Avengers

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Kate and I are on vacation next week. This one will be primarily a staycation, punctuated by a day-trip to Cleveland for the Art Museum, and a series of dubious activities that are part of the HoneyDo list.

But we do have these movie tickets. We need to use them. They are for a particular theater chain, one that has 16-screen multiplexes sprinkled throughout the Columbus area. This should not be that hard. But I have surveyed the movies on offer, and honestly, there’s nothing I want to see. Some animated stuff, at least half a dozen superhero films, a few horror films, and a film about a middle-aged cricket player attempting to make a comeback. It is a sad state of affairs when the cricket movie looks like it may be the best of the bunch.

But I have read many positive statements about the latest Avengers movie, “Avengers: To the End of Infinity, and Beyond!”  I don’t know these Avengers at all. I know the Avengers pictured above, and will confess to a lifelong crush on Emma Peel.  The Avengers currently featured appear to be superheroes in tight-fitting outfits. One Avenger is a hulking being with a deeply creased forehead. I’m worried, too. I have no idea who these beings are, but I do know that there have been some Avengers movies that have come before. So my question is this: would a person who knows nothing about the neo-Avengers and the universe they inhabit be able to appreciate “Avengers: To the End of Infinity, and Beyond!”? Would I be totally lost? And does Emma Peel sneak in, at least in a cameo role? Thank you for your advice. It’s either the neo-Avengers or the cricket movie. Help me out here.

This Present Darkness

As my wife frequently points out as she attempts to talk me down from the ledge, This Present Darkness™ in the history/debasement of the Christian Church is nothing new. Sir/St. Thomas More, patron saint of my parish, lost his life precisely because a large and vocal contingent of the Christian Church sold its soul to the governing authorities. Kicking it way back, Jesus himself was martyred when the religious leaders of his day made an unholy alliance with the empire du jour. And, as my combative but friendly neighbor is fond of reminding me, more people have been killed in religious wars – theologies aligned with flags and armaments - than for any other cause. He’s wrong, and conveniently overlooks, oh, World War I and World War II, but I take his point, and don’t fundamentally disagree with him. And have I mentioned colonialism, the defense of slavery and the near-genocide of Native Americans, the ongoing hatred and persecution of the LGBTQ community, all vigorously defended by the Christian Church at one time or another, including today? It’s a sad and sorry history, punctuated occasionally by a billion points of light involving the founding of orphanages and hospitals, the defense of the oppressed, care for the untouchables and lepers, etc. The Christian Church is all those things. But I won’t argue too strenuously with you if you insist that it’s time to take the mixed bag to the curb and leave it for the latest trash pickup, particularly the way the bag has been stinking it up of late.

Still, you’ll have to pardon me, and God knows my wife will have to pardon me, if I insist that it’s not supposed to be this way. The failures of the past don’t excuse the failures of the present, nor do they make the failures of the present something other than failures. The Christian Church is capable of reform. Ask Francis of Assisi. Ask Martin Luther. Ask Martin Luther King. Who’s next? Whoever he or she might be, whoever might have the voice and the authority to speak to the sycophants and the holy nationalistic masses, let me note: it’s time. It’s past time.

A Distinct Sense of Place

Times change. I know that. So take this as an Old Guy “Keep off my lawn” rant if it makes you feel better. But much of the six miles between my house and downtown Columbus is rapidly turning into a Disney Hometown Street, Anytown, USA. You’ll have to pardon me if I want to flee the antiseptic proceedings.

Yeah, yeah, I know. The Ohio State University, home to 63,000 students, is what looms between my house and downtown, and mom and pop are getting increasingly concerned that little Ashley and Josh might encounter something other than the comforting realities of the suburban mall once they head off to the big city. The university needed to do something about all those weird, idiosyncratic establishments where people sat around and played chess and bearded fellows declaimed poetry in darkened corners and shady record store owners raised their eyebrows and shook their heads disapprovingly whenever someone dared to bring a Justin Bieber album to the counter. Ashley and Josh were becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and we can’t have that.

So I get it. One must have Disneyland, Ohio. Most of this is the work of Campus Partners, the Official Gentrification Arm™ of the university, which takes as its ironic slogan “A Distinct Sense of Place.” Because another Starbucks or Chipotle certainly shouts “Columbus, Ohio!,” as opposed to, I don’t know, Waco or Sioux Falls or Charlotte or Salt Lake City. And sure, all those five-story, identikit apartment buildings that charge $2,500 per month probably do look marginally better than all the decrepit, rat- and cockroach-infested fratboy houses previously owned by slumlords. And, you bet, who doesn’t want a Target and four phone stores mere steps away from the identikit apartment buildings? Mom and pop will be pleased.

I, of course, mourn the old mom and pop operations that were around before the current crop of moms and pops became so concerned. I miss those places. I miss the old Greek guy who used to sling gyros at Souvlaki Palace. I miss Larry’s Bar, home of the aforementioned chess players and poets, not to mention roaming dogs and a jukebox that played Beethoven and Chuck Berry. I miss Bernie’s Bagels, home of the best basement punk shows on the planet, and where the overhead pipes dripped toxic green liquid. I miss Schoolkids Records, where the owners really were the arbiters of musical taste for countless undergrads and would-be music critics. Ohio State, like many other campuses and near off-campuses, used to offer a strange, eclectic mix of thrilling adventure and the most idiosyncratic people in the city. Now it offers another Starbucks and Chipotle. Target too. Now it’s a much more comfortable, boring place. Ashley and Josh will never know what they missed. It feels just like home.

