there.’"[2] No doubt you will remember how Robertson and Jerry Falwell initially interpreted 9/11 as God’s retribution for a wayward nation. The collateral damage of innocent life was the price we paid at the hands of God’s enemies so God could make his point with us. Fundamentalists come in all forms, shapes and sizes. There are Christian versions as well as Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, atheist, secularist, scientist, etc. What fundamentalists fundamentally do is nail down their belief systems into claustrophobic environments where only they and their kind are evidently able to breathe the air. Everyone else is at best a misguided fool and at worst a deadly enemy. No question that some versions are more toxic, more deadly than others. Take what’s described as Islamic fundamentalist jihadists who ascribe suicide bombing of innocents as part of living out one’s holiness. Surely that is awful religion. Not unlike the religion of so-called Christian bombers of abortion clinics. Truth claims do compete for our allegiance, for our hearts and brains. It really does matter what one believes, which can seem quite troubling for some in our culture who are more comfortable with the idea that every truth claim is pretty much equal to every other one, or that every religion is pretty much a mess, so best to just keep one’s head low and eyes closed and sort of muddle through. Now, I believe that everyone has a religion whether they admit it or not. Everyone has a central organizing principal around which they pattern their lives. And everyone has their rituals of obeisance to their god or gods. If it’s not some named god, then generally the self sits on the throne. I hold that addressing this religious question is the most important thing a person does in life. And it’s best if this is done with conscious awareness and intention. I have some passion around this. I have a passionate, heartfelt faith as well. And, I want to assure you that it’s possible to have a passionate, heartfelt faith and not be a fundamentalist. I think this is a current problem for many of us. All the vitriol in our culture, all the presentation of various fundamentalisms that saturate our media from the right to the left, from religious to secular, are making many of us nervous about claiming our own healthy religious perspective, our own faith, our own identity. And this is bad, not only for our own sakes, but for the sake of truth in our culture. If passionate, open, progressive religious people keep quiet, the net result is that we let the fundamentalists of every stripe determine the shape and content of the public conversation. Surely, that’s not good. There’s too much at stake. For one thing, the essential message of Jesus is lost. The central message of seeking to love God and one’s neighbor as oneself is lost in a cacophony of sound-bite mortar fire between hardened, intransigent camps. Truth loses. Yes, truth as I/we understand it. But, that understanding is at least as valid as the closed up fundamentalisms that are running roughshod over our culture. Our day calls for a re-discovery of what binds us together, a re-discovery of the profound yet simple truths that undergird human community, a re-discovery of our common good. I believe Jesus reveals, teaches and inspires these things. He does this not with a message of exclusion, but one of inclusion. Yes, there are boundaries around this profession of faith. But these boundaries are less about keeping people out than claiming who we are; there is a radical difference between these definitions of a boundary. So, today we celebrate World Communion Sunday. On this day we remember that persons all over the world will be gathering around this same table, all sorts of cultures, races, ethnicities expressed in an astonishing array of languages. When we’re at our best we remember that this is a table of hospitality for any and all who would dine with Christ. It is not a table of exclusion, but of inclusion, of invitation. Not everyone will come, of course. There are billions of persons in the world who eat at other tables. But the invitation remains. And, having our spiritual hunger sated here, we are emboldened to make our way in the world as persons formed by a testimony to the radical hope that everyone shares a common spiritual genetics. This is no goo-goo sentimentalism or wimpy religion. The trajectory of Jesus’ own life reveals this. His life was on the line for this message. And, I suppose this would be so for his followers as well. This is our way in the world; a way of passionate, exuberant faith, challenged and made honest by doubt, as we grasp the hands of anyone who is open to an ever-expanding understanding of truth and who strives to live by the rigorous code of love. _____________________ Previous sermon: On Dreams of Greatness • Next sermon: A Quiet, Bold Witness All past sermons |
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