The Pope, Donald Trump, and Trying to Understand Religious Liberty

Yesterday, Donald Trump got into a rhetorical battle with the Pope after the Pontiff said that a person who builds walls not bridges is not Christian. In his response, the Donald said that as President, he would, “not allow Christianity to be consistently attacked and weakened, unlike what is happening now, with our current President.” While the coverage of the exchange has been focused on whether or not Trump is a Christian, or the Pope should have picked a fight with such a bully, religious liberty seems to have become a topic unimportant to public discourse.

Over the past few years, it seems we have heard that term so much that it has become part of the cultural white noise that we no longer really hear. When the Supreme Court made the Obergefell ruling, religious liberty was the buzzword that surrounded all the coverage of Kim Davis in Kentucky. In the weeks that followed, people, mostly men, were bemoaning the death of religious liberty at the hands of those would support or participate in marriage equality. For some, the arguments aren’t that new. They sound very similar to those Jerry Falwell Sr. said during the 1980s while the Supreme Court was deciding the issue of prayer in school. 

Throughout the history of American Christianity, and Protestant Christianity in general, religious liberty has been something of a driving force. As a Baptist-flavored Christian, my own inherited faith is rife with discussions of religious liberty, but that term is loaded with meaning. When the topic crops up of how America’s founding colonists came to this continent looking for religious liberty, I will quip that many of those religious people were looking for a liberty for themselves, and not for others. Though intended as a joke, it is a little harsh, I know. However, there is some truth to it. Roger Williams, one of the founders of the first Baptist churches in America, was run out of the Massachusetts colony when he and group started meeting outside of the Puritan tradition. 

In their book, Baptists in America, Thomas Kidd and Barry Hankins spend a lot of time talking about the arguments over religious liberty in the life of Baptists. While it seems that the book was not intended to be a written discussion of religious liberty, the defining moments the authors chose as the developmental narrative of their book all required discussions of how the topic of government and religion created opposing views. Both of these opponents were claiming to be supporting and defending the idea of religious liberty. While reading this book for a Sunday School class, discussions often went to discussing how one side or another was not really standing up for religious liberty. Typically, this was the side we disagreed with.

After two-thirds of the book, the authors went on to explain that there were two competing views of religious liberty. One was an “accommodationist” view and the other a “separatist” view. The best way I can describe this is that the accommodationist wants legislation to take into account the ground religion has already established and make sure that ground does not shrink. The separatist wants legislation to defend social ground as a whole, wherein faith can then speak to its own position within the social order. In my mind, I think of it like a playground. The former gets to establish the playground that government then has to mow and take care of while the latter wants government to create and maintain a big playground that religion then plays on. 

There, clear as mud.

Those positions haven’t really changed. In the second paragraph, I was talking about Kim Davis and the aftermath of the Obergefell ruling. Today, Ted Cruz referenced that ruling as the reason he is receiving support from Christians. He calls the current atmosphere of the court around marriage equality an attack against religious freedom. (hyperlink) His argument is that the Court’s decision is eroding the Judeo-Christian ethic that is the foundation of our country. It’s not much of a secret that Ted Cruz, and his father, have pretty radical views of faith and how they intertwine with the future of America. His new endorsement from Glenn Beck is probably the best example. In the senator’s opinion, notably is it the role of government to accommodate Christianity first when making legislation, America is itself a Christian nation. 

The separatist view, which is my personal view for full disclosure, would say that as long as the government is not telling me I have to have a certain kind of marriage, I’m OK with the ruling. My heterosexual marriage is doing just fine, and when I practice my faith, I am doing the same things I was doing before. Technically, both views are defending religious liberty. 

The question is, whose religious liberty are you protecting?

Image: courtesy of Breitbart.com

How We Might Respond To Death By How We Respond To Scalia

As reported across the news media, Associate Justice of the US Supreme Court Antonin Scalia died Saturday of a heart attack. According to NPR Justice Scalia was found in a luxury ranch in west Texas. Before the day was over, political opponents and proponents were already jockeying for political position both pushing for a swift nomination and asking for the entire process to stop until after the election. As the weekend wore on, a conspiracy theory even developed that the late Justice Scalia was murdered, since there was no autopsy, as part of a plot to give President Obama a third term. 

