Christ Episcopal Church in Ponte Vedra, Florida, is the kind of church every pastor, rector, or preacher dreams of. It’s got children running about everywhere. It’s building yet another parking lot for reasons that are immediately obvious on any given weekend. It has a service on Saturday afternoon and another on Sunday afternoon in order to accommodate the folk who can’t come to one of the three traditional services or two contemporary ones that take place on Sunday. In addition, and more or less smished into the middle of all of this on Sunday mornings, there is a Rector’s Forum that takes care of direct instruction for adults in Christian living. Beyond all of that, the people have to be about as lively and animated as any group of folk gathered anywhere on a Sabbath morning. I know, because I was there eight weeks ago today, and I haven’t gotten over it yet.

I can’t claim to be a preacher—and God knows I never, ever wanted to be a pastor or rector—but I can talk. In fact, I’ll talk to anybody who’ll give me half a chance. And Christ Church, to my great joy, did just that. It was the 6th of July and technically still a holiday weekend, though the technicality did not seem to make any difference to the parishioners’ intention to be present for worship.

The nave or seating area of Christ Episcopal is built to be something close to theatre in the round. There is a platform or raised chancel that holds the altar, the lecterns, and the clergy chairs, and is itself surrounded on three sides by rows and rows of pews. Talking from such a configuration is a natural stimulus for me, because it lets me wander about, turning first to one side and then another and back to the center, watching faces as I move. The minute I walked in on Sunday morning and saw the deployment of the pews, I knew we were in business, at least as far as I was concerned. What I had no concept of was the rest of what lay ahead.

To the back of the raised chancel was the organ, albeit discreetly hidden, and the choir loft, also more or less shielded from view. Right on schedule and in complete accord with standard Episcopal operating procedure, as the service began, the choir processed down the center aisle of the nave and up the three chancel steps to their place in the choir loft beyond. Behind the choir came the priest in charge of the service, with the officiating deacon and me in tow behind him. The service commenced, as the service always does in Anglican worship, with a collect or two, a hymn or two, and the reading of the day’s lessons from first the Old Testament and then from the gospel.

After the gospel lesson appointed for the day, it was my turn to stand up and move about that wondrous chancel, talking to all those shining faces and telling a story or two from the Bible. Episcopalians of whatever degree of enthusiasm do not appreciate overmuch homilizing. Ten minutes tops will do quite nicely, as a rule. In good time, I finished and sat down. The priest moved us through the recitation of the Creed, the prayers, the confession of sin, the absolution, and even through the passing of the peace and the parish announcements. At that point, he and the order of service both called for the offering to be taken. Again, right on schedule. What I hadn’t counted on was the offertory anthem.

The ushers were doing their thing with passing the collection plates up and down the rows when the organ commenced and from somewhere behind me there was the rustle of a human being rising to sing.

And then he did.

Oh, dear Lord in Heaven, he did:

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is tramping out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He has loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.

And then he let loose with “Glory! Glory! Hallelujah," and I could hardly breathe.

I had not heard the song in years. I had never heard the song as it was sung in those moments. It had nothing to do with a particular country and everything to do with the glory of being Christian, alive, and human:

I have read a fiery Gospel writ in burnished rows of steel;
“As you deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal”;
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

And then, as I thought I could bear no more. He sang:

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;
As He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free
While God is marching on….

Let us live to make men free. Never had I heard it sung that way before, and my heart sang with his from that moment on:

He is coming like the glory of the morning on the wave,
He is wisdom to the mighty, He is honor to the brave….

When the last “Glory!” was sung, there was a quiet in that place like none you could imagine or I could ever describe. Caught in the silence, the priest finally rose and tried to speak the first phrases of the doxology when suddenly, as if by common consent, he was drowned out by a roar of applause that rolled over everything else and up to the altar itself.

The man with the golden voice and the soul to give it content was a man named Walter Hook, at least according to the service leaflet. I never saw him before and greatly fear that I may never get to hear him again. But the thing I did find out about Walter Hook is that he is not a professional singer or a cleric, just a layman with a voice who loves to sing his experience as a Christian. And it has taken me these eight long weeks to find the words with which to try to thank him for what he gave me -- gave all of us -- that 4th of July Sunday.

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! As God died to make men holy, let us live to make men free, while our God is marching on.

Phyllis Tickle (www.phyllistickle.com) is the founding editor of the religion department of Publishers Weekly and author of The Words of Jesus: A Gospel of the Sayings of Our Lord and the forthcoming fall release, The Great Emergence: How Christianity Is Changing and Why.

