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This week, the Vatican announced that it would make it easier for conservative Anglicans and Episcopalians--those uncomfortable with women priests and accepting gay people--to join the Roman Catholic Church.  The move surprised Anglican leaders who, evidently, had no idea that the Vatican planned a massive sheep-stealing campaign.  The news sparked lively--and sometimes mean-spirited--debate in both print and online media. 

Most stories pointed to the historic nature of the Vatican's action.  Evidently, not since the Protestant Reformation has Rome invited so many of its former children to come home.  There have been many remarkable individual "returns" of Anglicans to the Roman Catholic Church--most notably the English theologian John Henry Newman or the American bishop Levi S. Ives in the nineteenth century.  But historians strain to remember a mass invitation like this one.

Reporters, however, have missed something important.  While it might be unusual for Rome to formally invite Protestant to return to Mother Church, it is in no way odd for Roman Catholics--especially those in Europe, North America, and Australia--to abandon Rome for Protestant denominations.  For decades, cradle Roman Catholics have been leaving their church in favor of finding congregations that are open to divorce, practice birth control, support women in the ministry, and respect the dignity of gay and lesbian people.  Indeed, according to a 2008 Pew survey, one in ten adult Americans is an ex-Roman Catholic--with the Roman Catholic Church showing intense decline among Anglo- and African-American populations (Hispanic immigration is helping RC membership hold steady). 

A Catholic News service story from 2005 noted that the change was a "constant trickle," saying:

Among those changing denominations, the Roman Catholics generally say they long to breathe the "free air" of the Anglican Communion, with Catholic priests usually saying they plan to marry, the bishop said. The Anglicans usually say they have had enough of the "woolly thinking" of their leadership, he added.  "Anglicans who become Roman Catholic generally become very conservative Roman Catholics, while Roman Catholics who become Anglican tend to become very liberal Anglicans," he said.

These observations have been backed up in a number of academic studies--including my own work.  From 2002-2006, I conducted a Lilly Endowment funded research project on vital mainline churches (findings may be found in Christianity for the Rest of Us) and found that successful mainline congregations had large populations of former Roman Catholics, sometimes as many as a fifth of the members would have once been Catholic (in two Hispanic congregations, every member was a former Catholic). Several of the project pastors had also been Catholic.  In every case, the former Catholics praised the intellectual and spiritual openness of the mainline church as the major reason for switching. And the mainline congregations had accommodated many Roman Catholic faith practices--everything from centering prayer to Marian devotion--to help converts be more comfortable in the new Protestant setting.  

In western Christianity, religious switching is a way of life.  That the Vatican has just figured that out only proves they read polls.  That's it.  This isn't really news.  Churchgoers are a migrant lot--and they are voting for their favorite theologies with their feet.  Sometimes they vote liberal (as in the case of RC's leaving their church) and sometimes they vote conservative (as in the case of Protestants becoming Catholic).  But that they do it--and that their denominations engage in sheep-stealing to boast sagging membership rolls--should surprise no one.  When liberal Anglicans join the Roman Catholic Church en masse or conservative Catholics chose to become Episcopalians....well, that would be news. 

I was too young to remember President John F. Kennedy.  My mother worked on his campaign and hauled her baby (me) along with her to pass out literature.  She assures me that one of my first words was "k-e-n-d-y."  I was barely four when he was shot.  Years later, I asked my mother what was so special about President Kennedy.  Without hesitating, she replied, "He gave us hope.  Hope that things could change.  We needed that."  She paused and a look of sadness swept across her face. "And it was taken away.  Too soon.  They killed hope."

Hope may be shot, taken in an instant of murderous violence.  But, this summer, we have witnessed another way of killing hope--vicious rumor, cynical politics, manipulation, lies, gossip, and fear mongering.  Hope doesn't die in an instant.  Instead, it is has been walking a way of sorrows and put on a cross, whipped, laughed at, life slowly beaten away, breath halting, and joints stretched in pain.  It is a gruesome image, but it needs to be.  Without hope, a people and their civilization cannot survive.  The Bible teaches that.  History teaches that.  To purposefully kill hope is a sin, especially when its only replacement is fear.  No society can flourish with fear as its base.

Over the summer, mainline Protestant clergy have reported to me an increase in fear in their congregations--overt xenophobia and nativism, racist epithets, terrified elderly people thinking their government was about to murder them, threats not to preach on anything related to health and healing (what then, I ask, can clergy possibly preach about if not health?), congregants stocking up on weapons, and people coming armed to church.  One such clergyperson (an army vet), joked that he was looking for a clergy supply store that sells Kevlar vestments to wear while celebrating the Lord's Supper.  

