Tag: church

On The Right Side of History

Pat Liberty

Christian traditions in the United States stand at a crossroad. This is the moment when we need to choose if we are going to be agents of empire or keepers of the Word. This may sound melodramatic, but I am trying desperately to get your attention.

A lesson in history is instructive. According to the US Holocaust Memorial Museum website:

” The population of Germany in 1933 was around 60 million. Almost all Germans were Christian, belonging to either the Roman Catholic (20 million) or the Protestant (40 million) churches. The Jewish community in Germany was less than 1% of the total population of the country.

The rise of Anti-Semitism in Germany was reflective of the dominant culture in most of Europe and had deep roots in Christian history. Misinterpretation of key scriptures seemed to support their prejudices.

After Germany’s defeat in World War I, the rise of Nazism seemed a welcome relief from the Weimar republic. For the most part, the German Evangelical church saw itself as a pillar of German culture and society with a theologically grounded loyalty to the state. During the 1920’s, a movement emerged within the German Evangelical Church that embraced many of the nationalistic and racial aspects of Nazi ideology. Once the Nazis came to power, this group sought the creation of a national “Reich Church” and supported a “nazified” version of Christianity.

The “Confessing Church” emerged in opposition to the nationalist “Reich Church.” Its most noteworthy leaders were Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Martin Niemoller. These two movements created an ongoing struggle for control of the German Protestant church.  

The Roman Catholic church was not as divided largely because nationalism was not as deeply rooted in Roman Catholic culture.” (Edited for length and clarity)

For the most part the dominant Christian church of the 1930’s made an uneasy peace with the rise of Nazism. Concerned about schism, state interference in church affairs and the rise of “Aryanism,” the church kept its head down and avoided confrontation.

In other words, with very few exceptions, it sold out.

In our time, as we face the rise of religious nationalism and an increasingly fascist political system, churches stand at a crossroad. Will our concern for not pissing people off quell our faithful sensibilities about the demands of the Gospel? Will our unwillingness to speak truth to power eclipse our prophetic responsibilities as people of God? Will our stupid and arrogant notion that “it can’t happen here” blind us to the fact that it is happening here?

The jury is out.

We need to speak out against the Supreme Court’s decision to grant widespread immunity to a president. This, in effect, makes the President above the law. This paves the way for policies that stand in opposition to the Constitution without consequence.

We need to educate ourselves about the Heritage Foundation, Project 2025 and other behind the scenes decisions that are unraveling the heart of our democracy.

Mostly, we need the courage to speak truth to power. To stand firm as followers of Jesus and say no to the agenda of a political machine that seeks to undo decades of progress in caring for our environment, caring for our most vulnerable members of society, and reaching for equality for populations that are “othered.” 

The bizarre notion that America is meant to be a nation for white European descendants, to the exclusion and subordination of all others, dovetails with the rise of religious nationalism. (I can’t bring myself to call it Christian.) A very narrow definition of “Christian” is at the heart of this religious nationalism. It is homophobic, fundamentalist, anti-just about everything and firmly nestled within the political machine. They feed off each other and enable each other’s goals.

Oklahoma now requires the bible to be taught in public schools. You can bet it will be a “bible” that leaves out the verses about justice and righteousness and caring for the alien, widow and orphan. You can be sure that proof texting to condemn homosexuality will roll off the tongues of those who teach the lessons. It is a sure bet that there will be one Christology, one definition of salvation and one understanding of church. Other Christian traditions will be demonized, minimized and ultimately silenced by the onslaught of the joining of (some version) of church and state.

In short, if you aren’t outraged, scared and deeply troubled by what is going on, you aren’t paying attention. By the time the German churches realized where their uneasy peace with Nazism landed them, it was too late. Let’s be on the right side of history this time.  

The views in this blog belong solely to the author and do not reflect the position of any religious institution or church.  

And What of These Years?

Pat Liberty

It seems like yesterday I was sweating bullets on a hot June day, wearing a robe that was ten sizes too big which made me feel even more like the little girl imposter. I was certain the role was right for me, but was unsure of how I would grow into it, because it surely felt far too big for me in those moments, just like the robe I borrowed from the pastor across the street.

I stood knees knocking together as my childhood pastor read my vows and I responded, “I will, with the help of God.” I was pretty sure it was only with the help of God that I had any hope of pulling this ministry thing off in any believable kind of way.

It was forty-two years ago today, the day of my ordination to ministry, the office of word and sacrament.

I knelt in the chancel and felt the hands of all the clergy resting on my head and shoulders as my mentor prayed the ordination prayer. I don’t remember a word of it, but what has stayed with me all these years is the feeling of their hands on my body. It felt like all the history of the church before June 20, 1982 was being infused into my being. I was taking my place with Martin Luther, Desmond Tutu, Martin Luther King, Jr., my childhood pastor, my mentor and the millions who had taken vows before me, whose names I will never know. It was the most humbling moment of my life. I was being entrusted with this sacred office, and with God’s help I would find my way through the myriad of paths, as yet unseen, that would become my ministry.

So, what of these forty-two years? I have been a settled and interim pastor, hospital and hospice chaplain, Executive Director of a non-profit, consultant, seminary lecturer, domestic violence counsellor, advocate for survivors of clergy sexual abuse and a few more things I can’t think of at the moment. At times I have felt like I have professional ADD.

What stays with me, however, is not the jobs or roles I have had, but moments that unfolded in the midst of all of them.

I have raged and cried over the church’s abject failure to be the life-giving radical community Jesus envisioned. I have been rendered silent by moments in and outside of worship that were so holy, so powerful that the only response was wide-eyed awe. I have sat with people as they breathed their last breath and felt the holy silence that comes when breath is no more. I have joined people in their most joyous and meaningful celebrations of life. I have sat with people in their deepest sorrow and faith crises, when all I could do was be with them in the land of no answers. I have railed against the minutiae and bullshit of the church and thought it sometimes survives in spite of itself. It has been a wild and wonderful ride, and it isn’t over yet. For that I am so very grateful.

Every day occasions new experiences of the Holy, whether in joy or sorrow. Life continues to unfold in miraculous, marvelous, mysterious and sometimes very strange ways. This life in ministry is pure privilege. To be invited into someone’s life in their most profound moments is a grace like no other. To stand before a congregation, with the prayer that “the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts (as the old prayer goes) will be acceptable in God’s sight and meaningful to those who people the pews. I get to remind people that cubes of bread and thimbles of grape juice are symbols of the life of discipleship to which we are called. I get to say words of blessing and benediction to the flock that is entrusted to my care for this moment in time. I have the privilege of being called pastor, and every time that word rings in my heart, I am on my knees in the chancel with the hands of those who have gone before me resting on my head and shoulders, blessing me into this life which is the greatest gift I could ever imagine.