Connecting the Dots

It is no secret that the Obama Administration has been going after government whistleblowers like an anteater at a termite hill. 1) Since 2009 the Obama DOJ has prosecuted more than twice the number of whistleblowers and leakers than all preceding administrations combined—2) not including the numerous foreign journalists whom the US has had indefinitely detained in countries like Yemen and Iraq for daring to expose American military atrocities and corruption. 3) Army Pfc Bradley Manning is currently being tried for leaking close to a million classified government documents to WikiLeaks, including 250,000 diplomatic cables and a video of the now notorious July 12, 2007 Baghdad airstrike. While embarrassing, none of the documents is considered high security. 4) Meanwhile, WikiLeaks’s own Julian Assange is still holed up in London’s Ecuadorian embassy for fear that the administration wants him extradited to the US.  5) In January internet freedom activist Aaron Swartz took his own life before going to trial for downloading millions of academic articles from research service JSTOR. If found guilty, he would have faced the possibility of a draconian 35 years in prison. Why was he hounded so mercilessly for something JSTOR was willing to dismiss? It has just been revealed he was working on an internet safe-drop for whistleblowers. 6) Earlier this month Assata Shakur, a Black Panther activist who fled to Cuba over 30 years ago, was placed on the FBI’s Most Wanted Terrorist list (I guess they’ve given up on D.B. Cooper).  7) And this week it came to light that in 2012 the Justice Department seized phone records of nearly 100 Associated Press reporters. To say the least, the administration’s policies have had a chilling effect on investigative reporters and their sources, not to mention freedom of the press.

What is going on? Why this unsubtle attack on First Amendment privileges and internet freedom? And how, if at all, are all these cases connected? As Pulitzer-Prize winning journalist Christ Hedges stated yesterday in an interview on Democracy Now,

“What we are seeing is a system put into place where it’s all propaganda….you’ve got to hand it to the Obama administration. They’re far more clever than their predecessors in the Bush administration, but they’re carrying out exactly the same policy of snuffing out our most basic civil liberties and our most important press freedoms. And that’s because they know what’s coming, and they are going to legally put in place [a system] by which any challenge to the centers of corporate power become ineffectual or impossible.”

The corporate coup of our republic is nearing its completion. But there are still a few minor obstacles to absolute domination, such as our constitutionally protected freedoms of speech and press. The military-industrial complex plans to be at war into the next century, so anyone who challenges the official narrative needs to be silenced. The internet and social media are too much of a threat. Americans must be kept in the dark about what their government is actually doing.

The War on Terror has been a tremendous boon to the consummation of the corporate power-grab, since citizens who imply that the emperor is naked can now be simply labeled “terrorists” and either bullied or prosecuted into silence (soon they will just be “detained” indefinitely like their foreign counterparts).

As journalist Glenn Greenwald has warned us all along, the war against Muslims and foreign journalists was the canary in the coalmine that should have alerted us to the crisis. Did we really think it would end with them, that we ordinary Americans would be immune? Simply because we’re not one of “those people”?

The corporate power that rules Washington also knows better than we that there is a growing citizen backlash against their totalitarian ambitions, which is why movements like Occupy Wall Street have been treated with the same paranoia and labeled “domestic terrorism.” Our Founders’s worst nightmares are now a looming reality. If we want to save our Constitution from further shredding, the time to start standing up was yesterday, but it still might not be too late.

What the US Drone War is Really Accomplishing

On Tuesday the US Senate began hearings into the Obama administration’s targeted assassination program. By far, the day’s most powerful testimony came from Farea al-Muslimi, a Yemeni youth activist with deep ties to the US. Farea’s village was recently bombed, so he has seen up close the physical and emotional devastation of this new kind of American “warfare.” Here is what he said:

I am from Wessab, a remote village mountain in Yemen. Just six days ago, my village was struck by an American drone in an attack that terrified the region’s poor farmers. Wessab is my village, but America has helped me grow up and become what I am today. I come from a family that lives off the fruit, vegetables and livestock we raise in our farms. My father’s income rarely exceeded $200. He learned to read late in his life, and my mother never did.

My life, however, has been different. I am who I am today because the U.S. State Department supported my education. I spent a year living with an American family and attending an American high school. That was one of the best years of my life. I learned about American culture, managed the school basketball team and participated in trick-or-treat on Halloween.

But the most exceptional is an experience was coming—the most exceptional experience was coming to know someone who ended up being like a father to me. He was a member of the U.S. Air Force. Most of my years—most of my year was spent with him and his family. He came to the mosque with me, and I went to church with him. And he became my best friend in America. I went to the U.S. as an ambassador for Yemen, and I came back to Yemen as an ambassador of the U.S.

I could never have imagined that the same hand that changed my life and took it from miserable to promising one would also drone my village. My understanding is that a man named Hammed al-Radmi was the target of a drone strike. Many people in Wessab know al-Radmi, and the Yemeni government could easily have found and arrested him. Al-Radmi was well known to government officials, and even to local government—and even local government could have captured him if the U.S. had told them to do so.

In the best, what Wessab’s villagers knew of the U.S. was based on my stories about my wonderful experiences here. The friendships and values I experienced and described to the villagers helped them understand the America that I know and that I love. Now, however, when they think of America, they think of the terror they feel from the drones that hover over their heads, ready to fire missiles at any time. What the violent militants had previously failed to achieve, one drone strike accomplished in an instant. There is now an intense anger against America in Wessab.

This is not an isolated incident. The drone strikes are the face of America to many Yemenis. I have spoken to many victims of U.S. drone strikes, like a mother in Jaar who had to identify her innocent 18-year-old son’s body through a video in a stranger’s cellphone, or the father in Shaqra who held his four- and six-year-old children as they died in his arms. Recently in Aden, I spoke with one of the tribal leaders present in 2009 at the place where the U.S. cruise missiles targeted the village of al-Majalah in Lawdar, Abyan. More than 40 civilians were killed, including four pregnant women. The tribal leader and others tried to rescue the victims, but the bodies were so decimated that it was impossible to differentiate between those of children, women and their animals. Some of these innocent people were buried in the same grave as their animals. In my written testimony, I provided detail about the human cost of this and other drone strikes based on interviews I have conducted or have been part of.

