The image of journeying down a road has long been an important one in prose, poetry, music, and film. The meaning of the metaphor, of course changes over time and circumstance, but we seem to return to it, perhaps because it is such a common experience. Roads, in particular, are built with the express purpose of making it easier for us to get from one place to another. It is no wonder that the story of the Disciples meeting the resurrected Jesus on the Road to Emmaeus is such a powerful one for us.
One way we imagine roads is as a symbol of our attempt to discover something, particularly something about ourselves. Jack Kerouac's, On the Road comes to mind. Under this metaphor, the destination fades in importance and it is the trip itself that becomes most valuable.
Long before Kerouac came along, though, the Church had encouraged pilgrimages. While Christians have holy sites that we encourage people to go to, there is no one place that is required. Some go to Jerusalem or Rome, others head to Iona, the Taize community in France, or a hundred other places around the world. It is the idea of taking extended periods of time out of our lives to reflect and learn about ourselves and our relationship with God that becomes most important, not the destination.
When it became clear that many would not be able to make such a pilgrimage, we adopted the labyrinth as an alternative. In a labyrinth, unlike a maze, there is only one path that you follow to the center. There is no need for decision making, and there is no great city waiting at the end, so the pilgrim has nothing to focus upon other than making the journey, which becomes more of a journey into the soul than a physical event.
There is a second way in which the road is used, however, one that contrasts significantly with this one: it is the idea of the road as the place we go to get away from something. When someone says, "It's time to hit the road." they mean that they have stayed too long. The reference may be to a relationship that has come to an end, or to a life that has become complacent. We may hit the road when we are angry, frustrated, or feel trapped. When one takes to the road in this meaning, it quite often is a literal leaving town, but not always.
It is this second image of the road that seems to be behind the story of the Emmaeus road. After the empty tomb is found in Luke, the women meet angels who tell them that Jesus is alive. They run to the apostles and repeat the story. However, the apostles have trouble believing their tale.
Thus, we find two disciples on the road. Suddenly Jesus appears to them, though not in a way they recognize. When he appears to not know what has happened in Jerusalem, they make clear that they believe the body has been stolen. They also tell their walking companion that they had thought Jesus would restore Israel--i.e., lead a rebellion to overthrow the Romans. With his death, though, comes despair. And so, they apparently abandon this failed venture and hit the road.
However, Jesus takes this journey and redirects it from 'hitting the road' to a 'journey of discovery.' He teaches them about himself and reveals himself in the bread. In the end, they never make it to Emmaeus, but return to Jerusalem to tell the story of their encounter.
At this point, it is probably important to mention that archeologists have never positively identified the location of Emmaeus. Luke tells us it was about seven miles from Jerusalem, but does not say which direction. Today, there are several sites that have been identified as possibly being Emmaeus, but not definitively. In a certain sense then, the trip's destination really is not the point.
There is one more road metaphor worth mentioning here, that of coming to the end of a road. We use that image when we want to talk about something running out of energy or steam. People talk about a romance coming to the end of the road, but this metaphor is just as easily used to talk about a failing business venture such as a restaurant or a plan that has failed to produce the desired results.
For almost ten years, the United States has hunted Osama bin Laden. It was part of the strategy had led us into two wars, increased our security budgets exponentially, and brought many attempts to curb freedoms in America in the name of security. This kill, however, was long seen as an important step towards making the U.S. safe from terrorists.
Did it? Do you feel safer now?
The reality is that little changed last week when we raided that compound. Don't get me wrong. I wanted to see justice done for 9/11. I'm not sure that is what we got exactly, but I did not think bin Laden should go unpunished, just that a trial would have been better. That was not to be, apparently.
But I maintain that little changed. We are still in two wars--and no, we cannot just go home now after tearing up two countries for all these years--and al Qaeda is still out there too. And declaring plans to retaliate. No one is safer.
The fact is, we are at the end of the road. We have pursued this policy of righteous indignation since 2001, and there is no sign of it working yet. And why is that?
For one thing, it is because we have chosen to hide behind labels of evil and insane to justify any action we take towards the perpetrators without regard for the reasons they might have had for what they did. We never stopped to ask why they hated us so much because we assumed our complete innocence.
Don't get me wrong. The 9/11 acts were never justified. They were wrong pure and simple. But when people organize and spend millions to plot acts of terror like the ones of that day, there is clearly some sense of desperation involved. And for every extremist willing to blow him or her self up, there are a hundred or a thousand other people just as angry, but more restrained, feeling the same anger. And so far, we have not explored why.
We never mention the economic poverty, the propped up dictators, the exploitation of their natural resources. We never mention the way they see us benefiting from their cheap labor or our failure to respond to human rights violations by their governments. We never mention being the ones who buy the drugs that are grown instead of food plants.
At some point we have to stop and ask ourselves why they hate us so much. And we never have asked it in part because we have some pretty good ideas about what the answers would be. So now we find ourselves down this road which is ending right before us. It should never have been this long.
For Christians at least, this does not have to be a dead end. The other road has always been there for us to take should we choose to do so. It is a lot less traveled, and will require more work on our part to traverse. But it is not a road of death. It is the road that Jesus walks and calls us to walk as well, the road of discovery we so desperately need to walk if we ever wish to find reconciliation and life.
Which way are you going? Which road will you be on?
Monday, May 9, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
Young People in Church?
This moment is being given to one Tamie Fields Harkins a blogger at owlrainfeathers.blogspot.com. In a posting last November, she had this to say. i can't say it better.
When I was an Episcopal chaplain--for four years--all the time people in the church would ask me, "Why don't young people come to church?" or "How do we get young people to come to church?" I have some suggestions now, so listen up.
Here is a step-by-step plan for how to get more young people into the church:
1. Be genuine. Do not under any circumstances try to be trendy or hip, if you are not already intrinsically trendy or hip. If you are a 90-year-old woman who enjoys crocheting and listens to Beethoven, by God be proud of it.
2. Stop pretending you have a rock band.
3. Stop arguing about whether gay people are okay, fully human, or whatever else. Seriously. Stop it.
4. Stop arguing about whether women are okay, fully human, or are capable of being in a position of leadership.
5. Stop looking for the "objective truth" in Scripture.
6. Start looking for the beautiful truth in Scripture.
7. Actually read the Scriptures. If you are Episcopalian, go buy a Bible and read it. Start in Genesis, it's pretty cool. You can skip some of the other boring parts in the Bible. Remember though that almost every book of the Bible has some really funky stuff in it. Remember to keep #5 and #6 in mind though. If you are evangelical, you may need to stop reading the Bible for about 10 years. Don't worry: during those ten years you can work on putting these other steps into practice.
8. Start worrying about extreme poverty, violence against women, racism, consumerism, and the rate at which children are dying worldwide of preventable, treatable diseases. Put all the energy you formerly spent worrying about the legit-ness of gay people into figuring out ways to do some good in these areas.
9. Do not shy away from lighting candles, silence, incense, laughter, really good food, and extraordinary music. By "extraordinary music" I mean genuine music. Soulful music. Well-written, well-composed music. Original music. Four-part harmony music. Funky retro organ music. Hymns. Taize chants. Bluegrass. Steel guitar. Humming. Gospel. We are the church; we have a uber-rich history of amazing music. Remember this.
10. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
11. Learn how to sit with people who are dying.
12. Feast as much as possible. Cardboard communion wafers are a feast in symbol only. Humans can not live on symbols alone. Remember this.