Dirt

We got the dirt yesterday. I got it on multiple fronts.

All of us had the opportunity to absorb the full impact of the Mueller Report. Trump’s hand-picked Attorney General William Barr described this process a few week ago as a complete exoneration of the President. After having perused Mueller’s actual report and noted that there are still 20 ongoing, active investigations, I think it’s safe to say that this is an exoneration in the same way that the Nuremberg Trials were an exoneration of the Nazi regime.

I saw a theoretically well-intentioned Christian pastor and Trump supporter write this off yesterday as an attack of Satan, who wants to distract us from all the good stuff of Holy Week, as if betrayal and the projection of a false public image (Judas betrayed Jesus with a kiss) weren’t at the very heart of Holy Week.

On the work front, I’ve been asked to present a nicely and falsely scrubbed image as well. I write for my daily bread, and I’ve been asked to write about monetary and tax implications of certain events that, shall we say, stretch reality. In short, I’ve been asked to lie. I’m not going to do it. We all have these choices to make, and we all face the consequences of what we do or fail to do.

Meanwhile, this unholy week proceeds apace. Last night at church we washed each other’s feet. For real. There was nothing symbolic about it. There were no false images.  Just dirty, smelly feet, probably a bit like the ones Jesus encountered at the Last Supper, although arguably a little cleaner because the participants came into the proceedings wearing Oxfords and Michael Jordan sneakers. It was distasteful, menial work, just as it was 2,000 years ago; the kind of thing relegated to servants and underlings back in the day.

“When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.””

So call me blessed. Truly. The feet I washed happened to be attached to my wife. I’ve played with them before, as one does, I suppose. But I’ve never washed them before. And something holy was going on. I am called to love and serve God, but above all else this is the human being I am called to love and serve. Remember. Remember. And so I did. I remembered my marriage vows, and I remembered that I live in a stolen, deeply compromised land, and I remembered that compromise is ever-present. You have to choose what and whom you will serve. It was a good and holy and hard time. To quote the ancient sage Paul Simon, it’s all right, it’s all right; I’m just weary to my bones.

Here I stand, on my dirty feet. Lord, have mercy.

Mueller Time

“The President’s efforts to influence the investigation were mostly unsuccessful, but that is largely because the persons who surrounded the President declined to carry out orders or accede to his requests."

You can read all 448 pages if you like. Really, all you need to know is right there. 

30% of Amerikkkans will back the evil oaf regardless of what he does, including transparent, blatant attempts to circumvent the Rule of Law. This, more than the oaf himself, is what makes me despair for the future of this country. 30% of Amerikkkans simply don't care that the most sacrosanct principles upon which this country was founded have been shredded and tossed aside by this administration. Another 10% - 15% or so will wince a bit, but ask "Whuddabout her emails?" or mumble "Benghazi" or some other sacred shibboleth, and pretend that it's just politics, the way it's always been.

It's not. Not even remotely close. 

He'll probably win again in 2020. Because Amerikkka. I want a new country. And only partly because of the kleptocrat in charge. 

Null and Void

Imagine a scenario in which a young man and a young woman get married. It’s a mess from the start. He’s immature. She’s immature. They both have major addiction issues, and they feed off of one another. He’s addicted to various legal and illegal substances, and co-dependent on her. She’s addicted to various legal and illegal substances, and co-dependent on him. It ends, in relatively short order, in bitterness and rancor. He wants a divorce. She wants a divorce. They get divorced.

Years go by. The young man, now not quite so young, meets a youngish Catholic woman. They date for a while. He works through his addiction issues. Now he’s clean and sober. Eventually they get married, have a few kids. They live life. Thirty-five years go by, and slowly, cautiously, he tiptoes toward the Catholic Church after witnessing several decades of faithful love and service on the part of his wife. Eventually, he decides that he wants to join the Church. What do you think happens?

If you guessed that he encounters a bright, flashing sign reading “Do not get baptized. Do not take Communion. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. In fact, spend far more than $200 to let us figure out whether your first marriage can be ecclesiastically annulled,” then you guessed correctly.

True story, mid-April 2019.

I love the Catholic Church. The Catholic Church drives me absolutely batshit crazy. Both statements are true. That’s not my story. It’s the story of my friend, who I’ve been hanging out with on a regular basis for the past six months or so. I know why this has happened. I understand the theory, the sacramental, high value of marriage that is being upheld, all of it. And I could not disagree with it more. It’s deeply wrong, and it does a grave injustice to my friend, who WANTS TO PLAY BY THE RULES, for God’s sake. Really, for God’s sake.

So he will play by the rules. He will have tiptoed right up to the line, showed up faithfully for week after week after week, done everything he was supposed to do except be a wise human being when he was twenty years old. And he will be turned away. Wait. Maybe eventually. Not now.

He is, by the way, 67 years old.

