A Statute of Liberty

The Reverend Paul Roberts Abernathy, Rector

      Though in the midst of winter, it’s not too early to contemplate November and our national quadrennial exercise in democracy as we, the people (with the guidance of the Electoral College!), elect the president of the United States.

      This comes to mind as I reflect almost daily, with inside-the-Beltway fervor, on the progress of the Republican Party’s selection of its standard bearer. I find it fascinating. The debates, at moments, wonderfully enlightening, at others, wildly entertaining. The caucuses and primaries, both opportunities for grass-roots engagement. Even what I view as less savory elements – the influence of large-moneyed interests, the internecine not-entirely-truthful-use-of-an-opponent’s-words-taken-out-of-context, the ensuing charges and counter-charges, and negative advertizing – are manifestations of the participatory freedom of our American life. All of it leading to November when, again, we, the people, choose the one who occupies the highest office in our land, and, some still believe, the world. What a privilege! One, in generations past, in our country, denied to women and people of color, and, worldwide, still withheld from peoples who dwell in the shadows of totalitarian regimes. Let us, then, rejoice in this right and, when the time comes, exercise it with the discretion of our individual discernments.

      Now, in case you wonder (or worry!) whether this sermon is camouflage for a political address, rest assured, it isn’t, save in one larger sense. The word “politic” is derived from the Greek, polis, literally, “city” and more broadly “people”. Thus, politics, at its heart, is less the act of exercising power to persuade or manipulate (despite our customary experience!) and more the art of people relating to one another. Politics, therefore, is the bedrock of democracy (from the Greek, dēmokratia, rule of the people), being one way for people to relate, which involves this paradox: the people, together, acting freely, labor to ensure the individual liberty and equality of all.

      We, Americans, generally, and we of St. Mark’s, particularly, are wedded to this principle. Here, one of the cardinal elements of our communal ethos is our corporate embrace of our right to think and to feel, to believe and to doubt as we, as individuals, choose. Often, someone new to our community will ask me: “Paul, what does St. Mark’s believe?” Typically, among a multiplicity of responses, I say: “St. Mark’s believes that you, as an individual, are to be encouraged to figure out what you believe.”

      There are promises in this approach, among them: welcome and inclusion, liberty and opportunity to dare to be and to become, to think aloud with little fear of condemnation, acceptance and acknowledgement of one’s self (which necessarily does not mean automatic agreement with one’s ideas!). Thus, we mirror American culture.

      There are costs. Individualism, as an extreme form of freedom, is a religion,[1] which exalts personal independence to the exclusion of the influence (or interference) of the community. Thus, when such a circumstance prevails, it is difficult, if not impossible for us (or any group of us) at any one time to move in any one direction or support any one cause. Consensus becomes an unrealized dream. Unanimity, pure fantasy.

      Given this, I ask that we, as a still near the beginning of a new year corporate reflection, meditate on this morning’s scriptures, each in its own way, leading us away from the edge of our extremes.

      Moses declares to the people the word of God, who deigns to be the one who chooses.[2] God, not the people, will pick the prophet from among the people for the people. How un-American! But, after all, as the prophet is that one in community who speaks for God, who better, other than God can be vested with that responsibility?

      Mark, in his gospel, portrays Jesus, who, in his time, is that Moses-like prophet called by God from among the people for the people.[3] How do we know that Jesus is prophet? Because he speaks “with authority”, meaning not only what he says (his teaching is described as “new”, from the Greek, kainos, meaning singularly remarkable and wonderful, something, though heard for the first time, that resonates within as true), but how he says it, not only “not as the scribes”, who taught by memorization and rote repetition, but also with power to silence spirits. (Again, how un-American! Jesus violates the demon’s First Amendment right of free speech!)

      There is a message here for us, especially when we wander toward the extreme of individualism, exalting our personal perspectives, positions, opinions above all else. A message about that tension (internal, simultaneous, and conflicting, sometimes wrenching desires) that is universal (experienced by all people at all times) between personal freedom and communal regard, between self- and other-centeredness. A message, as we like to say functionally, about “staying in the tension”, not moving to either extreme, but rather remaining in the middle, balancing the two, seeking to honor my love of self and my love of all. There is nothing about this that’s easy! Yet we follow one who lived and died in that tension, his crucifixion being the most graphic symbol of being pulled, ripped apart while holding fast to the center.

      I close with a personal reflection. I like my freedom and having liberty to exercise it. To say and do what I want, when I want, as I want, even when aware of the excesses, my excesses. Thus, when I read the gospel, I could not readily see myself. I don’t possess the authority Jesus seems to wield and I am not possessed of demons.

      I’ve seen a man on the street where I walk daily – unshaven, his hair dirty and matted, clothed in filthy garments, draped with a long, tattered blanket, and muttering to himself, at times, cursing madly, gesturing wildly at passersby – who appears possessed of something sickly and sorrowful. I am not like that.

      Yet, the more I thought about it, though still clear that I’m not like Jesus, I did see my face in the demon-possessed man. I am possessed by overweening pride, excessive anxiety about things beyond my control, an unforgiving, grudge-bearing spirit, and, yes, addictions that manifest themselves in unhealthy habits. And when my demons are ascendant, shouting incessantly, noisily in my words and actions, I need for them to be silenced, if not cast out, for they are a part of me. So, I find peace in the authority of Jesus when I can remember that though I like, no, love my freedom, I also love you, thus, must live in the creative tension of the balance between the two.