13. Notice visitors, smile genuinely at them, include them in conversations, but do not overwhelm them.
14. Be vulnerable.
15. Stop worrying about getting young people into the church. Stop worrying about marketing strategies. Take a deep breath. If there is a God, that God isn't going to die even if there are no more Christians at all.
16. Figure out who is suffering in your community. Go be with them.
17. Remind yourself that you don't have to take God to anyone. God is already with everyone. So, rather than taking the approach that you need to take the truth out to people who need it, adopt the approach that you need to go find the truth that others have and you are missing. Go be evangelized.
18. Put some time and care and energy into creating a beautiful space for worship and being-together. But shy away from building campaigns, parking lot expansions, and what-have-you.
19. Make some part of the church building accessible for people to pray in 24/7. Put some blankets there too, in case someone has nowhere else to go for the night.
20. Listen to God (to Wisdom, to Love) more than you speak your opinions.
This is a fool-proof plan. If you do it, I guarantee that you will attract young people to your church. And lots of other kinds of people too. The end.
When I was an Episcopal chaplain--for four years--all the time people in the church would ask me, "Why don't young people come to church?" or "How do we get young people to come to church?" I have some suggestions now, so listen up.
Here is a step-by-step plan for how to get more young people into the church:
1. Be genuine. Do not under any circumstances try to be trendy or hip, if you are not already intrinsically trendy or hip. If you are a 90-year-old woman who enjoys crocheting and listens to Beethoven, by God be proud of it.
2. Stop pretending you have a rock band.
3. Stop arguing about whether gay people are okay, fully human, or whatever else. Seriously. Stop it.
4. Stop arguing about whether women are okay, fully human, or are capable of being in a position of leadership.
5. Stop looking for the "objective truth" in Scripture.
6. Start looking for the beautiful truth in Scripture.
7. Actually read the Scriptures. If you are Episcopalian, go buy a Bible and read it. Start in Genesis, it's pretty cool. You can skip some of the other boring parts in the Bible. Remember though that almost every book of the Bible has some really funky stuff in it. Remember to keep #5 and #6 in mind though. If you are evangelical, you may need to stop reading the Bible for about 10 years. Don't worry: during those ten years you can work on putting these other steps into practice.
8. Start worrying about extreme poverty, violence against women, racism, consumerism, and the rate at which children are dying worldwide of preventable, treatable diseases. Put all the energy you formerly spent worrying about the legit-ness of gay people into figuring out ways to do some good in these areas.
9. Do not shy away from lighting candles, silence, incense, laughter, really good food, and extraordinary music. By "extraordinary music" I mean genuine music. Soulful music. Well-written, well-composed music. Original music. Four-part harmony music. Funky retro organ music. Hymns. Taize chants. Bluegrass. Steel guitar. Humming. Gospel. We are the church; we have a uber-rich history of amazing music. Remember this.
10. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
11. Learn how to sit with people who are dying.
12. Feast as much as possible. Cardboard communion wafers are a feast in symbol only. Humans can not live on symbols alone. Remember this.
13. Notice visitors, smile genuinely at them, include them in conversations, but do not overwhelm them.
14. Be vulnerable.
15. Stop worrying about getting young people into the church. Stop worrying about marketing strategies. Take a deep breath. If there is a God, that God isn't going to die even if there are no more Christians at all.
16. Figure out who is suffering in your community. Go be with them.
17. Remind yourself that you don't have to take God to anyone. God is already with everyone. So, rather than taking the approach that you need to take the truth out to people who need it, adopt the approach that you need to go find the truth that others have and you are missing. Go be evangelized.
18. Put some time and care and energy into creating a beautiful space for worship and being-together. But shy away from building campaigns, parking lot expansions, and what-have-you.
19. Make some part of the church building accessible for people to pray in 24/7. Put some blankets there too, in case someone has nowhere else to go for the night.
20. Listen to God (to Wisdom, to Love) more than you speak your opinions.
This is a fool-proof plan. If you do it, I guarantee that you will attract young people to your church. And lots of other kinds of people too. The end.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Does Sarcasm Become Jesus?
Being as I am wholly associated with a denomination that can be incredibly unforgiving of rudeness (or of choosing the wrong fork at dinner), the title question seems to be a no-brainer. Surely Jesus would never want to condone a form of humor that calls attention to the foibles of its audience. Why even ask the question? Except....
Like many preachers, I began last week's sermon by reading the lessons. For those of you in non-lectionary churches, you need to know that we have assigned sets of lessons for each week, last week being the Sixth Sunday after Epiphany. The value of this is that we do not get to pass over those biblical passages that are difficult for us. Sooner or later, they come around, and we are forced to wrestle with the difficult areas of our own understanding.
Last week was one of those weeks. The passage was Matthew 5:21-37. Besides including the stuff about looking at women with lust in our hearts, there is that piece, smack in the middle of the reading, about cutting out your eye or cutting off your hand if it causes you to sin.
Now, conservative evangelicals love this passage. It actually uses the words lust, adultery, sin, and hell. What could be better? Just take out that floppy Bible to wave around and go to town! Today is the day for that altar call you wanted to have to make sure everyone gets saved from the depravity of lust leading them to hell. Never mind the fact that the passage has nothing to do with being saved, and the hell reference is for not being reconciled with your brother or sister.
Liberals do everything in their power to say that Jesus' words were not to be take literally. Of course Jesus does not want you to cut off your hand. No, Jesus is merely trying to point out how important this is. And, by the way, in this version, the whole passage is really about how obedience to God is impossible without God's unearned grace, which, we receive in baptism.
Did you notice how both sides just ended up at essentially the same place? Whether it is an altar call or a declaration of the saving effects of baptism, they have diverted from Jesus' point, which was about a faithful life.
Just prior to this passage, Jesus was talking about how he came not to abolish the law but to fulfill it. What we have here is his take on a few of the laws and what they were intended to do. It's not enough to not commit murder; you need to treat your brother and sister well and repair any enmity between you when it occurs. It is not enough to tell the truth; you should keep any vows you make (including wedding vows), and you should be so trustworthy that you do not need to swear oaths because people will know that you will do what you say you will do.
And in between those two is the one about not lusting in your heart, followed by the cutting of body parts. Here's the thing. Most of the time, people who refer to the eye and hand passage remove it from the lust passage (Let's face it; either one of those gives you plenty to work with, right?). But they really should be looked at together. Why would Jesus (or at least Matthew) put them back to back?
Have you ever really thought about what it means to say "If your eye causes you to sin..." Really? Your eye causes you to sin. Your eye or your hand is some independent agent committing atrocities apart from the rest of you? I don't think so!
Don't try telling the judge "My hand stole the money, not me." Does Jesus suddenly sound a bit sarcastic? You betcha!
Surely at least part of Jesus' point was to remind us that we have agency over what our various body parts do (apart from an occasional unplanned belch, or...well, you get the idea!). Your hand does not cause you to sin. If anything, you cause your hand to sin. The eye does not commit lust in your heart. It sees the object of lust, and you take it from there.
In other words, take some responsibility for what you do, and begin to take steps to change your life. Now, the liberal theologians can come in and remind us of Paul's understanding of sin and grace. And the conservatives can remind us that what we do has real consequences (I'll leave the bumpy road to a theology of hell for another day.). In the meantime, I'll take Jesus' words to remind me that the letter of the law is not even hardly the point.
Note: All of you trying to get the 10 commandments placed on the courtroom walls, please stop it. You are reinforcing the opposite of what Jesus tried to teach. And the fact that you don't even realize it should tell you to rethink this one.