Yesterday morning, I started what would become an historic day with my favorite historian. As a young man, Vincent Harding was part of the inner circle of the southern freedom movement with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and later became one of the civil rights movement's best chroniclers and interpreters. Vincent has also been a mentor and trusted friend to me and to Sojourners for many years.

Vincent Harding was there at the Democratic Convention in 1964 when the party refused to seat the delegation from the Mississippi Freedom Party, and was close to its leader, famed civil rights activist Fanny Lou Hamer. When he told me that he would be there again this very night, at Invesco Field at Mile High in Denver, to witness the acceptance speech of the first African American to be nominated by any party for the presidency of the United States, he had tears in his eyes. Reflecting on the fact that this day was also the 45th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s most remembered "I Have A Dream" speech, at the historic 1963 March on Washington, was almost too much to believe for both of us.

"When it comes to being a multiracial democracy," Vincent said to me, "We are still a developing country." He went on to suggest that “this would be a real opportunity for a new conversation between white people over these next 69 days.” I wondered how many white Americans are ready to evaluate this young man, Barack Obama, in the way that King had hoped his children would one day be in that famous speech 45 years ago, "Not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their  character,” along with Obama’s policy ideas and capacity for leadership.

All the news reports have described well the unforgettable scene with 85,000 people under a clear and warm Colorado sky. There have been only a few other times in my life where I felt like I was actually witnessing history -- such as the inauguration of Nelson Mandela to be the first democratically elected president of South Africa.

But the many impressive speeches, spectacular entertainment, and eye-popping display of fireworks were all overshadowed by the speech. I’ve heard many of Barack Obama’s speeches, from his keynote at the 2004 Democratic Convention, to his address on religion and public life at our Call to Renewal (now Sojourners) conference in 2006, to many of his primary orations. But, as was almost universally recognized by the media commentators, this speech took Barack Obama’s message and campaign to another level. He was inspiring, as he has often been during this presidential campaign, but he also defined his meaning of the “change” he is calling for, more than he ever had before, so voters could either agree or disagree with his vision and policy plans.

Obama made it clear that he was ready and willing to debate John McCain, and yet he also made it clear that he would do so without attacking the character of his opponent. And while he challenged McCain’s record of ideas and leadership, Obama said his opponent was worthy of gratitude and respect from all Americans because of his service and sacrifices for the country. The sincere applause from the huge Democratic audience to Barack Obama's genuine recognition of McCain's patriotism was a high point of the night. I am hoping now to see that kind of applause to the recognition of Barack Obama’s remarkable American story and patriotism at the Republican Convention next week in St. Paul, where I will also be present. For his part, McCain offered a gracious comment on Barack Obama's night in Denver. He said, "Senator Obama, this is truly a good day for America. Too often the achievements of our opponents go unnoticed. So I wanted to stop and say, congratulations. How perfect that your nomination would come on this historic day. Tomorrow, we'll be back at it. But tonight, Senator, job well done."

Indeed, almost every one of the network analysts, across the political spectrum, said Obama’s speech last night was a job well done. David Gergen, a political veteran of both Republican and Democratic administrations and many campaigns and conventions, called Obama’s speech a “masterpiece.” Some of the cable talking heads seemed almost moved to tears, while others wasted no time in deconstructing and dissenting from the content of Obama’s address (all along predictable political lines), but almost no one disagreed that we had just seen a moment of magnificent American political oratory.

It was the kind of speech that could help the American people decide whether they agree or disagree with what Barack Obama proposes for America. My hope is that John McCain will also be evaluated on the clarity of his message and vision.

Once again, the personal story of Barack Obama also came through to a nation eager to evaluate his character, judgment, and leadership. And the picture of the Obama family afterward, on the stage with wife Michelle and daughters Malia and Sasha, provided a hopeful and heartwarming image of what family can be in a nation where so many of our families are unraveling. Both Obama’s ideas and character were very evident last night and throughout convention week, perhaps more so than at any time in this campaign.

Now John McCain has the opportunity to do the same thing next week.  My next blog post will be from St. Paul, Minnesota.

[see all posts in this conversation on New Monastics and race.]

In August 2006, before having ever heard the term "new monasticism," my husband, Jason, and I founded Radical Living, an intentional community in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn, New York. When I (Vonetta) was 12 years old, I emigrated from Guyana to Bed-Stuy, one of the poorest and most violent neighborhoods in New York City. I witnessed firsthand urban decay -- and renewal -- as well as the devastating effects of the crack epidemic.

