Christ Episcopal Church in Ponte Vedra, Florida, is the kind of church every pastor, rector, or preacher dreams of. It’s got children running about everywhere. It’s building yet another parking lot for reasons that are immediately obvious on any given weekend. It has a service on Saturday afternoon and another on Sunday afternoon in order to accommodate the folk who can’t come to one of the three traditional services or two contemporary ones that take place on Sunday. In addition, and more or less smished into the middle of all of this on Sunday mornings, there is a Rector’s Forum that takes care of direct instruction for adults in Christian living. Beyond all of that, the people have to be about as lively and animated as any group of folk gathered anywhere on a Sabbath morning. I know, because I was there eight weeks ago today, and I haven’t gotten over it yet.
I can’t claim to be a preacher—and God knows I never, ever wanted to be a pastor or rector—but I can talk. In fact, I’ll talk to anybody who’ll give me half a chance. And Christ Church, to my great joy, did just that. It was the 6th of July and technically still a holiday weekend, though the technicality did not seem to make any difference to the parishioners’ intention to be present for worship.
The nave or seating area of Christ Episcopal is built to be something close to theatre in the round. There is a platform or raised chancel that holds the altar, the lecterns, and the clergy chairs, and is itself surrounded on three sides by rows and rows of pews. Talking from such a configuration is a natural stimulus for me, because it lets me wander about, turning first to one side and then another and back to the center, watching faces as I move. The minute I walked in on Sunday morning and saw the deployment of the pews, I knew we were in business, at least as far as I was concerned. What I had no concept of was the rest of what lay ahead.
To the back of the raised chancel was the organ, albeit discreetly hidden, and the choir loft, also more or less shielded from view. Right on schedule and in complete accord with standard Episcopal operating procedure, as the service began, the choir processed down the center aisle of the nave and up the three chancel steps to their place in the choir loft beyond. Behind the choir came the priest in charge of the service, with the officiating deacon and me in tow behind him. The service commenced, as the service always does in Anglican worship, with a collect or two, a hymn or two, and the reading of the day’s lessons from first the Old Testament and then from the gospel.
After the gospel lesson appointed for the day, it was my turn to stand up and move about that wondrous chancel, talking to all those shining faces and telling a story or two from the Bible. Episcopalians of whatever degree of enthusiasm do not appreciate overmuch homilizing. Ten minutes tops will do quite nicely, as a rule. In good time, I finished and sat down. The priest moved us through the recitation of the Creed, the prayers, the confession of sin, the absolution, and even through the passing of the peace and the parish announcements. At that point, he and the order of service both called for the offering to be taken. Again, right on schedule. What I hadn’t counted on was the offertory anthem.
The ushers were doing their thing with passing the collection plates up and down the rows when the organ commenced and from somewhere behind me there was the rustle of a human being rising to sing.
And then he did.
Oh, dear Lord in Heaven, he did:
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is tramping out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He has loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.
And then he let loose with “Glory! Glory! Hallelujah," and I could hardly breathe.
I had not heard the song in years. I had never heard the song as it was sung in those moments. It had nothing to do with a particular country and everything to do with the glory of being Christian, alive, and human:
I have read a fiery Gospel writ in burnished rows of steel;
“As you deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal”;
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
And then, as I thought I could bear no more. He sang:
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;
As He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free
While God is marching on….
Let us live to make men free. Never had I heard it sung that way before, and my heart sang with his from that moment on:
He is coming like the glory of the morning on the wave,
He is wisdom to the mighty, He is honor to the brave….
When the last “Glory!” was sung, there was a quiet in that place like none you could imagine or I could ever describe. Caught in the silence, the priest finally rose and tried to speak the first phrases of the doxology when suddenly, as if by common consent, he was drowned out by a roar of applause that rolled over everything else and up to the altar itself.
The man with the golden voice and the soul to give it content was a man named Walter Hook, at least according to the service leaflet. I never saw him before and greatly fear that I may never get to hear him again. But the thing I did find out about Walter Hook is that he is not a professional singer or a cleric, just a layman with a voice who loves to sing his experience as a Christian. And it has taken me these eight long weeks to find the words with which to try to thank him for what he gave me -- gave all of us -- that 4th of July Sunday.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! As God died to make men holy, let us live to make men free, while our God is marching on.
Yesterday morning, I started what would become an historic day with my favorite historian. As a young man, Vincent Harding was part of the inner circle of the southern freedom movement with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and later became one of the civil rights movement's best chroniclers and interpreters. Vincent has also been a mentor and trusted friend to me and to Sojourners for many years.
Vincent Harding was there at the Democratic Convention in 1964 when the party refused to seat the delegation from the Mississippi Freedom Party, and was close to its leader, famed civil rights activist Fanny Lou Hamer. When he told me that he would be there again this very night, at Invesco Field at Mile High in Denver, to witness the acceptance speech of the first African American to be nominated by any party for the presidency of the United States, he had tears in his eyes. Reflecting on the fact that this day was also the 45th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s most remembered "I Have A Dream" speech, at the historic 1963 March on Washington, was almost too much to believe for both of us.
"When it comes to being a multiracial democracy," Vincent said to me, "We are still a developing country." He went on to suggest that “this would be a real opportunity for a new conversation between white people over these next 69 days.” I wondered how many white Americans are ready to evaluate this young man, Barack Obama, in the way that King had hoped his children would one day be in that famous speech 45 years ago, "Not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character,” along with Obama’s policy ideas and capacity for leadership.
All the news reports have described well the unforgettable scene with 85,000 people under a clear and warm Colorado sky. There have been only a few other times in my life where I felt like I was actually witnessing history -- such as the inauguration of Nelson Mandela to be the first democratically elected president of South Africa.
But the many impressive speeches, spectacular entertainment, and eye-popping display of fireworks were all overshadowed by the speech. I’ve heard many of Barack Obama’s speeches, from his keynote at the 2004 Democratic Convention, to his address on religion and public life at our Call to Renewal (now Sojourners) conference in 2006, to many of his primary orations. But, as was almost universally recognized by the media commentators, this speech took Barack Obama’s message and campaign to another level. He was inspiring, as he has often been during this presidential campaign, but he also defined his meaning of the “change” he is calling for, more than he ever had before, so voters could either agree or disagree with his vision and policy plans.
Obama made it clear that he was ready and willing to debate John McCain, and yet he also made it clear that he would do so without attacking the character of his opponent. And while he challenged McCain’s record of ideas and leadership, Obama said his opponent was worthy of gratitude and respect from all Americans because of his service and sacrifices for the country. The sincere applause from the huge Democratic audience to Barack Obama's genuine recognition of McCain's patriotism was a high point of the night. I am hoping now to see that kind of applause to the recognition of Barack Obama’s remarkable American story and patriotism at the Republican Convention next week in St. Paul, where I will also be present. For his part, McCain offered a gracious comment on Barack Obama's night in Denver. He said, "Senator Obama, this is truly a good day for America. Too often the achievements of our opponents go unnoticed. So I wanted to stop and say, congratulations. How perfect that your nomination would come on this historic day. Tomorrow, we'll be back at it. But tonight, Senator, job well done."
Indeed, almost every one of the network analysts, across the political spectrum, said Obama’s speech last night was a job well done. David Gergen, a political veteran of both Republican and Democratic administrations and many campaigns and conventions, called Obama’s speech a “masterpiece.” Some of the cable talking heads seemed almost moved to tears, while others wasted no time in deconstructing and dissenting from the content of Obama’s address (all along predictable political lines), but almost no one disagreed that we had just seen a moment of magnificent American political oratory.
It was the kind of speech that could help the American people decide whether they agree or disagree with what Barack Obama proposes for America. My hope is that John McCain will also be evaluated on the clarity of his message and vision.
Once again, the personal story of Barack Obama also came through to a nation eager to evaluate his character, judgment, and leadership. And the picture of the Obama family afterward, on the stage with wife Michelle and daughters Malia and Sasha, provided a hopeful and heartwarming image of what family can be in a nation where so many of our families are unraveling. Both Obama’s ideas and character were very evident last night and throughout convention week, perhaps more so than at any time in this campaign.
Now John McCain has the opportunity to do the same thing next week. My next blog post will be from St. Paul, Minnesota.
In August 2006, before having ever heard the term "new monasticism," my husband, Jason, and I founded Radical Living, an intentional community in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn, New York. When I (Vonetta) was 12 years old, I emigrated from Guyana to Bed-Stuy, one of the poorest and most violent neighborhoods in New York City. I witnessed firsthand urban decay -- and renewal -- as well as the devastating effects of the crack epidemic.
Some of our neighbors, many of whom I have known since I was young, have been afflicted by drug addiction and poverty. They are not merely the nameless, faceless people you might read about or pass on the street. They are living souls made in the image of God. When a person applies for membership at Radical Living we explain that we want to live in community with people who desire to invest in the lives of their neighbors, regardless of their position in society. We are not interested in living with "tourists" who want to "experience the ghetto."
My husband and I are an interracial couple with a baby daughter, and it is important to us that our community, regardless of the predominant culture around us, is centered in Jesus and reflective of the diversity of the kingdom of God. Although our community -- 17 people who live in three houses around one block -- is blessed with diversity, we have a lot of work to do with regard to racial reconciliation. There are African Americans, Asians, immigrants, and first-generation Americans, and more than half our community are white folks. Although not as representative of our neighborhood as we could be, due to the rainbow of voices in our community we regularly discuss the role of minorities in the New Monastic movement. It is also due to these voices that we know how much work we have to do.
The key players in New Monasticism have made important strides in raising awareness of issues pertinent to disenfranchised members of our society, yet these leaders often make some of the same mistakes as their conservative counterparts. One of the 12 marks of New Monasticism is the "lament for racial divisions within the church and our communities, combined with the active pursuit of a just reconciliation." Although most do "lament" the racial divisions in our society, one is hard-pressed to find a leader in New Monasticism who is not a middle-class white male. However, the problem is not with their class, color, or gender, but that there has yet to be an "active pursuit" of reconciliation realized within the myriad of intentional communities that have sprouted across the U.S. And after some good private conversations with some those leaders, we agreed to open a public dialogue about this issue because by their very natures both this conversation and this movement aren't just about a handful of leaders. It's about every member of every community who needs to actively seek reconciliation.
Another of the 12 marks is to relocate "to the abandoned places of Empire." New Monastics have done this quite well. But sadly, years -- and sometimes decades -- after an intentional community has been planted in a minority neighborhood, the community's membership continues to remain predominantly (if not exclusively) white. What are the reasons for the membership to remain so homogenous? One thing is for certain: The idea of "us and them" is perpetuated when an intentional community does not actively seek to diversify its membership.
New Monastic communities need to be redemptive communities where all, regardless of ethnicity, national identity, or economic status, are invited to participate in the communal rhythm of Christian living. As Eliacin Rosario-Cruz, a friend and fellow communitarian, recently said, "The current wave of New Monasticism needs the life and spirit that minorities bring because it is a more complete expression of what the kingdom is, not the other way around."
The current generation of progressive Christians has done amazing work in broadening the social agenda among evangelicals, but now it's time that we trust what our hearts and minds believe and actively pursue the reconciliation we talk about. The next step, rather than being a voice for the "voiceless," is to hand the mic over to indigenous community leaders and ask them to facilitate the conversation so that we might grow and deepen in relationship with one another and with God.
Every one of us in this movement needs to plead with God to make us ministers of reconciliation. We must pray for eyes to see the structural racism perpetuated by unjust policies and a shared history of colonialism and slavery. Some of us will need to repent of inaction and empty rhetoric. Others simply need to heed what the Lord is already speaking. All of us will need to affirm affirmative action in our communal houses, and actively pursue reconciliation.
We are hopeful that the New Monastic movement will be a diverse, Christ-centered, Spirit-led movement. And if all of us in this conversation will extend transparency, grace, and love to one another, we will surely disable the structural racism that has infected the church for far too long. And then we will be able to truly proclaim Jubilee!
"Vote Out Poverty! Vote Out Poverty!" shouted the diverse group of clergy and faith leaders as they marched in downtown Cleveland, Ohio, at our ecumenical public witness event last October. That was the last time I saw Rep. Stephanie Tubbs Jones (D-Ohio) in person; she stood on the podium in the crisp October sunshine waiting for the crowd to arrive.
We had invited several elected officials to the Vote Out Poverty event to join with people of faith from across the country to renew God's vision for relational and economic justice, and to prioritize poverty in our public policy. Most of those officials deferred, claiming other commitments and the like. But not Stephanie (who preferred to be called by her first name). True to her character, and to her commitment to the poor and disenfranchised, that day she became the first elected officeholder in the nation to sign the Vote Out Poverty pledge, committing to develop plans to cut the number of Americans living in poverty by half over the next 10 years, and to help end extreme global poverty by achieving the Millennium Development Goals.