And me? Well, I have reconciled with an old friend already this week, so I am trying my best to live Jesus' words. But mostly, I am laughing at Jesus' joke. Now, if my mouth would just stop eating fattening foods....
Like many preachers, I began last week's sermon by reading the lessons. For those of you in non-lectionary churches, you need to know that we have assigned sets of lessons for each week, last week being the Sixth Sunday after Epiphany. The value of this is that we do not get to pass over those biblical passages that are difficult for us. Sooner or later, they come around, and we are forced to wrestle with the difficult areas of our own understanding.
Last week was one of those weeks. The passage was Matthew 5:21-37. Besides including the stuff about looking at women with lust in our hearts, there is that piece, smack in the middle of the reading, about cutting out your eye or cutting off your hand if it causes you to sin.
Now, conservative evangelicals love this passage. It actually uses the words lust, adultery, sin, and hell. What could be better? Just take out that floppy Bible to wave around and go to town! Today is the day for that altar call you wanted to have to make sure everyone gets saved from the depravity of lust leading them to hell. Never mind the fact that the passage has nothing to do with being saved, and the hell reference is for not being reconciled with your brother or sister.
Liberals do everything in their power to say that Jesus' words were not to be take literally. Of course Jesus does not want you to cut off your hand. No, Jesus is merely trying to point out how important this is. And, by the way, in this version, the whole passage is really about how obedience to God is impossible without God's unearned grace, which, we receive in baptism.
Did you notice how both sides just ended up at essentially the same place? Whether it is an altar call or a declaration of the saving effects of baptism, they have diverted from Jesus' point, which was about a faithful life.
Just prior to this passage, Jesus was talking about how he came not to abolish the law but to fulfill it. What we have here is his take on a few of the laws and what they were intended to do. It's not enough to not commit murder; you need to treat your brother and sister well and repair any enmity between you when it occurs. It is not enough to tell the truth; you should keep any vows you make (including wedding vows), and you should be so trustworthy that you do not need to swear oaths because people will know that you will do what you say you will do.
And in between those two is the one about not lusting in your heart, followed by the cutting of body parts. Here's the thing. Most of the time, people who refer to the eye and hand passage remove it from the lust passage (Let's face it; either one of those gives you plenty to work with, right?). But they really should be looked at together. Why would Jesus (or at least Matthew) put them back to back?
Have you ever really thought about what it means to say "If your eye causes you to sin..." Really? Your eye causes you to sin. Your eye or your hand is some independent agent committing atrocities apart from the rest of you? I don't think so!
Don't try telling the judge "My hand stole the money, not me." Does Jesus suddenly sound a bit sarcastic? You betcha!
Surely at least part of Jesus' point was to remind us that we have agency over what our various body parts do (apart from an occasional unplanned belch, or...well, you get the idea!). Your hand does not cause you to sin. If anything, you cause your hand to sin. The eye does not commit lust in your heart. It sees the object of lust, and you take it from there.
In other words, take some responsibility for what you do, and begin to take steps to change your life. Now, the liberal theologians can come in and remind us of Paul's understanding of sin and grace. And the conservatives can remind us that what we do has real consequences (I'll leave the bumpy road to a theology of hell for another day.). In the meantime, I'll take Jesus' words to remind me that the letter of the law is not even hardly the point.
Note: All of you trying to get the 10 commandments placed on the courtroom walls, please stop it. You are reinforcing the opposite of what Jesus tried to teach. And the fact that you don't even realize it should tell you to rethink this one.
And me? Well, I have reconciled with an old friend already this week, so I am trying my best to live Jesus' words. But mostly, I am laughing at Jesus' joke. Now, if my mouth would just stop eating fattening foods....
Monday, January 10, 2011
Tucson, Ourselves, and Violence
Yes, I have been away a long time. Just have not much felt like writing. That is coming to an end, and I will return soon with much more.
In the meantime, here is something that I penned in response to a challenge from Diana Butler Bass, adapted from my sermon yesterday. I have included her words because they provide the context.
With remarkable clarity, Dianna Butler Bass, Church historian and frequent Internet writer summed up the situation surrounding the violence in Tucson on Saturday. Within hours, she posted this note:
“The Sunday after Martin Luther King was assassinated in 1968, my husband's family attended their Presbyterian church. They went with heavy hearts, expecting the pastor to help make sense of the tragedy. The minister rose to preach. The congregation held its breath. But he said nothing of the events in Memphis. He preached as if nothing had happened.
“My husband's family left church that day disappointed; eventually, they left that church altogether.
“This Sunday, many Americans will go to church. A sizeable number of those people may be hoping to hear something that helps them make sense of the shooting of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords and the others who had gathered at her sidewalk townhall in Tucson. Some pastors may note the event in prayer and some may say something during announcements or add a sentence to their sermons. But others might say nothing, sticking instead to prepared texts and liturgies. Many will eschew speaking of politics.
“That would be a mistake.
“Much of American public commentary takes place on television, via the Internet, and through social networks. We already know what form the analysis of the assassination attempt will be. Everyone will say what a tragedy it is. Then commentators will take sides. Those on the left will blame the Tea Party's violent rhetoric and "Second Amendment solutions." Those on the right will blame irresponsible individuals and Socialism. Progressives will call for more gun control; conservatives will say more people should carry guns. Everyone will have some sort of spin that benefits their party, their platform, and their policies.
“But who will speak of the soul?
“Since President Obama has taken office, many ministers have told me that they have feared addressing public issues from the pulpit lest "someone get hurt." Well, someone is hurt--and people have died--most likely because bitterly partisan lies have filled the air and most certainly because some unhinged individual killed people.
“At their best, American pulpits are not about taking sides and blaming. Those pulpits should be places to reflect on theology and life, on the Word and our words. I hope that sermons tomorrow will go beyond expressions of sympathy or calls for civility and niceness. Right now, we need some sustained spiritual reflection on how badly we have behaved in recent years as Americans--how much we've allowed fear to motivate our politics, how cruel we've allowed our discourse to become, how little we've listened, how much we've dehumanized public servants, how much we hate.
“Sunday January 9 is the day on which many Christians celebrate the Baptism of Jesus: "When Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, 'This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.'" Jesus' baptism in water symbolizes life, the newness that comes of cleansing. But there is a darker symbol of baptism in American history: that of blood. In 1862, Episcopal bishop Stephen Elliot of Georgia said, "All nations which come into existence . . . must be born amid the storm of revolution and must win their way to a place in history through the baptism of blood." Baptism as water? Baptism as blood? Baptism accompanied by a dove or baptism accompanied by the storm of revolution?
“American Christianity is deeply conflicted, caught between two powerful symbols of baptism, symbols that haunt our political sub-consciousness. To which baptism are we called? Which baptism does the world most need today? Which baptism truly heals? Do we need the water of God, or the blood of a nine-year old laying on a street in Tucson? The answer is profoundly and simply obvious. We need redemption gushing from the rivers of God's love, not that of blood-soaked sidewalks.
“If we don't speak for the soul, our silence will surely aid evil.”
(http://blog.beliefnet.com/christianityfortherestofus/2011/01/congresswoman-gabrielle-giffords-speaking-for-the-soul.html)
So let’s speak for the soul today. Let’s be reminded that Jesus’ life and ministry were all about not doing things the normal way. Let’s remember that, when the people were looking for a powerful military hero as the Messiah, one who would bring that baptism of blood, John and Jesus held to a different way of change, one that started within and spread out. Let’s remember that violence—even the violence of hate-filled speech—has never been the way of the Christ.
