On Being Presbyterian

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Matthew 23: 1-12


It is Reformation Sunday—the last Sunday in October—an occasion offered to us every year in our church calendar to take special time in our worship and preaching to remember our heritage as Presbyterians and consider what pieces of our heritage maintain a lasting relevance in our current era.

We are, after all, a denomination that claims its origins in the Protestant Reformation of sixteenth century Europe. We are a denomination whose roots are in resisting what our forbears believed to be the corrupted power and influence of a class of clergy that separated themselves from the people. A denomination whose roots are in recovering the original source of the teachings of Jesus and stripping away the trappings of cultural excess that co-opt the gospel for its own purposes. A denomination whose roots are in the radical truth that God’s grace alone is all we can ever depend on, that God alone is all we can ever depend on, that God alone is the lord of our conscience.

We are, in fact, a denomination whose roots are in the teaching of Matthew’s Gospel lesson for us today. Don’t be like the Pharisees, Jesus tells his disciplies and the crowds surrounding them. Yes, they “sit on Moses’ seat,” and they are good and qualified teachers of the tradition. You should listen to what they say. But “they tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others.” They turn the gift of Sabbath, the gift of the community, the gift of releasing one’s burdens through public rituals into even greater burdens, when they are supposed to be blessings. Even worse, the Pharisees have given themselves over to the perks of their position, propping up their image instead of truly caring for the needs of the people. Every one of these being a fault that the sixteenth century Reformers saw mirrored in the Roman clergy they found themselves resisting. And because those reformers took the gospel lesson seriously, here we are five hundred years later with an entirely new denomination on a new continent with a rich legacy of our own to resist and reclaim.

Part of our rich legacy as a denomination lies in the enormous role Presbyterians played in the early formation of this country that is our home. The United States Constitution, for example—and the general principle of representative democracy, where power is shared and no one person has ultimate authority—is directly related to the Presbyterian form of government. Presbyterians, by and large, supported the American Revolution, as well. A large number of the signers of the Declaration of Independence were Presbyterian. John Witherspoon, the only member of the clergy who signed the Declaration, was a Presbyterian minister.

And just to give us some perspective on the more contemporary influence of Presbyterianism in our common life, I offer you the following sample of noted Presbyterians: Fred Rogers, of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood was a Presbyterian minister; Mark Twain was a Presbyterian; David Brinkely was a Presbyterian; Sally Ride grew up Presbyterian (and her sister is an ordained minister in California); Presidents Dwight Eisenhower and Ronald Reagan, as well as Vice President Walter Mondale were all Presbyterian; and just to put things in really important perspective Jimmy Stewart, John Wayne, and Shirley Temple were Presbyterian, too. How could we ever have gotten along without these Presbyterians! Surely we are part of a rich, long legacy of faithful people who lived good and decent lives and made a significant contribution to the world at large. Life as we know it would not exist without the Presbyterian tradition. We have every right to hold some small measure of pride in the rich heritage that is ours to claim today.

But while there are many lifelong Presbyterians among us who may already be well aware of our heritage and our famous sisters and brothers in the faith, many of us united with a congregation of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) in our adulthood, including yours truly. It used to be that when people of one denomination moved to another town or state, they would look up the nearest church in that denomination and transfer their membership there. This is no longer the case. Some of us intentionally align with the values and teachings and history (and perhaps even the famous people) of our particular denomination, but most of us simply stumble upon a church that we like, or a pastor we like, or a music program we like, and take on the Presbyterian label as just one more piece of the package. Am I right?

In fact, most sociologists who study American religion in its current trajectory are warning those of us who cling tightly to a particular denominational heritage that we are out of step with the majority of our parishioners and with the population at large. American religion has entered a new era of “post-denominationalism,” these scholars say, where most of us hop from one denomination to another—or even from one distinct religious tradition to another—depending on our particular needs at particular moments of our lives, and depending on what options are available in a new location for a highly transient population.

And all of this is just fine, in my opinion. Because the very Gospel Lesson that the 16th Century Reformers used to justify their resistance to Roman rule warns all of us who follow in their footsteps of the dangers of placing too much authority in any human institution—or any human being representing that institution—including, and perhaps especially, our own.