Stephanie was used to firsts, most importantly serving as the first African-American woman elected to represent Ohio in Congress. She was in her fifth term as the representative of the 11th Congressional District, which includes most of the east side of Cleveland. Stephanie was a revered public figure in Ohio, and two years ago she was re-elected to Congress with 83 percent of the vote.
Stephanie was at her best that brilliant Sunday afternoon last October. She was exuberant and full of life as she spoke to the gathered crowd, which included Jim Wallis and many Cleveland pastors and congregations, calling us all to higher purpose and common ground.
So, we were all shocked last week when Stephanie died suddenly at age 58 from a ruptured brain aneurysm while driving in Cleveland. Here in Ohio, we will honor Stephanie's life and work at her memorial service Saturday. She leaves her son, Mervyn Jr., her husband of 27 years, Mervyn, and many of her relatives. But it is in her compassionate life -- and her core commitment to the least of these -- that she is best remembered.
This past Tuesday evening at the Democratic National Convention, Ohio Governor Ted Strickland led the crowd in "a moment of celebration for everything she's given us." Later, Stephanie's "sister" Hillary Clinton honored Stephanie with glowing remarks on prime-time television. But here in Ohio, we know that Stephanie wouldn't have missed this convention for anything -- so we trust that she was there in spirit, lifting up, as she always had, those who needed her most. She will be deeply missed.
Rev. Virginia Lohmann Bauman is the Ohio field director for Sojourners
Congresswoman Stephanie Tubbs Jones was a Cleveland original. Stephanie never cared about “style points.” She only cared about passing public policy that served the common good. No one matched her passion, energy, or voice for the poor and vulnerable. Everyone wanted her on their side. She was ever present in her 11th Congressional District and was tireless in her advocacy for victims of predatory lending, the uninsured, the unemployed, and children. The news this week that 30 percent of Clevelanders are living in poverty would have caused her to redouble her efforts at the national level. One of her dreams was to become the first woman chair of the powerful Ways and Means Committee. Most certainly, she would have used that pulpit to the benefit of her constituents and the nation.
A woman of deep faith and a champion of the poor, one rarely encounters a person with the integrity, compassion, love for humanity, and political skills that Congresswoman Tubbs Jones possessed. Catholic social action in Cleveland lost a key ally. Our nation lost a marvelous public servant.
Tom Allio is director of the social action office of the Catholic Diocese of Cleveland, chair of the Ohio Coalition for Responsible Lending, and a Sojourners board member.
Coinciding with the visit of a dear friend who's spent the past few years working in Afghanistan for both development NGOs and (non-U.S.) government agencies, the DVD of Charlie Wilson's War recently arrived from Netflix. My friend recommends it. Also, I [heart] Philip Seymour Hoffman. And I can tolerate Tom Hanks in appropriate doses. But an op-ed by the real-life Charlie Wilson in yesterday's Washington Post makes me even more eager to watch it soon. He writes:
In a scene near the end of the movie "Charlie Wilson's War," after the mujaheddin victory over the invading Soviet military, congressional appropriators turn down my request for funds to rebuild Afghanistan's schools, roads and economy. If we had done the right thing in Afghanistan then -- following up our military support with the necessary investments in diplomacy and development assistance -- we would have better secured our own country's future, as well as peace and stability in the region. ...
[I]nstead of intensifying our diplomatic and humanitarian efforts to help the Afghans meet their postwar challenges, we simply walked away -- leaving a destroyed country that lacked roads, schools, and any plan or hope for rebuilding. Into this void marched the Taliban and Al-Qaeda, and we all know what happened after that.
Whenever I'm reminded of our support for the likes of the mujahadeen, Saddam Hussein's war against Iran, and Manuel Noriega in Panama, I can't help but wonder -- what future enemy are we currently arming and training? Where are we currently focusing on military aid when a more comprehensive approach is needed to create real security? (Pakistan, I'm looking in your direction ...)
Wilson issues this warning:
We simply cannot make the same mistake. The lesson here is about more than the good manners of reciprocating a favor. It takes much more to make America safe than winning on the battlefield. Had we remained engaged in Afghanistan, investing in education, health and economic development, the world would be a very different place today. The aftermath of a congressional committee's decision so long ago has turned out to be a warning that America is not immune to the problems of the very poorest countries. In today's world, any person's well-being -- whether he or she is in Kandahar, Kigali or Kansas -- is connected to the well-being of others.
We can avoid the need to spend so much on our military -- and put so many of our soldiers in harm's way -- simply by investing more in saving lives, creating stable societies and building economic opportunity.
Ryan Rodrick Beiler is the Web editor for Sojourners.
If you're among the growing number of voters who are disenchanted with both major parties, you may be considering a move to a third party. You're not alone. Some minor parties have seen significant growth in recent years. Oregon's Independent Party likely holds the record, with nearly 24,000 registered members since its inception a mere 18 months ago.
But before you make the leap to any third party, here are some questions you need to think about:
How important is winning to you? This is one of the most important considerations and one that few pundits, commentators, journalists, and political observers understand. Do minor party candidates want to win? Of course. Do they expect to? In most cases, no. What they want is automatic ballot access, and that means garnering a certain percentage of the vote. The more votes cast for their candidate, the more likely they won't have to endure the time-consuming petitioning process in the next election. They're building for the future, and they're accustomed to losing elections. A win for them, under the current political structure, is getting enough votes to secure their position on the ballot next time around.
Are you clear on where you stand on the issues? Do you have a well-defined political philosophy? Minor parties are not big tents. Most have well thought-out positions and tightly-worded platforms, and people who join these parties do so because they agree with those positions and platforms. If you disagree with any significant point, don't join thinking that your input may change their position. It won't. There's not a lot of diversity of opinion in most third parties, but you know where they stand, which is not always the case with the major parties.
Are you willing to get involved? Volunteers are the lifeblood of minor parties. Of course, you can still sit on the sidelines; no one will make you get involved. But the party will never grow and never achieve or retain the much-coveted ballot access without its volunteers.
Are you only interested in presidential races? If so, you'll be missing out on an opportunity to make a difference in your area. Minor parties are especially effective in legislative districts where one party essentially owns a congressional seat. Sometimes the opposing major party simply concedes and chooses to spend its resources in a district where they stand a chance at winning. Third parties come in and fill the void, showing incumbents that they shouldn't be so sure of themselves.
Can you take the heat? Be ready, because you'll get plenty of criticism. You'll be told you're wasting your vote and your candidate is a spoiler. The obvious retort is that a vote for a major-party candidate is wasted and goes to a different kind of spoiler, one who is ruining what could be a perfectly fine political system. The more mature answer would be that your candidate gave you someone you could vote for in good conscience, or whatever your honest answer is. You just need to be prepared to give it, over and over again.
If you're still feeling positive about third parties after all that, it may not be easy finding a party that satisfies both your political and your spiritual inclinations. But you have hundreds to choose from. Politics1 can fill you in on many of them. Here's a rundown of the three largest; each party likely has more than the number listed, since some states don't allow voters the option of registering with a specific minor party:
Constitution: 367,000 registered voters; expects to have ballot access in all 50 states by November. Baptist pastor Chuck Baldwin of Pensacola, Florida, is its presidential candidate; his running mate is Tennessee lawyer Darrell Castle. The pro-life party is in favor of states' rights, limited government and gun ownership, and against illegal immigration and open borders, U.N. interference in U.S. policy, undeclared unconstitutional wars ("such as Iraq and Afghanistan"), and free trade and international trade agreements such as NAFTA and GATT.
Green: 289,000 registered voters; the number of states with ballot access in 2008 is still undetermined. The presidential candidate is former Democratic Congresswoman Cynthia McKinney of Georgia; Bronx community organizer and hip-hop activist Rosa Clemente is her running mate. The party is in favor of abortion rights, same-sex marriage rights, amnesty for illegal immigrants, universal health care, reduction in deficit spending, gun control, drug legalization and fair trade, and opposes the war in Iraq, capital punishment, and school prayer.
Libertarian: 236,000 registered voters; has ballot access in 33 states so far. Former Republican Congressman Bob Barr of Georgia is the party's presidential nominee; Nevada businessman Wayne Allyn Root is his running mate. Beyond the "fiscally conservative, socially liberal" tag associated with it, the party is in favor of smaller government, lower taxes, and freedom from governmental interference (from its Web site: "Think of us as a group of people with a 'live and let live' mentality and a balanced checkbook.")
If, after investigating all the minor parties that America has to offer, you still haven't found one to your liking, you can always start your own. And you can find out how here.
O let the evil of the wicked come to an end,
but establish the righteous,
you who test the minds and hearts,
O righteous God.
God is my shield,
who saves the upright in heart.
God is a righteous judge,
and a God who has indignation every day.
Somebody came up to me in Denver and said, "At the Democratic Convention of 2008, faith is cool!" That is indeed a big change from recent years. As I have been saying at the many "faith forums" in Denver, faith must have a different and better role than it has had in politics these last few decades.
And I have been encouraged by the more "prophetic" role that faith has played here, deeper than the partisan use of faith in recent memory. At one of those faith panels, Rev. Otis Moss Jr., one of the most respected pastors in the black church and a great leader from the civil rights movement, spoke eloquently and directly to the question of prophetic integrity in politics. He said we must "keep alive the prophetic tradition in our society," and went on to say that there will always be "a healthy tension between the faith-based mission and government enterprises, but tension doesn't mean hostility." In the deep and melodic voice of wisdom and authority that Otis Moss is so known for, this distinguished man invoked the framework that his friend Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. offered for the proper relationship between faith and politics. King said that the churches (or other faith communities) must never try to be "the master of the state." Nor should we be the "servant of the state." Rather the community of faith must be "the conscience of the state."
Rev. Moss said "if the state should lose its conscience, the state will become brutal," and if those of us in the community of faith lose our capacity to be the conscience, we will "be guilty of the sin of omission." He then paraphrased John Stuart Mill, who said that should the state "dwarf" or repress its citizens, it will soon find that with "dwarfed citizens" no great things will be accomplished. He then laid out what it would mean to "engage" government in the most prophetic way. It was a lesson in faithful citizenship, which received an extended standing ovation.
Yesterday, we saw the first nomination of a black man for president of the United States in our history. Today is the 45th anniversary of King's historic "I have a dream" speech on a steamy day in Washington, D.C., in 1963. Tonight, Barack Obama accepts the nomination of his party, addresses 70,000 people at Mile High Stadium, and lays out his vision to the country. All around Denver today, the emotional feeling is one of witnessing history.
I am overwhelmed at the historic nature of what's happening this week, and it's important that we all think about this. It's important for me as a Mississippian. For me, I can't stop thinking of the Mississippi Freedom Democrats and Fannie Lou Hamer. I wish Hamer could be here.
In 1964 the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party (MFDP) arrived at the Democratic National Convention in Atlantic City with the goal of unseating the "regular Democrats" and representing their fellow Democrats from Mississippi.
The Freedom Democrats were civil rights pioneers attempting to engage the political process and give African Americans equal participation in our nation's democratic system. They wanted to vote. They wanted to participate. They wanted their voice to be heard.
The regular Democrats were the establishment. They were all white and were seeking to maintain the status quo, which was maintaining their control of the political process in Mississippi.
The Freedom Democrats stood for an America where everyone had a place at the table. The regular Democrats stood for an America where the white establishment had a place at the table while African Americans stood to the side taking what scraps were tossed to them.
Fannie Lou Hamer led the Mississippi Freedom Democrats. She was impoverished, a sharecropper with hands calloused from the back-breaking work of hand-picking cotton. She couldn't read. And she had lived a life with no say about her own choices. Speaking before the DNC credentials committee, Hamer proclaimed "Is this America?"
Hamer is also famous for telling America, "I am sick and tired of being sick and tired."
The Freedom Democrats were denied official recognition, but the MFDP kept up their agitation within the convention. The MFDP delegates borrowed passes from sympathetic northern delegates and took the seats vacated by the "regular" Mississippi delegates (most had left), only to be removed by the national party. When they returned the next day to find that convention organizers had removed the empty seats that had been there yesterday, the MFDP stayed to sing freedom songs.
This week, 44 years later, the Democratic Party at their national convention in Denver, Colorado, has nominated Sen. Barack Obama as their candidate for president of the United States.
The diverse Mississippi delegation of black and white, the heirs of the Freedom Democrats of 1964, many with direct connections with those who were there in 1964, cast their votes for this historic candidate.
Let's not forget the true nature of this historic week. Let's not forget the African Americans back in Mississippi who once couldn't vote, who lived under Jim Crow, and on Thursday night will watch a black man accept the nomination of the Democratic Party to lead this oldest active political party on the planet, to be their candidate for president of the United States. What will go through their minds?
