America the Secular

The Sunday following Veteran's Day, before worship begins, we usually have all the veterans stand, and we applaud them for their service. We did this today. It was a suitable tribute. Later during the service, we pray for our leaders, that they be wise, and lead the country in ways that promote compassion, peace, and security for all within her embrace. That is proper.

But this morning, the Sunday after Veterans Day 2016, our opening hymn was “America the Beautiful.”

I. Just. Couldn't.

I stood, but I did not sing. Don't get me wrong. I consider myself patriotic. And “America the Beautiful” is a glorious song. I so wanted to sing it. It's one of the best songs ever. The poetry alone is an amazing, beautiful word painting: Amber waves of grain, purple mountains majesty, sea to shining sea. It tells of our history. It honors the sacrifices of our predecessors. And it cautions our nation to balance law and liberty. In addition to the message, it's a great melody for an aging soprano - high, but not too high. Uncomplicated. Familiar. I wish they'd sing it more at ballparks.

But not in church.

I can hear gasps all around as I write this. Why not sing it in church? A great Christian nation should acknowledge God's amazing gifts. Should be thankful for what God has bestowed upon us. Should sing praises to this great gift that God has given us.

Whoa. Hold the phone. That's it. Right there.

Never mind whether or not you think we are a Christian nation. That's a whole 'nother long and circular discussion, and many folks might be surprised to learn which side of that debate I come down on (and others might not).

And never mind the whole question of whether our history is 100% something to be proud of. Again, a subject so dense with potential that it generates its own gravitational field.

I really, really don't want to focus on any of that.

What bothered me this morning is that our opening hymn, our call to worship, did not worship God. It worshiped America the Beautiful. And to me, that is disturbing.

The song “America the Beautiful” is about America. More to the point, “America the Beautiful” is a song to America. Not to God, asking for his grace, or thanking Him for our bounteous land. Yes, it references God, but as a bystander. As if God is off in a distant corner, and we're saying to America “Gee, sister, sure would be awesome if God sheds some grace on thee for Christmas.”

So ok, it’s not a song to God, but clearly it’s about God, in that it mentions God, and praises one of God's blessings. I’ll give you that. But to me (and maybe I’ve been wrong all these years), that's not what church is for: to come together to talk about God, as if God wasn’t even in the room. Or to worship his blessings. We don't go to church to worship the great American Craftsman God gave us to live in. Or to sing praises to the meal we ate last night. Or even to worship the awesome parents, spouse, or children that God gave us. We don't worship God's gifts.

We worship the God who bestowed them upon us.

“America the Beautiful,” as much as I love it, praises America. That's maybe a fine thing to do. But not in church. Not in a service meant to praise God. Because among other things, it elevates the state to a place that should be preserved for God alone.

Also consider that there are people who come to church who may not agree with the sentiments of “America the Beautiful.” Who are visitors from another country, or who live in this country, and maybe even think it has a lot of potential, but who aren't all that enamored of the pilgrim's feet or the alabaster cities. And that is their right. Absolutely that is their right. The state does not get to dictate their feelings or opinion. And when it comes to feelings or opinions about the state, neither does the church.
People come to church to praise God. They come to a Lutheran church to praise God in a way that has been defined by the Lutheran church. It should be fairly predictable. If they have sought out a Lutheran worship service, then the hymns, the readings, the liturgy, should be pretty much in line with how they themselves feel about God. But they should not be expected to feel the same way about America as Katharine Lee Bates did. Again, don't get me wrong: Despite our many sins, I swell with pride at being an American. But I don't assume that everyone who comes to my church does. Or at least they shouldn't have to. Their sentiment about the state should not be an issue in a worship service. In the same way that my child should not have to say “Hail Mary, full of grace” at a public school basketball game (or risk feeling conspicuous by not saying it), neither should someone at a their church feel compelled to sing a secular song praising a secular thing that is not part of church doctrine. 

You may think I'm splitting hairs here. Maybe I am. But I was raised in a tradition that did not sanctify things. I'm so hard-line separation-of-church-and-state that I don't think an American flag belongs at the altar. I think Christians should lead by example, not by law. And I have a few problems with the federal tax code, while we're at it. That's not to invite discussion on those points so much as to let you know where I'm coming from.

When you look back at the history of the Lutheran Church, you would have to admit that mine is a very Lutheran perspective. In Luther's time, church and state were so intertwined that Luther's “heresy” put his freedom and his very life in peril. So this is not some new-fashioned wacko liberal nonconformist agnostic apostasy I'm spouting. It's me, as a Christian and a patriot, wanting as much protection for the House of God as I expect for my house on Main Street. It’s not just about protecting the state from the church. It's also about protecting the church from the state.

So if it happens again, I will once more stand and be respectful. But I will not sing. And I will probably mention this to the ministers - not in hysterical tears, accompanied by threats to leave, etc. There are bigger battles ahead. But I will mention it because I am a Christian, and a patriot, as much as I have heard lately that I cannot possibly be either of those things. But that is precisely the point, perhaps: I do not want to have either one of those qualities defined for me by the other.