A Welcoming Table

By Henry G. Brinton, , Huffington Post, April 18, 2012

Everyone knows about Easter morning, when a group of women discover the empty tomb. Many people also know the story of Easter afternoon — the walk to Emmaus in which two disciples encounter a mysterious stranger who reveals himself to be the risen Christ.

But how about Easter evening? Who knows what happens then? Luke’s story of Jesus appearing to his disciples in Jerusalem is less well known, but is equally important. It revolves around a table instead of a tomb.

A meal is familiar territory for Jesus. He is famous for feeding crowds of 5,000 (Luke 9:10-17) and 4,000 (Mark 8:1-10), and notorious for eating with tax collectors and sinners (Luke 7:34). His hospitality reveals his desire to nourish people both physically and spiritually.

At a table, he eats with a Pharisee and forgives a sinful woman (Luke 7:36-50) and institutes the Lord’s Supper (Luke 22:14-20). He later hits the beach to cook a fish breakfast for his disciples (John 21:1-24). Jesus offers a welcoming table and instructs his followers in the nature of hospitality with the words, “when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind” (Luke 14:13).

Jesus welcomes everyone to his table, and how different this is from the practice of Christian hospitality in American politics today.

The Christianity of many voters is a distinctly unwelcoming table, with strict theological and moral boundaries. Evangelicals in Iowa and Michigan preferred Rick Santorum by double digits over Mitt Romney, and in South Carolina they voted for Newt Gingrich over Romney, 45 percent to 21 percent.

Why was this? Because Romney is a Mormon. According to a Pew Research Center national poll on the 2012 election, a majority of white evangelical Protestants view Mormonism as a non-Christian faith.

Evangelicals are suspicious because Mormons do not embrace traditional Trinitarian theology, which sees God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But Mormons are enthusiastic followers of Jesus, with strong family values and an alcohol-free lifestyle. Curious, isn’t it, that these qualities are considered to be less important in a presidential candidate than theology?

Erecting barriers around Christ’s table is not done primarily to keep Mormons out. Santorum has said that President Obama has a “phony theology,” Gingrich has labeled the Obama administration “anti-religious,” and about half of Republican voters in Alabama and Mississippi think that the president is a Muslim. Although Obama reaffirmed his Christian faith at this year’s National Prayer Breakfast, many conservatives balk at his links between the teachings of Jesus and tax increases on the wealthy.

Republicans and Democrats are going to disagree about politics. That’s a given. But Christians should resist the temptation to erect barriers around the welcoming table of Jesus Christ.

Jesus came to knock down walls and widen the circle of inclusion, rather than draw strict theological and moral lines. Not that Jesus had no standards — he spoke against divorce (Mark 10:11-12) and criticized those who neglected “justice and mercy and faith” (Matthew 23:23). But his mission was focused on opening God's kingdom to more and more people.

The first thing that Jesus says to his frightened disciples on Easter evening is “Peace be with you” (Luke 24:36). These words are addressed to all of the gathered disciples including Peter, who had denied him (22:54-62). To prove that he is really alive and anxious to resume his table fellowship with them, Jesus asks for some food and eats a piece of broiled fish in their presence (24:38-43).

Then Jesus tells them, “Everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” He opens their minds to understand the scriptures, and says to them that what was written has come true — the Messiah has suffered and risen from the dead, and now “repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem” (vv. 45-47).

Jesus intends to widen the circle of inclusion, and the good news is that many Christians across the theological spectrum are following in his footsteps today. At evangelical Saddleback Church in California, members are encouraged to listen to the pain of others in small groups focused on healing, and group leadership is made up of people who have struggled with the particular brokenness of the group. To lead alcoholics, you must be a recovering alcoholic, and to help women who are healing from the trauma of abortion, you must have had an abortion.

