Shhh!
It's the big question some conservatives have started contemplating.
Contemplating in ponderous blog posts and whispers in private conversations.
Do we have to vote Republican this year? Would an Obama victory be as disastrous as we've been led to fear? Can America survive another four years of the Obama presidency until Republicans get their act together and run a slate of candidates who can beat Obama on the merits?
After all, the Republican Party has pretty much cratered this year, offering its faithful one of the worst slates of candidates from which to choose. Everybody knows it, although few prominent conservatives will admit it. Now that the primary race appears to be coalescing around Mitt and Newt - blatant clues to each of their characters - the bitter reality is beginning to sink in: can either of these guys win against the guy who captured Osama bin Laden?
Can either of these guys win against the guy with better morals than Newt, and the guy who is less elitist than Mitt?
We certainly don't want eight years of either of these two GOP guys, since if one of them lands the White House this year, we'll be forced to support him again in 2016.
Gulp!
Would 4 More Years of Obama Be Worse than 8 Years of Newt or Mitt?
So maybe four more years of Obama won't be as bad as a possible eight years of Mitt or Newt. After all, we've weathered these past four years; not well, mind you, but America has survived. Since none of the primary candidates wanted to remind voters of their GOP predecessor (George W. Bush, remember?) and the disappointment his eight years turned out to be, maybe we've pretty much admitted that at least some of the problems Obama has been dealing with during his first term were inherited. Think bank bailouts, auto industry bailouts, soaring unemployment, and two unwinable wars.
Bush inflated the government's payroll wildly, fumbled immigration reform, and foisted federal "no child left behind" standards onto local school districts - which has created the oppressive test-taking culture now crippling public school education. All Obama has done is simply fail to lead in much of anything, which is what Republicans generally hoped would happen. Sure, his inability to forge alliances, and fear of political compromise, sparked plenty of vitriol. He continued Bush's spending frenzy so our national debt continues to spiral out of control. And he pandered to his liberal constituency with some blatant left-wing ideology. But don't forget - he stunned leaders in his own party by ruling that teenaged girls should not have unfettered access to morning-after pills. If evangelical Christians didn't disdain him so much, they'd have thanked him effusively for that unexpected show of paternal bravado.
Not that Obama has been a good president. It's just that maybe he's not as bad as what we'd have to endure from our own so-called conservative kind. If they beat Obama this fall, neither Newt nor Mitt will win with significant political capital, as Bush himself found out even after he claimed he had in 2004. Those two guys have spilled so much political blood already in these early days of primary campaigning that their credibility as national leaders has likely been severely tarnished. We know Mitt has as much of a socialist bent as Obama when it comes to healthcare, and we know Newt has no loyalties when it comes to women or even politics, since he has as long a record of flip-flopping on major issues as Mitt does.
Believers Voting Democratic, and Why Blacks Who Are, Do
I'd seen a couple of online articles and blog posts about conservatives skipping this fall's presidential election, but hadn't really taken the question too seriously until a dear, long-time friend of mine posted a FaceBook link to a watch party for Obama's State of the Union speech this past Tuesday. My friend is a devout, born-again Christian, a devoted wife and mother of two, and black. And she's not my only black, born-again friend who supports Obama. What do such people whose only difference from me is their skin color see in somebody for whom I wouldn't otherwise be able to bring myself to vote?
Indeed, plenty of white evangelicals look at each other, dumbfounded, and ask, "how can anybody be a Christian and support a Democrat, let alone one who is pro-choice?"
Now obviously, I can't speak for an entire race, but I've been told in the past by two other die-hard Democrats - who are born-again Christians who happen to be black - that although abortion is the big deal-changer for most evangelical voters, it's not with them.
After all, what is it about abortion that makes it a deal-changer?
Life, right?
Well, what do Republican conservatives do to support life outside of the womb? They're crazy about protecting life inside the womb, but for socially-liberal believers who are members of a race which has received some pretty nasty treatment from whites for generations, life on either side of birth has equal challenges. Perhaps blacks aren't necessarily eager to become one-issue voters when that would mean they'd be supporting a political party that doesn't have the best track record when it comes to social supports. Generally speaking, some evangelical blacks who linger in the Democratic Party take issue with white evangelicals who refuses to acknowledge that some entitlement programs - the safety net disproportionately relied upon by minorities - have a greater validity than is popularly acknowledged.
Personally, I believe that entitlements like welfare, public housing, and other government programs need significant overhauling to make them serve their clients better, and encourage their clients to be more responsible for their own lives. But many Republicans talk as though welfare and public housing need to be completely abolished, even though such a mindset betrays more an ignorance about the value of social safety nets than the tough-love compassion - or even a fiscal prudence - that right-wing blowhards like Rush Limbaugh like to parrot.
After all, the Bible has volumes more to say about looking after the poor, being lavish towards others with the money God gives us, being fair, and refuting racism than it does about abortion, a word that's actually never mentioned in the scriptures. Abortion has become a political machination to cover for moral turpitude, more a symptom of societal decay than the cause of it. Perhaps that sounds like rationalizing away the pro-choice platform of the Democratic party believers who vote Democratic tacitly endorse. But if abortion is hatred for life, hating people on this side of the womb is equally heinous to God, since He equates such sin to murder.
And maybe white folk like me just don't understand how proud blacks are to have Obama in the White House. I'll be honest with you - even though I didn't vote for him, on his inauguration day, I was proud that the United States had finally - at least symbolically - broken the race barrier in the Oval Office. It was just too bad the person was a liberal, instead of a conservative.
Uneasy Lies the Head that Has to Vote
However, with all due respect to my believing friends who are as saved as I am, and with whom all of us Elect will be spending eternity, I would far prefer having a proven fiscal and social conservative on the Republican ticket this fall. Although things are bad in the GOP field, I consider it highly unlikely that the situation would ever become dire enough for me to vote for President Obama directly, even though a vote for either Mitt or Newt might have the same effect.
I simply think it's a testament to the deep dissatisfaction - and even, raw disappointment - that is growing among Republicans that talk of waiting out yet another term of somebody who's supposed to be the opposition is even seeing the light of day.
Right now, let's just not even think about having to endure eight years of Mitt or Newt. Might waiting to see if a better selection of candidates can be found for 2016 actually be in the best long-term interests of the GOP, even if there's some short-term pain?
Can you actually win by losing an election? The fact that other people - not me! - have already started asking that question means the answer is not as clear as it should be.
_____
Update: Click here to read my follow-up on this subject.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Right-Wing Duplicity Fouls the Air
Environmental regulations.
They're onerous, big-government, job-killing, left-wing farcical drivel.
Unless, apparently, they're not.
Many right-wing conservatives talk a big talk against environmental regulations. Indeed, protecting the environment is code-language for stealth commie-pinko anti-disestablishmentarianism.
Environmental regulations are killing American productivity. Or so these right-wingers claim. They fight to protect industrial polluters in places like Midlothian, Texas, for example, home to several smog-belching concrete plants. Concrete plants about which people have been complaining for years, since they contribute significantly to the air pollution with which north Texas increasingly suffers.
Yet for as long as people have been trying to force them to move to a far less populated corner of the state, these concrete plants have enjoyed fierce protection from their local Republican congressman, the ultra-conservative Joe Barton.
Midlothian is south of Dallas, a smallish blue-collar town of middle-class tract homes, fast-food restaurants, and truck stops. Relatively conservative, mostly white, but hardly affluent, it's a far cry from the suburbs north of Dallas, and cities like Frisco, which hardly even existed ten years ago.
Ahh, yes: Frisco, Texas.
Today, Frisco lies on the outer bands of north Dallas' exurban halo, boasting an upscale white-collar lifestyle with high-priced restaurants, exclusive shopping, sleek corporate campuses, and sprawling gated communities choked with luxurious McMansions and foreign luxury cars.
