Church-Hopping Reflections, Number 2: “Freedom” and the Church

I’ve been given the opportunity to visit different churches in the Denver, Colorado area the past couple of weeks while I’m here for a farming internship this summer. Last week, I reflected on a sermon I heard about the hemorrhaging woman in Mark’s gospel (I know I’m a bit out of order, but those thoughts have yet to be flushed out in words). This week I’m reflecting on a service I attended in downtown Denver-at a church whose identity I will not reveal out of respect. 

I perhaps should have realized upon walking into the doors that this particular Sunday was the one directly following July 4, indicating a prime opportunity for American patriotism to be blended into the worship service. To be frank, I find attending such worship services difficult—even painful—to sit through. The more I learn about the United States’ empirical histories and present realities of racism, oppression, and militarization while I simultaneously learn about Jesus and early Christianity’s commitment to love so radical it challenges empire’s very existence, the harder it is to sing “America” or pledge allegiance to a nation which claims its superiority over others all in the name of a supposed freedom.

This Sunday, July 5, 2015, was unfortunately no different.The offertory music, anthem, and hymns were all a part of what the presiding minister named “Independence Sunday.” I was not aware that there was such a name for the Sunday closest to July 4. Against the background music of “Stars and Stripes Forever” the children’s minister delivered a message during the service’s children’s moment about how the United States has it so easy compared to so many places around the world that, according the picture she painted, live in the dark abyss “without freedom.” 

Don’t get me wrong—as much as I uphold the commitment to nonviolence which is the way of Jesus—I also support acknowledging those who risked their lives in the midst of wars which left them with broken minds and bodies, who latched themselves so fully to something they believed was important. I commend the courage of the two-ish dozen men (and let’s not forget their female companions… Abigail Adams, anyone?) who worked tirelessly to craft a symbol (Thanks for the ideas, Locke and Rousseau) and guide for a new identity for their political context, and to attempt to create a community honoring the dignity of all people.  

But my faith and call to ministry-however nagging it might be at times—tells me that I think we need to shift our attention. 

We praise the founding fathers who advocated freedom and equality; but do not hold them and ourselves accountable for their perpetuation of slavery and exploitation/neglect of women and people of color. (There was no mention of the recent burning of at least 8 black churches across the south in the service.)
We romanticize (and I think rightfully so, give thanks) for the plains of Texas and rolling hills of Tennessee but often fail to acknowledge the ways in which we individually and collectively decimate the natural world. 
We proclaim—as the children’s minister did—the right and necessity of soldiers to bring the “beacon of freedom” to other places when we ourselves are not as free as we think we are.

Yes, let us give thanks for the civil and religious liberties which I, we so often take for granted. 
But let us also say together, drawing from a patriotic song precious to so many:

America, may God mend our every flaw.