The Color of Compromise

"Like many of you, perhaps, I have spent the last several years thinking quite a bit about the intersections of gospel, justice, race, oppression, and the biblical traditions on which I was raised. Does the Gospel of Jesus Christ, as transmitted through the quivering vessel of (White? Evangelical? Conservative?) American Protestantism present a solution to America’s original sin—or only further stumbling blocks?

This is a question that’s caused some tension in my own denomination, and it’s bubbled to the surface yet again following the recent Sparrow Conference/ Ekemini Uwan controversy. (I’ll post a recap in the comments, for those unfamiliar with the incident in question.)

I offer a brief synthesis of my own evolving thoughts and reflections, in the hopes that some here may find them illuminating. God have mercy on me if any of this comes across as “whitesplaining,” when all I really aim to do is “work out my salvation with fear and trembling.”

1. If we’re going to talk about racism and injustice, it’s helpful for us to use words from the Bible—I’m thinking especially of the word “sin,” which helps us remember that injustice is the natural byproduct of the Curse of Adam/Mark of Cain. With that said, I don’t think it’s enough to say that racism is a “sin problem” and leave it at that. (The same tidy explanation could be given for murder, abortion, or cancer.) Rather, I think there is value in naming specific sins and elucidating the ways in which we have institutionlized, formalized, legitimized, and accommodated them in our lives, schools, churches, homes, and halls of government.

2. Likewise, if we are going to talk about solutions, it’s important to root them in what the Bible says—to wit, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which I will define here as a proclamation of historic fact: The Son of God died to reverse the curse of sin in our world and to set the cosmos to right. This is not just relevant to race/justice conversations but paramount, because it reminds us that oppression and injustice have an end date; as Julian of Norwich says, all manner of things shall be made well. The Gospel proclamation is essential for any Christian response to social ill.

3. Whatever your ultimate allegiances are—the Gospel, a political party, an ideology or value proposition of any kind—your actions will ultimately reveal and ratify them. (This is called “religion,” and we all have one; see David Dark’s book, Life’s Too Short to Pretend You’re Not Religious.) The upshot here is that, if we internalize that Gospel proclamation, it has necessary overflow into our discipleship, our love for neighbor, and yes, our politics. The Lord Jesus described it in terms of “bearing fruit”—your life and your choices naturally bear witness to whatever gospel you believe. I think most evangelical Christians understand this on some level, but many choose to forget it where issues of racial justice are concerned, believing that the pursuit of justice/neighborly love can somehow be pitched AGAINST gospel faith. There doesn’t have to be conflict between believing the gospel and living your life against injustice; the relationship here is one of cause and effect. (Faith without works, etc.) I do not think the Church can grow in grace or in gospel power so long as we get hung up on this basic relationship between theological belief and practical implication.

4. I would define racism by using a common, classic definition—prejudice plus power. Racism, as formally defined, has a lot to do with systematic injustice and oppression. Thus, white people can certainly be on the receiving end of prejudice or bigotry, but I would not use capital-r racism to describe these instances. White people have long enjoyed power and privilege in this country, which makes it impossible for them to be recipients of systematic oppression.

5. I have no reason to question the existence of white supremacy, as I see its power summoned and its troops rallied on TV and on Twitter every single day. (“As if we need any more proof of the existence of Satan in the modern world,” Flannery O’Connor said; I may be paraphrasing slightly.) As such, I do not have any particular problem with the framing of “whiteness” as a power structure from which we must all divest, as per Uwan and also James Baldwin.

6. When it comes to supporting a president and a political agenda that enshrines and empowers white supremacy—for whatever reason (abortion, Supreme Court, “small government”)—I think the question to ask is simply: To what gospel are we bearing witness? To what evangelicalism do we testify?

7. While I do not believe everyone who identifies as a white/conservative/evangelical is a white supremacist, I do think there are scary ways in which white/conservative/evangelicalism, as an institution, has long protected white supremacy. I would commend to you Jemar Tisby’s book, The Color of Compromise, for a much fuller historic reckoning than anything I could provide.

8. I reject the notion that the church has a “spiritual mission,” but only because I do not see any way to distinguish between the “spiritual” and the bodily/physical/incarnate/”secular.” (The Gnostics tried this, and it would seem they still exert some impact on Western Christianity.) I would find common ground with anyone who says the primary goal of the Church is to proclaim the Gospel, but I would differ with anyone who denies the earthly overflow of this proclamation.

8b. In keeping with the last point, I do not affirm the doctrine commonly known as “the spirituality of the church,” which is invoked to dampen enthusiasm for racial justice concerns but somehow never comes up when conservative political projects (abortion, gay marriage) are on the table. This “doctrine” was conceived as justification for churches to remain silent on the question of slavery, which is really all you need to know about it.

9. It is impossible for me to understand how it is charitable, gracious, or constructive to demean a Christian brother or sister as a “Social Justice Warrior” simply for showing a good-faith concern for “the least of these.” My simple suggestion for anyone who uses SJW as a convenient pejorative: Stop immediately jumping to labels when you could/should be actually engaging with the complexity of a fellow image- bearer. (Not trying to sound preachy, as I do this myself sometimes.)

