We Have Met the Enemy

“We have met the enemy, and he is us,” was famously said by comic strip character, Pogo, a creation of cartoonist, Walt Kelly.  Originally the quote came from an Earth Day poster in 1970 to illustrate our human complicity in the problems of pollution.  As in so many circumstances human beings are our own worst enemy.  

I have been shaped by this kind of thinking.  Theologically, I have a well-developed view of sin.  Though created in the original good graces of a loving God, we humans have trouble getting out of our own way.  I am often disappointed, discouraged, and dismayed at sinful human behavior, but never surprised.  As hymnist Robert Robinson put it, “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it.”  Selfishness, greed, and other distressing tendencies always seem to get in the way of our best intentions.  I wish it were otherwise, but there it is.

Pogo’s observation keeps us from pointing the finger at the sin outside of us.  Wickedness may lie “out there” somewhere in some readily recognizable “them,” but the truth remains that there is wickedness at work in “us,” as well.  “You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor’s eye” (Matthew 7:5).  And again, “Judge not, that ye be not judged” (Matthew 7:1-3).

Still, one cannot live life without making judgments.  When faced with two or more choices, one must choose, and preferably the choice is right, or life-giving, loving, or at the least, the lesser of two evils.  And in making such judgments one necessarily implies that those who choose otherwise have made the wrong choice.  That does not make them evil, of course, only misguided or perhaps, ignorant.  There is also the possibility that they are willfully reprobate, or incalcitrant.  But, as Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34).  

In Christian orthodoxy (“right teaching”), the Church has tried to avoid dualism - creating a false dichotomy between “us” (the good), and “them” (the evil).  When we point the finger at someone else, the cliche reminds us that there are three fingers pointing back at us.  So, we must discern the presence of evil with humility and mercy.  But we must nonetheless use our discernment lest we ourselves be tempted to fall into sin.  

Christians have committed atrocities in our history by not distinguishing between the evil and the good.  Christians have defended slavery.  Thank God there were also Christians who were ardent abolitionists.  Christians in Germany supported Hitler.  Thank God there was also The Confessing Movement which perceived and warned of Nazism’s excesses.  And as much as scripture cautions us against being overly judgmental, we are also warned to not worship golden calves.  Scripture alarms us regarding “desolating sacrilege.”  Jesus pronounced woe on the scribes and Pharisees whom he judged as wrong.  Jesus drove the moneychangers out of the temple for turning worship into an economic transaction.  Jesus made judgments of people repeatedly.  Jesus reminds us that “narrow is the gate . . . which leads to life,” and “wide . . . is the way that leads to destruction (Matthew 7:13-14).  In other words, we must make judgments about how to live into Christlikeness.

Not to belabor the subject, I want to suggest some ways that disciples of Jesus might follow in the narrow way in the midst of choices and controversies that face us in the 21st Century.  In the current racial crisis we would do well to follow the Golden Rule.  Doing unto others as we would have done to us is not only good advice for interpersonal relationships but also a preferred way of ordering society.  Our institutions would thereby provide equal opportunity for all.  As “white” people have experienced privilege (as has been done to “us”), how might we structure our society so that privilege was available to people of color (and so do for “others”)? 

In regards to immigration, our policies and procedures would be marked by “welcoming the stranger,” rather than the boondoggle of building walls.  While immigration reform is necessary, the border separation of children from their parents would not be tolerated.  “If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea” (Matthew 18:6). 

The great conflict caused by the coronavirus pandemic pits economic interests against community health.  Loss of jobs is a catastrophic consequence of social distancing measures.  However, the alternative leads to death for vulnerable populations.  In such a time, Christians would willingly sacrifice for the greater good, and governments would provide relief for those making the greatest sacrifices.  “Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:4).

Each of the preceding paragraphs could easily become a long chapter in a book, even a book in itself.  But these are examples of how a Christian makes judgments in the midst of the variety of choices before us in the present day.  I venture to add one more example:  gun control.  And I lead with a question:  What is the Biblical precedent for gun rights?  When Jesus says, “Those who live by the sword shall die by the sword,” how does the Christian justify the right to be armed to the hilt?  When Jesus says, “If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also . . ,” how does the Christian justify concealed carry? The right to bear arms may be a constitutional provision but it is not a Christian right, and by no means is it a Christian virtue.

As someone once said, “If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.”  Christians must stand for what is right, life-giving, and loving.  Christians must make judgments in order to be Christlike.  As lines are drawn in the sand there are times when one must choose which side one is on, but with a reminder, also from Jesus who said, “Love your enemies.”  As we choose between the evil and the good, let humility, mercy, and love be our guide in our relationships with those who have, regrettably, chosen wrong.    

    

The Times, They Are A'Changin'

1964.  Fifty-six years ago Bob Dylan came out with a song about changing times.  The 60’s were to be an era of societal change toward a more utopian vision of love, peace and justice for all.  The Baby Boomers protested the war.  Black Panthers organized.  Women’s Liberationists burned their bras.  And I suppose that there were some changes, certainly not utopian, but for the better in most cases.  New laws were passed.  Affirmative Action sought to level the playing field.  Women gained some reproductive freedom. The Viet Nam war ended, ingloriously.  

But the “movement” also fizzled out.  Baby Boomers became bankers and Cadillac drivers.  Black Panthers lost steam.  And bras actually made a comeback.  Change takes time and effort.  And momentum.  For decades the momentum was lost.  Blame it on the human incapacity to sustain focus, or blame it on disco.  Maybe we are all ADHD.  Whatever the case may be, the momentum has returned.

