As we move closer to the commemoration of our nation’s 250th birthday, I thought we would spend those weeks looking at the pulpit’s influence on revolutionary events. The 18th-century pulpit had as much to do with events leading up to the colonies’ declaring independence as it did with the events themselves. In many ways, the pulpit and the pub worked hand in hand.
Next month, we will offer a special service to honor our founding. The service will be structured much like a service of the time would have been, although it will not last three hours.
I have selected a sermon preached by the Rev. Samuel West. The sermon was preached on the 29th of May 1776 as an Election Day Sermon. Each year, as the Legislature began its session, a minister was selected to preach a sermon at the service. Rev. West was chosen because he was a prominent New England Congregational minister, theologian, and political thinker during the American Revolution.
Rev. West, who was minister in Dartmouth at the time, was not chosen because he was simply “a preacher who supported revolution.” He represented a very New England idea that faith, civic responsibility, and liberty were inseparable. The sermon is very much in the tradition of ministers like Jonathan Mayhew, who believed that the moral health of the commonwealth was as much a spiritual concern as a political one.
In the great tradition of 17th and 18th-century Congregational ministers like Rev. Samuel Tobery and the Rev. Thomas Andros, there was no separation between the spiritual and the political.
We will hear an abridged version of that sermon on July 5th, and I will also make the full version available for those who wish to read it.
On June 11, 1776, the Continental Congress selected Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and Robert R. Livingston, known as the Committee of Five, to draft the Declaration of Independence. The intent was not just to declare independence but to justify the colonies’ right to do so.
The words belong to Jefferson, but the ideas came from many voices in Congress and in the Colonies. The Pilgrims had left the Old World in search of the new for many reasons, some economic, others ethnic, and still others religious. They set out in hope, hope that things would be better by God’s grace and by the work of their hands.
Ten years later, sitting off the coast of what would be the City of Boston, John Winthrop wrote about this new world as a “shining city on a hill.” For Winthrop, the “city upon a hill” was not primarily a statement of American greatness; it was a warning and a covenant. The community would be watched by the world, and if it failed to live according to God’s purposes, its failure would be visible as well.
The idea was simple: God has given us a calling; therefore, we have a responsibility.
Our Congregational heritage played a significant role in shaping the ideas behind the Declaration. Although a political document, it was shaped by the thinking of the day on theology, covenant, providence, and public responsibility, and by the deep intertwining of these ideas.
The Puritans deeply believed in the idea of covenant, people bound together under God for a shared purpose. And as such, governments, like the church, carried moral obligations. This led to the theological understanding of “New Divinity” and to a distinct school of theology known as “New England Theology,” which still influences us today.
Our ancestors in faith believed that God had created a moral universe in which actions had consequences and justice mattered. This created a framework in which tyranny was not merely a political problem; it was a moral and spiritual violation. A king who abused power was not just inefficient; he was acting contrary to the moral order established by God.
Our Puritan ancestors were strict Calvinists and often believed that humans were helpless before God. If the King was appointed by God, then all the King’s actions were God’s, and there was nothing we could do about it.
The “new” thinking shifted that position, placing greater emphasis on human responsibility. People had the capacity and the obligation to choose the good. This is where the line, “Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.”
It is interesting to see our Congregational roots and the influence they had not only on the ideas of the Declaration but also woven throughout the founding documents. The shift was starting away from an angry God smiting people towards this idea of a God who loves all and gives humanity responsibility for what happens. Yes, God’s will comes into play, but humanity has the capacity to follow it or not. And if you don’t, God will not smite you for it.
And now we come to what I believe to be the central idea of New England Theology, that of disinterested benevolence, the idea that the highest virtue was loving what is good because it is good, not simply because it benefits oneself. The ideal citizen was not someone seeking only personal advantage, but someone willing to sacrifice for the common good.
To quote that great theologian and Vulcan philosopher Mr. Spock, “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”
Human dignity is not bestowed by kings; it is given by the Creator. Freedom is not merely a right; it is a responsibility shared with neighbors. God’s providence calls humanity toward a more just future, even when that future is incomplete.
The command that Jesus left for us to love one another is an important part of this philosophy. If we love each other, then we will have each other’s best interests in mind. It is difficult to let our neighbors suffer if we have what they need to mitigate that suffering. “If you have two coats and your neighbor has none, give him one of yours.”
As followers of Jesus, we are called to look past ourselves and towards others. This is not to say you must impoverish yourselves, but by helping those around us, we help ourselves. If all hands are on the pump, the workload is lighter.
