politics

Memorial on Valentine’s Day

/ Brant Copeland / 3 Comments

MSDHigh

This afternoon I will take part in a memorial service at the Florida State Capitol for the 17 students slain at Marjory Stoneman Douglass High School one year ago.  Here, more or less, is what I plan to say:

There was at time when February 14 meant fun, intrigue, and romance, especially a among the young.  For thousands of Americans, and particularly for the survivors of the shooting last year at Marjory Stoneman Douglass High School, the meaning of the this day has been forever changed.

Jaclyn Corin, now a senior at MSD High, wrote in yesterday’s edition of the New York Times,

There’s not a day that goes by that I’m not reminded of the shooting. When I hear the sound of sirens or fireworks, I’m taken back to that horrific afternoon. For me, Valentine’s Day will now forever be a reminder of loss.

We gather tonight to remember the 17 lives stolen from their loved ones one year ago, the 17 people who bear physical scars from that day, and the hundreds more whose scars, though invisible, are no less real.

Experts in trauma tell us that “the body keeps the score.”  For the rest of their lives, the people affected by that bloody Valentine’s Day will be haunted by the violence inflicted by a single person armed with a weapon meant to be used on the battlefield, not in the hallways of a public school.

The memories of most Americans tend to be short.  By now, if you were not directly connected with the victims of that massacre, you might already have moved on, as did so many after a similar massacre of little children at Sandy Hook Elementary School just before the Christmas of 2012.

Indeed, if it were not for the determined activism of the students of MSD High, we might not even be gathered here on this grim anniversary.

Standing on the steps of the Old Capitol last year, those students pointed their fingers as us, the generations that preceded them, and cried “Shame.”  And they were so right do to so.  Too many of us had given up hope of any success in bringing some measure of sanity to the gun madness that has infected our culture.

Those young people “called BS” upon their parents and grandparents.  They pulled the curtain away from the unholy of holies and exposed the gods our culture worships –the gods of violence, guns, and hate.  They showed us that we had bent the knee to these idols, and sacrificed our own children on their altars.

As we pray tonight for healing and wholeness for those deep, invisible wounds borne by the victims of last Valentine’s Day, let us also repent of the idolatry that set the stage for that terrible loss.  Let us turn in a new direction and work ever harder to change not only the laws, but also the culture, that spawned the shooting at MSD High.

Let us forever banish the pernicious slogan that put “God” and “Guns” on a par with one another, for the two never did, and never will, belong together.

And, as we seek healing, from the God of love and grace, let us also repent.  Embraced by that God, let us also seek the moral courage to do what is right for our children and our children’s children.

The Idolatry of Nationalism

/ Brant Copeland / 2 Comments
John Witherspoon Satue

Statue of John Witherspoon in Paisley, Scotland

The New York Times reports that at a ceremony in Paris for the 100th anniversary of the armistice that ended World War I, President Emmanuel Macron of France rebuked the nationalist impulses that are reshaping the world today.

“Patriotism is the exact opposite of nationalism,” Mr. Macron told world leaders at the ceremony. “Nationalism is a betrayal of patriotism by saying: ‘Our interest first. Who cares about the others?’”

I couldn’t agree more.  Love for God and neighbor is the heart of any Biblical ethic.  The prophets said this over and over in the Hebrew scriptures, and Jesus teaches the same in the New Testament.

The command to love God includes the prohibition of idolatry:

 I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me.

 You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments. (Exodus 20:1-5)

The Reformed Tradition is particularly sensitive to the allure of idolatry.  The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) lists as one of the tenets of reformed theology:

The recognition of the human tendency toward idolatry and tyranny, which calls the people of God to work for the transformation of society by seeking justice and living in obedience to the Word God.

In short, nationalism is a form of idolatry, and out of idolatry flows tyranny.  When we put nation before God, it’s not long before we find ourselves bowing at the feet of tyrants. Presbyterians, of all people, should know this.

It is precisely this “recognition of the human tendency toward idolatry and tyranny” that prompted the framers to build checks and balances into the U. S. Constitution.  We can thank Presbyterian John Witherspoon of Princeton for teaching this to his student James Madison.

Merci beaucoup to the President of France for prompting the theological memory of the folks in my branch of the Christian family tree.

