Monday 6 February 2017

Alternative facts...

This is the text of a sermon preached at Evensong on 5th February. The texts were Amos 2:4-end and Ephesians 4:17-end. As I read them, I pondered the nature of truth - particularly in the context of the concept of 'alternative facts'. Truth and falsehood shape our behaviour and relationships - the kind of society we want to foster. 

It also struck me - having spent a lot of time reading Dan Hardy's work recently - that we are in danger of losing a sense of what he called 'sociopoiesis' (literally creating the social); that we are facing the fragmentation of aspects of our common life rather than seeing the 'building up' of our social life. How can the church speak of truth - or indeed embody it? We aren't immune from abuses of power either; but we are called to face the 'truth' of God and the 'truth' of our human condition. It means facing the cross - the place of judgement and forgiveness.  

All of which led me to think about the nature of holiness - and the painful process of refinement which enables trust to grow and for lives to reflect the fruit of the Spirit.

Two weeks ago, on 22nd January, the phrase ‘alternative facts’ entered our public discourse.

It’s been widely reported Kellyanne Conway used the words ’alternative facts’ in defence of the White House Press Secretary, Sean Spicer. To recap, in his first briefing he accused the media of deliberately underestimating the crowds at the inauguration. 

As photos, figures and counter arguments circulated, the journalist Chuck Todd said Spicer’s claim was ’a provable falsehood’.  In response, Conway called this ‘overly dramatic’; Spicer had given ‘alternative facts’. Todd replied, saying: ‘alternative facts are not facts. They’re falsehoods’.

Alternative facts: it's been described as Orwellian; discussed in newspaper editorials; parodied in Twitter memes. It's begun to filter into our everyday language. We suspect we’re being misled; with a hollow laugh, we call it an ‘alternative fact’. 

Does this latest addition to the repertoire of office banter enable us safeguard truth? Or does it trivialise and unwittingly condone untruthful speech?

Our readings this evening have quite a bit to say about truth and speech: they give us plumb lines - or barometers if you like - in discerning what is good and right and wise. Both Amos and Paul help us to see the disastrous consequences of falsehood; both reveal to us what God desires for human flourishing.  

As prophet and apostle they extend and deeper our understanding of truth. We are invited to look beyond verifiable facts and conformity to evidence; to see truth as rooted in the reality of God; to see that truth reflected in our fidelity to God’s ways.

Amos names the extent of human falsehood: in their rejection of the commandments to love God and neighbour, people have been led astray by lies. In turning away from the love of God, they’ve turned in on themselves in self-interest, exploitation, injustice, delusion and the relentless pursuit of misguided desires. 

Rejection of the truth of God’s love and holiness leads to the dehumanising of the weak and vulnerable. Rejection of the truth of God’s faithfulness and liberty degrades the powerful too; their ill-treatment of others strips away their own dignity. The image of God in them is marred. 

This is not truth: we were made for more than this. 

This is falsehood: an unattractive and corrosive alternative way of life.

Yet God remains faithful. He calls and recalls us that we might be true.

What it means for us to be true to God and true to our human nature is revealed in Jesus Christ: in him we see the intensity of love divine. 

In Ephesians, we are caught up in the abundance of God’s love for creation - finding ourselves energised by its sheer lavishness. Yet Paul always turns his mind back to the practical, to the relational. Love for him is not an abstract principle; rather it is a love which is embodied - in Christ and, by the power of the Spirit, in us.

Like Amos, Paul is pretty direct about the darkness of life lived apart from the truth of God’s love: futility, alienation, greed, hardness of heart, excess and personal gratification. When we are driven by human appetites alone we become desensitised to the needs of others. 

We become numb - seeking pleasure but without pangs of conscience about how we treat others. It’s a world where we hide behind alternative facts; because perhaps the truth is too painful.  

As we have been reminded this week, the church is not immune from the abuses of power; we have failed to protect the vulnerable; we too are continually called to face the truth. That's painful and costly. It's vital to ensure the the well-being of those in our care. In the midst of that we are recalled in love, to bring dignity and grace to others. 

God in Christ meets us in the chaos of this imperfection and draws us back to the truth of love. 

He meets us in the bewilderment, fragmentation and fears of our lives; he meets us in the midst of all that makes us turn in on ourselves. In the Gospels we see in Jesus’ face to face interactions, a move from the delusion of alternative facts to a truth that sets us free.  The good news is the truth about judgement, mercy, forgiveness; challenge, affirmation and new life. It is a thing most wonderful in the words of our anthem [It is a thing most wonderful: Philip Moore]; a great love like fire which burns away sin and death. 
 We were taught this truth in Jesus life, death and resurrection; a flame of love is kindled in our hearts as we learn to lay aside the old self; being clothed instead in what is of God - what is right and holy. To grow into the likeness of Christ - individually and corporately - is a process.

That process of being brought to our senses can be painful. Paul so vividly understands the language of ‘bodies’ in relation to the life of Christian community; perhaps we might think of it like the pain of circulation and warmth returning to cold limbs. It’s no wonder that much biblical talk of holiness describes it as being ‘refined’. In worship, we face the holiness of God; in penitence and faith, our hurts and fragmentations are healed by his love. This is a process of becoming holy as we face the truth - ours and God’s.


Rowan Williams puts it like this: the church ‘is holy… not because it is a gathering of the good and well-behaved, but because it speaks of the triumph of grace in the coming together of strangers and sinners, who, miraculously, trust one another to join in common repentance and common praise… humanly speaking, holiness is always like this: God’s endurance in the middle of our refusal of him, his capacity to meet every refusal with the gift of himself’ [1994, p. 136].


Paul’s letter to the Ephesians is an outwork of this hope and practice. Truth builds up the body of Christ - mutual respect, behaving with integrity, disagreeing well and abiding in love. Truth means acknowledging our emotions - but it also means refusing to turn to self-pity or resentment. We will get angry; but let’s not be drawn into a cycle of hurt. We will face frustrations; but let’s not get sucked into a the realm of ‘alternative facts’.

If cumulative acts of falsehood lead to bitterness, blame, recrimination and fear; cumulative acts of truthfulness lead to encouragement, sympathy, concern, affirmation and hope.  In building each other up, we draw others to the compelling love of God.  To do otherwise risks harming our relationships and risks grieving the Holy Spirit. 

Attentive the Spirit at work in this place and in us, let us pray that we may grow in the truth of God’s love revealed in Jesus Christ; may we grow in a holy trust which makes that love known in all that lies ahead this week. 


© Julie Gittoes 2017