Some of our neighbors, many of whom I have known since I was young, have been afflicted by drug addiction and poverty. They are not merely the nameless, faceless people you might read about or pass on the street. They are living souls made in the image of God. When a person applies for membership at Radical Living we explain that we want to live in community with people who desire to invest in the lives of their neighbors, regardless of their position in society. We are not interested in living with "tourists" who want to "experience the ghetto."

My husband and I are an interracial couple with a baby daughter, and it is important to us that our community, regardless of the predominant culture around us, is centered in Jesus and reflective of the diversity of the kingdom of God. Although our community -- 17 people who live in three houses around one block -- is blessed with diversity, we have a lot of work to do with regard to racial reconciliation. There are African Americans, Asians, immigrants, and first-generation Americans, and more than half our community are white folks. Although not as representative of our neighborhood as we could be, due to the rainbow of voices in our community we regularly discuss the role of minorities in the New Monastic movement. It is also due to these voices that we know how much work we have to do.

The key players in New Monasticism have made important strides in raising awareness of issues pertinent to disenfranchised members of our society, yet these leaders often make some of the same mistakes as their conservative counterparts. One of the 12 marks of New Monasticism is the "lament for racial divisions within the church and our communities, combined with the active pursuit of a just reconciliation." Although most do "lament" the racial divisions in our society, one is hard-pressed to find a leader in New Monasticism who is not a middle-class white male. However, the problem is not with their class, color, or gender, but that there has yet to be an "active pursuit" of reconciliation realized within the myriad of intentional communities that have sprouted across the U.S. And after some good private conversations with some those leaders, we agreed to open a public dialogue about this issue because by their very natures both this conversation and this movement aren't just about a handful of leaders. It's about every member of every community who needs to actively seek reconciliation.

Another of the 12 marks is to relocate "to the abandoned places of Empire." New Monastics have done this quite well. But sadly, years -- and sometimes decades -- after an intentional community has been planted in a minority neighborhood, the community's membership continues to remain predominantly (if not exclusively) white. What are the reasons for the membership to remain so homogenous? One thing is for certain: The idea of "us and them" is perpetuated when an intentional community does not actively seek to diversify its membership.

New Monastic communities need to be redemptive communities where all, regardless of ethnicity, national identity, or economic status, are invited to participate in the communal rhythm of Christian living. As Eliacin Rosario-Cruz, a friend and fellow communitarian, recently said, "The current wave of New Monasticism needs the life and spirit that minorities bring because it is a more complete expression of what the kingdom is, not the other way around."

The current generation of progressive Christians has done amazing work in broadening the social agenda among evangelicals, but now it's time that we trust what our hearts and minds believe and actively pursue the reconciliation we talk about. The next step, rather than being a voice for the "voiceless," is to hand the mic over to indigenous community leaders and ask them to facilitate the conversation so that we might grow and deepen in relationship with one another and with God.

Every one of us in this movement needs to plead with God to make us ministers of reconciliation. We must pray for eyes to see the structural racism perpetuated by unjust policies and a shared history of colonialism and slavery. Some of us will need to repent of inaction and empty rhetoric. Others simply need to heed what the Lord is already speaking. All of us will need to affirm affirmative action in our communal houses, and actively pursue reconciliation.

We are hopeful that the New Monastic movement will be a diverse, Christ-centered, Spirit-led movement. And if all of us in this conversation will extend transparency, grace, and love to one another, we will surely disable the structural racism that has infected the church for far too long. And then we will be able to truly proclaim Jubilee!

Jason and Vonetta Storbakken are cofounders of Radical Living. Learn more about their community in this article in the New York Press.

[see all posts in this conversation on New Monastics and race.]

"Vote Out Poverty! Vote Out Poverty!" shouted the diverse group of clergy and faith leaders as they marched in downtown Cleveland, Ohio, at our ecumenical public witness event last October. That was the last time I saw Rep. Stephanie Tubbs Jones (D-Ohio) in person; she stood on the podium in the crisp October sunshine waiting for the crowd to arrive.

We had invited several elected officials to the Vote Out Poverty event to join with people of faith from across the country to renew God's vision for relational and economic justice, and to prioritize poverty in our public policy. Most of those officials deferred, claiming other commitments and the like. But not Stephanie (who preferred to be called by her first name). True to her character, and to her commitment to the poor and disenfranchised, that day she became the first elected officeholder in the nation to sign the Vote Out Poverty pledge, committing to develop plans to cut the number of Americans living in poverty by half over the next 10 years, and to help end extreme global poverty by achieving the Millennium Development Goals. 

