Saturday, May 16, 1998

Preaching lifestyle rather than proclaiming God

By TOM EHRICH / Religion News Service

It was a preacher's dream: Mother's Day and a Scripture reading admonishing to "love one another."

To set the stage, I reminisced about my own mother and my experience of being loved. I counted some of the simple ways -- schoolday lunches, countless baseball games and school events, always encouraging, always believing in me.

Now that I am married to a mother, I know the cost of such giving. I know the self-denial that goes into parenting.

After worship, an older woman came up to me and said with passion, "I wish those so-called feminists could hear your sermon!"

Ouch!

What did I say that she heard as anti-feminist? By citing one mother, did I wound other mothers who take a different approach to that difficult and complex role?

Suddenly, it dawned on me: I was proclaiming God and self-sacrificial love, but what some heard was affirmation of a lifestyle and criticism of another. That is what faith has become for many: a commentary on lifestyle.

The shallow name their lifestyle preferences and look to Scripture for justification. Others start with Scripture and seek a lifestyle deemed worthy of God.

Either way, the next step is to fight over lifestyle: motherhood, women's roles, sexuality, divorce, environmental responsibility. Instead of submitting to God, we demand that others submit to our concept of what God wants.

We chase our lifestyle issues as if something eternal hung in the balance, as if our pronouncements on lifestyle were critical to God's self-esteem and humankind's salvation. Denominations become known by their "conservative" or "liberal" stance on hot issues such as homosexuality. Congregations enforce a subtle litmus test focused on lifestyle choices. The divorced, say, need not apply. Gays will be fixed, not welcomed.

Faith, we seem to say, is centered in us and our choices, rather than in God's revelation of himself. Salvation isn't a gift, like a mother's love, but a prize. We can redeem ourselves by making better lifestyle choices. Discipleship means spurning the unworthy. "Love one another" means "fix one another."

Preachers, then, are judged by whether they "fit in." Do they make lifestyle choices -- car, house, school, attire, marital status -- that are consonant with the congregation's norms? Ministries are judged by whether they please. A soul that is pierced by Scripture or sermon becomes a lifestyle problem: a canceled pledge, an empty seat, a sour presence.

Harmony becomes the highest value, as if "love one another" meant nothing deeper than "get along." Conflict becomes the enemy. Avoiding conflict is equated with leadership. A determination to stir the pot is a path to power. (Did you know Francis of Assisi was kicked out of his own order for being an annoyance on lifestyle choices?)

Worship becomes an acting-out of lifestyle, in effect a praise of self. Our music is youthful and participatory because we are young and exuberant. Or our worship is staid and formal because that's how we live. Experiencing worship means engaging in the commentary: liked or disliked the sermon, found the music fun or unsingable -- as if we were all prickly Goldilocks searching for the porridge that is "just right."

Some congregations thrive because they catch lifestyle waves at their crest. Trend-spotting equals wisdom -- unless one takes the contrarian taste-as-holiness view that if it's Wal-Mart, it can't be quality.

Our ears wait to be tickled, our egos stroked, our choices affirmed. While we ignore the First Commandment (God is God, and we're not) we elevate social-group shibboleths to divine law. Jesus may have said, "Love one another," but he meant to be more discriminating.

When Jesus first spoke this "new commandment," Simon Peter went on to bluster about the excellence of his own devotion. In fact, Peter would deny his master, because he had the weakness that sees self as the center of all things.

In time, though, Peter went beyond self and dared to proclaim a truth that pierced others and caused him trouble. His wasn't a "nice" word. I doubt Peter faced a stream of hurrying-home worshippers saying, "Liked your sermon, pastor." No suburban campus of religion would ever be built on a hard word such as his. But souls were saved, if not soothed.

(Tom Ehrich is the author of "On a Journey," daily meditations available through Journey Publishing Co. If you have feedback or want to suggest a question for a future column, e-mail him at journey(AT)interpath.com)