My Election Day Sermon

I don’t know how I could have possibly gotten through seminary without learning about the colonial New England custom of the Election Day sermon. It’s a fascinating bit of our history. Sermons back in those days were preached at all significant public events—anniversaries, thanksgiving days, fast days and election days. Most colonial ministers did not mix religion and politics on Sundays. However, when they were asked to preach an "Election Day sermon," it was very different.

Election Day sermons followed a typical pattern (which generally lasted over two hours!). First, they asserted that civil government is founded on an agreement between God and citizens to establish political systems that promote the common good. Scripture states that government is necessary, but theologically we know that no human-led system is perfect. Second, the people were encouraged to promise to follow those they had elected, and those who were elected were to promise to act for the good of all. As long as elected officials acted "in their proper character," citizens were to obey. On the other hand, if rulers acted against the terms of the agreement, people were “duty bound” to resist.

In all civic actions, voters and officials were charged to promote virtue, suppress vice and support people of "proven wisdom, integrity, justice, and holiness." As we approach Election Day 2012, we might still do well to measure our actions by these criteria.

One way we might do that is by refusing to bear false witness against our neighbor who might be making a different choice that we do in the ballot box. These are difficult and challenging times for our local communities, our country, and the world.  Divisive and heated rhetoric dominate the public dialogue, and the power of money is shutting out the voice of the average voter.  More and more people are withdrawing from engagement in the political process out of a growing sense of cynicism and mistrust.

In an age of partisan politics, what we need are more bridge-builders and conversation-engagers. As people of faith, we can play a unique role in this election cycle by encouraging civil, respectful dialogue that builds community and offers a hope-filled vision of the future for all people. May it be so, friends, and may it be soon.

The Loom of Democracy (Chapter 4)

You might know where my head is at by my admission that the first time I read the title I thought of the usage of loom as a verb, as in "to appear to the mind in a magnified and threatening form". Perhaps that is because everywhere we turn it seems that someone is trying to make me more anxious and something than I need to be in that moment. As I continued to read, however, I became more convinced that Parker was in fact using the noun form, as in, the machine that weavers use to weave fabric out of threads. This, of course, makes much more sense.

Democracy is designed to hold tension and dissent so that divergent problems can be addressed creatively. Some of us may feel that creativity slipping away. I'd really like someone who is involved with politics more than I am to weigh in on this. Is this creative tension a good thing? Can you tell us a story of reaching across the aisle to enact positive change?