Foundry UMC DC: Sunday Sermons
Religion & Spirituality:Christianity
Losing My Religion
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC October 20, 2019, the 19th Sunday after Pentecost. “Fearless Generosity: Deepening Faith” series.
Text: Jeremiah 31:31-34, Luke 18:1-8
In 1991, a song called “Losing My Religion” was a gigantic hit for the alt-rock band R.E.M. I wasn’t one of those super cool people who already knew the band—but I loved this song and became a fan. It became a thing to try to figure out the images in the music video and what in the world the lyrics meant. There are lots of theories. But this past week, I did some intentional digging to see if there was insight into the original meaning of the lyrics. What I learned is that lyricist Michael Stipe simply wrapped evocative religious and poetic imagery around an old southern expression—“I’m losing my religion.” The expression means being at the end of one’s rope, and the moment when politeness gives way to anger.[i] Imagine a friend recounting an experience at the DMV, for example, in which they’ve carefully prepared all the documents they need to accomplish their task, they explain how they waited in line for over an hour, got checked in, waited in the holding area for an hour, and when their number is finally called, are blandly, dismissively told that they need a document that hadn’t been mentioned anywhere on the website; and your friend closes by saying, “by the time I demanded a supervisor’s intervention, I was losing my religion!”
It is interesting to me that in this southern idiom religion is associated with being polite, with not being angry, with a sense of propriety. Merriam-Webster defines “polite” in these ways: a: showing or characterized by correct social usage b: marked by an appearance of consideration, tact, deference, or courtesy c: marked by a lack of roughness or crudities…
I’m all for being polite when it is in order. But there are times when being polite is decidedly NOT what is needed. A politeness that is more concerned with avoiding conflict than addressing injustice is not religious. Furthermore, a fake “politeness” when what is going on under the surface is judgment and hatred is hypocrisy. And about that the Judeo-Christian prophets, including Jesus, had some choice words.
But it doesn’t surprise me that there is a strain in our culture that would connect religion to being polite. Even though scripture doesn’t support it, so often religion—that is the communal practices and organized gatherings and beliefs of persons of faith—settles into club mentality, a place where the goal is primarily to avoid anything that might create conflict, to be affirmed in already-held positions and ideas, to feel warm feelings, to check some box that is disconnected from any other noticeable part of our lives. We know that what we profess as “religious” people often doesn’t show up in our priorities. How do we spend time? How hard do we work to see others as beloved children of God? Where do we spend our money? Who gets our support and advocacy? With whom do we stand?
Lord knows we’ve got some easy targets in the public square right now on this stuff—it’s enough to make me “lose my religion!” But I want us to be careful to acknowledge that none of us can claim we get it together all the time. Even when we have the best of intentions we fall into the old Pauline conundrum: we don’t do the good we want, but rather the bad we don’t want. (cf. Romans 7:19) We always need to own our own stuff, but we also need to call out the injustice we see around us. The teachings of Jesus to bring good news to the poor, lost, captive, vulnerable, and oppressed—and to do so through solidarity and with humility and generosity—these teachings are being perverted or completely ignored by many “Christian” voices who are influencing masses of people. On top of that too many churches still support theologies and practices that harm people and the creation. Currently on display all over the place are those who publicly tout their hypocrisy and practice serious theological and biblical malfeasance.
I think that these issues contribute in a significant way to the latest studies showing that people really are, literally, losing their religion. The Pew Survey released within the last few days says, “the U.S. is steadily becoming less Christian and less religiously observant as the share of adults who are not religious grows.” The percentage of American adults who describe themselves as Christian has gone from 77 percent to 65 percent, representing a 12 percentage point decrease over the last 10 years. Not only has the number of those who identify as Christians decreased, the number of people who identify as either atheist, agnostic, or “nothing in particular” has risen from 17 percent to 26 percent over the past decade.[ii]
Politeness that translates into dishonesty and avoidance, hypocrisy, injustice, spiritual violence, and outright scandal—all of this makes it pretty tempting to join those who don’t want to claim the name “Christian.” That name has become, in so many places, a codeword for bigotry, imperial values, and oppression.
