Here's a flashback for you.
Remember the WWJD fad from the 1990's?
"WWJD" stood for "What Would Jesus Do," and was intended to help provoke Christ-like responses among believers towards all sorts of circumstances.
In other words, say, you're driving along in heavy traffic, and somebody cuts you off. WWJD? Instead of cursing the driver, you graciously back away, and re-construct the buffer zone you'd been maintaining between vehicles.
Or maybe you're at church, and you overhear a couple of people complaining about your pastor. WWJD? Well, we know Christ wouldn't sidle up to those folks and join heartily in the gossipy vilification, would He? But would He take a posture of unquestioning defense for the pastor, without admitting maybe the complainers have a point? Or would He simply keep walking away, praying for those malcontents under His breath, but not wanting to personally intervene and foment more antagonism?
What about when you happen upon a homeless panhandler? If your town has a well-run homeless shelter to which you and your church contribute time and money, do you just pass by the homeless person without acknowledging their presence, assuming maybe they'd gotten kicked out of the shelter for bad behavior? Do you pass by with a quick shout-out about the homeless shelter being just down the street, in case the panhandler isn't aware of it? Or do you stop, give the person $10, or take them to a restaurant, or welcome them into your own home?
Would What Jesus Does Change Your Behavior?
You can see how quickly the simple WWJD mantra proves itself insufficient in addressing some surprisingly complex issues. Thus, the WWJD trend became hollow quickly.
It wasn't enough, when you were asked a question about morality, ethics, or the propriety of a course of action, to simply utter "WWJD?" and assume you'd addressed the quandary.
Many people used WWJD as a social gospel validator, applying Biblical truths about grace and mercy inappropriately. In some liberal circles, WWJD became a pithy excuse to chastise more conservative evangelicals who, even back then, were clamoring for welfare reform, or gun rights, or immigration reform. Basically, liberals mistakenly assumed, Christ would have pretty much let people do whatever they wanted as long as it didn't involve ending generational poverty, carrying weapons, or enforcing national sovereignty laws.
So it scares me a little bit these days to find myself increasingly asking myself, "WWJD?" Yes, I'm a moderate Republican, but I'm no liberal patsy. I believe in - and am immensely grateful for - mercy and grace, but those are gifts God provides to His people along with expectations for how we're to exercise them. Both as recipients, and benefactors.
I'm no liberal patsy, and neither is Christ.
To a certain extent, I cannot argue that our modern American culture hasn't bred a spirit of dependency on our government. There have always been needs, and needy people, but it just makes sense to me that localized communities, starting with one's family and church, provide the best-balanced and benevolently accountable environments for meeting these personal needs. National governments come in handy for broader efforts like building highway networks, electrical dams, sovereign defense forces, and ensuring the civil rights of each citizen. But historically, government-run charities don't have a great track record, at least in making sure systems aren't abused and genuinely needy people don't go without.
When it comes to charity, the Biblical book of Proverbs has plenty to say both about our obligation to help the poor, and about the expectations a society is correct in having of each participant, and how each person is to contribute to their community. And I don't disagree that over the years, our society has shifted from a bottom-up form of reliance to a top-down form, with our government at the top.
Sock It To the Ones With the Most Money?
Yet as I continue to encounter Libertarian viewpoints in our evangelical media, the question "WWJD?" has begun to flutter around in my brain. Perhaps on account of all the empty space up there, true; but also, because some evangelicals appear to have quit the grace-and-mercy side of our faith cold-turkey.
Exibit A is an article for World magazine by D.C. Innes entitled, "Price Gouging as Neighbor Love." Innes, a professor at New York City's conservative Kings College who lives out on Long Island, writes about how he observed the long lines and rationing at gas stations across the metropolitan area in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. He bemoans the unfair restrictions against price gouging imposed by New York State on its gas station owners. He sounds convinced that it's actually a manifestation of Christ's command that we love our neighbors to let the price of gas go as high as the market will bear during a crisis.
"State law forbids anything more than a 10 percent price increase at the pump during a shortage," Innes complains. "But while our guardians of the common good meant well in making that law, I think their kindness was cruel."
I think my jaw dropped open when I read that. So... he thinks Jesus would endorse price-gouging?