All very white, very affluent, and very Republican. All built around a little battery recycling plant which used to be on the outskirts of town. Back when Frisco was just another hick village stuck out in the dusty Texas prairie.
But for all of the so-called egregious environmental rules that conservatives have managed to skirt for the concrete plants south of Dallas, conservative voters in Frisco have suddenly found value in them, hurling those same rules against the little battery plant in Frisco. They want that battery plant gone. It's contaminating the environment. And destroying their quality of life.
Battles like this illustrate why conservatives have a hard time mustering credibility when it comes to the environment in general, and pollution in particular.
Exide Technologies built their battery recycling plant back in 1965 on a plot of land several blocks south of Frisco's placid Main Street. Since then, thousands of people have moved to Frisco, and they've decided Exide isn't a good enough neighbor in a community now boasting seven-figure homes. A neighborhood group calling itself "Get the Lead Out of Frisco" has begun agitating for Exide to shut down its operations in town.
Frankly, Exide's Frisco plant has been listed as one of the 16 top lead polluters in the nation, but its existence was no secret when developers started plowing under Frisco's old farms for new subdivisions. It's a classic case of poor research by homebuyers, many of whom seem to have been caught off-guard by learning they've moved near a four-decades-old industrial polluter.
This past January 17th, Frisco's city council voted unanimously to begin the process of revoking the permits Exide needs to operate the plant. For their part, Exide is expected to mount a vigorous lawsuit to keep its plant operational in Frisco. If the plant is forced to shut down, about 135 jobs would be lost.
Either way, it will likely be years before Exide's fate is decided. Although their Frisco facility isn't very large, it's part of a large enterprise with operations in 80 countries. Frisco may have its state senator in its corner, the powerful Republican Florence Shapiro, but Exide has plenty of political influence itself - plus some pretty deep pockets. It's not acting like it's going anywhere, even stating that it will continue to modernize the Frisco plant and introduce new environmental safeguards as if everything is business as normal.
That's not what Frisco wants to hear. But it's similar to what Midlothian residents have been hearing for years. In October of last year, Republicans in the House of Representatives voted to further delay new regulations for cement kilns based principally on Republican Representative Barton's unwavering loyalty to the cement manufacturers in his district south of Dallas County. Although some perfunctory improvements to reduce industrial emissions have been made at Midlothian's three mammoth concrete plants over the years, they've failed to significantly maximize the available technology that can minimize pollution.
Air quality studies in Midlothian consistently affirm that pollution is at safe levels, although environmentalists and some experts say the tests are flawed. Republicans like pointing to such bickering as proof that the fuss over cement kiln pollution is exaggerated, but up in Frisco, the lead pollution is only significantly detectable within a one-mile radius of the plant, above land mostly owned by Exide. So why the fuss in Frisco?
This is where the double-standard in conservative politics rears its ugly head. Why is it that the poorer, blue-collar environs of Midlothian get snubbed when it comes to questioning the pollution belched out by three enormous cement manufacturers, while the far richer, white-collar exurb of Frisco feels entitled to run out of town one of the area's long-term employers?
Surely capitalism should be allowed unfettered reign wherever it's planted in the Lone Star State. Wasn't that one of Governor Rick Perry's presidential campaign themes?
Or, might environmental regulations simply be onerous... until they become a convenient tool for one's political base? If it wasn't for government-mandated environmental regulations, Frisco wouldn't have a case. And without those regulations, Midlothian still doesn't have one.
Either way, Republicans lose credibility on an issue that should be important to us all:
Clean air.
_____
Update: Frisco's new residents got their way: the Exide plant officially closed on Friday, November 30, 2012.
They're onerous, big-government, job-killing, left-wing farcical drivel.
Unless, apparently, they're not.
Many right-wing conservatives talk a big talk against environmental regulations. Indeed, protecting the environment is code-language for stealth commie-pinko anti-disestablishmentarianism.
Environmental regulations are killing American productivity. Or so these right-wingers claim. They fight to protect industrial polluters in places like Midlothian, Texas, for example, home to several smog-belching concrete plants. Concrete plants about which people have been complaining for years, since they contribute significantly to the air pollution with which north Texas increasingly suffers.
Yet for as long as people have been trying to force them to move to a far less populated corner of the state, these concrete plants have enjoyed fierce protection from their local Republican congressman, the ultra-conservative Joe Barton.
Midlothian is south of Dallas, a smallish blue-collar town of middle-class tract homes, fast-food restaurants, and truck stops. Relatively conservative, mostly white, but hardly affluent, it's a far cry from the suburbs north of Dallas, and cities like Frisco, which hardly even existed ten years ago.
Ahh, yes: Frisco, Texas.
Today, Frisco lies on the outer bands of north Dallas' exurban halo, boasting an upscale white-collar lifestyle with high-priced restaurants, exclusive shopping, sleek corporate campuses, and sprawling gated communities choked with luxurious McMansions and foreign luxury cars.
All very white, very affluent, and very Republican. All built around a little battery recycling plant which used to be on the outskirts of town. Back when Frisco was just another hick village stuck out in the dusty Texas prairie.
But for all of the so-called egregious environmental rules that conservatives have managed to skirt for the concrete plants south of Dallas, conservative voters in Frisco have suddenly found value in them, hurling those same rules against the little battery plant in Frisco. They want that battery plant gone. It's contaminating the environment. And destroying their quality of life.
Battles like this illustrate why conservatives have a hard time mustering credibility when it comes to the environment in general, and pollution in particular.
Exide Technologies built their battery recycling plant back in 1965 on a plot of land several blocks south of Frisco's placid Main Street. Since then, thousands of people have moved to Frisco, and they've decided Exide isn't a good enough neighbor in a community now boasting seven-figure homes. A neighborhood group calling itself "Get the Lead Out of Frisco" has begun agitating for Exide to shut down its operations in town.
Frankly, Exide's Frisco plant has been listed as one of the 16 top lead polluters in the nation, but its existence was no secret when developers started plowing under Frisco's old farms for new subdivisions. It's a classic case of poor research by homebuyers, many of whom seem to have been caught off-guard by learning they've moved near a four-decades-old industrial polluter.
This past January 17th, Frisco's city council voted unanimously to begin the process of revoking the permits Exide needs to operate the plant. For their part, Exide is expected to mount a vigorous lawsuit to keep its plant operational in Frisco. If the plant is forced to shut down, about 135 jobs would be lost.
Either way, it will likely be years before Exide's fate is decided. Although their Frisco facility isn't very large, it's part of a large enterprise with operations in 80 countries. Frisco may have its state senator in its corner, the powerful Republican Florence Shapiro, but Exide has plenty of political influence itself - plus some pretty deep pockets. It's not acting like it's going anywhere, even stating that it will continue to modernize the Frisco plant and introduce new environmental safeguards as if everything is business as normal.
That's not what Frisco wants to hear. But it's similar to what Midlothian residents have been hearing for years. In October of last year, Republicans in the House of Representatives voted to further delay new regulations for cement kilns based principally on Republican Representative Barton's unwavering loyalty to the cement manufacturers in his district south of Dallas County. Although some perfunctory improvements to reduce industrial emissions have been made at Midlothian's three mammoth concrete plants over the years, they've failed to significantly maximize the available technology that can minimize pollution.
Air quality studies in Midlothian consistently affirm that pollution is at safe levels, although environmentalists and some experts say the tests are flawed. Republicans like pointing to such bickering as proof that the fuss over cement kiln pollution is exaggerated, but up in Frisco, the lead pollution is only significantly detectable within a one-mile radius of the plant, above land mostly owned by Exide. So why the fuss in Frisco?
This is where the double-standard in conservative politics rears its ugly head. Why is it that the poorer, blue-collar environs of Midlothian get snubbed when it comes to questioning the pollution belched out by three enormous cement manufacturers, while the far richer, white-collar exurb of Frisco feels entitled to run out of town one of the area's long-term employers?