A new generation is protesting alongside some Baby Boomers who retained their idealism.  Black Lives Matter has taken the mantle from their Black Panther parents.  #MeToo has reminded us that women have yet to achieve the status of equals.  And a new cry for justice has arisen from the LGBTQ+ community which even our nation’s Supreme Court has heard.  The times they are a changin,’ indeed.

But with an eye toward the 60’s and wondering if history will repeat itself, we have yet to see if the movements in this particular moment in time will stall out, or whether the momentum will continue toward significant change.  And it is not a foregone conclusion that the changes in the works will be utopian or dystopian.  There are powerful forces that seek to undermine the dormant movements that are now finding their voices.  There are opposing visions of what it means to be a great nation, and that opposition has shown itself to be openly hostile and violent.  We do not all share the same values.

The COVID-19 pandemic has served as a catalyst for change.  The virus has created a flashpoint, throwing into sharp relief the differences in values.  Where the truth lies is often in the gray areas of complexity and mutuality.  However, the present multiple societal crises have led to polarization of opinions as if there can only be two sides to any issue - you’re wrong, and I’m right!

Is the future to be Utopia?  Free health care, education, Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid.  Affordable Housing.  A Living Wage.  Shattered glass ceilings.  Equal Opportunity.  Discrimination protections.  Immigration reform.  Ecologically sustainable practices.  

Is the future Dystopia?  Police states.  Hyper-militarism.  Protectionism.  Isolation.  Fascism.  Will we govern with fear of the “other”?  Will we blame our problems on the scapegoat of the moment?    

I had a recent conversation that reveals the problem in values.  

He said, “Diversity is a problem.” 

I said, “Diversity is a challenge, but is the reality we must embrace.”  

He said, “Diversity is a problem.”     

I said, “Diversity is the future, and is unavoidable.”

He said, “Diversity is a problem.”

I said, “Diversity may make us a better community if we approach it with openness.”

That conversation reminded me of a line by Bruce Hornsby, “Hey, old man, how can you stand to think that way.”

I admit that it is easier to form communities of persons who all look, think and act alike.  As a pastor, one of the greatest challenges I faced was to hold a community together that was ethnically, socio-economically, and educationally diverse.  With a multiplicity of viewpoints and backgrounds, one must field a variety of opinions on how to do everything from what songs to sing in worship to what constitutes the mission of the church.  And when you thrust that dynamic onto a diverse society which does not profess Oneness in Christ it becomes an almost insurmountable challenge.  Almost.  

The thing is, as we listen to voices unlike our own, we learn new stories.  As we hear the songs of different cultures our horizons are widened.  As we hold the hand of sisters whose life-experiences have been dramatically different we develop empathy.  When we engage in relationships with brothers of a different world, our own world expands and our capacity for compassion grows.  

But when we demonize “the other” we engage in the worst form of humanity.  We descend into tribalism and polarization which, I believe, ultimately destroys human community.  

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., once said that the arc of the universe bends toward justice.  Theologically speaking, the kingdom of God is at hand.  There are obstacles to the consummation of God’s plans for the human experiment, but the arrival of the New Jerusalem is inevitable.  The times, they are a’changin’.  Peace, love, and justice will prevail.  As I once heard Bishop Desmond Tutu say, “The question we must answer is, ‘What side of history do we want to be on’?”   

What Would Mr. Rogers Do?

“Idiot.”

While riding my bicycle recently, a pickup truck passed by and the driver very clearly articulated his opinion of me through his open window.  I didn’t and couldn’t argue that a cyclist has as much right to be on the road as a driver.  I have learned that one can’t argue with three tons of sheet metal from the saddle of an eighteen pound carbon bicycle.  Giving the driver the benefit of the doubt, I suspect he is not a hateful person but simply gave in to a stereotypical response of frustration at how cyclists temporarily hamper vehicle traffic.  

I didn’t take his jibe personally, but it did set me to musing on the ways I have spoken the same word, “idiot,” to refer to certain politicians, or other newsworthy persons, who seem to have acted rashly, unthinkingly or, to put it bluntly, stupidly.  I have found myself in recent years using the “i” word more frequently than I remember in the past.  Are there more ignorant people about these days, or have I become less tolerant and charitable?

All this musing on idiocy has included thoughts on Fred Rogers, of children’s TV, who I believe is one of the greatest individuals in modern history.  While I never watched Mr. Rogers in childhood, and I discounted him as boring while my own children were growing up, I have since paid more attention to who he was and what he sought to accomplish.  I have come to love and respect him, and have sought to emulate him in my own actions, particularly the way in which he gave unfeigned attention to each individual with whom he came into contact.  He demonstrated a depth of empathy that is rare in human relationships.  And while it was popular for a while for Christians to ask, “What would Jesus do?”  I have found myself asking, “What would Mr. Rogers do?”

I suspect he would not call anyone an idiot.  He would understand the childhood trauma, or neglect, that leads to gaps in personal growth.  He would comprehend that bad behavior is often the result of a failure in the nurture of an individual.  My insight into this gracious approach to persons came many years ago in relation to a member of my church who seemed to take a special interest in making my life hell.  He criticized my sermons, my decisions, my vision for the church.  I hated to see him coming into my office because I knew I would have to deal with another gripe session.  He struck me as an angry, hateful man.  In the course of my pastoral work in that church, I eventually learned that his son had died while only in his 20’s, and I began to believe that this father’s anger was directed at God, and not at me.  I began to pray for him, and to see him, not as someone possessed by some demonic force, but stricken with grief and pain.  From that insight forward, I was no longer plagued by my encounters with him. I was able to love him and be a pastor to him, even though his behavior toward me never changed.  I never liked him.  But I could love him.