At progressive Washington National Cathedral in DC, Sunday worship is followed by a forum on critical issues such as a “What You Need to Know About Islam,” taught by the Muslim chaplain at Georgetown University. The Cathedral also hosts a women’s interfaith book group called “Daughters of Abraham,” made up of Jewish, Christian, and Muslim women who meet monthly. In addition, it has convened groups of African-American pastors to talk with white pastors about teaching in the tradition of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Such churches are offering a welcoming table through small group gatherings, shared meals, and hospitable services of worship. As they meet, eat, and worship together, they discover that healing and reconciliation can happen.

Hospitality happens best at the local level, as is being seen in Roman Catholic institutions around the inclusion of LGBTs. DePaul University in Chicago established a LGBTQ resource center in 2003, and more recently Georgetown University created a center in response to a hate crime that victimized a student in 2007. More than 100 Catholic institutions of higher learning now have an association dedicated to supporting LGBT students. This is in spite of the fact that the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops teaches that the homosexual inclination is “intrinsically disordered” and that gays and lesbians must lead a “chaste and virtuous life.”

While the church hierarchy continues to exclude sexually active homosexuals from public roles of service and leadership, many Catholics in the pews are encouraging acceptance and inclusion. A 2010 study by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life reveals that 49 percent of white Catholics support gay marriage, and a full 71 percent are in favor of same-sex marriage defined explicitly as civil marriage. These Catholics are seeing the value of following Jesus in the covenant of marriage, regardless of sexual orientation.

Politicians and church leaders who try to set a small table are ignoring the fact that Jesus makes it bigger, as does the Bible. The biblical story of ever-increasing inclusiveness begins with the marriage of a Moabite woman to an Israelite man in Ruth, continues with the “house of prayer for all peoples” predicted by Isaiah 56:7, and concludes with the welcome of non-Jews into Christianity by Peter and Paul, following the instruction of Jesus in Luke that repentance and forgiveness is to be proclaimed “to all nations” (24:47). According to the Bible, whenever humans created a closed system, God broke it open and let new people in.

The story of Easter morning will always be at the heart of the Christian faith, because it proclaims that God has conquered death through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. But equally important is the tale of Easter evening, which tells us how a mighty spiritual movement began with a talk around a truly welcoming table.

Why U.S. politics devolves into good vs. evil

Without a clear "devil" to rally against, Americans turn the knives on each other.

By Henry G. Brinton, USA TODAY, January 23, 2012, 9A

Political debate in the USA is more civil when we have a devil to oppose, whether it is Adolf Hitler, Nikita Khrushchev, or Osama bin Laden. National unity reaches its peaks in times of crisis, such as World War II, the height of the Cold War and the early days of the War on Terrorism. When the threat passes, though, watch out. Because we then turn on each other.

Remember the 1990s? After the Soviet Union fell and the Cold War ended, Americans began to rip each other apart in some of the nastiest political fights of the past 50 years. We lost our devil and began to bludgeon one another, fighting over the Contract with America, appointment of the House chaplain and impeachment trial of President Clinton.

Seeing life as a battle between absolute good and pure evil is a form of dualism that has a long history, appearing in the Middle East about 2,500 years ago.

"A dualistic perspective on reality, claiming there is a pure evil force or person lurking out there, allows people to avoid blaming themselves or their own people for failures or frustrations they experience," says Matthew Skinner, associate professor of the New Testament at Luther Seminary in St. Paul. It is always easier to fight a devil "out there" than to do the hard work of solving our internal problems, as individuals and as a nation.

Needing a common enemy

The 9/11 attacks gave us a common enemy in the terrorists, and for a brief moment we were united. But that unifying moment passed quicker than you can say "Iraq War."

Osama bin Laden was a devilish character, and most Americans cheered when he was killed last year. But he was such a shadowy figure that I'm not sure he could have served as a rallying point for us. Bin Laden's messages were sporadic and unfocused, and over the years it was hard to tell whether he was even alive. Such foes unite us by giving us a focal point for our anger and aggression. But when the enemy disappears (or is hard to see), we demonize each other. Following our dualistic tendencies, we move toward the political extremes and begin to consider fellow citizens with opposing views to be our enemies. (See the Tea Party and Occupy Wall Street movements.)