10. There are no neutral positions when it comes to justice; dismissing it as “not my concern,” “not the church’s business,” or “not within the scope of Gospel witness” is taking a side, and not the right one. In fact, I would describe it as antichrist.

11. It is my honest conviction that the reason these conversations rankle so many is because they call for an intentional dismantling of some of white/conservative evangelicalism’s most cherished idols—to wit, Republicanism, nationalism, and yes, as Uwan’s righteous word reminds us… whiteness. It’s often said that if we don’t kill our idols, we can be sure they’re killing us. I believe it.

12. The attitude I see a lot in my circles is that historic racism/injustice was definitely bad, but haven’t we all apologized/atoned for it by now? Can’t we just move on? And yet, when present-day instances of racial trauma are raised, the first instinct is always to deny, deflect, or negate them. There is a posture of defensiveness, a refusal to sit with the suffering of other human beings or to admit that we might be culpable in it, that strikes me as contrary to the spirit of repentance. So to the question of whether we’ve “done enough” to repent/atone, I think the answer is very clearly no.

13. I believe in the power of the Gospel to transform lives, kill idols, set captives free, and end the reign of sin. In fact, I believe it’s already happened/is happening/will happen. I pray that I might bear fruit accordingly.

14. I also believe Ekemini Uwan."

- Josh Hurst

The Collision of Worldviews

A worldview is an interpretational grid, consisting of overt beliefs and underlying assumptions, through which one sees and understands one's life and the world in which one finds oneself. A worldview answers the big philosophical and theological questions: What is prime reality - the really real? What is the nature of external reality; that is, the world around us? What is a human being? What happens to a person at death? Why and how is it possible to know anything at all? How do we know what is right and wrong? What is the meaning of human history? What personal, life-orienting core commitments follow from the answers to the previous questions?

A worldview answers those questions. Until the fairly recent past, worldviews, and the ways they were understood, could be reasonably relied upon to differentiate very distinct ways of thinking and living. Thus, for example, it would have been inconceivable for a nation devoted to socialism to elect a free-market capitalist as its president/premier/prime minister. It would have been nonsensical for an organization devoted to the propagation of atheism to appoint a Southern Baptist minister as its chairperson. These are different and incompatible worldviews.

Insuperable problems arise when the same word is used to describe different and incompatible worldviews. Take the word "Christian," for example, which is now applied to people who are committed to breaking down racial barriers and to white supremacists, to people who are committed to telling the truth as one of the primary, nay, top 10 tenets of the faith and to people who lie indiscriminately, willy-nilly throughout the day, to people who deeply believe in the fundamental value and equality of women and to people who boast of grabbing women's genitalia, to people who desire to welcome, love and serve immigrants and to those who desire to keep immigrant children fenced off like animals in a zoo.

These are different worldviews masquerading under the same label. And the worldviews collide head-on when the current Vice President is invited to be the commencement speaker for an evangelical Christian college, which happened earlier today at Taylor University in Indiana.

Until they are acknowledged as different and incompatible worldviews, the same ridiculous charade will continue. Half the students and faculty will line up and salute, and wonder why half their neighbors are incredulous and inconsolable. And the other half of the students and faculty will be incredulous and inconsolable, arranging protests and marches and promising to stay away, while half their neighbors are shaking their heads in incomprehension and wondering what all the judgmental fuss is about. All of them call themselves Christians.

Who they are are people with different worldviews. They believe different and diametrically opposed things about basic ways to live and think. It might behoove Christians, as a whole, to go back and review what used to be considered the fundamental ethical tenets of the faith. This is why the old saw about finding unity in Jesus is so deceptive and wrongheaded, and why it now turns out to be no answer at all. Which Jesus? The one who welcomes strangers and immigrants or the one who supports caging their children? One cannot equivocate about this. These are diametrically opposed Jesuses. Pick a worldview, any worldview. You're going to have to choose, and you can't play it both ways. Just ask the students and faculty at Taylor University.

The Marathon

Sunday starts the marathon. I might as well just set up a cot and sleep at church.

This year, as in previous years, Kate and I are sponsors for a program called RCIA - the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. What it means is that for the six months leading up to Easter, we have spent a lot of time with about twenty adults, ranging from their late teens to seventy or thereabouts, who are joining the Catholic Church. This coming week starts the culmination of that process, which involves a long service on Sunday, another long service on Thursday, another long service on Friday, and then a ridiculously long service Saturday night that stretches into very early Easter Sunday morning. In between, there is food to prepare for the early a.m. Sunday feast, robes (not for me; for the new kids on the block) to wash and iron, a couple rehearsals, and a six-hour retreat on Saturday morning and afternoon before the ridiculously long service Saturday evening. There is also work, which is still very much full time, and which is particularly crazy right now. Work tends to view these days in terms of Thursday, Friday, etc.

The Thursday/Friday/Saturday slugfest is known as the Triduum, Latin "tri" for three, "duum" for "Oh my God, forget about sleeping." They are my three favorite days of the year, and this remains a profound mystery akin to the full divinity and humanity of Christ and the popularity of Britney Spears. But it's true. I am so thankful for the richness and beauty of the liturgy, for the freshness and vitality of people, young and old(er), who willingly enter into this, who take on the sometimes burdensome obligations and still find joy in them. I am thankful for college students and grizzled, world-weary corporate executives who have decided to change course midway and sometimes a lot farther than midway through the race.