Surely capitalism should be allowed unfettered reign wherever it's planted in the Lone Star State. Wasn't that one of Governor Rick Perry's presidential campaign themes?
Or, might environmental regulations simply be onerous... until they become a convenient tool for one's political base? If it wasn't for government-mandated environmental regulations, Frisco wouldn't have a case. And without those regulations, Midlothian still doesn't have one.
Either way, Republicans lose credibility on an issue that should be important to us all:
Clean air.
_____
Update: Frisco's new residents got their way: the Exide plant officially closed on Friday, November 30, 2012.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Works Show God's Work
Do your deeds prove your faith?
If you'd asked me that question before I'd had my devotions this morning, I'd have likely retorted, "I'm saved by grace, not works."
But that's not what the apostle Paul is saying when he explains to King Agrippa in Acts 26:20 that Jews and Gentiles "should repent and turn to God and prove their repentance by their deeds."
If you don't like how the NIV translates that verse, here are a couple of other takes on it:
From the American Standard Version: "...they should repent and turn to God, doing works worthy of repentance."
From the English Standard Version: "they should repent and turn to God, performing deeds in keeping with their repentance."
And from the New Century Version: "they should change their hearts and lives and turn to God and do things to show they really had changed."
Hmm... what do I do that shows I've really been born-again? What do you do?
From Darkness to Light
Remember, Paul isn't saying that people are saved by the things they do - or don't do. We've got to take this verse in context, like we should do with every verse in the Bible, and not just hang it up on a clothesline like a damp shirt and treat it as some singular directive.
Paul is in Caesarea, explaining to King Agrippa why the Jews want him dead. The apostle recounts his bizarre conversion experience on the Road to Damascus, and summarizes how, since then, he's been preaching the Gospel to both Jews and Gentiles. In verse 18, Paul explains that God would work through him, in His own words, "'to open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me.'"
Wow - so it gets even heavier. Not only are we to perform deeds in keeping with repentance, but those deeds should reflect how we've been turned from darkness to light.
How do I make that leap? By following simple grammatical correlations between the work that God does within all whom He saves (opening their eyes and turning them from darkness to light) in verse 18, and then how that work is manifested in the daily lives of believers (doing works worthy of repentance) in verse 20. The works we're to do follow, not precede, the salvific work God does in us. So, relax: Paul's teaching is completely in accordance with orthodox Christianity: we are not saved through works.
How Works Work
But works help show that we're saved.
It's a concept a lot of modern believers don't appear comfortable embracing. I don't know - maybe we've never wholeheartedly liked the idea that our daily actions should mirror the change from darkness to light that we say we celebrate in church on Sundays. A lot of us actually like the dark side. It's fun, so we think, or have been led to believe. Besides, we don't need to prove we're saved; otherwise, we risk being legalistic.
But is Paul saying we prove we're saved by doing good works, or that good works are a natural outflow of a life changed from darkness to light? The organic goodness that emanates from our actions, and indeed our motives, should tell other people that we don't walk in darkness.
I'm reminded of that famous passage in Ephesians 2:10, where Paul explains that we're "created in Christ Jesus to do good works." Unfortunately, it's at this point where legalists come in, and start structuring a matrix of do's and don't's to which we people of faith must adhere. The more we grow in our faith, however, I think the less concerned we become about lists and do's and don't's, and more on why's and why not's.
Why? Because we love God and want to honor Him.
I suspect the more we live with that perspective, the things we do will show we really have been changed. Changed not through our actions. But that because of what Christ has done for us, we allow the Holy Spirit to guide us in behaviors characteristic of light, rather than darkness.
Perhaps the more we resist that concept, people living in darkness around us will be less able to determine why our faith matters to us.
If, in fact, we truly possess the faith we claim to.
Without Fault in a Depraved Generation
Remember where, in Philippians 2, the apostle Paul exhorts us to "work out our salvation with fear and trembling?" Here's his exact quote, starting in verse 12:
"...Continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, 13 for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose. 14 Do everything without complaining or arguing, 15 so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe..."
Here again, Paul isn't saying that salvation rests on what we can do for God. Rather, he's describing the process of sanctification as people of faith allowing the Holy Spirit to continually mold themselves into the saints He wants them to be. Still, we're to be God's children, "without fault in a crooked and depraved generation."
And then Paul revisits the imagery of light he used with King Agrippa, calling for us to "shine like stars in the universe." Stars whose light, which is the reflection of the Son, pops out into our sight against the blackness of space's void.
May God help us to shine for Him in all we do.
So even our works testify of God's work in our lives.
_____
If you'd asked me that question before I'd had my devotions this morning, I'd have likely retorted, "I'm saved by grace, not works."
But that's not what the apostle Paul is saying when he explains to King Agrippa in Acts 26:20 that Jews and Gentiles "should repent and turn to God and prove their repentance by their deeds."
If you don't like how the NIV translates that verse, here are a couple of other takes on it:
From the American Standard Version: "...they should repent and turn to God, doing works worthy of repentance."
From the English Standard Version: "they should repent and turn to God, performing deeds in keeping with their repentance."
And from the New Century Version: "they should change their hearts and lives and turn to God and do things to show they really had changed."
Hmm... what do I do that shows I've really been born-again? What do you do?
From Darkness to Light
Remember, Paul isn't saying that people are saved by the things they do - or don't do. We've got to take this verse in context, like we should do with every verse in the Bible, and not just hang it up on a clothesline like a damp shirt and treat it as some singular directive.
Paul is in Caesarea, explaining to King Agrippa why the Jews want him dead. The apostle recounts his bizarre conversion experience on the Road to Damascus, and summarizes how, since then, he's been preaching the Gospel to both Jews and Gentiles. In verse 18, Paul explains that God would work through him, in His own words, "'to open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me.'"
Wow - so it gets even heavier. Not only are we to perform deeds in keeping with repentance, but those deeds should reflect how we've been turned from darkness to light.
How do I make that leap? By following simple grammatical correlations between the work that God does within all whom He saves (opening their eyes and turning them from darkness to light) in verse 18, and then how that work is manifested in the daily lives of believers (doing works worthy of repentance) in verse 20. The works we're to do follow, not precede, the salvific work God does in us. So, relax: Paul's teaching is completely in accordance with orthodox Christianity: we are not saved through works.
How Works Work
But works help show that we're saved.
It's a concept a lot of modern believers don't appear comfortable embracing. I don't know - maybe we've never wholeheartedly liked the idea that our daily actions should mirror the change from darkness to light that we say we celebrate in church on Sundays. A lot of us actually like the dark side. It's fun, so we think, or have been led to believe. Besides, we don't need to prove we're saved; otherwise, we risk being legalistic.
But is Paul saying we prove we're saved by doing good works, or that good works are a natural outflow of a life changed from darkness to light? The organic goodness that emanates from our actions, and indeed our motives, should tell other people that we don't walk in darkness.
I'm reminded of that famous passage in Ephesians 2:10, where Paul explains that we're "created in Christ Jesus to do good works." Unfortunately, it's at this point where legalists come in, and start structuring a matrix of do's and don't's to which we people of faith must adhere. The more we grow in our faith, however, I think the less concerned we become about lists and do's and don't's, and more on why's and why not's.
Why? Because we love God and want to honor Him.
I suspect the more we live with that perspective, the things we do will show we really have been changed. Changed not through our actions. But that because of what Christ has done for us, we allow the Holy Spirit to guide us in behaviors characteristic of light, rather than darkness.
Perhaps the more we resist that concept, people living in darkness around us will be less able to determine why our faith matters to us.
If, in fact, we truly possess the faith we claim to.
