Get Up Off Your Knees

by Cody Keenan on March 4, 2007 in Opinion

Anyone who’s known me for much of the past decade would be surprised to find that I was a devout Christian in high school. One night a week and five weekends a year, I joined my peers in lifting hands and eyes heavenward in praise and song. I tried to bring in as many classmates as I could. I taught church school, I read the Bible cover to cover, and I twice delivered the sermon at my church preaching the message of spreading Jesus’ love.

But somewhere along the way, I got lost. Or rather, religion lost me.

Between the politicization of religion and the requisite adherence to narrow dogma, it wasn’t for me anymore.

Recent events rekindled my frustration. A few weeks ago, the top bishops of the Anglican Communion held their decennial gathering in Tanzania to discuss church direction and outreach. But one issue heavily dominated the meeting. In 2003, the Episcopal Church, the Anglican denomination’s American branch, consecrated the first gay bishop in all of Christendom. The growing rift over the American Church’s views on homosexuality assumed center stage.

Adding fuel to the fire, the Most Reverend Katharine Jefferts Schori, who last year was elected the first woman to lead the Episcopal Church, not only supports the new bishop’s consecration but also the blessing of gay couples. And so at the conference, seven bishops led by an archbishop from Nigeria and a bishop from Tanzania refused to take communion with Jefferts Schori in protest of her views.

I would think there are more urgent obligations on the African continent and across the globe, like genocide, famine, rape, AIDS, poverty and disease. Instead, they chose to focus on saving the American Church from homosexuals.

Exactly which missions are more Christian and worthwhile?

As an Episcopalian, I’ve always been proud of the denomination’s liberal stances on issues of equality and social justice, from poverty to homosexuality. But this institutional infighting detracts from important work to be done and ultimately pushed me away from organized religion.

The perpetually cited Leviticus 18:22 - just one short verse - forms the cornerstone of so much Christian infighting. Harvard’s own Reverend Peter J. Gomes - one of the finest preachers anywhere - would call this bibliolatry, a word he coined to describe the abuse of scripture for political or self-serving means. And I’d be guilty of it too, were I to point out that Leviticus has it in for me as well: I’m not okay with slavery (25:44), I’ve gone to church despite my poor eyesight (21:20), and I love clambakes (11:10).

My point is that we’re missing the point. What it’s really all about is in Matthew 25: 31-46. Jesus told a parable that in the end, all people will be separated to either God’s right hand or his left. Those at the right hand of God will enter the Kingdom of Heaven, while those at His left hand are doomed to eternal punishment. Why? Because they are sinners? Or not faithful enough? Or gay?

No. It’s because those at His right hand fed the poor. Housed the stranger. Aided the sick. Visited the prisoner. The others didn’t. Thus the verse, “whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.”

That’s all it is. The keys to salvation and damnation in fifteen verses. It’s about His tribe - the poor, the sick, the prisoners, the tramps, the marginalized, the meek, the last. It’s not about doctrine or dogma, success or one’s sex.

Any remaining faith I have is fed by my passion for social justice. That’s why I came to school here, and I suspect many reading this column came for similar reasons. The 37 million Americans in poverty. The one in six American children who go to bed hungry. The 45 million uninsured. Those worldwide living in fear of genocide or disease or under a dictator’s oppression. The unfinished battles for civil rights. It’s what we are working to solve at this school. Whether atheist or evangelical, this is the right work.

Anyone who’s known me for much of the past decade would be surprised to find that I still pray on occasion. I’m often surprised too. I rarely visit a church anymore. But I find that in those moments when faith aligns with social justice and the idea of service, I might catch a little of that old feeling.

Comments

Got something to say?