In just a few minutes, we will recite the words of our Baptismal covenant. Now, the Baptismal Covenant in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer was unique in the Anglican Communion when it came out. Back in the 1970s, the Episcopal Church was still referred to by many as the Republican Party at prayer. We had more members in Congress than any other religious group at the time, and, despite being 3% of the population then, we had produced more presidents. We had the highest level of education and income in the land.
What made our Baptismal Covenant suddenly unique from those of the rest of the Church—and not just the rest of Anglicanism, by the way—was our addition of five questions in the end that were not about what we believed but about how we intended to live out the Christian faith.
People outside of faith communities often think that liturgy is just the repetition of words for some kind of comfort that has little or no meaning. Nothing could be further from the truth. Liturgy done well shapes meaning and understanding in our lives, gives context and purpose to our behavior.
Bishop Curry of the Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina believes, and, upon reflection, I have come to agree with him, that those five questions about our behavior have been transformative, not only for individuals in the Episcopal Church, but for our Church as a whole. Preachers quote them all the time. “Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?” “Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?” “Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?” “Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?” “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” And we as people respond, “I will, with God’s help.”
If Bishop Curry is right, the repetition of those vows, the teaching of them, and preaching about them have changed us. And those questions are largely behind what has put us at odds with much of the rest of Anglicanism. Those words have pushed us from merely thinking about what we believe to attempting to live what we believe.
When I tell students—even students who have been raised in the Episcopal Church—the line about us being the Republican Party at prayer, they are shocked. That Church is not the Church they know. Even those who have been raised in fairly conservative Episcopal churches wonder how that appellation could have ever been applied to what is now seen as the left wing of Anglicanism and of American Christianity. It’s not that conservative thought has disappeared by any means. But we have become a much broader church, open to exploring a lot of new ideas of what it means to live our faith.
So what are we to do now? We celebrate and remember our baptism. In January, the first month of the year, we also frequently on who we are and what changes we wish to make.
Now, Church critics are right if that Covenant ever becomes merely comfortable words for us. If we are not the Republican Party at prayer, then we are not the Democratic Party at prayer either. Or the conservatives or progressives or the Tea Party or the birthers. We are the body of Christ, empowered by the Holy Spirit to bring a different way of living into the world.
And, in the wake of yesterday’s tragedy, that means refusing to accept a place in business as usual, upholding one set of talking head commentators as it blasts another set for what is exactly the same behavior. It means turning off the 24 hour news media, that—have you noticed—almost never broadcasts news shows anymore.
Most of all, it means seeing one another, including those we have come to see as our enemies, as human beings, even when they cannot see us in the same way. Jesus never said do unto others as they do unto you. He said do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It means refusing to accept soundbite theology as being any way for Christians to think or express ourselves. And it means the renunciation of violence as a destructive rather than constructive force for change—and I mean the language of violence in which we destroy our opponents with our arguments.
We Americans are amazing in our desire to see the Israelis and the Palestinians sit down and talk through a settlement rather than go to war. We said the same thing in South Africa, in Northern Ireland, in other global hotspots. Yet our language towards one another is death and destruction. And, occasionally, it erupts in actual violence.
The Unibomber. The Oklahoma City massacre. The recent Post Office bombings in Maryland. And now, the death of a nine-year-old girl and five others, along with a Congresswoman fighting for her life. That language eats at our souls. Is that who we Christian Americans really want to be?
Notice the order I place those words. Christian Americans, not the other way around. In so doing, I remind us of the proper order of those two commitments. Peter reminds us in the tenth chapter of the book of Acts that God shows no partiality based on nationality or class, and calls us to do the same. Let us vow to make the language of our mouths reflect the language of our Savior.
So we begin again today. With the words of the Baptismal Covenant. With the commitment to changed lives. With not just the denunciation of violence but the renunciation of it. With our vow to live differently, according to the will of God.
And then, slowly, surely, we might begin to reclaim our souls. Then we can truly transform this country from hatred. Then we can see the Shalom that God calls us to as we live out the Kingdom of God. Then we will understand, finally, the meaning of death and resurrection that is our baptism. Let us begin.
In the meantime, here is something that I penned in response to a challenge from Diana Butler Bass, adapted from my sermon yesterday. I have included her words because they provide the context.
With remarkable clarity, Dianna Butler Bass, Church historian and frequent Internet writer summed up the situation surrounding the violence in Tucson on Saturday. Within hours, she posted this note:
“The Sunday after Martin Luther King was assassinated in 1968, my husband's family attended their Presbyterian church. They went with heavy hearts, expecting the pastor to help make sense of the tragedy. The minister rose to preach. The congregation held its breath. But he said nothing of the events in Memphis. He preached as if nothing had happened.
“My husband's family left church that day disappointed; eventually, they left that church altogether.
“This Sunday, many Americans will go to church. A sizeable number of those people may be hoping to hear something that helps them make sense of the shooting of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords and the others who had gathered at her sidewalk townhall in Tucson. Some pastors may note the event in prayer and some may say something during announcements or add a sentence to their sermons. But others might say nothing, sticking instead to prepared texts and liturgies. Many will eschew speaking of politics.
“That would be a mistake.
“Much of American public commentary takes place on television, via the Internet, and through social networks. We already know what form the analysis of the assassination attempt will be. Everyone will say what a tragedy it is. Then commentators will take sides. Those on the left will blame the Tea Party's violent rhetoric and "Second Amendment solutions." Those on the right will blame irresponsible individuals and Socialism. Progressives will call for more gun control; conservatives will say more people should carry guns. Everyone will have some sort of spin that benefits their party, their platform, and their policies.
“But who will speak of the soul?
“Since President Obama has taken office, many ministers have told me that they have feared addressing public issues from the pulpit lest "someone get hurt." Well, someone is hurt--and people have died--most likely because bitterly partisan lies have filled the air and most certainly because some unhinged individual killed people.
“At their best, American pulpits are not about taking sides and blaming. Those pulpits should be places to reflect on theology and life, on the Word and our words. I hope that sermons tomorrow will go beyond expressions of sympathy or calls for civility and niceness. Right now, we need some sustained spiritual reflection on how badly we have behaved in recent years as Americans--how much we've allowed fear to motivate our politics, how cruel we've allowed our discourse to become, how little we've listened, how much we've dehumanized public servants, how much we hate.
“Sunday January 9 is the day on which many Christians celebrate the Baptism of Jesus: "When Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, 'This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.'" Jesus' baptism in water symbolizes life, the newness that comes of cleansing. But there is a darker symbol of baptism in American history: that of blood. In 1862, Episcopal bishop Stephen Elliot of Georgia said, "All nations which come into existence . . . must be born amid the storm of revolution and must win their way to a place in history through the baptism of blood." Baptism as water? Baptism as blood? Baptism accompanied by a dove or baptism accompanied by the storm of revolution?
“American Christianity is deeply conflicted, caught between two powerful symbols of baptism, symbols that haunt our political sub-consciousness. To which baptism are we called? Which baptism does the world most need today? Which baptism truly heals? Do we need the water of God, or the blood of a nine-year old laying on a street in Tucson? The answer is profoundly and simply obvious. We need redemption gushing from the rivers of God's love, not that of blood-soaked sidewalks.
“If we don't speak for the soul, our silence will surely aid evil.”
(http://blog.beliefnet.com/christianityfortherestofus/2011/01/congresswoman-gabrielle-giffords-speaking-for-the-soul.html)
So let’s speak for the soul today. Let’s be reminded that Jesus’ life and ministry were all about not doing things the normal way. Let’s remember that, when the people were looking for a powerful military hero as the Messiah, one who would bring that baptism of blood, John and Jesus held to a different way of change, one that started within and spread out. Let’s remember that violence—even the violence of hate-filled speech—has never been the way of the Christ.
