An Independence Day Reflection

[The following essay was first posted on July 4, 2017]

Photo from Max Pixel

Today on our nation’s birthday, I will spend some time in gratitude for the wonderful country that is the United States. I will not, however, spend any time conflating God and country. The one is a natural human response that anyone might have for his or her homeland while the other is a dangerous move toward the idolatry of nationalism. That danger of conflating faith and patriotism came home to me last Sunday when we sang the soul-stirring "America the Beautiful" in church.

Brian McLaren had a brief discussion on his blog regarding the difference between nationalism and patriotism. He also shared some thoughts with Patheos publishers on the meaning of Christian identity as it related to patriotism in a YouTube video.

God and Country?

My own conflict came to light for me many years ago when I was a Baptist seminary student. I was in school in Mill Valley, just north of San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge – a beautiful environment for learning. While in school, I was involved in youth ministry in a nice suburban church in Novato, California, which is further up U.S. Highway 101 in northern Marin County. 

One Sunday, right before the choral anthem, the pastor (a fine man who had given me some excellent guidance and advice) called for us all to recite the Pledge of Allegiance (it was on the Sunday that fell just before Independence Day). One of my best friends even went up to hold the U.S. flag. In all fairness, my friend was in the military reserves and several in the congregation were military as well. I am sure that they, like many other of my Baptist colleagues, saw no conflict. I, on the other hand, felt like I had been delivered an unexpected side-blow.

During that time of worship which I saw as a time for contemplation and the turning of one’s attention toward God, I was suddenly called upon to stand in allegiance to my country. Of course, I was proud of my country – and patriotic – but to me, in that setting, in that sacred space, the worship of God took precedence above all else. 

I had first begun to parse out the difference between love of God and love of country when I was a freshman in college. I learned in my Western Civilization class about how St. Augustine saw the necessity of reassuring the faithful that their faith need not be devastated by the fact that the Roman Empire was falling apart. He set it all out in his written work, The City of God. It occurred to me that just like those earlier times when Rome and the Church were seen as inseparable, we American Christians too often were conflating God and country. 

The way I framed it for myself then, trying to follow Augustine’s lead, was that if I did not fully separate my faith in God from my love of country, then my faith might not hold up if my country were to fail. More important, I might not properly distinguish the demands of faith vs. the demands of citizenship.

Taking it to the Classroom

It just so happened that in seminary that semester I was taking a field supervision class which met every week to examine issues we were experiencing in church ministry. I brought my dilemma to the group – of having faced the inner conflict of having to say the Pledge of Allegiance in the context of Christian worship. 

In the discussion that ensued, some were surprised that I would have such a conflict. One person said that he saw patriotism as a Christian duty. "What about Vacation Bible School?" someone else countered, "we always lead the children in the Pledge of Allegiance there, in church, while teaching kids the Bible." Another said that I was sounding more like a Jehovah’s Witness than a Baptist (Jehovah’s Witnesses do not believe in saluting the flag or pledging allegiance to the United States since their duty and allegiance should be to the Kingdom of God). 

Later in the week, one of my classmates stopped me to offer a word of encouragement and expressing admiration that I “put myself out there on the line” in the group discussion. I had not seen anything “heroic” in my questions, I was simply bringing forth my own honest discomfort and conflict that had occurred during a time of worship.

A Young Country and an Old Faith

Since those days, I have parted from my Southern Baptist heritage for many reasons. Nevertheless, it remains ironic to me that a group that has made the separation of church and state one of its hallmarks should have conflated God and Country so that the line between patriotism and faith is practically indistinguishable. Our great country is, after all, not even 250 years old while the Christian faith is over 2,000 years old. 

Though I have not been in a position of having to say the Pledge of Allegiance during worship in the intervening years, I still witness the unexamined conflation of God and country, as in the case I mentioned earlier with using "America the Beautiful" as a closing hymn in church. During that service last Sunday, I closed my hymnal and remained silent throughout the hymn. I listened, wondering if perhaps I could make that a prayer for country rather than an exaltation of nationalism in the context of worship. I decided, no, that would be a stretch.  It is a beautiful song that I prefer even over the National Anthem, but for me it does not belong in church.

