WHY IS IT SO EASY TO MISS the connections? Evangelicals seem to be especially known for their tendency to separate justice from mission, or evangelism from compassion, resulting in an incomplete view of the life of faith. We settle for a tangled bunch of scraps and threads when we could have a beautifully woven quilt, and the people who suffer from the cold or fall through the holes are usually “the least of these” or “other,” invisible and voiceless. Kazi Joshua’s definition of biblical justice (particularly as understood by the great love commandments, the prophets, and the epistle of James) emphasizes the connections between “the worship of God, liturgical acts, sacrifice, tithing, and how neighbors, strangers, the weak, and less desirable members of society are actually treated.” Justice always has social consequences. When the Bible speaks about justice, “compassion, mercy, and structural issues are all at play,” says Joshua. Is this statement also true when the Evangelical Covenant Church talks about justice? Is it true for me, as a Christian and pastor? Are we making the connections, or missing them?

Historically and theologically, the Covenant Church has often prided itself on its ability to live in the tension on matters non-essential to faith, as evidenced by the affirmation of “Freedom in Christ,” one of the hallmarks of our unique identity:

“Covenanters have honored that tension— if not always and everywhere, at least in crucial moments when faith and fellowship were at stake. . . . The same creative tension manifests itself in areas of practical church membership and everyday Christian living wherever Covenanters gather. Their concern for the unity of the whole Church wrestles with their faith in the congregational principle, and vice versa; their deeply felt desire for consistency in life and witness... their desire to cooperate—to ‘covenant’ with each other—competes with a hesitance to adopt concepts and programs that limit their individual freedom” (www.covchurch.org/cov/ resources/affirmations2.html, c. 1976, revised 1996, emphasis added).

Given this affirmation of freedom and creative tension, can the meaning of “everyday Christian living” include doing justice? Our freedom in Christ has the potential to help us avoid the “either/or” kind of thinking that tends to lead to the divorce of evangelism, liturgy, and justice in areas of everyday Christian living because it pushes our theology to be consistent with our practices; it implies a humility born out of reflection. Can we claim a “consistency in life and witness” if the church (both congregationally and denominationally) is demonstrating unity, but we are not practicing justice? If this affirmation helps us make theological connections between worship, liturgy, justice, and structural/social issues, will it also help us avoid the compartmentalization for which we evangelicals are sometimes known? As Joshua suggests, we must be continually and consciously wondering if our theology and history lead us to be faithful “to the call of shalom in our context” in a manner worthy of biblical justice. Certainly we can point to individual Covenant churches or denominational departments who practice holistic biblical justice. And our early church history includes August Hermann Francke, whose Pietism led to the then-radical community of Halle, and C.J. Nyvall’s mother, Maria Nilsdotter, who founded a home for Swedish orphans. Their faith and freedom in Christ had practical social consequences.

We must be careful, however, not to equate doing justice with a matter “non-essential to faith” or a matter of “individual freedom.” According to Micah, practicing justice is inseparable from walking humbly with God; we cannot have one without the other. The Freedom in Christ affirmation does not free us from practicing social justice, but gives us the tools to avoid doing the separating in the first place. The concern this affirmation addresses —“the unity of the whole church”—should lead us to be faithful to the call of shalom in our context; one result of true fellowship, community, and unity is biblical justice. If we define true community and unity as Paul does (“when one member of the body suffers, we all suffer” – 1 Cor. 12:26), we will not only exhibit compassion toward our Christian brothers and sisters in times of suffering, but also end up asking what is causing their suffering in the first place; this is practicing biblical justice.

Of course, true discernment of whether or not the Covenant Church is practicing justice includes not only our history and theology, but our current actions: is the practice of biblical justice an extracurricular activity or the central activity of our faith that grows out of Covenant worship and fellowship and theology? Perhaps the best way to discern whether or not we are missing the connections is to point not to our successes, but to the holes in the way we currently practice our call to shalom.

One such hole or missed connection I would suggest is in our Covenant Pension Plan. I realize that this may be an ironic topic for The Narthex—after all, I am a young Pietist reflecting on what happens when she becomes an old Pietist in retirement. It may also be surprising. After all, there are many “missed connections” when it comes to justice in the church (e.g., racism, sexism, class issues); why choose something as mundane as retirement?