I have a personal experience of fear—of the fear they cause. Late last year, I was in Abyan with an American journalist colleague. Suddenly, I heard the buzz. The local people we were interviewing told us that based on their past experiences, the thing hovering above us was an American drone. My heart sank. I felt helpless. It was the first time that I had truly feared for my life or for an American friend’s life in Yemen. I couldn’t help but think that the drone operator just might be my American friend with whom I had the warmest and deepest relationship here. I was torn between this great country that I love and the drone above my head that could not differentiate between me and some AQAP militants. It was one of the most divisive and difficult feeling I have ever encountered. I felt that way when my village was also droned.

Thank you for having this hearing. I believe in America, and I deeply believe that when Americans truly know about how much pain and suffering the U.S. air strikes have caused and how much they are harming efforts to win hearts, minds and grounds in Yemen and hearts and minds of the Yemeni people, they will reject this devastated—devastating targeted killing program. Thank you.

(Thanks to Democracy Now for rush transcript)

I also refer the reader to Glenn Greenwald’s excellent article in today’s Guardian.

A few observations as follow-up to my last blog. It seems many white churches are painfully aware of the problem of Sunday-morning segregation but have no strategy to change it. If they are waiting for that day when twelve families of color magically walk through their doors, they’ll be waiting a long time.

Last night, I performed one of the most painful exercises I have ever done. No, I’m not talking about barbell lunges. In an effort to find a church with a racially diverse congregation, my wife and I went through the entire directory and looked up the various churches on the internet. Websites can be very revealing. Photos even more so. For example, a friend had recommended a certain large church downtown, claiming that such an inner-city church must surely have a diverse body. We looked at the church’s website, but saw no people of color in the photos. Then we looked at the church staff page. I am sorry to say that of the twenty of so ministry and administrative staff positions, all of them were filled by white people. Every single one. The only people of color were on the custodial staff. (If you spent the time to scroll down to the bottom of the page, past the elderly lady who makes the sermon tapes, you might see them). What a statement! Sadly, this is only too common here.

As pastors, why would we expect a person of color to feel welcome or comfortable in our churches if we make no effort to show diversity in our staff, or at least in our worship team, announcements, or what we present from the altar? This makes a huge statement about what we value as a congregation. Some pastors may claim that there are no people of color in the congregation to draw from. That’s rather a passive argument. Okay, then hire someone. If we have no problem hiring a janitor with dark skin and trusting him with the keys to the building, then we can certainly hire a qualified person of color to make announcements from the pulpit, or lead worship–something! If this sounds unscrupulous to us, then I suggest we do not grasp the gravity of our situation. Or perhaps darker forces are at work here.

Another reason people of color may visit our churches but never stay long may be in the tone and content of what is presented from the pulpit. People of color may feel that we have no concept of how they live and the things they deal with on a daily basis. They’re right. Many white churches spend time praising the United States of America as if it were the greatest thing since aerosol cheese. This is a great country, but it is not so for everyone. It may seem hard for us to believe, but many people of color actually find it difficult to make it here. During a recent sermon one white pastor launched into an encomium on the greatness of the American justice system. I could not help thinking of how a person of color would feel hearing that (fortunately, there weren’t any near the place).

Sure the system seems great if it works for you, but that is because it is engineered to work for white people, especially the affluent ones. In reality there are really two Americas, one for the white and rich, and one for the poor and people of color. If we really want people of color to stay in our churches, we need to get to know that “other” America. We need to immerse ourselves in the issues and challenges they face, talk about things like racism, economic disparity, injustice. It will do us and our congregations some good. People of color also tend to vote differently (you mean it’s possible to vote “the other way” and still get into heaven? Amazing, isn’t it?) It’s time to break out of the white Republican bubble and see the rest of America.

Just Decent Folks

After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands.—Revelation 7:9

“I hate it,” my four-year-old protested, as she listed her reasons why she refused to go to Sunday School that morning. “It’s boring,” she continued. “No one plays with me!” she added. We were still not impressed. Then, like Clancey, she lowered the boom, blurting out tearfully, her little lower lip quivering, “I’m the only one with brown skin!”

Since moving to the South, we have attended several churches in our effort to find a church home. They have all been filled with sweet, hospitable people. They could not have been more welcoming to us, as a white couple with a bi-racial child. They have all seemed theologically balanced. The preaching has been of high quality. There’s been just one problem: most of these churches are white. Not just mainly white, mostly white, or predominantly white. They’re so white they look like Lands’ End catalogues. Looking from the altar, you could go snow-blind.

It has been frustrating enough trying to find a church where we feel comfortable as charismatic evangelicals. (Churches here are mostly one or the other. A ridiculous choice, like having to choose between Jesus and the Holy Spirit.) But having to choose between an all-white or all-black church is just plain wrong. At one very large all-black church I visited, I thought I could get lost in the crowd. Fat chance. (Yes, I was stared at–exactly what a black person must feel in attending a white church). We also attended a Spanish church—our daughter was so excited to see people with brown skin! The people were great, but the language barrier was a problem.

Finally, we thought we had settled on a church. It was the best we could do, we thought. Then, our daughter gave us that wakeup call to jolt us out of our complacency. As a father I felt both frustration and conviction. Frustration over the racial ossification that so often passes for Christianity in this country, and conviction over my own complicity in both the wider problem and my own daughter’s pain.

In response to a question as to why the church was not taking more of a lead in the struggle for desegregation, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. remarked with sadness ,

We must face the fact that in America, the church is still the most segregated major institution in America. At 11:00 on Sunday morning, when we stand and sing and Christ has no east or west, we stand at the most segregated hour in this nation. This is tragic. Nobody of honesty can overlook this.