Stephanie was used to firsts, most importantly serving as the first African-American woman elected to represent Ohio in Congress. She was in her fifth term as the representative of the 11th Congressional District, which includes most of the east side of Cleveland. Stephanie was a revered public figure in Ohio, and two years ago she was re-elected to Congress with 83 percent of the vote.

Stephanie was at her best that brilliant Sunday afternoon last October. She was exuberant and full of life as she spoke to the gathered crowd, which included Jim Wallis and many Cleveland pastors and congregations, calling us all to higher purpose and common ground.

So, we were all shocked last week when Stephanie died suddenly at age 58 from a ruptured brain aneurysm while driving in Cleveland. Here in Ohio, we will honor Stephanie's life and work at her memorial service Saturday. She leaves her son, Mervyn Jr., her husband of 27 years, Mervyn, and many of her relatives. But it is in her compassionate life -- and her core commitment to the least of these -- that she is best remembered. 

This past Tuesday evening at the Democratic National Convention, Ohio Governor Ted Strickland led the crowd in "a moment of celebration for everything she's given us." Later, Stephanie's "sister" Hillary Clinton honored Stephanie with glowing remarks on prime-time television. But here in Ohio, we know that Stephanie wouldn't have missed this convention for anything -- so we trust that she was there in spirit, lifting up, as she always had, those who needed her most. She will be deeply missed. 

Rev. Virginia Lohmann Bauman is the Ohio field director for Sojourners

Congresswoman Stephanie Tubbs Jones was a Cleveland original. Stephanie never cared about “style points.”  She only cared about passing public policy that served the common good.  No one matched her passion, energy, or voice for the poor and vulnerable. Everyone wanted her on their side. She was ever present in her 11th Congressional District and was tireless in her advocacy for victims of predatory lending, the uninsured, the unemployed, and children.  The news this week that 30 percent of Clevelanders are living in poverty would have caused her to redouble her efforts at the national level. One of her dreams was to become the first woman chair of the powerful Ways and Means Committee.  Most certainly, she would have used that pulpit to the benefit of her constituents and the nation.  

A woman of deep faith and a champion of the poor, one rarely encounters a person with the integrity, compassion, love for humanity, and political skills that Congresswoman Tubbs Jones possessed.  Catholic social action in Cleveland lost a key ally.  Our nation lost a marvelous public servant.

Tom Allio is director of the social action office of the Catholic Diocese of Cleveland, chair of the Ohio Coalition for Responsible Lending, and a Sojourners board member.

Coinciding with the visit of a dear friend who's spent the past few years working in Afghanistan for both development NGOs and (non-U.S.) government agencies, the DVD of Charlie Wilson's War recently arrived from Netflix. My friend recommends it. Also, I [heart] Philip Seymour Hoffman. And I can tolerate Tom Hanks in appropriate doses. But an op-ed by the real-life Charlie Wilson in yesterday's Washington Post makes me even more eager to watch it soon. He writes:

In a scene near the end of the movie "Charlie Wilson's War," after the mujaheddin victory over the invading Soviet military, congressional appropriators turn down my request for funds to rebuild Afghanistan's schools, roads and economy. If we had done the right thing in Afghanistan then -- following up our military support with the necessary investments in diplomacy and development assistance -- we would have better secured our own country's future, as well as peace and stability in the region. ...

[I]nstead of intensifying our diplomatic and humanitarian efforts to help the Afghans meet their postwar challenges, we simply walked away -- leaving a destroyed country that lacked roads, schools, and any plan or hope for rebuilding. Into this void marched the Taliban and Al-Qaeda, and we all know what happened after that.

Whenever I'm reminded of our support for the likes of the mujahadeen, Saddam Hussein's war against Iran, and Manuel Noriega in Panama, I can't help but wonder -- what future enemy are we currently arming and training? Where are we currently focusing on military aid when a more comprehensive approach is needed to create real security? (Pakistan, I'm looking in your direction ...)

Wilson issues this warning:

We simply cannot make the same mistake. The lesson here is about more than the good manners of reciprocating a favor. It takes much more to make America safe than winning on the battlefield. Had we remained engaged in Afghanistan, investing in education, health and economic development, the world would be a very different place today. The aftermath of a congressional committee's decision so long ago has turned out to be a warning that America is not immune to the problems of the very poorest countries. In today's world, any person's well-being -- whether he or she is in Kandahar, Kigali or Kansas -- is connected to the well-being of others.

And he offers this simple advice, to which the military-industrial complex is so well innoculated: 

We can avoid the need to spend so much on our military -- and put so many of our soldiers in harm's way -- simply by investing more in saving lives, creating stable societies and building economic opportunity.