"The market system of setting prices serves everyone," Innes claims, apparently assuming that we live in a perfect world. Generally speaking, when a community is not reeling from a natural catastrophe, free markets do have a way of settling into a sort of stasis which benefits the most people. But Innes doesn't believe that preying on the unfortunate is sinful behavior?
In challenging the government's need to mitigate a fuel shortage, Innes tries to argue that "there is always a shortage of some sort insofar as there is generally less of things than we would like." But I can't think of any tangible commodities that we Americans could have more of if they were available. What is there less of that we would like? Lexus seems pretty good at making just enough luxury automobiles to satisfy the demand of people who can afford them. Oreos hasn't faced an outcry over shortages of their nutritionless cookies, although devotees of Hostess Ding Dongs have recently. In fact, the world has no shortage of food - famine these days is a political crisis, not a production crisis.
Innes is correct in pointing out that price controls don't do a good job of eliminating the black market, and he witnessed people buying gas for one price and selling it for double to people waiting at the end of long lines. But all that proves is that sin corrupts our world, not that price controls automatically - or solely - cause black markets. Black markets flourish in countries - or even neighborhoods in America - where some products are officially unavailable. Would Innes blame the despicable proliferation of child porn on the black market, for example, on price controls?
It's hard to tell where morality fits into his viewpoint. "If gas stations had been able to raise their prices to reflect the radically reduced supply," Innes postulates, "lines would have been shorter, and there would have been easier access to gas supplies for those most in need of it." How does anybody know that if there were no price controls, only the people who most needed gas would have easy access to it? The only way you can determine that is by placing the proposition's value not on the person "needing" the gas, but a person's ability to pay what the market can charge.
Talk About Reviling the One Percenters!
And, voilà, you have the indelible scourge of Libertarianism, folks! The value in a Libertarian economy is not on the person, but on the person's financial worth. What can they pay?
The value of a person becomes not who that person is, what they might
need the gas for, or what factors have impacted their life in a way that
prevents them from paying exorbitant prices. The only value a person
has comes from whether or not they can play the higher price. Money
becomes more important than the person.
For example, suppose a medical doctor and a hedge fund manager need
fuel for their cars. Sure, the doctor may be able to afford quadruple the price to drive
to the hospital and perform a life-saving operation. But if the hedge fund
manager can afford ten times the price or more, should finances be the sole reason that doctor would be prevented from getting the necessary fuel?
What would Jesus do? This past Sunday, the pastor at my church pointed out in his sermon that Jesus healed the ten lepers, but only one went back to thank Him. Was Christ's healing power any less lavish on the other nine? Apparently not, since His grace doesn't depend on how well we thank Him for what He does for us. Is this the same Christ who would mock His people by setting the price for what we need at a level only a few could pay?
When the Bible talks about fairness in our business dealings, mandates like "accurate and honest weights," wealth being worthless in the "day of wrath," and not taking advantage of others are interwoven with accounts of Boaz letting Ruth collect food for free. Free! And maybe I'm being woefully literal by assuming "honesty" is concerned less with how much money you can exact from a customer, and more with being able to look your customers in the eye the next day. However, don't you have to be a pretty rigorous Gospel revisionist to believe that loving our neighbor means figuring how much they're willing to pay for
something they desperately need?
God has shown us what is good and what He requires of us. We're to "act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God."
Must only WWJD bracelet-wearing, coffee-mug-holding social gospel liberals believe that?
Then again, would Jesus have given away the gasoline? Probably not, since it wasn't the gas station owners' fault that Hurricane Sandy crimped access to fuel. Nor could the industry control whether they had electricity to transfer their gas or not. Selling fuel during a crisis is not what's wrong here.
So, would Jesus condone price gouging? Since neither penalizing nor accommodating people based solely on their net worth is Biblical, I humbly stand in opposition to Professor Innes and say that no, He wouldn't.
If you believe He would, however, and your faith controls your politics, then maybe we've found another reason for why a certain political party lost this month's presidential election.
_____
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Friday, November 2, 2012
Stripping Fables from Christ's Nativity
Drives. Me. Nuts.
What drives me nuts? Well, first is the realization that since we've hit November, from now until Christmas Day, we're going to be bombarded with Christmas music practically everywhere we go.