This idea of what we call inherited grace comes, in part, from Paul’s letter to the Romans, which we heard read this morning. Grace, for Paul, is the foundation of everything. Grace is not our own achievement, our own power, or our own righteousness. Grace is something received.
Grace and the dignity of the human person do not come from any government but are “endowed by the creator.” The dignity of the human person comes before human institutions. Whether those institutions are governments or religious.
Paul says, “And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.”
For Paul, hope is not wishful thinking; hope is formed through struggle. There is a risk associated with belief, and there should be a struggle. There was a risk associated with signing that piece of paper in 1776, and there is a risk to truly following Jesus.
As you know, I spent several years in a monastery. One of the key principles of monastic life is silence, long hours of silence. St. Benedict, who wrote the rule of the monastery, told his monks to sit in the room in silence, and there they would learn everything. It is often in silence that we find the answers, or at least the direction to them.
Faith should be a struggle, not in a fighting sense of the term, but a struggle to constantly seek guidance and understanding. How do we live our faith in a constantly changing world? If God is still speaking, are we still listening? Does our faith influence our lives, or is it the other way around? Are we created in God’s image, or have we created God in our image?
When John Winthrop quoted from Matthew in his “city on a hill,” the idea was not that we have achieved perfection, far from it. Winthrop’s idea was that we have been given a calling to be. But to be, we have to be willing to live to our fullest potential, and we achieve that by listening to God and to one another. It is through the struggle that we find perfection.
The calling is given; the community does not earn it. The vision points toward what can be, not merely what is. The gift carries responsibility.
The dream of a city on a hill was never a claim that America had arrived at perfection. It was a covenant that we are always called toward the light. The grace is that the vision is given; the hope is that we can continue moving toward it; and the responsibility is that every generation must decide whether it will live into the promise.
Paul says, “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.”
Our lives as followers of Jesus begin with receiving love and then becoming a vessel of that love.
A covenant community, whether a church or a nation, is not called to simply possess a blessing. It is called to embody that blessing for others. Our ancestors in faith believed that grace changes human beings. God’s grace does not simply rescue individuals; it creates people capable of moral action.
John Newton was a former slave ship captain who later became a clergyman. In 1772, he wrote a little hymn called “Amazing Grace.” Newton wrote about his own struggle and how grace opened his eyes and changed his life. This was a song about his conversion.
“Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now, I’m found, was blind, but now I see.”
Grace allowed Newton to see his life and what needed to be changed.
Grace comes before transformation. We do not become worthy and then receive love. We receive love, and that love calls us into becoming something new. This was the theological foundation behind the idea that citizens had moral responsibilities and that liberty without virtue could collapse into selfishness.
Grace allows us to live in hope, and hope is knowing that God is not finished yet.
Something we need to remember is the difference between hope and optimism. Optimism says, “Things will probably get better.” Hope says, “Even when things do not get better immediately, God is still present.” Optimism depends on circumstances. Hope depends on relationships. Relationship with God and one another. Optimism looks at the news and says, “I hope things turn around.” Hope looks at the same news and says, “The world may be broken, but God is not finished.”
For followers of Jesus Christ, hope is not a denial of reality. Our hope looks reality directly in the face and says: “This is not the end of the story.”
So, what does this mean for us?
It means that we are called to become a people shaped by the grace we have received and then pass that grace along to others.
If God has given us grace, we are called to extend grace. If God has welcomed us, we are called to welcome others. All others. If God has forgiven us, we are called to practice forgiveness.
The church is not meant to be a museum for perfect people. The church is a community of people standing together in grace, who know they are all still growing. The church is a community of people who know we are all still becoming who we are supposed to be and who know that God is not finished with us yet.
The world does not need more Christians who simply claim to have all the answers.
The world needs Christians who embody hope. Those who walk into difficult places and bring the presence of Christ and stand beside those who are hurting.
People who choose compassion over condemnation. People who believe resurrection is still possible.
Paul begins this passage by saying: “We have peace with God.”
And he ends by saying: “Christ died for us.”
Between those two truths is the whole Gospel. We are loved. We are forgiven. We are held by grace.
And because of that, we can live with hope. Not a shallow hope that ignores suffering but rather a deep hope rooted in the promise that God is still at work.
So, when the world feels uncertain, remember: You stand in grace.
When life feels overwhelming, remember: You are held by God.
When the future feels unclear, remember: Hope is not based on what we can see. Hope is based on the One who sees us.
Amen.