Ryan Rodrick Beiler is the Web editor for Sojourners.

If you're among the growing number of voters who are disenchanted with both major parties, you may be considering a move to a third party. You're not alone. Some minor parties have seen significant growth in recent years. Oregon's Independent Party likely holds the record, with nearly 24,000 registered members since its inception a mere 18 months ago.

But before you make the leap to any third party, here are some questions you need to think about:

How important is winning to you? This is one of the most important considerations and one that few pundits, commentators, journalists, and political observers understand. Do minor party candidates want to win? Of course. Do they expect to? In most cases, no. What they want is automatic ballot access, and that means garnering a certain percentage of the vote. The more votes cast for their candidate, the more likely they won't have to endure the time-consuming petitioning process in the next election. They're building for the future, and they're accustomed to losing elections. A win for them, under the current political structure, is getting enough votes to secure their position on the ballot next time around.

Are you clear on where you stand on the issues? Do you have a well-defined political philosophy? Minor parties are not big tents. Most have well thought-out positions and tightly-worded platforms, and people who join these parties do so because they agree with those positions and platforms. If you disagree with any significant point, don't join thinking that your input may change their position. It won't. There's not a lot of diversity of opinion in most third parties, but you know where they stand, which is not always the case with the major parties.

Are you willing to get involved? Volunteers are the lifeblood of minor parties. Of course, you can still sit on the sidelines; no one will make you get involved. But the party will never grow and never achieve or retain the much-coveted ballot access without its volunteers.

Are you only interested in presidential races? If so, you'll be missing out on an opportunity to make a difference in your area. Minor parties are especially effective in legislative districts where one party essentially owns a congressional seat. Sometimes the opposing major party simply concedes and chooses to spend its resources in a district where they stand a chance at winning. Third parties come in and fill the void, showing incumbents that they shouldn't be so sure of themselves.

Can you take the heat? Be ready, because you'll get plenty of criticism. You'll be told you're wasting your vote and your candidate is a spoiler. The obvious retort is that a vote for a major-party candidate is wasted and goes to a different kind of spoiler, one who is ruining what could be a perfectly fine political system. The more mature answer would be that your candidate gave you someone you could vote for in good conscience, or whatever your honest answer is. You just need to be prepared to give it, over and over again.

If you're still feeling positive about third parties after all that, it may not be easy finding a party that satisfies both your political and your spiritual inclinations. But you have hundreds to choose from. Politics1 can fill you in on many of them. Here's a rundown of the three largest; each party likely has more than the number listed, since some states don't allow voters the option of registering with a specific minor party:

Constitution: 367,000 registered voters; expects to have ballot access in all 50 states by November. Baptist pastor Chuck Baldwin of Pensacola, Florida, is its presidential candidate; his running mate is Tennessee lawyer Darrell Castle. The pro-life party is in favor of states' rights, limited government and gun ownership, and against illegal immigration and open borders, U.N. interference in U.S. policy, undeclared unconstitutional wars ("such as Iraq and Afghanistan"), and free trade and international trade agreements such as NAFTA and GATT.

Green: 289,000 registered voters; the number of states with ballot access in 2008 is still undetermined. The presidential candidate is former Democratic Congresswoman Cynthia McKinney of Georgia; Bronx community organizer and hip-hop activist Rosa Clemente is her running mate. The party is in favor of abortion rights, same-sex marriage rights, amnesty for illegal immigrants, universal health care, reduction in deficit spending, gun control, drug legalization and fair trade, and opposes the war in Iraq, capital punishment, and school prayer.

Libertarian: 236,000 registered voters; has ballot access in 33 states so far. Former Republican Congressman Bob Barr of Georgia is the party's presidential nominee; Nevada businessman Wayne Allyn Root is his running mate. Beyond the "fiscally conservative, socially liberal" tag associated with it, the party is in favor of smaller government, lower taxes, and freedom from governmental interference (from its Web site: "Think of us as a group of people with a 'live and let live' mentality and a balanced checkbook.")

If, after investigating all the minor parties that America has to offer, you still haven't found one to your liking, you can always start your own. And you can find out how here.

Marcia Ford is the author of We the Purple: Faith, Politics and the Independent Voter.

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O let the evil of the wicked come to an end,
but establish the righteous,
you who test the minds and hearts,
O righteous God.
God is my shield,
who saves the upright in heart.
God is a righteous judge,
and a God who has indignation every day.

- Psalm 7:9-11

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The Christian can realize union with God not only through interior prayer, but also in action.