Fannie Lou Hamer was right to ask in 1964, "Is this America?"
As I sit in my hotel room here in Denver, in 2008, I would love to be able to tell Hamer, "Yes ma'am it is. Yes, ma'am, this is America; it's your America. Yes, ma'am, because of your determination 44 years ago, in just a few hours a black man will stand on one of the globe's largest stages and demonstrate to us that this is indeed the America we hope for."
Burns Strider is former senior advisor and director of faith outreach for U.S. Sen. Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign, former advisor to House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, and currently a founder and partner of The Eleison Group.
I'm voting in this election, not with naivete but with sincere enthusiasm. Not with any messianic hopes, but with a deep sense of moral responsibility as a shareholder or steward of the richest, most dominant, and most well-armed nation in the world. I had another long talk with a friend a couple weeks back who, on religious grounds, is passionately against voting. He had read my earlier posts on the subject, but wasn't convinced to vote. Nor was I convinced by his counter-arguments to practice voting abstinence. But this piece posted on the emergent village site by Anthony Smith [a.k.a. Postmodern Negro] made me want to nudge my nonvoting friend once more. Anthony offers better reasons to vote than the ones I shared with my nonvoting friend -- who like me is a privileged white guy.
Responding to some thoughts posted by David Fitch, who in turn was responding to some statements by Stanley Hauerwas, Anthony said:
I live with a tragic history that remembers the failure of churches to be more determined by color than baptism. A reality we still wrestle with today. But a part of that tragic history is how fellow Christians, on this continent, refused to let people of color in on the conversation called America. What they didn't know was that we already had our own conversation, and we wanted them in on it. Even though we had our own conversation going since the beginning of sojourn, we still wanted to join in as fellow citizens and broaden the conversation. We wanted to bring our gifts to the table. We wanted equity along racial lines. A piece to the puzzle to achieving such equity was the practice of voting.
Voting, as it is oftentimes seen by historically marginalized groups, is a precious gift. It is not seen, within the language game of the prophetic black church, as a form of violence. That voting is seen as a means of violence can only come from Christians who don't know what it is like to be without the gift. This is why the loudest voices for political disengagement on Gospel grounds tend to be of lighter hue. It is another form of advantage to eschew voting. I profoundly agree with Christians engaging in anti-imperial practices or pro-kingdom activities that give sign to another world in our midst. But understand my suspicion. I am postmodern, after all.
Anthony makes an important point. Similarly, when I hear folks in the U.S. dissing voting as dirtying ourselves with the business of the empire, I keep wondering, "How would somebody in Zimbabwe respond to that kind of talk?" Or considering how few votes in Florida it would have taken for George Bush not to have been elected in 2000, I wonder how bereaved and maimed Iraqis -- and Americans -- would respond to Floridians who decided to make a religious statement by not voting? Anthony continues:
I have this habit of being suspicious whenever white Christians tell me what to do. I think it has something to do with history. Not sure. Pray for me. But the history doesn't look too good, for the most part. Yet I am a part of the emerging church postmodern conversation. Here I am, and I am hearing more and more voices say things that leave me in a state of tension. When I hear them say, "I am not voting because I am a Christian," I also hear the guttural cry of slaves in the cotton fields of Alabama praying for freedom from oppression. When I hear them say, "Voting is one more means to be about the business of Empire," I also hear the voice of an assassinated prophet say, "We must have our freedom now. We must have the right to vote. We must have equal protection of the law."
I hear something different than those who suggest voting is a mechanism of Empire. It may have something to do with the place from which I cast my ballot.
Voting isn't the only expression of our faith in public affairs, of course. But it's hard for me, even more so in light of Anthony's words, not to see it as an important first step, as an expression and solidarity with my neighbors in the U.S. and around the world, which is inherent to my faith in God and gospel.
Brian McLaren is an author and speaker and serves as Sojourners' board chair.
Labor Day weekend is often a slow time for congregations. Members are attending family gatherings. Parents are getting children ready for school. Neglected summer projects are undertaken or (like my garden) abandoned until next summer. Aside from the occasional Labor Day parade, few Labor Day activities seem to have anything to do with honoring labor. Labor Day weekend nonetheless offers congregations an opportunity to lift up the values of work and reflect on our religious teachings on labor.
Labor Day was first celebrated in 1882 in New York City. The idea of a labor day spread throughout the nation with 23 states passing laws honoring the occasion. In 1894, Congress made it a national holiday. American Federation of Labor records show a resolution in 1909 proclaiming the Sunday before Labor Day as Labor Sunday, "dedicated to the spiritual and educational aspects of the labor movement," though many congregations were holding Labor Sundays at least by 1905.
Work is central to each of our lives. Most of us spend more waking hours at work than we do with our families. We certainly spend more time at work than we do in religious services. Working people and how they fare are central to the development and prosperity of the nation. Tackling poverty requires us to figure out how all workers can earn wages and benefits that can support their families.
Despite the centrality of work to our lives, few of our congregations focus much on values related to work. We don't preach about work, offer classes on integrating religious values into work, train new workers about worker rights, or advocate justice in the workplace. Too many congregations have limited God's purview to the family and congregational life, when in fact fundamental values questions are played out in the workplace each and every day.
Labor in the Pulpits (Labor on the Bimah, Labor in the Minbar) is an organized program in dozens of cities that places labor speakers in congregations to talk about the shared values between the labor movement and the religious community. It is coordinated jointly by Interfaith Worker Justice (IWJ) and the AFL-CIO. Even congregations that don't officially have labor speakers can take advantage of the congregational resources prepared for Labor Day weekend.
Although Labor Day is right around the corner, it's not too late to put some labor back in Labor Day weekend services. Your congregation can:
Preach about the value of work. Review your tradition's teachings on labor and work through your faith body's Web site or IWJ's.
Invite a labor leader to talk about the shared values between the labor movement and the religious community.
Honor its own workers (such as the secretary, custodian) in public ways or through IWJ's Honor a Worker program.
Include inserts honoring work in the bulletin. IWJ offers free Labor Day-specific inserts as well as others that can be used throughout the year.
Labor issues may not be discussed much in our congregations, but they should be. Work is central to each of us, to our nation's prosperity, and to the possibility of ending poverty. Use this Labor Day as an opportunity to begin reinserting the core values of work and economic justice into the preaching, teaching, and living out of God's vision in our congregations.
Kim Bobo is the executive director of Interfaith Worker Justice, a national network that engages the religious community on issues affecting low-wage workers. A columnist for Religion Dispatches, she is the author of Lives Matter: A Handbook for Christian Organizing and a co-author of Organizing for Social Change, the most widely-used manual on progressive activism in the country.
The "cake" vs. "crumbs" power-sharing struggle continues in Zimbabwe. One of the reasons for the breakdown in the talks is that the government (ZANU-PF) wants the "whole power cake" and wants to give the opposition "crumbs." The intention of negotiations was to divide the "power cake" evenly so that a transitional government could be installed to stabilize the country and pave the way for fresh elections in two years. The memorandum of agreement signed by all parties agreed to this statement:
The parties shall not, during the subsistence of the dialogue, take any decisions or measures that have a bearing on the agenda of the dialogue, save by consensus. Such decisions or measures include, but are not limited to the convening of Parliament or the formation of a new government.
By unilaterally convening parliament, the government violated the agreement. Another intriguing development has been the defection by one wing of the opposition party to join the government. The opposition party Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) is comprised of two factions, one led by Mutambara (smaller faction) and the other by Tswangirai (larger faction). Mutambara defected to join ZANU-PF in an attempt to isolate Tswangirai.
So on Monday, August 25, Parliament was convened and one of the tasks was to vote for the speaker of Parliament. This is a powerful position. To everyone's surprise, the candidate who received the most votes was from MDC Tswangirai! There was spontaneous dancing and celebration in Parliament by the opposition, which was screened live on TV! There have been few occasions for rejoicing in the past few months. But the road ahead is still uncertain and foreboding. Please continue to journey with us through your support and prayers. This is greatly appreciated. Our prayers are with your nation as you prepare for elections.
Nontando Hadebe, a former Sojourners intern, is originally from Zimbabwe and is now pursuing graduate studies in theology in South Africa.
On Sept. 4, I'm going to Philadelphia to attend the premiere of The Ordinary Radicals, a documentary directed and produced by Jamie Moffett, co-founder of The Simple Way. The trailer gives a sense of this project.
While I can't speak for the others who were interviewed for this film, I felt my role was to serve as a cheerleader for the ordinary radicals profiled in this documentary. These spiritual souls don't issue manifestos and declarations about their goals to achieve radical shalom throughout the world. But you can find their work etched into the landscape of their communities. There Christ speaks loud and clear.
Check out their Web site for theatrical screening information, updates, and online DVD orders.
In her book, Rising from the Ashes: Rethinking Church, Becky Garrison profiles 33 church leaders who are seeking to reach those for whom church is not in their vocabulary.
I have been watching the Democratic National Convention this week, and I think when Barack Obama gives his acceptance speech tonight it is going to be an important historic moment. This is not to tell you who to vote for. That's up to you. But I can't help but anticipate watching a person of color stand in the place he will tonight. I don't advocate voting for him (or not) because he is a black man, but it sure is encouraging to see history unfold. The amount of anguish that comes with being a black leader is overwhelming sometimes, and this is life-giving. This could be a moment of real possibility for the healing of our nation and an opportunity for people to come together.
I recommend that you watch, and that you watch with a person of color. And if you are a person of color, I recommend that you watch with a white person. Let's live out what the world is looking for so deeply. Caution: If you watch it with me or any other black friends, there might be crying involved. I was near tears this morning just thinking about it.
Leroy Barber is president of Mission Year, a national urban initiative introducing 18 to 29-year-olds to missional and communal living in city centers for one year of their lives. He is also the pastor of Community Fellowships Church in Atlanta, Georgia.
Far from directing understanding inwards on themselves, the experience of the Spirit launches men and women out into the world as though imbued with superhuman energy.
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On Monday, I wrote that one of the things I would be looking for at the political conventions was "whether the people of faith who are here are able to offer that prophetic role that faithfulness requires, that would hold politics accountable to real moral values, and would offer the best hope of social change."
I'm happy to report that is indeed the case. The first indication of how prophetic faith might be at this convention came at the Sunday afternoon interfaith service that opened the Democratic National Convention -- another first. I attended, and I was eager to hear the tone that would be adopted by the speakers at the "Faith and Action" service. The theme was "Responsibility -- to our children, our neighbor, our nation, and our world." The speakers focused more on their own religious traditions than on politics, for which I was grateful, and then applied their faith to the moral issues of our time.
Yesterday, I moderated the first "Faith Forum." An AP story this morning caught the tone of the meeting just right. "People of faith challenge Democrats" began:
Religious leaders and people of faith who've been invited to the table at this week's Democratic National Convention are not sitting quietly with their hands in their laps.
The head of a large African-American denomination challenged the party on abortion. An Orthodox Jewish rabbi raised his voice about school choice. A thirty-something evangelical Christian author warned against Democrats who mock believers. ...
"Let's be honest: Religion has been used and abused by politics," said Jim Wallis, an evangelical and editor of Sojourners magazine. People of faith, he said, "should speak prophetically more than in a partisan way." Wallis is not endorsing a candidate and will also appear on a panel in St. Paul, Minn., next week during the Republican convention.
The story notes that one speaker "credited Democratic officials for putting no restrictions on what speakers could say," and then went on:
That freedom also was evident when Bishop Charles Blake, head of the 6 million-member Church of God in Christ, spoke of "disregard for the lives of the unborn." Blake, who called himself a pro-life Democrat, challenged Obama to adopt policies to reduce abortions and chided Republicans for not caring about "those who have been born."
Bishop Blake said the same thing at Sunday's interfaith service, where I spoke to him afterward and thanked him for his courage to speak prophetically. He told me, "I could do nothing else but be faithful to my religious convictions and my constituency of faith."
It was a good first sign of prophetic religion at the Democratic Convention.
Excerpt from Bishop Charles Blake’s remarks at the Interfaith Forum, Sunday, August 24, 2008, Denver, Colorado:
“Our children have sacred value, and every child is equally valuable.
May I observe, as a Pro-Life Democrat, that some of us have philosophic, humanitarian and theological differences with those who put forth abortion as an appropriate, routine and acceptable birth control procedure. There are millions of us who would hold that such a position conflicts with our conviction regarding our sacred responsibility to our youth and to human life itself.
Surely we cannot be pleased with the routine administration of millions of surgically terminated pregnancies. Something within all of us must be calling for a better way. If we do not resist at this point, at what point will we resist?