As comedian John Cleese has observed, "You can be as nasty as you like, and yet feel your behavior is morally justified. So, you can strut around abusing people and telling them you can eat them for breakfast, and still think of yourself as a champion of the truth, a fighter for the greater good, and not the rather sad paranoid schizoid that you really are."

That's what is happening now, as we move through the presidential primary season and then into the general election campaign. Candidates are putting tremendous amounts of time, energy and money into attacks on their opponents, while the blogosphere does what it does best: oozes with vitriol. "Super PACs" are fanning the flames with bucketloads of money, and the razor-edged ads that follow, and the cycle continues.

What we say we want

This political rage is growing in spite of the fact that 61% of Americans believe that the rude tone of U.S. politics is unhealthy for our democracy, according to a national poll in 2010 by the Center for Political Participation.

A reversal of this destructive trend will begin with the recognition that we are energized and united by a battle against evil. This tendency is a part of our cultural makeup, rooted deeply in our religious traditions. As Susan Garrett, professor of New Testament at Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary, points out, "New Testament authors sometimes portrayed enemies as under Satan's power," such as when Paul links "false apostles" to ministers of Satan (2 Corinthians 11:13-15), and when John associates a female prophet with teachings that he characterizes as "the deep things of Satan" (Revelation 2:20-25). In both cases, says Garrett, the enemies are most likely fellow Christians.

Such demonization helps us when we are fighting Hitler but hurts us when we are choosing the next president. So, like addicts who begin their recovery by honestly admitting that they have a problem, we need to accept the fact that we are drawn to a dualistic world view. It is a powerful and deeply rooted approach to life, but not the only one we can take. If we resist the temptation to see everything as good vs. evil, we will discover that there are no true devils in the race for the White House.

It's expected and within bounds for the Republican candidates to paint a less-than-flattering image of President Obama. That's fair politics. But calling the president a "socialist," as the now-sidelined Texas Gov. Rick Perry did, enters into the realm of demagoguery. Not to mention that the "socialist" label would come as a surprise to Barack Obama's most liberal supporters, who are deeply disappointed that he has turned out to be too moderate for their taste.

Of course, "a socialist" is less devilish than "the anti-Christ" — a scurrilous label applied to Obama by the Idaho man who fired a gun at the White House last November, and one that was suggested by a popular YouTube video in 2009.

Such demonization has continued in the just-completed South Carolina primary, as former House speaker Newt Gingrich attacked GOP front-runner Mitt Romney on the work he did as a venture capitalist at Bain Capital— odd for a conservative to accuse his opponent of being too much of a capitalist — and saying at midweek that the Romney campaign would "unendingly dirty and dishonest" ahead of the vote. (At least he stopped short of saying Romney's evil! And he won the primary!)

At the same time, Democrats are sharpening their knives and have made no secret they plan to attack the Republican nominee with devastating blows right up to Election Day in November.

Evil, not just wrong

I realize, of course, that a dualistic world view is an effective way to rally supporters and get out the vote. As Bill Reidway, a politically astute member of my congregation, said to me, "It's easiest to get votes when you can convince people the stakes are high — that is, that the other side is evil, as opposed to just wrong."

Since good and responsible people know that they should never compromise with evil, they end up entering the polling place with a battle mentality. But such an approach only makes sense when Satan is running for president — and despite what you might hear in the darkest recesses of the online world, Satan is not running in 2012. It would be much better for us, as individuals and as a nation, if we saved our righteous anger for the devils that will inevitably appear again as external threats to our nation. Not that foreign foes are a guarantee of domestic tranquility. The McCarthy hearings and Red Scare of the 1950s caused American politics to go off-road and get nasty, even though we had a common enemy. And we always need to keep in mind that the enemies of one generation can morph into the allies of the next.

Better for us to put time, energy and money into fighting the evils that are afflicting us internally, whether we choose to focus on battling substance abuse, racism, sexual addiction, domestic violence or the disintegration of the American family. As always, these threats are harder for us to face, because the demons are inside.

Henry G. Brinton is pastor of Fairfax Presbyterian Church in Virginia, and author of Balancing Acts: Obligation, Liberation, and Contemporary Christian Conflicts.

