Sunday, January 29, 2023

Journal rambling Jan. 29, 2023

 

This is some journal rambling I did on January 29, 2023. I’m not sure why I’m posting it here, but here it is.

 

I’m reading Jon Meacham’s book The Soul of America, The Battle for our Better Angels. I just started and haven’t read much of it yet, but boy to I have bone to pick with Meacham. He is painting far too rosy a picture of American history. He mentions Jefferson without saying he as a slaveowner. He mentions some of Jackson’s flaws but doesn’t go far enough in blasting him for them. He praises Teddy Roosevelt without saying that he was a God-awful imperialist. He praises Woodrow Wilson without calling the racist that he was. He quotes Eisenhower on leadership but doesn’t mention his reluctance to act on matters of civil rights. At least not yet he hasn’t done any of those things. Maybe he’ll get around to it, but so far he’s being way too much of Pollyanna for me.

Meacham quotes Adam Smith, Thomas Paine, and other Enlightenment optimists on the proposition that people are basically good. Smith says the successful won’t close the door after them to keep others out. Like hell they won’t! That at least was my first thought. But the question occurs to me: Just what is my opinion of humanity generally and humans individually? Are people basically good, or basically bad, or basically both? I think we are by nature naturally selfish. Our egos want us to look out for No. 1 and sometimes say to hell with everyone else. We are so distinctly created as centered selves that it is nearly impossible not to be self-centered. True fullness of life comes from overcoming self-centeredness, but very few people are ever able to do it. Fullness of life comes for living agape love, but human culture mostly pushes so strongly against that kind of living that relatively few people even know that there is a way of living that is not destructively self-centered. And yes, striving for fullness of life is also self-centered in a way. But there is a distinct moral difference between self-centered as being concerned only for oneself and being self-centered as a way of being concerned for others, for justice, for peace, for environmental protection, etc.

We subsist as centered selves. We cannot subsist any other way. That we do makes it more likely that we will do harm to others than that we will do good for others. The highest stage of human development is self-transcendence. That doesn’t mean we cease to be a centered self. We can’t cease being a centered self. It means living as a self out of oneself. Out of one’s ego. Out of one’s concern only for oneself. So very, very few people ever reach that stage of development.

Our dominant American culture says work to get yourself ahead and take your immediate family with you, but don’t worry much about anyone else. We’ve long idolized the “self-made man,” not realizing, or pretending that we don’t realize, that there is no such thing. Something like twenty-four hundred years ago Aristotle said humans are social animals. Of necessity we live in relationship with others. We can’t thrive without living in relationship with others. That should mean that we improve ourselves and our lives not by being selfish but by cultivating healthy relationships with others, relationships that benefit both ourselves and the other. Yet it seems to me that so few of us do it. Or at least, very few of us are intentional about doing it.

I've never been particular intentional about doing it myself except with my immediate family. I’m an introvert, or at least most of the time I’m an introvert. I don’t make friends easily. Essentially no one seeks me out as a friend, nor do I seek anyone else out as a friend. I’ve had friends. I married two of them. But I’ve been telling myself recently that my Irish Terrier Jake was the best friend I’ve ever had canine or human. Jake had no choice about living with me. Mercifully, that reality for dogs doesn’t seem to bother them. They create a pack with us and have no thought of doing anything else, or at least most of them don’t.

We humans always have a choice about being in intentional relationship with another person. We live of necessity in unintentional relationship with countless others, most of whom we never meet. I’ll never meet the people who created and built this computer I’m using right now, but I have a relationship with them. I’ll never meet the people who designed and built the roads I drive on so frequently, but I have a relationship with them. I’ll never meet the people who discovered and manufactured the prescription drugs I take every day, but I have a relationship with them. That’s why there’s no such thing as a self-made man. Rich people often think they got rich solely through their own efforts. They may have devoted immense efforts to getting rich, but they simply did not do it alone. As Donne so wisely said, “no man is an island.”

So much of the harm we do comes from our failure to understand and live into that truth. At least in the dominant American culture it is quite the cultural norm for people to claw their way to the top of some economic or political structure giving not one good God damn about the people they trample on the way up.

So I guess my basic conception of humans is that we are capable of being and doing good, but the odds are stacked against our being and doing good. Yes, the world has a great many good people. A very few are saints. Many are just decent folk who don’t intentionally harm anyone and are ready to help others as they are able. A great many others, however, don’t give a damn about anyone else. They’re perfectly willing to harm others to advance what they think are their own self-interests. They vote for politicians who they think will benefit themselves with no thought to whether or not those politicians will benefit society as a whole. There’s a reason “liberal” has become a dirty word among us. Those who want everyone to focus only on themselves or their own class or race have to put down people whose focus is broader as weak or a socialists who want to take people’s money away and give it to people who don’t deserve it. Many people consider the term “do-gooder” to be an insult. So many of us do being human so badly.

Then there are the instances in which people, usually but not always as part of a group of people, whether a small street gang or a whole nation, do such horrific things that we can hardly believe humans are capable of doing them. Some human being in an SS uniform shot all those Jews in Poland and the USSR. Some human being in an SS uniform opened the valve to gas a huge number of innocent people to death, and some other human being ordered him to do it. Someone shot all those people Stalin ordered to be shot. I read once of a Russian man whose regular job was to spend a regular work shift shooting people in the back of the head. Some human beings broke into the homes of Ukrainian peasants and stole the little bit of food they had so they would starve to death, and some other human beings ordered them to do it. Mao didn’t kill millions of people with is own hands. Other human beings did it for him. The Japanese soldiers who carried out the rape of Shanghai were human beings. Being human carries with it no insurmountable barrier to being a murderous monster.