Fifty years later, have we made much progress? I have to say that after a year and a half living here, I have met only a few people that I would consider openly “racist.”  So what’s the problem? Perhaps the problem is that racism is more often tacit than stated, complicit than active. These days it is expressed more in what we do, where we live, the relationships or schools we choose, than in what we say or consciously believe.

How is it that in 2013, we Christians, of all people, can still be so comfortable with the status quo of racial segregation? What bothers me the most is not that there are white churches and black churches, but that we all seem okay with that!

Of course, King struggled with this too. In his Letter from Birmingham Jail (1963), he wrote:

I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Councilor or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

Ah. People of good will. Just plain, decent folks. Where would the world be without us? We are the mainstay of every culture, a bulwark against moral depravity and anarchy. Without us, things like democracy could not survive. Yet ironically, sadly, tragically, these same quiet decent souls are the very backbone of racism in this country—always have been and always will be. Frothing segregationists and white robed supremacists may capture the headlines, but in the end they are but a carnival sideshow compared to the mighty, destructive power of the decent folk like me, whose pressed white shirts and green lawns mask a savage indifference, a ruthless, murderous passivity. Slavery could not have endured so long without us, so warmly tucked into our beds in South and North. Jim Crow could not have kept its iron talons so firmly embedded for near a century. Eight million Jews could not have been so tidily eliminated without the blind complicity and willful ignorance of us, the infantry of inertia, the stalwarts of the status quo.

There are many kinds of racism. There is the loud-mouthed, ignorant, bullying kind, like Commissioner Bull Connor, who loosed attack dogs on little black school girls. There is the cowardly kind, who move in packs at night protected by white sheets. There are those possessed of a dangerous eloquence that can sway millions. But none of them could last a day without the silent blessing, apathy, or votes of us decent folks, whose passive kind of racism outsmiles, outlabors, out-Herods all the rest.

We’re not giving up, even if it means planting a church ourselves, or at least finding one where the leadership has a vision that both reflects and celebrates the cultural diversity of the kingdom of God.

“And a little child shall lead them.”

The Last Straw

John the Baptist was a peaceful man, living a hermit’s life of prayer in the desert and eating a simple diet of locusts (they are kosher and quite tasty) and wild honey—until God called him to warn people to repent. The end of the age was at hand. Messiah was coming. John’s ministry involved him in baptizing, or mikvah: immersing a person’s body in water as a form of ritual cleansing—in this case, the cleansing of repentance and preparation for the coming rule and reign of God. People flocked to John by the thousands, but it seemed he wasn’t interested in building his own following. He was adamant that he was no messiah himself, just sent to pave the way and ready the children of Israel for the Promised One. Yet still everyone held their breath, wondering what this could mean? Could this really be the end? Was Messiah, Son of David, really coming? And when he came, would he restore the kingdom to Israel?

Then one day, Herod Antipas—a sort of petty king whom Rome suffered to rule over part of Palestine—brought home a new wife.  The Herodian dynasty had never been short of scandal. His father Herod the Great had had several wives and had not been shy about eliminating one, or even his own children, if they stood in his way or threatened the security of his throne. Antipas had a half-brother Philip, who ruled a neighboring kingdom, and it was there that Herod fell in love with Philip’s wife Herodias, who was also his niece (another family habit). The two agreed to marry once Herod could divorce his wife. Since they could not force Philip to divorce his, Herod just took her. Now he was living openly with the wife of another man, his brother’s woman. That was too much to bear. John found the word of God burning inside him day after day, until one day he spoke out and told Herod, “It is against God’s law for you to have her.”

For all Herod’s failings—and they were many—he was not a completely hardened man. True, he was the spoiled son of a ruthless tyrant, and a bit of a tyrant in his own right. Yet somehow, there was still some spark of the fear of God left in him. He knew John was right, and perhaps in some way he regretted marrying this woman. Nevertheless, while Herod feared the judgment of God, he also feared what other people thought, especially his wife Herodias, who nursed a grudge against John. This “man of God” made her feel like a prostitute, and she didn’t like it. She was queen, after all. This dusty little prophet needed to learn his place. He would pay for his insult.

Comedian Charlie Chaplin once told in an interview about a role he had always wanted to play. It was the story of a man, a meek, milquetoast type character, who arrives at a posh dinner party, where everything starts to go wrong for him. The butler mispronounces his name. At dinner a guest drops butter on his coat, and a servant spills soup down his neck. Somehow he manages to bear each and every indignity with a patient smile, assuring his hosts that “it’s quite all right,” until the final humiliation is served. It is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Suddenly, this normally mild-mannered man goes berserk. He runs amok, smashing china and frightening the guests, and at last sets fire to the house.

Have you ever experienced a “last straw” moment? No, not in the sense of resorting to violence and mayhem, but in the spiritual sense of looking at the world around you—the sin, the suffering, the injustices? There comes a moment when patient endurance is not enough. You find you must take action, you must speak out, you must say something, do something. It is the last straw, and what you experience is a kind of holy rage.

Throughout Scripture we see various men and women of God, some leaders, others just ordinary people, experiencing just such a moment that forever changes the direction of their lives: Elijah, outraged by the power and influence of the prophets of Baal and Asherah in Israel, summons them to a showdown at Mount Carmel. Ezra, a priest and teacher of the law, learning of the unfaithfulness of his fellow priests and Levites in marrying foreign women, is appalled, publicly tears his clothes, and repents on behalf of the nation, an act which leads others to do the same. Esther, learns of a diabolical plot against her people and risks her life to plead with the king.