The Boy with No Dragon Tattoo -- FPC sermon excerpt

This Christmas, you might see a girl with a dragon tattoo.

Not in holiday decorations, but in a movie.

Based on an international best-seller, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo will be released December 21, and promises to be a holiday blockbuster. The story is a mystery, revolving around disappearance of an heiress. A crusading journalist and a young female hacker try to solve it, stirring up a stinking cauldron of personal and industrial corruption.

The hacker is the girl with the dragon tattoo. Named Lisbeth Salander, she is a pierced and tattooed punk prodigy. She works for a security firm, and her boss describes her as the most able investigator he has ever met. She always comes back with something different from what he expects, usually by getting under the skin of the person she is investigating.

While security firms are usually conservative and stable, Lisbeth Salander projects the opposite image. She is a thin, pale woman with short hair and a pierced nose and eyebrows. On her neck is a wasp tattoo, and on one arm and ankle are tattooed loops. And on her left shoulder blade?

You guessed it. A dragon tattoo.

And yet, in spite of her appearance, she possesses a unique gift.

Christmas is also a mystery story, although we do not usually look at it this way. We think we know all about the birth of Jesus, how and where and when and why it happened. But do we? And do we know the true identity of the one who was born?

The boy with the tattoo?

He does not have a dragon tattoo, that’s for sure. The Bible says that Jesus fights and conquers the great dragon, “that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world” (Revelation 12:9). But Jesus is a marked man, and part of the mystery of Christmas is figuring out what his markings mean.

The apostle Paul tells the Christians in Rome that the coming of Jesus is “the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages” (16:25). This mystery included human sinfulness, a stinking pot of personal and communal corruption. At the heart of the story are the numerous attempts that people made over the years to find forgiveness and new life — attempts that include sacrifices in the temple, religious rules and regulations, personal piety, and philosophical inquiry. All of them fell short. All of them left people feeling unforgiven, unfulfilled, discouraged, and disconnected from God.

Then God disclosed something: The identity of his son. This boy, says Paul, “was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be Son of God with power according to the spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 1:3-4).

Jesus is both son of King David and son of Almighty God. Fully human and fully divine. A boy with the ability to solve the most difficult of human problems.

Suddenly, we have a savior who is as human as we are — aware of our temptations and sympathetic to our struggles. But he is also completely divine, able to forgive us and reconcile us to our Creator. He is able to repair the relationship with God that has been shattered by sin.

Jesus can do this because he is a marked man — he carries the mark of the nails in his hands, marks that are still visible after his resurrection (John 20:25-28). Jesus went to the cross for us, taking our sins upon himself, and then he was raised to show God’s victory over sin and death. He was resurrected to show that new life is always possible, both for him and for us.

Jesus is a boy with no tattoo. His only mark is the scar of the cross.

Peace Packages -- FPC sermon excerpt

A Hollywood studio lamp, straight out of the 1940s. An eight-foot tall architectural model of the Eiffel Tower. A space pen that works upside down and underwater.

Are any of these items on your Christmas list? If so, Santa is going to have to visit Restoration Hardware.

This high-end store is where people go when they want to step back in time, and buy an item that reminds them of some golden age from the past. Paris in the 1880s. Hollywood in the 1940s. The space race of the 1960s. It’s a very cool place — I love to wander through it.

At Restoration Hardware, people look back with longing, feeling that something precious has been lost. They want a missing treasure to be restored.

And so do many of us. We look to the past — to our childhoods, our college years — and search for something to complete us.

Now maybe we don’t feel the kind of void that can be filled by a Hollywood floor lamp, crafted of solid aluminum and steel, retailing for $1,995. Yes, that’s right — one lamp, two thousand dollars. Must be a good one, but it is not going to give us the light we need.

Our darkness is not going to be eliminated by a Hollywood floor lamp. Wandering through the darkness of daily life, we stumble and fall, hurt ourselves and others, crash into obstacles and leave a trail of debris behind us. We long for a lantern that will light our path, a beacon to guide us and lead us home. And so we light a candle — an Advent candle. This is done on the first Sunday of the Advent season, and again on the second, third, and fourth.