In the space of seven days, we will hear the old, old story, move from palm branches and celebratory acclamation to betrayal, rejection, crucifixion; eventually, after darkness and silence, resurrection. I am always shocked by the juxtapositions until I actually look at my own life, which has sometimes moved from celebratory acclamation to betrayal and rejection. On Palm Sunday various members of the congregation read the story of Christ's Passion aloud, and the murderous crowd is always played by us, the rabble in the pews/Samsonite chairs. "Crucify him!" we cry out; I cry out. I hate it, not because I could never cry out such murderous sentiments in real life, but because I could.

So I am all the more thankful for these new kids; 19 and 70 and everything in between. They remind me of the cost, and the joy, of attempting to live this way. It's a big deal. I'm grateful I get to play a part in it. And I'll be dog-tired at the end of the process, and very happy.

All the Diamonds

Les Miserables

Blasphemy? Oh well.

"As far as Andrew Davies is concerned, adapting Victor Hugo’s “Les Misérables” to the screen independent of Alain Boubil, Jean-Marc Natel, and Herbert Kretzmer’s juggernaut musical was nothing short of an overdue necessity. “I hated the musical,” the writer stated outright at the Television Critics Assn.’s winter press tour in February. “I just wanted to rescue this great book from [that] pathetic virago.”"

For what it's worth, I didn't HATE the musical, and that's saying something, because I can't stand musicals. But this is about eight hours of more or less straightforward Victor Hugo, and that's very fine indeed as far as I'm concerned. Because Andrew Davies is right: this is a great book that deserves a reverent, non-musical treatment on screen. We get just that starting Sunday evening on PBS. 

Preview

Pagan Friends

"I'll try a pagan friend, thought I, since Christian kindness has proved but hollow courtesy."
- Herman Melville, "Moby Dick"

Anecdotal evidence, based on the conclusions of one person surveying a list of friends and acquaintances, suggests that there is no difference in the individual moral lives of Christians and non-Christians. For what it's worth, I don't think of the non-Christians as "pagans," to borrow a term from Herman Melville. The term is, in itself, judgmental and offensive, certainly to non-Christians. So I just think of them as non-Christians; people who look to a different worldview and a different interpretational grid through which to understand the beautiful, tragic, mysterious world in which we live.

And on an individual level, I see virtually no differences. Most of the non-Christians I know are somewhat moral, well-intentioned, frequently kind people who love their spouses and kids and extended family members and friends, do their work with diligence and excellence, and try as best they can to cope with the inexplicable crap that happens to everyone. And most of the Christians I know do the same. Each group - Christians and non-Christians - is also characterized by a significant minority of people who simply don't cope well at all; who struggle with various addictions, legal and illegal, who covet their neighbor's ass, indeed his or her entire body, and who make astoundingly stupid choices based on raging hormones and the endless pursuit of narcissistic pleasure. One might think, given the very public emphases of Christianity, that Christians might have an edge here. One might think wrongly. By the way, there's no intent to cast blame. I have been in that latter group, and I have made my appearance there as a Christian. I'm simply noting that the vaunted moral superiority that many Christians assume is non-existent from my vantage point. And yes, I'm looking outside myself.

There is, of course, more to this story than a tally of moral or immoral attitudes and behaviors. I'm a Christian because I believe the gospel message is true. I'm also a Christian because I'm quite taken with the historical person of Jesus of Nazareth, Son of Man and Son of God, and although I recognize that many days I don't think or live like him, there's still a desire in me to think and live like him. I assume that this is true of Christians in general, and perhaps even a few non-Christians.

The sea change I've witnessed over the last few decades in general, and quite specifically over the past few years, has to do with Christianity in the aggregate; the big picture. I'm not going to argue with the notion that most individual Christians make some attempt, often a noble one, to follow Jesus. But what has been incredibly demoralizing and dismaying is the public witness of the Christian Church, as a whole, in America. I am not lying when I state, as a Christian, that I believe I'm far more likely to find compassion and empathy among my non-Christian friends than I am among my Christian friends. I am not lying when I state that the Christian vision for America, as understood by roughly 70% - 80% of its adherents, bears little to no resemblance to the vision articulated by Jesus of Nazareth.

I'm a Christian. I'm a member of a local church. Like every other Christian, I've tried to seek out a local church that is an instantiation of the beliefs and behaviors of Jesus of Nazareth. The problem is that I used to see that vision in very broad terms. I may not have agreed with the specific doctrines and practices of some denominations. But I recognized Jesus in their midst. I now see and understand the vision much more narrowly. That's either the fault of my own narrowing thinking or the wholesale abandonment of historic Christianity. On the whole, I'd rather hang out with the pagans. They tend to think and live more like Jesus.