I have tried this approach with those who I have a tendency to label as idiots.  To try to empathize with the ignorant is not for the faint of heart.  Nor is it easily done.  I lapse.  I try to picture the bully politician as a child who was not well-loved.  I ask, “What would Mr. Rogers do?”  Here I am, sixty-three years old, and I’m still trying to be a decent human being.

On Stupidity

I used to think that ignorance, or stupidity, was a social ill that could be addressed and corrected by education, information, facts, etc.  I have since been convinced that so much ignorance is actually an act of will - a willful refusal to accept what is true.  As such an act of willfulness, ignorance is a sin, with the consequent damage sin brings with it.

Bonhoeffer's observation offers no solution.  I'm not sure there is one.  I suggested in my last blog that the Christian response to the ignorant is grace and mercy, but to offer grace is a sacrifice.  To offer grace to the willfully ignorant is a gift given, expecting nothing in return.  Indeed, the ignorant person will not consider it a gift but his due.  The ignorant person feels entitled, deserving, to whatever good comes her way.  This is why the Christian cannot offer grace with a transactional mindset.  We cannot expect that the offer of grace will necessarily lead to a change in the willfully ignorant.  No, the offer of grace is a sacrifice.  We offer grace not because we expect results.  We offer grace because this is the nature of God.  This is Christlikeness, and this is the only thing that matters.

Of course, grace is to govern our relationship and response to the willfully ignorant.  However, this does not mean we are choosing to be ignorant ourselves.  We can continue to act rationally and ethically in opposition to the ignorant.  They vote.  We vote.  They run for office.  We run for office.  There must be alternatives to ignorance.  We must act in spite of, and in opposition to, ignorance.  We must continue to allow facts to guide our actions in contradiction to the uninformed biases and rants of the ignorant.  

I am uncomfortable with this line of thinking, however.  I realize I am creating a false “us” versus “them” dichotomy, as if I am the arbiter of who qualifies as rational . . . as if I am not ignorant, myself.  In the past I have tried to avoid this kind of dualistic thinking because I see the danger in this kind of judgment.  Jesus warned us about seeing the speck in our neighbor’s eye while refusing to remove the log in our own eye.  So, one must be aware of and accept one’s own ignorance.  To judge another as ignorant can be a serious mistake.  But . . . how can we live without making judgments?  Is it not also a serious mistake to allow ignorance to have its way in the world?  

I take some comfort that Bonhoeffer and I are in agreement.  If I have erred in my judgments, I am in good company.  Ignorance cannot be left unconfronted.  Otherwise, it will be the death of all of us.  

Ignorance Is No Excuse

In my ministry I have attempted to be a pastor to all, whether a member of my church, or a member of the community.  Whether they were agreeable or disagreeable.  Whether their opinions were mine or not.  Whether they were rich or poor.  In other words, I tried to offer grace and respect to everyone.  The theology of pastoral work is the recognition that each person is formed in the image of God.  Or, coming at this from a different angle, each individual is someone for whom Christ died.  As an ordained minister, or as a lay person, we are to acknowledge the reflection of God in each person.  As one popular folk song put it, “The Christ in me greets the Christ in thee.”

To be honest, this has been hard work.  But fruitful.  To love someone who is ornery, or whose opinions are repulsive, is difficult.  But in seeking to understand, or empathize, with someone has helped me to come at issues from different perspectives.  I have learned that someone’s present anger and hostility might be rooted in some past pain and grievance that has never been resolved.  I have discovered that a bully may have not been loved as a child.  Typically, the reason someone may be a difficult character in the present is because they have endured some kind of suffering in the past.  Through my experiences I have learned to be tolerant of others, to sympathize with their weaknesses, and to attempt to love them into wholeness - not always successfully, but worth the effort.

But one of the hardest obstacles to my capacity to love another has been their ignorance.  I used to think that ignorance was something that people couldn’t help - that it was a failure in their education, in their upbringing - a sociological problem.  And though it is anecdotal, my experience has taught me that ignorance is in many ways more intractable, like sin itself.  How else can one explain that ignorance exists not only in the poorly educated, but also in the Ivy League graduate?  Why else would otherwise rational individuals hold opinions that are counter to their own interests?  As one example, who in their right mind would deny the historic efficacy of vaccination in public health, and yet scores of educated people refuse to have their children vaccinated.  Another example, glaciers are retreating at unprecedented rates and polar regions are becoming navigable, yet supposedly intelligent politicians and lobbyists refuse to acknowledge that this might be a problem.

In the criminal justice system, ignorance of the law has never been an excuse leading to acquittal.  Yet in civic affairs, in the running of government, in every day human interaction, ignorance is a constant source of conflict and dispute.  Don’t confuse us with the facts.  Opinions rule the day.  People cut off their noses to spite their faces.  As Bruce Hornsby once sang, “Hey, old man, how can you stand to think that way?”  