Each Sunday we light another candle and look for the coming of the Lord. We want the Lord to restore us. Restore our hope. Restore our peace. Restore our joy. Restore our love.

We know we need restoration. Not Restoration Hardware.

Psalm 85 begins with a line that was spoken by the people of Israel, back in their homeland after a time of exile in Babylon: “Lord, you were favorable to your land; you restored the fortunes of Jacob” (v. 1). The people are thankful that their long captivity is over, and that God has forgiven their iniquity and “pardoned all their sin” (v. 2).

But still, something is missing.

The emptiness they feel is very similar to the void that remains deep within us after we earn a degree, start a job, move into a bigger house, or drive a new car off the lot. We know how fortunate we are. We appreciate God’s favor toward us. But still we wonder why everything we thought we wanted still isn’t enough. We wonder why good fortune in this life gives us everything but a sense of peace.

Saint Augustine had it right when he said, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you” (Confessions, Book I, Chapter 1).

True peace will escape us until our restless hearts begin to rest in God. Serenity cannot be granted by a diploma, a promotion, a McMansion, or a luxury sedan. It comes to us as a gift from God, and it includes forgiveness of sin and the restoration of our relationship with the Lord.
True peace comes as a peace package.

The 108-Foot Shepherd -- FPC sermon excerpt

Normally, we think of Jesus as a kind and loving shepherd who cuddles his sheep. He is meek and mild, compassionate and caring.

But what’s happening in Poland might change your mind.

On a rocky hill in that country is the newest, most audacious religious icon in all of Europe, if not the world: A 108-foot-high statue of Jesus. That’s the height of a 10-story building. According to The Guardian (April 5, 2011), volunteers from the town, along with prisoners on day release from the local jail, have been building it for the last 10 years.

On a windy day last spring, a crane gently swayed as work continued on the concrete figure, the brainchild of a local priest. He claims it is the world’s biggest statue of Jesus Christ — bigger even than Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro. This is a sore point with the Brazilians who grumble that the Polish Jesus is cheating — cheating by standing on a mound.

The priest drives a Mercedes with rosary beads hanging from the rear view mirror. When asked why he decided to erect the gargantuan savior, he said, “It was Jesus’ idea: I was just the builder.”

But not everyone agrees that the statue is divine. It is rumored to have cost nearly $3 million, and one Polish resident says, “I think we could spend that money far better. We need schools, we need hospitals, we need better roads.”

What do you think? Should they build a statue or a school? While a 108-foot shepherd may not be the best use for $3 million, it does remind us that Jesus is a big shepherd, one who stands tall over us and dominates our lives. Like an enormous concrete icon, he simply cannot be ignored.

Christ the King Sunday is the day each year that we focus on the rule of Jesus over all of human life, including our own lives. In today’s Scripture lesson, from the book of the prophet Ezekiel, we learn that God rules over us as a powerful shepherd, one who judges and separates his flock, showing a special concern for the weak and the vulnerable. He promises to set up over them one shepherd, his servant David, the king who turns out to be the ancestor of Jesus the Christ.

So what is the character of this big and powerful shepherd? Ezekiel says that he is not afraid to throw his weight around. “I will seek the lost,” says God, “and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, but the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them with justice” (Ezekiel 34:16).

God actively seeks out the lost, brings back the strayed, heals the injured, and strengthens the weak. This means that when we lose our way and begin to behave in selfish or hurtful ways, God seeks us out and confronts us with our sinfulness — we get the wake-up calls that we need. It means that we are never abandoned and left alone in our self-destructive behavior, but are given assistance in turning ourselves around. It means that God forgives our sins, heals our painful memories, restores our minds and bodies to health, and strengthens us for the challenges of the day.

Our Lord is not a small and passive shepherd. Instead, he’s big and he’s active, constantly watching out for the welfare of his sheep.

Servant Eyes -- FPC sermon excerpt

Snake eyes.

That’s what you see when you roll a pair of dice and get two ones. It’s a loser in many games, and often associated with bad luck.