And I use the term "Christmas music" loosely, of course! Because what really drives me nuts is that so much of the "music" that's become part of our North American Christmas repertoire mythologizes the birth of Christ into some snowy, fuzzy fable.
Christmas Is No Myth
Aren't the facts of Christ's Incarnation far less pretty, cosseted, and downright white - both in terms of culture and snow - than we western Caucasian evangelicals insist on stereotyping them as?
Mary was a pregnant teenager who'd just finished a grueling trek forced upon her and her fiancé - who wasn't the father of her baby - by their imperious government. They ended up in a stable, with smelly hay, smelly farm animals, smelly excrement from those smelly farm animals, and no obstetrician, neonatal nurse, or midwife in sight. Their first visitors after Christ's birth were a group of illiterate, smelly shepherds, who couldn't stop rambling on about their frightful vision of angels in the night sky.
In addition, this all took place probably in March or April, not the dead of winter, and the magi were just starting out on their journey after seeing the star in the East. It would take them a couple of years to make it to the place where the young Christ child was. And by then, it wouldn't have been a stable.
And guess what - it hardly ever snows in temperate Bethlehem.
If we told the story authentically, wouldn't we see that the reality of Christ's birth was actually more profound than the insipid fantasy into which our culture has polished it? Our King of Kings came to His Creation in such a lowly manner! Thankfully, some of our songwriters have gotten it right, and attempted to marvel at what God considered to be His perfect way of introducing Christ to this planet. But it's hard for merchants to sell Christmas as an arduous, unsanitary, disenfranchised, and bizarre event. And unfortunately, the evangelical church has been mostly complicit with the Nativity's commercializers in making the Incarnation a sellable product for once-a-year churchgoers.
Instead of a more accurately awestruck accounting of the birth of this world's holy Savior.
Christmas Music Needs Authenticity
Regular readers of my blog essays know that I'm an unabashed advocate for classical hymnody. I actually believe that what we consider to be traditional corporate worship provides, on the whole, a focus on Christ and God's holiness that comes closer to what our Trinity expects when we gather together to honor Him. I'm willing to contend that culturally, our genre of classical music has become less a Caucasian, European contrivance as much as it has become a universally-renowned, broadly-appreciated style of stately repertoire uniquely suited to the worship of God, no matter where we're born, or in what society we've been raised.
Yes, that means some expressions of culture are better than others. It's a politically incorrect thing to say, and, some think, a woefully impertinent thing to believe. But it's true. No human culture is perfect, or even ideal. And many are utterly unBiblical. Doesn't this mean that, when it comes to how we express our adoration of God to Him, particularly in public, we can't rely on cultural norms to be adequate? Just because we're under the misapprehension that God values all cultural norms equally?
Don't we need to discriminate between what's good, and what's adequate, or even downright inappropriate?
When it comes to such cultural institutions as Christmas, shouldn't we resist the urge to let culture dictate our worship? Shouldn't communicating the glory of Christ's birth be done with as much theological and historical integrity as possible?
It Depends On Your Definition of "Midwinter"
Consider, then, one of these seasonal songs driving me nuts. It's called "In the Bleak Midwinter," and the text is by noted poet Christina Rossetti, who lived from 1830 until 1894. For the most part, these lyrics withstand basic theological scrutiny fairly well. Yet Rossetti incorporates snowy winter themes and references the Wise Men in a way that bolsters the fictitious narrative of popular Christmas lore, which does a grave disservice to the historical accuracy of Christ's birth.
1. In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan, earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone; snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow, in the bleak midwinter, long ago.
2. Our God, heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain; heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign. In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
3. Angels and archangels may have gathered there, cherubim and seraphim thronged the air; but his mother only, in her maiden bliss, worshiped the beloved with a kiss.
4. What can I give him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part; yet what I can I give him: give my heart.
Thematically, the references to a "bleak midwinter" could be argued as being allegorical to the span of quiet time between the writing of the Old and New Testaments, when it's widely thought that God's presence had been generally withheld from our planet. Then too, since centuries ago, the Roman Catholic Church had moved the observance of Christmas to coincide with pagan celebrations of the Winter Solstice, which symbolizes a time of death between the seasons of decay and renewal, a "bleak midwinter" presents a poetic linkage between mortal sin and salvation.
