Spirituality
of the barricades
Most
mainline religious communities wallow in stale liturgies and rituals, what he
calls theatrics, and have become socially, politically and culturally
irrelevant. The dwindling numbers of these congregations rarely leave their
houses of worship—which often are little more than social clubs for the elderly
or the elites—to join the struggle in front-line communities or in groups such
as Back Lives Matter or Occupy. He calls the outreach by most religious
institutions largely meaningless, little more than a “patina of social
service.” (Chris Hedges’ column, “Pray with your Feet,”
speaking with retired Episcopal bishop, George Packard, Truthdig.com, originally
posted November 15,2015 reposted August 30, 2016). Packard had joined a “foot
protest” against another energy drilling project, near a nuclear waste storage
site.
Hedges continues:
It
is only the outlaws who will save us. And it is only among outlaws that
Packard’s religious faith makes sense. The bishop in his church in the streets,
worships surrounded by many who do not consider themselves religious, but who
he sees as carrying the spirit and passion for justice and commitment to life
that embody the essence of his faith and mine. Spirituality, he knows is found
on the barricades.
The “spirituality of the barricades” may be something
of an American initiative. Their country, founded and raised on rebellion,
continues to see street protest as an integral arrow in its political quiver.
Free speech, including even the most venomous speech, constitutes the staple in
Trump’s political rhetoric. In Canada, on the other hand, born of smaller
conflicts, and raised under a constitution that enshrines “peace order and good
government”, we tend to prefer (or at least have for most of our history, with
notable exceptions, including the recent physical and verbal protest of the
National Energy Board hearing in Montreal) more moderate, less physical and
more modest means both of celebration and also of protest. Nevertheless, the
question of taking our spirituality to the barricades, where we will inevitably
meet and get to know those who fit Packard’s description of fellow protesters,
hangs over us.
It was former Primate of the Anglican Church of
Canada, The Right Reverend Ted Scott, who stood shoulder to shoulder with First
Nations people when the logging companies threatened to clear their land. His
example, model of leadership and foresighted courage, “his spirituality” to
stand with the voiceless, has not found many followers in either Canada or the
United States. We did not hear many church leaders complain publicly when
Dudley George was murdered at Ipperwash. We do not hear many religious leaders
speak publicly when the rivers flowing out of the tar sands in Northern Alberta
are flooded with toxins in support of the First Nations communities whose water
has been compromised. In fact, we have heard barely a whimper of protest from
religious leaders about the literally hundreds of First Nations communities
that live under “boil water” restrictions and have for decades. It is, in
Canadian parlance, “not seemly” to become so politically vociferous. It would,
perhaps, or maybe certainly, outrage the corporate suits who write the cheques
that pay for the stained glass windows, the new organs, and the heating bills
that keep the pews warm.
And perhaps even retired bishop Packard feels so
compelled to join the foot protest following his formal retirement, when the
pressure from peers is no longer a major factor in his decision to protest.
There is a kind of separation, in many religious communities, between the
activities of the “church” including the liturgy, the eucharist, the hymns, the
church education program, the choir and its rehearsal of the music of Handel’s
Messiah, for example, and the activities of the citizen as political citizen.
There is a history of community leaders, many of them “deeply churched” who
have also been the publishers of local community newspapers. And their
editorial judgements have clearly been scarred deeply by their conviction of
“not unsettling the establishments” in those very communities, thereby
contributing significantly to a “conservative” and one could argue, “passive,
resistant and compliant” political culture.
And there is also a history of
church leaders who rise in prominence in local community “respect” simply
because they are “good church people” for attending and taking leadership roles
in their churches. Many of these virtuous local icons, however, can be found
leading protests for justice, although the public knowledge begging for such
protests is widely disseminated, and they would have to be living under a rock
not to know how serious those issues are, were, and likely will continue to be,
without their taking concerted action.
I recall, with disdain, one church lay leader of my
acquaintance, who proudly led the “No” campaign on a plebesite to determine
whether alcoholic beverages would be served with meals in local dining rooms. That
was 1961; as you have already guessed, the “Yes” side won. For decades now, I
have waged a personal campaign to reduce both the numbers and the ferocity of
the born-again fundamentalist crowd, cloned, at least in my view, as models of
the late, and not-so-great Ian Paisley, he of so much infamy as leader of the
protestants against the Roman Catholics in the “great troubles” as they have
become known. In different space on this blog, the case has already been argued
against the perverted theology of one of his clones, the clergy in whose church
I was, I am ashamed to admit although long before his arrival, baptized. The
church leaders of his “watch” were local businessmen whose reputation only grew
after their conversion.
Inspired by Archbishop Scott, I naively ventured off
in search of an inner self, thinking that I might be helped by a stint in both
seminary and in pastoral relations, considering the obvious and demonstrated
need, especially or men at forty-five who have been emotionally shut down since
childhood, and who, inspite of working at least fourteen-sixteen hours each
day, did not experience the kind of satisfaction and “meaning” they considered
worthwhile and achievable. What I found were more conflicts between the
“fundies” as they were the known, and the “liberals” as we were insulting
dubbed, There were also some cursory looks at both scripture, including Greek
and Hebrew, some philosophy of religion, a little psychology of religion, a
little church history, some “holy hand-waving” as we called it, and along with
a few stints as interns in parishes. There was no course or any attention given
to conflict resolution/management, no celebration of the prophetic voice of
ministry, no comprehensive examination of the current cultural issues facing
both the church and the political culture and nothing even close to resembling
the kind of praying with your feet being championed by both Hedges and Packard.