Free to Differ

/ Brant Copeland / Leave a comment

Screenshot 2017-05-09 08.55.41President Trump has promised to “destroy” the so-called Johnson Amendment, which has become shorthand for a provision in the tax code that applies to all 501(c)(3) organizations. Groups that enjoy that most-favored tax status must refrain from endorsing, opposing or financially supporting political candidates.

The law makes perfect sense to me.  Organizations that benefit from what is in effect a public subsidy should not be allowed to function as partisan organizations.

Proponents of repeal of the Johnson Amendment see it as suppressing “religious liberty.”  I don’t see it that way at all.  The law simply limits groups, including churches, from being both a tax-exempt ministry and a partisan political entity.  Nothing in the law bars me, as a Christian pastor, from speaking freely about matters of faith and public policy.  I can certainly praise or criticize those who hold public office.  What I can’t do under the law is endorse candidates for office – at least not in my capacity as the pastor of First Presbyterian Church.

In many ways, this fracas is much ado about nothing.  Only rarely has the IRS gone after churches for overt partisan political activity.  Despite what fear mongers say, the IRS is not poised to pounce on preachers.

Although I have occasionally been asked to endorse candidates for office, it has always been my policy not to do so.  I suppose that, as a private citizen, I could endorse someone, but, as any pastor will tell you, a pastor is never really “off duty.”  I have never endorsed –nor will I ever endorse – anyone from the pulpit.  On the other hand, my calling to preach the Word sometimes leads me to question or praise office holders and their policies.

My Dad, who was a pastor, declined to put a political sign in the yard of the manse.  When he lived in a home not owned by the church, however, he changed his mind.  I don’t put partisan bumper stickers on my car because I use it for official functions.  I don’t want a grieving family of a differing political persuasion to follow my car in a funeral procession, resentful of my politics.  On the other hand, because I own my own home, you might see the odd political sign in the front yard (or several of them.)

This week’s edition of Time magazine recalls the almost-forgotten role that some clergy played in the abortion debate before the Supreme Court’s ruling on Roe versus Wade.  Writer Gillian Frank singles out the courageous acts taken by Charles Landreth, Associate Pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Tallahassee, and Florida State University Professor Leo Sandon.  The first paragraph of her article reads:

“Today I want to speak to The Challenge of the Sexual Revolution, or to The Use of the Body in Regard to Abortion,” declared the Reverend Charles Landreth on, June 6, 1971. From the pulpit of First Presbyterian Church in Tallahassee, Fla., Landreth invited those present to imagine different situations that led to a “problem pregnancy.” Landreth prodded his congregants, asking them to consider what an unwanted pregnancy and lack of access to abortion could mean to an older married woman, a young woman who had been raped or a high-school girl “scared literally to death to tell her staunch Catholic parents and therefore very tempted to run to a quack . . . ”

I recommend the article.  I also give thanks to God for servants like Charlie Landreth and Leo Sandon, who truly understand what “religious liberty” means.

Hope

/ Brant Copeland / 4 Comments

SanctuaryI try not to use this platform to post sermons.  Today, however, I thought I’d make an exception.  Below is the sermon manuscript for Sunday, June 19, 2016.  It’s not the sermon.  A sermon is an oral event which takes place in a particular context and is addressed to an assembly gathered for worship.  These are just the words of the sermon (more or less).

 

12th Sunday in Ordinary Time
June 19, 2016
Psalms 42 and 43; Galatians 3:23-29

Hope

Perhaps your soul, like mine, is weary this morning.  Weary from hearing news reports about the killing of 49 people at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando last Sunday.  Weary from reading  the text messages that came from inside the club as panicked patrons pleaded for rescue and sent their final good-byes.  Weary from watching politicians who have fought so hard against equality for the LGBT community express their new-found empathy.

Weary of the pain.  Weary of the tears.  Weary of the rank hypocrisy. Weary of those who cling to the notion that the best response to all this carnage is to put more guns in the hands of more people.  Weary of the dearth of reason and common sense — in Congress, in the Florida Legislature, and in the public square.

Weary.  Soul weary.  So very, very tired.  As the psalmist says, “ . . . my soul is cast down within me.”

We bring that weariness with us into worship this morning.  We wear it like a mantel.  It becomes our prayer shawl.  The words of Psalms 42 and 43, the psalms appointed for this day, frame our lament:

             As a deer longs for flowing streams,
                   so my soul longs for you, O God,
             My soul thirsts for God,
                  for the living God.
             When shall I come and behold
                    the face of God?
              My tears have been my food
                    day and night,
               while people say to me continually,
                   “Where is your God?”