For the artistic among us, appreciating these delicate abstractions may be a permissible way to forgive the historical inaccuracies that help to mythologize Christmas. However, their doing so does little to convey the universal application of the Christmas story to cultures where references to snow and its allegorical qualities risks tilting the Incarnation towards a Western - and therefore, foreign - aesthetic. Granted, the Holy Spirit can overcome any obstacle we Christians can put in the way of Christ's redemptive work, but how loving is it for us to intentionally complicate parts of the Gospel?
Let's Liberate Christmas From Ethnocentrism!
Maybe you don't mind singing songs that are exclusive to your culture and cohort. And in terms of everyday socialization, doing so isn't wrong, in and of itself. But when it comes to the Gospel, shouldn't we be seeking to free God's Good News from the shackles of our own cultural bondage? The message of God becoming incarnate for us is a global message. And it's not our message - it's God's!
For a full half of our planet, the midwinter is hardly bleak and snowy. For them, it's like North America's and Europe's summertime! If we sang Rossetti's song in Australia or Nigeria, we'd have to throw in the caveat, "well, this was written by a European white woman; you'll have to free it from its cultural baggage."
Maybe there are some Nigerian Christmas songs that talk about how hot and dusty it must have been during the winter when Christ was born. See how awkward that would be for us?
Therefore, shouldn't Christ's Nativity be equally relevant to all of God's Elect, no matter where we live? Or what our winters look like?
I'm not interested in preserving Western hymnody simply for nostalgia's sake. I think the bulk of Western hymnody should be applicable to as many cultures as possible, because it has that much theological and artistic integrity. It may have originated in Western cultures, but just like the message it declares, it can be universal in its applicability.
That's why it drives me nuts when church choirs like the one I'm in have to sing fluff like "In the Bleak Midwinter" during Advent.
How bleak, indeed!
_____
TO HELP WITH HURRICANE SANDY RELIEF EFFORTS:
What drives me nuts? Well, first is the realization that since we've hit November, from now until Christmas Day, we're going to be bombarded with Christmas music practically everywhere we go.
And I use the term "Christmas music" loosely, of course! Because what really drives me nuts is that so much of the "music" that's become part of our North American Christmas repertoire mythologizes the birth of Christ into some snowy, fuzzy fable.
Christmas Is No Myth
Aren't the facts of Christ's Incarnation far less pretty, cosseted, and downright white - both in terms of culture and snow - than we western Caucasian evangelicals insist on stereotyping them as?
Mary was a pregnant teenager who'd just finished a grueling trek forced upon her and her fiancé - who wasn't the father of her baby - by their imperious government. They ended up in a stable, with smelly hay, smelly farm animals, smelly excrement from those smelly farm animals, and no obstetrician, neonatal nurse, or midwife in sight. Their first visitors after Christ's birth were a group of illiterate, smelly shepherds, who couldn't stop rambling on about their frightful vision of angels in the night sky.
In addition, this all took place probably in March or April, not the dead of winter, and the magi were just starting out on their journey after seeing the star in the East. It would take them a couple of years to make it to the place where the young Christ child was. And by then, it wouldn't have been a stable.
And guess what - it hardly ever snows in temperate Bethlehem.
If we told the story authentically, wouldn't we see that the reality of Christ's birth was actually more profound than the insipid fantasy into which our culture has polished it? Our King of Kings came to His Creation in such a lowly manner! Thankfully, some of our songwriters have gotten it right, and attempted to marvel at what God considered to be His perfect way of introducing Christ to this planet. But it's hard for merchants to sell Christmas as an arduous, unsanitary, disenfranchised, and bizarre event. And unfortunately, the evangelical church has been mostly complicit with the Nativity's commercializers in making the Incarnation a sellable product for once-a-year churchgoers.
Instead of a more accurately awestruck accounting of the birth of this world's holy Savior.