The Pharisees, after all, are not such a different group of people from modern day Presbyterians. They, like all Jews living under Roman occupation in first century Judea, are trying to figure out how to be faithful to the tradition of their ancestors while at the same time resisting the occupation of the Roman empire. At least one first century historian—by the name of Josephus—describes the Pharisees as a group that lives simply and protects what is worth fighting for, as people who “love one another and practice consensus in their community.” And they have—by far—the most popular support among first century Judeans.

The Sadducees, on the other hand, as priestly aristocrats who are caught up in Temple sacrifices, are perceived by the people to be overly friendly with Rome. The Essenes, who live in austere, celibate community in the desert of Qumran, are perceived by the people to be escapists. The Zealots, who seek to overthrow Rome with military might and have already provoked a violent retaliation, are perceived by the people to be far too dangerous.

We, who are twenty-first century American Christians know the Pharisees predominantly as the legalistic opponents of Jesus. The Protestant Reformers of 16th century Europe know the Pharisees as the prototype of all that is wrong with the religion they are seeking to reform. But in comparison with the other sects of first century Judaism, the Pharisees are not really so bad. In fact, they are good. They are really, really good. They are the scholars and the teachers—and, I might add, the preachers!—who have taken on the job of educating the masses regarding the best ways to adapt Mosaic Law to their entire lives. The Pharisees, by and large, believe the best way to be delivered from Rome is to live as faithfully as possible in accordance with the Law of Moses. And they believe God has commissioned them, by and large, to instruct others into the same fidelity.

Some might say this is a good working job description for a twenty-first century Christian pastor, the “teaching elder,” as the new Presbyterian Form of Government calls us. We are supposed to “be committed to teaching the faith and equipping the saints for the work of ministry . . . so that they people are shaped by the pattern of the gospel and strengthened for witness and service.” Concerned about, as our tradition calls it, “rightly preaching the Word and rightly administering the Sacraments.” Concerned about offering the people a chance to relinquish their burdens of sin and oppression and receiving the grace of God in response. Concerned with cultivating a community that is well-educated about the tradition and its modern-day application to our lives. We are . . . I can’t believe it . . . supposed to be Pharisees! What would the Reformers say?!

How about something like this?

On this Reformation Sunday—which can far too easily succumb to a state of “Presbyterian Pride”—the message is fairly straightforward: don’t do it! Just don’t do it. And the reason is this: the tradition, in the end, is not about you. It’s not about your country. It’s not about your movies and your television shows. It’s about God! And God is doing amazing things in your life and in the world, and we in the church want to be part of it. Plain and simple. Nothing else matters.

Many of us who land in this particular congregation at Madison Square have a story to tell about the Pharisees from whom we are fleeing, of the “church hurt” that has led us to a new home. But really, in the end, every one of us fits the description of the Pharisees in Matthew’s Gospel. Those who crave public approval, who fails to practice what we preach, who think we are passing on a blessing when in fact it can become a curse. Presbyterian ministers just as much as everyone else, and in fact sometimes more. That is the nature of religious institutions, and we are just plain stuck with it. When I was a senior in college lamenting this reality to my grandmother, she shared her own struggles with this truth. Yes, “the church wants to put chains on my soul,” she told me she had felt throughout her life. “But,” she said, “I don’t have to let it.” And neither do we.

The good news of the gospel really is this: God’s grace works through even us, even these inadequate, far too human, far too “Pharisaic” institutions, to bless the entire world. Even through you. Even through me. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to do anything. It’s simply here . . . ready, in this font of identity, in this table of sustenance, in this book of memory and promise, any time you want to come home. So welcome home.

This is what it means to be Presbyterian, after all. That God has welcomed you home, just the way you are. Not asking for fancy dress or public displays of piety. Just as you are. Whether you are John Wayne or our newest member to be received by the session after worship today or anyone else in between.

So I invite you in these next few moments of worship simply to rest in the goodness of who God is, and who God created you to be, and who God created this church to be. Knowing that God’s grace is sufficient to carry you through whatever burdens you bear and whatever burdens our tradition may unfairly place upon you. Trusting that Christ’s burden is easy and Christ’s yoke is light. And that the one God who claims us all is always leading us home.

I pray it may be so. Amen.