In just a few minutes, we will recite the words of our Baptismal covenant. Now, the Baptismal Covenant in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer was unique in the Anglican Communion when it came out. Back in the 1970s, the Episcopal Church was still referred to by many as the Republican Party at prayer. We had more members in Congress than any other religious group at the time, and, despite being 3% of the population then, we had produced more presidents. We had the highest level of education and income in the land.
What made our Baptismal Covenant suddenly unique from those of the rest of the Church—and not just the rest of Anglicanism, by the way—was our addition of five questions in the end that were not about what we believed but about how we intended to live out the Christian faith.
People outside of faith communities often think that liturgy is just the repetition of words for some kind of comfort that has little or no meaning. Nothing could be further from the truth. Liturgy done well shapes meaning and understanding in our lives, gives context and purpose to our behavior.
Bishop Curry of the Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina believes, and, upon reflection, I have come to agree with him, that those five questions about our behavior have been transformative, not only for individuals in the Episcopal Church, but for our Church as a whole. Preachers quote them all the time. “Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?” “Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?” “Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?” “Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?” “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” And we as people respond, “I will, with God’s help.”
If Bishop Curry is right, the repetition of those vows, the teaching of them, and preaching about them have changed us. And those questions are largely behind what has put us at odds with much of the rest of Anglicanism. Those words have pushed us from merely thinking about what we believe to attempting to live what we believe.
When I tell students—even students who have been raised in the Episcopal Church—the line about us being the Republican Party at prayer, they are shocked. That Church is not the Church they know. Even those who have been raised in fairly conservative Episcopal churches wonder how that appellation could have ever been applied to what is now seen as the left wing of Anglicanism and of American Christianity. It’s not that conservative thought has disappeared by any means. But we have become a much broader church, open to exploring a lot of new ideas of what it means to live our faith.
So what are we to do now? We celebrate and remember our baptism. In January, the first month of the year, we also frequently on who we are and what changes we wish to make.
Now, Church critics are right if that Covenant ever becomes merely comfortable words for us. If we are not the Republican Party at prayer, then we are not the Democratic Party at prayer either. Or the conservatives or progressives or the Tea Party or the birthers. We are the body of Christ, empowered by the Holy Spirit to bring a different way of living into the world.
And, in the wake of yesterday’s tragedy, that means refusing to accept a place in business as usual, upholding one set of talking head commentators as it blasts another set for what is exactly the same behavior. It means turning off the 24 hour news media, that—have you noticed—almost never broadcasts news shows anymore.
Most of all, it means seeing one another, including those we have come to see as our enemies, as human beings, even when they cannot see us in the same way. Jesus never said do unto others as they do unto you. He said do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It means refusing to accept soundbite theology as being any way for Christians to think or express ourselves. And it means the renunciation of violence as a destructive rather than constructive force for change—and I mean the language of violence in which we destroy our opponents with our arguments.
We Americans are amazing in our desire to see the Israelis and the Palestinians sit down and talk through a settlement rather than go to war. We said the same thing in South Africa, in Northern Ireland, in other global hotspots. Yet our language towards one another is death and destruction. And, occasionally, it erupts in actual violence.
The Unibomber. The Oklahoma City massacre. The recent Post Office bombings in Maryland. And now, the death of a nine-year-old girl and five others, along with a Congresswoman fighting for her life. That language eats at our souls. Is that who we Christian Americans really want to be?
Notice the order I place those words. Christian Americans, not the other way around. In so doing, I remind us of the proper order of those two commitments. Peter reminds us in the tenth chapter of the book of Acts that God shows no partiality based on nationality or class, and calls us to do the same. Let us vow to make the language of our mouths reflect the language of our Savior.
So we begin again today. With the words of the Baptismal Covenant. With the commitment to changed lives. With not just the denunciation of violence but the renunciation of it. With our vow to live differently, according to the will of God.
And then, slowly, surely, we might begin to reclaim our souls. Then we can truly transform this country from hatred. Then we can see the Shalom that God calls us to as we live out the Kingdom of God. Then we will understand, finally, the meaning of death and resurrection that is our baptism. Let us begin.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Radical Welcome for Lefties
I've done something with worship for Epiphany that I have never done before. For five weeks, we are using the sermon time to discuss a book that we are all reading. I am doing this at our morning service and also in the evening with the students.
Okay, I know what you are thinking; he's discovered a way to get out of preaching for five weeks. Actually, it was a sacrifice, especially the first week, where the gospel lesson was the wedding in Cana. The NRSV has a particularly blunt translation of the passage that refers to the guests getting drunk on the wine, and it would have been interesting to see what I would do with that with my students.
So what book inspired me to do this? The title is Radical Welcome, and it is written by Stephanie Spellers, an Episcopal priest who studied 8 congregations that were reaching out beyond their traditional constituencies to welcome the Other in their midst. Sometime back, my bishop sent a copy to each of his clergy and asked us to read it. Like many things, it sat on my desk, but it never left it and eventually I picked the book up and realized it had something to say to us.
Now, my small congregation is largely made up of people who do not feel particularly welcome at other churches for various reasons, mostly because they are too left thinking, too gay, too young, too--well, you get the idea. They would certainly like to see other congregations read this book too because they all know what it is like not to feel welcome. They may get their wish; the bishop is holding workshops on the book, has invited the author to come this year, and is urging every parish to read it. He did this at the recent diocesan convention in his address, so he is serious about it. We just happened to jump the gun on him by a week without knowing it.
What have we learned so far? First of all, that churches that are radically welcoming have to make themselves vulnerable because welcoming on this scale is not assimilation. We are not trying to grow the church by bringing in a bunch of people who look like us or who we reprogram to make them act like us. Radical welcoming means opening ourselves up to the possibility that it is we who will be changed, not the newcomer.
And guess what. That means our folks got a little nervous about this idea. What happens if someone joins who wants to put an American flag on the altar or sing Onward Christian Soldiers? Is there really space for the Christian Right here? When does openness become losing identity?
In other words, we are, in very many ways, just like every other congregation out there--ackk, it pains me to admit that. Change does not come easy for us, and we are pretty convinced of the basic rightness of what we are doing.
That admission of course does not mean we are wrong, only that we think in the manner of most groups. In a community that values uniqueness and a willingness to go against the crowds, that may be the most fearful learning so far.
Truthfully, there is a level of discerning one's identity that must be maintained in a congregation in order to keep some coherence; a mission statement is not a bad thing to have. But most congregations probably go way beyond that, mostly unofficially, in their expectations of how people who join are supposed to look, act, and think. And maybe, just maybe, we are one with them. We prefer to look at who has felt welcome in our community and marvel at the diversity, not at who hasn't felt welcome.
We got snowed out last Sunday, so this is going to spill over into Lent by a week, when we will be talking about the practical nature of how this applies to our congregation/campus ministry. That may just work because repentance could be a theme we need to face. I have some ideas of what we will need to look at along, but I don't want to pollute the process by printing those ideas here (a member might actually be reading my blog!). So stay tuned; I will publish some thoughts on what comes from this process. In the meantime, get a copy of the book. The ideas are accessible by lay folk without dumbing down the presentation like so many books do.