Yet of course most of us by far are not murderous monsters. Most of us are just ordinary folk going about our lives trying to live as best we can and not intentionally harming anyone. But so many of us, myself included, live privileged lives as beneficiaries of systems of oppression and even genocide. I’ve never killed a Native American, and I never will. But it was Americans of European heritage like me who carried out a policy of theft, violence, and oppression against Native Americans that really did amount to genocide. I’ve never dropped an atomic bomb on anyone, and I never will. My father never did either, but he may have survived World War II because someone else did.

People like me like to think of ourselves as so innocent, but we really aren’t. I live in a country that makes up something like 3% of the world’s population but consumes something like 25% of the world’s resources. Just being an American with privilege makes me guilty because I benefit from so much wrong. I am a white American who benefits every day from my country’s history and present reality of virulent racism. I live on land my white ancestors stole from Native people. I buy products made in countries with low wages so I can afford them and someone else can make a lot of money off of them.

When I stop to think about what it is to be human, it all gets awfully depressing. Yes, there is a lot of good in the world, though we don’t hear about it nearly as much as we hear about all the bad. We see horrific video of police officers beating Tyre Nichols to death. We don’t see video of police officers actually helping the people they supposedly are there to help. Yes, there is a lot of good in the world. But the amount of bad in the world can just be overwhelming. How can we humans do so much harm to other humans, to other living beings, and to the earth itself? Most of us don’t want to do any harm at all, but we do it nonetheless. And most of us Americans don’t even know all the harm our levels of affluence cause in other parts of the world.

So are human beings good? Or are we bad? The answer has to be, yes. We have so much potential in us both for good and for evil. Our call as humans is to avoid the evil and do the good. Many of us succeed in fulfilling that call, but many of us don’t. I guess the bottom line here is just that being a human being is a very complicated thing. Sadly, I don’t think it’s every going to get simpler.

 

Monday, January 9, 2023

The End of American Democracy?

 

The End of American Democracy?

January 9, 2023

 

Republicans now control the United States House of Representatives. They have elected representative Kevin McCarthy of California Speaker of the House, the person who stands third in line to the presidency of the United States. It took them fifteen ballots to do it, and to win, McCarthy had to convince six extreme Trumpist representatives to vote “Present” rather than vote against him. He was elected with only 216 yes votes, less than a majority of House members. It is not entirely clear how much McCarthy had to sell out to those six extremists (although I’m reluctant to call them that because McCarthy and nearly every Republican representative is an extremist in their own right) to get them not to vote against him. We do know at least that he agreed to a change in the House rules that will allow any representative to move at any time for the removal of the Speaker, something that would only tie up the House in a total waste of time and stop any constructive work from being done (not that I expect Republicans to do any constructive work in any event, which I don’t). It is clear that in order to satisfy his ego drive to be Speaker, McCarthy had to give the crazy extremists of his party essential veto power over all legislation. The Republican majority in the house is so small, 222 to 213, that five Republicans voting against any bill would stop it from passing as long as all Democrats also voted against it. In theory, I suppose, that gives some power to the Democrats, for if enough of them to offset the no votes of the Republican crazies voted for a bill, it just might pass. Still, as a practical matter, the six Republicans who voted “Present,” Biggs, Boebert, Crane, Gaetz, Good, and Rosendale, not Speaker McCarthy, will control what happens and what doesn’t happen in the House of Representatives for the next two years.

Because even the majority of the Republican representatives are themselves right-wing extremists, and because of the power of the “Present” six, the prospects for American democracy over at least the next two years are dire at best. The Republicans have all vowed to slash spending on Social Security and Medicare, vital programs for millions of Americans, myself included, that we all pay for our entire working lives. They have said that they will waste immense amounts of their time and our money investigating what they call the “weaponization” of the FBI and the Department of Justice. By “weaponization” they mean that those agencies have been doing their legal and constitutional jobs of investigating possible criminal acts by the Republicans’ baby, former president Donald Trump. Never mind that there is more than adequate evidence against Trump not just to justify but to demand such investigations. The FBI and DOJ are not acting politically in those investigations. The House Republicans will be acting politically, and despicably, when they conduct investigations of those agencies, investigations in support of which there is not one shred of objective evidence.

Yet that will probably not be the worst thing these House Republicans will do. There is one thing Congress must routinely do that Republicans have long complained about but in the end have done. It is to raise the federal government’s debt limit. Borrowing is the only way the federal government can pay its bills, a fact that results primarily from the way Republican Congresses and presidents have slashed taxes for wealthy people and corporations, something they have done every time they have had the chance since at least 1981. The debt is mostly the Republicans’ fault, but that doesn’t mean they will vote to allow the government to keep servicing it.

It is highly unlikely that this Republican-controlled House will vote to raise the federal government’s debt limit. Without an increase in the debt limit, the United States will have no choice but to default on the payments on prior national borrowing it is obligated to make and fail to make other payments it is legally required to make. When that happens, the US economy will collapse, probably at least to at least Depression-era levels. That will cause the entire world economy to collapse. The US federal government will essentially be unable to function at all. Failure to raise the national debt limit will have the effect of destroying the country’s national government.

That is precisely what the craziest of the Republicans want. Doing it is why they ran for Congress in the first place. It is why millions of ignorant Americans voted for them, something I am utterly incapable of understanding. Do that many Americans care about nothing but their own tax bill and say to hell with every other consideration? Apparently so. Do so many Americans either not care that their representatives refuse to condemn the seditious conspiracy Donald Trump led against the United States’ constitution and government that led to a deadly assault by Trump’s followers on the United States Capitol in an attempt to stop the peaceful transfer of power to the next duly elected president? Apparently not. Do so many Americans not care that their darling boy Donald calls white supremacists fine people and treats women as sex objects? Apparently not. Do so many Americans not care that their darling Donald cozies up to murderous dictators like Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong-un and wants to be such a dictator himself? Apparently not.