- Ramon Bautista
Catholic priest in the Philippines

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Somebody came up to me in Denver and said, "At the Democratic Convention of 2008, faith is cool!" That is indeed a big change from recent years. As I have been saying at the many "faith forums" in Denver, faith must have a different and better role than it has had in politics these last few decades.

And I have been encouraged by the more "prophetic" role that faith has played here, deeper than the partisan use of faith in recent memory. At one of those faith panels, Rev. Otis Moss Jr., one of the most respected pastors in the black church and a great leader from the civil rights movement, spoke eloquently and directly to the question of prophetic integrity in politics. He said we must "keep alive the prophetic tradition in our society," and went on to say that there will always be "a healthy tension between the faith-based mission and government enterprises, but tension doesn't mean hostility." In the deep and melodic voice of wisdom and authority that Otis Moss is so known for, this distinguished man invoked the framework that his friend Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. offered for the proper relationship between faith and politics. King said that the churches (or other faith communities) must never try to be "the master of the state." Nor should we be the "servant of the state." Rather the community of faith must be "the conscience of the state."

Rev. Moss said "if the state should lose its conscience, the state will become brutal," and if those of us in the community of faith lose our capacity to be the conscience, we will "be guilty of the sin of omission." He then paraphrased John Stuart Mill, who said that should the state "dwarf" or repress its citizens, it will soon find that with "dwarfed citizens" no great things will be accomplished. He then laid out what it would mean to "engage" government in the most prophetic way. It was a lesson in faithful citizenship, which received an extended standing ovation.

Yesterday, we saw the first nomination of a black man for president of the United States in our history. Today is the 45th anniversary of King's historic "I have a dream" speech on a steamy day in Washington, D.C., in 1963. Tonight, Barack Obama accepts the nomination of his party, addresses 70,000 people at Mile High Stadium, and lays out his vision to the country. All around Denver today, the emotional feeling is one of witnessing history.

I am overwhelmed at the historic nature of what's happening this week, and it's important that we all think about this. It's important for me as a Mississippian. For me, I can't stop thinking of the Mississippi Freedom Democrats and Fannie Lou Hamer. I wish Hamer could be here.

In 1964 the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party (MFDP) arrived at the Democratic National Convention in Atlantic City with the goal of unseating the "regular Democrats" and representing their fellow Democrats from Mississippi.

The Freedom Democrats were civil rights pioneers attempting to engage the political process and give African Americans equal participation in our nation's democratic system. They wanted to vote. They wanted to participate. They wanted their voice to be heard.

The regular Democrats were the establishment. They were all white and were seeking to maintain the status quo, which was maintaining their control of the political process in Mississippi.

The Freedom Democrats stood for an America where everyone had a place at the table. The regular Democrats stood for an America where the white establishment had a place at the table while African Americans stood to the side taking what scraps were tossed to them.

Fannie Lou Hamer led the Mississippi Freedom Democrats. She was impoverished, a sharecropper with hands calloused from the back-breaking work of hand-picking cotton. She couldn't read. And she had lived a life with no say about her own choices. Speaking before the DNC credentials committee, Hamer proclaimed "Is this America?"

Hamer is also famous for telling America, "I am sick and tired of being sick and tired."

The Freedom Democrats were denied official recognition, but the MFDP kept up their agitation within the convention. The MFDP delegates borrowed passes from sympathetic northern delegates and took the seats vacated by the "regular" Mississippi delegates (most had left), only to be removed by the national party. When they returned the next day to find that convention organizers had removed the empty seats that had been there yesterday, the MFDP stayed to sing freedom songs.

This week, 44 years later, the Democratic Party at their national convention in Denver, Colorado, has nominated Sen. Barack Obama as their candidate for president of the United States.

The diverse Mississippi delegation of black and white, the heirs of the Freedom Democrats of 1964, many with direct connections with those who were there in 1964, cast their votes for this historic candidate.

Let's not forget the true nature of this historic week. Let's not forget the African Americans back in Mississippi who once couldn't vote, who lived under Jim Crow, and on Thursday night will watch a black man accept the nomination of the Democratic Party to lead this oldest active political party on the planet, to be their candidate for president of the United States. What will go through their minds?

Fannie Lou Hamer was right to ask in 1964, "Is this America?"

As I sit in my hotel room here in Denver, in 2008, I would love to be able to tell Hamer, "Yes ma'am it is. Yes, ma'am, this is America; it's your America. Yes, ma'am, because of your determination 44 years ago, in just a few hours a black man will stand on one of the globe's largest stages and demonstrate to us that this is indeed the America we hope for."