Pass the Creamer

"These aren't people; these are animals."
- Donald Trump, April 5, 2019, describing people asking for asylum at the U.S./Mexican border

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me"
- Emma Lazarus, Words inscribed at the base of the Statue of Liberty

About once a week I encounter a Christian friend who tells me I am being too harsh; that all of the animosity would melt away if we just sat down over a cup of coffee or a meal. I've also encountered several "Just Chill" books of late, all written from the perspective of finding common ground. The latest is "Love Your Enemies: How Decent People Can Save America from the Culture of Contempt," by Arthur C. Brooks, the gist of which is that we can disagree without being disagreeable.

It's a noble goal. I like food. I like coffee. I enjoy hanging out with other human beings. And sure, let's be civil with one another. Can we perhaps start with the President of the United States?

This is not the first time Donald Trump has described immigrants as animals. He also did so in May of 2018 in a speech in which he also described the arrival of immigrants in this country as an "infestation," a term normally reserved for termites and cockroaches. I'll leave it as an exercise for you, dear reader, to research when in history the same terms have been used to describe human beings.

It seems to me that it should not be particularly morally complicated to state that the President's terminology, and his view of people with brown skin, is deeply abhorrent. If you're a Darwinian Survival of the Fittest devotee or otherwise a white supremacist, I can see where it might sound fine. But if you adhere to the ideals on which this country was founded, have at one time or another believed the advertising we've offered to incoming strangers for the past 140 years, or consider yourself a follower of Jesus Christ, then let's not agree to disagree. Let's agree to agree instead. Let's agree that the President's thinking is deeply anti-Christian and deeply anti-American.

Okay? And I'll be happy to sit down with you over dinner or a cup of coffee and agree with your agreement. If you disagree, then it's highly likely that I'm going to have a problem with you. I'll try to persuade you to follow the ideals and beliefs that you theoretically espouse. But there's no way in hell I'm going to view this as some sort of harmless disagreement and pass the creamer.

President Pete

The first time I was able to vote for President I voted primarily because I believed my candidate was a good man. That was 1976, and the man (there were only men under consideration at that point) was Jimmy Carter. Jimmy didn't have much political experience, and he was basically a peanut farmer, but I believed in his fundamental decency, as well as in his (then Evangelical, as it was understood; the times have changed juuuuust a bit since then) Christian faith.

I don't know if he was a great President. There are people who tell me he was not, although I tend to view his "problems" as outside of his control, and his downfall as the fault of the then-emerging Christian right that has fucked with both the country and Christianity ever since. At any rate, he has proven himself in the intervening 45 years to be very much a good man, perhaps the last of his breed, but perhaps not. He's still the only President in my lifetime that I would unequivocally trust as a human being.

This week I watched several interviews with Pete Buttigieg, 37-year-old mayor of South Bend, Indiana, and was reminded of my initial impression of Jimmy Carter. Buttigieg is smart, articulate, and multi-talented. As a Democrat, he polled 80% of the votes in a red city in a very red state. Beyond that, though, I listened to him speak off the cuff about a variety of issues and believed him to be a good man, someone I would actually want as my neighbor, for example, or someone I wouldn't feel deeply disturbed by if they hung out with my wife or daughters. This is progress.

Buttigieg is being touted as a potential presidential candidate. I would almost certainly vote for him, and his relative youth and lack of political experience is, in my mind, somewhat offset by the notion that we are currently dealing with a highly immoral reality TV star and game show host. He's also gay, which probably means that he has 0% chance of winning, because this is Amerikkka, and because there are millions of people who would automatically vote against him for that very reason.

But it was fairly refreshing to encounter a good man who also happened to be a politician. I miss those folks.

Beauty Will Save the World

To the extent that I care about theology these days, I can safely state that I am not a Calvinist. And you'd be correct in assuming that a Christian university called Calvin College might adhere to Calvinist theology. All of that is to say that I have no horse in this race other than the horse that believes that art - all by itself, no further justifications theological or otherwise needed - is a worthwhile pursuit. I will also admit to adhering to the stubborn notion that beauty can rip a hole in your soul that lets the light shine through, only because I've experienced that phenomenon time and time again.

I don't know Ken Heffner well. I've only interacted with him a few times when he has graciously invited me to participate as a speaker at Calvin's biennial Festival of Faith and Music. But I've followed him and his work from afar because I've been consistently amazed by and impressed with what one man with a vision can do at a conservative Christian college. I've witnessed dozens of thinkers and yes, first-rate musicians and bands converge on Grand Rapids, Michigan, of all places, to play music and talk about the role of music in living life; actual awake life that is attuned to beauty and truth and escaping the tiny prison of oneself. Some of those thinkers and musicians have been Christians. Some of them haven't been. But the level of discourse has been consistently challenging, uplifting, and thrilling. I've invariably emerged from those long weekends re-energized, believing strongly that I'm not alone in this strange, God-forsaken, spiritual-platitude-mouthing country, and that there were and are people out there who see the world in roughly the same way I do. Brothers and sisters? It's a bizarre and wholly inadequate concept for the most part, but I found them at Calvin College.

So I'm saddened but not at all shocked that the conservative Christian world has deigned that people like Ken no longer make sense, or cents, for Christian universities. You can't bank on the commodities in which Ken Heffner trafficked. What is the value of seeing the world in new ways? What is the price tag for being ripped wide open by beauty?