We know that our party will understand and acknowledge the moral and spiritual pain that so many feel because of this disregard for the lives of the unborn.
Those of us who support the Democratic Party, despite our disagreement on this issue, do so because the Democratic Party articulate and pursues more of the positions that are relevant to the lives and circumstances of our people, the people of America in general, and the people of the world.
Others loudly proclaim their advocacy for the unborn, but refuse to recognize their responsibility, and that of our nation, to the living. They are presently and historically silent, if not indifferent, to the suffering of our inner cities, the extreme levels of economic and social inequality that exist in this country and around the world, and to the ethically indefensible restrictions blocking the access of some to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all.
Senator Obama, and all of us, should follow up and elaborate on his stated intention to reduce the number of abortions, by providing alternative programs which will by various approaches result in the prevention of unwanted pregnancies; and to provide viable alternatives in the event of an unwanted pregnancy. ...
The Ladies Professional Golf Association (LPGA) confirmed that players' memberships would be suspended if they don't learn to speak English and pass an oral evaluation.
Yuck.
In reality, many believed it was inevitable because there are so many South Korean women (45) now on the LPGA tour, and truth be told, they're simply kicking some serious butt. On any given tournament, it's not surprising to see half of the leader board peppered with the names of Korean golfers. And while I know that there are 121 foreign players on the LPGA, this was indirectly aimed at the Korean golfers -- as evidenced by the "mandatory" meeting South Korean golfers had to attend recently.
The LPGA is a private association so they have the right to make certain policies, but suspending memberships isn't the answer. It's a double bogey.
The LPGA is an association that prides itself as being the premier women's golf tour in the world -- and rightfully so. This is why it attracts the greatest female golf players in the world. And as long as these international players meet the high LPGA "golfing standards," it doesn't seem right that they also have to pass a language exam.
But, wait -- according to LPGA officials, the international players were hurting the marketability, and thus the bottom-line Benjamins, of the LPGA.
Now, I'm not naïve. I understand this thing called the Benjamins, the mighty dollar, the bottom line, and the economics. So having said that, I fully agree and understand that players ought to learn and attempt to speak a certain level of English and assist in helping "market" the LPGA. But making it mandatory? Suspending their memberships, and thus their livelihoods?
When you make it mandatory, it stinks of the whole "colonialism" junk so many have complained about from Western powers: "Fit in or else."
Let me put it another way. What if the LPGA started a new policy where a weight limit was imposed on female golfers because LPGA officials complained that heavier golfers can't be marketed -- thus hurting the economics of the LPGA. Wouldn't we all raise a stink?
This reminds me of when the National Basketball Association (NBA) came down on some of its players several years ago because they didn't dress a certain way. It was a general policy, but it also seemed to be indirectly aimed at the younger black players.
So, we want you to be a part of the NBA -- we'll use you to market the NBA, we'll use you to elevate the game and competition, we'll use you to sell tickets, but we don't want you to look too black. Wear a suit. Take off the chains. Loosen the cornrows. Easy on the tattoos. Blah blah blah.
The LPGA will require its member golfers to learn and speak English and will suspend their membership if they don't comply.
The new requirement, first reported by Golfweek on its Web site, was communicated to the tour's growing South Korean membership in a mandatory meeting at the Safeway Classic in Portland, Ore., on Aug. 20. Connie Wilson, the LPGA's vice president of communications, confirmed the new policy to ESPN.com.
Players were told by LPGA commissioner Carolyn Bivens that by the end of 2009, all players who have been on the tour for two years must pass an oral evaluation of their English skills or face a membership suspension. A written explanation of the policy was not given to players, according to the report.
Eugene Cho, a second-generation Korean-American, is the founder and lead pastor of Quest Church in Seattle, and the executive director of Q Cafe, an innovative nonprofit neighborhood café and music venue. He and his wife are also launching a grassroots humanitarian organization to fight global poverty. You can stalk him at his blog eugenecho.wordpress.com.
Evangelical women and minorities, it seems, exist on the muted margins of political discourse in America. If a justice revival is to sweep over America once more, from the suburban megachurch to the urban storefront church, then Christians must pursue a vision of the common good for all -- and not the common good of a few.
The public narratives of the media often chronicle the broadening social concerns of white evangelical males such as Rick Warren and Richard Cizik -- and rightfully so. Their story deserves to be told. But their story is not the only one.
As an African-American summer intern at Sojourners, I labored alongside two African-American women, two Asian women, and four white men and women -- all of whom persistently link spiritual renewal and social justice. To borrow an image from Gabriel Salguero, this technicolor portrait of evangelicals critiques the Alpine storyline, which is the subtle suggestion that only the broadening social concerns of progressive evangelical white males is newsworthy. Meanwhile, the stories of progressive evangelical minorities and women, the stories I heard at Sojourners, remain as invisible as the protagonist of Ralph Ellison's famous novel.
We stand at a critical moment in the socio-religious history of America. And before us lie two roads. One path pursues the common good of white evangelical men, while relying on the common labor of evangelical women and minorities. This path is marked by denominational positions that define minstry by gender and not gifting (shout-out to Dr. Mimi Haddad of Christians for Biblical Equality), theology that clarifies doctrine while obscuring the correlations of race and poverty, and well-intentioned civic disengagement that nevertheless stacks an already tilted deck of cards against the marginalized.
The other road, a glimpse of which I saw at Sojourners, relies upon the common labor of all evangelicals to pursue the common good of all. This pathway also has signposts: more women serving as bishops and pastors; theology that rhythmically alternates between digesting scripture and dismantling the poverty-race correlation; and wise engagement that represents the broad concerns of the evangelical constituency to the public and private sector. If we take creation care as a representative example, following this path would mean, amongst other things, advocating for green jobs as a response to structural inner-city unemployment.
For understandable and yet lamentable reasons, some evangelicals head down the first pathway; precious few are moving down the second. Of course this ''two roads'' dichotomy simplifies the complex phenomenon of American evangelicalism. Hopefully, however, it also underscores the urgency of now. Christians must toil for, and not just wish for, a technicolor justice revival that pursues the common good of all.
Andrew Wilkes is a policy and organizing intern at Sojourners. He is currently pursuing a Masters of Divinity degree at Princeton Theological Seminary. He offers reflections at Foursquare, a blog that encourages abstinence as a spiritual discipline with social consequences.
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What have you heard about the paramilitary leaders extradited to the U.S. on drug trafficking charges? As formally demobilized paramilitary, they were being processed under what is known as the "justice and peace law" and were in the midst of hearings. Their confessions of macabre acts, partial at best, evolved to include naming ties with the Colombian government and international corporations. Testimonies revealed strategies, intellectual authors of crimes, and kingpins of paramilitary structures. These truths fed the "para-politics" scandal, and, at that moment, the Uribe administration effectively cut off the hearings by allowing the U.S. to whisk them off to be processed for drug trafficking. It left me sputtering, "What!?" As the paramilitary leaders are now under U.S. jurisdiction, they are only being tried for drug charges and not for the countless instances of torture, homicides, and other war crimes committed.
But they may not even be the big "winners." As the notorious paramilitary leader from northwestern Colombia, Ever Veloza Garcia -- alias "HH" -- said in a radio interview last week,
the only ones that won are the rich of this country. The ones who invested in the war, who paid money for us to kill. ... The majority of the people who died in this war are innocent.
In another radio interview, he shared "how the security forces coordinated the movement of troops and helped us move weapons. We paid them to give information and cooperate."
One victim of the paramilitary exclaimed at church recently, "I feel like I'm being whitewashed from history. But look, touch me, I do exist!"
Janna Hunter-Bowman works for Mennonite Central Committee in Bogotá, Colombia, as the coordinator of the Documentation and Advocacy Program for Justapaz.
I am now in Denver for the Democratic National Convention, and I will be in the Twin Cities next week for the Republican National Convention. I am speaking at both about the moral issues the faith community believes are important -- among them poverty, the environment and climate change, a consistent ethic of life, strong families, pandemic diseases, human trafficking, war, and peace. The Democrats are, for the first time, having "faith forums" to discuss those issues, and I will be moderating two of those forums -- one on the meaning of "the common good," a central religious concept. There will also be issues forums at the Republican Convention on the connections between faith and politics, which I am looking forward to participating in next week. At both conventions, the media is showing great interest in the connection between religion and the election, and that's the other reason I will be at both places.
The proper relationship between faith and politics is a critical issue. In recent decades, religion has often been used, and even abused, by politics and politicians. There is now a legitimate backlash to the exploitation and "politicizing" of religion among many in the churches -- especially a new generation. But the backlash could also lead to a new form of the old private piety or a new communal piety -- that the only important relationship is the one between "me and God" or in the churches' "service" to their own communities (an improvement over mere personal piety, but far short of the biblical call to justice). See Brian McLaren's post yesterday on the dangers of the new piety.
Politics is important. Wilberforce could not have ended the slave trade in England without politics. And it would not have been enough for Christians to just not have slaves. Martin Luther King could not have achieved the victories of civil rights without politics. It would not have been enough for the churches to just disavow segregation. (In fact, as King reminded us, the most segregated hour in America was and still is 11 a.m. on Sunday mornings). Gandhi could not have freed India from colonialism, nor could Nelson Mandela have ended apartheid in South Africa without politics. Politics is supposed to be about the common good, about the moral values we want to guide our civic life, even though the practice of politics often makes many people cynical.
But politics is broken in America, as I have often said. And it will take social movements, with clear spiritual values, to change politics in America. That is what genuine revivals have always done -- changed hearts and changed society. And that is still my best hope.
There are many people of faith here at this convention in Denver, as there will also be in the Twin Cities. The important thing for us as people of faith at both conventions is to make sure that our "politics" are more "prophetic" than "partisan." As I have continually repeated, God is not a Republican or a Democrat, and people of faith belong in no party's political pocket. The danger at both conventions is that religion will be exploited -- again -- this time by both sides. So I will be reporting to you on how that goes, whether the people of faith who are here are able to offer that prophetic role that faithfulness requires, that would hold politics accountable to real moral values, and would offer the best hope of social change. Stay tuned.
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Depart from me, all you workers of evil,
for the Lord has heard the sound of my weeping.
The Lord has heard my supplication;
the Lord accepts my prayer.
There is an amazing moment on the latest Hillsong DVD, This Is Our God, when Michael Guglielmucci, stricken with cancer, walks on stage with an oxygen tent to boldly sing his song "Healer." He doesn't know how long he has to live, but still proclaims the goodness of his God.
Earlier in the year, Mike's overtly Christian worship song "Healer," which he said was inspired by his struggle with a deadly form of cancer, debuted at number two on Australia's official music charts.
I feel a deep sadness for Mike and all affected. I continue to pray for him and those who are hurting in the wake of his pain. Mike was not just some fringe player on the Australian Christian scene. In Australia's prominent churches (including world-famous Hillsong), this passionate, talented, and broken 28-year-old was not just a hero but a superstar. Until he confessed to the lies about his terminal cancer and his addiction to pornography, all of which have come as a painful shock to those closest to him. ...
Social conservatives are growing more wary of church involvement in politics, joining moderates and liberals in their unease about blurring the lines between pulpit and ballot box, a new study found.
Churchgoers across the country are looking at the ways in which religious leaders and communities have been used by political parties – and have used them as well -- and they think, “Let’s just pull back and not talk about faith and politics in the same breath any more.” As the survey's overview states:
Some Americans are having a change of heart about mixing religion and politics. A new survey finds a narrow majority of the public saying that churches and other houses of worship should keep out of political matters and not express their views on day-to-day social and political matters.
One key term in both of these statements is “church,” along with the related terms “pulpit” and “houses of worship.” The other key term is “politics," with related terms “ballot box” and “social and political matters.”
If people are saying they’re tired of pulpits and churches becoming the field for proxy battles between Republicans and Democrats, conservatives and liberals, I couldn’t agree more. And if they’re saying that pastors and other religious leaders should try to throw their weight around in the political arena, bypassing normal debate and discourse by making theological pronouncements, again, I couldn’t agree more.
But if they’re saying, “Let’s go back to the good old days where in church we talked about ‘us and Jesus’ and nothing more,” I couldn’t disagree more. To talk about “us and Jesus” alone is unfaithful to Jesus, who linked love for God with love for neighbor. To exclude from our circle of concern the well-being of neighbor and enemy means that we aren’t following Jesus’ way, but some other way under “Christian camouflage.”
I grew up in those “good old days,” and I can tell you they weren’t so good. It wasn’t good when racism and concern for the planet were excluded from consideration because they were “social and political matters.” It wasn’t good when poverty couldn’t be addressed directly or in a sustained way – in spite of the fact that the Bible says so much about it – because it was “political” and “social.” It wasn’t good when we couldn’t talk about peacemaking in a violent world because to do so was “too political.”
