First Unitarian Universalist Church of New Orleans
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Did you ever wonder how the Founding Fathers first came up with the idea of voting? After all, there was no voting in England, no voting in Holland, none in France, none in Spain or Portugal. All over Europe, there were kings and queens and other hereditary rulers. Before the Revolution, most colonists had not even been able to choose their own governors; these had almost always been appointed from overseas.
It is true that the drafters and signers of the Declaration of Indepen-dence and the Constitution were men of the Enlightenment, and were well versed in studying ancient Greece and Rome, where the idea of democracy was born. But it’s a mighty big leap from long-ago Greek and Roman times to the Age of Reason in the 1700s. Did they just make it up, or had the framers experienced the responsibility of voting somewhere closer to home?
The fact is, there WAS voting in the original 13 colonies, and in a few cases, it wasn’t just the men exercising the franchise. Since the first arrival on these shores, colonists who belonged to liberal congregations made important decisions by voting – in the Congregational churches (which evolved into 2 camps when the Unitarians split off in the early 1800s), the Universalist churches, and the Quaker meetings (where decisions were made by consensus, not exactly voting, but it still far removed from religious authoritarian rule by hierarchy).
Voting became enshrined in liberal churches for theological reasons that had nothing to do with politics. Unlike conservative religions that viewed humanity as fallen and depraved, helpless on their own to choose appropriately between good and evil, religious liberals asserted that human beings were endowed by their Creator with both free will and a functioning conscience, and thus equipped to make moral and ethical judgments. Indeed, it was the liberal view that humanity had been given the responsibility to make such decisions by God as part of the divine plan. And so, from earliest times, members of American liberal congregations prayerfully and reverently voted on all matters of importance in their churches.
Think of it – because so many colonists had the experience of voting in their congregations, making their own decisions by the free exercise of their conscience in matters that were sacred and holy, it is only natural that their minds would turn to resentment of secular decisions made thousands of miles away, without their having a say. If free will and free choice and the free exercise of conscience were good enough in godly matters, how could coercive rule be justified in worldly matters?
While this is certainly not the way I was taught about the American Revolution, the truth remains that congregational polity, or congregational democracy, voting in church, was part of the inspiration for the demand for voting by the Founding Fathers. From an act of sacred covenant within a religious congregation, voting became a secular sacrament celebrating citizenship.
In Unitarian Universalist churches of today, becoming a voting member is considered a big step, and voting at congregational meetings is stressed as both a duty and a privilege. Newcomers to a church are welcomed to participate in all church activities, join any committee or team, contribute in any way they wish – except they cannot vote in congregational elections unless they commit themselves by signing the Membership Book. Helping to make the decisions in the life of the church – the budget, the leaders, the minister, whether or not to buy or sell property – becomes a sacred responsibility, a kind of sacrament. Not to participate is to signal a lack of commitment to the values and ideals of the church. And so it is, analogously, in political voting. It is a sacrament of citizenship; it is a way of demonstrating concretely one’s commitment to the values and ideals of the country.
It is time once again to participate in the sacrament of voting, to go to the polling place in your precinct and stand in a long line with your neighbors and make decisions about local and state officials, changes in local laws and ordinances, and choose the president of the United States for the next 4 years. It is a time of great decision, and all of us need our greatest powers of discernment and the guidance of the Spirit of Life, in order to choose our leaders well.
As my colleague Rev. Dr. Forrest Church, Minister of Public Theology at All Souls Unitarian Church in Manhattan, preached 4 years ago, all of the candidates from which we are to make our choices are flawed men and women. Not one is perfect; not one is ideal. As in every election since the dawn of democracy, we must choose between differing sets of flaws and shortcomings and differing sets of skills and talents, doing the best we can with the choices we have. I have made my decision, I know how I will vote on Tuesday, but I have not deluded myself that my preferred candidates are free from flaws or as good as they could possibly be. But they are, to my way of thinking, the best of the choices presented to me in this election, and I will cast my votes with a placid heart, if not with passion.
Passion’s a great thing to have in an election, but it is not necessary. I have had passion for candidates and for issues and it does make elections more exciting. But most of the times that I have voted in my life it has been with less than avidity. I know there are those who consider it their duty NOT to vote unless they are enthusiastic and committed about a particular candidate. “How can I pick between Tweedledum and Tweedledee?” they ask, or “The candidate I really wanted didn’t make it this far – I don’t care enough to vote.” I know there are others who feel they cannot vote unless they have gathered and digested every possible bit of information about the issues or candidates before them. “I don’t feel right voting,” these overly-conscientious folks say, “because I don’t know enough to make a good decision.”
Back when I was single, I dated a man who told me (I kinda thought of it actually as a “confession”) that he had never voted. “Never?” I asked him, goggle-eyed. I was thinking of when I was 16 and 17, when the voting age was still 21, and how frantic I was to vote, and with what emotion I cast my first ballot; I was thinking of campaigns when the candidate had my heart as well as my vote, and elections when voting seemed especially vital and important. I couldn’t imagine never having voted.
“No,” he said, “I’m so busy, I just don’t have time to fully investigate candidates and their claims. So rather than be an uninformed voter, I don’t vote.” He seemed a little proud of his stance – don’t vote at all if you’re not informed, but I was appalled. I broke up with him soon after.
I thought to myself, “I’d rather have a partner who votes opposite me than one who never votes at all.” Be careful what you wish for – 3 years later I met and married my spouse Eric, who most of the time does indeed vote opposite me. But he takes the responsibilities of citizenship seriously, he makes a stand, and he is sincere and informed in his beliefs. To me, that’s way better than not voting.
Neither of those attitudes – waiting for passion and trying to be completely informed – is conducive to the sacrament of voting. Perfect is the enemy of the good. The covenant we share demands much of us – our commitment as much as our participation. Voting is a sacrament not because it is without flaw, not because it always produces perfect decisions, but because we all promise that we are in this together, however broken and faulty this human endeavor.
We face a challenge in this election. Will we vote our fears and our dislikes, or will we vote our ideals and our hopes? Will we refuse to vote out of pique or disappointment? Will we choose rightly?
But we are not the only ones who face a challenge. In his latest election day sermon, “Religion and the Body Politic,” Forrest Church writes:
Our next president will face a challenge ... greater than any we have faced in recent decades. He must rise to the occasion and we must rise with him. If he fails to rise, it is our responsibility to present not a partisan but a patriotic demand that he and the congress put aside their base-pleasing talking points and act on behalf of all the American people, first, by making the hard decisions that will right our economy. And second, by conducting our foreign policy in a way that will make our nation and our allies once again proud of America at its best.
And so we must rise. We must rise to the occasion of Election Day, whether for us it is exciting or tedious, a joy or a mere duty. And after the election, no matter which candidates win, we must rise above partisanship and preferences to urge on all our elected officials at every level to act in the best interests of all the American people. And only when we do this will we be able to be proud of America at its best. May this happen, and soon. AMEN – ASHE – SHALOM – SALAAM – NAMASTE – BLESSED BE!