I have no answers to those questions, but I want to thank Ken Heffner for being Ken Heffner, and for focusing on the priceless.

https://calvinchimes.org/2019/03/29/calvin-cuts-sao-and-ken-heffner-from-budget-students-uneasy/

The Sound of Silence

“Hello darkness, my old friend, 
I've come to talk with you again, 
Because a vision softly creeping, 
Left its seeds while I was sleeping, 
And the vision that was planted in my brain 
Still remains 
Within the sound of silence”
- Paul Simon, “The Sound of Silence”

The vision that was planted in my brain, lo, some 44 years ago now, was based on love and inclusion. It was based on a fundamental (not fundamentalist) assumption: God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. That little term “world” was significant to me, and helped form some important assumptions:

· God’s love transcended national borders, and attempts to limit God’s love along nationalistic lines should properly be considered idolatry. God’s love = good. Idolatry = bad. That’s where black and white entered my thinking.
· God’s love crossed and transcended racial and ethnic boundaries. If God showered his love upon the red and yellow, black and white (to quote a well-known Sunday School ditty that kids have been singing for decades), then I had no business, as someone who claimed to follow God’s son, excluding anyone for those reasons. Indeed, I had no business doing anything other than extending the love of God which had been extended to me.
· God’s love encompassed those who are different from me; different cultures, different languages, different beliefs and values, different social organizations. Different was not bad. It was good. It was evidence of God’s all-encompassing love.

Let me note that this is nice theory. I fail at it. There are days when I am challenged to love my own wife and kids, and they are dearer to me than anyone else on the planet. But one thing I don’t do is redefine the theory to fit my failure. I don’t conclude that my failure to live God’s love is okay with God. I don’t justify the abdication of my responsibility to carry that love to those who are different from me by claiming that God really doesn’t want me to love the people of the planet; all of them. That would be living a lie. Instead, I engage in an old-fashioned and now outmoded Christian notion called repentance. I tell God I’m sorry for my failure. I ask for help – divine and/or human, I’m open to both – to do better in the future.

It has come to my attention, oh, a few thousand times in the past four years that much of the Christian Church in America doesn’t actually believe this – doesn’t have a clue about its history and teachings - when it pertains to neo-Saviors. Up until, say, 2015 or so, Christians were reasonably consistent in being opposed to and standing against people who called Nazis “very fine people,” paid off porn stars and Playboy models, tried to ban people from other countries and other religions, insulted dead politicians on almost a daily basis, lied pathologically, caged toddlers, threatened to jail political opponents, and called the free press “the enemy of the people.” One could have concluded that at least a few of those “God so loved the world” sentiments might have kicked in and that thinking, praying people might have realized that that fundamental belief was utterly incompatible with what they were witnessing. And once upon a time Christians would have stated that. They would have uttered sentiments such as, “This is wrong. This is deeply inconsistent with what we believe. We’re opposed to this because it contradicts our most deeply held beliefs and values.”

Ah, but that was so long ago. At least four years. Meanwhile, I’m living in the past. Sadly, the 44-year-old vision that was planted in my brain still remains. But it is impossible to ignore the silence. It is deafening. It drowns out whatever feeble excuse the contemporary Christian Church in America offers to rationalize its own denial and inaction.

https://youtu.be/4fWyzwo1xg0

True, Kind, Necessary

Is it true?
Is it kind?
Is it necessary?

Three questions I'm told I should ask myself before I speak, and certainly before I post anything online.

And so I ask them.

Is it true? Well, there it is. A tweet. One of thousands, put out there for public consumption by the President of the United States. It is true. He wrote it, or at least allowed his name and likeness to be associated with the words. To the extent that anything is true these days, this is true.

Is it kind? Obviously, the sentiments expressed are not kind. They are the equivalent of the fourth-grade bully you perhaps encountered on the playground. Who's a butthead? YOU'RE a butthead. Is it kind for me to bring this up? I don't know. I struggle with this. I'm told I should just ignore it, get on with my life, just accept the constant drip, drip, drip of inane, lobotomized incivility and not stop to wonder what this is doing to our society, to me. Who's a butthead? Feel free to think of me as one if it will help you sleep at night.

Is it necessary? No, it's not necessary. None of this is necessary. The tweet isn't necessary. My response to it isn't necessary. But I can't turn it off and pretend that it's not there, that it isn't happening. I can't turn off the notion that the President's job offer to George Conway is a matter of public record, as is George Conway's very public decline of that job offer. You can, as they say, look them up. They're easy to find.

This is still known in some circles as lying. I can't help it. I remember the notions of human decency and objective truth, hearkening back fondly to times when they used to matter, and I still lament the roaring silence of much of what passes for the Christian Church in America, the great cosmic shushing of conscience. Mine has a hard time staying quiet. Shhhh!

But it's hard to remain silent. I struggle with this all the time, almost every hour. Forgive my lack of kindness, the unnecessary intrusion into your pleasant day. Ironic, isn't it?

One and Done

Once upon a time, colleges focused on education. The student-athletes (note the order) played sports, but were expected to attend classes and work toward graduation.