For John the Baptist this moment came when he saw the monarchy sink to a new low, making the little kingdom a laughing stock—and just at the time when the nation was supposed to be preparing their hearts for the coming of the Messiah. What a mess! Day after day, God’s word simmered inside him, until finally he spoke out. He spoke truth to power—which is always a risky business but no less a necessary one if we really claim to love God and our neighbor. Notice he did not insult or abuse Herod. He did not grab an assault weapon, or strap a bomb to himself. He did not even call the king a “sinner.” He just humbly and respectfully but firmly told the truth: “It is not lawful for you to have her”—that is, it is not lawful under Jewish law for you to have your brother’s wife, while your brother is still living. For goodness’ sake, there were basic laws of decency practiced even among Gentiles!

What makes you angry? Have you ever experienced a holy rage? I don’t mean the petty peeves we encounter daily, like people who drive 25 mph in the left lane or someone who squeezes the toothpaste from the middle of the tube. I mean, what really grieves your spirit? What makes your heart burn?  Maybe it’s when you hear of a child who has been abused or neglected or abandoned, or you see a homeless person shivering on the sidewalk with passersby stepping over him as though he were a puddle, or something worse. Maybe you’re grieved by the drugs and violence of our inner cities where hope and opportunity are strange and foreign sounding words, or by the unbridled greed of corporate power working hand in hand with government to steal from the poor and give to the rich. Maybe it’s when you hear of a woman who aborted her child because she did not see any other way out.

Sometimes we ask ourselves, why isn’t anyone doing anything? And all we hear is an echo. When the only voice you hear is your own, guess what? Tag, you’re it! Sometimes it takes a painful event to bring an issue home to us, to put a face on injustice or wrong, one that could even bring us face to face with a major crisis in our world, a crisis so daunting that we wonder, what can one person do?

Many years ago, a friend of mine named Zack was just out of school and, like most young people, experiencing financial problems. His employer could not afford to pay him a fulltime salary, so he had to work another part-time job waxing floors. In December of that year, his part of the Midwest was hit by a massive storm. The city where he lived was flooded when a levee gave way and the river began pouring into the streets. Then the temperature suddenly plummeted and all that water froze. His car was trapped in a block of ice, and it took him days, using a pickaxe, to get it free. But it was too late. The water had damaged the engine, and he had to sell the car for scrap. Unable to buy another, he resolved to take the bus.

Zack had grown up in a privileged, upper middleclass neighborhood. It was probably the first time he had ever had to take a bus to work, or anywhere for that matter. As he looked at the faces of his fellow passengers that morning, his heart began to break. He saw a variety of expressions: some careworn with poverty, others broken by it; some looked angry or determined, others lonely and forgotten due to age or mental illness.

That Sunday, he took a bus to church and, arriving just in time for the service, sat in the front pew. During the worship, he felt his chest heaving. He began to sob hot, angry, projectile tears. The pastor, seeing this and knowing my friend’s economic situation, assumed he was only weeping over his lost car. Annoyed, the pastor said, “Some of you people need to grow up!”

“He thought I was crying about my car,” Zack chuckled when he told me. “I wasn’t. I was weeping over the poverty I had seen that morning. But the pastor was right about ‘growing up.’” It was the first time my friend had ever felt such anger and grief over the poverty around him. He found he hated poverty. He detested what it did to people: the human toll, on health, ignorance, the terrible choices people were forced to make, the way they were pushed around by those above them on the economic ladder. He was angry enough that day to try to do something. ”Lord,” he prayed, “I’m not sure what one person can do, but I’m willing to try, even if I fail or the impact is very small.”

Over the next few months he started a food pantry in his own basement. He also boldly asked the session of his church for a certain amount of their budget to be set aside each month to help the poor with rent, utilities, and medicine. They must have seen his passion because they gladly agreed. As the pantry quickly grew, he added both a clothing and job banks, trying to match the unemployed with local opportunities. “Probably most of the people’s problems were way bigger than my resources could handle,” he told me. “Yet I found I could still love them. Often we avoid or push people away because we don’t know how to help them. Well, I found I didn’t have to fix all their problems. All I had to do was listen. Listen and love. That was a start. Very simple, but it’s transformed me in ways I never would have imagined.” Funny how one little bus ride changed the course of his life.

Today that pantry has grown to be the largest in the city where he lives and it is staffed with scores of volunteers. Each month they give away literally tons of food. My friend is an advocate for the poor in his community. He is just an average guy, no special degree, but people come from miles around because they have heard he cares. It’s still just a drop in the bucket of the poverty problem in this country, but it is a start.

At other times, a holy rage has caused an individual to confront one of the major injustices in our society. In July 1854 in New York City, a young 24-year-old schoolteacher boarded a horse-drawn streetcar to get to work. It was Sunday, and she was late for her part-time job as a church organist. She boarded a car of the Third Avenue Railroad Company and was promptly asked to step off.  Most public transportation in those days was run by private companies, and they could refuse any passenger they wished. She was told by the conductor that the car was full, and she would have to get off. When she pointed out that that was not the case—there were still plenty of seats—she was then informed that the other passengers were “bothered” by her presence. Still she refused to move. At that point, she was physically manhandled, her bonnet pulled down, her clothing torn and soiled, but still she stood her ground, calmly but resolutely, until at the next stop police were called, and she was forcibly removed from the car.

You see, Lizzie Jennings was an African-American woman, and while this was probably not the first time she had encountered such prejudice, on this particular day, she had had enough. It was her last straw. She could not let it go. A movement was formed among leaders in the black community, a lawsuit was filed, and the following year a verdict was given. She was awarded damages, the judge saying that black people “had the same rights as others and could neither be excluded by any rules of the Company, nor by force or violence.”

It is amazing the trouble God will get us into—oh if we will only let him! This woman was not a terrorist. She was not the member of some subversive organization. She was a schoolteacher and a church organist. She was a Christian, like you and I, and one day she had simply had enough. She realized that to continue to bow to injustice and bullying was neither righteous nor loving, and that if no one else was going to do anything, she would. She was the Rosa Parks of her day.