Love for Country and Peace among Nations

(The following is from a previous Monday Music post on this blog)

The tune "Finlandia" was composed by Jean Sebelius and has been used for other hymns ("Be Still My Soul" is one example). "This Is My Song," by Lloyd Stone, was written when the poet was 22 years old. It was after WWI and the song is a beautiful example of having love for one's country while recognizing the need for peace among the nations. The song is performed here by Indigo Girls.

                    This is my song, O God of all the nations,
                    a song of peace for lands afar and mine;
                    this is my home, the country where my heart is;
                    here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine:
                    but other hearts in other lands are beating
                    with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

                    My country's skies are bluer than the ocean,
                    and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;
                    but other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
                    and skies are everywhere as blue as mine:
                    O hear my song, thou God of all the nations,
                    a song of peace for their land and for mine.

                                                                       ~ Lloyd Stone



-

Some Thoughts on Independence Day

Photo from Max Pixel

Today on our nation’s birthday, I will spend some time in gratitude for the wonderful country that is the United States. I will not, however, spend any time conflating God and country. The one is a natural human response that anyone might have for his or her homeland while the other is a dangerous move toward the idolatry of nationalism. That danger of conflating faith and patriotism came home to me last Sunday when we sang the soul-stirring "America the Beautiful" in church.

Brian McLaren has a brief discussion this week on his blog regarding the difference between nationalism and patriotism. Also this week, Johnathan Aigner, on his church music blog, Ponder Anew, illustrates some of the danger in linking love of country with worship of God.

God and Country?

My own conflict came to light for me many years ago when I was a Baptist seminary student. I was in school in Mill Valley, just north of San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge – a beautiful environment for learning. While in school, I was involved in youth ministry in a nice suburban church in Novato, California, which is further up U.S. Highway 101 in northern Marin County. 

One Sunday, right before the choral anthem, the pastor (a fine man who had given me some excellent guidance and advice) called for us all to recite the Pledge of Allegiance (it was on the Sunday that fell just before Independence Day). One of my best friends even went up to hold the U.S. flag. In all fairness, my friend was in the military reserves and several in the congregation were military as well. I am sure that they, like many other of my Baptist colleagues, saw no conflict. I, on the other hand, felt like I had been delivered an unexpected side-blow.

During that time of worship which I saw as a time for contemplation and the turning of one’s attention toward God, I was suddenly called upon to stand in allegiance to my country. Of course, I was proud of my country – and patriotic – but to me, in that setting, in that sacred space, the worship of God took precedence over all else. 

I had first begun to parse out the difference between love of God and love of country when I was a freshman in college. I learned in my Western Civilization class about how St. Augustine saw the necessity of reassuring the faithful that their faith need not be devastated by the fact that the Roman Empire was falling apart. He set it all out in his written work, The City of God. It occurred to me that just like those earlier times when Rome and the Church were seen as inseparable, we American Christians too often were conflating God and country. 

The way I framed it for myself then, trying to follow Augustine’s lead, was that if I did not fully separate my faith in God from my love of country, then my faith might not hold up if my country were to fail. More important, I might not properly distinguish the demands of faith vs. the demands of citizenship.

Taking it to the Classroom

It just so happened that in seminary that semester I was taking a field supervision class which met every week to examine issues we were experiencing in church ministry. I brought my dilemma to the group – of having faced the inner conflict of having to say the Pledge of Allegiance in the context of Christian worship. 

In the discussion that ensued, some were surprised that I would have such a conflict. One person said that he saw patriotism as a Christian duty. "What about Vacation Bible School?" someone else countered, "we always lead the children in the Pledge of Allegiance there, in church, while teaching kids the Bible." Another said that I was sounding more like a Jehovah’s Witness than a Baptist (Jehovah’s Witnesses do not believe in saluting the flag or pledging allegiance to the United States since their duty and allegiance should be to the Kingdom of God). 