It’s true: when you let your faith be trimmed, stretched, and shrunk to fit as a nice rug on a party platform, you’re being a faithful partisan but not a faithful Christian (or Jew, Muslim, or whatever). And it’s also true: when you limit “church” and “pulpit” and “house of worship” to private personal piety, to “us and Jesus,” you have a safe, domesticated, irrelevant, and unfaithful religion -- not the way of life Jesus launched.
The misadventures of the Religious Right are many, and their consequences are far-reaching. It would be doubly sad if in the aftermath of the Religious Right, we add another negative consequence: to react to an unwise mal-engagement of faith with social and public life by choosing unfaithful disengagement, instead of wise and proper engagement.
Brian McLaren is an author and speaker and serves as Sojourners' board chair.
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I'm not much for talismans or religious tokens in the usual sense of those things. I wear around my neck every day of my life a chain with four emblems or medals on it. One is a Celtic cross given me on my 65th birthday by my favorite college chum from more than a half-century ago. One is the shield of the Episcopal Church, whose way of being Christian stole my heart away when I was 17 and has never let go of it or me in all the years since. One is a Jerusalem cross that Sam bought for me in the Old City in 2000 when we were there in conjunction with John Paul II's papal visit. And the fourth is one my number three daughter, Laura, bought for me in a little shop near the Cathedral in Canterbury when we were there for a meeting of The Canterbury Roundtable. She snuck away to buy what she had earlier seen me fingering with no small amount of desire.
All in all, however, and despite their overtly Christian character, those beloved pieces of silver that hang daily around my neck are not religious items or even talismans. They are a remembrance from, and of, those whom I have deeply loved in this life. Admittedly, they find their shapes in the iconographic forms of that which I have most completely sworn my life to, but they are not themselves truly icons. No, the only talisman or icon -- if indeed it be one -- that I carry, I carry in my wallet. It is a piece of paper, and it is there for two reasons.
First, it defines better than anything else I own how completely short of the mark I and most of my co-religionists are. Second, it demands that I never forget and never give quarter to those of whatever time, country, or persuasion who would forget, not the events it stems from, but the purity of soul generated by them.
The words in my wallet were found scratched on a wad of old wrapping paper in a bunkhouse at Ravensbruck Concentration Camp when it was liberated in 1945:
Lord, remember not only the men of good will, but also those of ill will. But do not remember all the suffering they have inflicted upon us. Remember rather the fruits we brought, thanks to this suffering: our comradeship, our loyalty, our humility, the courage, the generosity, the greatness of heart that has grown out of this. And when we come to judgment, let all the fruits that we have bourne be their forgiveness.
May such grace attend us all now and in the hour of our deaths.
The meaning of evangelism is the proclamation of good news to the world. How can we continue to exclude and avoid those with whom we are not comfortable and live into our evangelical calling at the same time? If we do not shed this primitive tendency, and yet heed the call to be evangelical, do we not risk exporting our ecclesial tribalism far and wide? How can we say we are evangelical if the good news is not good for the whole world? If the gospel is proclaimed under the rubric of the homogeneous unit principle, I would argue that this is distorted news, even false news. The acid test of evangelism must be: Is this good news for the poor?
But the church has largely forgotten the poor, instead focusing on the perceived poverty of individual rights driven by debates over human sexuality and ordination. What about plain old poverty driven by the historic legacy of racism, a politics seemingly motivated by a preferential option for the rich, and the exploitation of the newly arrived on American shores?
I don’t believe that the church’s mission is to broker the competing claims of “rights” among various factions. In our local church context, the power-brokers are the Korean-Americans since the Church of All Nations emerged from the Korean immigrant context. As we moved at increasing speed toward embodying the multicultural vision, the collective response I seemed to get from that group was: “We work for Dow Chemical, 3M, General Mills, and the University of Minnesota. Although we have well-paying jobs we are not really leaders in these places. We still have to live and work under the overarching white power structure. Now we come to a Korean-American church, the one place where we have power, where we have leadership, where our culture is affirmed, and you want to take that cultural hegemony away from us? You want to take away the one last refuge where we can be ourselves?”
My answer is “yes.” Yes, we lay down our lives for our friends. Yes, we love our neighbors as ourselves. Yes, we care for the widows, orphans, aliens, and strangers in our midst. Although we have painstakingly constructed foxholes and bird nests for our security, we choose with our Lord Jesus to be homeless wanderers on this earth, to have nowhere to lay our heads (Luke 9:57). I have compassion for my fellow 1.5- and second-generation English-speaking Korean-Americans who must choose between comfortable and affirming spiritual fellowship and the daring work of the ministry of reconciliation. I myself have worshiped and worked in the Korean church context all my life. I understand the need for the church to be a place of comfort; surely that is one of the roles of the church. But is God calling us to something higher than religion for our particular group? Can the Korean-Americans be evangels who, having achieved majority status and cultural dominance in the local congregation, willingly lay that down so that other cultures may be lifted up and affirmed? Can we be a mosaic of believers who witness to the God who reconciles all things to himself?
On Aug. 19, 2008, Zambia President Levy Patrick Mwanawasa died. His death was a loss not only to his nation but to the region. He was outspoken about the situation in Zimbabwe. It is ironic that his death was followed in a few days by the "death" of negotiations in Zimbabwe. The government has refused to concede power and will be opening parliament next week --"back to business." It is not clear at the moment what options the opposition party has and what the best way forward will be. Giving up is not an option, but the way ahead requires renewed vision and courage. Thank you for your prayers. Please continue to pray.
Nontando Hadebe, a former Sojourners intern, is originally from Zimbabwe and is now pursuing graduate studies in theology in South Africa.
In a few weeks, I will make a life-changing journey. After 33 years of living in Northern Ireland, and for very good reasons, I am about to become an immigrant. I'm excited about this move, not least because I believe that doing something new is one of the best ways to grow as a human being.
But two questions come to mind as I prepare myself for leaving home.
The first is, "What will it feel like to be an immigrant?" Will I be welcomed by the people in my adopted country? Will I stand out? Will I have to sell newspapers at traffic lights or wait tables in restaurants where the indigenous population refuses to work? Will I have slogans painted on the wall of my house telling me to leave? Will I have to rely on churches and charities to defend my human rights? If there is something wrong with my visa, will I be handcuffed and detained indefinitely?
In considering my own imminent immigrant status, I am very aware of how often I have failed to welcome the people who have migrated to Northern Ireland in significant numbers recently -- especially from African countries and Eastern Europe. I have not always sought to see the good in the faces of people who have arrived here, often coming from difficult circumstances. I hope people will respond differently to me as I move overseas, and help me find a sense of home when I get there -- that along with my own hopes of being treated with respect, I will learn to offer more sanctuary to people I meet.
The second question is, "What I will miss when I leave?"
Along with thoughts of my friends and loved ones, in my mind's eye I'll visualise the natural landscape -- from the reward of the view after the walk up the Silent Valley, to the way evening light hits the lough shore in Randalstown Forest. (To readers who have not yet been able to make a pilgrimage to my home country, check out this image of the Silent Valley reservoir, nestled in the Mourne Mountains of South Down. Not exactly a Himalayan range, but it's home.)
And, of course, there is our extraordinary political experiment -- the attempt to resolve a violent conflict, which at the risk of oversimplification could be described as being between Protestants who feel their identity to be British, and Catholics who consider themselves Irish, without victory or defeat, but through agreeing to disagree, to put the past behind us, and to share power for the sake of all the people.
It's got its teething problems, of course, but we are also often very hard on our politicians. This culture of "criticise first, ask questions later" is not only relevant to Northern Ireland, for we live in an age where cynicism so often trumps hope that it seems any talk about the humanity of our "enemies" is the interest only of a very small, very strange minority. But those of us who believe in the possibility of resurrection must resist the relentless undermining of kindness, hope, and the common good that appears to drive so much of our culture. And so I dare to risk the sin of overstated arrogance -- and to suggest that the land I am leaving may well have a useful story to share with the people in the land I am going to. So I want to end this post, in the midst of the busyness of putting books in boxes and finding people to whom I can donate my furniture, with the hope that we in Northern Ireland might, after decades of complicated and painful relationships, be able to commit ourselves to something simple: To decide always, before we start complaining, to try to see the good in each other.
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God" (Matthew 5:9).
Peacemaking is an important responsibility of people who follow Jesus, the Prince of Peace. Christianity requires that we, ourselves, become the living, breathing, flesh-and-blood manifestation of the teachings of Jesus. Our calling is to a radical obedience to Jesus' call to follow him (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship). The teachings of Jesus are extreme and difficult: "Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you" (Matthew 5:44). This teaching is the pathway to peace.
Sept. 21 is the International Day of Peace. It is a day set aside to focus our attention on a global ceasefire, peacemaking, nonviolence, and the goal of creating a culture of peace. We hope and pray that it will be a day when bombs and guns are silent, where knives and machetes draw no blood, where we cease our verbal violence, where we each hold our peace in the name of peace. Most of us cannot through the power of our own decisions stop the violence in faraway places, but we can stop the violence of our own speech. We can dedicate Sept. 21 to the peace we can make on the earth beneath our feet, in the world within our reach.
Religion has often been blamed for violence and war. In my opinion, this is a mistake. Religion intends unity. It at once provides a means whereby humanity can experience the ties that bind us and a means to know transcendence. Religion takes us to love through faith (Ludwig Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity). However, when religion stops at faith, when it stops at a particular tradition, doctrine, tribe, nation, or historical moment, it becomes a way to define our identity, to set us apart, to separate us from humanity, creation, and God. It is at this point when religion becomes dangerous and violent.
The radical love of Jesus requires us to not only love the people who are like us, those who love us, but to love the Other, even the enemy Other that hates us. Our command to do good is without exception. Thus, the way we ought to respond to our enemy is with love, blessing, good deeds, and prayer. This is our imperative for both personal and national enemies.
So let us remember Sept. 21, the United Nations International Day of Peace. Let us remember it in our homes and churches, but most especially in our secret prayer closets, looking forward to the day when God's kingdom of peace will come on earth as it is in heaven.
Dr. Valerie Elverton Dixon is an independent scholar who publishes lectures and essays at JustPeaceTheory.com. She received her Ph.D. in Religion and Society from Temple University and taught Christian Ethics at United Theological Seminary and Andover Newton Theological School.
I am grateful for CNN's special report, "Black in America," as well as the subsequent article on church segregation on this 40th year after Dr. King's assassination. The article describes the "racial fatigue" that Christians of all colors seem to experience in these days of ever-increasing diversity. It sounds to me like the dynamics of a dysfunctional marriage. If there is not real confession, repentance, healing, and reconciliation, the only options are divorce or despair.
As "ambassadors" of God's kingdom, we Christians ought to be the leaders in racial reconciliation, for "they will know we are Christians by our love." Instead, we lag behind a secular society in getting along, even among so-called Christians! That the segregated church in America is patterned after a racist society, and not the other way around, is an indictment of our life together and cause for national repentance and revival. How did we get here, and how do we move forward?
I think most of us know that a large membership does not necessarily make a church successful, but there is a part of us that envies the big churches and wonders why our congregations are not successful in that way. The church moves toward reconciliation not because it will lead to numerical success but because the church has been called to faithfulness. As part of this faithfulness, the legitimacy of the "homogenous unit principle" needs to be questioned. I believe this "principle" has given theological justification to ancient tribalism and the idolatry of division. It does not call us to be a new creation but entrenches the old.
Two thousand years ago the church was small, renegade, and countercultural. Local congregations were radical communities of love and compassion. Their very existence as a community defied the claim of imperial sovereignty. These congregations overcame the prevailing social barriers of race, class, and gender and showed compassion to the rejects of society. The early church posed a serious threat to Roman hegemony and social order. It was its witness as a kingdom-oriented community that had a powerful effect on the empire, not the size or political connections of the church. The early church was not so much about church growth as about parabolic witness. How does a band of 10, 20, 50 people demonstrate the power of God's redemptive love by example? How do these individuals live the Christian life together as a living parable? How do they serve as a parabolic witness to the world? That was the fundamental evangelical question.
The eventual conversion of the Roman Empire has been a mixed legacy. The new status of Christianity as the state religion gave it legitimacy and power but also forced compromise as it had to serve God and empire, church and state. As time went on, the church moved away from its Pentecost roots of unity in radical diversity and toward an increasingly homogeneous power structure.
It's time to ask ourselves what kind of impact the church in America could make today if we actually took advantage of the diversity in our midst. In our local congregation, the Church of All Nations, we use the term multicultural as opposed to multiethnic or multiracial. Not all churches can be multiethnic if the geographic context does not allow for it, but every church can be multicultural if we understand the term culture to encompass different generations, socio-economic backgrounds, education levels, etc. A local congregation ought to reflect the full diversity of its particular geographic community. I would go further and say that, in accordance with our call to discipleship, every local church in the world has a mandate to be as multicultural as possible.
