Theology: What I’m Struggling with Now – by Cynthia Holder Rich

Read John Senior’s essay “Thoughts on the Office of Ordinary Citizen.”
Read Katie Mulligan’s essay “Struggling for the Words.”
Read Nicholas Yoda’s essay “What I Am Thinking about Now.”

I am a member of the Presbyterian Church (USA), a communion going through some level of schism.  The division in the church pressures everyone to identify who they are and where they stand.  The issues about which the church is breaking are not those that would seem to rise to the level of status confessionis; but for some brothers and sisters, they clearly seem to do so.  We Presbyterians, as we walk this lonesome valley, must all struggle with where we are, how we got here, and where and what each one of us is called by God to be and to do at this time of testing.  Here’s my attempt.

Most of the time, I think of myself as a theological progressive.  I advocate and can talk through theological foundations for reproductive rights for women.  Talk to me about the health of women in countries – and US states – where it is not readily accessible, and let’s discuss women being made in the image of God and God’s will for life and bodily integrity to extend to all – including women.  I can lead discussion about the full inclusion of all whom God calls to ministry in the church, that is, the community of the baptized, by the grace of God all of us, no matter how God chooses to create people in terms of their sexual identity and orientation.  I can provide exegetical detail on God’s preferential option for the poor, the notion that God particularly cares for “the destitute, the poor and the wronged”, which I would argue is both Biblically founded and consistent with Reformed theology.  I am a “card-carrying member” of a variety of progressive organizations. I am for environmental protection, I believe in global climate change and its human source, and I view our role in this desecration of the creation as sin. I decry the ongoing racism and sexism in society and church, and I grieve the chronic and severe damage done by these in our midst; and I work for change toward a more faithful stance, for me and for those with whom I minister.

Then, from time to time, something happens that catches me up, makes me wonder, and forces self-examination about where I stand and who I am.

A very fine sermon was preached by the Rev. Dr. Randy Bush, Pastor, East Liberty Presbyterian Church, Pittsburgh, PA during the General Assembly meeting of the Presbyterian Church (USA) this July.  Dr. Bush preached on Micah 6:6-8, a favorite text of many, and a difficult scripture on which to say anything new.  The preacher dealt with the need to live our faith, to act justly, to be compassionate in the world – all the high points of theologically progressive orthodox thought and a message coherent with the text.  And, he encouraged the belief that the Gospel has now been preached to all people everywhere, so now was the time to “cut it out” and “knock it off”.

Dr. Bush is a trained and gifted homiletician, well-versed in techniques to catch and hold people’s attention – and the somewhat shocking nature of this comment is only one of the great strategies employed in the sermon.  I encourage you to check it out.

But I have to differ with the preacher on this point.  My history teaches a different truth.  I don’t believe we need to STOP preaching the Gospel.  On the contrary, I believe that the Gospel hasn’t been preached enough – that there are whole congregations in the US who rarely hear it preached at all.  The soft-pedaling (and at times, silencing) of the Good News – Jesus’ version – is normative in many areas of our church.  Rationalization of Jesus’ teachings – particularly those we find hard to hear, which is most of them – is rampant in the land.

As a former mission co-worker, however, the bigger issue for me and for us is the notion that the Gospel has already been preached everywhere. Having been to some places  where it hasn’t been preached – and to some where it has been preached and lived, but those in power have yet to hear – I have gained a deep sense of the power of the Gospel to transform life and what life lacks when it is not part of the scene.  This understanding has been hard-won and did not come upon me all at once – it took me years of living overseas to open my eyes to this truth.  Let me unpack this a little bit.

When my husband and I entered mission service, a number of good friends asked us why we would consider such a thing.  For many, “international mission service” and “the imposition of American cultural imperialism” are one and the same.  We were naïve, to be sure.  Before we left, a number of people expressed disappointment in our “choice” (which we knew to be a “call”); and when we got to Madagascar, we turned out to be the most “liberal” missionaries we knew!  This was in large part true because progressive denominations have stopped sending mission personnel, particularly for long-term assignments, to many areas of the world.  Budgetary constraints make up part of the reason for this – and changes in missiological approach are also part of the picture.  More to say on this another time – for the purposes of this piece, it is important to remember that most of our mission colleagues came from non-progressive communions, and from independent mission sending organizations – also not progressive.

