THE OLD MEETING HOUSE East Montpelier Center, Vermont October 16, 2016

Religion: Does It Even Really Work? Preached by the Rev. Elissa C. Johnk* Intellectually indebted to, and often paraphrased from, the sermon series: “Conversations with an Atheist”, preached by the Rev. Adam Hamilton Over the past few weeks, we have been looking at the questions posed by leading figures in the modern atheist movement and what they have to say to the modern person of faith. Last week we looked at the question of science. Using mostly examples from the physical sciences, we talked about the ways in which the underlying presuppositions of the scientific method - a logical, orderly world, governed by universal principles – was an inheritance from a belief in a foundational goodness of the world, structured by a loving Creator. Rather than doing away with our need for God, the sciences – social and physical – are part of long tradition, captured in the scriptures, of attempting to better understand the world around us, and therefore the God from and in whom we live, move, breathe, and have our being. The week before we looked at the question of suffering. Harkening back to Epicurus’ famous maxim – that either God cares about the suffering in the world, but unable to change it, or God is able to change it, but doesn’t care – we considered that, clever rhetoric aside, there might be an understanding of God that rests in between, or outside of, these two options. A God who, for reasons outside our knowing (but still, I would argue, available to us in moments of great clarity), finds it valuable to engage the world – engage us – in the task of continuous creativity and re-creation. Purposes in suffering, not that is willed, but endured, overcome, redeemed. This series, itself, is indebted to the Rev. Adam Hamilton, pastor of a large Methodist church in Kansas, who poured over the works of Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, and Christopher Hitchens, to distill their basic premises for us, and outline how the church has, over the millennia, addressed these questions. And, perhaps, that is my biggest takeaway so far: the questions posed by leading atheists are, in fact, far from being catastrophic to the ideas and ideals of faith, but rather central to them. The question of God’s nature, and relationship to the world and the ways we understand it or don’t. The question of how suffering can exist alongside faith. The questions of religious warfare, and scriptural integrity – these are the questions of faith. As I have said before, if we cannot engage them, there is no purpose in our being here. If what we do, week in, and week out, does not in some definitive way, help us be in the world in ways that are kinder, gentler, better, truer, then there is no point. And that brings us to today, and what I think is, perhaps, the most challenging question of all – the question of hypocrisy. Whether, outside its own rhetoric or internal logic, religion helps us be better people. It is, I think, the most challenging question. Not simply here, in Vermont, where community connections help provide many of the relational benefits inherent in religious communities. Where church is viewed more skeptically than in any other place in the country. Where occasionally difficult conditions and higher costs of living mean that we are necessarily committed to living in ways that are supportive, nurturing, loving. In this environment, why church? 1

Now, Rev. Hamilton divides this category into three parts, and here I’m paraphrasing: the history of religious warfare, the parts of the Bible that make you go ewww, and the people of the book that make you go ewww. Now, we will pick up some of these questions again in advent, the season leading up to Christmas where we traditionally look at the themes of hope, peace, joy and love. In some ways, we will take up the series from the opposite perspective – what are the arguments for faith, for God, in light of these pressing questions. And next week we will begin a four-week series on the measurement of our lives. As we wrap up our fiftieth year in this place, how do we measure our time – as a community, and as individuals? And so, I think, this question – this question of whether religion makes us better– is a fitting way to hit “pause” for introspection. To question ourselves. Rev. Hamilton identified three reasons people are turned off from religion, distilled from his readings and conversations with those he calls – rightly, I think, and not without affection – evangelical atheists. And here, I am going to paraphrase him, briefly, because the arguments are correct, thought-provoking, and succinct. The first is oppression – times when faiths are used to maintain the way it is over the way it could be. He cites the Hindu caste system – which, for years, understood those of the lowest social class – the untouchables, to be in that position because of their karma – a failing in a past life. To interfere would be to get in the way of their spiritual advancement. He cites the controversy over women in several Muslim countries are denied full rights in the name of religion – just as they were here. And he cites American slave history, justified by presidents as “ordained by God” and proven right in the Bible. The second reason he cites is abuse. Of the nearly 600,000 clergy in the US, the small number who have done unspeakable things while in their positions – the abuse scandals covered by the Catholic church, the supposed faith healers who were in it for the money, the cults, like Jonestown, where people were led to their deaths. All in the name of religion. Here he quotes Steve Weinburg, who has stated, remarkably, that with or without religion, good people can behave well and bad people can do evil; but for good people to do evil things, that takes religion. And that makes sense, right? We think of the terrorists flying into the buildings as an example of this. We think of the Orlando shootings, or Boston bombings. But here, here faith is actually helped by science. Hamilton cites the Milgram trials – the 60s Yale experiment in which social scientists tried to understand how so many Germans could go along with the Nazi horrors. Giving folks a dial to turn and a button to push when told by the scientist, understanding that on the other end someone would receive a shock when they did so. Of course, no one was on the other end, just a recording of someone screaming, in increasingly distraught levels, until eventually there was silence. At the prodding of someone they had never met, under no ideology but science, people were willing although pained, to electrocute others. Indeed, horrid things have been done in the name of science. Without undercutting the horrible abuses done by clergy – because there is something unique in claiming the authority of God for one’s perversions of power – Hamilton reminds us that, really what is at stake seems to be authority, not religion. He reminded us that… 2