Without Fault in a Depraved Generation
Remember where, in Philippians 2, the apostle Paul exhorts us to "work out our salvation with fear and trembling?" Here's his exact quote, starting in verse 12:
"...Continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, 13 for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose. 14 Do everything without complaining or arguing, 15 so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe..."
Here again, Paul isn't saying that salvation rests on what we can do for God. Rather, he's describing the process of sanctification as people of faith allowing the Holy Spirit to continually mold themselves into the saints He wants them to be. Still, we're to be God's children, "without fault in a crooked and depraved generation."
And then Paul revisits the imagery of light he used with King Agrippa, calling for us to "shine like stars in the universe." Stars whose light, which is the reflection of the Son, pops out into our sight against the blackness of space's void.
May God help us to shine for Him in all we do.
So even our works testify of God's work in our lives.
_____
Monday, January 23, 2012
What Paterno Avoided Became His Epitaph
"Man, that was quick."
As America responded to the passing yesterday of legendary college football coach Joe Paterno, this seemed to sum up the general theme.
He'd only been diagnosed with lung cancer this past November. He'd only been fired from his historic position at Penn State literally days before that.
Back then, the country was still reeling from news about his former assistant coach, Jerry Sandusky. Accusations of child molestation, a 50-count indictment, and lurid testimony from a fellow coach about a horrific shower scene he stumbled upon involving Sandusky and a young boy.
All in a football program whose motto, zealously crafted and guarded by Paterno himself, was "victory with honor."
After a 46-season career, building all of Penn State - not just its football program - into a national powerhouse, everything for the 85-year-old icon seemed to implode within a matter of days. And now, merely three months later, Paterno is dead. Yet another victim of lung cancer. And probably a broken heart.
When Good Men Do Almost Nothing...
Officially, Paterno was never charged with any crime. He had no clue about Sandusky's alleged pattern of child abuse until Mike McQueary, who witnessed the despicable shower episode, went to him with the news. Paterno acted within the the requirements of Pennsylvania law - if not the spirit of ethical accountability - by simply reporting McQueary's testimony to his own superiors at Penn State. He did nothing more about the matter, even though he could have.
Couldn't he? Paterno wielded significant influence and authority at Penn State. One would think that a man as devoted to his family, personal morality, community pride, and the school's honor as Paterno was would be as eager to make sure justice was secured regarding one of his former coaches as he was promoting the school's athletic and scholastic integrity. Why didn't he, then, either confront Sandusky himself, or repeatedly pressure the school's senior administrators to do so? Even if he didn't want to get personally entangled in the process, he would be excused for allowing the chain of command at such a large organization to deal with such accusations, if for no other reason than to legally protect both one's own self and the organization as a whole. Indeed, the administrators who should have pursued the allegations against Sandusky didn't, and they've been rightfully charged with crimes. But by all accounts - including Paterno's - he made a perfunctory, obligatory report, and never revisited anything related to McCreary's account ever again.
What may to him have seemed a satisfactory response at the time proved to be his own undoing. Because even though it wasn't illegal for Paterno to shrug off McCreary's report, one would hope that a person as responsible for the welfare of young people as a college football coach is supposed to be would have had the same zero-tolerance for disreputableness among his coaching staff as among his players. When Paterno was fired, it wasn't because he had broken any laws, it was because people were so incredulous that he could literally pretend the accusations against Sandusky in no way affected him.
Just over a week ago, on January 14, the Washington Post published an exclusive interview Paterno gave to Post reporter Sally Jenkins, in which the cancer-stricken, wheelchair-bound former coach provided some insight as to how he could assume such a thing. Both he and McQueary have admitted that the account McQueary shared with him wasn't as graphic as what McQueary would later tell a grand jury convened to bring charges against Sandusky.
"You know, [McQueary] didn't want to get specific," a contrite Paterno recalled about the conversation they had regarding the Sandusky shower. "And to be frank with you, I don't know that it would have done any good, because I never heard of, of, rape and a man. So I just did what I thought was best. I talked to people that I thought would be, if there was a problem, that would be following up on it."
By all accounts, Paterno is an old-fashioned Italian when it comes to matters of personal intimacy. And, sure, there's nothing wrong with living a life in which you try to remain distanced from sordid tales of social dysfunction. But Paterno was a college football coach at a major institution, and it was part of his responsibility to know about factors that could impact the kids he coached. And that includes what his coaches were doing to other kids.
It Takes the Diligence of a Village
Undoubtedly, Penn State provided seminars to staff members on recognizing, reporting, and preventing child abuse. Every large school conducts these programs not only at the behest of their insurance companies and human resource departments, but out of sheer desire to protect those who may not be able to protect themselves. There's no way Paterno was not aware of the existence of child predators in society, and the abuse of power over kids by authority figures, even if such topics sent shivers up his spine whenever mentioned within earshot. Such topics should rightly send shivers up anybody's spine, but that doesn't mean you pretend they don't exist.
Yet how many of us do the same thing in our own spheres of influence? For example, how many of us scoff at church rules down in the childrens ministry areas designed to prevent unauthorized people from interacting with kids? When I worked at a large church in the 1990's, at the dawn of modern child protection systems in large churches, it wasn't uncommon to have an unauthorized adult pitch a fit when they were refused access to a specific area, or told they couldn't sign-out a child because the parent who checked-in the child hadn't approved it.
If you're really interested in protecting your child, you'll follow the rules. And if the rules don't make sense, then work with whomever's in charge to fix them. More than likely, however, it's not the rules that are as onerous in these cases as are the parents.
One time, a parent involved in a heated custody battle after a protracted divorce fight tried to claim their child against the wishes of the other parent. Thankfully, the person manning the discharge desk enforced the church's policy, and likely prevented the child from being abducted by the unauthorized parent.
I didn't work in the childrens ministry, so I didn't witness any of these situations first-hand. I worked in the accounting office, and the only reason I heard about these problems was because parents complained to the church administration when they couldn't fudge the rules to benefit themselves... more often than not, to the detriment of child safety.
Now, obviously, rules imposed by churches and other organizations entrusted with the care of children are only as good as their logic and enforceability. Stupid rules don't necessarily keep anybody safe, because of the irresistible temptation to ignore them. And unenforced rules might just as well not exist at all.
But these are conversations that organizations need to have, regardless of the comfort level among affected parties. The aloof Paterno-esque disposition that likes to pretend such crimes never happen cannot coexist with reality. And even people of such mythic or idolized status as Joe Paterno cannot be held in such demagogic esteem that raw testimony such as McCreary's cannot be shared, however uncomfortably, with them. Paterno could have even asked McCreary to follow-up on the incident if he was too baffled by it himself.
As we all now know, McCreary did Paterno no favors by not being completely descriptive with what he saw. And neither one of them did the victims in this situation any favors, either. Whether the victims are the boys who've made allegations against Sandusky, or even Sandusky himself, who may yet be innocent of these allegations, no matter how unlikely that may currently appear.
Don't Walk Through Life Wearing Blinders
If Paterno's fall from grace teaches us anything, it is that if a person was ever able to march through their chosen career or life walk, doing whatever they wanted to do without allowing themselves to get bogged-down in the nitty-gritty dirty ancillary work involved with responsibility and accountability, you can't live that way any longer. These days, all of us need to be aware of things happening around us. If something is brought to our attention, even an unsubstantiated allegation involving possible harm to somebody else, we need to at least stop and make sure we do what we can to remediate the situation.
Apparently, Paterno wanted to coach, and that's all. Unfortunately, he neglected to realize that coaching is much more than teaching kids how to excel in the mechanics of football. It's nice - albeit quaint - that he was held in such high regard by his assistant coaches that McCreary apparently thought it would disrespectfully embarrass Paterno if he told him everything he saw. But nice and quaint don't cut it anymore when we're talking about child abuse. Nice and quaint isn't the world in which we live.