Yet doesn’t Scripture tell us to “obey the authorities and every form of government?” Yes and no. When government fulfills its God-ordained role to maintain order, administer justice, reward the good and punish the wicked, then yes, we are to be model citizens. But when government arrogates to itself powers that belong to God alone, telling us what we are allowed to think or say, or worship; when instead of being guardians of justice, government itself becomes unjust, when the good are punished and the wicked rewarded; then we are called upon to obey God, not man. We are called on, not only to pray something, but to say something, to speak up, even to resist— peacefully, lovingly, but firmly and courageously. So the context determines which track we are to take. That is what Jesus meant when he said, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.”

There is a cost to speaking out, of course; there is a price tag to taking action. Our holy rage brings us up against Satan’s kingdom. Whenever you push against the enemy’s kingdom, he pushes back. So we need to be both shrewd and prayerful. But then, there is a cost to everything we do, isn’t there? Whether we do something or nothing, there is a cost. Sometimes the cost of doing nothing is far greater than doing something, even if that something leads us to make the ultimate sacrifice. Over the centuries, yes, every single day, some believers are called upon to lay down their lives for the gospel, for truth, for justice, for what is right and decent.

When it came to speaking the truth, Kaj Munk was no ordinary man. He lived in Denmark in the first half of the twentieth century, and he believed that faith must find its expression in action. As a pastor, Munk also took his ordination vows seriously and, like his Master, tried to keep the wolves from entering the sheep pen. The wolves he fought so tenaciously from his pulpit and with his pen, were much the same as in John’s day or ours: fear, compromise, lies, expediency, racism, religiosity, materialism, greed. He spoke out against the exploitation of workers, against poverty and hunger, prejudice, the persecution of Jews, totalitarianism, the corruption of the state church, as well as the cruelty and injustice of the Nazis and their Danish henchmen.

In 1940 when the Nazis occupied his beloved country, Kaj Munk spoke truth to power and did it so eloquently and fearlessly that he seemed like another John the Baptist. “The goodness of God,” he said, “as we see it in Jesus is meek and long-suffering, but never compromises with evil.” So when the Nazis threatened to deport Danish Jews, he said to his fellow Danes, “To be silent in the face of sin is to speak the language of the devil.”

Compromise was certainly not in this man’s vocabulary. Even as they hung on his every word and gulped down his courage like interned prisoners ravenous for bread, his parishoners, friends, neighbors, and fellow Danes, living under a cruel occupation, knew Kaj Munk was not long for this world. Years ago I happened to speak to a Danish woman who had grown up there during the war. She said that Munk was so bold, so outspoken, everyone held their breath knowing he would be killed by the Gestapo, probably sooner than later.

Munk had experienced his last straw on a trip to neighboring Norway. The Germans had just invaded that country, too, and on the following Sunday he attended church there, expecting to hear an inspiring message of hope and courage. But the Norwegian preacher, perhaps out of fear, made no reference to these events. Nothing. Upon returning to Denmark, Munk wrote an article to a pastoral magazine, saying,

“What is therefore, our task today? Shall I answer: ‘Faith, hope, and love’? That sounds beautiful. But I would say—courage. No, even that is not challenging enough to be the whole truth. Our task today is recklessness. For what we Christians lack is not psychology or literature…we lack a holy rage—the recklessness which comes from the knowledge of God and humanity… (“The Task of the Pastor Today,” 1941)

What is this holy rage? It is, as another preacher put it so eloquently,

“The ability to feel anger when justice lies prostrate on the streets…a holy anger about the things that are wrong in the world… against the ravaging of God’s earth…when little children must die of hunger and the tables of the rich are sagging with food…at the senseless killing of so many, and against the madness of militaries… against complacency. To restlessly seek that recklessness that will challenge and seek to change human history until it conforms to the norms of the Kingdom of God.” (Allan Boesak)

I know what you are thinking. Recklessness? Rage?  Anger? Since when have these been considered cardinal Christian virtues? Yet I think we know what they are really talking about, do we not? Rage here is used as a figure of speech. They are talking not about physyical violence but righteous indignation, not foolhardiness but holy boldness. No not wrath, hatred and bloodshed, not anger out of control, but a call to action; that we would get angry enough to get up off the pew and do something, to be reckless—not reckless folly in the eyes of God, though certainly in the eyes of the world.

Did not our Lord’s heart burn when he saw the sick and suffering?  Did he not pour forth righteous indignation when he witnessed the hypocrisy of the scribes and Pharisees? Did he not take a courageous stand when he saw the greedy corruption of the temple system? Did not his love and obedience lead him to the “recklessness” of the Cross? The world calls that “foolishness” and a “waste.” For the wisdom of God is foolishness in the eyes of the world. As Paul states “the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom and the weakness of God stronger than human strength.”

It is a funny thing about this kind of reckless courage. Just like fear, it can be contagious. Munk was murdered, shot through the head by the Gestapo, his body dumped in a frozen ditch by the side of the road—a warning for those who would dare to stand up and speak truth to the forces of the Third Reich, which issued a further warning about staging any big funeral or mass demonstrations for Munk. The Danish Church, too, issued a formal warning to its members not to further antagonize the Nazis. Nevertheless, a few days later, four thousand Danes showed up to bury Kaj Munk. No violence, no screaming or shaking of fists, just four thousand Danes—men, women and children—standing in the bitter cold, with hats off, to pay tribute to their fallen brother, as if to warn the Nazis in return: “For every one of us you cut down, four thousand will spring up.” Instead of chilling the passions of national resistance, Munk’s death had the opposite effect, sparking outrage within the church and without. His laying down his life for the truth gave his fellow countrymen even more courage to carry on his work.

His courage in writing and speaking so boldly while he was alive helped to mobilize this little country. In 1943 within a matter of weeks, over 8,000 Danish Jews—often just a few at a time, in everything from cargo ships to kayaks—were spirited across the sea to safety in Sweden. Through this action 95 percent of Danish Jewry was saved from deportation to the concentration camps, and of that 5% who were sent to the camps, because of the persistent action and relentless pressure placed upon German officials by Danish leaders, 99% survived to return home after the war. It is one of the most amazing and courageous, corporate humanitarian acts in human history—ordinary Danes who felt, when push came to shove, that they must obey God rather than man.