Churches are in the hope business.  Yet, even they are struggling to hold on to hope.  "I feel so alone," one of my minister-friends confided.  "Just a few months ago, it seemed like we could change the world.  Now, everyone is running for cover.  People are scared."  Over and over again, I've heard the same refrain:  What can we do to stop the fear?

Well, one way to overcome fear is to preach healing.  Because Christians are also in the healing business.  Actually, the three great monotheistic faiths all teach that God's desire to heal a broken universe is the central point of faith, that shalom--peace, healing, surrender, and salvation--are the very reason for human existence.  In great religious traditions and in lively spirituality, hope and healing are interconnected.  You can't have one without the other.

For some reason, the White House seems to think that HOPE is a noun.  Once you put it on a poster, or have millions of people vote for it, then it simply is.  But hope is not a noun.  Hope is a verb.  It is active, ever-living, restless.  It needs to be nurtured, taught, envisioned, shared.  Hope for healing; hope for community; hope for global brother- and sisterhood; hope for transformation; hope for a world where neighbors do unto others; hope for a future of grace, mercy, and love. 

Hope is that business of faith communities.  But it is also the business of political leaders.  And that's what President Obama needs to get back to tonight.  Sure, he needs to talk about health care and public options, costs, job creation, and policy points.  More than anything, we need the President to lead back to hope.  You can't have health without hope.  The fear mongers have had their season.  But the hope-killing time is over.  We who know the active power of hope need to stand up.  It is a time for growing hope again.

Yesterday, Ed Schultz posed a question on both his radio program and his MSNBC show:  Where is the religious community on health care? 

Ed, a Christian who admits he is not a regular churchgoer, sees the issue in pretty simple terms.  Jesus healed the sick.  For free.  Period.  Why aren't churches out on the front lines arguing for a compassionate government that will care for the infirm, ill, and dying?  After all, don't these same people understand that America is somehow a Christian nation?

Hey, Ed, I'm a fan.  And since I was driving to the beach, I listened to you for two hours get more and more heated--and take some pretty heated calls--on the issue.  I was with you, buddy.  But I think you missed a thing or two.  Let me help you get the religion story straight.

First, many mainline and liberal churches are on the front lines with this issue.  For example, the Episcopal Church's policy office issued an alert to Episcopalians to contact their members of Congress and has tried to answer questions regarding the current legislation.  And they aren't the only ones.  Most American mainline denominations have policy offices working on this issue (and some have for quite a number of years now, around SCHIP and other health concerns).  In addition to denominational efforts, on August 10, cooperating groups across a theological spectrum kicked off "40 Days of Health Care Reform" campaign to rally faith communities to support new health care policies.   There are lots of Christians--mainstream, mainline, moderate, liberal, emergent, and progressive ones--who care about healing as a social and spiritual issue.

Second, and I say this quite ruefully to you, Ed:  mainstream religion is of little interest to most of the media.  Ed, while you may be quite supportive of the Episcopal Church or the 40 Days Campaign, you really wanted to know where James Dobson, Joel Osteen, Rick Warren, and Franklin Graham stood on health care.  Ed, you wanted to know about the leaders of the conservative evangelical community--the big TV preachers and religious right political types.

I can tell you where they are.  They are hiding.  Some people think that evangelical opposition to abortion is keeping them away from the health care bill (the abortion issue is a factor worrying some Roman Catholics).  But I think that many conservative evangelicals are using abortion as a way to duck addressing the issue.  In Washington, religious leaders know that abortion is pretty much off the table in regards to the health care bill.  The Hyde Amendment will keep the government from paying for abortion (as long as the Hyde Amendment remains in force) and private insurance companies will--or will not--pay for abortion as their policies dictate.  As you rightly pointed out, Ed, abortion stays status quo in the current discussion.

The real thing keeping these leaders from speaking out is that large segments of their audiences suspect that President Obama is the Antichrist, the long-predicted evil political leader who will usher in a universal socialist state, complete with a false religion that will doom untold millions to eternal damnation with "666" stamped on our foreheads.  "Becoming Russia" is code language for these fears--whether overtly or intuitively understood.

In other words, Ed, this isn't a health care debate.  This is the Apocalypse.