Christmas Music Needs Authenticity
Regular readers of my blog essays know that I'm an unabashed advocate for classical hymnody. I actually believe that what we consider to be traditional corporate worship provides, on the whole, a focus on Christ and God's holiness that comes closer to what our Trinity expects when we gather together to honor Him. I'm willing to contend that culturally, our genre of classical music has become less a Caucasian, European contrivance as much as it has become a universally-renowned, broadly-appreciated style of stately repertoire uniquely suited to the worship of God, no matter where we're born, or in what society we've been raised.
Yes, that means some expressions of culture are better than others. It's a politically incorrect thing to say, and, some think, a woefully impertinent thing to believe. But it's true. No human culture is perfect, or even ideal. And many are utterly unBiblical. Doesn't this mean that, when it comes to how we express our adoration of God to Him, particularly in public, we can't rely on cultural norms to be adequate? Just because we're under the misapprehension that God values all cultural norms equally?
Don't we need to discriminate between what's good, and what's adequate, or even downright inappropriate?
When it comes to such cultural institutions as Christmas, shouldn't we resist the urge to let culture dictate our worship? Shouldn't communicating the glory of Christ's birth be done with as much theological and historical integrity as possible?
It Depends On Your Definition of "Midwinter"
Consider, then, one of these seasonal songs driving me nuts. It's called "In the Bleak Midwinter," and the text is by noted poet Christina Rossetti, who lived from 1830 until 1894. For the most part, these lyrics withstand basic theological scrutiny fairly well. Yet Rossetti incorporates snowy winter themes and references the Wise Men in a way that bolsters the fictitious narrative of popular Christmas lore, which does a grave disservice to the historical accuracy of Christ's birth.
1. In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan, earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone; snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow, in the bleak midwinter, long ago.
2. Our God, heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain; heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign. In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
3. Angels and archangels may have gathered there, cherubim and seraphim thronged the air; but his mother only, in her maiden bliss, worshiped the beloved with a kiss.
4. What can I give him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part; yet what I can I give him: give my heart.
Thematically, the references to a "bleak midwinter" could be argued as being allegorical to the span of quiet time between the writing of the Old and New Testaments, when it's widely thought that God's presence had been generally withheld from our planet. Then too, since centuries ago, the Roman Catholic Church had moved the observance of Christmas to coincide with pagan celebrations of the Winter Solstice, which symbolizes a time of death between the seasons of decay and renewal, a "bleak midwinter" presents a poetic linkage between mortal sin and salvation.
For the artistic among us, appreciating these delicate abstractions may be a permissible way to forgive the historical inaccuracies that help to mythologize Christmas. However, their doing so does little to convey the universal application of the Christmas story to cultures where references to snow and its allegorical qualities risks tilting the Incarnation towards a Western - and therefore, foreign - aesthetic. Granted, the Holy Spirit can overcome any obstacle we Christians can put in the way of Christ's redemptive work, but how loving is it for us to intentionally complicate parts of the Gospel?
Let's Liberate Christmas From Ethnocentrism!
Maybe you don't mind singing songs that are exclusive to your culture and cohort. And in terms of everyday socialization, doing so isn't wrong, in and of itself. But when it comes to the Gospel, shouldn't we be seeking to free God's Good News from the shackles of our own cultural bondage? The message of God becoming incarnate for us is a global message. And it's not our message - it's God's!
For a full half of our planet, the midwinter is hardly bleak and snowy. For them, it's like North America's and Europe's summertime! If we sang Rossetti's song in Australia or Nigeria, we'd have to throw in the caveat, "well, this was written by a European white woman; you'll have to free it from its cultural baggage."
Maybe there are some Nigerian Christmas songs that talk about how hot and dusty it must have been during the winter when Christ was born. See how awkward that would be for us?
Therefore, shouldn't Christ's Nativity be equally relevant to all of God's Elect, no matter where we live? Or what our winters look like?
I'm not interested in preserving Western hymnody simply for nostalgia's sake. I think the bulk of Western hymnody should be applicable to as many cultures as possible, because it has that much theological and artistic integrity. It may have originated in Western cultures, but just like the message it declares, it can be universal in its applicability.
That's why it drives me nuts when church choirs like the one I'm in have to sing fluff like "In the Bleak Midwinter" during Advent.
How bleak, indeed!
_____
TO HELP WITH HURRICANE SANDY RELIEF EFFORTS:
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