Our ancestors had snake eyes.

But for them, it was really quite lucky.

Over time, our ancient relatives developed eyes that enabled them to detect and avoid their most dangerous predator: The snake. This characteristic allowed them to survive, thrive, and develop into full-fledged human beings.

Genesis has it right, says anthropologist Lynee Isbell: “The snake made us human.”

Just picture an ancient primate, unable to see and identify objects that are close by and in front of her. A poisonous snake is near enough to bite her, so it does — killing her and ending her ability to reproduce. A few yards away is another primate, one whose eyes are slightly better and able to spot the deadly serpent and avoid it. The second primate goes on to be fruitful and multiply, passing her genes through a succession of generations that stretch to the present day.

This is evolutionary biology at its simplest and most profound. Not some kind of dog-eat-dog survival of the fittest, but instead survival of those who have characteristics that enable them to thrive and reproduce. Many of you know that I was a biology major in college — I love this stuff!

Anthropologist Isbell makes this argument in her book The Fruit, the Tree and the Serpent: Why We See So Well. She is convinced that our distant primate relatives developed an exceptional ability to see and identify objects that were close by and in front of them. Those who had this ability were able to avoid snakebites — a very real threat to human life, one that still kills 150,000 people a year.

A church member recently told me a joke about snakes. Two snakes are slithering along together, and one asks, “Are we poisonous?”

“Yes,” says the other. “Why do you ask?”

“I just bit my lip.”

But this particular strand of development did not end with better vision for humans. Our ancient experience with snakes caused us to fear them, creating a deep-seated emotion that pops up in the story of the serpent in the Garden of Eden, and the Rainbow Serpent of Australian myth. The Book of Revelation, which we immersed ourselves in through much of September and October, speaks of “that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world” (12:9).

In addition, snake-spotting shaped the evolutionary path of primate brains, leading to the development of language. Isbell argues that once our ancestors were able to spot serpents, they began to point to them in an effort to communicate the danger to others. This pointing was a critical step in the development of language, which transmitted information that served the good of the community.

Our human development continues today, not by looking down at serpents but by looking up to God. “To you I lift up my eyes, O you who are enthroned in the heavens!” says Psalm 123. “As the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master ... our eyes look to the LORD our God” (vv. 1-2).

We should give our ancestors credit: They developed snake eyes — eyes that enabled them to spot deadly serpents and point them out to others. But the question for us today is this: Have we developed servant eyes? Eyes that can follow the hand of the master, look to the Lord and discern God’s ways?

Future human evolution will challenge us to get our eyes off the ground, and focused on God. Our visual acuity must continue to develop, in the area of spiritual sight.

Wedding days are losing their way -- USA TODAY, October 31, 2011

Magazines and websites love to trot out the latest wedding trends, suchas "vintage touches," "eco-friendliness" and "good night stations." But these are all about style, not substance.

As a pastor, the trends that interest me most involve the sharp decline of marriage in the USA and the rise in non-clergy-officiated weddings.

These are the changes that matter, rather than the modern substitution of cupcakes for a wedding cake. The dropping number of marriages and changing face of officiants will shape the lives of American couples — and their children — for decades to come. These shifts merit some thought as we wrap up this year's wedding season, which runs May through October and typically covers 70% of all ceremonies.

Fifty years ago, about three-quarters of American adults 18 and older were married. Today, about half are. Nearly 40% of respondents to a Pew Research Center survey last year said marriage is becoming obsolete. If you think this is just demographic background noise with no real consequence, think again. This shift ultimately will harm kids because children in married family households are far less likely to live in poverty than those in single-parent households.

There are myriad reasons for the disintegration of American marriages, and I don't have a one-size-fits-all fix, but I do know that just as with a building, little is more important than its foundation. So a marriage's starting point — the wedding day — should be more than just cake and cocktails.

Who ties your knot

A recent survey by TheKnot.com and WeddingChannel.com revealed that almost one in three of their website users who married last year chose a family member or friend to officiate at their ceremony. Since many Americans are not currently part of a religious congregation, it's not surprising that acquaintances are filling in the gaps. This certainly fits my experience over 25 years in the ministry.