The most chilling aspect of the apocalyptic fever gripping the Bible Belt right now?  I can't think of a time when American fundamentalists believed that the Antichrist was the President of the United States.  Typically, fundamentalists have identified the Antichrist as someone outside the United States--Hitler, Stalin, Gorbachev, or Saddam Hussein to name a few recent candidates.  A few fundamentalists thought Bill Clinton might be the Antichrist, but he was more often seen as the "forerunner" the real bad guy, a kind of wicked John the Baptist-type preparing the way for the big apocalyptic show.   And for whatever perverse reason, Barack Obama is seen as the real thing.  Some Christians have turned inward for the Antichrist; President Obama is the darkness (and I mean "dark") within.  

In other words, Ed, don't expect any sort of rational discussion--or even biblical argument about a compassionate Jesus--to convince these folks.  This isn't rational and sophisticated theology is out of the question.  This is pretty much the worst kind of religion that can be imagined--apocalyptic fervor and biblical literalism stoked by the fears of racism and xenophobia--the sort of stuff that makes me think that the neo-atheists have a point.  Wonder why the town halls are so heated?  It isn't that religion isn't in the room.  Bad religion--and lots of it--is present in the room.  It just isn't the sort of religion that you or I approve of Ed.  It isn't about healing the sick; it isn't about caring for the least of these.   It isn't really about Jesus.  It is about wide-eyed fear over the end of the world as some people know it.

And the only thing that can possibly speak to it is sane religion, the simple teachings of Jesus:  Heal the sick, care for the poor.  

People often ask me why I don't blog more often in the crucible of the news cycle when an issue is "hot."  My friends and editors are always trying to get me to speed up--as I tend to be slow with my words.  Last week, for example, I was quiet as the war of words escalated between partisans in the Professor Gates/Cambridge police affair.  President Obama did, of course, jump in the fray with his poorly chosen assessment that the Cambridge police behaved "stupidly," only to apologize a couple of days later and invite the wronged parties to the White House for beer

President Obama's actions underscore my reticence to enter the blog-fray in heated battle.  By inclination and academic training, I'm a historian.  Historians believe that the more time we have to understand a situation, the better.   When seeing the picture of Professor Gates hauled away in handcuffs from his own house, I was shocked.  But I also suspected that something had happened of which I was unaware.  As a commentator, I had a sense of my own limitations.  Better, I thought, to let the picture speak for itself.  And better to hold back before starting to call someone names like "racist" or "bigot" or "idiot" or "rogue cop" or whatever.  The escalation is even more shocking than the original event--culminating yesterday with Glenn Beck calling President Obama a racist!

If nothing else, the events leading up to today's Beer Summit at the White House have underscored the importance of slow words.  Although progressive Christians are known for activism, liberal and progressive Protestantism also is marked by a commitment to intellectual analysis.  As a group, we are often painfully slow at decision-making--sometimes to the point of institutional paralysis.  But we are so slow because we believe that the world is a complex place that defies black-and-white (no pun intended) characterizations.  In particular, morality and ethics are often shades of grey, a shadowy realm of mixed human motives and less-than-perfect choices.  In my religious tradition, moving slowly is a spiritual practice--one that accounts for careful and thoughtful engagement with important ideas and events.

The progressive emphasis on thoughtful analysis is more than a matter of taste or the privilege of educated elites.  It is drawn from--what is arguably the most important of all liberal Christian sacred texts--the New Testament Letter of James.   This week's shouting match is well-described in this ancient paragraph:

For all of us make many mistakes . . . The tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great exploits.  How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire!  And the tongue is a fire.  The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of nature, and is itself set on fire by hell . . . No one can tame the tongue--a restless evil, full of deadly poison (James 3: 2-8).

The letter's author goes on to say that the tongue is corrected only by "works done with gentleness born of wisdom," by those who "make peace."  Quick and uninformed judgment must be restrained by a quest for wisdom.

Here, at Progressive Revival, Paul Raushenbush and I are trying to create a blog space that reflects the deepest virtues and values of mainline Protestant traditions--a way of being in the world that believes to hold back the tongue--even for a moment--creates the space for understanding, opens new possibilities, and allows us to glimpse God's reign.  Consideration, discernment, and thoughtfulness should never be an excuse to avoid action; rather, they should frame the way we act.  We're not in a contest for speed; we're on a journey toward wisdom. 

In the midst of the fray, I humbly invite spiritual progressives into a "slow word" movement.  Like the "slow food" movement that argues food must be savored to be healthy, so care-filled words also need to be digested in order to be wise, to act justly, and to make peace.  Slow words are a spiritual practice, one much needed in a world of junk politics and faux news events.  Slowing down, guarding our words, might reintroduce a measure of reality into our lives. In order to change the world, we must first learn to bridle the tongue.