Later in the week, one of my classmates stopped me to offer a word of encouragement and expressing admiration that I “put myself out there on the line” in the group discussion. I had not seen anything “heroic” in my questions, I was simply bringing forth my own honest discomfort and conflict that had occurred during a time of worship.

A Young Country and an Old Faith

Since those days, I have parted from my Southern Baptist heritage for many reasons. Nevertheless, it remains ironic to me that a group that has made the separation of church and state one of its hallmarks should have conflated God and Country so that the line between patriotism and faith is practically indistinguishable. Our great country is, after all, not even 250 years old while the Christian faith is over 2,000 years old. 

Though I have not been in a position of having to say the Pledge of Allegiance during worship in the intervening years, I still witness the unexamined conflation of God and country, as in the case I mentioned earlier with using "America the Beautiful" as a closing hymn in church. During that service last Sunday, I closed my hymnal and remained silent throughout the hymn. I listened, wondering if perhaps I could make that a prayer for country rather than an exaltation of nationalism in the context of worship. I decided, no, that would be a stretch.  It is a beautiful song that I prefer even over the National Anthem, but for me it does not belong in church.

Love for Country and Peace among Nations

(The following is from a Monday Music post on this blog last year)

The tune "Finlandia" was composed by Jean Sebelius and has been used for other hymns ("Be Still My Soul" is one example). "This Is My Song," by Lloyd Stone, was written when the poet was 22 years old. It was after WWI and the song is a beautiful example of having love for one's country while recognizing the need for peace among the nations. The song is performed here by Indigo Girls.

                    This is my song, O God of all the nations,
                    a song of peace for lands afar and mine;
                    this is my home, the country where my heart is;
                    here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine:
                    but other hearts in other lands are beating
                    with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

                    My country's skies are bluer than the ocean,
                    and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;
                    but other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
                    and skies are everywhere as blue as mine:
                    O hear my song, thou God of all the nations,
                    a song of peace for their land and for mine.

                                                                       ~ Lloyd Stone



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Experiencing Wonder in Worship

(Part 4 in the series Experiences of Mystery and Wonder)

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The Three Paths

In the Bhagavad-Gita, the Lord Krishna explains to the young warrior Arjuna that there are three paths to salvation – three ways to achieve oneness with Ultimate Reality. There is the path of selfless action, the path of self transcending knowledge, and the path of devotion. I’m no expert in Hindu philosophy, but when I first read of the three paths to salvation, I saw parallels in my own Christian experience. One can find examples of commitment to religious life that fall within these three categories. For some, action is primary. We see that in the hundreds of charitable agencies and the social justice committees that one finds in many Christian denominations. For others, knowledge is the key. Theological studies come to mind as well as Sunday school lessons and apologetics. Then there are those who focus on devotion. There are many examples of devotion ranging from daily prayer to public worship to Eucharistic adoration and veneration of the saints.

In my own experiences and observations, I have seen how religious groups will emphasize one or another of the three paths. Baptists tend to emphasize knowledge over devotion and action. Pentecostals and charismatics are stronger on devotion with their emphasis on praise and worship. Catholics often emphasize devotion and action. Liberal Protestants are strong on action and knowledge but are less inclined toward devotion. The Salvation Army stakes its whole identity upon action. What about your own faith tradition? What do you see emphasized? Which of these three paths are you inclined to take?

On the Path of Devotion

In matters of public worship, we tend to structure things to be conducive to the experience of wonder, but that wonder does not happen every time. How many ho-hum church services and dull sermons have you sat through? When that moment of wonder and transcendence does come for you, it may not necessarily happen for your neighbor in the next pew. We treasure those moments when they occur, knowing that it does not happen every day (nor would we necessarily want it to happen every day).

By the time I was a teenager, I wasn’t fully cognizant of the concept of worship or of any particular experience of mystery and wonder to be found at church. My own understanding of wonder in the context of worship was expanded in an unlikely place while I was still a teen.