Of course, that is the direct opposite of what we find in the Gospel. // Our text from Luke immediately follows a very challenging description by Jesus of false prophets, turmoil, temptations, and distractions, of suffering and confusion both present and to come. “Then,” the story goes, “Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart.” The parable Jesus tells highlights a widow who is in the midst of suffering herself. And this woman is not hiding behind politeness or propriety. In fact, she breaks all the rules. Understand that at the time Jesus tells this story, the widow would have had no rights and simply because she was a woman wouldn’t have access to a judge in a formal procedure of law. Women were restricted to roles of little to no authority; we weren’t supposed to talk with men who weren’t part of our family, or sometimes even appear in public without a husband or father…With all this background we see that the story Jesus tells is “loaded with ironic fantasy. This woman can only cry out to the judge unofficially. Perhaps she calls to him as he passes her on his way to the city gates to judge the disputes and charges of the men for the day. The cries of the woman eventually sway the cold heart of the judge who gives in to her request.”[iii]
The woman’s actions—I call it her “religious practice” of claiming her sacred worth, claiming her voice, and then breaking the rules and advocating for justice even when things were disheartening and seemingly hopeless—that is what Jesus features in this story. By doing so, Jesus affirms the woman’s worth, her voice, her perseverance, and her demand, deeply undermining the unjust exclusions of the time. In addition, this short parable of Jesus highlights the faithfulness of God to respond. That point is made by comparison—if even a jerk will respond to persistent cries, how much more will our God—who loves us!—respond when we are in need?
It seems to me that if more churches included and affirmed among their religious offerings the kind of subversive, life-affirming, justice-seeking practice we see in our Gospel today, some of the growing numbers of folk who “love Jesus but not the church”[iv] might happily reconnect; some others might discover that religion isn’t, in and of itself, a dirty word…some might even find that religious practice becomes a life-giving and encouraging thing.
The larger question bubbling under the surface for me throughout my reflections is this: what is the connection between religion and faith? As I’ve already mentioned, “religion” that does harm or is hypocritical or makes no connection to their daily lives, has led many people to step off the faith train altogether. For others, they’ve held onto faith, but left the church—sometimes not out of wounding but simply because it seems they can practice their faith without the hassle of “going to church.”
I firmly believe that God is with us wherever we are on the spiritual journey, that detours and spiritual dryness along the journey are to be expected, and that we can experience God and grace in ways that deepen our faith in a wide variety of contexts that have no discernable connection to “religion” or church. AND I’m also stubborn when it comes to my insistence that the church matters. I believe that the regular, intentional, organized/disorganized religious gatherings, observances, and practices of a Jesus-centered community gathered around our sacred story, Baptismal Font, and Communion Table are a powerful and even primary way that persons learn how to love and be loved, to take risks and discern when not to, to forgive and be forgiven, to be humble and powerful. And the fact that church is always messy and imperfect and full of a wide diversity of people is part of the way we practice being and becoming more human and able to function in the world as people of real faith and not just politeness. The yoga I have studied over the years talks about practicing the asanas or postures on the mat, but then taking the practice “off the mat” into your life. Church—our shared, public, communal religious life—is the “mat” where we practice so that we can take that practice off the mat and into the world.
Weeks ago as we were making preparations for this Fearless Generosity: Deepening Faith series, I wrote these words: “My heart’s desire is for Foundry to be for you a wellspring of spiritual nurture, challenge, insight, growth, and encouragement—like waters that go deep to the roots of a tree—to help you stand firm in the face of the storms of life and to feel grounded and strong in moments of calm. Whether you receive sustenance through music and worship, service and advocacy, study and exploration, or trusted friendships and community, Foundry offers resources—concrete practices and opportunities—to help you deepen your faith.” That is one vision of how I understand the connection between religion and faith. It’s not that faith can’t exist outside of communal religious practice, but rather that faith may not receive the full range of sustenance required to go to the deepest levels and highest heights without it.
My hope is that our continued strong support of Foundry will allow this congregation to practice and embody the kind of religion that people don’t “lose” but rather seek out when they’re at the end of their rope. I pray that we will financially and prayerfully support Foundry’s efforts to be impolite when we need to speak truth to power and to resist evil, injustice and oppression. I hope our financial support will strengthen Foundry to even more consistently offer opportunities for persons to come to know that they have sacred worth and are beloved children of an ever-present and faithful God.
I believe that there are so many times when people who have “lost their religion” all of a sudden find themselves needing the church. When that time comes, will they find one that isn’t an embarrassment? Will they find ways to learn and practice faith on earth? What will they find here?
[i] Evan Schlansky, “What is the meaning of R.E.M., ‘Losing My Religion,’” https://americansongwriter.com/2019/10/behind-the-song-r-e-m-losing-my-religion/
[ii] https://churchleaders.com/news/364277-latest-pew-survey-christianity-in-america-is-declining-still.html?fbclid=IwAR3SFah1UYoJmIClBNPNY8_zGVXYG_L0-4tLxupv5x1frlK6S8vAI5J7vmE
[iii] Peter Woods, https://thelisteninghermit.com/2010/10/11/why-god-doesn%e2%80%99t/?t%2F
[iv] https://www.barna.com/research/meet-love-jesus-not-church/
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