As a pastor I have tried to offer grace to the ignorant.  My model for this is Jesus, of course.  As he was being crucified, Jesus extended grace to his killers, “Father, forgive them, because they don’t know what they’re doing.”  To forgive is a recognition that a sin has been committed.  In other words, ignorance is a sin.  A sin that can only be redeemed by grace.  What sticks in my craw, however, is that ignorance leads to suffering for others.  Jesus suffered because of ignorance.  People continue to suffer because of ignorance.  To me, this fact is appalling.  Even infuriating.  But no amount of education or reasoned argument is able to correct ignorance, it seems.  Only grace.  Only forgiveness.  

May God grant me mercy in the presence of ignorance that I may respond with grace.  And may I, unaware of my own ignorance, be more like the repentant Pharisee, asking, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.”           

Self-Restraint

But take care that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block to the weak. 1 Corinthians 8:9

The apostle Paul was a cheerleader for Christian freedom (Galatians 5:1).  He often made the case in his letters that Christ’s atoning work set us free from the stringencies of the law.  But the freedom that Paul describes is not freedom from responsibility.  Indeed, there is an expectation that Christian freedom leads to direct responsibility for relationships with others.  The defining parameter for Christian freedom is found in the scriptural command, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  (Galatians 5:14)

Thus, love of neighbor provides the guiding principle for our freedom.  We are free to do whatever leads to the good for our neighbor.  John Wesley’s first two General Rules underscore this guiding principle - Do no harm, and do good.  Certainly, Christian freedom guards against self-interest at the expense of the community.  

Our present pandemic crisis serves as an illustration of two juxtaposing expressions of freedom.  There are those who are interpreting their freedom as a license to do as they please regardless of what is best for the community.  Protesters armed with weapons enter a government building in Michigan in order to demonstrate their freedom.  On the other hand, medical professionals from different states voluntarily offer their services to hospitals in New York City to aid their efforts to help patients suffering from COVID-19.  If those two examples express the extremes of a freedom continuum, which of the two appears to be the best example of Christian freedom?  Duh.

Clearly, there are two values that are at war with each other at the present time - the value of health and wellness versus the value of financial well-being.  There are also two kinds of suffering that result if either of those values are sacrificed.  There is no unanimity of opinion on which of these values should have priority, though the majority of Americans have agreed that public health requires the present financial sacrifice.  There are those who disagree quietly.  And there are those who disagree belligerently.    

The apostle Paul’s guidance on our use of freedom is instructive.  We are free, he says, but not if our freedom causes another to stumble (Romans 14:13).  The Christian use of freedom, therefore, is not arrogant.  “It does not insist on its own way . . .” (1 Corinthians 13:5).  Christian freedom is most incarnate when it is expressed for the good of relationships, when it builds up community, when it shows love of the neighbor.  

I am eager for the lifting of restrictions on commerce and the easing of social distancing requirements.  I empathize with those who are suffering the loss of income and jobs and I can not imagine their bewilderment and anxiety.  I do not wish to minimize their worry and pain.  But people are dying from this disease.  More people have died in two months in the U.S. from the coronavirus than died in the many years of the Vietnam War.  At this time how can we use our freedom to do any less than what love requires?

Salvation as a Community Experience

You would think that this period of social isolation would not be such a handicap to an introvert like myself.  I have always needed time and space to be alone.  Self-chosen isolation, which I prefer to call solitude, has been necessary for me to realign my soul so that I might better function as a charitable human being.  While I have never seen myself as the life of the party, I can be a center of social attention and public discourse only to the degree that I can also retreat, restore, and recenter my spirit.

But you can have too much of a good thing.  These days I am longing for a more normal pattern of social engagement.  I miss my family.  I miss my friends.  I miss my church.  While I am taking advantage of the various modern means of staying in touch, there’s no substitute for face-to-face, hand-to-hand, hug-to-hug, encounters.  As St. Paul concludes in 1 Corinthians 13 . . . “now I know in part, then I will know fully, even as I am fully known.”  I think we all hunger to be fully known, and that requires human contact.

I even think our salvation depends on it.  What I mean is that salvation, while often understood as a “right relationship with God,” also requires a “right relationship with other people.”  There is a strain of religious thinking that emphasizes the vertical relationship with God to the neglect of our horizontal relationship with others.  This is unfortunate and, I believe, a distortion of how salvation is to be understood.  The Great Commandment is a two-fold love - of God and neighbor - but in some circles all that seems to matter is one’s relationship with God.  But I am convinced that one can only get one’s heart right with God if one’s heart is also right with others.

A long-ago friend once said that one’s love for God is only as deep as one’s love for one’s neighbor.  Maybe.  Nevertheless, I do believe that salvation is not a private transaction between the self and God, but a corporate, communal transaction - “God so loved the WORLD.”  My salvation is integral to God’s activity to save all of creation.  Therefore, the welfare of my neighbors (near and far) is essential to my personal well-being as it relates to my salvation.

This communal understanding of salvation has practical implications for how we behave during a pandemic.  My decision to keep social distance, to wear a mask, and to comply with health expert directives, is made for the good of the community.  When I overstep these boundaries in the interests of personal freedom I deny my responsibility to the common good.  My unwillingness to sacrifice for the community is an act of selfishness, and ultimately a slap at the face of God’s plan to save the world.

Several years ago a reporter was in the stands at Wallace Wade Stadium at Duke University witnessing the Special Olympics where athletes were competing in track and field events.  During one race as the runners sprinted down their lanes toward the finish line one of the racers stumbled and fell, sprawling on the track.  The other runners, of course, noticed the mishap of this competitor and instead of leaving him behind, turned back to help him up, and with joined hands they all continued the race, crossing the finish line together.  