Yes, the response, "well, that was quick" may have been the first thing people thought of upon hearing of Paterno's passing yesterday.
But then, "it's just so sad" pretty much sums up the rest of everyone's reaction.
So sad, because for Paterno's legacy at least, it's an epitaph that didn't have to be.
So sad.
_____
As America responded to the passing yesterday of legendary college football coach Joe Paterno, this seemed to sum up the general theme.
He'd only been diagnosed with lung cancer this past November. He'd only been fired from his historic position at Penn State literally days before that.
Back then, the country was still reeling from news about his former assistant coach, Jerry Sandusky. Accusations of child molestation, a 50-count indictment, and lurid testimony from a fellow coach about a horrific shower scene he stumbled upon involving Sandusky and a young boy.
All in a football program whose motto, zealously crafted and guarded by Paterno himself, was "victory with honor."
After a 46-season career, building all of Penn State - not just its football program - into a national powerhouse, everything for the 85-year-old icon seemed to implode within a matter of days. And now, merely three months later, Paterno is dead. Yet another victim of lung cancer. And probably a broken heart.
When Good Men Do Almost Nothing...
Officially, Paterno was never charged with any crime. He had no clue about Sandusky's alleged pattern of child abuse until Mike McQueary, who witnessed the despicable shower episode, went to him with the news. Paterno acted within the the requirements of Pennsylvania law - if not the spirit of ethical accountability - by simply reporting McQueary's testimony to his own superiors at Penn State. He did nothing more about the matter, even though he could have.
Couldn't he? Paterno wielded significant influence and authority at Penn State. One would think that a man as devoted to his family, personal morality, community pride, and the school's honor as Paterno was would be as eager to make sure justice was secured regarding one of his former coaches as he was promoting the school's athletic and scholastic integrity. Why didn't he, then, either confront Sandusky himself, or repeatedly pressure the school's senior administrators to do so? Even if he didn't want to get personally entangled in the process, he would be excused for allowing the chain of command at such a large organization to deal with such accusations, if for no other reason than to legally protect both one's own self and the organization as a whole. Indeed, the administrators who should have pursued the allegations against Sandusky didn't, and they've been rightfully charged with crimes. But by all accounts - including Paterno's - he made a perfunctory, obligatory report, and never revisited anything related to McCreary's account ever again.
What may to him have seemed a satisfactory response at the time proved to be his own undoing. Because even though it wasn't illegal for Paterno to shrug off McCreary's report, one would hope that a person as responsible for the welfare of young people as a college football coach is supposed to be would have had the same zero-tolerance for disreputableness among his coaching staff as among his players. When Paterno was fired, it wasn't because he had broken any laws, it was because people were so incredulous that he could literally pretend the accusations against Sandusky in no way affected him.
Just over a week ago, on January 14, the Washington Post published an exclusive interview Paterno gave to Post reporter Sally Jenkins, in which the cancer-stricken, wheelchair-bound former coach provided some insight as to how he could assume such a thing. Both he and McQueary have admitted that the account McQueary shared with him wasn't as graphic as what McQueary would later tell a grand jury convened to bring charges against Sandusky.
"You know, [McQueary] didn't want to get specific," a contrite Paterno recalled about the conversation they had regarding the Sandusky shower. "And to be frank with you, I don't know that it would have done any good, because I never heard of, of, rape and a man. So I just did what I thought was best. I talked to people that I thought would be, if there was a problem, that would be following up on it."
By all accounts, Paterno is an old-fashioned Italian when it comes to matters of personal intimacy. And, sure, there's nothing wrong with living a life in which you try to remain distanced from sordid tales of social dysfunction. But Paterno was a college football coach at a major institution, and it was part of his responsibility to know about factors that could impact the kids he coached. And that includes what his coaches were doing to other kids.
It Takes the Diligence of a Village
Undoubtedly, Penn State provided seminars to staff members on recognizing, reporting, and preventing child abuse. Every large school conducts these programs not only at the behest of their insurance companies and human resource departments, but out of sheer desire to protect those who may not be able to protect themselves. There's no way Paterno was not aware of the existence of child predators in society, and the abuse of power over kids by authority figures, even if such topics sent shivers up his spine whenever mentioned within earshot. Such topics should rightly send shivers up anybody's spine, but that doesn't mean you pretend they don't exist.
Yet how many of us do the same thing in our own spheres of influence? For example, how many of us scoff at church rules down in the childrens ministry areas designed to prevent unauthorized people from interacting with kids? When I worked at a large church in the 1990's, at the dawn of modern child protection systems in large churches, it wasn't uncommon to have an unauthorized adult pitch a fit when they were refused access to a specific area, or told they couldn't sign-out a child because the parent who checked-in the child hadn't approved it.
If you're really interested in protecting your child, you'll follow the rules. And if the rules don't make sense, then work with whomever's in charge to fix them. More than likely, however, it's not the rules that are as onerous in these cases as are the parents.
One time, a parent involved in a heated custody battle after a protracted divorce fight tried to claim their child against the wishes of the other parent. Thankfully, the person manning the discharge desk enforced the church's policy, and likely prevented the child from being abducted by the unauthorized parent.
I didn't work in the childrens ministry, so I didn't witness any of these situations first-hand. I worked in the accounting office, and the only reason I heard about these problems was because parents complained to the church administration when they couldn't fudge the rules to benefit themselves... more often than not, to the detriment of child safety.
Now, obviously, rules imposed by churches and other organizations entrusted with the care of children are only as good as their logic and enforceability. Stupid rules don't necessarily keep anybody safe, because of the irresistible temptation to ignore them. And unenforced rules might just as well not exist at all.
But these are conversations that organizations need to have, regardless of the comfort level among affected parties. The aloof Paterno-esque disposition that likes to pretend such crimes never happen cannot coexist with reality. And even people of such mythic or idolized status as Joe Paterno cannot be held in such demagogic esteem that raw testimony such as McCreary's cannot be shared, however uncomfortably, with them. Paterno could have even asked McCreary to follow-up on the incident if he was too baffled by it himself.
As we all now know, McCreary did Paterno no favors by not being completely descriptive with what he saw. And neither one of them did the victims in this situation any favors, either. Whether the victims are the boys who've made allegations against Sandusky, or even Sandusky himself, who may yet be innocent of these allegations, no matter how unlikely that may currently appear.
Don't Walk Through Life Wearing Blinders
If Paterno's fall from grace teaches us anything, it is that if a person was ever able to march through their chosen career or life walk, doing whatever they wanted to do without allowing themselves to get bogged-down in the nitty-gritty dirty ancillary work involved with responsibility and accountability, you can't live that way any longer. These days, all of us need to be aware of things happening around us. If something is brought to our attention, even an unsubstantiated allegation involving possible harm to somebody else, we need to at least stop and make sure we do what we can to remediate the situation.
Apparently, Paterno wanted to coach, and that's all. Unfortunately, he neglected to realize that coaching is much more than teaching kids how to excel in the mechanics of football. It's nice - albeit quaint - that he was held in such high regard by his assistant coaches that McCreary apparently thought it would disrespectfully embarrass Paterno if he told him everything he saw. But nice and quaint don't cut it anymore when we're talking about child abuse. Nice and quaint isn't the world in which we live.
Yes, the response, "well, that was quick" may have been the first thing people thought of upon hearing of Paterno's passing yesterday.
But then, "it's just so sad" pretty much sums up the rest of everyone's reaction.
So sad, because for Paterno's legacy at least, it's an epitaph that didn't have to be.
So sad.
_____
Friday, January 6, 2012
An Epiphany of the Epiphany
Greetings on this glorious feast day of Epiphany!
At least, it's a glorious day here in north central Texas, where the temperature is about 70 degrees and there's not a cloud in the sky.
Yet even if our weather here was as nasty as winter weather can get, even for Texas, January 6 would still be a day for glorious celebration of the Epiphany, or the welcoming to the world of the Christ child by the wise men.
