Disciple: Discipleship and Democracy

By Bishop Sam Rodman

Recent events as our country moves toward the November election have been alarming, frightening and disturbing. The attempted assassination of former President Donald Trump at a campaign rally in Pennsylvania was shocking and a sobering reminder of the violence that has steadily and increasingly become part of the landscape of our society and infiltrated our political process.

What is striking in all this is our inability, at times, to connect the dots: between rhetoric and behavior, between open access to firearms and the epidemic of mass shootings, between the mental health crisis and the tragic consequences when there is no intervention or treatment.

Then, a week after the assassination attempt, President Joe Biden withdrew from the race, due in large part to concerns about his health and his ability to lead and govern. Some are wondering if he is not fit to run, is he fit to govern for the remainder of his term? Others are lauding his decision as the act of a man who ultimately chose to put his country before his personal desires.

But the root cause of our dysfunction, and the anxiety and chaos it creates, is our inability to name this as a spiritual crisis. If the message of the Gospel of Jesus is the Way of Love, we have not only lost our way, but we appear to have lost our ability to lead and guide our people. To put it another way, we seem to have misplaced our moral and spiritual compass. Right and wrong, truth and fabrication, clarity and deceit have become intertwined. We don’t know who to trust, and we don’t seem to know which end is up.

THE WORK OF THE PEOPLE

Columnist David Brooks observed in a recent “New York Times” piece, “The task then is to build a new cultural consensus that is democratic but also morally coherent. My guess…is that this work of cultural repair will be done by religious progressives…who will build a modern social gospel around love of neighbor and hospitality for the marginalized.”

I read these words as both an invitation and a challenge. But the challenge is not to certain individual leaders as much as it is to all of us, together. And as Episcopalians, we may have something special that is both faithful discipleship and deeply democratic to offer in response to this question.

We are a liturgically based church. Our Book of Common Prayer liturgies are at the heart of our life of worship and at the center of what motivates and animates our church’s mission. Liturgy is often defined as “the work of the people.” One could easily make a connection between liturgy as the work of the people in the church and democracy as the work of the people in governance.

This is simply a long way of saying that if Brooks is right, and it is up to us to help build a modern social gospel (what we might call beloved community) that embodies love of neighbor and hospitality for the marginalized, we have our work cut out for us. But it is the work of all of us, together.

Again, our focus on liturgy may help clarify our role in all of this. Given that this seems to be a charism we hold and can offer to others, it feels like prayer needs to be at the center of our piece of this work. Prayer is the act of surrendering our agency to the direction and movement of the Holy Spirit.

INVITING GOD IN

When we pray, we invite God’s power into our lives, into our relationships and into the work we have been called to do. When we pray, we also offer ourselves, in humility, to be guided by God’s spirit. The liturgy is where we celebrate this surrender and this partnership as a community, as a church.

Our corporate or collective prayer sets both the tone and the spirit of our life together. We are all about care for others, because God is all about care for all of us. This is an essential element of Jesus’ teaching.

But prayer and action go hand in hand. And here is where we can begin to see the intersection between Building Beloved Community and building a functional democracy.

On the Sunday of President Biden’s announcement, I did not have a visitation, and so I attended the early service at one of our nearby churches. The rector preached about the importance of taking time apart, as Jesus and his disciples did, to pray and reflect, to recharge and renew. He described this discipline or practice as an opportunity to feed and tend our souls. And then he added, “The well-fed soul lives an abundant life.”

Prayer—private, as individuals, and public, as the church—is the way we reorient and reconnect to the source of our faith, our strength, our character and our purpose. Prayer is how we find our spiritual and moral compass. And prayer is also the place where we rediscover that God is always seeking our wholeness and well-being. God is always inviting us into what is sometimes called the fullness of life.

And in the fullness of life, prayer leads to action. Action that is grounded in God’s love, inspired by God’s spirit, shaped by the teachings of Jesus and formed by the love that brings clarity, health, intention and liberation.

One of the enduring values of a democratic society is freedom. True freedom is rooted in the promises of God, the assurance of mercy and forgiveness, and the grace to recognize that we are never alone on this journey.

Our actions need to reflect our values. This is how we build beloved community. This is how we, together, can reform a democracy that embodies love of neighbor, and hospitality and solidarity with the most vulnerable.

In an age of anxiety, we offer calm. In an age of uncertainty, we offer hope. In an age of chaos, we counter with care and concern.

Our moral compass, our spiritual North Star, is the gospel promises that we recite in our baptismal covenant—the apostles’ teachings; the breaking of bread and the prayers; resistance and repentance; proclaiming the Good News; seeking, serving and loving; and striving for justice and respecting every person as a beloved child of God. Of course, the response to these promises when phrased in the form of a question is the refrain “I will with God’s help.”

If we are to do our part to repair our fractured and fractious culture, and do the work of the people in our prayer and in our politics, it begins with these promises. In the months ahead we will need, individually and collectively, to pray, to act and to live into the power of these promises, with God’s help.

Bishop Sam Rodman is the XII bishop of the Diocese of North Carolina.