First of all, as a first-year pastor who has recently negotiated salary packages and filled out pension forms, it is on the front-burner of my mind. Moreover, it is on the frontburner of our culture; Social Security is a political and social hot topic. What happens when you get old (and who will care for you) is big news. Secondly, there is no better way to see how biblical justice is being expressed then to follow the money. The Bible speaks about wealth and money more than any other topic; what we do with our money is one of the ways we measure our faith. Retirement is a big business; even in the Covenant, the pension plan involves a relatively large sum of money and is considered part of a pastor’s “salary package.” Finally, the pension plan is one of the concrete structures that connect all Covenant pastors; one of the requirements of licensing and ordination is participation in the pension plan. Of course, there are many other requirements (adhering to the baptismal policy, following the ministerial ethics, and attending ministerium/ annual meetings, for instance), but the pension plan is the one that is most often enforced precisely because it is more easily measured. It also concretely affects pastors and laypeople because most local churches are the ones who pay the bills.

What is this pension plan that cares for “old Pietists”? At the risk of oversimplification, but for the purpose of brevity, the formula for the pension plan can be summerized as: 1/12 of 1 1/2 percent, times, the number of years served. Of course, if you have ever taken “Street Smart Finances for the Covenant Pastor,” they will recommend that you open an IRA so that you and your spouse are not completely dependent on the pension plan. However, pastors of wealthy or large churches (which tend to be suburban) have much larger pensions than those pastors who work in small or poor churches (which tend to be rural or urban) because their salaries have been far larger. Moreover, the pastors of the poor, smaller churches have far less disposable income for an IRA, so those who benefit most from the pension plan also have a bigger “safety net” in case the pension plan cannot adequately care for them. Smaller or poorer churches also typically have problems paying for health insurance, conference expenses, retreats, etc., thus leaving their pastors with even less disposable income for a retirement alternative. In addition, even their government Social Security is smaller!

One of the problems this creates is a “career-ladder” understanding of pastoral ministry—moving onward and upward to bigger and better churches (and by implication more “successful”)—as opposed to a “call” understanding. One might feel pressure to take a “successful” call in the last years of ministry, and if one does not or cannot, there are retirement consequences. The pension plan favors those pastors who work in middle- to-upper class communities. Those who have a lifetime call to small or poor or rural churches get less care structurally. It may also tend to place women and ethnic pastors at a disadvantage. Many women in the Covenant work “part-time” as solo pastors or share a full-time position with another pastor, reducing the size of their salary. Many ethnic Covenant churches, particularly Hispanic and Asian churches, tend to be smaller and thus hire part-time pastors. ministry and call. for the widows a measure

In this structure, there are too many that fall through the holes. Can we say that we are being faithful to our call to shalom in this context? Are we providing for those Covenant pastors (and their spouses) who shepherded us, proclaimed the gospel, taught and preserved the theology of our denomination, led worship, and shaped liturgies?

The Covenant does provide care for retired pastors in other ways besides the pension plan, through generous discounts to Annual Meetings and Midwinter Conferences, as well as waived entrance fees to Covenant retirement communities. But these are benefits available to all retired pastors; there are no compensations built into the structure of the plan to counter-balance a system that encourages a hierarchical understanding of ministry and call.

Now, it is certainly a fair plan— you get out what you (or your church) put in. It is on par with many secular organizations, including our government. But is it just? And shouldn’t we be providing a counter-cultural and prophetic witness to how one takes care of the elderly? Isn’t how we provide for the widows a measure of how we are doing justice and being “religious” (James 1)? We are missing the connection because we allow our culture’s understanding of provision and fairness to shape the structure of how we provide for our retired pastors.

It is true that I have oversimplified the issue; this is not intended to be a full analysis of the pension plan and its complexities. But perhaps we can all at least acknowledge that this deserves further reflection. Yes, the Covenant structurally provides for retired pastors and their spouses, but is it enough? Is it as biblically just as it could be? Does it show that the structure of our denominational life and witness is consistent? Perhaps further and more complex analysis, both financial and theological, is called for so that we can discern together if the plan is just or if reform is necessary? How might this concrete structure be changed so that it is a prophetic witness to the world around us in a way that proclaims the grace of the gospel?

I do not know what shape a “just” pension plan would take (Christian financial planners —this is where you come in) or what sacrifices would have to be made by those who benefit from its current form. What I do know is that the call of scripture and the consequences of our community and unity in Christ require that even our pension plan be just. We must be open to addressing those places and structures in our life together that miss the connections the God of Micah and James requires we make. The call to “do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God” are the requirements of true religion for all Christians – laypeople, first-year pastors, and retired pastors alike.