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!