Three men are sitting at a table, a rich guy, a tea party member, and a union worker. In front of them are twelve cookies. The rich guy takes eleven of the cookies and he leans over to the tea party guy and he whispers, “That union worker wants your cookie.”
It’s called class warfare and we’ve seen several examples of it in recent weeks – in Wisconsin, in Ohio, and even here in Michigan. Class warfare, the rich person would say, is when the poor and the middle class want the rich to pay their fair share of taxes. That would be class warfare. The rich would say that when they want the poor and the middle class to pay the rich person’s tax burden, that’s not called class warfare, that’s called sound economic policy.
Jon Stewart, a week or so ago, had a brilliant piece about class warfare. He showed clips from the Fox News Channel, of Fox commentators talking about what teachers make in Wisconsin. The Fox News commentators were saying things like, “They make fifty thousand dollars a year! Fifty thousand dollars a year! That’s a lot of money! Fifty thousand dollars a year! That’s a lot of money!” Then Jon Stewart played clips from a few months ago when debate was raging in Washington about whether to allow the Bush tax cuts to expire for those making $250,000 or more. Those same Fox News commentators said, “Two hundred fifty thousand dollars, that’s hardly anything! Who can live on that? Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars! That’s chump change! Who can make a living on $250,000? That’s not rich!” It’s called class warfare.
Who would Jesus tax? That was a piece, maybe some of you saw it, that I wrote for the Grand Rapids Press and the Holland Sentinel in which I suggested that the flat tax in Michigan, 4.35 percent, be lowered 2 percent on those making less than $10,000 a year and be raised 2 percent on those making more than $100,000 a year. I said, “What would Jesus do if Jesus were in the legislature?” Jesus said things like, “Blessed are you who are poor, but woe to you who are rich.” Jesus had an affinity for the poor, but not necessarily for the rich. So what would Jesus do? Legislators have to ask themselves that question if they consider themselves Christians. People who go into the voting booth have to ask themselves that question if they consider themselves Christian, when they’re deciding who to vote for for the legislature, I said.
Then a guy wrote a response to that and said, “Let’s not drag Jesus into this. Jesus never sat in the legislature. Jesus never set foot in a voting booth. We can’t ask ourselves what would Jesus do.” What? I thought that’s what Christians are supposed to do, say, “What would Jesus do?” There are bracelets for this situation. But apparently, according to that guy, that’s not what Christians are supposed to do. The reason pastors and chaplains drag Jesus and people like Jesus into this is because Jesus speaks with a prophetic voice. Pastors and chaplains don’t, right?
I was sitting in class in seminary a few years ago and we were listening to our professor. Then another professor burst into the classroom. He said, “This will just take a minute. I just have to ask the students what they think the Reformed Church in America should do to be welcoming to more people.” He said, “I want to hear the students’ voices.” The students would raise their hands and say things like, “We need to be more welcoming to young people.” “Oh, good point!” he said and he’d write that down. Then I leaned over to my friend Denise, who’s African American, and I said, “Should I say that the RCA should be more welcoming to lesbians and gays?” She said, “Bill, that’s why you’re here!” [Laughter] So I raised my hand and said, “Well, maybe the RCA should be more welcoming to lesbians and gays.” The professor said, “Well, let’s bracket that for now and move on to other suggestions.” Apparently he didn’t want to hear my voice.
A friend of mine is a minister in the Reformed Church in America. He was in a meeting about a year ago of other RCA ministers and RCA leaders. The question was raised, “How can we be more prophetic in our ministry?” One of the leaders in the RCA said, “Whenever I think of a prophetic presence in ministry, I think of Bill Freeman.” I said, “What?” When my friend was telling me this, I thought he was pulling my leg. A prophetic presence? Me?
The other day I was at the seminary, visiting a friend, and ran into a professor I had and he said he appreciated the letters and essays I write for the Grand Rapids Press and the Holland Sentinel. He said, “You give people in this area something to think about, something they ordinarily wouldn’t.” And then he said, “It’s not easy being a prophet.” I said, “No, I don’t suppose it is.” Then we parted and I thought, “Well, wait a minute. Was he saying that I’m a prophet? No.”