We must contend with the unsettling fact that the most ethnically and culturally diverse country in the world with a strong Christian heritage seems incapable of producing ethnically and culturally diverse churches. Researchers estimate that only 6 percent of churches are multiracial, and only 2 percent are intentionally multiracial (as opposed to the cause being neighborhood demographic shifts). Instead of seeing this as a golden opportunity, we see it as a threat to our safe and secure homogeneity. We succumb to our primitive need to be surrounded by members of our "group." Is this not a form of ecclesial tribalism?
My two boys have an alley for a backyard. Luke (9) and Jack (5) are thoroughly urban kids, but I watched them, these past two weeks, fall in love with a natural world far different from their own in a magical place called Block Island, off the coast of Rhode Island.
I came here a lot as a younger man. It was the home of lawyer-theologian William Stringfellow, one of my theological and political mentors, and it still has a little cottage on the back of the property that is used by Jesuit priest Daniel Berrigan as a special place for writing and retreat. I hadn’t been here for 10 years, and I thought it was time to go back with my two boys. After all, it was the place I proposed to their mother, Joy Carroll, 11 years ago during a dramatic sunset at the lighthouse on the island’s most northern point.
During the hour-long ferry ride from Point Judith, Rhode Island, I felt so many old feelings and memories returning, as the sun was setting over the ocean. The hour-long boat ride was always a decompresser for me, helping me prepare for the much slower pace of island life. I remember the Stringfellow residence as an almost monastic environment, in lovely harmony with Block Island’s stunning natural beauty and small-town rural lifestyle. After arriving, Joy was surprised to see how easily I found the small back roads and turn-offs, even after dark, which lead to the Berrigan cottage. Some places you never forget. The first thing my boys noticed was the extraordinary view from the deck of this spartan writer's cottage “at land's end,” as Berrigan always said, looking out over the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean. Coming from an urban environment where you never think to look up, all of a sudden there was the light show from a million stars. And it was so quiet.
On the ferry I had picked up a copy of the Block Island Times and had seen the weekly Nature Walk Schedule put out by the island’s Nature Conservancy. It seemed especially focused on things children would love, so we decided to try it out our first Monday morning. Those morning sessions became a daily discipline and delight for Luke, Jack, and me, and seemed to set the tone and pace for every day. From nature hikes through flora and fauna, to marsh-mucking, to scavenger hunts, to bird-watching, to a final 5-mile fitness walk through four preserves, we urban boys were introduced to a whole new and wonderful world. My boys insisted on getting up early each day to go.
I watched my youngest, Jack, discover little hermit crabs and gently hold them in his hand. One of our young nature guides told him that soft humming or singing often got the hermits to come out of their shells, and Jack found that "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" worked very well. Luke and I followed a 100-year-old, 2-foot-long horseshoe crab around the marsh. Each shell, piece of seaweed, or interesting rock seemed to have its own story.
On the morning bird-watching expedition at the end of the week, Luke had a question for the director of the Nature Conservancy. "Are there any shad bushes here? You know, the ones that the yellow-bellied sapsuckers peck to get their sap to run, which attracts the insects that become the bird’s lunch when they come back a couple hours later?" Surprised by the 9-year-old question, our guide said, “Yes, there are, and you’re right about the yellow-bellied sapsuckers, but how did you know that?” Luke said, “Oh I learned that on the Monday nature walk.” The other adults on the bird walk were quite impressed and told me how “environmentally sensitive” my children were. I tried hard to contain my chuckles and decided not to tell them about the inner-city war zone where my boys have grown up.
Of course we played baseball most days, as we do wherever we are. But practicing pitching, catching, and hitting, playing “pickle,” and running the bases next to the Mohican Bluffs with the roar of the Atlantic over the cliff is a lot different from the ballfields of Washington, D.C. And one of the best things we did was to rent bikes for all four of us. Biking to town, to the beach, or to dinner was a new experience for this urban family, and Luke kept remarking about all the energy we were saving. The sunsets were again breathtaking at the North Light, and one night I comically re-enacted my original marriage proposal, dropping on my knees to ask Joy if she would marry me and have two boys named Luke and Jack. “Oh, all right then,” she replied romantically, for which we were all grateful. And later at night, we would sit in the dark of our deck and watch the moon rise above the ocean and then the stars light up the sky. Sleeping was easy.
Perhaps the natural highlight came at the end of our time, when the boys and I went to a “nature and arts” session at an outdoor pavilion. A very knowledgeable nature guide (who I later discovered is also the town mayor!) displayed colorful caterpillars feeding on milkweeds and passed out drawing pads to all the kids. She then showed us two different chrysalises and explained how there were caterpillars inside turning into beautiful butterflies. One was a brand-new chrysalis and one, she excitedly told us, was about to burst open any day. Nobody expected that to be about 15 minutes later, when a dozen wide-eyed children and their astonished parents watched in utter amazement as a new-born and brilliant monarch butterfly broke out into the world. None of us, except the mayor, had ever seen that before.
Childlike wonder is what happens to all of us in the face of such natural beauty and wonder. Time for long conversations, good sleep, great meals, swims and walks each day, lots of laughing, space for reading and knitting, and at every turn in the road, biking around a bend, or rising over a hill, somebody would say, "That's so beautiful."
Here, the ocean, not an alley, was our backyard. In every direction, there it was, at high and low tides, in shimmering blues or crashing white waves, setting the rhythm for an island and, for almost two weeks, for a family of city kids who found a way to fit right in.
I am black and beautiful,
O daughters of Jerusalem,
like the tents of Kedar,
like the curtains of Solomon.
Do not gaze at me because I am dark,
because the sun has gazed on me.
I can't go anywhere these days without hearing about the Olympics ("Michael Phelps this, Michael Phelps that." Thank God my friend finally told me who Michael Phelps is). But it wasn't until I was over on Eugene Cho's blog the other day that my interest was thoroughly piqued. Cho posted a photo of the Spanish men's basketball team "making their eyes Chinese," along with his response. (I encourage you to check out Cho's honest and articulate posts -- he has since written a second one -- and the open conversation they have sparked.)
The New York Times has thoroughly covered the incident. The photo was an ad in a Spanish newspaper that also included an identical photo of the women's basketball team. In order to assuage some of the reactionary discomfort surrounding the ad, the Spanish teams have alluded that it was an "affectionate gesture" between the teams and their Chinese sponsor, Li-Ning footwear company. And as a response to critical accusations from those offended by the ad, we are reminded that the Chinese embassy in Spain does not find it to be racist or offensive.
This seems to imply that everyone else is overreacting: "Look! Even China doesn't care!" However, I see China's willingness to overlook the incident as a diplomatic consequence rather than an admission that the act is not a racially loaded and dangerous one. Don't get me wrong -- I'm glad we don't feel the need to start official conflicts over such things. Being able to recognize intention, distinguish between actions and actors, and, above all, gracefully forgive are hallmarks of mature relationships. But this does not equal rendering the act as "okay" and inoffensive. How do we keep from sacrificing loving accountability for diplomatic tolerance? Or more bluntly, how do we say a racist act is wrong but forgiven, rather than ignore the offended and excuse racism for the sake of appearances?
Let's bring this down a level: Suppose an acquaintance of mine says to me, with a wink, "Katie, thanks for helping with cleanup. You're such a good, subservient Asian girl." Now, I will not punch her in the face and declare her my enemy. However, I most certainly will put an affectionate arm around her shoulders and have a word. It might sound like this ("what I'd say" = "what I'd mean"):
"Ha, ha" = "I can see how you might think that's funny and clever because I'm Asian and it's an Asian stereotype."
"I'm glad we're friends" = "I believe relationships should be dealt with lovingly. So, I'm not going to punch you in the face."
"But let me tell you why you're wrong" = "But it's not okay. And I am going to use this opportunity to help you understand how and why this hurts people, especially those who are not your friends, because they probably won't do that. But, they might punch you in your possibly well-intentioned but ignorant face."
Or something like that. My point is, whether or not the Spanish teams meant nothing bad by the gesture and whether or not the Chinese embassy accepts this, it is still wrong. It offends someone. It misleads someone into thinking it's okay. It reinforces stereotypes. And it reduces all of someone's pain that was borne out of the history of such a gesture, such a stereotype, down to a couple of very public photos and a shrugged-off worldwide response. This is what matters.
I am a former student who studied cultural identity and stereotyping and am a Christian who seeks opportunities for reconciliation. Thus my initial reaction upon reading Cho's blog post was to displace blame (we are all at fault for racism), rigorously find and attack the root problem (Institutions! Apathy! Ignorance!), and mend relationships (let this bring us together rather than divide us further). But I am also an adopted Korean woman living in the United States. I have endured demeaning comments from men ("speak Japanese to me and giggle!"); I have struggled at childhood "beauty parlor" parties because my face didn't follow the Caucasian fashion magazine rules; I have had good grades discounted because studying and science are "in my racial DNA;" and I have, of course, been subject to people slanting their eyes at me. So when I read Cho's most recent post about the topic, I took the time to stop thinking and theorizing and problem-solving. Instead I simply looked at the picture of (this time) the Spanish women's tennis team slanting their eyes at the camera. And I have to be honest, it hurt.
Katie Van Loo, a former Sojourners intern, lives in Washington, D.C.
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Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it. - Matthew 13:45-45
We can move in the direction of justice, but if our personal relationships don't become more human, we haven't moved in the direction of the reign of God and, in the long run, we will discover that our point of arrival is just another form of tyranny. - Arturo Paoli
Agriprocessors, the largest kosher slaughterhouse in the U.S., has developed a longstanding reputation for abusing animals, workers, and laws. The abuses have been documented and decried by labor unions, religious leaders, animal rights groups, etc. Children as young as 13 work in dangerous conditions. Cows have their windpipes ripped out while they are still conscious and alive. Central Americans were hired illegally to work long hours with little pay. Untreated sewage has been dumped into the Postville, Iowa, water system. The list goes on and on.
In a bizarre twist of perverted justice, the Bush administration had the workers arrested while ignoring the egregious practices of the owners and operators. On May 20, 2008, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents arrested 300 Guatemalan workers at the plant and charged them with a serious crime: "aggravated identity theft." Torn from their families, these Guatemalans are forced to choose between a two-year prison sentence or immediate deportation. The immediate deportation is considered "the deal."
So, while the Bush administration prosecutes people who are weak and poor to the fullest extent of the law, the wealthy owners and administrators continue business as usual. The CEO, Sholom Rubashkin, and the rest of the people who run the slaughterhouse bear the most responsibility for the abuses to people, animals, and laws, yet they remain in power and are not prosecuted. That is not the American way. These are not the values of our nation.
The plaque on the Statue of Liberty says, "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" This is a quote worth re-reading these days. As this statement makes clear, our nation is founded on principles of justice, equality, and helping the downtrodden.
Our Judeo-Christian tradition also compels us to care. Exodus 23:9 says, "You shall not oppress a resident alien; you know the heart of an alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt." Matthew 25:40 says, "Whatever you do unto the least of these my brethren, you do unto me." In Postville, there are many people who may be considered "resident aliens" or "the least of these." We're called to care for them because God cares about them.
We should also care because "we" are "them." "Our" lives outside of Postville are bound up in "their" lives inside of Postville. Martin Luther King Jr. said: "We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied into a single garment of destiny." The apostle Paul said: "If one member of the body suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it." Our actions and inactions affect one another. Together we must act so honor can replace the suffering of us all.
Somehow, this perversion of justice in Postville must be addressed and transformed. We all deserve it. So here are five simple actions we can take:
(3) Watch the free documentary Voice of a Mountain, which adds more context to the conversation about immigration reform.
(4) Enjoy high quality coffee from Juan Ana Coffee. This small coffee company in San Lucas Tolimán, Guatemala, helps to provide local people with land, jobs, and homes. It literally helps to provide land for the landless. Drink some coffee. Help people in poverty. Help reduce the need for immigration. Everyone wins!
(5) Donate money to St. Bridget's Parish, which is providing basic help to the families who are in crisis:
St. Bridget's Hispanic Ministry Fund c/o Sister Mary McCauley P.O. Box 369 Postville, Iowa 52162
Click here to watch Sojourners' video of Sister Mary of St. Bridget's, who has been ministering to immigrant families in Postville.
Brian Brandsmeier was born and raised in northeast Iowa. He was an English tutor in Postville while he was a student at Luther College. Brian just finished a master's degree in divinity at Eden Theological Seminary in Saint Louis, Missouri.