This story illustrates the way I believe God’s plan of salvation works.  None of us is saved unless all of us are saved.  I’m not sure this is orthodoxy.  And I suppose there might be some logical questions one might ask of such a theological perspective.  But I’m content that this theology comes closer to the heart of Jesus than the flawed narratives of most substitutionary theories of personal salvation.  And, practically speaking, this theology leads to a better world in which to live.  Indeed, it probably gives us a kinder, more inclusive vision of heaven as well.

  

Faith

I am a man of faith, but not very much.  I was and in some ways still am a pastor, even though I have retired.  As such faith is important to me.  Still, in every community where I have served there have been many members of my churches whose faith far exceeded any faith I’ve ever had.  I take some solace in the parable of the mustard seed.  Apparently one needs but a small amount of faith to be a Christian and to be of some use to the kingdom of God.

Nevertheless, I have always been bothered by my inability to deepen, or expand, my trust in God’s grace.  I have preached it, certainly.  After all, sermons are not rooted simply in the human experience but in divine revelation.  I preach about what God has promised, not about my own capacity to believe the promises.  In fact, my sermons have always left me wanting more.  I tell stories of faithful people.  I find in the scriptures testimony of miracles and wonders.  And I long for experiences which will confirm the promises, but when I catch myself in that longing I realize that I have fallen into a trap.  

And what is the trap?  The trap is desire for proof.  If I want experiences to confirm God’s promises, then what I want is for God to prove what God has said.  And as soon as I ask for proof, then I am no longer a man of faith.  In the epistle to the Hebrews Chapter 11 we find this mystery, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  Not proof, you see.  Things “hoped for.”  Things “not seen.”  As soon as we ask for proof we have fallen into the hands of Satan who tempted Jesus in the same way.  With the three temptations in the wilderness Satan was goading Jesus into asking God for proofs.  But Jesus would have none of it.  He trusted in what the scriptures had to say and left it at that.  He would not put God to the test.

Recently, the pastor of an evangelical church died of COVID-19.  He had declared from the outset of the directives for social distancing that he was not going to close his church, something to the effect that he would keep preaching until he was in jail or in the hospital.  His congregation thought his convictions came out of a deep faith that God would not let anything happen to him.  But I think he was putting God to the test.  And when one puts God to the test, that is not faith.  I am sorry the man died.  But his foolish disregard for the facts of the coronavirus pandemic was not the way to witness to the faith he had.

Still, I wish I had more faith.  If faith is the assurance of things hoped for, I wish I had more assurance.  If faith is the conviction of things not seen, I wish I had more conviction.  But after being a Christian for most of my sixty-three years I have not experienced a dramatic growth in my faith.  So, I just keep plugging along with what little faith I have.  And with it comes this assurance:  that Jesus Christ is the most compelling figure in all of human history and if I could look him in the face I believe I would see in his eyes an indescribable love . . . for me.  And with my faith comes this conviction:  that Jesus wants me to do my best to be a citizen of the kingdom of love that he declared was already breaking into the world in his ministry.

I don’t have very much faith.  But what I do have keeps me grateful and obedient.  I suppose I could be more thankful than I am.  And I know I could be more obedient.  Like I said, my faith is tiny, like a mustard seed.  But maybe that’s enough.  Still, I’ll keep asking for more.

Wishing Injury to False Prophets

I have found myself wishing ill of others lately, particularly those who in my opinion are misrepresenting Christ Jesus to the world, either by their words or actions.  This troubles me because I have always tried to be mindful of Jesus’ words that “whoever is not against us is for us” (Luke 9:50)

But when religious leaders protect abusive priests; when, in a time of pandemic, deranged preachers urge their congregations to defy social distancing compliance; when white supremacists twist the gospel to support their prejudices; when pastors justify the purchase of private jets as a “word from the Lord;” when evangelical spokesmen defend the immorality of a governmental leader because of an imagined “higher good,” I am driven to the words of St. Paul in addressing the Galatian community (5:12), “I wish those who unsettle you would castrate themselves.”

A little context might help.  The issue is circumcision, a standard Jewish practice that marked one (males) as a “son of Abraham.”  Paul made the argument to all the communities to whom he brought the gospel that if Christ Jesus has set them/us free from the law then circumcision is no longer necessary to mark one as a child of God (“neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything”).  But there were those who Paul considered false prophets who were insisting that adherence to the law of circumcision was still necessary for Christians.  Paul felt that if we were to give in to one aspect of the law then we would be obligated to the law as a whole, thus defeating the whole concept of grace.  He felt so strongly about this that he had no patience or tolerance for these false prophets.  Thus his hostile suggestion that they would mutilate themselves!

I am feeling equally unconciliatory toward those who are perverting the gospel to suit their unChristlike attitudes.  Indeed, I am being judgmental.  Perhaps I am seeing the speck in their eyes without removing the log in my own eye, but I lean on Paul for support.  I think the gospel of Jesus Christ is in many ways being perverted.  Whenever the grace of God is side-stepped then Christians must speak out in defense of the gospel.  These false prophets are guilty of taking the Lord’s name in vain - ascribing to God/Christ things that are ungodly and unChristlike.  To paraphrase Paul, I wish they would be cut off!