Okay, I know what you are thinking; he's discovered a way to get out of preaching for five weeks. Actually, it was a sacrifice, especially the first week, where the gospel lesson was the wedding in Cana. The NRSV has a particularly blunt translation of the passage that refers to the guests getting drunk on the wine, and it would have been interesting to see what I would do with that with my students.
So what book inspired me to do this? The title is Radical Welcome, and it is written by Stephanie Spellers, an Episcopal priest who studied 8 congregations that were reaching out beyond their traditional constituencies to welcome the Other in their midst. Sometime back, my bishop sent a copy to each of his clergy and asked us to read it. Like many things, it sat on my desk, but it never left it and eventually I picked the book up and realized it had something to say to us.
Now, my small congregation is largely made up of people who do not feel particularly welcome at other churches for various reasons, mostly because they are too left thinking, too gay, too young, too--well, you get the idea. They would certainly like to see other congregations read this book too because they all know what it is like not to feel welcome. They may get their wish; the bishop is holding workshops on the book, has invited the author to come this year, and is urging every parish to read it. He did this at the recent diocesan convention in his address, so he is serious about it. We just happened to jump the gun on him by a week without knowing it.
What have we learned so far? First of all, that churches that are radically welcoming have to make themselves vulnerable because welcoming on this scale is not assimilation. We are not trying to grow the church by bringing in a bunch of people who look like us or who we reprogram to make them act like us. Radical welcoming means opening ourselves up to the possibility that it is we who will be changed, not the newcomer.
And guess what. That means our folks got a little nervous about this idea. What happens if someone joins who wants to put an American flag on the altar or sing Onward Christian Soldiers? Is there really space for the Christian Right here? When does openness become losing identity?
In other words, we are, in very many ways, just like every other congregation out there--ackk, it pains me to admit that. Change does not come easy for us, and we are pretty convinced of the basic rightness of what we are doing.
That admission of course does not mean we are wrong, only that we think in the manner of most groups. In a community that values uniqueness and a willingness to go against the crowds, that may be the most fearful learning so far.
Truthfully, there is a level of discerning one's identity that must be maintained in a congregation in order to keep some coherence; a mission statement is not a bad thing to have. But most congregations probably go way beyond that, mostly unofficially, in their expectations of how people who join are supposed to look, act, and think. And maybe, just maybe, we are one with them. We prefer to look at who has felt welcome in our community and marvel at the diversity, not at who hasn't felt welcome.
We got snowed out last Sunday, so this is going to spill over into Lent by a week, when we will be talking about the practical nature of how this applies to our congregation/campus ministry. That may just work because repentance could be a theme we need to face. I have some ideas of what we will need to look at along, but I don't want to pollute the process by printing those ideas here (a member might actually be reading my blog!). So stay tuned; I will publish some thoughts on what comes from this process. In the meantime, get a copy of the book. The ideas are accessible by lay folk without dumbing down the presentation like so many books do.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
A Pact with the Devil
So let's see. We have a disaster of near biblical proportions. So what do we do in the Church? Should we pray for the victims? Should we ask God to comfort those who mourn? Nahhhh, let's blame the victims instead! This week, Pat Robertson claimed that Haiti was cursed because the people made a pact with the devil in order to get freed from slavery.
Apparently Pat Robertson is the Deuteronomic writer of the Old Testament. For those of you who skipped seminary, Old Testament Scholars divide up the major sources in the Torah and the histories into four major groups generally identified by the letters J, E, P, and D. They even tend to talk about them as if they were single writers, though no one actually believes that. I'll spare you the boring details (Actually, it's kind of interesting, but if you get an O.T. scholar talking, they'll never shut up, so let's just skip it shall we?).
The important part here is that the D or Deuteronomic writer is the major source in the Old Testament of the notion that people who are faithful prosper and people who are not find their lives falling apart. And yes, a major place to find this kind of thinking is in the book of Deuteronomy--and, by the way, yes, I am suggesting that Moses did not actually write that book.
The D writer's thinking also permeates the histories. Just look at those kings: 'Then Schlmiel came to the throne. And because he did not do what was right in the eyes of the Lord, his rule ended after 78 years.' No, you won't find this line anywhere; it's an example. Notice how Schlmiel does not die of old age after ruling for 78 years but because of his unfaithfulness. That's the kind of writing D does.
But wait, you say. You have actually read past this part of the Bible. Someone forced you to look at the story of Job at some point. And doesn't that story tell us about a man who did absolutely nothing wrong in God's eyes but still suffered? You bet it does. It is said to be a part of the Wisdom literature (no, there is no W writer), and it comes later. In part it is a direct refutation of the ideas of the D writer. Believe it or not, there is more than one theological view in the Bible. Now you know why you've been so confused all this time!
The book of Job's climactic scene has Job demanding of God a reason for his suffering. God's response? I can do what I want because I am God (and you're not!). It is a little more complicated than that, but God does have to remind Job who is who here. "Where were you when I created, oh, EVERYTHING, bucko? So knock it off!"
To be fair God does then reward Job with twice what he has lost, so things do work out in the end. Hollywood should get a hold of this one; it even has the happy ending they so love.
But I digress. Job apparently is not in Pat Robertson's Bible. So, in order for him to feel satisfied, he has to come up with a plausible explanation for why things are to horrible in Haiti, time after time. Of course, that means a pact with the devil, apparently taken 200 years ago is the logical reason, not sitting in the middle of hurricane alley on top of a fault line.
There are so many problems with Robertson's argument that it is hard to keep on top of them. But let me try, just in case you were not quite prepared to do the research on all of it.
First of all, one should read the statement on his web page. There is a press release that attempts to explain what Robertson meant. Mind you, I thought he was pretty clear. Insane, but clear. Here's a quote from the press release; "His comments were based on the widely-discussed 1791 slave rebellion led by Boukman Dutty at Bois Caiman, where the slaves allegedly made a famous pact with the devil in exchange for victory over the French. This history, combined with the horrible state of the country, has led countless scholars and religious figures over the centuries to believe the country is cursed." (http://www.patrobertson.com/pressreleases/haiti.asp)
I particularly love the way the statement makes clear that Robertson never says the earthquake is due to the curse. But wait a minute. Wasn't Robertson talking about Haiti in light of the newest disaster when he decided to go on this diatribe? Yes, he was. But we were not supposed to get the implication that the earthquake was a result? Come on!
So here's the problem. Dutty Boukman, so called in French because his nickname was "Book Man" was more likely a Muslim (The people of the Book, i.e., the Koran). In 1791, he did lead a service involving the sacrifice of a pig, considered an untamable spirit of the forest. And he did lead people in a prayer. Here it is:
"The god who created the earth; who created the sun that gives us light.The god who holds up the ocean; who makes the thunder roar. Our God who has ears to hear. You who are hidden in the clouds; who watch us from where you are. You see all that the white has made us suffer. The white man's god asks him to commit crimes. But the god within us wants to do good. Our god, who is so good, so just, He orders us to revenge our wrongs. It's He who will direct our arms and bring us the victory. It's He who will assist us. We all should throw away the image of the white men's god who is so pitiless. Listen to the voice for liberty that sings in all our hearts."
Notice, there is no pact with the devil. Significantly, in exhorting the people to cast aside the image of God of the White people who held them in slavery, he became an early liberation theologian.
The ceremony is largely considered to be the spark of the Haitian rebellion, and Boukman is revered in Haiti. Angry White Christians turned this story into a pact with the devil. Real Haitian scholars disagree, but they are not attempting to explain away why thousands of angry Haitians were able to win despite inferior weapons and they also are not trying to suggest the revolution was a bad idea (evil) like those so-called Christian scholars were.
