There are some arguments that aren’t worth having. I’m not going to argue with the devil about racism or the appropriate way to protest racism. Especially now, since the devil has outsourced his own brand of evil to bots and trolls working in Saint Petersburg. I’m not going to shout down a white supremacist because well funded Russians with an excellent command of English and knowledge of American politics bought enough Facebook ads to anger both liberals and conservatives. To tell you the truth, I’d prefer not to talk about God with anyone who claims to know God personally. Anyone who claims to know the intent of the founders when writing the second amendment isn’t someone I want to debate. In this moment, when America is swimming in fear, bathing in righteous indignation, and distracted by every new Tweet; I’d like to stop talking to everyone. I don’t know who pushed your buttons. You don’t know who pushed your buttons. Even more, you don’t know who flipped their switches before they pushed your buttons.
Your anger, while seemingly well founded to you, was probably manufactured in Moscow. Why is this so hard to believe? While it’s not the Manchurian Candidate by any means, there are a group of ill intentioned individuals exploiting vulnerabilities in our broken democracy. Maybe it’s just a writer whose idea was sent on a whim and the story was picked up in a Facebook news feed. Once it’s in the feed, the soulless algorithms running the platforms that shape what we see then trigger our basest emotions. The vicious cycle of wash, rinse, and repeat continues. Our knowledge, the weak hold we possess on reality is nothing more than someone else’s ideas that we’ve been led to believe are ultimately our own. If we are angry, it is because we have rightly been offended. This has been the working assumption in a bipolar America. This is not the case.
We have been told to be angry, hurt, and disrespected. If you are not angry, other aspects of your identity as an American are suspect. These are the orders American’s receive 140 (or 280) characters at a time or in various ads and posts. When it happens enough, you start to believe the lies you’re being told, even the lies you know are false. We’re all someone’s puppet if we allow the strings to be pulled or the buttons to be pushed. As the subjects of constant noise, distraction, interference, and emotional manipulation; it is hard for many of us to determine what we believe apart from what we are told we must believe.
Where does the church fit in? The clergy and the church have a history (and a present) of telling people what to believe. Each week, we recite a statement of faith, the Apostles’ Creed. This is a statement of belief. In other ways, we tell our congregations what they must believe in to be considered an orthodox, Bible believing, Jesus-loving Christian. Some would say that’s part of the job. I want to relinquish this part of my job. I no longer want to tell people what they must believe. I don’t want to serve a congregation full of puppets who respond to the emotional strings I pull or buttons I push. I want to cut the cord.
It’s always scared me to claim to speak on behalf of God or claim that God gave me a message. I’m not afraid of many things, but that level of presumption frightens me. So I ask: Is it possible, in worship or through the Eucharist, to clear out the clutter and let the church listen to a God who’s not telling us what to believe but how to experience the kingdom? For this to happen, we have to get out of God’s way, stop pretending we have all of the answers, and start reminding each other of how good it is to be loved.
Richard Lowell Bryant