Jubilee Mercy

The Year of Jubilee provides a kind of aspirational ideal in the communal life of the historic people of God.  There is little evidence that Israel actually complied with the instructions of Leviticus 25.  So perhaps I am a fool (on this April 1st) to hold out any hope that my country, much less the world, would embrace such an expansive model of societal grace.  Still, I want to ask, especially in light of the present near-apocalyptic global pandemic, what is the alternative?

With world economies in shambles, joblessness going through the roof, supply chains breaking down, and national debts soaring, what would make the most sense in order for all of us to be able to start again a life of relative normalcy?  Will we evict tenants unable to pay their rent?  Should banks foreclose on mortgages?  Will we extract Shylock’s “pound of flesh” to insure we get what is owed to us?  Is there no place for mercy at the end of the pandemic?

Admittedly, getting the nations of the world to agree on a gracious course of economic action would likely be the most formidable challenge the United Nations has ever envisioned.  Cancelling debts, whether of nations or individuals, has consequences for creditors, mortgage holders, and economic systems.  But it seems to me that trying to collect on the world’s debt will be far more destructive to economic recovery than negotiating a model of debt forgiveness akin to what we find outlined in the Year of Jubilee.

At the present moment it is the coronavirus health crisis that is taking all our attention and resources, as it rightly should be.  But a year from now, after the medical crisis has been hopefully disarmed and the virus’ impact has been limited, our crisis will be one of economic justice.  Justice, of course, is “getting what one deserves.”  But if we each and all insist on getting what we deserve, our recovery will not only be prolonged, it will also be nasty - there is no other word.

Mercy, however, as described in Leviticus 25, does not insist on getting what one deserves.  Rather, mercy is a gift given with no strings attached, with no expectation of reciprocation.  The Year of Jubilee provides us with a model for how to restore a community’s life to some degree of fairness after a time when persons (and perhaps nations) have experienced both the ups and downs of human experience.  Such a model does require of those who have profited in life to forego some of that profit for the good of the community.  So, yes, the “haves” must sacrifice for the sake of the “have nots.”  This is a slap in the face of capitalism, but like Jesus said, “what will it profit them to gain the whole world and lose their soul?”

From my perspective the Year of Jubilee is not just an ethical model for us to embrace, but I believe it to be the most practical way forward.  Does it not make sense in light of the economic chaos before us to wipe the slate clean and start afresh?  I do not suggest that any of this will be simple, but I do believe Jubilee would provide a more human, humane, and practical solution to the challenges we will face in the year, or years, to come.  

Jubilee puts a priority on mercy.  Justice, of course, is also a godly principle, and most of us believe in justice.  Most of us want justice for people.  We want people to get what they deserve (whether reward or punishment).  But when the question is turned around to us, we would prefer for ourselves not justice - not what we deserve, but mercy - the gift of a new beginning.  Jubilee insures a new beginning for us all.  Jubilee is what we will need as the coronavirus finishes its course.  We could all use a little mercy now.

      

I Want to Be in that Number

I’ve made some assertions lately, that in every age of history God will have a people to give witness to God’s design and purposes for creation.  There have been times in human history when that body of people has been numerous, and other times, witnessed in scripture, when there have been fewer - a righteous remnant - a missional outpost of the kingdom of God.  I have also described the transition Christianity seems to be experiencing this century, in which traditional embodiments of the faith seem to be waning while new expressions are forming.  I have tried to avoid making judgments about these new expressions, but it stands to reason that some are more faithful than others in embodying the essence of the gospel - the good news of Jesus Christ and his kingdom.  If so, which of these expressions of Christian community are the “righteous remnant”?  

This is a question history has answered with its 20/20 hindsight.  There has been a tug-of-war between true belief and heresy.  Many heresies which have been cast on the waste piles of Christian history - heresies that at one time seemed like valid expressions of faith - Gnosticism,  Arianism, Marcionism, Docetism, Donatism - and the list goes on.

In more recent history, the church has been less prone to brand “heresies” but there are certainly irregular and flawed expressions of Christianity in modern times.  To name a few:  

Darbyism, with its dispensationalist sensationalism. 

Nazi Germany’s coopting of Christianity as a facade for its horrors. 

The Prosperity Gospel’s “name it, claim it,” theology.

The appropriation of Christian language and symbols by white supremicists.

The profiteering of TV evangelists.

I could name more examples but the question remains, how do we recognize the righteous remnant?  How easy it is to fall into the self-deluding belief that we are among the righteous, when more often than not we are actually being self-righteous. How pleasing it is to think, “I am among the few who are right!”  Even when we could not be more wrong!

And while I may be as guilty as anyone in assuming that my opinions are the right ones, the history of orthodoxy leads us not to absolutes but to certain consensual conclusions.  While there are sects and tangential religious movements, some of which have offered helpful, and even needful, lessons for the Church, there  is a core of beliefs and a witness of practices which, over time, have offered a foundation upon which any expression of Christian faith may be judged.  We call that orthodoxy (“straight teaching”).

However, I prefer to focus on orthopraxy (“straight practice”) - instead of being overly concerned with right belief, should we not be looking at right, or fitting, actions?  While Protestantism has been built on “salvation by faith,” perhaps we should not discount the importance of “works.”  John Wesley, the founder of the Methodist movement, insisted that Christianity was based on faith manifested by works.  Our practice of faith, and not simply our creedal beliefs, reveal who we are as Christians.  I am known as a Christian, not only by what I profess, but also by what I do, perhaps principally so.  Jesus, as Savior, calls me to be a disciple, which means “follower.”  Following is an action.  Jesus, as Lord, calls me to obey.  Obeying is an action.  Orthopraxy is as valid a measure of Christian faith as is orthodoxy.  Both are important, together.    