And that, finally, is what makes Robertson's comments so evil. By claiming a pact with the devil, he ties himself to the rest of the history. He suggests the Haitians would not have been capable of winning their freedom. Worse than that, he accepts the notion that they should have accepted being slaves and that the Whites had a right to continue the oppression.
But you know, if you look at the video of Robertson speaking, what you really get a picture of is a man who is standing with one foot in the grave. The young woman beside him practically has to hold him up. Increasingly, the statements that come from him are becoming more and more bizarre. It's time to call it quits, Pat, before you actually start drooling on the stage.
Which is why I ultimately think what Rush Limbaugh had to say was far more evil. Robertson is a doddering old fool. Limbaugh is not (unless, of course, he's back on the pills. We never did hear how he manages his pain these days, did we?). Limbaugh suggesting that he was not giving money for Haitian relief because he pays taxes was just straight out crude, racist, and evil. He is ultimately without compassion for the poorest among us.
Yes, some of your taxes are going to Haiti. Clearly not enough to solve the problems, as it is still the poorest country in the Western hemisphere. And yes, the president has promised aid to the country after the earthquake; can you imagine what Limbaugh would have said it Obama had not done so? But every creature with half a brain knows this will not be enough money, and those with the slightest empathy wants to reach out. That statement apparently leaves Rush out.
So I'll go out on my own limb: Neither of these men has the slightest idea what Christianity is really about. Robertson is fighting a war against demons instead of embracing the New Jerusalem as an event that we are called to bring into being here on earth, while Limbaugh is holding on to American capitalism (i.e., Greed) as his religion. So yes, we have twin evils here; resist them, firm in your faith.
Apparently Pat Robertson is the Deuteronomic writer of the Old Testament. For those of you who skipped seminary, Old Testament Scholars divide up the major sources in the Torah and the histories into four major groups generally identified by the letters J, E, P, and D. They even tend to talk about them as if they were single writers, though no one actually believes that. I'll spare you the boring details (Actually, it's kind of interesting, but if you get an O.T. scholar talking, they'll never shut up, so let's just skip it shall we?).
The important part here is that the D or Deuteronomic writer is the major source in the Old Testament of the notion that people who are faithful prosper and people who are not find their lives falling apart. And yes, a major place to find this kind of thinking is in the book of Deuteronomy--and, by the way, yes, I am suggesting that Moses did not actually write that book.
The D writer's thinking also permeates the histories. Just look at those kings: 'Then Schlmiel came to the throne. And because he did not do what was right in the eyes of the Lord, his rule ended after 78 years.' No, you won't find this line anywhere; it's an example. Notice how Schlmiel does not die of old age after ruling for 78 years but because of his unfaithfulness. That's the kind of writing D does.
But wait, you say. You have actually read past this part of the Bible. Someone forced you to look at the story of Job at some point. And doesn't that story tell us about a man who did absolutely nothing wrong in God's eyes but still suffered? You bet it does. It is said to be a part of the Wisdom literature (no, there is no W writer), and it comes later. In part it is a direct refutation of the ideas of the D writer. Believe it or not, there is more than one theological view in the Bible. Now you know why you've been so confused all this time!
The book of Job's climactic scene has Job demanding of God a reason for his suffering. God's response? I can do what I want because I am God (and you're not!). It is a little more complicated than that, but God does have to remind Job who is who here. "Where were you when I created, oh, EVERYTHING, bucko? So knock it off!"
To be fair God does then reward Job with twice what he has lost, so things do work out in the end. Hollywood should get a hold of this one; it even has the happy ending they so love.
But I digress. Job apparently is not in Pat Robertson's Bible. So, in order for him to feel satisfied, he has to come up with a plausible explanation for why things are to horrible in Haiti, time after time. Of course, that means a pact with the devil, apparently taken 200 years ago is the logical reason, not sitting in the middle of hurricane alley on top of a fault line.
There are so many problems with Robertson's argument that it is hard to keep on top of them. But let me try, just in case you were not quite prepared to do the research on all of it.
First of all, one should read the statement on his web page. There is a press release that attempts to explain what Robertson meant. Mind you, I thought he was pretty clear. Insane, but clear. Here's a quote from the press release; "His comments were based on the widely-discussed 1791 slave rebellion led by Boukman Dutty at Bois Caiman, where the slaves allegedly made a famous pact with the devil in exchange for victory over the French. This history, combined with the horrible state of the country, has led countless scholars and religious figures over the centuries to believe the country is cursed." (http://www.patrobertson.com/pressreleases/haiti.asp)
I particularly love the way the statement makes clear that Robertson never says the earthquake is due to the curse. But wait a minute. Wasn't Robertson talking about Haiti in light of the newest disaster when he decided to go on this diatribe? Yes, he was. But we were not supposed to get the implication that the earthquake was a result? Come on!
So here's the problem. Dutty Boukman, so called in French because his nickname was "Book Man" was more likely a Muslim (The people of the Book, i.e., the Koran). In 1791, he did lead a service involving the sacrifice of a pig, considered an untamable spirit of the forest. And he did lead people in a prayer. Here it is:
"The god who created the earth; who created the sun that gives us light.The god who holds up the ocean; who makes the thunder roar. Our God who has ears to hear. You who are hidden in the clouds; who watch us from where you are. You see all that the white has made us suffer. The white man's god asks him to commit crimes. But the god within us wants to do good. Our god, who is so good, so just, He orders us to revenge our wrongs. It's He who will direct our arms and bring us the victory. It's He who will assist us. We all should throw away the image of the white men's god who is so pitiless. Listen to the voice for liberty that sings in all our hearts."
Notice, there is no pact with the devil. Significantly, in exhorting the people to cast aside the image of God of the White people who held them in slavery, he became an early liberation theologian.
The ceremony is largely considered to be the spark of the Haitian rebellion, and Boukman is revered in Haiti. Angry White Christians turned this story into a pact with the devil. Real Haitian scholars disagree, but they are not attempting to explain away why thousands of angry Haitians were able to win despite inferior weapons and they also are not trying to suggest the revolution was a bad idea (evil) like those so-called Christian scholars were.
And that, finally, is what makes Robertson's comments so evil. By claiming a pact with the devil, he ties himself to the rest of the history. He suggests the Haitians would not have been capable of winning their freedom. Worse than that, he accepts the notion that they should have accepted being slaves and that the Whites had a right to continue the oppression.
But you know, if you look at the video of Robertson speaking, what you really get a picture of is a man who is standing with one foot in the grave. The young woman beside him practically has to hold him up. Increasingly, the statements that come from him are becoming more and more bizarre. It's time to call it quits, Pat, before you actually start drooling on the stage.
Which is why I ultimately think what Rush Limbaugh had to say was far more evil. Robertson is a doddering old fool. Limbaugh is not (unless, of course, he's back on the pills. We never did hear how he manages his pain these days, did we?). Limbaugh suggesting that he was not giving money for Haitian relief because he pays taxes was just straight out crude, racist, and evil. He is ultimately without compassion for the poorest among us.
Yes, some of your taxes are going to Haiti. Clearly not enough to solve the problems, as it is still the poorest country in the Western hemisphere. And yes, the president has promised aid to the country after the earthquake; can you imagine what Limbaugh would have said it Obama had not done so? But every creature with half a brain knows this will not be enough money, and those with the slightest empathy wants to reach out. That statement apparently leaves Rush out.
