At the Crossroads of Covenant and Compassion

by

Early in my years on the staff of the United Methodist Reporter, I attended a meeting of the General Commission on Religion and Race held in Oklahoma City. Bishop Melvin G. Talbert was then commission president.

During one session a startling demonstration occurred. People unknown to most of those in attendance entered the meeting room and began removing certain people of color. Then they began calling out Spanish-sounding names, trying to match them with people.

At that point, from my front-row seat I saw Bishop Talbert stand up. His physical transformation was remarkable. He seemed to grow in stature, as if some force was inflating his body. His eyes flashed and his "pulpit voice" boomed out, "Stop! What's going on here?"

That's when the masquerade fell apart. One of the commission officers stood up and said, "It's OK, Bishop. It's an exercise." It turned out that the episode was a simulation to sensitize the attendees to the discrimination frequently encountered by members of a racial or ethnic minority group. Even so, Mel Talbert would have none of it.

Skeptics will contend that Bishop Talbert was in on the charade, but what I saw tells me otherwise. Only someone who was prepared to stand up to injustice could have responded with such visible determination to put himself in harm's way on behalf of others. Bishop Talbert reacted as though he genuinely believed that people were being persecuted, and he wasn't going to allow it.

In the 25 years since then, I've respected Mel Talbert based on that authentic gesture. We have no relationship other than professional acquaintance, as we share the respective wariness inherent in being on opposite sides of the media fence. (I don't mind this attitude because few bishops genuinely like us media types; we're always asking uncomfortable questions).

Nonetheless, I can undoubtedly say this: Like his colleague and role model Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Mel Talbert believes in the worth and dignity of each person as a child of God. I won't presume to speak for Bishop Talbert beyond what I've just written. Still, a logical theology stemming from such a perspective sees injustice against any person as the one unforgivable sin Jesus cited in the New Testament: the sin against God's Holy Spirit.

Many have tried to define the exact nature of that one unforgivable sin. For those who view the world through the lens of order, the unforgivable sin is to transgress God's laws as laid down in Scripture, since those laws represent God's will. This perspective has been a framing paradigm of the universal church for millennia: law represents the covenant between God and the people, and among the people themselves.

In contrast, those who view the world through a lens of God's unconditional, unlimited love find the imposition of human order on expressions of divine love to be the unforgivable sin. Unlike the stability that an ordered covenant provides, this viewpoint makes even those who hold it uncomfortable because it involves great risks. Chief among these risks is the vulnerability of being unable to hide behind order when confronted with evil that must be resisted.

These respective faith views seem to oppose one another, when in reality they are two sides of the same divine coin. Order, or shall we say "covenant," establishes relationships, linking God to humans and humans to one another and God's creation. Love, or shall we say "compassion," embodies and enacts relationships by placing the well being of others ahead of one's own safety and security.

The United Methodist Church now stands openly at the crossroads of covenant and compassion. Despite requests to adhere to the UMC's covenant that forbids same-sex marriage, Bishop Mel Talbert and dozens of other clergy have sided with compassion by performing wedding ceremonies for gay and lesbian couples. In Bishop Talbert's high-profile case, the Council of Bishops has asked that a complaint be brought against him, possibly leading to a church trial.

In light of these developments, our covenant has never been more tenuous than it is now. A large minority of our church, some 40 percent or more of lay members and clergy, has been alleging for decades that our compassion is deficient regarding those of a sexual minority. Simultaneously our compassion has never been more partisan. We who practice a theology of unconditional love dismiss our opponents' respect for covenant as idolizing law. Meanwhile we who honor covenant demonize those who elevate compassion. We each behave as if only our own viewpoint were the totality of divine intent instead of faint, flickering sparks of holiness that only catch fire when brought together.

Now this tension between covenant and compassion comes as the crucifixion that we United Methodists have tried to avoid for more than 45 years. If Bishop Talbert's colleague Dr. King was right, and the long arc of history bends toward justice, then The United Methodist Church will cease to exist in the very near future. Some say the covenant was broken at the 2012 General Conference when delegates couldn't or wouldn't agree that God's grace is available to all, let alone assent to a compromise that would have acknowledge our disagreement over the acceptability of homosexual practice.

The pundits may be correct. No covenant can stand when so large a minority of its adherents is oppressed by that same covenant; its downfall is inevitable. When the final break occurs, a great channel of compassion will be lost. Some will gloat, and some will cheer, and some will kick the dust off their feet as they go on their way. Others will mourn our lost denomination as if wailing for Babylon, that great, powerful, luxurious city wiped off the Earth in the Book of Revelation.

Still others, including me, will weep for The United Methodist Church as Jesus did over Jerusalem, who slew its prophets. And we will await whatever new thing God will do.