… many of the worst horrors done in World War II were done from the perspective of science, and that we do not disparage science because of bad scientists. …that neither Stalin, nor Pol Pot, inspired genocide for religion. …that the eradication of religion in communist states has not led them to be less violent. In fact, of the worst 20 genocides in recorded history, over 75% had nothing to do with religion. So it’s pretty hard to make the argument that only religion can inspire bad things. And yet, people do. Which brings us to the third reason non-religious people are turned off by religious people according to Rev. Hamilton – and that reason is: religious people. He states that the reason most people are turned off from religion is not because they know anything about it. Speaking about the Christian faith in particular, he notes that most people are turned away from Jesus Christ because of Christians. Certainly, he states, most people aren’t atheist or agnostic because they have had deep and meaningful, sustained engagement with Jesus. They are turned off because of Christians. Prominent Christians, who want to legislate morality, and yet support immoral candidates. People they know who are vehement in their Christianity, and yet mean-spirited and petty. Parents they’ve seen turn away children for being who they are – gay or lesbian or trans, or queer. And here, I would add, the skeptic would be joined by Jesus. Throughout the many records we have of his life, no one received more scorn or incited more anger from Jesus that the priests and the religious scholars who abused their station and their people – the religious hypocrites who said one thing, and did another. But unless you know a follower of Jesus who lives as if they follow Jesus, it can be hard to know that, can’t it? It is an unattributable truism that you are the only Bible that many people will ever read. The only example they have of what it means to go to church. Does that scare you? It should! Now, during his sermon, Rev. Hamilton asked his congregation to raise their hand if they considered themselves Christian. Clearly, I’m not going to do that because, again, clearly, this is NOT Kansas, we are New England, people! And we don’t ask anyone to out themselves on anything so personal as what they believe, or how they vote, or what they had for lunch. But his point was this: if you consider yourself a Christian, he says, you are a hypocrite. “Be perfect as our abba in heaven is perfect” is not a standard that any of us has attained. Not one. Not you, certainly not me, not the evangelist Paul, not Peter, the first pope, nor any of the popes that followed. Jesus said that we should love our enemies, turn the other cheek, give up all that we have for the poor. Paul said we should never be conformed to this world, that we should never return evil with evil, but that we should overcome evil with good. That we should forgive often, and show love for others more than anything else. That we should pray for the kingdom of God because the realm of God is a realm that is just, and peaceful, and good. That when the oppressed cry out, we should join with them in crying, not question whether there is oppression at all. 3