As the week began, one article came to my mind that I want to talk about. In South Carolina, Glenn Beck, the conservative pundit, is campaigning for Texas Senator Ted Cruz. During a campaign speech, Beck declared that God killed Justice Scalia to ensure a Ted Cruz victory in the primary and general election. He went on to say that it was his personal observation that has now woken up the American electorate to the fact that this is an evil time where we need to right person to nominate our justices. He has been seeing himself as a prophet of conservative correctness for a few years now, but it is the need Beck feels to put a reason to the death of Justice Scalia that bothers me.

Now, in truth, I had some deep moral and philosophical disagreements with Justice Scalia. Not that these were in the public sphere cause I’m not either a lawyer, or a public figure that anyone cares to know my opinion. However, as a Christian, I think we should talk about how these conversations surrounding the death of a person affect the larger conversation of death. As I’ve observed in my own congregation, we don’t like to talk about this very much. There are some who are upset about our church observing Lent and Ash Wednesday. These conversations are clothed in the language of Protestant vs. Catholic, but I think there may be something about looking at our own human mortality that bothers many. If not the main issue, it is definitely a contributing factor.

Back to Beck, what does it say about our understandings of Christianity that he can say “God killed Antonin Scalia,” just so another person could win an election? Brene Brown might say that Glenn Beck has to put events from our lives into a narrative, even if it is a complete fiction, so that he can understand what is happening. There are snarky things we could say, sure. I mean if it were God’s will that Justice Scalia die, then it must have been God’s will that President Obama was elected, twice. If everything is under the control of God, then we have the President that God wants us to have. But this doesn’t get us to the real part of the conversation. Though it is fun to take to theological battles, it doesn’t always help us to see the real life issues we are confronted with.

Is it OK for us to say that Justice Scalia just…died?

It wasn’t homicide, or Justicide, and Leonard Nimoy isn’t the head of an Illuminati plot to imbalance the Court so President Obama gets a third term. Antonin Scalia was a human being, meaning he was mortal. Just like us. And just like the experience that is waiting for all of us, he died.

During this time of Lent, we are called to look deep into our own mortality. That’s scary, especially when we come from a faith that has spent centuries talking about how we can escape death. For many, it may seem fatalistic to talk about death as something that happens to us all. I’m not trying to downplay the tragedy of it all. His family is mourning his loss; that kind of loss that comes when there is a chair empty at the dinner table, and a patriarch who will never tell his stories. His colleagues and co-workers are expressing their own mourning. They will never hear the jokes or share the joy of intellectual pursuits with him, ever again. For some, the sun shines a little less bright these days.

Though he was a unique individual, with experiences most of us will never share, this time of loss is not unique. This dark part of the year, where some of us are intentionally turning our eyes toward our own brokenness, this loss is a place where we can reflect on what it means to be creatures. Lent gives us a language to sit with those who mourn for we all share in the fragility of our perfect brokenness. We may need to make a reason, or see a pattern, but real answers are far from us. Mortality is what reminds us that we are small. It’s something we heard last week as we took the ashes.

Remember that from dust you have come, and to dust you shall return.

"Risen" and the Need to Make a "Christian" Buck

In college, my friends and I, who thought we were so cool and edgy, used to laugh at how there was this entire shadow economy wrapped around slapping “Christian” on things. I mean, we have Christian music, Christian novels, Christian art, Christian candy (you’ve not lived until you’ve tried a Testamint), and of course Christian t-shirts. It’s almost as if there is this narrative of how we need to keep our Christian money in Christian hands to make sure those nasty people like Taylor Swift and Tommy Hilfiger don’t get their idol-worshiping hands on it. 

Now, I know that a lot of my feelings about labeling products “Christian” has more to do with me than anything to do with the intent of those who are putting their work out on the market. It takes a lot of work and courage to put together something that represents the fruits of your creativity and then allow a monetary value to be attached to it. For many, I assume it is a struggle to not have your personal self worth connect to the sales numbers. However, American Christians of all backgrounds struggle with consumerism and materialism because it is such a deep part of our economy and culture. That struggle is on both sides of the marketplace, as well. It’s not just the end user who is battling the urge to consume, but the creator who has to meet the demands of those consumers. When life is stripped down to its most simple aspects. People have to make money to survive, which for some is making a product that can be sold.

This week, a new movie is to premiere that is based around a “Christian” theme. The movie, “Risen” will star Joseph Fiennes as Clavius, a Roman soldier charged with finding the body of the crucified Jesus of Nazareth. In the midst of his search, he will come into contact with many of the people from the Biblical narrative such as the Mary Magadelene, Disciples, and Pontius Pilate. There is actually a play I read in college that is similar to this focused around the experience of Cassius Longinus, the supposed centurion who pierced the side of Jesus with a spear. The movie is coming out during Lent, and I have seen that a lot of church groups are putting together nights where they rent out an entire theatre for a showing as an outreach event. 