I do recall one homily in the Trinity College Chapel,
delivered by Stephen Lewis, formerly leader of the Ontario New Democratic
Party, and also Canada’s Ambassador to the United Nations, more recently
leading his own foundation working feverishly to stamp out AIDS in Africa. I
also recall spending an evening at Holy Blossom Temple listening to the
recently deceased Jewish survivor of the Holocaust, Elie Wiesel. Another
memorable evening occurred while listening to Sister Mary Jo Leddy who has
spent much of her life and ministry helping refugees from war-torn,
disease-stricken, poverty-ridden countries find a new home in Canada.
I was not familiar with the Paul Tillich scathing
criticism of churches as fundamentally evil, so fixated on their own survival,
growth and reputation until quite recently. However, since graduating and
serving inside the church for a decade-plus, I have worked in parishes whose
trust account had, in one case, a half-million dollars, without an active
parish ministry to the poor, the voiceless, the homeless, all of whom were
living within a stone’s throw of the gothic building where people worshipped
every Sunday. I have also served in churches where a bare minimum of that
“patina of social service’ was considered historic. One such example, was a project
to collect soft and cuddly toys, animals to be shipping to war-torn Bosnia, in
the late nineties. It was the first such “social justice” ministry undertaken
by that small mission for decades if not forever and they proudly told anyone
they met the total of some 2000+ stuffed animals were donated, collected and
transferred to an agent for shipping overseas. Another act of prophetic
ministry I was honoured to witness featured a near-homeless man purchasing unsold
and out-of-fashion stock from a shoe retailer for 25cents a pair, and then
selling them on the street corner at $.50/pair, and giving the proceeds to the
church. The other members of the parish were dumbfounded at the sight of this
little project.
There are countless examples of phone calls of
commiseration, sympathy, comfort and empathy that are exchanged every day
between and among church-goers, most of whom have know each other for decades,
if not life-times, as they have clustered close to their ancestral
neighbourhoods. However, millions have moved far from their ancestral homes,
leaving their circle of neighbours, friends, business and professional
colleagues and some have tried to penetrate the strongly gated communities
known as parish churches.
“Gated communities” is not a phrase used flippantly.
In every church in which I have worshipped or worked, there are gate-keepers,
guarding the mostly cultural conventions of that church community, from how to
fold the linen for the eucharist, to how to serve the eucharist, to how to collect
and count the money, to how to greet and to welcome newcomers….a skill, by the
way that can make or break a parish’s future growth.
And future growth, that corporate profit and loss
stereotype, underpins every church parish on the continent, if not on all
continents. And the way to measure “growth” is the normal corporate method of
counting both dollars and numbers of seats in pews each Sunday morning. Churches
that are mired in such a superficial “accounting” are, by definition,
committing themselves and their futures to the control, the policies and the
perspectives of the accountants. Money rules in such a culture, and anyone who
think that ministry should be the primary goal is considered “airy-fairy” and
out of touch with reality. So it is a very long stretch from a small local
parish to a spirituality of the barricades given the fear that, if the people
of the parish take a stand, especially
by protesting a local issue supported and sponsored by the establishment, and
thereby offend that establishment where the money is housed, that their stream
of cash will slow to a trickle or perhaps even dry up, and the church doors
will close.
Churches “siamesed” to the corporate establishment in
Canada at least include both the Roman Catholic and the Anglican. In the United
States, the Episcopal church certainly holds a prominent positon in the
footings of the U.S. corporate establishment. And, it is from this
‘establishment’ background that Bishop Packard emerges. Most would not think of
linking people like Bishop Packard to the former Bishop of Durham in the Church
of England who fought so vigorously for miners when their working conditions
and pay scale were being threatened.
There has been considerable contamination to the
concept of the “prophetic voice” of the social gospel, the former having been
suborned by the right-wing fundamentalist evangelical churches in the United
States. And there is a considerable divide between the ‘christians’ who speak
of being “saved” through grace, and those who hold that no one is ‘saved’
unless and until all are free from any of the many shackles both inherent and
imposed…and these people are also among those who think one “livs” one’s faith.
Praying with one’s feet would be a commendable even honourable way to practice
such a faith.
The other difference today from previous decades, and
more importantly centuries, (and the churches are stuck in their own history
and tradition more than even the academics and the banks) is that we are far
more aware of the issues facing the planet, the issues contaminating every
stream and river, in each parish, and the evidence of the breakdown in
corporate integrity that are snakes in the grass of every family, every town,
and every country….whether we like to admit it or not.
Faith and ministry, then, takes on a whole new and
different face, meaning and justification. There is a Biblical adage that holds
“surrender unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, surrender unto God the
things that are His…..and that line is quickly and unshakeably blurring…given
the ethic that one’s life carries responsibilities that bridge the public and
the private domains of one’s life.
Whether or not Bishops like Packard would even be able
to penetrate the conscience of the corporate “suits” whose obsession with
corporate profit and personal ambition have no limits, is a far different
proposition from the one he is pursuing in “praying with his feet.” And, for
the record, the former goal is a subject that ought to be the curriculum of
every seminary and theological school on every continent. Seminary postulants
need to be guided in the mysteries and the theories of conflict resolution and
also in the ministry of transformation, not only of social and economic and
political structures, but also of the human heart and mind.
The priests who taught “Liberation Theology” in the
fields of South America, basing their instruction and their lives on those
passages of scripture that so directed their transformative political theology.
Of course, the Vatican objected, fearful that their ministry would offend the
political and economic establishment. This is not a new nor an insurmountable
conflict.
And the sooner the churches abandon their enmeshment
with the corporate culture and its mercenary values and aspirations, the sooner
the churches will return to the work for which they were intended. However,
once again, let’s not hold our breath waiting for such a metamorphosis. It will
take, quite literally and metaphorically, an act of God, for that to
happen….and those acts of God will take an army of Bishop Packards and Chris
Hedges and thousands of others to being to fruition.