In times like these God can indeed feel far away, remote from our reality and indifferent to our cries for help.  We would do well if, like the psalmist, we were honest about those feelings.

For many of us, the church is a safe place to bring our weariness, our frustration, and our anger – even our anger toward God.  Here we are able to say to God,

            Why have you forgotten me?
            Why must I walk about mournfully
                 because of the enemy that oppresses me?

We can say this because the psalmist shows us how, because generations have said it before us.  We are not alone in lamentation.  We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.  Church for us is a safe place to grieve.

Not everyone has such a safe place.

Last Sunday, over at Lake Ella, I joined a throng of people for a candlelight vigil to honor the victims of the shooting that took place early that same morning.  Over and over, speakers from the LGBT community told how the Pulse nightclub had become well known as a safe place for that community to gather.  People went there to celebrate birthdays, to announce engagements, and just to hang out with friends.  It was a setting where they didn’t feel judged or out of place.

That teeming nightclub with its loud music and throbbing lights was a kind of sanctuary for Lesbian, Gay, Bi-Sexual and Transgender people.  As unlikely – even sacrilegious — as it might sound, Pulse was a kind of holy place – or if that is going too far – at least a safe place, a place of refuge from “the enemy” of which the psalmist speaks.

For so many LGBT people “the enemy” can be found at their workplace, their school, or even in their own family.  The enemy’s names are Legion, but we know some of them: homophobia, intolerance, condemnation, and bigotry.

As it turned out, Pulse was not that safe place from the onslaught of the enemy.   A man armed with a weapon that belongs on a battlefield, not a on a street in Orlando, Florida, entered that sanctuary with its loud music, pulsing lights, and mostly young, brown-skinned children of God.  The evil he carried out there is unspeakable, and its roots run deep — not only in soil of Islam, but also in the soil of Christianity.

As the vigil on Sunday ended, I conveyed to the organizers an invitation I knew you would want me to give.  “I know you want to hold tomorrow’s vigil on the steps of the Old Capitol,” I said, “but if it looks like rain, the doors of First Church are open to you.

It didn’t rain the next afternoon, but it was so hot outside, the Capitol Police were afraid a large crowd meeting under the afternoon sun would constitute a health hazard.  They declined to issue a permit, so the organizers decided to come here instead

This room was not a comfortable venue for many in the congregation last Monday  night.  For many LGBT people, the word “church” does not connote “welcome,” or “hospitality.”  It means something else. “Church” means those same enemies who broke into the Pulse nightclub last week: homophobia, intolerance, condemnation, and bigotry.

As I stood at the door, I heard one person say to another, “I thought we were supposed to be at the Old Capitol.  Why the hell are we coming to a church?

The gathering last Monday was not a worship service.  There were no prayers, no hymns, no readings from scripture.  My only role was to give a welcome.

I didn’t come to this pulpit.  I just stood down there and told the folks who had packed these pews about some of the history of this building.  I told them about Col. Richard Shine, a slave-owner and elder in this church back in the 1830’s.  The bricks in these walls were made on Col. Shine’s plantation.  The blood and sweat of slaves is mixed into these bricks and into mortar that holds these walls together.

I told them how the slaves had to sit up there in the north gallery.  Their names were entered upon the rolls of communicate members, but they weren’t allowed to sit down here with their white Presbyterian masters to share the Lord’s Supper.

“This has not always been a place of welcome and hospitality,”  I told our guests.  There are many sins of which the Gospel calls Christians to repent, not least of them being the sins of slavery and homophobia. But I wanted our guests to hear this word specifically to them at that moment of their anger and grief: In the name of Jesus Christ, you are welcome.

These things I remember
    as I pour out my soul:
how I went with the throng,
   and led them in procession to the house of God,
with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving,
   a multitude keeping festival.

The memory of worship in the temple at Jerusalem helped the psalmist to find some sense of equilibrium in the midst of his lamentation.  I hope that, looking back on last Monday, some of those gathered here in this place of worship might have received a similar blessing from God.

Long ago, the brand new Christians of Galatia were struggling with the question “Who are we?