Are there beliefs and practices which are marks of authentic Christianity?  As Christianity evolves into different expressions, is it unfair of us to ask which of these expressions is most authentic - most Christlike in word and deed (orthodoxy and orthopraxy)?  In the end, all that really matters is Christlikeness.  I want to be considering what that Christlikeness looks like in the coming weeks, and what a community looks like which practices such Christlikeness.  I want to be a part of that kind of community - that righteous remnant.  I want to be in that number.  

Jubilee

“Do not take advantage of one another, but fear your God.  I am the Lord your God.”  (Leviticus 25:17)

You have probably read about the man who hoarded over 17,000 bottles of hand sanitizer in anticipation of heightened demand at the onset of the coronavirus.  When Amazon halted his attempt to sell bottles at elevated prices he was left wondering what to do with not only sanitizers but also other items he had purchased in bulk in anticipation of high demand.  He gave no indication that he felt sorry for his attempts to gouge buyers for the products he had purchased.  Aside from the fact that what he did at the micro-economic level is multiplied by others at the macro-level (futures investors, short sellers, hedge fund managers, etc.), I am left wondering how he can live with such an empty sense of conscience.

Admittedly, I have a hyper-developed sense of guilt which I have spent a lifetime trying to overcome.  Gratefully, I have made great strides in overcoming childhood shame and the neurotic guilt which can be so debilitating.  Still, there is a role for a healthy sense of guilt.  While there are many things I no longer feel guilty about, there are some things about which one should feel guilty - both sins of omission and commission -   hoarding much needed health supplies and squeezing unethical profits from them being but one example.  

The verse from Leviticus with which I open this blog encourages us not to take advantage of one another - a fitting instruction for Christian people, indeed, for anyone.  Like the Golden Rule, even non-Christians seem ready to see the good of this advice.  And in the present crisis of the coronavirus contagion, not taking advantage of one another - doing unto others as we would have them do unto us - seems like the better way forward.

The verse from Leviticus Chapter 25 is located in a body of instruction on the Year of Jubilee, a kind of super sabbath to be observed every fifty years.  The intent of the Jubilee year was to provide a great economic equalizer across society so that everyone could start afresh - wiping the slate clean so that people could have a new start.  Debts would be cancelled.  Slaves set free.  Property would be returned to ancestral owners.  The intent of Jubilee was justice, giving everyone a fair shake.  

Consider what might happen in semi-nomadic, agricultural society like that of ancient Israel.  In some places, some years, the crops do poorly.  The land owner has to borrow money, or perhaps sell some land, in order to make ends meet.  And if the misfortune continues, that land owner may have to sell everything, becoming an indentured servant, or slave, in order to provide for his family.  While this may seem an unlikely scenario, it does illustrate what can happen over the course of generations, especially if people “take advantage” of one another.

The present health crisis is creating an economic crisis as well.  Millions of workers are losing jobs.  Many small businesses will fail.  But some niche businesses will thrive.  Some corporations will lose millions while others will flourish.  Even now there are companies ready to hire thousands of workers.  The coronavirus is creating an unprecedented shift in our economy.  Many will suffer.  Many will thrive.  And I wonder if the Year of Jubilee can offer a model for how we might handle the sudden changes in our economy.

Can debts be forgiven?  What does it mean in the coming days for “slaves to be set free”?  After the dust settles, will there be an opportunity for people to make a fresh start, unencumbered by their losses?  What will it mean in the next years for us to “not take advantage of one another”?  What will justice look like?  

What if everyone started over again from scratch?  

I don’t see that happening, of course, but the Year of Jubilee is a good corrective on the view of capitalism that believes “win at all costs” is the only thing that matters.  Now is the time for a more humane approach, a more just solution to the human suffering that is now taking place for millions of people.  The Year of Jubilee reminds hand sanitizer hoarders not to engage in price gouging.  The Year of Jubilee judges Wall Street financiers who profit from national disasters.  The Year of Jubilee creates a society of people who will not take advantage of one another.  May we soon have reason to celebrate the end of the spread of the coronavirus so that we might shout, “Hallelujah!”  And as we deal with the long-term economic consequences of the outbreak of COVID-19 may we have reason to shout, “Jubilee!”   

How Do People Act During a Pandemic?

Her shopping cart was filled to overflowing as she eyed the shelves down the aisle of the Harris-Teeter.  The store itself was jammed with anxious customers responding to the first warnings that a pandemic was possibly in the early stages of spreading.  Already the packages of toilet paper had been wiped out and harried shoppers were deliberating wildly on what supplies they would need for the long haul.  Her gaze fell on the microwave popcorn and, as if her family’s survival depended on a three month supply, she swept all the boxes on the shelf into her burgeoning cart and made her satisfied way to the checkout line.

Have people gone nuts?  When the weather forecasts snow, sleet, or ice, the rule is you stock up on bread and milk - a well-documented fact.  Apparently when there is a threat of pandemic, the necessities are popcorn and toilet paper.  Who woulda thunk it?  

If there ever was any doubt that human beings are not rational, the current health crisis proves the point.  People are reacting emotionally with little attention to reason.  The media, health professionals, and government officials keeps alerting the public to pay attention to facts, not fear, but facts no longer seem to matter in the 21st Century.  Maybe it has always been true, that what we feel in our gut always overrules what we think in our head.