I’ll say now that I have not screened this movie (I’m not a movie reviewer and so no one asked me…that’s obvious), and I don’t know if I will go see it. The marketing for this movie bothers me, though. A radio spot I heard, and have since seen the video on the internet, says that this is a Biblical account. Even the IMDB page describes this as the Biblical account of the resurrection as told through the eyes of this Roman soldier. The commercials I have seen depict images of a brutal and intense manhunt for the body of Jesus with text pages saying that its the story ripped from the pages of the Bible. 

However, there is no manhunt for Jesus' body in the Bible.

None of the four Gospels record this “Biblical” event. In Matthew, there are three verses that talk about the Temple leaders paying-off the soldiers who were guarding the tomb. Encouraging them to spread the rumor that the Disciples stole his body. Luke has the account of the Road to Emmaus, Mark has very little other than quickly acknowledging that the Disciples saw Jesus, and John has the story of Jesus meeting the Disciples at the Sea of Galilee while they were fishing. It seems a little strange, to say the least.

Now, if they told all of these stories from the perspective of a Roman just watching all of them happen from a distance…that would be interesting. What would it be like for a someone from a different culture to see these things happen? Especially since this person would not have been around for all of the healings and feedings. It would be interesting to hear an honest attempt at expressing the thoughts of such an outsider.

What bothers me about the movie, however, is that none of this is how the movie is being marketed. Trailers show scenes with Fiennes’ character being told to turn over every stone to find this dead Jew, and then scenes of him violently confronting Jews who may know something. But the word “Biblical” is being used, a lot.

What feelings is this supposed to create?

Does this feel a little disingenuous to anyone else?

I don’t know how to gauge the effectiveness of this movie as an outreach event, and I don’t know what to think of the actual movie, since I haven’t seen it. It bugs me, though, that the marketing of this movie seems to be focusing on using buzzwords to attract evangelical moviegoers. It’s almost as if the movie is more geared towards getting a market segment to come see and spend their money; not an attempt to put forth a genuine piece of confession. I feel manipulated and caricatured, even though I don’t see myself as an evangelical anymore.

More than that, I wonder if we should be more upset that there are those who will spend their money on this.

Do we actually know better?

Do we really care?

Discussions of Glory, or Jesus Doesn't Play Call of Duty

As I’ve written before, violence seems to be something we love, maybe more than God. A great tension in our Scriptures is that we have passages that seem to affirm violence, i.e. the conquest of Canaan, or the book of Revelation, and those verses that affirm quests for peace and pacifism, i.e. the Sermon on the Mount, or Jesus’ response to violence at his arrest. The arguments are wide and varied on both sides of the argument. There are theologians on both sides, some who say you can’t be a Christian without being a pacifist and you others who say that though violence is a sad fact of our existence in a broken world, it is still a fact.

Either way, this conversation is not ending soon, nor will it be easy to find a resolution. Over the years, I’ve found myself moving around this argument. Just like most of us, I have held different beliefs and ideals. It’s not new, nor am I some unique soul who has had a change of worldview after a reality shattering experience. It’s healthy for us to grow and change as we encounter more of the world. In fact, I believe even Paul, that most stalwart defender of the faith, had similar ideas about how humans grow. “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.” (1 Corinthians 13:11) Most recently, that journey of growth has had to do with violence, and how violence plays a role in my life.

This last week, I had an encounter I had not expected. My wife is a minister in a DC-area congregation where she has been called to help cultivate an alternative worship service. During Lent, she has selected dates and planned some special prayer services to act as testbeds for this new alternative she is hoping to curate. Since I own a guitar (note: I did not say I “play” guitar, just that I own one) she asked me to lead the music. I don’t listen to much contemporary Christian music, and so I had to bone up, as it were. I created a couple of Pandora stations and hit YouTube hard trying to find some new stuff to play.

I was introduced to some new bands and songs, and was reintroduced to some old friends that I hadn’t heard from in a long time. Truthfully, it was hard to find music to fit the theme of the service. My wife had planned the service around worshiping the aspect of “caregiving” in our lives. The night was beautiful and spoke to the need for rest, growth, and renewal that we each experience in those seasons of caregiving. During my listening, however, there was a theme that seemed to run through a shocking amount of the music I heard.