Are we Jews?  Are we Gentiles?  Are we misfits?  Do we cling to the law of Moses?  Do we ignore the law?  Who are we

You are children of God, Paul wrote.  All of you – children of God through faith.  As many of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.  The old categories don’t apply anymore.  There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer salve or free, there is no longer male and female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus . . .

            That good news made all the difference to those first Christians, and what was true of them is true of you and me.

The old categories don’t matter. Neither do the new ones:  Jew, Greek, slave, free, male, female, gay, straight, bi-sexual, transgendered.  Important as those categories are outside these walls, they don’t matter here.  Not here, where baptism tells us who we are, where grace abounds, where sins are forgiven, where we look into the gospel mirror and see only the children of God.

When I think of those people who died last Sunday at Pulse, the thought that plagues me most is this:  that some of those people died not knowing that God loves them  — that they, too, are children of God, precious and beloved.

I am haunted by the thought that you and I failed to convey to them and to the world the love and mercy of God made flesh in Jesus Christ.  We let the categories that don’t matter get in the way of sharing the Good News of Jesus Christ.

God will not hold this sin against us, but God does expect us to change.

The psalmist cries: . . . Why have you cast me off?   . . . Why have you forgotten me?  Where is God in all of this?

I know where God was last Sunday. God was in the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida, right in the midst of the terror, the pain, and the cries for help.  Named or not, summoned or not, even called by some other name, the Triune God was there, amidst God’s very own children, made in God’s very own image.

If I did not believe that, the weariness that I bring into this sanctuary today would be the death of me.  It would be the death of all of us.

The psalmist ends his lament with a question and a command, both addressed to himself:

Why are you cast down, O my soul,
   and why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God, for I shall again praise him,
    my help and my God.

There is no neat and tidy way to end this sermon, just as there are no easy answers to the evils that haunt our violence-prone culture.  But there is a way forward, knowing that God in Christ will not forsake us.

Hope in God, beloved.  Remember who you are and hope in God.

 

See this article in the Tallahassee Democrat.

 

Straight Shooting on Gun Control

/ Brant Copeland / 1 Comment

students_safety_secondNext week the Tallahassee Democrat and the Village Square will host a discussion on school safety and gun control.  I have been asked to be on the panel.  Why, I am not sure.  It’s certainly not because I am a neutral party.  Most of my adult life I have been in favor of gun control.  As a Christian I regard the proliferation of guns in our culture a moral evil.  As a citizen I resent the bullying  and fear tactics employed by the gun lobby.

It’s a truism that “God, Guns, and Country” are closely associated with a certain strain of Christianity.  While I respect Christian brothers and sisters who disagree, I find it very hard to conceive of Jesus endorsing the NRA’s position.  The song “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition” was a hit back in 1942 when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, but these days that sentiment makes me cringe.  “WWJP” (What Would Jesus Pack)?  The answer is not found in the text of the Second Amendment.

Even though I have strong convictions about this issue, I hope that the discussion does not end up generating more heat than light.  One of the goals of the Village Square is to provide a model of thoughtful, reasonable discussion of controversial matters.  I’m open to perspectives different from mine and am willing to be persuaded.  I don’t want the discussion to disintegrate into ad hominem attacks and slogan slinging.

Maybe the planners thought a guy wearing a clerical collar would be a calming influence.  If so, they obviously don’t know me well.  Nevertheless, I will strive to treat my interlocutors as I would like to be treated.  I’m sure Jesus would approve of that.

I received an e-mail from a grandmother in Pensacola who is passionate about this issue.  She wants elected officials to:

1) ban assault weapons and ammunition magazines of more than 10 rounds,
2) require background checks for all gun purchasers,
3) report the sale of large quantities of ammunition to the ATF,
4) limit the scope of concealed weapons laws at the state level.

I don’t see anything on that agenda about banning all guns.  I do see what look to me like common sense approaches to a serious problem.  Actions like this will not eliminate the gunlust that plagues our culture, but they might be steps in the right direction.

At any rate, the discussion on February 28 at 6:00 p.m. at St. John’s Episcopal Church ought to be interesting.  I just hope all the salvos will be rhetorical.

God’s Will — Except When It’s Not

/ Brant Copeland / 1 Comment

Theologians have a hard enough time trying to discern the will of God.  When a candidate for the U. S. Senate takes up that difficult subject in the context of a three-way debate, the waters get very muddy indeed.

