WLSU: Permission to Disagree

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“So are there other Republicans at the church?” he asked me. And I laughed.

I laughed because it was a great question, asked directly, and without a hint of irony or cynicism. My breakfast companion was sitting across from me at a local diner when he asked this question. He is getting to know Church of the Redeemer, but he’s been an Episcopalian for his whole life – maybe longer. And as a Republican, he knows the drill. There are, for the record, plenty of Republicans at Redeemer, and in the Episcopal Church. 39% of Episcopalians, to be precise, identify as Republican. Not a small number. But compared to, say evangelical Christians, 56% of which identify as Republican, Episcopal culture simply feels a little more politically liberal. Plus, Cincinnati is a Democratic leaning city in a Republican leaning state. So that skews our congregation’s numbers a bit as well.

I laughed because, it was a lovely, vulnerable question. We live in such a heated and politically divided time. And I won’t even bemoan that. I think it makes sense that things are heated and divided. I don’t like it. But I think I get it. To many people – myself included – it feels as if the soul of our country is currently on the line, and how we navigate these next few years will be profoundly decisive. At the same time, we are getting more and more accustomed to living in self-selected bubbles based on common interest or affinity. So if he’s getting to know Redeemer, he wants to know if it’s a bubble. And that is a vulnerable question, because he’s sitting there over his eggs benedict asking, “Is there a place for me?” It takes courage to wonder that aloud, and it filled my heart with love.

I laughed, because, and I told him this immediately, not two minutes earlier, another Republican parishioner had just texted me to congratulate me on my 8^th anniversary of ministry at Redeemer. “See?” I joked, “Republicans!”

And, yes, I (for the most part) know the political leanings and affiliations of the people who are a part of my church community. I’m their pastor and priest, and I like knowing and loving them for who they are – and not just for the parts of them that make me comfortable.

And politics make us uncomfortable. And I laugh when I’m uncomfortable. So I laughed. It’s worth noting that I was not laughing at my new friend. Not at all. He disarmed me. It was wonderful.

Of course, his question assumed I myself am not a Republican.

People make that assumption a lot about me these days. In the past few years I have become a bit more outspoken in my affirmation of LGBTQ+ persons. I have also been vocal about my recent shift towards supporting abortion rights. And I have worked with our church to address and dismantle systemic racism and embrace initiatives for racial justice, healing, and reconciliation.

Apparently that means I’m liberal. Never mind that I know Republicans who are LGBTQ+ affirming, who are Pro-Choice, who are seeking to be anti-racist. Also, never mind that I know Democrats who are none of those things. Confused yet? Well, it turns out people are complicated. People aren’t walking party platforms. People are a hot mess of beliefs, emotions, contradictions, biases, ideas, facts, experiences, wisdom, and ignorance. And I’m people too. If you find some of the things I think or believe frustrating or annoying, welcome to the party. I find me frustrating and annoying too.

I realize that some of you are not used to hearing a Christian pastor say what I’m about to say: It’s not at all a given that I’m right, and you are free to disagree with me.

I know many of you are accustomed to being part of a church where the pastor’s word is doctrine, where the church speaks with utter authority, where your job is to listen and believe – or if you don’t believe, to keep your disbelief to yourself. Well, that is not how the Episcopal Church works.

The Episcopal Church has, for example, officially and publicly supported reproductive rights for nearly 60 years. But 20% of Episcopalians disagree with that support. And that 20% is not excommunicated or ostracized for disagreeing with the policies and beliefs of the church. Disagreement is part of community.

Likewise, in our tradition, the Bible is not the sole authority in your life, to be swallowed whole and without question. It is an authoritative voice, and we recognize God’s movement within its texts. But we do not pretend it is a singular, inerrant, rulebook. You are meant to wrestle with it, to fight it sometimes. Disagreement is part of faithfulness.

As a priest, I am an authority in our church – I am not THE authority in our church. I have a voice to which you might listen, but I do not speak in order that you will silently and mindlessly assent to whatever I say. I expect you to wonder, to doubt, to be skeptical, to come to some different conclusions than I have. Disagreement is part of relationship.

I have been given the responsibility and the privilege of standing in a position of leadership in our shared life. And I’m going to try to use that space to speak openly and honestly about where I see Jesus working in the world. And sometimes that’s going to be political. For the life of me, I can’t see how it could not be. I don’t support LGBTQ+ persons because some political party or ideological construct tells me to. I support them because I believe God has made them exactly as they are, that they are a blessing, that they reflect something unique and beautiful about who God is. That’s political I guess. But mostly it’s just an expression of the Gospel.

I believe in Jesus. I love Jesus. I seek to speak in Jesus’ name. And I believe Jesus loves and blesses these people whom many Christians have marginalized and hated and condemned and harmed. So I’m going to say something about it.

And you get to disagree with me. You have authority too. You aren’t supposed to give all your authority to me. In fact, it would be irresponsible of you to cede all your spiritual authority to me or any other pastor or book or church. You are allowed to wish I said some things better, to be annoyed with me for being too cagey about some issues, and not cagey enough about others.

Let’s be honest, you were going to disagree and be annoyed sometimes anyway. You may as well have the permission.

As we wrapped up our breakfast, this new member of our church community knocked me over with what he said next. He said he had a feeling I’d tell him he was welcome just as he was because he’d been to our church enough times to just feel that was the case. To feel it. He said the vibe of our church - of his new church – is one where people walking in the door feel loved, and after coming enough times he is beginning to believe it’s true. He said he didn’t think he had to agree with or like everything I said. Amen to that.