As an ordained woman who hired Malagasy people to care for my children while I worked fulltime, it became clear that many of our mission colleagues saw me as a good candidate for Satan’s army.  We were pretty unaware of the political minefield we had entered, and were confused by friends and colleagues back home who understood that we were taking part in the same activities as the protagonist of The Poisonwood Bible (which was very popular at the time, and about which some wrote me, saying that having read the book, they now understood what I was doing. Ugh.).  The cognitive dissonance of living in the midst of a missionary community who saw us as hopelessly headed for Hell and dragging the Malagasy people down with us – and hearing from US colleagues that what we were doing was abusive, insensitive, and politically incorrect – was oft-times perplexing and painful.

One thing that is clear about international mission service is that the dislocation that is required puts people off balance.  This lack of balance, of certainty about where to put one’s feet in order to create and maintain stability, can result in openness being created – broken places being pried just open enough – that the Light of new insight can find a place to enter.  One learning that I gained from the experience of dislocation concerned the power of the Gospel of Jesus of Nazareth.  I had known about this power – I had preached it for over a decade before we moved overseas.  But I gained a new and much more comprehensive understanding of the power of the Good News, in a context where poverty is the norm and deprivation has held people in its grasp for centuries.  In this very poor country, there is a marked difference between the areas which have been evangelized and those which have not.  In areas of Madagascar where the Gospel has been preached and heard, maternal mortality is lower; infant mortality is lower; the birthrate is lower; children are less likely to be left out to die because they were born on unfortunate days; the median age of beginning sexual activity for girls is higher; more children are enrolled in school; the vaccination rates are higher – the list of good news goes on.  These are, of course, the same areas where missions started hospitals, which have had a huge impact on public health, and schools, which have had a like effect on education levels among the people.  Education, the greatest contraceptive program known among development workers, has had the same effect on the island as has been seen elsewhere across the world.  Everything is not, mind you, hunky-dory in these areas – poverty persists, as does sin leading to disempowerment (and too often, abuse) of the vulnerable, including women, children, people who are poor and people living with disabilities.  Life is not perfect in these areas – but it is measurably better in many ways.

I must hasten to explain that I am not saying that because missionaries came, all things became better.  The missionaries came, bringing their cultural baggage and not a little cultural sense of superiority, gilded with power issues from here to forever.  The Gospel, however, has power the missionaries (and we who endeavor to serve today, in whatever place) could not and cannot control or possess. It was not the power of the mission endeavor that brought these social indicators into better places – it was the power of Jesus and Jesus’ good news that birthed the mission endeavor, and which encourages and equips those who do the work now.  In Madagascar, most of these are Malagasy Christian pastors, evangelists, catechists, doctors, teachers and medical staff who, while continuing to live and serve in poverty most Americans cannot imagine, know themselves to be saved by the power of Christ and the grace of God.  It is humbling to live and serve among these saints of God’s church.

I am theologically progressive, and I believe that Jesus and Jesus’ good news are singular and powerful.  I am theologically progressive, and while I would reserve the right to define the term, I understand my ministry as evangelical.  I’m theologically progressive – and I firmly believe that reading the Gospel will change people.  Finally, as a theological progressive, I am convicted that God breaks into our world and acts on a regular basis.  At especially gracious and awe-inspiring moments, God has used and continues to use the Presbyterian Church (USA) in these in-breaking moments for good.

As my church is moving through schism because of differing beliefs and convictions, it is important for all of us to be thoughtful and move toward clarity about beliefs and the implications of those beliefs.  It also encourages the notion that there are differing, opposed, monolithic camps, which can be easily understood and categorized.  The call God has put on me makes me difficult to identify and categorize, for which I am thankful. I pray that God will continue showering often-disconcerting blessings on us all, and breaking into our lives and realities with truths difficult to hear and impossible to categorize; and I pledge to continue my own struggle to understand, and to be faithful and open in response.