All of these truths and many others create a situation in which the survival of our American form of democracy, such as it is, may well not survive much longer. If the Congressional Trumpists succeed in destroying our federal government, as they seem hellbent on doing, a right-wing, neo-fascist coup against that government and the constitution that creates it is a virtual certainty. The chaos and hardships that will result from the collapse of our government and constitution will lead millions upon millions of frightened Americans to welcome such a coup.

The inability of the Weimar Republic to cope with Germany’s problems in the late 1920s and early 1930s led to Hitler and his genocidal, militaristic, aggressive regime that got much of the world involved in the largest war in human history and killed tens of millions of people. The inability of the tsarist government to deal with Russia’s problems in the late 19th and early 20th centuries led to the Bolshevik coup of 1917 and the horror of Stalinist Communism that followed. Such a disastrous turn of events is, I fear, a real possibility that we face in the United States today.

It won’t do to say it can’t happen here, that we’re so different from other people that we would never do what they did. Our country was, after all, built largely through the enslavement and dehumanization of millions of Black human beings and genocide against the American Indians; and we remain a deeply racist culture to this day. We do, after all, maintain a military establishment orders of magnitude bigger than we need. We have, after all, been an imperialist country for most of our existence. We have, even in very recent times, conducted illegal wars of aggression and committed an untold number of murders around the world. The horror of a violent, dictatorial takeover of our country truly is a real possibility today.

Am I overreacting to ordinary politicians and ordinary political policies with which I don’t agree? I don’t think so. The Republican Party today is no longer a normal, legitimate American political party. It is a cult of personality beholden only to Donald Trump. Republican policies today are no longer ordinary, legitimate political policies. They are policies designed only to gain power for the sake only of power and to damage and even destroy the lives of millions upon millions of Americans. The Republican Party used to stand for small government, low taxes, and a large military establishment. Most Republicans no doubt still support those unfortunate policies, but those things are no longer what their party is primarily about. It is primarily about only two things—power for the party and power for Donald Trump. Because that is what the Republican Party has devolved to, it may very well lead to the destruction of American democracy. I pray that it will not happen, but as long as people keep voting for Republicans there is probably no way to stop it. It may, in fact, already be too late.

Monday, November 21, 2022

On Lies as Truth

 

On Lies as Truth

November 21, 2022

 

I have said many times that we live in a post-fact world. Donald Trump is the best example. Essentially every statement he makes is filled with lies. Yet millions of people believe his statements to be true. If the Trumpists’ Dear Leader says something, anything really, his deluded followers take it as true though there is no evidence to support it and lots of evidence that contradicts it. Trump’s Big Lie is the best example of this phenomenon. Trump says that his electoral victory in 2020 was stolen from him by a corrupt, left-leaning political establishment. There is no evidence that that claim is true and an enormous amount of evidence that it is a lie. Yet the absence in Trump’s lie of facts supported by actual evidence matters to his followers not at all. They take the statement as true just because Trump said it. Because Trump spoke the lie, that lie functions for them as truth.

I find it surprising and important that the same dynamic prevailed in the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. The Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU) said that the Soviet Union was democratic and its people were free. The facts undeniably prove that claim to be false. The CPSU said that workers in the Soviet Union were better off than workers in the capitalist West. Because the Party issued that lie it functioned as the truth though all of the available evidence showed it to be false. The CPSU said the Soviet Union invaded Czechoslovakia in 1968 to put down a counterrevolutionary uprising fomented and financed by the CIA. All of the facts show that claim to be false, but in the Soviet Union it functioned as the truth because the Party said it. Soviet domestic propaganda often used the phrase “vsem izvestno,” which means “everyone knows,” some alleged fact. In fact, no one knew the supposed fact, but that non-fact functioned as the truth because the Party said it was true.

This dynamic from the old Soviet Union is the same as a foundational dynamic of Trumpism, or at least the Trump dynamic is very similar to the Soviet dynamic about the truth. The CPSU issued lie after lie and made their lies function as the truth. Donald Trump issues lie after lie, and his lies function as the truth for his deluded followers. In neither case did (or does) the total absence of facts to support the lie make any difference to those who are either forced to take it as the truth as in the Soviet Union or to those who choose to take it as the truth in our country today.

There is one significant difference between the way lies functioned in the Soviet Union and the way they function with Trump’s supporters that we must point out. In the Soviet Union publicly calling the CPSU on its lies very probably led to your arrest and punishment. So, hardly anyone said anything publicly against the Party line. The failure of Soviet citizens to speak up for the truth can, I think, be excused. They had no access to the actual facts of any matter of public concern. They knew that it was legally, politically, socially, and economically unsafe to contradict the Party’s lies in public. There were a few brave souls who did speak up for the truth. Alexander Solzhenitsyn and Andrei Sakharov are good examples. The Soviet government threw Solzhenitsyn out of the country and put Sakharov in isolation in the city of Nizhnyi Novgorod as punishment for their speaking the truth, but at least they spoke it. The vast majority of Soviet citizens did not. They could not and/or had valid reasons for not doing so.