All of that changed a couple decades back when the universities, the NCAA,(the governing body of college sports) and the NBA colluded to make a mockery of the ol' alma mater. The biggest perpetrator was one John Calipari, coach of, first, the University of Memphis, and later the University of Kentucky, who started recruiting the best basketball players in the U.S. to play precisely one year. And so they did, winning a lot of games and some college basketball championships along the way before they abruptly departed for the NBA. If there was a silver lining, it was that this academic mockery occurred at the University of Memphis and the University of Kentucky, not exactly known for churning out Rhodes Scholars.

In 2019, the "finest" proponent of gaming the system is one Mike Krzyzewski, the head coach of Duke University's basketball team. Duke, you may recall, is one of the finest academic institutions in the land. This year Duke's team features not one, not two, not three, but four freshman players who will bid a fond farewell to the hallowed halls in May to take their chances in the NBA lottery draft. They may or may not have completed their freshman requirements. Who cares? It's a joke.

I don't blame the kids. They're doing what any 18-year-old with an opportunity to earn millions of dollars would do. But something is rotten in the state of North Carolina. And Kentucky. And most states. The rent-a-player stakes could not be higher, and it's very likely that Duke will win this year's college basketball championship. Meanwhile, the administration of Duke, and Kentucky, and God knows how many other schools, will still have to wake up and look themselves in the mirror and convince themselves that it's all about higher education.

                                  

Rorschach Jesus Redux

In the last extended time Jesus spends with his disciples, He prays this prayer: "My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me." (John 17) 

This seems to indicate that the idea of "oneness" is a big deal; so much so that the witness of the Christian Church, as a whole, is contingent on the notion of unity. The way this is often interpreted in the modern ecclesiastical world is this: “You (the other 8,632,970 flavors that are not mine) are welcome to conform to my flavor. Then we’ll truly be one and look like Jesus.” I think this way too, by the way. Feel free to conform to me. It will go better for you in my world, and in God’s, if you do. I believe I have it right, based on extensive study, prayer, and application of hermeneutical principles interpreted in the light of contemporary sociological and political events, as well as a direct pipeline from God to my soul. In Enneagram terms, this is classic Type 1 (Reformer) thinking. It is somewhat balanced by my Enneagram wings, which are Type 9 (Fuck it; leave me alone) and Type 2 (Why don’t you like me?). You think I’m joking? You must not know me well. I’m not kidding. Join me in the Truth, which is not Flavor #8,632,971, but a return to the original, Jesus-lovin’ deal.

God help me, I do think this way. This is a core part of my personality.

An alien anthropologist, tasked with chronicling the many varieties of Christianity currently found in America, would have a difficult time finding much in common in the 8,632,971 different flavors of Christian Church he/she/it would encounter. In one church, a man in an ornate purple and gold robe might be found chanting 3^rd-century theology while slinging incense toward an altar. In another church, a hundred people might be found sitting around in a circle, sitting in silence that was only broken up by periodic a capella songs. In still another church, a rock band might be found strutting and fretting its hour upon the stage, leading fervent hootenannies expressing Jesus Is My Girlfriend sentiments. This is the American Christian Church – or actually just a tiny snapshot of it – circa 2019.

This is hardly a startling revelation. The Christian Church is nothing like the Christian Church. Really. Verily, even. It’s okay. Jesus – the Jesus the gospel writers wrote about – is now 2,000 years removed from leaving footprints in the sand except in the most metaphorical of senses. And like the telephone game in which a message is passed from one addled hearer to another, on and on down the line, the message in 2019 often bears little resemblance to the message that simple Galilean fishermen heard in the first century.

The standard response to this conundrum is that Christians are united by our belief in Jesus. Sure, the forms and the styles and yes, even the doctrines vary from group to group. But we’re all one in Jesus. We are family. All my brothers and sisters and me. We are family. Get up everybody and sing.

I like this sentiment. It’s catchy. My experience in living it has been less than ideal, both on the giving and receiving end, but it’s a nice theory. The problem is, and always has been, which Jesus we accept as the source of unity. And in the age of Rorschach Jesus, all 8,632,971 different flavors of Him, the issue is more confused, and the various Jesus Follower camps are as divergent and as diametrically opposed as they have ever been. Again, there’s nothing new under the sun. In Germany in the 15^th century, Catholics slaughtered Lutherans, and Lutherans slaughtered Catholics, and Catholics and Lutherans together slaughtered Calvinists, and the poor, peace-loving Anabaptists, the forerunners of the Mennonites and Amish and Brethren, never stood a chance. They were wiped out by everybody. Praise God. This is how it tends to go, and how it has always gone. And this is the way it’s going in 2019 as well. Christians not only disagree with one another; they believe things that directly contradict one another and are diametrically opposed to one another.

United in Jesus means beating your swords into plowshares and toting your AK-47 into the sanctuary. It means loving and serving immigrants with the special love God has for them and caging immigrant toddlers at the border. It means believing that personal character and ethics matter and that it’s no big deal to carry on an affair with a porn star while your wife sits at home caring for your infant son. It means being “pro-life” for babies in the womb and treating born people with brown skin, or different religious beliefs, with hatred and scorn. This is the American Church in 2019.

Rorschach Jesus. Which one(s) will you follow? What and where is the unity? I wish someone would let me know.