Have you ever experienced a last straw? Have you ever felt this holy rage? If not, I hope that you will, and when you do, may the Lord give you wisdom. May he guide your hands and feet to make waves, and anoint your mind and lips to raise a gale on the self-satisfied seas of injustice.

And remember, as Pastor Munk once preached, “the signs of the Christian Church have been the Lion, the Lamb, the Dove, and the Fish…but never the chameleon.”

Awakening the Sleeping Giant: Finney on Christian Responsibility in the Political Arena

Charles Grandison Finney (1792-1875) was a Presbyterian evangelist and perhaps the most influential figure in a wave of revival known as America’s Second Great Awakening. For his systematic approach to facilitating conversions, he is commonly called the “father of modern revivalism.”

Reacting to Protestant (chiefly Calvinist) orthodoxy, which he felt put stumbling blocks in the way of conversion, Finney still receives criticism for his distortion of the doctrines of the atonement and justification. While his orthodoxy remains in many ways questionable, there is no doubting Finney’s profound influence in shaping the history and character of American Protestantism.

By the 1840s revivalism had begun to wane, but its impact continued in the various social and political movements aimed at reforming American society, such as temperance, women’s rights, and especially abolitionism. Like many leaders of this Second Awakening (1790-1840), Finney was an ardent and outspoken opponent of slavery. So passionately did he believe in the cause that, immediately upon their conversion, he would sign new believers up for the abolitionist movement.

In 1851 Finney became President of Oberlin College, the first to admit both women and blacks along with white men. In the following year he gave a series of lectures or sermons. In one of them (“Guilt Modified by Ignorance”), he takes as his text Acts 17:30 (Paul’s speech at the Areopagus):  that God frequently overlooks sin where there is ignorance, but with increasing light comes greater guilt and responsibility. To illustrate his point, he applies the principle to some of the great moral movements of his day, most particularly the institution of slavery in the United States.

In 1850 Congress had passed a series of legislation regarding the future status of new territories (whether they were to be free or slaveholding). Called the Compromise of 1850, the legislation was designed to diffuse growing tensions between North and South and to avoid Southern secession. Part of this compromise was the notorious Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, which put teeth in an earlier law by requiring law enforcement in all the States to arrest suspected runaway slaves. Even private citizens in free States could be forced to participate in a slave’s apprehension or detention.  Northerners were outraged at such an unjust and flagrantly pro-slavery law, and several free States passed their own legislation enabling judges to ignore the claims of slaveholders. The Act and its abuses did more to inflame abolitionist passions in the North, and the free States’ laws more to enrage the South, than any other single cause of the Civil War.

In his sermon Finney states,

For a long time this subject was scarcely discussed at all. Slavery was abolished so quietly and gradually in the Northern States, that but little general discussion was excited…they did not notice the gradual encroachments of the slave power upon the general government…Now men generally understand the relations of slavery to the national government. The startling fact is but too apparent that our Union is virtually a slaveholding state, and that Congress have seriously undertaken to make the entire domain of our country a slaveholding land. They enact their Fugitive Slave Bill into so-called law, and then send their commissioned agents into the free states, upon free soil, to compel free men, whose souls abhor slavery, to become slave-catchers, and to deliver up unto their masters or claimants, the servant that has escaped — in the very face of God’s own command to the contrary, not to say also in the very face of every dictate of humanity.

For Finney the dire situation raised new and important issues regarding “political action, the pulpit, and the duty of Christian men.”

…[T]he question what we, as Christian men shall do under this monstrous oppression is really momentous. The question now has taken this form; shall we individually and personally aid in making men slaves? …We did not expect when we entered into this Union, that we were to be dragooned into the business of slave-hunting. We did not calculate then to become the tools of the slave power, to help make men found on free soil slaves….Before and during the American revolution, there was much more political discussion in the pulpit than there is now…Indeed the great questions of the revolution were all discussed in the pulpit…”The pulpit thundered and lightened on the subject of liberty.” The consequence was the true ideas of liberty were understood, and came to have a living development in the public mind…Who needs be told that ministers then met their responsibilities to the state and to the public weal, fearlessly and boldly? Who does not know that all these questions were then blended with prayer…

But ministers in our day have become afraid to stand forth and speak as honest, fearless men on this subject, and political men have become fearful and sensitive lest the pulpit should utter its voice for freedom. But why this sensitiveness of politicians? And why this timidity in the heralds of the gospel? Have not all Christian men political duties to perform? Ought they not to search out these duties, and settle in the fear of God all the great questions they involve, and then meet their political responsibilities in the fear of God and for the welfare of the nation?

Finney believed America’s two-party system, which had hitherto been a blessing for its inherent balance, had ultimately failed to offer any solution to slavery and instead had effectively delivered the nation over to the slave powers. It was now up to the church:

It is not generally considered that neither of the two great political parties can manage this question of slavery at their option…the thing I would say is, that neither of them can control the subject of slavery. Both parties therefore concede to the South all they ask. For example, they both accede to the Compromise acts, Fugitive law included, and affirm this law to be “a finality.” This done, they cry…Drop the question of slavery, and no longer make it in any degree a political issue…Shall the Christian church accede to this? Shall we let this entire subject alone, and go in for contention of the other issues as if they had any importance worth naming in the comparison?

Until matters assumed their present form, a multitude of Christians acted conscientiously with one or the other of these great parties…Many conscientious men thought that they could do most good in that course… But now it is not so much as pretended that any good results will ensue from acting with either of the great parties…Nobody contends that under the control of either of these great parties, there is, at present, the faintest hope of repealing or even modifying the Fugitive Slave Bill, or getting one good thing for truth or righteousness. Therefore, I ask, can any good man hold on to either of those parties– for no good object whatever — not even the promise of any good to the cause of the slave being held out as an inducement?