The way our contemporary Trumpists take Trump’s lies to be the truth is much less excusable. Although Donald Trump would very much like to head an authoritarian government that could punish people who criticize him and call him on his lies, we don’t have such an authoritarian government. Though the Trumpists would probably like to repeal all of the Bill of Rights except the Second Amendment, we still have as much freedom as anyone in the world to call everyone, up to and including the president, on their lies. We have legally unfettered access to the actual facts of any situation we are in. We can call a Trump lie a lie and not be arrested or lose a promotion at work or lose our job altogether the way Soviet people did for speaking the truth. We can speak the truth and not have the power of the state come to shut us up and punish us.

Because we can call a lie a lie, we should, indeed we must, call lies in the public arena lies regardless of who has asserted them as true. We must do so if our democracy is to survive. One important role of the media is to speak the truth when our politicians do not. And no, Mr. Trump, those media are not the “enemy of the people” (a phrase from Stalin’s reign of terror in the worst years of Soviet life) that you say they are, or at least most of them aren’t. They don’t always, or perhaps ever, get everything perfectly right. Some media outlets are even prone to repeat Trumpist lies as though they were the truth. Fox News and Breitbart are good examples. That unfortunate reality to the contrary notwithstanding, our media, at their best, are both suppliers of truth and a forum for the free discussion of public issues. A democracy must have such media. The Soviet Union did not. Today Russia under Putin and China do not. Tyranny of any sort cannot survive when people have access to the truth, when people are free to determine the facts of any matter themselves.

The parallels  between the dynamics around truth of the USSR and our contemporary Trumpists are troubling at best. We must rid ourselves of the Trumpian notion that lies are just “alternate facts.” We must somehow get people to stop calling the truth “fake news” the way Trump so often does. If our democracy is to survive, and it is far from certain that it will, we must restore a culture in which statements of an alleged truth in our public arena must be supported by actual facts. A post-factual world is a world built in lies. No system built on lies can last for long, but such a system can cause immense damage while they exist. We must not let Trump’s lies damage our country the way the CPSU’s lies damaged Russia. Trump may find Russia a model to be followed. It isn’t, and those of us who know that it isn’t must not keep silent.

Sunday, November 13, 2022

Making a Joyful Noise

 This is the little meditation I gave today to close out a weekend retreat by the choir of First Congregational Church of Bellevue, United Church of Christ, in which I sing. It was well received by the choir members who heard it.


Making a Joyful Noise

First Congregational Church of Bellevue United Church of Christ

Choir Retreat

November 13, 2022

 

Scripture: Palm 98:4-6

 

Let us pray: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

 

I know of course that I don’t have sell any of you on the value of sacred music. We all sing in or direct a church choir, and most if not all of you are better musicians than I am. I have, however, had a kind of experience with sacred music that, as far as I know, none of you have had. That’s the experience of being a church pastor who plans worship services, sings in the church choir, and is the music director’s supervisor. I thought maybe sharing with you some of my experiences in the church I served the longest might be worthwhile this morning.

The church I served the longest in my career as a church pastor was Monroe Congregational United Church of Christ in Monroe, Washington. That church has been around since 1905. Like so many UCC churches, especially small UCC churches, it was significantly smaller when it called me as pastor in 2002 than it had been decades earlier. I served that church for nearly 13 years, and my wife Jane (who some of you may remember from the time years ago when she served here briefly as a bridge pastor) was first on staff with me and then succeeded me as the church’s pastor when I resigned. She’s still there.

When I started my service at the church in 2002, the church had a Music Director who’d been there for a year or so before I showed up. He was actually on the search committee that selected me as their candidate for the call to the church as pastor. His name is Keith, and he’s still there, working now with my wife as his supervisor. Keith is no Stephen O’Bent and no Dennis Coleman (but then who is?), but he is a good choir director and a good organist and pianist. I understand that he’s particularly good at accompanying solo singers. I joined the Monroe church’s choir as soon as I started there as pastor in March, 2002. That little church had, and has, some remarkably good singers as members of the congregation. There are two particularly gifted sopranos. The choir never numbered more than about 12 while I was there, and it was often smaller than that. Yet somehow Keith got us to sound pretty good given the talent he had to work with.

Now, I found that I could mostly leave the selection of the choir music up to Keith, but occasionally I had to step in and say no. There were two problems I occasionally had to deal with. One was the theology of some of the choral pieces Keith chose. He chooses choir pieces that are very good musically but not always so good theologically. See, I’ve been preaching and writing against something called substitutionary sacrificial atonement theology for a very long time. That’s the theology that says that Jesus suffered and died in our place to pay the price that had to be paid to God so that God would forgive human sin. Ah, No! Ask me later if you want to know what’s wrong with it, for I know that most people think it is what Christianity is. In any event, Keith would sometimes give the choir a piece of music that was perfectly acceptable musically but had bad theology in it. I’d have to say to him, No, Keith. We’re not going to sing that. The theology is all wrong. Sometimes the problem went the other way. I remember one year I was planning an upbeat, joyous service for Easter Sunday. Keith gave the choir an Easter anthem that was theologically OK but that was slow, pensive, in a minor key. It might have been beautiful. I guess in its way it was. But I said, No, Keith. That doesn’t fit the service I’m planning. Mercifully, Keith always accepted my decisions gracefully.