My wife and I are starting the book of Luke for our devotional reading this week. The whole Christmas story comes up so fast, and it is a bit strange to consider the story in August. We talked about the extreme categorization of the Western church and how certain stories are usually told only at one time of the year. Well, not so now.
We thought if we can separate ourselves from the "assigned category" of Christmas and hear the story as a story -- not just as the propositional truth we are expected to hear -- maybe something different will surface, and it did. It was very simple, really. Just one thought we always missed when hearing the story at Christmas.
The scriptures give us the words to Mary's song. In Luke 1:52-53, she sings out for joy after the conception of Christ:
"He has brought down princes from their thrones and exalted the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away with empty hands."
I had understood before that the Messiah was to bring Jubilee and justice, but I had never really applied this to Mary's heart for justice as preparation for the Christ. Of all the women in Israel, Mary's heart was prepared to see justice from God's purview. She had a divine perspective to see the haughty, rich rulers brought low and the poor, hungry oppressed receive some of their wealth. It was in a heart like this that God chose to make possible the birth that was to bring about our salvation.
Is this our perspective and heart? If not, will there really be a place for Jesus there? Our actions often reveal what is in our hearts. Are we serving the marginalized of society? According to the scriptures, they are whom God favors. Do our wallets reflect this heart for poor and oppressed people? Do our votes reflect God's sense of justice for the poor and oppressed? Like you, I need to answer this question today in August -- rather than waiting until Christmas.
Rev. Randy Woodley is a Keetoowah Cherokee Indian teacher, lecturer, poet, activist, pastor, and the author of Living in Color: Embracing God's Passion for Ethnic Diversity (InterVarsity Press). http://www.eagleswingsministry.com/
Take my instruction instead of silver,
and knowledge rather than choice gold;
for wisdom is better than jewels,
and all that you may desire cannot compare with her. - Proverbs 8:10-11
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There's a great deal of conversation these days about the nature of human consciousness and, as a related issue, about the true definition of "human" and how it can be best described. There's so much such conversation, in fact, that it is essentially impossible (especially in my business, Lord knows) to avoid getting sucked into it, whether as an active participant or simply as a passive, and sometimes unwilling, hearer.
The question -- or questions, though I don't think the two can be separated -- of human consciousness and of the actual structure of the human as a being lies at the base of religion as surely and deftly as the soil embraces and sustains a living tree. As a result, ours is hardly the first time in human history that the question(s) has been asked and, temporarily at least, answered. Descartes's famous "Cogito ergo sum" stands as a prime example of an earlier, albeit transitory, solution. The difference between our asking and the asking of five centuries ago is that we in the 21st century now have a body of physical science far in excess of anything earlier periods of history could have ever even dreamed of, much less enjoyed.
Everything from cognitive science to artificial intelligence to nanotechnology, from human physiology to neurobiology to neurosurgery, from quantum theories of consciousness to mechanistic psychology ... each of them, along with the disciplines related to, or descended from them, contributes on an almost hourly basis to our bank of sheer physical information. We know "how" mentation works ... or we are well on our way to knowing with considerable precision the first steps toward mapping how a great deal of it works; and there is every reason to assume we will be closer tomorrow than we are today to fathoming the mechanics of human thought. The question, in other words, increasingly is not how the human animal thinks and/or develops an autobiographical self, but rather the question is what is that "self" and how is it related to, or identical with, the human being.
The presence of the question and the myriad of theories swarming around it like bees to the flower pot have led to an increasing, and a certainly invigorated, atheism that is itself by way of becoming a serious religion, having all the hallmarks by which a religion can objectively be delineated. That development is ironic enough to amuse me at times and passingly, but it also has a popular appeal that deeply troubles me.
There is a distinct difference between the skin or peel of the peach and the germ of the peach resting interior to its pit and being the life that will make another tree after the peach itself is destroyed. Science, child of religion and gift of God to our lives, can tell us grand things about the peach's exterior, about the chemicals used by it and needed by it, about its proper care, about the adjustments possible in enhancing its flavor or appeal, about increasing its longevity after picking and its resistance to the bruises of being shipped. Science can tell us all of these things; and if we're smart, we'll accept and employ every one of them. Science cannot tell us what it is that the peach's germ contains. Science cannot show us the life there. It never will be able to, nor should we ever expect it to do so.
What we should be smart enough to understand, however, is that the peach itself has to die to get at the pit and the kernel it contains. The peach we know and the peach we can describe and the peach we can more or less understand, but the peach we will either toss out or eat and then evacuate into the sewer line. It was never about the peach. It was always about the germ.
Confusing the two can lead to a lot of foggy thinking and, as a result, to a lot of bombast and hot air, but all the rhetorical gymnastics in the world can neither make the peach eternal nor define the vita et spiritus in its germ.
And that's my greeting from The Farm In Lucy on this bright Sabbath morning, where the peaches are plump and juicy and where my heart, as well as my tongue, delights in them.
The combined outcome of events happening at the moment is hard to predict, but something is brewing in the southern African region around the issue of Zimbabwe. Here are "the key ingredients" in this pot:
1. The Southern African Development Community (SADC), a group of regional leaders representing 14 countries in southern Africa, are meeting this weekend. Top on the agenda is the situation in Zimbabwe.
2. At this meeting there will be a change of leadership from the president of Zambia to the president of South Africa.
3. The Zimbabwean opposition party leaders are expected at the meeting, but yesterday their passports were seized at the airport, preventing them from leaving Zimbabwe. Their passports were subsequently returned.
4. Botswana has threatened to boycott the meeting if there is no resolution to the Zimbabwe crisis by the time the conference starts.
5. The largest trade union organisation in South Africa (COSATU) will be holding marches against the Zimbabwean and Swaziland governments' presence at the SADC summit.
6. COSATU is also planning to boycott all imports passing through South Africa to Zimbabwe, from Sept. 3. Most Zimbabwean imports come through South Africa.
7. The power-sharing deal between ZANU-PF and the opposition party (MDC) has hit a brick wall. The contentious issue is power and control of the military.
8. Temporary shelters set up by the South African government for victims of xenophobic violence were due to be dismantled yesterday, as the government feels it is safe for the victims to return to communities that burned their homes and killed some of them. A court application barring the closure of these camps will be heard this afternoon.
There is an expectation that these events will not only shape the politics of the region, but the direction of the negotiations in Zimbabwe. May God help us. Please continue to pray.
Isaiah 40:27-29:
O Jacob, (Zimbabwe) how can you say the Lord does not see your troubles?
O Israel, (Zimbabwe) how can you say God ignores your rights?
Have you never heard?
Have you never understood?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of all the earth.
God never grows weak or weary.
No one can measure the depths of God's understanding.
God gives power to the weak
and strength to the powerless.
Torture is a moral issue. On Sept. 11-12, 2008, in Atlanta, Georgia, Christians will be sharing their grave concerns over the United States' position on this practice at "A National Summit on Torture: Religious Faith, Torture, and our National Soul."
In order to bring this subject to the forefront of the church's dialogue, Sojourners is proud to help sponsor the conference, alongside Mercer University, Evangelicals for Human Rights, and the National Religious Campaign Against Torture -- in cooperation with the Center for Victims of Torture, Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, Faith and the City, Faith in Public Life, Evangelicals for Social Action, and the National Hispanic Christian Leadership Conference.
The two days will look at the path the U.S. has taken since Sept. 11, 2001, and the ways we can, without exceptions, reject torture. A variety of speakers and faith backgrounds will be represented, so all are welcome and all should join in. It will be an open dialogue and discussion, and will set the example for the type of discourse needed to achieve success against torture.
I've been reading through the extensive comments on my blog post on abortion reduction and the Democratic Platform. As usual, the comments span the spectrum. But I found it puzzling that those who are so adamantly against the Democrats on abortion (as I have also been) seem so satisfied with the Republicans just repeating that abortion should be illegal, while the abortion rate never changes, even under Republican rule. The Republican position often feels cynical to me -- privately admitting that a total ban on abortion in America will never happen, but using it every four years to get the votes of people who genuinely care about saving unborn lives (as I do).
I would encourage those critics to listen to the comments of Doug Kmiec, a Republican judicial appointee of Ronald Reagan, a Catholic intellectual, and Chair & Professor of Law at Pepperdine University, who cares deeply about abortion but now thinks the Democrats have a good chance to reduce the abortion rate. During a conference call that Sojourners hosted this week with evangelical and Catholic leaders, Doug said, "What this does is commit the Democratic Party to supply real support for the child and for the woman facing this question in terms of pre- and post-natal healthcare, in terms of income support, the kind of support like paternity leave, family leave and an improvement in the accessibility in adoption. These are tangible things and very much related to Catholic social teachings." He also sees a positive step in the Democratic Platform language in the affirmation of abortion reduction and the practical solutions that would support that goal; rather than just repeating a symbolic ban. I agree with him.
Sojourners is on record in support of a ban on partial birth abortions and other restrictions but we don't believe that simple bans are possible or even the most pro-life solutions. Support for women caught up in difficult situations and tragic choices is a better path than coercion for really reducing the abortion rate. Yes, I agree there is never a "need" for abortion except in the case where the health of the mother is threatened. But until we can reach out to women who "feel" the need for abortion and support them in alternative choices, we will never change the shameful abortion rate that both sides seem content to live with while they just attack each other. It is time to move from symbols to solutions.
I've been on lots of roads trips, but none of them compare to The Walnut Hills Fellowship's weekend journey to Chicago. Start to finish, it was a thing of rare beauty. We had been talking about it for months, of course, but I think most of our neighborhood friends still didn't really believe it was going to happen. After all, people around here are always talking about things they don't really intend to do. As plans firmed up the week before we left, however, people got nervous in a big way. All of a sudden, nearly everybody had a reason they couldn't go.
At first I was shocked that people who had never been on a real vacation were ready to throw away such a golden opportunity because they couldn't afford new traveling clothes, or because there was no television or smoking in the dorm rooms were staying in, or because we decided against beer-drinking and spending money in the interest of group solidarity, or because they were less than thrilled with one or another activity on our itinerary. It angered me that my friends were so inflexible, especially because most were contributing little or nothing at all to the trip. Fortunately, just before I shot off my mouth at dinner the week before we left, Karen and Mark set me straight: Our neighbors weren't ungrateful. They were terrified.
There I was, an educated and experienced world traveler, talking about familiar attractions like the Navy Pier and the Magnificent Mile, secure in the knowledge that I would be driving one of the vans, holding lots of cash and a handful of credit cards, along with my unlimited-use cell phone and a long list of Chicago friends in case of an emergency. There they were, with no such knowledge and no control whatsoever, being asked almost casually to just relax, follow directions, and unquestioningly trust me and my more privileged buddies with their lives. Really, it's a wonder we made it out of town at all. ...
Wednesday's New York Times gives a shocking description of the death of Hiu Liu Ng, also known as Jason Ng. Cause of death? Untreated cancer after nearly a year in an ICE detention center. Ng was a 34 year old computer programmer who worked at the Empire State Building and the father of two young sons. He was married to a U.S. citizen and was seeking his green card. Originally from Hong Kong, he had lived over half of his life in the United States. Not your typical or convenient description of an "illegal alien."
Would this have happened to a U.S. citizen? No. Did Jesus say in Matthew 25, "For I was sick and you questioned my documentation status, I was in prison and you reminded me that I was an illegal in the first place?" No. Shouldn't we as Christians be outraged at the mistreatment of vulnerable people, regardless of their origin or status?
I implore you to read this article about Ng's death and the response of our government, which denied him medical treatment, access to a wheelchair, and visits from family members and attorneys because he was too weak to enter the visitor's area. This is a real story of loss and suffering at the hands of a broken system. Even when people enter our country the "right way," nothing is guaranteed and nothing is certain. Our current ailing system, riddled with mistakes, loopholes and extended processes led to broken dreams and broken lives in the case of Hiu Lui Ng and his entire family.
Allison Johnson is the policy and organizing assistant for Sojourners.
When Gentiles, who do not possess the law, do instinctively what the law requires, these, though not having the law, are a law to themselves. They show that what the law requires is written on their hearts, to which their own conscience also bears witness; and their conflicting thoughts will accuse or perhaps excuse them on the day when, according to my gospel, God, through Jesus Christ, will judge the secret thoughts of all.
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Abortion is a moral issue, felt deeply on all sides of the debate. That debate has also been deeply divisive, becoming a "third rail" of American politics. It often influences outcomes of elections, and therefore the direction of the country in other important policy areas. Consistent polling shows that most are between the polarized extremes, simplistically named "pro-life" and "pro-choice." A majority is both concerned, even alarmed, about the abortion rate in America, yet is hesitant to criminalize it. We have sorely needed new common ground that focuses on reducing the need for and number of abortions. Such common ground could be supported by both sides and affirmed by many in the middle.