I had been invited to attend a special service at a local Assembly of God Church. I was assured that I would receive a blessing if I went. The church was a small cinder block building with a tin roof and plain windows that had to be opened in the summer since there was no air conditioning. The first time I went, I didn’t make it to the front door. I was running late and the service had already started by the time I arrived. Because of those open windows, I heard the service before I even turned off the road. Such exuberant singing and hand clapping was going on, my plain vanilla Southern Baptist nervous system was a bit unsettled by all the commotion. I could not see myself walking into that building, so I used the lateness of my arrival as an excuse to turn around and go back home.

Later, I was able to visit the little church and to get there on time. It was quite an experience to say the least. You have to realize that this was the early 1970s before Pentecostals had entered into the mainstream of society. I was 16, maybe 17 years old, and teenagers were supposed to be hip and cool (I suppose that is still true of teens today). These were backwoods country people who worked hard for what little money they had. You wouldn’t have found a professional or a socialite in this group. Neither was there a businessman or a politician among them.

Joining in the Chorus

I looked around at this rag-tag group of country folk. I thought to myself, I am still in high school and probably more educated most people in this room. What in the world am I doing here? I was accustomed to “Holy, Holy, Holy,” and “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” Substantial hymns sung from substantial hymn books. These people were singing Stamps-Baxter tunes from worn out yellowed paperback books. I remember the man who got up to lead the congregational singing. He was a red-faced man with a pot belly and wearing a baggy suit jacket. His idea of directing the congregational singing was to roll up his paperback songbook into a tube and wave it around. To really encourage participation, he began to slap that rolled up songbook into the palm of his other hand as he leaned forward toward the congregation, walking from one side of the church to the other.

After every verse of this one particular song was sung, the song leader directed us to continue with the chorus, singing it over and over. The name of the song was “Some Day.” I had never heard the song before, and have not heard it since, but I still remember the chorus:

Some day, some happy day
From sin, set free;
I’ll live with Christ for aye
Some day, some day.

As a teenager, I wasn’t particularly interested in someday – I was more interested in the here and now. I wasn’t even sure what living “with Christ for aye” was supposed to mean. I don’t know how many times that chorus was repeated, but the red-faced man up front, as well as the crowd in the pews seemed to know exactly the right number of times to sing it in order for it to have the most satisfying effect. While this song was being sung, I was looking around, not feeling any particular kinship with these country bumpkins, still wondering what I was doing there. Then something happened. For some reason, I knew that I should stop being so judgmental and self righteous. For some reason, I said to myself, “You can stand apart or you can join in and see what happens.” For some reason, I decided to join in, singing and hand-clapping with abandon. It was an inner shift that created an inner opening.

Somehow, within the space that those people had created for worship, the possibilities of “some day” cascaded into the “here and now”. I found myself experiencing that divine reality that dwells with us each day. It is part of our breath and bone, present at all times, but often not recognized. We were celebrating that reality together. All of us were caught up in the wonder of a divine and loving presence. I could have missed it, but for some reason on that night I chose to join in with that group of sincere people with whom moments before I had found so little in common. My heart learned something that night. And my friend was right – I did receive a blessing.

Many Avenues

If devotion is your path, there are many ways to get there. Usually it depends upon where you feel most at home. Since I have come to experience liturgical worship, I have found that even within one liturgy there are many avenues. My first experience with liturgy was in the Anglo-Catholic tradition in the Episcopal Church. Later I learned the Roman Catholic tradition, which follows the same liturgy that I had become accustomed to among Episcopalians. My wife and I visited a predominately African American Catholic Church in town. We were impressed that within the same liturgy they took their own music and customs and made the place really rock – it was great! The same was true when we visited the Hispanic Mass at our church – same liturgy, different music, different energy.

Of course, there are many other means to worship and devotion within many other traditions. Sometimes seeing how other traditions connect with the eternal gives one a new appreciation for one’s own tradition.



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