I tell this story only to make a point. Psalm 98 calls us to “make a joyful noise to the Lord.” It calls us to “break forth into joyous song and sing praises.” Doing that authentically and well isn’t as easy as Psalm 98 makes it sound. At least, it’s not that easy for those of us who know something about both music and theology and take them seriously. What we sing has to be solid theologically. It’s tone and mood have to fit the worship service in which we sing it. Stephen of course knows all that, and I suppose all of you do. Still, I hope you appreciate the work that has to go into making not just a joyful noise but an appropriate one as well. Under Stephen’s direction, you all do that better than any church choir I’ve ever been in, or ever heard for that matter. When people ask me about Bellevue First Congregational the first thing I say is, Every Sunday you will hear world class music. We sing it in a sanctuary that has perfectly awful acoustics for the spoken voice but magnificent acoustics for music. That the congregation tolerates those acoustics speaks, I think, to how important sacred music is to the people of our church. I don’t think it’s possible to overstate that importance.

That’s because sacred music can convey the meaning of our faith more powerfully than the spoken word ever can. Yes, I preached nearly every Sunday for close to sixteen years. Good preaching is important, but music has a power that mere speaking never can have. They say the person who sings prays twice, once with the words and once with the music. Now, Psalm 98 don’t say make a joyful noise on the trombone. I suppose there were no trombones in ancient Israel. And, frankly, I never thought of the trombone as an instrument for sacred music until I started attending Bellevue First. But when our choir gets singing some joyous anthem with Stephen and his friends on the trombone and other brass instruments, what we produce is indeed the most powerful, moving, joyous noise to God I’ve ever heard.

Now, most if not all of you are better musicians and singers than I am. But here’s what I hope for you. And, to be honest, I’m saying this as much to myself as I am to you. Don’t get so caught up in the mechanics of singing that you miss the meaning of the music. Sometimes the music is joyful. Sometimes it is quiet and contemplative. Sometimes it’s about justice. Sometimes its about prayer. Music can express an endless variety of meanings and moods and do it far better than the best preacher ever can. Worship without good music is, for me, hardly worship at all. So I want to say thank you to all of you. You make worship at Bellevue First truly special. I hope you know how unusual a church choir you are. And I hope our music moves you and strengthens your faith as much as I’m sure it does for those who hear us out there in the congregation. May it be so. Amen.


Sunday, October 23, 2022

A Vision of the Church

 

A Vision of the Church

A Sermon from 1992

Slightly revised, October, 2022

Given again at Richmond Beach Congregational United Church of Christ

Shoreline, Washington

October 23, 2022

 

In 1992, thirty years ago now as hard as that is to believe, I was, as I told you last week, a practicing lawyer who had never had a thought about going to seminary and becoming a church pastor. My late wife Francie and I were members of this church at the time. One Sunday our pastor, Rev. Steve Hanning, whom some of you at least remember, was going to be away, and either he or someone else at the church asked me if I would preach that Sunday. I agreed. I gave a sermon with the title “Vision of the Church.” I recently rediscovered the text of that sermon and reread it. I thought it was really quite good, good enough to be worth giving again this morning. I thought, perhaps a sermon on what the church could be might be helpful to RBCC in their interim time. I have edited it a bit to reflect some of today’s realities. I also made a few other edits, but much of what I say here is exactly what I said thirty years ago. When I reread the sermon I thought, gee, I guess it was inevitable that I would end up going to seminary and becoming a pastor, which, as you know, I eventually did. This sermon certainly did not give me that thought back when I first gave it. So, for what it’s worth, here it is.

A Vision of the Church

In 1975 and 1976 Francie [my since deceased wife], our son Matt (who turned two while we were there and who is now Division Chief of Training for the Everett Fire Department), and I lived in what was then the Soviet Union while I was doing research for my PhD dissertation in Russian history. (Yes. I have one of those too. I go to school better than I do anything else.) The Soviet state was officially atheistic. The society it created was, in its outer, public aspect at least, bleak, humorless, largely hopeless, and oppressive in a way that it is difficult for most Americans to conceptualize. The official values of that society were entirely material. Outer conformity to standards of conduct and to a system of belief, Marxism-Leninism, was rigorously enforced by a system of secret police and secret informers, and any deviation from the imposed norm was punished, not so much during my time there by arrest and jail, thought that did happen, as by the withholding of career, housing, recreational, and other opportunities, the absence of which made life, already materially difficult in that country, even more difficult. Most Soviet citizens adopted a survival strategy of coldness, even rudeness, in public life that made the accomplishing of even routine daily tasks difficult and unpleasant. Although in private Russians could be the most gracious and engaging of hosts, daily life in the Soviet Union was depressing and oppressive in a way I had never experienced and could hardly have imagined before living there.

In that oppressive atmosphere, I was exposed to an alternative—actually the only intellectually consistent and comprehensive alternative to materialism available in the Western world then or for that matter now—religious faith. Francie, Matt, and I became regular attenders of the Anglo-American Church associated in those days with the American and British embassies in Moscow. The Church became for me a refuge from the materialism and despair of Soviet society. The contrast between the warmth and love expressed in the church and the coldness and meanness of Soviet life was overpowering. In the church, I came to see the humanizing and enabling power of faith in God in stark contrast to the dehumanizing and diminishing effect of faith in human beings under which the Soviet Union operated

What does any of this have to do with a vision of the church in contemporary America? I submit to you that the society in which we live is similar to the society of the now defunct Soviet Union in at least a few important ways. The problems we face aren’t identical to those the Soviet Union faced by any means. As flawed as our country is, it is nowhere near as oppressive as the Soviet Union was.  Nonetheless, we have more than enough of our own shortcomings. In our society—

·        People are valued for what they produce not for who they are.

·        Success is equated with wealth, and it doesn’t much matter how that wealth was acquired.

·        A times we  elect top national leadership which legitimizes racism by calling white supremacists fine people, failing to provide leadership for the continuation of the civil rights movement, and catering to bigotry in the guise of code words like law and order.

·        Bigotry based on sexual orientation and gender identity or expression still destroys families and blights the lives of millions of God’s people.

