September 30, 2007
4th in
a series on Faith in Public Life
Proverbs 29:18
“Molding the Powers”
If you have
ever heard of the Irish politician and philosopher Edmund Burke who died over
200 years ago, it is probably because of the single quotation attributed to
him, and quoted over and over again. “All that is necessary for the triumph of
evil is that good men do nothing.”
Jim Wallis,
founder and editor of Sojourners magazine
and best selling author, likes to tell people that it is easy to quickly
recognize members of Congress. “They’re
the ones…who walk around town with their fingers held high in the air, having
just licked them and put them up to see which way the wind is blowing.”
But
“the great practitioners of real social change,” he argues, “…knew that you
don’t change a society by merely replacing one wet-fingered politician with
another. You change a society by changing the wind.”[1]
“Changing the
wind.” “All that is necessary for the
triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.”
If all that feels a little intimidating, let me suggest that such a
thought is in fact “good news” rather than “bad.” There really are very few things more
paralyzing, more demoralizing than a sense of helplessness, dogged determinism,
and impotence. To claim a seat at the
table of formative opportunity is to assert that we are more than baggage in
the cargo hold of a plane, but rather voices who help determine where the plane
is headed.
As
we have been acknowledging these last few weeks, we are not the only
voices, and sometimes not the most welcomed ones. Giving
extended and serious thought to this intersection of faith and public life, we began
this series with the Apostle Paul who talked about the value that authorities contribute
as instruments of order, intended by God to provide and protect the public space
for our common thriving, deserving our respect.
But then looking over Moses’ shoulder as he confronted the Egyptian
Pharaoh, we also acknowledged that whenever those authorities neglect that holy
purpose, it is the obligation of good and faithful people to oppose them. And last week we recognized that American public life, as our founders
framed it, is designed to welcome the voices of faithful people, but not defer
to one or another them in particular, or the aggregate of them in general. If our convictions are to prevail, as people
of faith, it must necessarily be because those convictions have proven
persuasive, not because we have proven coercive.
But
speak up we must, for every other voice that seeks a hearing in the marketplace
of ideas and values has a more parochial agenda. Think of the arguments proffered in every
significant debate of our day: financial
profit has its spokespeople; physical or political security certainly has its
advocates; ego and pride never seem to have a shortage of voices, nor do
expediency or comfort or pleasure. But
meaning? Goodness? Intentional stewardship? Mutual well-being?
Plenty will
argue that one course or another will make us money, will keep us safe, or will
make us comfortable; but who is asking questions deeper or more far reaching –
about purpose and fulfillment; about becoming our “best selves” as a
people? If the “good” is about more than
comfort or profit or merely being safe, what, then, are we trying to
achieve? Where are we trying to go?
One
of the wisdom speakers in the Hebrew Scriptures put his finger on the heart of
it just this succinctly: “where there is
no vision, the people perish.” Or, as
more modern translations have rendered it, “Where there is no prophecy,” which is simply another way
of saying “where there is no sense of God’s creative desire,” then “the people
cast off restraint.” They fire off, in
other words, in every direction, like bumper cars at the Fair, doing whatever
seems expedient and satisfying at the time, without concern for their larger
implications. Without some larger sense
of purposeful well-being, the whole fabric eventually comes unraveled.
Which, to
finally say it quite bluntly, but I don’t believe excessively: our world depends on the active and vocal
contribution of those devoted to seeing life from a larger view; indeed, the
well-being of our life together hangs in the balance. We do not control that conversation, but we
have a contribution to make as part of it:
asking questions and asserting values larger and ultimately more
significant than the security of borders and the consumer price index.
So what will
it mean for us to help change the wind?
What will it sound like for us to speak up in ways that prevent the
triumph of evil? Sometime in the 8th
century B.C.E., a prophet by the name of Amos insisted that children of God:
Seek good and
not evil,
Hate evil and love good,
and establish justice
in the gate… (Amos 5:14-15)
To
be sure, those imperatives contain abstractions, the details of which leave
room for debate. William Sloan Coffin,
the late preacher at Riverside Church in New York City, once mused that Amos
was right on target when he said “let justice roll down like mighty waters, but
figuring out the irrigation system is complicated.” [2]
But Christians
aren’t bereft of insight into at least the rudimentaries of that vision. Day after day, Jesus modeled the importance
and practice of translating holy ideas into common practice: taking the time to listen to and hear a
stranger; interrupting his progress to touch the ill in healing ways;
overturning the tables of systems grown distorted and contrary to their helpful
intent; remembering out loud that “it’s not all about us” – it wasn’t even “all
about him.” Justice, compassion, welcome,
forgiving grace.
Y Co-creation
rather than joint control;
Y concern for
the “least of these,” instead of envy for those with the “most of all that”;
Y esteem for
those with the widest heart instead of those with the tightest grip;
Y mutual
responsibility rather than survival of the strongest;
Y concern for
the goose and not just hungry lust for its golden egg;
Y destiny – the
way the world ought to be – more than merely history – the way we have always
done it;
Y deep and
humbling gratitude for all we have, rather than insatiable craving for all
there is to want.
“…to
change the wind, you have to know what direction you want it to move in,” Jim
Wallis concludes, “and that is about vision.”
[3]
…without which we perish.
We have the
opportunity not simply to respect the powers and to keep them separate; but perhaps
the critical, concluding word for us to hear is that we have, as well, the opportunity
to help mold them: in caucuses coming
up; in forums with candidates who come near; through organizations like our own
AMOS group that will convene a major issues forum on Saturday, October 27 at
Plymouth Church to try and immerse ourselves in the matters at hand with an eye
for what lies beyond.
We have a
vision to share. As people of faith, we
have a word to speak about the kind of life that sustains life. But all that is necessary for that life to
crumble and fall into disarray is that good people keep their vision to
themselves. What are the fingerprints
you will be leaving on this life we hold in common? What effect will you have on the prevailing
winds that blow?
Another
prophet put it this way:
Write the vision;
make it plain on tablets,
so that a runner may read it. [4]
Write it,
speak it, or email it to your representatives, but whatever you do, don’t keep
it to yourself. You can help “mold the
powers.”