I struggle with the right relationship between faith and politics. A motto for me might be, "Progress is not necessarily synonymous with the Democratic Party." Yet, sometimes in progressive church circles I get the sense it's one and the same. I believe that a church or other nonprofit organization cannot (legally, to keep 501c3 status), and should not, endorse a particular political candidate. However, a church has a right and an obligation to speak to the issues of the day out of its values, such as "we are to feed the poor, care for the sick, shelter the homeless, and make peace with our enemies." When a piece of legislation is before Congress and has the power to do great harm or great good to creation, then the church has an obligation to speak to the ethics of such a law. This is how we can be responsible, informed citizens--rather than withdrawing from the needs of the world and our structures of power and governance. That's also where I draw the line between theology and theocracy--even a liberal/left theocracy is something I wouldn't want.
A commentor on our seminary blog questioned the UCC giving the floor to Barack Obama during their churchwide assembly. I don't know (I'm Presbyterian and wasn't there) how I feel about the speech as it happened. However, I have some opinions on what constitutes the just relationship between a church denomination and a presidential candidate. Surely a church denomination shouldn't endorse a candidate simply because he's a member of that denomination--to do so is to so easily overlook areas of that candidate's policy that can be harmful to others, in search of the denomination's own power and fame as much as the candidate's. However, I think it's good for a denomination to hear what a candidate of their denomination has to say, to give him or her space in which to articulate what they stand for, so that each member can make up their minds whether this person shares their values or not. The latter is where I would want to see a candidate given so much berth in a whole-church assembly.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Can I Start a Religious Order?
Can I start a religious order?
I've been thinking about this a while, actually several years.
I would describe my call to vocation being that I knew I wanted to be a pastor by the time I was 8, but I'd wanted to be a nun by the time I was 3 or 4. It just seemed like a good idea. Then I heard that only Catholics were nuns, and forgot about it, for the most part.
These days though, I know there's Anglican nuns and Lutheran deaconess communities and Presbyterians who join Benedictine orders. I know I could 'oblate' to any order, but it doesn't quite sit right with me. There are orders I would really like to join as a full sister, but they don't accept non-Catholics, and I like being Presbyterian. There's orders that would accept me as a Presbyterian, but they're far away from the places I seem called to be, set apart from the world and from people. I think I need to be with the poor and oppressed. I think the South Side of Chicago is calling me for at least another ten years.
One question is whether I'm crazy. I could be. Protestants especially would think that anyone who chooses celibacy or poverty is a little nuts, let alone divine obedience. I have worried myself that it's too self-grandiose to start an order. I don't want to be a rock star or cult figure. But St. Theresa wasn't a rock star or cult figure; and neither was St. Francis really, nor Catherine MacAuley (Sisters of Mercy). I asked one sister friend last year how orders got founded, and she said, "Someone got up one day and started them." My friend David here wonders why I don't do just that. I hesitate, but the idea is growing on me.
The next questions are, on what principles to found an order (the 'charism'), and what to call it. Here are the principles that seem important:
--open to people of all faith traditions
--material simplicity; amassing no property, investments, or status
--resistance to militarism
--upholding the humanity of all people
--voluntary service to others, especially the poor and oppressed
--commitment to community and obedience to God
--spiritual support for those who choose to remain single; as well as those who choose to marry
--a spirit of cooperation and friendship with all other orders and groups striving to live out similar values
I've thought of names that strike me as especially meaningful, such as:
Order of Ecumenical Benedictines (OEB), using an inclusive Rule of Benedict
Order of Preachers of Poverty (OPP), encouraging a ministry that rejects the model of "success =bigger church and bigger salary,"
Order of Poor Servants (OPS), following the same model, but emphasizing the ministry of all.
So, I'm still thinking about it. I think about it actually every day.
I've been thinking about this a while, actually several years.
I would describe my call to vocation being that I knew I wanted to be a pastor by the time I was 8, but I'd wanted to be a nun by the time I was 3 or 4. It just seemed like a good idea. Then I heard that only Catholics were nuns, and forgot about it, for the most part.
These days though, I know there's Anglican nuns and Lutheran deaconess communities and Presbyterians who join Benedictine orders. I know I could 'oblate' to any order, but it doesn't quite sit right with me. There are orders I would really like to join as a full sister, but they don't accept non-Catholics, and I like being Presbyterian. There's orders that would accept me as a Presbyterian, but they're far away from the places I seem called to be, set apart from the world and from people. I think I need to be with the poor and oppressed. I think the South Side of Chicago is calling me for at least another ten years.
One question is whether I'm crazy. I could be. Protestants especially would think that anyone who chooses celibacy or poverty is a little nuts, let alone divine obedience. I have worried myself that it's too self-grandiose to start an order. I don't want to be a rock star or cult figure. But St. Theresa wasn't a rock star or cult figure; and neither was St. Francis really, nor Catherine MacAuley (Sisters of Mercy). I asked one sister friend last year how orders got founded, and she said, "Someone got up one day and started them." My friend David here wonders why I don't do just that. I hesitate, but the idea is growing on me.
The next questions are, on what principles to found an order (the 'charism'), and what to call it. Here are the principles that seem important:
--open to people of all faith traditions
--material simplicity; amassing no property, investments, or status
--resistance to militarism
--upholding the humanity of all people
--voluntary service to others, especially the poor and oppressed
--commitment to community and obedience to God
--spiritual support for those who choose to remain single; as well as those who choose to marry
--a spirit of cooperation and friendship with all other orders and groups striving to live out similar values
I've thought of names that strike me as especially meaningful, such as:
Order of Ecumenical Benedictines (OEB), using an inclusive Rule of Benedict
Order of Preachers of Poverty (OPP), encouraging a ministry that rejects the model of "success =bigger church and bigger salary,"
Order of Poor Servants (OPS), following the same model, but emphasizing the ministry of all.
So, I'm still thinking about it. I think about it actually every day.
Ode to a Purple Washcloth
Ode to a purple washcloth in the second-floor shower
(First in a series of poetry on living in a co-op community)
O my purple washcloth, where art thou now?
Once again I leave you hanging high
High above my head, on the shower door
Out of sight, out of mind
in the morning rush.
You are not large of stature, unmissable
like the purple towel
You are not a risk for much embarrassment
like left-behind underpants
No, you are mostly benign
and too often thus you suffer my neglect
Hours later you are lying there
And I, unawares
Go to use the toilet and look up;
there you are
where I left you;
Memory jogged, I bring you home
Only to lose you again the next day.
Le Anne
(owner of a set of purple bath linens)
(First in a series of poetry on living in a co-op community)
O my purple washcloth, where art thou now?
Once again I leave you hanging high
High above my head, on the shower door
Out of sight, out of mind
in the morning rush.
You are not large of stature, unmissable
like the purple towel
You are not a risk for much embarrassment
like left-behind underpants
No, you are mostly benign
and too often thus you suffer my neglect
Hours later you are lying there
And I, unawares
Go to use the toilet and look up;
there you are
where I left you;
Memory jogged, I bring you home
Only to lose you again the next day.
Le Anne
(owner of a set of purple bath linens)
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