·        We tolerate the most gun violence in the industrialized world, and we refuse to enact the obviously needed ban of the assault-style weapons that massacre our schoolchildren and other innocent people, including people gathered for worship.

In short, we live in a society which falls so far short of its expressed ideals, so full of violence, so full of injustice that one is tempted to react with nothing but despair and a self-defensive apathy in the face of seemingly intractable problems.

What does any of this have to do with a vision of the church? I suggest to you that the church properly understood is the only institution that offers a viable alternative to the failings of the society in which we live. Only the church offers a consistent, intellectually honest, and spiritually satisfying belief system that answers the problems and vices of the world.

What does the church offer in response to the seemingly overwhelming problems of society? There are two major aspects to its response—a pastoral response and a prophetic response. On the pastoral level it offers refuge, comfort, and hope. Christianity teaches us above all else that God loves and accepts us as we are. That we don’t have to be perfect or even good to be saved. Church is a place where we can bring our cares and burdens and be assured of understanding and forgiveness. When life can be so overwhelming, we need more than ever the refuge and the assurance of ultimate forgiveness and acceptance that the church offers us when it is functioning as God calls it to function.

But if the church’s response to the world were merely pastoral, merely a place for us to go for comfort, it could and likely would deteriorate either into a narcissistic self-indulgence that would ultimately be spiritually damaging and irrelevant to the world or a country club with some Christian symbols attached. But Christianity, and the Judaism out of which it grew and with which it is so closely connected, when properly understood, do not stop with the pastoral response. We are the heirs of a great prophetic tradition going way back into Old Testament times. The ancient Hebrew prophets are important not because they predicted the future but because they spoke God’s message of justice for all, or at least many of them did. The saints of our spiritual tradition have for millennia called on the societies and states in which they lived to repent and to improve. Inspired by their understanding of the divine will, they have fearlessly challenged the powers of the world to live by the eternal truths in which they and we believe.

The church today is called perhaps as it has not been for many decades to continue that prophetic tradition. Our faith compels us to speak out against the evil we perceive. Our faith also empowers us to do it. We know that God will forgive our failures and our shortcomings. We know that ultimately the world can do nothing to harm us in terms of eternity. And we know that we can be true to ourselves and to our faith only by speaking out, by demanding that our leaders and our society as a whole turn away from the paths of violence and bigotry which they so often travel. Only the church has the great legacy and the great faith which empower it to be prophetic. If the church does not speak out for what is right, no one will.

Now the question arises of what I mean by the church. Obviously a great many churches do not stand for the kind of end to bigotry and violence I am talking about. Sadly, many churches are more a part of the problem than they are of the solution. Large, socially respectable Christian churches stand today for a subordinate status for women and for scripturally justified bigotry against God’s LGBTQ+ people. They preach an anti-intellectual and intellectually dishonest fundamentalism and offer a faith that is so self-centered that it loses all sense of social responsibility except for concern with a few narrow issues around which they preach the end of individual freedom and responsibility. They preach not the infinite vastness of God’s love for all people but a judgmental doctrine which requires not a life of faith and love but fear-based, rigid adherence to traditional life-styles and a restrictive morality that results in wide-spread misery and the alienation of huge numbers of people from the faith. Today, a great many of them identify Christian faith with American nationalism, something I find to be simply beyond comprehension.

What then is the proper vision of the Church? It is of a church that is true to its real self. A church that responds to the evils of society by spreading the priceless treasure of the good news of God’s love for all people, where all, regardless of their station in life, regardless of their sex, race, age, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression, or other distinguishing characteristics can come to know the love of God and the tremendous power of God’s forgiveness. And it is of a church that fearlessly and tirelessly calls our society to be true to itself, to its professed ideals, not to seek to impose Christianity on anyone but to offer to all the vision of life we have received from Jesus Christ, a life of love and forgiveness for all.

As a church and as individuals, myself included, we have been too timid in our prophetic mission. We have been too complacent and too comfortable. If the church is to be what it can and should be, we must more aggressively speak out for what we know to be true. Way back when I was a member here, this church took a good step in the right direction by adopting the open and affirming covenant by which you still live. (I was a member of the Open and Affirming Taskforce that led the church to adopt that covenant, something of which I still am quite proud.) We Christians must continue to speak out, and we Christians must do so more visibly. We must take to heart the message we profess to believe, that in Jesus Christ we are forgiven. In that forgiveness lies an infinite empowerment for good if we will only truly believe and act on it.

So as you go through this time of transition, I pray that you will continue to commit yourselves to making Christ’s church all that he would have it be—a refuge for our souls and a source of inspiration for good for all of society. May it be so. Amen.

Thursday, October 20, 2022

Letter to the Editor "The Crisis We Face"

 This is the text of a letter I sent to the editor of my local newspaper, the Everett Herald, of Everett Washington.

Today our country faces a political crisis more extreme than any it has faced since the Civil War over a century and a half ago. An anti-democratic movement has taken over the Republican Party. That movement’s leaders seek to destroy the rule of law so that they can impose their will on the country without legal obstacles in their way. They care only for power so they can accomplish that goal. Facts mean nothing to them or to their followers. They seek to impose their simplistic, bigoted views of gender identity and abortion on all Americans. They want to roll back the accomplishments of the Civil Rights Movement including in particular the Voting Rights Act of 1965. They want to repeal Medicare and Social Security, two federal insurance programs we all pay for and that make life better than it otherwise would be for millions of Americans, myself included. Their policies would take this country back to the nineteenth century world of the robber barons and Jim Crow segregation. Every American who values liberty, the US Constitution, and the rule of law should be greatly alarmed at the direction our politics are taking. Some of us are, but the Democratic Party is acting as though it were facing merely another ordinary election against the Republican Party the way it used to be. That is not what it is facing. It is facing a radicalized, anti-democratic, authoritarian, populist movement that threatens to overturn all of the core values this country has always said it holds. Unless the freedom-loving opposition to that movement gets more active and energized than it is, the political future of the United States is bleak indeed.