Burns Strider is former senior advisor and director of faith outreach for U.S. Sen. Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign, former advisor to House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, and currently a founder and partner of The Eleison Group.

I'm voting in this election, not with naivete but with sincere enthusiasm. Not with any messianic hopes, but with a deep sense of moral responsibility as a shareholder or steward of the richest, most dominant, and most well-armed nation in the world. I had another long talk with a friend a couple weeks back who, on religious grounds, is passionately against voting. He had read my earlier posts on the subject, but wasn't convinced to vote. Nor was I convinced by his counter-arguments to practice voting abstinence. But this piece posted on the emergent village site by Anthony Smith [a.k.a. Postmodern Negro] made me want to nudge my nonvoting friend once more. Anthony offers better reasons to vote than the ones I shared with my nonvoting friend -- who like me is a privileged white guy.

Responding to some thoughts posted by David Fitch, who in turn was responding to some statements by Stanley Hauerwas, Anthony said:

I live with a tragic history that remembers the failure of churches to be more determined by color than baptism. A reality we still wrestle with today. But a part of that tragic history is how fellow Christians, on this continent, refused to let people of color in on the conversation called America. What they didn't know was that we already had our own conversation, and we wanted them in on it. Even though we had our own conversation going since the beginning of sojourn, we still wanted to join in as fellow citizens and broaden the conversation. We wanted to bring our gifts to the table. We wanted equity along racial lines. A piece to the puzzle to achieving such equity was the practice of voting.

Voting, as it is oftentimes seen by historically marginalized groups, is a precious gift. It is not seen, within the language game of the prophetic black church, as a form of violence. That voting is seen as a means of violence can only come from Christians who don't know what it is like to be without the gift. This is why the loudest voices for political disengagement on Gospel grounds tend to be of lighter hue. It is another form of advantage to eschew voting. I profoundly agree with Christians engaging in anti-imperial practices or pro-kingdom activities that give sign to another world in our midst. But understand my suspicion. I am postmodern, after all.

Anthony makes an important point. Similarly, when I hear folks in the U.S. dissing voting as dirtying ourselves with the business of the empire, I keep wondering, "How would somebody in Zimbabwe respond to that kind of talk?" Or considering how few votes in Florida it would have taken for George Bush not to have been elected in 2000, I wonder how bereaved and maimed Iraqis -- and Americans -- would respond to Floridians who decided to make a religious statement by not voting? Anthony continues:

I have this habit of being suspicious whenever white Christians tell me what to do. I think it has something to do with history. Not sure. Pray for me. But the history doesn't look too good, for the most part. Yet I am a part of the emerging church postmodern conversation. Here I am, and I am hearing more and more voices say things that leave me in a state of tension. When I hear them say, "I am not voting because I am a Christian," I also hear the guttural cry of slaves in the cotton fields of Alabama praying for freedom from oppression. When I hear them say, "Voting is one more means to be about the business of Empire," I also hear the voice of an assassinated prophet say, "We must have our freedom now. We must have the right to vote. We must have equal protection of the law."

I hear something different than those who suggest voting is a mechanism of Empire. It may have something to do with the place from which I cast my ballot.

Voting isn't the only expression of our faith in public affairs, of course. But it's hard for me, even more so in light of Anthony's words, not to see it as an important first step, as an expression and solidarity with my neighbors in the U.S. and around the world, which is inherent to my faith in God and gospel.

Brian McLaren is an author and speaker and serves as Sojourners' board chair.

Labor Day weekend is often a slow time for congregations. Members are attending family gatherings. Parents are getting children ready for school. Neglected summer projects are undertaken or (like my garden) abandoned until next summer. Aside from the occasional Labor Day parade, few Labor Day activities seem to have anything to do with honoring labor. Labor Day weekend nonetheless offers congregations an opportunity to lift up the values of work and reflect on our religious teachings on labor.

Labor Day was first celebrated in 1882 in New York City. The idea of a labor day spread throughout the nation with 23 states passing laws honoring the occasion. In 1894, Congress made it a national holiday. American Federation of Labor records show a resolution in 1909 proclaiming the Sunday before Labor Day as Labor Sunday, "dedicated to the spiritual and educational aspects of the labor movement," though many congregations were holding Labor Sundays at least by 1905.

Work is central to each of our lives. Most of us spend more waking hours at work than we do with our families. We certainly spend more time at work than we do in religious services. Working people and how they fare are central to the development and prosperity of the nation. Tackling poverty requires us to figure out how all workers can earn wages and benefits that can support their families.

