Along the Way

These reflections illuminating areas of church, Christian and spiritual life are offered in each Friday email by our Plymouth clergy.

The Church Can Still Change

August 19, 2022/in Along the Way /by Elizabeth Blanchette

Rev. Dr. DeWayne L. Davis

“So many progressive church spaces are made up of people showing up, saying they want transformation, but again and again choosing comfort instead . . . the church is filled with people who want the beautiful outcome promised in the Gospel without any of the real sacrifice of change” —Andrew Lang

A colleague sent around an article recently with the provocative title, “Why Church Won’t Change.” It sounded like clickbait, so I hesitated to read it at first, but my curiosity got the better of me. Upon reading it, I wish it was something I could easily dismiss or whose argument I could pick apart. I also wanted to believe that the writer was overstating the challenges or was unaware of the exceptions to his belief that the church will not change. And yet, there is something prophetic about how he truthfully contends with the desire within many churches, especially progressive churches, for social justice transformation without changing anything about our habits, practices, and traditions. There does appear to be a gap between what we desire for our communities and places of faith and the level of effort and sacrifice we are willing to expend to make it so.

But I still believe the church can and will change. I think there are enough of us willing to imagine, experiment, and release in ways that break through apathy, caution, and resistance to experience fundamental transformation. Andrew Lang admits that “we are thirsty for intentionality, a dedication to real justice, an end to platitudes, and deep commitment to exploring the inner life.” This is fertile ground for change. Our intentionality and dedication can transform practices and move resources in ways that inspire change and invite people to take the church seriously again.

I know the church has found its comfort and success in religious tradition, institutional practices, and cultural realities that bind us to the status quo. At a time when our democracy is facing a moral crisis because of the politics of grievance and resentment, white supremacy, and abandonment of norms of political participation and representation, the church may be the last repository of a robust conversation about the work of justice and the power of sacred space to embolden the pursuit of justice. Lang concluded that the work of justice would “form around the dinner table and in organizing circles,” not in the church. But there is no reason the church can’t face its resistance and reluctance as part of doing justice work and making fundamental change. Perhaps that becomes the church’s priority over outsized considerations about growth and attendance: making the church the space for the intentional pursuit of the work of justice, not just talking about justice. It’s about challenging ourselves not to let buildings, committees, and traditions limit our imagination or intention. If we did that, the church could still change.

My Heart Can’t Break Today

August 12, 2022/in Along the Way /by Elizabeth Blanchette

Rev. DeWayne L. Davis

Over the last few months, I have attended several religious and theological conferences. Many sermons, workshops, and presentations have focused on responding theologically and prophetically to intractable problems in our world. Experts and theologians have provided great wisdom that I know will help me address various cultural, political, and economic issues impacting our community. In those conference offerings, there was no minimizing how bad things are nor any attempt to mask or avert the gaze from the horrors of war, racism, and oppression. At a recent workshop, just as I was settling to hear a presentation and began to take notes, I heard myself whispering, “I need a break from the hard stuff today. I don’t know if my heart can take another break.” At that moment, I remembered a poem I wrote after the news of the killing of Philando Castille when I was not ready for one more story of police violence and the killing of another black person. I know the work of justice continues, but I am compelled on some days to say . . .

My heart can’t break today.

I want to take a walk and enjoy the breeze.

I want to sit out on the deck, drink good wine, and tell good stories.

I want to laugh hard and be loud about silly stuff.

My heart can’t break today.

I want to pay attention to the gifts of blue sky, singing birds,

and oddly shaped clouds that look like puppies, Jesus, or one of the Golden Girls.

I want to see old friends and reminisce about bad dates, big mistakes,

and how we overcame them.

My heart can’t break today.

I want to think warmly about people before they profile me, ignore me,

or hurt me.

I want to trust in the ideals and values they taught us in school

long enough to combat the cynicism and hopelessness

of one who has seen too many sad things.

My heart can’t break today.

The weight of hard things has made my heart too heavy.

The distance between the ups and downs keeps shrinking.

I need time to recover, see hopeful things, and hear better news.

No, my heart can’t break today. So, wait to tell me what you have to say to me.

The Power of an Expansive Theological Imagination

August 4, 2022/in Along the Way /by Elizabeth Blanchette

Rev. Dr. DeWayne L. Davis

“Theology that arises from Scripture and from the teachings of Jesus does not allow for the identification and exclusion of the other” —Mark Charles and Soong-Chan Rah, Unsettling Truths

Trolling social media the other day, I saw the latest outrage precipitated by a religious attack on democracy, women’s rights, or LGBTQ people. They come so frequently now and are so similar in their details that any specific story I chose to share would be familiar. As the commenters to the posts discussed the theological reasoning behind each religious persecution, it saddened me to notice that what they were describing revealed a stunted theological imagination, an inability to see within the biblical witness divine resistance and creative response to the ugliness of a fallen social reality. It takes very little imagination to give oneself theological permission to do harmful, self-interested things and maintain a status quo in the current social reality that never liberates or expands society’s social and material benefits to the most vulnerable among us.

I discovered the power of theological imagination early in my life. All of the explanations I received from my parents and church for why going to the movies, attending parties, or prohibiting women from wearing pants arose from a reading of the Bible that reinforced an existing social reality and worldview. Specifically, my church and family had embraced values and practices for organizing and structuring their lives and used Scripture to support and justify them. Therein lies the power and danger of the theological imagination: it can either dull and distort or expand and enliven the social imagination. Suppose my theology permits everything I want, upholds my power and privilege, and imposes the values and practices I’ve constructed on society and culture. In that case, it will be hard for me to imagine an alternative, much less an alternative that mirrors God’s shalom for the entire creation.

A careful reading of Scripture does not easily result in the kinds of diabolical actions and oppressive ideologies humanity embraces to shape and control our social reality. Only a diseased social imagination, beholden to the logic of power, exclusion, and white supremacy, would distort the whole of the biblical narrative to create a social reality that serves only the individual, one race, or one ethnicity. Reading Scripture in ways that stifle the imagination, protect the status quo of inequality and oppression, and reinforce the worst tendencies to hoard and exclude others is a conscious decision. With every encounter with Scripture, we have an opportunity to embrace a theology that inspires covenant and connectivity across differences in race, sex, gender, ethnicity, and religion. I pray that our reading of sacred text inspires us with theological imagination that widens the welcome circle, affirms the dignity of all creation, and includes God’s diverse humanity in the beloved community without condition or compromise. May it be so.