I Just Do Believe It

 

I Just Do Believe It

October 20, 2022

 

In the last two essays I have put on this blog, titled “I Just Don’t Believe It, Part One” and “I just Don’t Believe It, Part Two”, I disagreed with St. Paul’s statement at 1 Corinthians 15:3 that Jesus Christ died for our sins in accordance with the (Hebrew) scriptures. The more important part of that two part statement is Paul’s assertion that Jesus Christ died “for our sins.” In Part Two of “I Just Don’t Believe It” I took apart the two most common ways that Christians have understood that classic Christian confession. I suggested that there is another way of understanding the saving work of Christ. I will now attempt to explain that other way is as simply and briefly as I can.

The theology I accept is called “theology of the cross.” Theologians, always inclined to make things more complex than they need be, sometimes call it by its Latin name, theologia crusis. It has been what the preeminent contemporary theologian of the theory has called “a not much loved” part of the Christian tradition from the very beginning of the faith. It’s been there, but it has never been the main Christian soteriology. It is a bit unfortunate that all we have to call this theology is theology of the cross. After all, both ransom theory and the classical theory of atonement are theologies of the cross in that they posit explanations of the effect of the cross for humanity’s relationship with God. Theology of the cross is, however, what Martin Luther called the theology I will discuss here. It’s what theologians call it still today.

All soteriologies begin with an understanding of what it is that humans need to be saved from. In the dominant Christian soteriology, classical atonement theory, we need to be saved from the separation from God and God’s forgiving grace and the alleged consequences of that separation that supposedly results from human sin. Theology of the cross views the matter a bit differently. One of the foundational understandings of theology of the cross is that we are not actually separated from God and God’s grace at all. We aren’t, humanity never has been, and humanity never will be. That from which we need to be saved, then, isn’t separation from God, it is our belief that we are separated from God. We humans pervasively sense that something has broken the God-human relationship. In conventional soteriologies that something is sin. In theology of the cross what plays the role of sin in traditional soteriologies is the human conviction that we are separated from God. That conviction is not hard to understand. God, after all, hardly presents Godself to us with banners and trumpets the way some of us would like God to do. Mostly (though not always), we experience God as silent. Difficult life experiences can convince us that God stands far off rather than near us. Physical and emotional suffering often lead people to believe that God has deserted them.

Theology of the cross says no, God has never deserted anyone. So why does it so often seem to us that God has deserted us? Well, there are two sides to every personal relationship, and the relationship can appear to be different when viewed from one of the sides than it does when viewed from the other. The same is true of the God-human relationship. It is from our side of the relationship that it can seem that God has broken that relationship essentially by disappearing. Theology of the cross asserts that, viewed from God’s side of the relationship, the relationship is not broken at all, never has been, and never will be. For God, God’s relationship with humanity isn’t broken at all. The belief that it is broken is entirely of our own making.

So how and why do we convince ourselves that God is at least not with us and may not be real at all? It is, I think, because we misunderstand how it is that God is present to us. We want God to be obvious. We want God to be dramatic. We want God’s presence and involvement in whatever is going on in our lives to be unmistakable. Yet that is not how God works. It never has been. God does not overpower us. God works in our lives and in the world in much quieter, more subtle, and harder to discern ways. To discern the presence of God in our lives, most of the time, we have to be attentive. We have to be quiet. We have to leave a space for God to fill, and God never, or at least rarely, does that dramatically. God never, or at least rarely, does that noisily. We so want it to be otherwise. We don’t want to have to work at knowing God. We want God to appear and magically make things better in our lives, especially when we are suffering in some way. But as much as we may want it to be otherwise, it isn’t. It never has been. It never will be. Because God so rarely appears the way we want God to appear, we convince ourselves that God is not present with us at all. Many of us convince ourselves that God is not even real. Saving us from those beliefs is what God did in Jesus Christ. Or rather, it is one of two major things God did in Jesus Christ. The other was to show us in new and powerful ways God’s ways of love, peace, justice, mercy, forgiveness, and grace. It is, however, on the cross of Jesus that God most powerfully demonstrated that our relationship with God is not broken. Here’s how theology of the cross understands that truth.

Theology of the cross begins its explanation of the work of Jesus Christ with a full, enthusiastic acceptance of the traditional Christian doctrine of the Incarnation. We confess that God became fully incarnate in Jesus of Nazareth. When we hear Jesus say something (much of the time at least—we don’t turn off our critical faculties, and Jesus didn’t say everything the Gospels attribute to him) or see him do something (though he didn’t do all the things the Gospels say he did either), we hear or see not just him but God. In Jesus God entered fully into the experience of being human. God became one with a human being. In Jesus  God demonstrated presence and solidarity with humanity in general and with each person individually. The Gospel of Matthew calls Jesus Emmanuel, God With Us. That’s true, but in Jesus God is actually here as one of us. In Jesus as God the Son Incarnate we see how close God is to each and every one of us. We see that God is as close to us as it is possible for two beings to be. As much as we may convince ourselves that we are separate from God, God is showing us in the most direct way possible in Jesus that we truly are never separate from God.