Not that the wise men actually found the Christ child 13 days after His birth; Epiphany, like Christmas itself, is more symbolic than literal. Epiphany, which can mean the same thing as "stunning realization" or "new truth," commemorates the wise men being the Bible's first documented foreign visitors to the Christ child. Why is this important? Because it signifies how Jesus was born to save not just one class of people, or one race, or one caste or social group, but that as God incarnate, He would not be a respecter of persons. Anyone of any race, ethnicity, economic status, or even prior religion, can be saved through Him.
Hallelujah?
Indeed, Christ's very first visitors were the humble shepherds, called to the manger from the hills around Bethlehem. They were most likely Jews, or at the very least, people who had relatively close ancestral links to the lineage of David. But the wise men from the East were obviously of a far more distant people group. It has been estimated that it took about three years for them to "come to the place where the child was," which by that time, was in Nazareth.
And just to be clear: nowhere in the Bible does it say there were three kings. They were men of nobility, probably, and importance, obviously, but they could have been their generation's version of NASA scientists, and there could have been two of them, or dozens. We just know there was more than one of them, and they came from the East.
Christ is indeed the Savior of the world. And at least to me, that's what Epiphany celebrates. Cross-cultural missions, which is the extension of the significance of Christ's international purpose, is part of what Lutherans celebrate at Epiphany, which I think is appropriate.
Christ's Gospel is for His elect, but His elect is scattered across the globe. His elect is comprised of the rich and the poor, and everything in between. That's why it's fitting that before Christ ever "officially" began His earthly ministry, he'd already been greeted - heralded, even - by people representing the spectrum of human existence.
Isn't that incredible?
In the Christian Calendar, the season of Epiphany started last night, with what's called "the Twelfth Night," corresponding to the traditional Twelve Days of Christmas. Epiphany will run until the Sunday before Ash Wednesday, upon which day Lent begins.
Twelfth Night and the Start of Epiphany
Last year, I attended my first- ever Twelfth Night service at a relatively conservative Episcopalian church in Dallas' tony University Park enclave called St. Michael and All Angels. It started at dusk, and ended well after nightfall. After the service inside their towering, 1950's-vintage sanctuary with the massive marble wall across its chancel, we congregants were led outside to a mobile metal altar, where boughs and branches of evergreens had been piled high. These had come from decorations which had been arranged throughout the church during Advent and Christmas, which meant they were dry and brittle - perfect kindling.
About two hundred of us gathered around the mobile metal altar, underneath the spreading branches of grand live oak trees (they're called "live oak" because they keep leaves all year long). After a short prayer, one of the priests, wearing a striking white robe in the surrounding darkness, lit the stack of evergreens, which had already been doused with lighter fluid.
FOOMPSSSHHH!
The entire pile of dry evergreens went up in a flash of white, orange, and yellow; a grand burst of light, energy, and heat. The conflagration initially looked high enough to torch trees whose branches hung about twenty feet overhead, but the mobile altar had been strategically placed beneath an opening in the trees' canopy, and soaring fingers of flame licked up through the opening, probably another ten feet or so, until dying down to just below the canopy ceiling.
Impressive? You bet! Rush-hour traffic which had been crawling along the street in front of the church (does rush hour ever really end in Dallas?) practically came to a halt as passers-by stopped in amazement. They knew it was a controlled burn of some kind - the church's forecourt was crowded with people, and the priests with their white vestments stood near the street, one of them holding a sparkling brass crucifer.
The reaction amongst us in the crowd was equally noticeable. We gasped and shrank away at first, when the initial flash consumed the evergreens. Then we quickly grew comfortable with the drama of the fire, and even appreciative of it, since it was chilly outside - yes, even Dallas gets cold around Christmastime - and the warmth contrasted so nicely with the winter air.
Officially, the service was over, but it took several minutes before the first few people started to walk away, either to the parking lot and leave, or to the church's fellowship hall, where a 12th Night "feast" had been prepared. As I stood, lingering, letting the glow of the fire caress my face, even as my backside continued to complain about the cold, it struck me: what symbolism from this fire, and the fire of the Holy Spirit!
I got it.
It was its own epiphany!
Not the Holy Spirit - I've had Him ever since I was saved, just like any believer. No, what I "got" was the symbolism that many of us evangelicals have thrown out along with our very ambivalence to liturgical ceremonies like the 12th Night and Epiphany. How more dramatic staging of the work of the Holy Spirit than a pile of dead evergreens ignited in the darkness?
This Little Light of Mine
What kind of witness could we be to our world - wherever in the world we've been called to serve - if we let the light of Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit (depicted as a flame in the Bible) shine through us? Of course, if we're just a flash-in-the-pan, like this symbolic bonfire was, then we wouldn't be much use at all. But that's not the point of this little tradition, is it? Obviously, we've got to put the fire out. St. Michael and All Angels probably had to obtain a permit from the University Park police to even have an open flame outdoors like that. But can't you stop and enjoy the imagery?
Here we are - by outward appearance, we look green, like those evergreen branches did, even though, upon further inspection, you could tell they were dead, brittle, and dry. Useless except for being turned into mulch, perhaps, or better yet: fire, light, and heat!
Traffic on the street outside the church practically stopped, remember? Surprised, yes, but also intrigued by the impressive flame and the light it gave off. Those of us standing around were soothed by the heat, even though none of us wanted to get too close!
If you'll permit me one of the axes I can't help but grind, a hallmark of seeker-sensitive, contemporary churches is refuting tradition so that our tactile, object-oriented culture can "relate" to the Gospel. Meanwhile, I say that the 12th Night observance is just the traditional object lesson our seeker-sensitive churches, despite their cynicism of tradition, could use.
Sure, the 12th Night is extra-Biblical. No, it's not a necessary component of worship. And if you can't do it if it's raining on January 5, it's no huge loss to anyone's faith.
But it certainly helps, doesn't it? And what's wrong with that?
"So, Mr. Liturgy-Lover," you may be asking, "if this 12th Night was so great, why didn't you go back this year?"
Because in his homily last year, the rector preached that the reason Christ came to Earth was so that we could communicate better amongst ourselves.
That's what he said. No atoning sacrifice. No propitiation for sins. Nothing but being the equivalent of the first cell phone, or Mark Zuckerberg.
What pitiful theology, right? To cap it off, an elderly gentlemen down in the front of the nave actually had the temerity to elicit a satisfied "Amen!" at the homily's conclusion. An amen that echoed like a hollow punctuation mark in what was a grand room, yet a room I realized held little true faith.
And that's the problem with liturgy, isn't it? Not that the liturgy itself is a problem, but that it's mostly faith-less churches that perpetuate the liturgy. Liturgy that should be owned by God-led, God-worshipping, and God-preaching congregations. In order that the glory of His name can be broadcast in at least a fraction of the gloriousness with which we describe days like this one here in Texas.
So... in Lone Star State parlance: happy E-piffnee, y'all!
______
At least, it's a glorious day here in north central Texas, where the temperature is about 70 degrees and there's not a cloud in the sky.
Yet even if our weather here was as nasty as winter weather can get, even for Texas, January 6 would still be a day for glorious celebration of the Epiphany, or the welcoming to the world of the Christ child by the wise men.
Not that the wise men actually found the Christ child 13 days after His birth; Epiphany, like Christmas itself, is more symbolic than literal. Epiphany, which can mean the same thing as "stunning realization" or "new truth," commemorates the wise men being the Bible's first documented foreign visitors to the Christ child. Why is this important? Because it signifies how Jesus was born to save not just one class of people, or one race, or one caste or social group, but that as God incarnate, He would not be a respecter of persons. Anyone of any race, ethnicity, economic status, or even prior religion, can be saved through Him.
Hallelujah?