There was a deep connection to God’s glory, God’s victory, and the destruction of opponents.

I was disturbed by these images as they came out of my earbuds. Imagery of a world where the Christian is attacked and needs God to come and defeat the “opponent” were frequent. Songs about battles and and warfare seemed to be extremely popular. And all of them were set to the most soothing of instrumental arrangements. Most lyrics paint a black and white world where there is a “good” and a “bad” with good being the victorious warrior. One song, set to an instrumental back drop of majestic major chords and swelling vocals spoke to God’s glorious destruction of all that hinders the singer. 

It was a little weird

As I put this in context to the Gospel readings for last Sunday I feel a little uncomfortable. I mean, I remember singing songs, and preaching sermons, that communicated these exact things. Personally, I’m on a journey to find a faith that is big enough for the version of me from five years ago. However, I just can’t do these kind of violent images about God anymore. I’m not the only one talk about about this (there are two great posts here and here about Christianity and violence), and I’m sure I will not be the last. I’m also not naive enough to believe that my entire congregation believes the same way I do. 

However, when I think of the Savior that talked about loving enemies, blessing the persecutors, and was finally killed by those who disagreed with him, it makes me ask questions about how we imagine glory. When we think of the glory due the Prince of Peace, do we imagine it as those Roman parades in genre movies?

Are there shiny armies with weapons and drums leading a chariot with Jesus waving to the crowd? 

Does the King, whose crown is a crown of thorns, really fit that picture?

If not, how do we talk, and sing, about glory?

Our culture and context has generated images of glory for us. We might think of Peyton Manning hoisting the Super Bowl trophy, or how the Stanley Cup makes laps around the rink after winning the series. Older generations may remember ticker-tape parades or have fond memories of seeing grand speeches. Glory comes with winning, overcoming and defeating in the American ideal. It’s what is expect for our soldiers, it what we want from our favorite athletes, and its the image we create for our most popular politicians. It’s just how we see glory.

These images seem a little different with Jesus, however. Sure, there is the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, and the Calming of the Storm over the Sea of Galilee. But in the first story, there were no war machines, just people laying their cloaks on the ground. In the second, there were only twelve witnesses recorded in the text. In the end, he dies a criminal on the edges of society, abandoned by his closest followers, and mocked by the onlooking crowds. Depending on the text you refer to, the numbers who see his resurrected form vary from handfuls to hundreds. But in the end, there is no parade, no trophy, and no grand speech on a big platform. 

We should probably sing about THAT glory.

But how do we do that? The song is just not as peppy as we are used to.

Lectionary Thoughts: Luke 4:5-8; Jesus for President

Ash Wednesday was yesterday, and so the Church now begins the observance of the Lenten Fast. I didn’t grow up observing Lent, and I know more than a few Christians still have reservations about this practice, for many reasons. So, to avoid talking about observing fasts, participating in practices that may be labeled “Catholic,” or getting sidetracked in the maze of confusion that is denominational identity; let’s just look at a small segment of the Scriptures that will be read in some churches this week. 

This Sunday, someone will take to the pulpit to read this Gospel passage from Luke 4, and for many, it is a familiar story. It is one of those scenes we crave. It’s simple and paints a stark picture of good versus evil. It’s a heavyweight bout of Jesus against Satan where both quote Scripture at each other. As a youth, growing up in an evangelical church, it was an image of an ideal world. One where all you needed to know was how to make the best Scripture quotes and evil would be defeated. It validates every Bible Drill, or Sword Training, class in Church. As a Baptist, I’m sure this scene inspired the saying, “We are people of the Book.” We all want to be such great caretakers of our Scriptures that we grab hold of them and utilize them moment by moment. 

I would like, however, to focus on just a few verses of this story. Starting in verse five, Jesus is confronted with a particular temptation; one that I think we are all familiar with, today. It’s the temptation to have power, authority, or clout, if only Jesus will kneel in worship. Often, it’s that image of Jesus being asked to worship Satan that receives the most focus. I remember once hearing a minister reference the scene from 1980’s Superman II where the Last Son of Krypton is told to “Kneel before Zod.” We are meant to connect to this image of defiance. If that is the goal of your sermon…there’s a free allusion to use.