OK, but we’re talking about theology of the cross not theology of the Incarnation. So what does the cross have to do with it? I’ll start to answer that question by asking another question. When do people feel most separated from God or even abandoned by God? It is often, I think, when they face or are in the midst of real suffering or when they know they are dying. Yes, some people have powerful experiences of God’s presence in those circumstances. My late first wife had one. I’ve had one too. But experiences like that are, I believe, uncommon. In any event, great suffering can make people believe God is nowhere to be found. Where, after all, was God in the Holocaust?[1]

The cross is central to theology of the cross because it is there that we see most clearly God’s presence and solidarity with us in the worst circumstances we can ever face. The Romans didn’t just kill Jesus.[2] They mocked him. They whipped him. Then they executed him in a particularly brutal way. They drove nails through his hands and feet to secure him to two crossed pieces of lumber. Then they stood this cross with Jesus nailed to it up where all could see it and left him there to die a slow, unspeakably horrible death. As he was suffering and dying on the cross Jesus, God Incarnate, experienced that sense of abandonment by God that so many of us humans sometimes feel. He cried out in anguish, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”[3] On the cross of Jesus even God believed that God had abandoned God.

Yes, of course that’s impossible, or rather, it is a paradox (and every truly profound truth is paradoxical). How can God feel abandoned by God? Theology of the cross embraces that paradox as one of the most profound of all truths. In Jesus’ cry of dereliction from the cross we hear that God has entered into the most horrific of human experiences. God isn’t separate from them. God doesn’t hold Godself above them free from their pain and anguish. God undergoes them, then God experiences the ultimate human experience. God dies. Yes, that too is a paradox, and yes, that too is one of the most profound of all truths.

For millennia Christians have tried to avoid the shocking conclusion that in Jesus God died. They’ve said Jesus’ human nature died but his divine nature didn’t. Theology of the cross will have none of that. Jürgen Moltmann, the leading modern exponent of this theology, titled his profound if difficult presentation of this theology The Crucified God. If God didn’t die in Jesus, then God has never experienced the last thing all of us humans experience, namely, death. If God didn’t die on the cross of Christ God’s experience of human life in Jesus was incomplete. Theology of the cross insists that God’s experience of human life in Jesus was and had to be complete. It had to be complete because of the foundational purpose of the Incarnation.

What is that purpose? It is to demonstrate to us in the most immediate way that God stands eternally in unshakable presence and solidarity with us in absolutely everything that happens to us. In Jesus of Nazareth as God Incarnate God shows us in a most powerful way that any sense we have of separation from God, in any aspect of our lives including suffering and death, is entirely of our own making. God shows us in Jesus that when we think God has abandoned us, we’re just wrong. God never abandons anyone. Ever. Period.

But I can hear you asking: How is theology of the cross a soteriology? What does it have to do with salvation? Well, in every soteriology salvation consists of overcoming human separation from God. An eternal, blissful life of the soul after death may be a consequence of salvation, but salvation is the overcoming of whatever it is that the soteriology believes separates people from God. For the ransom theory, salvation is our redemption from kidnapping by the devil. For the classical of atonement, salvation is God forgiving our sin because of the price Jesus paid to God on the cross. For theology of the cross, it is overcoming the notion that we are, ever were, or ever will be separate from God in the first place.

Unlike more traditional Christian soteriology, theology of the cross isn’t much concerned with our fate in an afterlife. It just says that God’s presence and solidarity with us don’t end when we die. It leaves the rest up to God. More significantly for theology of the cross, and for me, great benefits come to us in this life when we finally get it that we are never apart from God. We can be freed from whatever it is that is restricting our lives. We can have the courage to grasp the abundant life God wants all of us to have.[4] We can have the courage to be God’s representatives on earth, the courage to wage a nonviolent campaign for a world of justice, peace, and the affirmation of the value of every person that God wants for all of us. Our souls can be at peace, and our peaceful souls can help us release all the tension in our bodies that keeps us from the peace God offers us. All of that, and no doubt more, is salvation for the theology of the cross.

One final point. Is there a way in theology of the cross to understand that Jesus died “for our sins?” In a way yes, but it is a very different way than the more traditional Christian understandings of that phrase. Theology of the cross confesses that God Incarnate in Jesus lived, suffered, and died to show us that in reality nothing separates us from God. Sin, of course, is the main thing Christianity has said separates us from God or at least from God’s grace. The classical theory of atonement says that Jesus had to suffer and die before God would or even could forgive human sin. Theology of the cross doesn’t contend that Jesus had to die to procure God’s forgiveness of our sin. Rather, as incarnate in Jesus, God shows us that God has always forgiven human sin. All of it. Always. In Jesus as God Incarnate, we discover that, while human sin always has been, is, and always will be real, it has never, doesn’t, and never will separate us from God and God’s grace. We don’t need to do anything or have anything done before God will forgive our sin. God has already done that. Theology of the cross frees us not from sin, from which God has already done, but from the fear of eternal damnation that so much traditional Christianity engenders. That is how it is, in its way, a soteriology. That’s not what Paul meant by “died for our sins, but it is a powerful message of liberation for today’s world.



[1] This theology’s answer to that question is, on the trains, at the execution sights, in the camps, in the gas chambers. Though God is present with every person always, God is always on the side of the victims not the side of the perpetrators of great evil.

[2] The ancient Christian claim that the Jews killed him is a base canard. It is an historical falsehood. The Romans killed him not the Jews.

[3] Mark 15:34 and Matthew 27:46. Luke and John have Jesus saying much gentler things from the cross. Theology of the cross clings to his cry of dereliction in Mark and Matthew as more authentic and more theologically significant.

[4] John 10:10.