Truly, the present crisis has no precedent in recent history.  There are lessons to be drawn, however, from the deadliest pandemic in history - the influenza outbreak of 1918.  John Barry, a historian writing in the New York Times, describes how containment of the virus has already failed, as it did in 1918.  The challenge now is to comply with best practices - measures taken to suppress the spread.  Barry points to the failure of compliance as a leading cause for the number of deaths in 1918.  History teaches us that people are often quick to comply with best practices at the beginning of an outbreak, but that compliance diminishes quickly.  Washing hands, wearing masks, keeping our distance, are not practices for the short-term, but will be necessary for months if we are to be successful in halting the spread of the coronavirus.  There are pandemic deniers who will, of course, resist the call to comply with best practices.  We can only appeal to their desire for the public good assuming they can see past their selfishness.

Another lesson from 1918 provides us a different challenge.  How will we care for one another?  As a Christian, this question takes on great importance for me.  In 1918 there were numerous cases of people, self-quarantined, who starved to death because of the failure of society to care for one another.  David Brooks, conservative columnist, describes the societal shame that resulted  from that lack of caring following the pandemic a century ago.  How may we avoid that shame in this new crisis?

I can understand the desire of someone, like our Harris-Teeter shopper above, to do whatever they can imagine to protect and provide for her family.  However, how may we expand on that urge to care so that we reach out to the wider community?  I have a friend who reminded me years ago that until we care for children (and people) beyond our own flesh and blood we will continue to fall short of the kingdom ideals that Jesus proclaimed.  When the disciples wanted assurance that they were included in the flock of Jesus’ care, he reminded them that he had “other sheep” to gather into his fold (John 10:16).  

So, I would add one additional best practice - caring for one another.  This will be a challenge during dystopian times, of course.  After all, how does one practice social distancing while caring for each other?  But just because the practice may be difficult does not mean it is impossible.  In every community there will be opportunities to show care - 

for the poor

for health care workers

for those who provide essential services

for grocery store employees

for the elderly, living alone

We must not allow social distancing to lead to social alienation and neglect.  I would encourage everyone in every community to reach out to social service agencies to discover ways in which care for others might be expressed.  Or, call an older adult to make sure they’re okay.  Call a single mother to see if she needs groceries.  Love thy neighbor.  As Jesus also said, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another. . .” (John 13:35)  These are going to be difficult days.  May they be days we are able to remember without shame.   

The Emerging Christian Landscape

Phyllis Tickle’s The Great Emergence suggests we are in the midst of a global transition in the culture of Christianity, a transition that may last a century or more.  What will emerge as the predominant form has yet to be seen.  Tickle would agree with my simple faith statement that no matter what shape Christianity takes, God will have a people, even if only a remnant.

There will remain vestiges of what has been.  Roman Catholicism, with its fierce resistance to change, will continue to appeal to some.  Eastern Orthodoxy and its mystical liturgy has shown a stubborn ability to survive.  Protestant denominationalism will continue to be manifested in a multiplicity of ways, but perhaps reduced of much institutional baggage.  These major historical religious movements will each make accommodations in order to survive, but something new will emerge to enliven the church, and what that emergence will look like is still a question.

Perhaps there will not be one dominant form and, like Protestantism, there will be a variety of Christian communities.  The possibilities are many.  We can already observe many examples of movements that have arisen in this generation which are dramatically different from what we might call traditional Christian institutions.  

I have previously mentioned the emergence of a “new monasticism,” in which small groups of like-minded individuals and families covenant to live in proximity to each other, often in under-served neighborhoods, whether rural or urban, in order to be a Christian witness of discipleship and service within those communities.  Shane Claiborne, leader of The Simple Way community in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, is a nationally known leader in this movement.  I suspect that persons who are attracted to this way of Christian living will be a minority, but that new monasticism will play an important role as a remnant in providing an alternative vision of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus, even as old order monasticism did the same a millennium ago.  

One cannot fail to recognize the emergence of mega-churches in the last several decades, churches which are independent of denominations, becoming kingdoms unto themselves.  Drawing thousands of followers, often centered on the charismatic personality of one leader, these churches often have a “mother” church that gives birth to several satellites, served either by assistant pastor-preachers who share the leader’s theological DNA, or the satellite locations beam in the leader’s teachings by way of live-broadcast video signal.  I have found it hard to categorize the theological inclination of these churches.  While they all seem to arise from Protestant roots, their ethos seems more centered in a cult of personality than in theological convictions.  Elevation Church, led by Steven Furtick, whose home-base is Charlotte, North Carolina is but one example.

And one cannot discount the impact of global Christian movements.  

* The emergence of Christian base communities in Latin America which began in the later part of the 20th Century among Catholic-leaning poor people.

* The Taize community in France which has given rise to a renewed spirituality among tens of thousands of young adults who regularly make pilgrimage to Taize. 

* The rapid growth of the church among African nations may result in the most dominant form of Christianity over the next five hundred years.  We have yet to determine what that impact might be.

Bob Dylan once sang, "The times, they are a changin'." As we live in this time of transition we may feel some anxiety about what is yet to come, as well as grief over what is being lost.  However, we should take heart that there is considerable spiritual ferment in the works.  Something new is taking shape.  Christianity is reforming once again.  In the midst of a troubled world, God will have a people who will continue to witness to Jesus Christ and the kingdom he proclaimed until that day when God’s ultimate purpose is fulfilled.  And, when the saints go marching in, I want to be in that number.