What if, though, we focused not on how Jesus refuses to worship the devil, but what is offered as a temptation. Vast amounts of political power and prestige would be quite a temptation. As Mel Brooks said, “It’s good to be the king.” So, what does it mean that the “King of Kings” rejected this temptation? In my mind, it seems to be more than just, “He knew it wasn’t time for this, yet.” In this season of Lent, we are all trying to find ourselves in this journey to the cross, but however hard we try, we know that we are in the shadow of the resurrection. 

Maybe, there is a message in the fact that Jesus is not just turning down the worship of the devil, but that he is also passing on the opportunity to be put in authority over all these kingdoms. And not just to pick up that authority later. When I picture the Jesus here being the same one who is later put to death under the authority of just such an earthly kingdom, it’s not ironic. To me, it’s poetic. Jesus is turning his back on the kind of authority and power so easily associated with kings. 

There is no compulsory adoration in Jesus’ ministry. 

There is no execution.

There is no war. 

When we take the ashes, we are not only reminded that we are mortal. There is a command from the New Testament that is also used. 

“Repent and believe the Good News.” 

Jesus’ temptation is not just a pit stop on the road to a different kingdom. It’s more than just a glimpse of a different way for God to come to the same ends. It’s not about “Christian Nations,” and it doesn’t paint a road of going through hell to get to heaven. Jesus’ temptation is a moment that sets the tone for the message of Gospel. The message that leads the Messiah to say, “Turn the other cheek,” or “Do not repay evil for evil,” can never be one that rejects authority over kingdoms then just to take it up now. 

Jesus was coming to serve then.

Has come to serve now.

And is coming to serve for all time. 

American Individualism and the Plural "You"

American Individualism and the Plural “You”

Do you know what a “second-person, personal pronoun” is? Don’t worry. This post will not be a grammar lesson. I’ve tried three times to write one, but I’ve bored myself so much that I gave up. Anyway, the word “you” is just such a pronoun. We use this word everyday, and in proper English it can be used either in a singular or a plural number. (Such as when some says, “You preachers talk too much.” or “You Christians are all the same.”) However, in the southern and southwestern parts of the US, we developed “ya’ll” to replace the plural form. 

Well, I lied about the grammar lesson it seems, but that will be the end of it…for the most part. “Ya’ll” has become so handy that my iPhone will even correct for it when I send a text. (It adds the apostrophe and everything.) I’ve met people from other parts of the US that employ their own versions of “ya’ll.” It’s to correct for a deficiency in English where we can’t tell when we hear someone speak whether they mean one person or a group of people. It doesn’t come up so much in the political arena, mostly because politicians want to be inclusive and use “we” instead. However, these colloquial terms exist, and they are hard to get out of our everyday speech. (Trust me! I’ve been trying not to say “ya’ll” since I’ve moved to DC…and I tend to fail more than succeed.)

But none of these terms are considered “good grammar,” and so when authors write for publication, or when Biblical scholars translate a text, we are left with the good, old fashioned, “you.” Not a problem, though. It was meant to serve as both a singular and plural word. We can tell the difference, right?

I don’t think we do a good job of that, though. The US is a country of individuals, not a place of great community.  Because we are trying to be whatever we want, or taking care of ourselves, because no one else will. Individualism is a part of our American DNA. American individualism is talked about so much that there is almost no need to talk about it. It’s that part of us that says that our struggles and afflictions are really our own. They are unique to who we are.

But what if individualism did more than just inform the way we see the world? What if it informed the way we read our Bibles? Like I talked about earlier, it’s not proper grammar to say “ya’ll” in a formal setting. Biblical scholars would never use such a common turn of phrase in formal writing. When we read our English-language Bibles, we are reading a proper style that is far from what we normally speak and hear. For most of my teen years, the pastors who ministered to me were apt to let “ya’ll” into their sermons, though, and that just goes to fuel my curiosity. 

You see, the writers of the Bible had a way to differentiate between you-singular and you-plural. The original audiences would have heard the difference when the texts were read. Is it different for us? On Sunday morning, or if you read the texts for yourself, do we really know who the writer is talking to? I think we tend to think of the texts as talking to an individual…not a community. We can’t help but understand the texts in terms of our language. Our thoughts are processed through English filters enhanced with our American worship of the individuals.

A good “ya’ll” would probably benefit us when we read the Scriptures. That way when when Jesus, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples,”(John 8:31) it would be more of a conversation in a community instead of a command for me. Maybe the next version of the English Bible should read, “If ya’ll hold to my teaching, ya’ll are really my disciples.”  

Although, if I had done this in seminary...I probably would have done even worse in Greek.