Despite the centrality of work to our lives, few of our congregations focus much on values related to work. We don't preach about work, offer classes on integrating religious values into work, train new workers about worker rights, or advocate justice in the workplace. Too many congregations have limited God's purview to the family and congregational life, when in fact fundamental values questions are played out in the workplace each and every day.

Labor in the Pulpits (Labor on the Bimah, Labor in the Minbar) is an organized program in dozens of cities that places labor speakers in congregations to talk about the shared values between the labor movement and the religious community. It is coordinated jointly by Interfaith Worker Justice (IWJ) and the AFL-CIO. Even congregations that don't officially have labor speakers can take advantage of the congregational resources prepared for Labor Day weekend.

Although Labor Day is right around the corner, it's not too late to put some labor back in Labor Day weekend services. Your congregation can:

• Preach about the value of work. Review your tradition's teachings on labor and work through your faith body's Web site or IWJ's.
  
• Invite a labor leader to talk about the shared values between the labor movement and the religious community.
  
• Honor its own workers (such as the secretary, custodian) in public ways or through IWJ's Honor a Worker program.
  
• Include inserts honoring work in the bulletin. IWJ offers free Labor Day-specific inserts as well as others that can be used throughout the year.
  
• Schedule a fall or spring adult study program on worker issues. IWJ offers a congregational study guide to New York Times reporter Steven Greenhouse's essential new book, The Big Squeeze: Tough Times for the American Worker. In addition, I have a book coming out in November, Wage Theft in America: A Prevention Manual, which includes a four-session congregational study guide. (E-mail cjunia@iwj.org if you'd like to get on the notification list.)

Labor issues may not be discussed much in our congregations, but they should be. Work is central to each of us, to our nation's prosperity, and to the possibility of ending poverty. Use this Labor Day as an opportunity to begin reinserting the core values of work and economic justice into the preaching, teaching, and living out of God's vision in our congregations.

Kim Bobo is the executive director of Interfaith Worker Justice, a national network that engages the religious community on issues affecting low-wage workers. A columnist for Religion Dispatches, she is the author of Lives Matter: A Handbook for Christian Organizing and a co-author of Organizing for Social Change, the most widely-used manual on progressive activism in the country.

The "cake" vs. "crumbs" power-sharing struggle continues in Zimbabwe. One of the reasons for the breakdown in the talks is that the government (ZANU-PF) wants the "whole power cake" and wants to give the opposition "crumbs." The intention of negotiations was to divide the "power cake" evenly so that a transitional government could be installed to stabilize the country and pave the way for fresh elections in two years. The memorandum of agreement signed by all parties agreed to this statement:

The parties shall not, during the subsistence of the dialogue, take any decisions or measures that have a bearing on the agenda of the dialogue, save by consensus. Such decisions or measures include, but are not limited to the convening of Parliament or the formation of a new government.

By unilaterally convening parliament, the government violated the agreement. Another intriguing development has been the defection by one wing of the opposition party to join the government. The opposition party Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) is comprised of two factions, one led by Mutambara (smaller faction) and the other by Tswangirai (larger faction). Mutambara defected to join ZANU-PF in an attempt to isolate Tswangirai.

So on Monday, August 25, Parliament was convened and one of the tasks was to vote for the speaker of Parliament. This is a powerful position. To everyone's surprise, the candidate who received the most votes was from MDC Tswangirai! There was spontaneous dancing and celebration in Parliament by the opposition, which was screened live on TV! There have been few occasions for rejoicing in the past few months. But the road ahead is still uncertain and foreboding. Please continue to journey with us through your support and prayers. This is greatly appreciated. Our prayers are with your nation as you prepare for elections.

Nontando Hadebe, a former Sojourners intern, is originally from Zimbabwe and is now pursuing graduate studies in theology in South Africa.

On Sept. 4, I'm going to Philadelphia to attend the premiere of The Ordinary Radicals, a documentary directed and produced by Jamie Moffett, co-founder of The Simple Way. The trailer gives a sense of this project.

While I can't speak for the others who were interviewed for this film, I felt my role was to serve as a cheerleader for the ordinary radicals profiled in this documentary. These spiritual souls don't issue manifestos and declarations about their goals to achieve radical shalom throughout the world. But you can find their work etched into the landscape of their communities. There Christ speaks loud and clear.

Check out their Web site for theatrical screening information, updates, and online DVD orders.

In her book, Rising from the Ashes: Rethinking Church, Becky Garrison profiles 33 church leaders who are seeking to reach those for whom church is not in their vocabulary.