Indeed, Christ's very first visitors were the humble shepherds, called to the manger from the hills around Bethlehem. They were most likely Jews, or at the very least, people who had relatively close ancestral links to the lineage of David. But the wise men from the East were obviously of a far more distant people group. It has been estimated that it took about three years for them to "come to the place where the child was," which by that time, was in Nazareth.
And just to be clear: nowhere in the Bible does it say there were three kings. They were men of nobility, probably, and importance, obviously, but they could have been their generation's version of NASA scientists, and there could have been two of them, or dozens. We just know there was more than one of them, and they came from the East.
Christ is indeed the Savior of the world. And at least to me, that's what Epiphany celebrates. Cross-cultural missions, which is the extension of the significance of Christ's international purpose, is part of what Lutherans celebrate at Epiphany, which I think is appropriate.
Christ's Gospel is for His elect, but His elect is scattered across the globe. His elect is comprised of the rich and the poor, and everything in between. That's why it's fitting that before Christ ever "officially" began His earthly ministry, he'd already been greeted - heralded, even - by people representing the spectrum of human existence.
Isn't that incredible?
In the Christian Calendar, the season of Epiphany started last night, with what's called "the Twelfth Night," corresponding to the traditional Twelve Days of Christmas. Epiphany will run until the Sunday before Ash Wednesday, upon which day Lent begins.
Twelfth Night and the Start of Epiphany
Last year, I attended my first- ever Twelfth Night service at a relatively conservative Episcopalian church in Dallas' tony University Park enclave called St. Michael and All Angels. It started at dusk, and ended well after nightfall. After the service inside their towering, 1950's-vintage sanctuary with the massive marble wall across its chancel, we congregants were led outside to a mobile metal altar, where boughs and branches of evergreens had been piled high. These had come from decorations which had been arranged throughout the church during Advent and Christmas, which meant they were dry and brittle - perfect kindling.
About two hundred of us gathered around the mobile metal altar, underneath the spreading branches of grand live oak trees (they're called "live oak" because they keep leaves all year long). After a short prayer, one of the priests, wearing a striking white robe in the surrounding darkness, lit the stack of evergreens, which had already been doused with lighter fluid.
FOOMPSSSHHH!
The entire pile of dry evergreens went up in a flash of white, orange, and yellow; a grand burst of light, energy, and heat. The conflagration initially looked high enough to torch trees whose branches hung about twenty feet overhead, but the mobile altar had been strategically placed beneath an opening in the trees' canopy, and soaring fingers of flame licked up through the opening, probably another ten feet or so, until dying down to just below the canopy ceiling.
Impressive? You bet! Rush-hour traffic which had been crawling along the street in front of the church (does rush hour ever really end in Dallas?) practically came to a halt as passers-by stopped in amazement. They knew it was a controlled burn of some kind - the church's forecourt was crowded with people, and the priests with their white vestments stood near the street, one of them holding a sparkling brass crucifer.
The reaction amongst us in the crowd was equally noticeable. We gasped and shrank away at first, when the initial flash consumed the evergreens. Then we quickly grew comfortable with the drama of the fire, and even appreciative of it, since it was chilly outside - yes, even Dallas gets cold around Christmastime - and the warmth contrasted so nicely with the winter air.
Officially, the service was over, but it took several minutes before the first few people started to walk away, either to the parking lot and leave, or to the church's fellowship hall, where a 12th Night "feast" had been prepared. As I stood, lingering, letting the glow of the fire caress my face, even as my backside continued to complain about the cold, it struck me: what symbolism from this fire, and the fire of the Holy Spirit!
I got it.
It was its own epiphany!
Not the Holy Spirit - I've had Him ever since I was saved, just like any believer. No, what I "got" was the symbolism that many of us evangelicals have thrown out along with our very ambivalence to liturgical ceremonies like the 12th Night and Epiphany. How more dramatic staging of the work of the Holy Spirit than a pile of dead evergreens ignited in the darkness?
This Little Light of Mine
What kind of witness could we be to our world - wherever in the world we've been called to serve - if we let the light of Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit (depicted as a flame in the Bible) shine through us? Of course, if we're just a flash-in-the-pan, like this symbolic bonfire was, then we wouldn't be much use at all. But that's not the point of this little tradition, is it? Obviously, we've got to put the fire out. St. Michael and All Angels probably had to obtain a permit from the University Park police to even have an open flame outdoors like that. But can't you stop and enjoy the imagery?
Here we are - by outward appearance, we look green, like those evergreen branches did, even though, upon further inspection, you could tell they were dead, brittle, and dry. Useless except for being turned into mulch, perhaps, or better yet: fire, light, and heat!
Traffic on the street outside the church practically stopped, remember? Surprised, yes, but also intrigued by the impressive flame and the light it gave off. Those of us standing around were soothed by the heat, even though none of us wanted to get too close!
If you'll permit me one of the axes I can't help but grind, a hallmark of seeker-sensitive, contemporary churches is refuting tradition so that our tactile, object-oriented culture can "relate" to the Gospel. Meanwhile, I say that the 12th Night observance is just the traditional object lesson our seeker-sensitive churches, despite their cynicism of tradition, could use.
Sure, the 12th Night is extra-Biblical. No, it's not a necessary component of worship. And if you can't do it if it's raining on January 5, it's no huge loss to anyone's faith.
But it certainly helps, doesn't it? And what's wrong with that?
"So, Mr. Liturgy-Lover," you may be asking, "if this 12th Night was so great, why didn't you go back this year?"
Because in his homily last year, the rector preached that the reason Christ came to Earth was so that we could communicate better amongst ourselves.
That's what he said. No atoning sacrifice. No propitiation for sins. Nothing but being the equivalent of the first cell phone, or Mark Zuckerberg.
What pitiful theology, right? To cap it off, an elderly gentlemen down in the front of the nave actually had the temerity to elicit a satisfied "Amen!" at the homily's conclusion. An amen that echoed like a hollow punctuation mark in what was a grand room, yet a room I realized held little true faith.
And that's the problem with liturgy, isn't it? Not that the liturgy itself is a problem, but that it's mostly faith-less churches that perpetuate the liturgy. Liturgy that should be owned by God-led, God-worshipping, and God-preaching congregations. In order that the glory of His name can be broadcast in at least a fraction of the gloriousness with which we describe days like this one here in Texas.
So... in Lone Star State parlance: happy E-piffnee, y'all!
______
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Judging is Biblical
Yesterday, I used the "J" word.
"Judging."
It's one of the things many Christians think we're not supposed to do. We're supposed to be loving and supportive, even if it means ignoring flagrant sins in the body of Christ.
But how accurate are passages like "judge not, lest ye be judged" when we strip them of their Biblical context and hang them out to dry all by themselves?
Well, let's see, shall we?
Here's the famous "judge not" passage from the book of Matthew. Sure enough, "do not judge" anchors this whole section, but do those three words exist apart from the rest of what Christ teaches?
"Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye." (Matthew 7:1-5)
This is not a trick question: Does Christ actually teach us to not judge others? Or, does He teach us to judge without hypocrisy? It's the latter, not the former; right? We're to "first" repent of our own sins "and then... remove the speck" from the person we're criticizing. In other words, exhort your brother with humility and with a regard for your own sin.
Don't believe me? Then check out a similar passage where Christ's doctrine of correct judgment is expanded:
"Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." (Luke 6:37, 38)
What is expected of a believer who feels compelled to evaluate the actions of another believer? And basically, since Christ is teaching His disciples here, we can assume these instructions are primarily for those of us in His fellowship, although they're also useful when evaluating people outside our community of faith.
Christ expects people to make judgments based on the Fruit of the Spirit, doesn't He? Love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, goodness, meekness, self-control. In the case of making judgment calls, that means that we can be stern yet loving, convinced yet contrite, and even angry, as Christ was on occasion, but always self-controlled. After all, throwing out the money-changers from the temple required Christ to make a judgment call on their behavior, didn't it?