… Do you ask, What ought Christian men to do? Doubtless they ought to use all their legitimate influence against the Fugitive Slave Bill, and against all the political aggressions of slavery upon our free land and government. Doubtless they ought to vote for freedom as against slavery, and speak out in no mistakable words and tones, till the nation shall hear and shall purge itself from all national patronage of this horrible system.

…As soon as light prevails on this subject, men can no longer go on in the same course of sustaining the system, without the greatest guilt. It will not answer to substitute evasions, and dodging and side issues in place of real repentance and true reform. To evade the claims of truth thus serves not to acquit the soul before God or man, but only to strengthen depravity and harden the heart.

The solution, Finney believes, lies in awakening the sleeping giant, the church:

…Refusal to repent when light reveals sin and duty, must hasten the destruction of any nation or people under heaven…The governments of the earth, if they resist the light that breaks in upon them, are sure to be destroyed…No Christian nation since the world began has been able to stand against the united prayers and testimony of God’s church. No one has had strength to resist any reform which God’s people have unitedly demanded…

This principle applies to all organizations, benevolent or ecclesiastical. If they resist reform when growing light demands it, God will be against them, and His chariot will grind them to powder! What does He want of a church or a benevolent society that resists reform when light and truth demand it, and sets itself in array against the progress of His cause? He knows how to use them for beacons of warning if they refuse to be used as instruments of progress in doing good. Therefore if any people or associate body will not receive and obey the light, their ruin is sure…

…What then shall we do with offending nations, and with our own government when they impose upon us fugitive laws? Of course we are to set about their reformation. Do you ask, how? The way is open. The Christian church has it in her power to reform this nation. She has long held the balance of political power, and she holds it still. Let all Christian men say, “We will not sustain slavery; the men who are in league with it cannot have our votes.” — and the thing would be done. Let all Christian voters be united in this, and they could just as certainly elect the man of their choice as there should be another election. Let them try it. They have the consciences of men on their side, and they would find strength and help rising up where they did not expect it. If they did not succeed in the next election, they surely would succeed soon. Ere another election came round, politicians would say, “We must honor and please the church,” just as they now say, “We must honor the South.”

In exercising this power,  Christians must act firmly, yet with gentleness and respect:

But the way to do this is not to turn slaveholders ourselves, and force our opinions down men’s throats, and cast them from the church if they do not vote our ticket. The right way is to enlightenment on the subject — to treat them kindly and yet with great fidelity, and to try to bring them over to the truth and the right by reasoning and persuasion. Substantially we should pursue the same methods of labor and influence that we adopt when we would change men’s position on any moral question, the same as when we would convert sinners from sin to God.

…But again the question returns, what shall be done by the church to abolish slavery? I answer, Let all her organizations speak out with decision and firmness …Who does not believe that it is in the power of the great Christian organizations of our country to reform that society?

…Uncharitable measures never succeed. If even the Apostles, with all their miracles and tongues, had gone out with a bad spirit, they must have labored in vain. God suffers His own cause to experience a temporary defeat, rather than give success to men of a bad spirit. I have no doubt that in many cases the anti-slavery cause has been thrown aback by the bad spirit of its advocates. If we have erred in this matter, we must repent. We can never hope for the blessing of God until we do.

…If, now, our General Government needs reform, (of which I have no doubt,) then let us forthwith employ all constitutional means and measures for its reform. Of the wisdom of doing all this no one can for a moment doubt.

…As for voting for either of the two great party candidates, on a strongly pro-slavery platform, that question is in my mind easily settled. I can do no such thing. Sooner shall I cut off my own right hand than suffer it to drop a vote for such men, standing on such platforms.

…In some respects I am sorry, and in some respects I am not sorry to be called on to say so much on this subject of slavery — its issues, and the duties of Christians in regard to it. There is the greatest need that these things should be investigated and well considered. The public mind will and must act on these questions, and the action taken is continually affecting the honor of Christianity and the welfare of the church and of souls, most fundamentally. It cannot, therefore, be amiss to bring this subject into the pulpit. Let it engage your serious attention, and more your hearts to seek divine wisdom in prayer.  

It makes one grieve to consider that if the American church had taken to heart Finney’s call to repentance and been able to unite around this issue, a million lives might have been spared and the holocaust of civil war averted. Yet if he is guilty of anything, it is perhaps in naively underestimating  the spiritual stranglehold slavery, greed, and racism had on the nation, and on much of the church; that a tipping point had already been reached, and further Northern agitation would only inflame an already alienated and recalcitrant South.

Nevertheless, in hindsight we ought not to blame Finney for being hopeful, even as he prophetically paints a bloody picture of God’s impending judgment. His words and vision, too, ought still to find resonance in our hearts today, as our nation struggles under the tyranny of old injustices and new masters. Can the church disenthrall herself? Can the sleeping giant awaken?

Robbing the Poor: Chrysostom on Wealth and Poverty

St. John Chrysostom (c. 347-407) was an archbishop, preacher, theologian, and reformer who lived in the early days of the Byzantine empire.  His eloquence and rhetorical gifts posthumously earned him the sobriquet “Goldenmouth” (Gk. Χρυσόστομος).

One of Chrysostom’s most enduring legacies lies in the homilies that fortunately have come down to us—in the hundreds. A constant theme in these sermons is Christ’s concern for the poor. John was often more bold than tactful, especially when it came to the excesses of wealth. He is often called an ascetic. Yet it must be pointed out that he was not opposed to wealth per se, but against the misuse of it, especially conspicuous consumption and the cruel chasm between rich and poor that characterized the great cities of the empire. While his candor on the subject delighted the masses, it caused him no end of trouble with the ruling classes and clergy. He once railed against the foolish fad among wealthy women of using silver chamber pots.