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a prophet. He spoke truth to power. He said things like, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” Dr. King was a prophet. I’m no Dr. King. I’m no prophet. Gandhi was a prophet. He spoke truth to power. He said things like, “Victory by violence is tantamount to defeat.” Gandhi was a prophet. I’m no Gandhi. I’m no prophet. William Sloane Coffin was a prophet. William Sloane Coffin spoke truth to power. He said things like, “Even if you win the rat race, you’re still a rat.” William Sloane Coffin was a prophet. I’m no William Sloane Coffin. I’m no prophet.
Eugene Peterson has a new book out. It’s called, “The Pastor: A Memoir.” Eugene Peterson is a retired Christian minister. He translated the Bible into modern poetic language, called “The Message,” several years ago. Eugene Peterson says in his book that early in his pastorate he was invited by a psychologist, along with 15 or so other clergy members, to meet every Tuesday morning. The psychologist talked to them about the mental problems that people might have in their houses of worship. He told the clergy to look for those kinds of things in their congregations. So that’s what Eugene Peterson did. He started looking at his parishioners as problems to be solved. Until one day it dawned on him, “Wait a minute. That’s not what I’m called to do. I’m not called to look upon my parishioners as problems to be solved. I’m called to look upon my parishioners as children of God.” It was at that moment that he knew that he was called to be a pastor.
In reading that section of Eugene Peterson’s book, it dawned on me what I’ve been called to be. (Try not to laugh.) I think I’ve been called to be a prophet, or at least to try to be a prophet. Maybe in 40 or 50 years I’ll get there. To speak truth to power. I now know why I wanted to start Interfaith Congregation. To speak prophetically to the religious world that all of us are one. We shouldn’t be divided by denominations or separated by spiritual traditions. We’re all one. I now know why I went to Holland City Council and asked them to pass a gay rights ordinance. Because I wanted to speak prophetically to the people of Holland that all of us are equal and should be treated equally. I now know why I write letters and essays to the Holland Sentinel and the Grand Rapids Press. Because I want to speak prophetically to the people of West Michigan that the model we should follow is The Golden Rule, not “He who has the most gold rules.” I now know that I’m supposed to be a prophet or at least a prophet wannabe.
I know I can’t pretend to be someone or something I’m not. I know I can’t pretend to be Benny Hinn and tell people that they’re healed in the name of Jesus. I know I can’t pretend to be Pat Robertson and tell people that, coincidentally, God hates the same people I do. (Oh, I know there are some people who think that I do that, too, and I’m working on it.) I know I can’t pretend to be Joel Osteen and tell people that God wants them to be rich. I have to be me. I have to speak as prophetically as I can.
Now there’re some disadvantages and some dangers in being a prophet. One of the dangers of being a prophet is that a prophet is supposed to be righteous. But there’s a thin line between being righteous and being self-righteous. I’m hoping that you all will let me know if I cross that line. [Nodding of heads] One of the disadvantages of being a prophet is, you’re not going to get rich. If I wanted to make a profit rather than be a prophet, I would become a traditional, fundamentalist, orthodox Christian preacher and tell people that the only way to get to heaven is through Jesus and that God wants them to be rich. Another one of the disadvantages of being a prophet is, as they say, “A prophet is not without honor, except in his own home and in his own town.” After asking the Holland City Council to pass a gay rights ordinance, I know what that means. Another of the dangers of being a prophet is prophets are oftentimes killed. I’d like to try to avoid that one. [Laughter]
I want to assure you that even though I think I’ve finally figured out what I’m supposed to do, every sermon I preach won’t be a prophetic sermon. I’ll still preach theological sermons and pastoral sermons and spiritual sermons, but I will mostly preach prophetic sermons, because I feel that’s what I’ve been called to do.
“The Spirit of God is upon me, for God has anointed me. God has sent me to proclaim good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release the prisoners, to proclaim the year of God’s favor.” Those are the words that the prophet Isaiah lived by. Those are the words that the prophet Jesus lived by. Those are the words that I will live by, or at least try to. What about you? Do you feel like you should be speaking prophetically? What form would your prophetic voice take? Let us resolve, you and I, to speak prophetically, to speak truth to power, whenever the Spirit moves us.
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