Last night (October 23, 2012) Republican Senate nominee Richard Mourdock said a life conceived by rape “is something God intended to happen” and must be protected.  All three of the candidates vying for Indiana’s contested Senate seat are opposed to abortion, but it was Mr. Mourdock who asserted that his stand is motivated by his conviction that he knows the will of God in every case of rape.

Mr. Mourdock would make abortion illegal except in cases in which the life of the mother is threatened.  But not in cases of rape.  “I’ve struggled with it myself for a long time, but I came to realize that life is that gift from God,” Mr. Mourdock said. “And even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that it is something that God intended to happen.”

I have to wonder why Mr. Mourdock would allow a woman to get an abortion to save her own life.  Surely if God “gifts” rape victims with pregnancy, God must also “gift” women with pregnancy at the risk of their lives.  It seems Mr. Mourdock not only knows God’s will for most women, he also knows that God alters his will for some other women.

You see the problem.  When lawmakers — especially male lawmakers — base legislation on their views of God’s will, we’re all in trouble –especially women.  If you don’t believe me, ask the women of Afghanistan.

Abortion is an enormously complicated moral issue.  Like Mr. Mourdock, I have struggled with this dilemma, and, although I respect the “seamless garment” argument embraced by Roman Catholic officialdom, I think the decision should be left to the woman in conversation with her physician, her loved ones, and her faith community.

Opponents of abortion tend to present the issue as morally unambiguous.  It’s not.  Simply stating that this – but not that – pregnancy is “the will of God” doesn’t really advance the conversation.  It just paints the people who support choice as opposed to the will of God.

In my lifetime some Christians have maintained that it is the will of God that women stay home to tend house, that “colored” and “white” people remain segregated, and that homosexuals go straight to hell.  God’s will is a difficult thing to discern.  It takes prayer, study, and honest conversation.  Then, with fear and trembling, we make a decision with the knowledge that we could be wrong.

There are days when I wish I had Mr. Mourdock’s moral clarity.  Most of the time, however, I’d say that kind of clarity is more curse than gift.

Not Helpful

/ Brant Copeland / 2 Comments

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.  So do candidates for high office.  During his recent visit to Israel, presidential candidate Mitt Romney ventured into dangerous territory.  In a speech to a Jewish audience he suggested that “cultural differences” are the reason Israelis are more successful economically than Palestinians.

Mr. Romney  also vastly understated the actual disparity between the incomes of Israelis and Palestinians.  He put the gross per capita G.D.P for Israelis at $21,000 and the gross per capita G.D.P. for Palestinians at $10,000.  According to the Central Intelligence Agency, the per capita gross domestic product for Israelis in 2009 was roughly $29,800.  The per capita gross domestic product for Palestinians living in the West Bank and Gaza in 2008 was $2,900.

What accounts for this dramatic disparity?  I am no economist, but I think it’s fair to suggest that the history of Israeli occupation of the Palestinian territories and the trade restrictions imposed by Israel’s government have something to do with it.  One could debate whether those restrictions are justified or not, but even a non-expert like me might be forgiven for thinking that “cultural differences” don’t tell the whole story.

What concerns me most about Mr. Romney’s comments is how they feed the anti-Semitic stereotype that Jewish people are good at making money and obsessed with profit.  The corollary of this racist attitude, of course, is that Palestinians are, by nature, lazy and unproductive.  Both stereotypes are at best uncharitable and at worst dehumanizing.

I’m old enough to remember Southerners opine that “nigras” (that was the polite term back then) were incapable of higher education and high achievement.  Looking back, I shudder to think that otherwise kind, faithful Christians could believe such bunk.  I also remember a church meeting during which an elder spoke of “Jewing down” a bid from a contractor.  He was, quite properly, chastised by his brothers and sisters in Christ.

Anyone who has been to Israel has to admire way the Israelis have brought forth the abundance of the land.  I still can’t get over the sea of banana groves near the Sea of Galilee.  On the other hand, I have Christian friends who travel to Israel to help with the olive harvest because Palestinian farmers don’t have access to olive groves that have been in their families’ possession for generations.  The point is, the Israeli-Palestinian relationship is profoundly, maddeningly complicated.

I certainly don’t have the solutions.  But I am convinced that slightly-veiled racial stereotypes are not helpful.