So I'll go out on my own limb: Neither of these men has the slightest idea what Christianity is really about. Robertson is fighting a war against demons instead of embracing the New Jerusalem as an event that we are called to bring into being here on earth, while Limbaugh is holding on to American capitalism (i.e., Greed) as his religion. So yes, we have twin evils here; resist them, firm in your faith.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Because We All Should Listen to Rock Musicians when They Stop Singing
Okay. Bono apparently got himself in trouble again. Actually, it took one of my students to tell me about this one; I wasn't reading the right stuff.
In this case, the right stuff is Bono's editorial column in the New York Times. If you have missed it, he has one. He writes regularly, and they print it. That says about as much as anything, doesn't it?
Now, I am not a Bono basher (see earlier U2 blogs). I have heard all the stuff about how they use tax shelters and encourage people to buy overpriced Red items rather than just giving the money to charities. So what? Bono knows his audience and what works with them. More power to him. And he never claims to be anything more than he is. And, anyway, he does his homework a lot better than some members of Congress. But, no, he is not my source of knowledge on global warming or poverty. On the other hand, his information is usually correct according to the places I do follow.
So why is he in trouble now? Because he defended artists against illegal downloading and suggested using the same techniques that China does to block information. It's that last part that got him so much grief, although some people seem to think they can justify illegal downloading despite knowing that the artist loses money on it, whether you are talking about U2 or your local starving folk artist who self published a CD.
So let's set a little context here. First of all, Bono wrote his editorial as a top ten list of things he hoped to see in 2010. The first item was something about American cars getting back to being sexy again. For most people, that should have been a signal that this was not the deadly earnest Bono preaching about unrest in southeast nations. He was having a bit of fun, at least for part of the column. Some peoplemissed that.
Second, he was talking largely about the film industry and said that he hoped they took steps to stop illegal downloading before downloading movies became as fast as music. He pointed out that the download services are getting very rich from this activity while the musicians are the primary ones being hurt. And then he added this self aware line: "Note to self: Don’t get over-rewarded rock stars on this bully pulpit, or famous actors; find the next Cole Porter, if he/she hasn’t already left to write jingles."
In other words, he knows he is not the person to sell this issue. Is it just possible that he might not be as self serving as the naysayers want to make him out to be? At least give him credit for the self awareness. Besides, the sad reality is that he is the one who does have the NY Times column. Joe folk guitarist does not; he can scream until he's blue and not be heard.
As for the China business, what Bono really said is that the way China censors information simply proves that the technology to stop illegal downloads already exists. he did not suggest that the U.S. start censoring information, only that we use our ability to stop illegal activity. Notice how many times I have used the word illegal so far.
The justifications people use for stealing intellectual property boggle my mind. Just buy the damn music people. We got along for generations buying it, and the cost of music, despite all the bitching out there, has gone up far less than inflation. If you don't want to deal with all that ITunes authorization stuff (they got rid of it recently anyway) do something novel like buy a CD. Then you never have to worry about which machines you authorized to play it.
Now, I am not going to pretend to hold the high road here. I used Napster a lot when it first came out. Mostly I was downloading copies of music I have in vinyl for because that was cleaner than copying to records to my computer and took a lot less time. But I did see things out there that I did not have and downloaded them as well.
But that was the past, and anyway, I have since either deleted that stuff or bought a licensed copy. My conscience got to me. And so did the ten commandments. The only things left are those things I cannot find a way to buy.
Stealing is stealing, and doubly so when it is for something that would not even slightly count as a necessity. We're not talking food for starving orphans folks. We're talking about music and movies.
Even if the artists are stinking rich, that does not give me the right to steal from them. Try using that argument to steal a painting from one of the Wyeths. "They're rich, so I'll just take this landscape." Sounds stupid doesn't it.
The argument that most of the money goes to the downloading service (see solution above) or the record company doesn't wash either. It's still stealing. But, I suppose, when students can buy papers on line from established companies and don't know how to avoid plagiarism because they apparently don't understand the concept, the idea of intellectual ownership simply sounds archaic. Just wait until someone takes credit for their work and see how they react. Until the, I'm with Bono on this one.
In this case, the right stuff is Bono's editorial column in the New York Times. If you have missed it, he has one. He writes regularly, and they print it. That says about as much as anything, doesn't it?
Now, I am not a Bono basher (see earlier U2 blogs). I have heard all the stuff about how they use tax shelters and encourage people to buy overpriced Red items rather than just giving the money to charities. So what? Bono knows his audience and what works with them. More power to him. And he never claims to be anything more than he is. And, anyway, he does his homework a lot better than some members of Congress. But, no, he is not my source of knowledge on global warming or poverty. On the other hand, his information is usually correct according to the places I do follow.
So why is he in trouble now? Because he defended artists against illegal downloading and suggested using the same techniques that China does to block information. It's that last part that got him so much grief, although some people seem to think they can justify illegal downloading despite knowing that the artist loses money on it, whether you are talking about U2 or your local starving folk artist who self published a CD.
So let's set a little context here. First of all, Bono wrote his editorial as a top ten list of things he hoped to see in 2010. The first item was something about American cars getting back to being sexy again. For most people, that should have been a signal that this was not the deadly earnest Bono preaching about unrest in southeast nations. He was having a bit of fun, at least for part of the column. Some peoplemissed that.
Second, he was talking largely about the film industry and said that he hoped they took steps to stop illegal downloading before downloading movies became as fast as music. He pointed out that the download services are getting very rich from this activity while the musicians are the primary ones being hurt. And then he added this self aware line: "Note to self: Don’t get over-rewarded rock stars on this bully pulpit, or famous actors; find the next Cole Porter, if he/she hasn’t already left to write jingles."
In other words, he knows he is not the person to sell this issue. Is it just possible that he might not be as self serving as the naysayers want to make him out to be? At least give him credit for the self awareness. Besides, the sad reality is that he is the one who does have the NY Times column. Joe folk guitarist does not; he can scream until he's blue and not be heard.
As for the China business, what Bono really said is that the way China censors information simply proves that the technology to stop illegal downloads already exists. he did not suggest that the U.S. start censoring information, only that we use our ability to stop illegal activity. Notice how many times I have used the word illegal so far.
The justifications people use for stealing intellectual property boggle my mind. Just buy the damn music people. We got along for generations buying it, and the cost of music, despite all the bitching out there, has gone up far less than inflation. If you don't want to deal with all that ITunes authorization stuff (they got rid of it recently anyway) do something novel like buy a CD. Then you never have to worry about which machines you authorized to play it.
Now, I am not going to pretend to hold the high road here. I used Napster a lot when it first came out. Mostly I was downloading copies of music I have in vinyl for because that was cleaner than copying to records to my computer and took a lot less time. But I did see things out there that I did not have and downloaded them as well.
But that was the past, and anyway, I have since either deleted that stuff or bought a licensed copy. My conscience got to me. And so did the ten commandments. The only things left are those things I cannot find a way to buy.
Stealing is stealing, and doubly so when it is for something that would not even slightly count as a necessity. We're not talking food for starving orphans folks. We're talking about music and movies.
Even if the artists are stinking rich, that does not give me the right to steal from them. Try using that argument to steal a painting from one of the Wyeths. "They're rich, so I'll just take this landscape." Sounds stupid doesn't it.
The argument that most of the money goes to the downloading service (see solution above) or the record company doesn't wash either. It's still stealing. But, I suppose, when students can buy papers on line from established companies and don't know how to avoid plagiarism because they apparently don't understand the concept, the idea of intellectual ownership simply sounds archaic. Just wait until someone takes credit for their work and see how they react. Until the, I'm with Bono on this one.
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