Paul helpfully explains why judging others is essential within the body of Christ:
"But now I am writing you that you must not associate with anyone who calls himself a brother but is sexually immoral or greedy, an idolater or a slanderer, a drunkard or a swindler. With such a man do not even eat. What business is it of mine to judge those outside the church? Are you not to judge those inside? God will judge those outside. 'Expel the wicked man from among you.'" (1 Corinthians 5:11-13)
Wow - Paul instructs us to not even eat with people who get drunk or who are greedy. In the Presbyterian church, drunkenness and greed get winked at a lot! But we're not even to share a meal with people who make a habit of these acts. Instead, we're supposed to "expel" them because they're "wicked."
We don't hear that preached very much these days, do we? Might I be taking any of this out of context? Paul says right there to "judge those inside" the church. Seems pretty contradictory to me, if people still insist that Christ tells us to judge not.
Which isn't what Christ tells us, is it? But then, perhaps we should look to Christ as our model for what a good judge is, and not just take my word for it!
"A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him - the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of power, the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD - and he will delight in the fear of the LORD. He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes, or decide by what he hears with his ears; but with righteousness he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth." (Isaiah 11:1-4a)
Christ judges with righteousness, and He treats us all as needy beggars, the poor of the earth. I suspect this terminology hearkens back to how we are to judge each other in a forgiving and giving manner.
Which means that I have some work to do myself on the way in which I judge and evaluate the trends, people, and circumstances among evangelical Christianity. You can judge me on that - I've never claimed to be perfect, and I don't mind being proven wrong. But the emphasis has to be on the "proven" bit. Just saying I'm wrong without backing that up with facts - which, you'll notice, I try hard not to do when I say others are wrong - is unBiblical, because nowhere in any of these passages does the Bible teach that unsolicited criticism for the sake of personal preference is helpful for the body of Christ.
Look, I struggle with the concept of grace like most believers do. Some of us err on the side of not dispensing enough of it, and some of us dispense too much of it. Very few of us dole out grace in appropriate measure most of the time.
But I've learned that I cannot use "do not judge" as a defense for something I may find disturbing, or challenging, or targeted at me personally.
Because the Bible teaches that we should. As I wrote yesterday, Christ expects His followers to use discernment, to evaluate the words of those who claim to follow Christ, to exhibit holiness in their lives, to follow His teachings, to judge fairly, and to separate themselves from people who follow false doctrines.
Like you, I want to honor Christ by what I say and do. So if you catch me lacking discernment, exhibiting a lack of holiness, judging unfairly, and advocating false doctrines, you need to judge me. And if you do it properly, it will be for my own good.
Whether I like it at the time, or not.
By God's grace, we'll grow in grace together, and perhaps the more effective we become at judging, the less conflict our fellowship of faith may experience. After all, judging doesn't always have to involve conflict, does it? Making judgments is simply evaluating the reality we see. We judge both the good and the bad.
Maybe the more we judge the bad, more good can take its place.
_____
Note: Perhaps you might be more convinced by this snappy post on Marc5Solas, or John MacArthur's use of the term defamation to more accurately describe the translation of "judging" in James 4.
"Judging."
It's one of the things many Christians think we're not supposed to do. We're supposed to be loving and supportive, even if it means ignoring flagrant sins in the body of Christ.
But how accurate are passages like "judge not, lest ye be judged" when we strip them of their Biblical context and hang them out to dry all by themselves?
Well, let's see, shall we?
Here's the famous "judge not" passage from the book of Matthew. Sure enough, "do not judge" anchors this whole section, but do those three words exist apart from the rest of what Christ teaches?
"Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye." (Matthew 7:1-5)
This is not a trick question: Does Christ actually teach us to not judge others? Or, does He teach us to judge without hypocrisy? It's the latter, not the former; right? We're to "first" repent of our own sins "and then... remove the speck" from the person we're criticizing. In other words, exhort your brother with humility and with a regard for your own sin.
Don't believe me? Then check out a similar passage where Christ's doctrine of correct judgment is expanded:
"Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." (Luke 6:37, 38)
What is expected of a believer who feels compelled to evaluate the actions of another believer? And basically, since Christ is teaching His disciples here, we can assume these instructions are primarily for those of us in His fellowship, although they're also useful when evaluating people outside our community of faith.
Christ expects people to make judgments based on the Fruit of the Spirit, doesn't He? Love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, goodness, meekness, self-control. In the case of making judgment calls, that means that we can be stern yet loving, convinced yet contrite, and even angry, as Christ was on occasion, but always self-controlled. After all, throwing out the money-changers from the temple required Christ to make a judgment call on their behavior, didn't it?
Paul helpfully explains why judging others is essential within the body of Christ:
"But now I am writing you that you must not associate with anyone who calls himself a brother but is sexually immoral or greedy, an idolater or a slanderer, a drunkard or a swindler. With such a man do not even eat. What business is it of mine to judge those outside the church? Are you not to judge those inside? God will judge those outside. 'Expel the wicked man from among you.'" (1 Corinthians 5:11-13)
Wow - Paul instructs us to not even eat with people who get drunk or who are greedy. In the Presbyterian church, drunkenness and greed get winked at a lot! But we're not even to share a meal with people who make a habit of these acts. Instead, we're supposed to "expel" them because they're "wicked."
We don't hear that preached very much these days, do we? Might I be taking any of this out of context? Paul says right there to "judge those inside" the church. Seems pretty contradictory to me, if people still insist that Christ tells us to judge not.
Which isn't what Christ tells us, is it? But then, perhaps we should look to Christ as our model for what a good judge is, and not just take my word for it!
"A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him - the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of power, the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD - and he will delight in the fear of the LORD. He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes, or decide by what he hears with his ears; but with righteousness he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth." (Isaiah 11:1-4a)
Christ judges with righteousness, and He treats us all as needy beggars, the poor of the earth. I suspect this terminology hearkens back to how we are to judge each other in a forgiving and giving manner.
Which means that I have some work to do myself on the way in which I judge and evaluate the trends, people, and circumstances among evangelical Christianity. You can judge me on that - I've never claimed to be perfect, and I don't mind being proven wrong. But the emphasis has to be on the "proven" bit. Just saying I'm wrong without backing that up with facts - which, you'll notice, I try hard not to do when I say others are wrong - is unBiblical, because nowhere in any of these passages does the Bible teach that unsolicited criticism for the sake of personal preference is helpful for the body of Christ.
Look, I struggle with the concept of grace like most believers do. Some of us err on the side of not dispensing enough of it, and some of us dispense too much of it. Very few of us dole out grace in appropriate measure most of the time.
But I've learned that I cannot use "do not judge" as a defense for something I may find disturbing, or challenging, or targeted at me personally.
Because the Bible teaches that we should. As I wrote yesterday, Christ expects His followers to use discernment, to evaluate the words of those who claim to follow Christ, to exhibit holiness in their lives, to follow His teachings, to judge fairly, and to separate themselves from people who follow false doctrines.
Like you, I want to honor Christ by what I say and do. So if you catch me lacking discernment, exhibiting a lack of holiness, judging unfairly, and advocating false doctrines, you need to judge me. And if you do it properly, it will be for my own good.
Whether I like it at the time, or not.
By God's grace, we'll grow in grace together, and perhaps the more effective we become at judging, the less conflict our fellowship of faith may experience. After all, judging doesn't always have to involve conflict, does it? Making judgments is simply evaluating the reality we see. We judge both the good and the bad.
Maybe the more we judge the bad, more good can take its place.
_____
Note: Perhaps you might be more convinced by this snappy post on Marc5Solas, or John MacArthur's use of the term defamation to more accurately describe the translation of "judging" in James 4.
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