He Resigned the Very Next Day

John Boehner resigned the very next day. Pope Francis, surely one of the most sympathetic figures on the face of the globe today, came to visit America. He spoke to Congress saying, “Your own responsibility as members of Congress is to enable this country, by your legislative activity, to grow as a nation. You are the face of its people, their representatives. You are called to defend and preserve the dignity of your fellow citizens in the tireless and demanding pursuit of the common good . . . a political society endures when it seeks, as a vocation, to satisfy common needs by stimulating the growth of all its members, especially those in situations of greater vulnerability or risk. Legislative activity is always based on care for the people. To this you have been invited, called and convened by those who elected you.” John Boehner announced his resignation the very next day, and why? Because even he tired of a fight a small group is waging that rejects the goal of politics as a means to seek out the “common good.” In short, Pope Francis, love him and respect him though I do, had no impact whatsoever – none, zero, zip. That is both sad, and a little bit predictable. It’s been clear for some time that the message of love and compassion that the church holds dear, is falling on deaf hearts these days. Why?

There are lots of reasons I’m sure, but I just finished reading all of Pope Francis’ public remarks while here in America. By and large, in fact almost completely, they are a gentle, dignified, prodding from an essentially moral man, directed at the powerful on behalf of those who are not. Sometimes he was very specific and sometimes his critiques more oblique, but that was the sum and substance of his message.

I took a preaching class at what is now called Union Presbyterian Seminary, from Elizabeth Achtemeier. She and I weren’t exactly on the same theological page then, and the years have only served to widen that divide. She made a pointed critique of a sermon I had preached. It stung. “Preach about what God does, Sam, preach about what God does.” If she were still with us I’m certain we would disagree about how to describe God’s creative work, but my goodness those words have rung in my ears for more than twenty years and I am forever grateful. I wish she’d been around to make the same pointed critique to Pope Francis. I wish those words were ringing in his ears, but clearly they were not. I think that is why his words, though beautiful and born of a deep love and compassion for all human life, had so little impact.

Everywhere he went we heard that clear, moral voice calling out, asking everyone to make a where all people might have an opportunity to flourish. There were occasional references to God, sure. At his final mass we heard him say that God “scatters the seeds of his presence in the world.” He told us that “God calls . . . ” us to do this and that. He said, “God opens his merciful arms.” (The point being, you should too.) He told some children that “Jesus is joy,” and of course he mentioned that “God loves.” Basically what we got was one long moral lecture peppered with the occasional Christian platitude when what we need is the proclamation of a life that holds meaning, a clarion call to an entirely different reason for being than the current lifeless, faithless cultural norm.

The beauty of the man’s heart shown through. That’s what God is doing. When you see joy in a face like his, that’s what God is doing. There’s a steady, quiet, assuredness that comes from the divine impulse. It is that which we seek; therein lies the common good. It’s the cart before the horse. We don’t so much need the works of compassion as we do the changed hearts of generations who have left any notion of faith behind. We need people living from that space of creative beauty that bursts forth when with open eyes and broken hearts we come to know the love that animates us. The works of compassion will surely follow – no reminder will be needed. I wish he’d said that.