…When Christ is famishing, do you revel in such luxury, act so foolishly? …Another, made after the image of God, is perishing of cold; and you’re furnishing yourself with such things as these? O the senseless pride! …Do you pay such honor to your excrements as to receive them in silver? I know you’re shocked at hearing this; but it’s the women who make such things who ought to be shocked and the husbands that minister to such distempers. For this is wantonness, and savageness, and inhumanity, and brutishness, and lasciviousness. (Homily 7 on Colossians)

He also referred to an emperor’s wife, known for her extravagance, as “Herodias.” That one earned him banishment for life.

Chrysostom lived at a time not unlike our own, when greed and corruption were rampant; the rich grew richer and the poor poorer; the wealthy feasted and spent money recklessly while the lower classes starved or groaned under crushing debt; and no one called the powerful to account. He treated with primary importance the Lord’s warning that our salvation depends on how we treat the poor, who are the embodiment of Christ.

Let’s listen in on a few of these sermons to hear what he has to teach us:

…[H]e is not rich who is surrounded by many possessions, but he who does not need many possessions; and he is not poor who possesses nothing, but he who requires many things. We ought to consider this to be the distinction between poverty and wealth. When, therefore, you see any one longing for many things, esteem him of all men the poorest, even though he possess all manner of wealth; again, when you see one who does not wish for many things, judge him to be of all men most affluent, even if he possess nothing. For by the condition of our mind, not by the quantity of our material wealth, should it be our custom to distinguish between poverty and affluence…

…[I]t is as if we were sitting in a theatre, and looking at the players on the stage. Do not, when you see many abounding in wealth, think that they are in reality wealthy, but dressed up in the semblance of wealth. And as one man, representing on the stage a king or a general, often may prove to be a household servant, or one of those who sell figs or grapes in the market; thus the rich, man may often chance to be the poorest of all. For if you remove his mask and examine his conscience, and enter into his inner mind, you will find there great poverty as to virtue, and ascertain that he is the meanest of men. As also, in the theatre, as evening closes in, and the spectators depart, those who come forth divested of their theatrical ornaments, who seemed to all to be kings and generals, now are seen to be whatever they are in reality; even so with respect to this life, when death comes, and the theatre is deserted, when all, having put off their masks of wealth or of poverty, depart hence, being judged only by their works, they appear, some really rich, some poor; some in honor, some in dishonor. Thus it often happens, that one of those who are here the most wealthy, is there most poor…

…This also is robbery—not to impart our good things to others…It is said to be deprivation when we retain things taken from others. And in this way, therefore, we are taught that if we do not bestow alms, we shall be treated in the same way as those who have been extortioners. Our Lord’s things they are, from whencesoever we may obtain them. And if we distribute to the needy we shall obtain for ourselves great abundance. And for this it is that God has permitted you to possess much—not that you should spend it in fornication, in drunkenness, in gluttony, in rich clothing, or any other mode of luxury, but that you should distribute it to the needy. And just as if a receiver of taxes, having in charge the king’s property, should not distribute it to those for whom it is ordered, but should spend it for his own enjoyment, he would pay the penalty and come to ruin; thus also the rich man is, as it were, a receiver of goods which are destined to be dispensed to the poor—-to those of his fellow-servants who are in want. If he then should spend upon himself more than he really needs, he will pay hereafter a heavy penalty. For the things he has are not his own, but are the things of his fellow-servants.

…[N]ot to share our own riches with the poor is a robbery of the poor, and a depriving them of their livelihood; and that which we possess is not only our own, but also theirs. (Discourse 2 on the Rich Man and Lazarus)

Tell me, then, what is the source of your wealth? From whom did you receive it, and from whom the one who transmitted it to you? “From his father and his grandfather.” But can you go back through the many generations and show the acquisition just? It cannot be. The root and origin of it must have been injustice. Why? Because God in the beginning did not make one man rich and another poor. Nor did he later show one treasures of gold and deny the other the right to search for it. He left the earth free to all alike. Why then, if it is common, do you have so many acres of land, while your neighbor has no portion of it? ….(Homily 12 on 1Tim)

I am often reproached for continually attacking the rich. Yes, because the rich are continually attacking the poor. But those I attack are not the rich as such, only those who misuse their wealth. I point out constantly that those I accuse are not the rich but the rapacious. Wealth is one thing, covetousness another. Learn to distinguish.  (Homily on the Fall of Eutropius)

Do you wish to honor the Body of the Savior? Do not despise him when he is naked. Do not honor him in church with silk vestments while outside he is naked and numb with cold. He who said, “This is my body,” and made it so by his word, is the same that said, “You saw me hungry and you gave me no food. As you did it not to the least of these, you did it not to me.” Honor him then by sharing your property with the poor. For what God needs is not golden chalices but golden souls.

…It is such a slight thing I beg…nothing very expensive…bread, a roof, words of comfort. [If the rewards I promised hold no appeal for you] then show at least a natural compassion when you see me naked, and remember the nakedness I endured for you on the cross…I fasted for you then, and I suffer for you now; I was thirsty when I hung on the cross, and I thirst still in the poor, in both ways to draw you to myself to make you humane for your own salvation. (Homily 50 on Matthew)

Do you wish to see his altar? …This altar is composed of the very members of Christ…This altar you can see lying everywhere, in the alleys and in the agoras and you can sacrifice upon it anytime…invoke the spirit not with words but with deeds. (Homily 20 on 2Corinthians)

 You eat in excess; Christ eats not even what he needs. You eat a variety of cakes; he eats not even a piece of dried bread. You drink fine Thracian wine; but on him you have not bestowed so much as a cup of cold water. You lie on a soft and embroidered bed; but he is perishing in the cold…You live in luxury on things that properly belong to him…At the moment, you have taken possession of the resources that belong to Christ and you consume them aimlessly. Don’t you realize that you are going to be held accountable? (Homily 48 on Matthew)