But we are not able to do all these things. We simply can’t. And, as Rev. Hamilton states, even we as clergy can’t. I don’t. I have committed myself with my life, with vows, my word, to living my life in faith – to living my life as faith for others to see, for others to hold onto when theirs is shaky. I had to step out of our confirmation retreat yesterday to officiate a funeral, and as I was leaving, I overheard Katie and Dave leading them in crafting a covenant, during which they said “One of the things Elissa is famous for is saying, in this place, we…” and then, over half the group joined in repeating what must be, clearly, a tired phrase: (remember, we’ve only met once) “we build each other up here….” And then one of them reminded the kids that another one of the things we do here is practice forgiveness. Practice it. Because, like all the people in our scriptures – the stories we tell about the origin of our humanity and our relationship to God and one another – just like those promises made of old, we fail to live up to our promises today. And so we practice living the way we want to live. We forgive one another, using cold, canned language until we can feel it in our own bodies in our own ways. But, as I quipped then on the retreat, and as it remains true now, “I’m certain my wife Sarah would not recognize this version of Elissa.” As many of the youth have seen, many of you have seen, my jokes can be off-color, my tongue too quick or too sharp. But what I have to offer the world – what I have to offer the youth, and you, and Sarah – is the faith – the assurance of things of things hoped for, and the conviction of things unseen (Heb 11) – that as I hand over my life in that same faith, as I try to hold myself up to these dreams of the Kingdom, and as I turn myself over to you to hold me to those self-same dreams and ideals, the realm of God grows inside of me, and little by little out in the world as well. And here’s the other thing: Rev. Hamilton asked folks to raise their hand if they did NOT consider themselves Christian. (Again, New England. Don’t worry.) After thanking them for hearing him out, and engaging in the conversation, he then told them that they, too, were hypocrites. (It’s a great sermon – you should listen to it! It’s linked in the endnotes.) Unless you have some sort of terrible moral code, aren’t we all trying to live up to some version of ourselves? Some standard we have set, and never fail to reach? This is not unique to people of faith. I have heard people tell me they will not see a physician who smokes. I, on the other hand, am aware that, for my members of my family who smoke, to see a physician who smokes would be tremendous – life-changing. That physician would know what my family member’s struggle is, see them as a human being, perhaps an addict, but not a moral failure as so often happens. For doctors, for scientists, for people of faith, - as we discussed at this time last year – for all of us, the difference between knowing and deciding, and the difference between deciding and doing is, in fact, the place we all live. The place we all have for bettering, changing, transforming ourselves. Friday night, at our youth retreat, we gathered in a circle around a campfire – and I mean REALLY gathered – this was not a leisurely s’mores session. It was cold. I had everyone – adults and youth alike – and we are more alike than different, by the way – I had everyone close their eyes. Then I asked them to raise their hand if they had ever… 4

The questions ranged from …been overwhelmingly sad for no reason, or …been angry uncontrollably, to …lost a friend to suicide, or tragedy, to …experienced an unwanted advance, to behaviors we are often ashamed of. And here’s the thing, there was not a single hand that was ever raised alone. And these are wonderful, wonderful people. I am not singling these folks out – I am singling US out. We are not perfect. Humans aren’t perfect. But what we did do on that retreat was embrace that imperfection. Not because we celebrate the hard parts, but because we acknowledge them. And we acknowledge that God loves us just the way we are. That we love each other just the way we are. We wrote on cards the worst secret that we haven’t ever told – the thing that eats away inside – and we tossed them in the fire. Because we acknowledge the hard. And know that God loves us anyway. And there is freedom in that. Not in pretending we are perfect. But working together to live up to the best parts of ourselves. The best parts of the Christian tradition – lives that are given over in service to one another. The best parts of being human. I know you can be a good person and do good things without church. That is indisputable. My spouse is Jewish. But I also know that this faith tradition – this man who changed history – the words of the prophets that seem to shine through the hard parts of the scriptures – the ones that are truly prophetic – in time but out of it – those are the things that inspire me. Are we hypocritical? Yes. And I’m okay with that. Because in between who I am, who I say I am, and the faith I profess to follow – well, that is the precisely the place where the kingdom is possible. A new heaven and a new earth. Starting in here. And for that, thanks be to God.

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Really, you should just go listen to him. It’s great: The Rev. Adam Hamilton, “Conversations with an Atheist: When Religion Goes Bad.” http://mp3.cor.org/sermons/sermon_2007-01-14_01.mp3 5