When I started out in the mid-1980s, I performed seven or eight weddings a year. Now I'm doing five or six. And while I'm not upset about the additional free Saturdays, I do worry that something important is lost when couples either forgo the formal ceremony or have a family member or friend lead the service.

Why does this matter? Well, relationships are hard to hold together, and a wedding creates a sense of unity not just with the bride and groom but for those in attendance, too. Those who gather to watch a couple make their vows often are the ones who, years later, support a marriage in good times and in bad.

In addition, a measure of accountability comes from making these promises in a public ceremony. Think about it: If you make a private commitment to a person, you can break up by explaining your change of heart to that person alone. But if you make a public marriage promise and later choose to break that vow, you have to justify yourself to parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, childhood friends, college buddies and everyone else who has witnessed your wedding. Some of the glue that holds a marriage together comes from the extended community that not only offers support but also demands accountability.

The trend toward having family members or friends officiate certainly has value, as it personalizes the service. But I am concerned when weddings focus more on love than on promises, which is the natural course to take when officiating for relatives or friends. In the quest to personalize a service, non-clergy officiants are naturally going to focus more on the story of the couple than on the tradition of marriage.

I've done this myself.

When I performed the wedding of two high school friends in 1989, I talked personally about the ways we had changed since we were teenagers, including our ability to love. "Love could be used as a tool or as a status symbol in those days," I said in my sermon. "But now your love is a free gift; the love which seeks first the welfare of the other person."

Good thoughts, but what I failed to note is that marriage is an institution, something far bigger than the love story of two individuals. A Christian wedding is referred to as "the covenant of marriage" because it creates a promise-based relationship, and most clergy can be counted on to keep this tradition alive.

Another benefit of a clergy-led service is that a pastor is free to challenge the couple, noting what a marriage demands of the two individuals. It's not all sunshine and butterflies, after all. Sure, a minister will highlight the beauty of this institution, but he or she can also talk about the responsibilities, the sacrifices and the requirements of this covenant. It's unlikely that a friend or family member chosen to lead this occasion is going to want to "preach" to the happy couple, for fear of crossing a line reserved for a pastor. So we're back to the love story, not marriage, the institution.

Enduring vows

In Washington, D.C., the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception hosted a special service in June for couples who had been married more than 25 years. Victor and Marguerite Dawson attended, having met at a homecoming dance in 1944. As their story was told in The Washington Post, it was love at first sight — at least for Victor, who went home that night and told his mother, "I met the woman I'm going to marry."

They now have five daughters, 19 grandchildren and 19 great-grandchildren, and their marriage of 63 years is steady as a grand oak.

"He's been a good, faithful husband," said Marguerite.

Such faithfulness certainly includes love, but it is grounded more securely in the vows they have made and kept.

With no disrespect to the 43% of Americans who are single (a percentage reflected in my congregation), the time has come to honor the institution of marriage. To really value it. Despite shifting mores and changing times, this promise-based tradition still has currency in 2011. Indeed, marriage helps adults, and it helps children.

Not only does a two-parent household have considerable advantages in sharing the load (and joy, of course) of raising children, but it's also a clear matter of economics — no small matter in creating a healthy family atmosphere. According to a recent Census report, nearly 40% of single-parent households were under the poverty line in 2010, compared with just 10% of married family households.

The importance of marriage to children — in terms of emotional and economic security — is something that can be affirmed by conservatives and liberals alike.

Even with a 50-year drop in marriage rates, two-thirds of Americans are upbeat about the future of marriage and family, according to the Pew Research Center, and 46% of unmarried Americans say they want to get married. Even gays and lesbians want to enter this deeply conservative tradition, as the marriage equality movement makes inroads state by state.

The promise of marriage remains strong, and I believe we can strengthen this institution — and that of the family — by remembering that "I do" is only the beginning of the journey, not the end.

Henry G. Brinton is pastor of Fairfax Presbyterian Church in Virginia, and author of Balancing Acts: Obligation, Liberation, and Contemporary Christian Conflicts.