This past weekend, the Democratic Party's 2008 platform language was approved. Many have been waiting to see their language about abortion for this election season. The 1996 and 2000 Democratic platforms contained a clause that read, "The Democratic Party is a party of inclusion. We respect the individual conscience of each American on this difficult issue, and we welcome all our members to participate at every level of our party." The draft language of the 2008 platform builds on that clause by supporting two choices that a woman might make--both of which the Democratic Party "strongly supports."
First, the platform states that the Democratic Party "strongly and unequivocally supports Roe vs. Wade and a woman's right to choose a safe and legal abortion, regardless of ability to pay, and we oppose any and all efforts to weaken or undermine that right." That traditional position of the Democratic Party was to be expected.
Then the platform says the Democratic Party "also strongly supports access to comprehensive affordable family planning services and age-appropriate sex education which empower people to make informed choices and live healthy lives. We also recognize that such health care and education help reduce the number of unintended pregnancies and thereby also reduce the need for abortions."
The platform takes a significant step forward in affirming those whose moral convictions lead them to make a different decision than abortion. It reads, "The Democratic Party also strongly supports a woman's decision to have a child by ensuring access to and availability of programs for pre- and post-natal health care, parenting skills, income support, and caring adoption programs." That position will help make room for people, especially in the religious community, who have strong moral convictions about abortion. Many pro-life Democrats (and there are many in the party) have been looking to be heard, respected, and given a valued space in their own party (as pro-choice Republicans have in their party).
There is indeed some chance for common ground here in the mutual respect for different moral convictions and a shared desire to decrease the need for abortion. There is also a deep and growing conviction among evangelicals and Catholics that the "life issues" also extend to the 30,000 children who die globally each day from poverty and preventable disease, issues of genocide in places like Darfur, human trafficking, the domestic issues of poverty and health care, the foreign policy issues of war and peace, and even in threats like climate change. This election provides us with a pivotal opportunity to transcend old polarities and attempt to bring people together on common ground in a "consistent ethic of life" across a range of issues.
There is a "parallelism of choice" here in the Democratic platform that is a good and new direction that will make many people feel more welcome. The party is now on record in "strongly" supporting both a woman's right to choose abortion or to decide to have her child with promised support, creating common ground in agreeing for the need to reduce abortions.
All that is a step in the right direction: supportive of individual conscience, of the different decisions a woman can make, and of reducing the need for abortions. By supporting the fuller range of women's choice, the Democratic Party would be empowering more women, including low-income women who might like to carry their child to term for personal or moral reasons, but often lack the support to do so.
The rate of unintended pregnancies among poor women (below 100 percent of poverty) is nearly four times that of women above 200 percent of poverty. The abortion rate among women living below the federal poverty level is more than four times that of women above 300 percent of the poverty level. Three-fourths of women who have an abortion say a reason is that they cannot afford a child.
Policies and programs that focus on reducing poverty--also strong planks in the Democratic platform--would increase the economic stability of women and thus also help reduce the abortion rate. Policies that prevent unintended pregnancies through accessible family planning, including contraceptives, age-appropriate sex education-- including abstinence education--reducing teen pregnancy, economic support, accessible and affordable health care, adoption reform and incentives, are all critical and are pointed to in the platform.
The Democratic platform has taken an important first step. They took an important step beyond the traditional position on Roe vs. Wade by also supporting a woman's decision to have her child. They also sought and listened to input from moderate religious leaders.
Republicans have long made a strong opposition to abortion a central issue in their platforms and campaigns. Yet their symbolic commitment to making abortion illegal, even with a Republican in power, hasn't made any change in the rate of abortions in America. Religious leaders should also now urge the Republican Party to move forward. It's not enough to affirm their traditional support for making abortion illegal; they should also adopt the policies on reducing abortions. The bottom line for many Christians is how to save unborn lives.
Of course, it is now up to the Democratic candidate to interpret the platform and shape the issue. In an interview with Christianity Today, Barack Obama said, "I do think that those who diminish the moral elements of the decision aren't expressing the full reality of it."
Acknowledging that abortion is a moral issue, no matter what side you are on, is a way to respect the moral convictions of both sides, and begin to find some common ground. We could truly make reducing the abortion rate in America a nonpartisan issue and a bipartisan cause. It is a common-sense approach that could unite the vast majority of Americans around a goal that leverages support for women, instead of coercion, to dramatically reduce the number of abortions in America.
Virginia Mitchell and Charlton Breen of the Michigan Darfur Coalition (MDC) recently sat down for an interview with Dominic Maurice. Maurice is a former "Lost Boy" refugee from Sudan who has become a U.S. citizen and resides in Michigan. Last week, Maurice's friend, Lopez Lomong, was selected by Team USA to carry the American flag at the Olympic parade of nations in Beijing.
Charlton Breen:I understand your journey to the United States was a long and improbable one. Can you describe it?
Dominic Maurice: I was born in the village of Chukueum in Southern Sudan. Chukueum was a beautiful village surrounded by mountains. Our family lived on a farm. My father was a teacher, while my mother stayed home to tend to our house and the children. I had started school myself, but everything changed when I was only nine years old.
The war started and the government mandated that all boys from our tribe be killed. So, 50 kids from our town left on foot. Several mothers came with us because they had boys who were too young to make the journey. Our ages ranged from 3 to 15. The majority of the boys were about my age. We had to hide and sleep during the day and walk at night. We walked directly to Kenya, where the United Nations was waiting for us in the Juja region. Not everyone survived the journey. There was no real food for many days, and people ate whatever they could find along the way. Several people died of hunger, while others were taken by animals.
We arrived in Juja in 1991. We lived in Juja for 10 years. On December 29, 2001, I left Kenya and came to Lansing, Michigan, with two other guys. We stayed with an American family. We met them for the first time at the airport, and they helped teach how life in the U.S. is different.
Virginia Mitchell: You recently became a U.S. citizen. Can you tell me about that experience?
Maurice: This process began around 1994. Eventually we became permanent residents of the U.S. After five years, we were eligible for citizenship. When our applications were finally approved we had to submit our fingerprints, and then wait even longer. Eventually, we received our citizenship ceremony letter. People from the MDC talked to a judge to get me a private ceremony. I had my ceremony at a junior high classroom in Detroit. One of the boys in the class had raised $2,000 for the MDC, and they were excited to be a part of the ceremony.
It's great being a citizen now, because I can travel and have a passport, and also I feel great because I know I can stay here. And, in the future I want to be able to contribute to something good, in the way that people have contributed to me.
Charlton Breen:Last week in Beijing, Lopez Lomong was chosen by Team USA to carry the flag at the parade of nations during the opening ceremony. How do you know Lopez, and what was it like to watch him at the ceremony?
Maurice: I have known Lopez since we lived together in the same compound in Kenya. We played games together. I came to the U.S. first and he came later to Syracuse, New York. He tried out for the Olympics in Oregon, then trained in Colorado. We were together again in Colorado, because my cousin graduated from college there at the same time.
It was very exciting to see him on TV. He means a lot to me and to all of us back home in Sudan. We are very proud to see him representing the USA. It sends a message that people can come from anywhere and achieve their dreams. But we didn't actually dream this dream when we were living together in Kenya. Who thought this would be possible? When we were back in Kenya, these types of dreams just didn't occur because we didn't know they could. We are very thankful to the United Nations and the U.S. government for giving us the opportunity to come here.
Virginia Mitchell: What do you think of attempts to link the genocide in Darfur with the Beijing Olympics?
Maurice: Because of a lack of coverage in the media, not everybody knew that there is a link between Sudan and China, but recent news regarding the Olympics is helping people to learn about the link. I think it is very helpful to link China to Sudan to try to get China to help the people of Sudan. I hope the Olympics can bring about a new agenda that will be helpful.
Virginia Mitchell: President Bashir has recently been indicted by the International Criminal Court. How did you feel when you heard this news?
I felt great. I won't lie. I felt great. He is a part of the problem. For the ICC to do this, it shows where the responsibility lies for the war in Darfur. I will be happy for him to appear in court. He should be held accountable for his actions.
Charlton Breen: How do you think the international community is doing with efforts to end genocide in Darfur?
The world is doing a good job of trying to help Sudan, but the problem is with the Sudan government. The international community is trying its best.
Virginia Mitchell: You have spoken at several events for the MDC. Is it difficult for you to recount your experiences?
Maurice: It is not difficult to tell people. My mind can still remember what happened. I think people need to know. I feel good letting people know my story.
Charlton Breen: You are about to become a junior at Grand Valley State University (GVSU). What challenges have you faced since starting college?
Maurice: Just getting through it. It takes a long time. I wish I was a senior! I want to be done, so that I can have a chance to do something more. The hardest part, though, is the financial situation. I work when I am not in school, and they (GVSU) tell me I make enough money to pay for my school expenses, but in reality, I don't have enough money after my other expenses to pay tuition. The little money that I make that is left over after expenses, I need to send home to my family in the Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya.
Virginia Mitchell: How is life for your family these days?
Maurice: I just talked to them last week. The conditions in Kakuma are really bad. People are getting killed. You can't walk around by yourself or at night. The U.N. is still there, but their rations are too small. There's not enough food or clean water, so I send them money so they can survive.
Virginia Mitchell: Do you miss your home in Sudan? Do you plan to return there one day?
Maurice: Yes, I miss my family and my community. But the situation is not good. Hopefully I will visit around Christmas this year. If everything goes right, I can go in December. I am still waiting for my passport, but the people of Aldersgate United Methodist Church in Grand Rapids have sponsored my airfare.
Charlton Breen:What are your dreams for the future?
Maurice: I have the same dream as Lopez to run in the Olympics. I was running track and playing soccer. But I had to change my plans to just try to support myself, and that kind of killed my dream of running. My new dream is to finish school and to work for an organization and work with children. Because organizations helped me once, so I want to help people, too. I just want to help and contribute, either to kids in Sudan or here in the U.S. I also want to write a book detailing my journey and what I had to go through to get to where I am now.
God sets out upon the humiliating path of reconciliation and thereby pronounces the world free. God wills to be guilty of our sin, and takes over the punishment and suffering sin has brought upon us. God answers for godlessness, love for hatred, the saint for the sinner. Now there is no godlessness, no hatred, no sin which God has not carried, suffered, and atoned. Now there is no reality, no world that is not reconciled and in peace with God. God did this in the beloved son Jesus Christ. - Dietrich Bonhoeffer Meditations on the Cross
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Why do the nations conspire, and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord and his anointed, saying, Let us burst their bonds asunder, and cast their cords from us.
In the Sojourners/CNN candidate forum in June of 2007, John Edwards said, "I sin every day," in response to a question on sin and forgiveness. Some journalists thought that was a throwaway line from a politician. But as the nation shockingly heard one week ago, Edwards was speaking honestly and even confessionally. Here was a man in a good and strong marriage, known to be a wonderful father, and yet last Friday he painfully and publicly confessed to the terrible mistake of an affair with another woman, which caused great hurt to his wife and the family he loves so much.
Having confessed the sin to his family, dealt with the hurt, anger, and even "furious" response to such a severe breach of his closest relationships, the Edwards were hoping to keep the transgression and process of family healing private. But as the story was beginning to leak into the public square, John Edwards made a dramatic confession on ABC News and unleashed a torrent of reaction over the last week.
When these sad, tragic, and heartbreaking revelations occur, it always reminds me of the text from Romans: "There is none righteous, no not one." Yes, Edward's observation during the Sojourners/CNN forum was correct, and he is not the only one. Paul reminds us, "We all have sinned and come short of the glory of God."
I have respected John Edwards' championing of the moral issue of poverty, and that's why he appears on the cover of the latest issue of Sojourners, along with former Republican presidential candidate Mike Huckabee. I interviewed them both several weeks ago about how we could truly put poverty on the agenda in America. On last month's cover, we featured Elizabeth Edwards, who wrote eloquently about the need for everyone in America to have the kind of health care she has in her courageous fight against cancer.
I know both John and Elizabeth Edwards, and I am blessed to call them friends. John Edwards knows the pain he has caused, which has been rubbed raw again during these excruciating days of sensational media coverage of the most personal of failings. I admire the way they have faced this most tragic situation together. For our part, let's now offer them our heartfelt prayers for the continued healing of their marriage and family life. I pray that they will now be left alone so they may have a time for healing.
For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him. For, "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved."
Forgiveness is the key that unlocks the door of resentment and the handcuffs of hate. It is a power that breaks the chains of bitterness and the shackles of selfishness.
It is Tuesday, August 12, and the leaders of the political parties are still locked in talks of power sharing -- it was expected that a deal would be struck on Sunday, but to no avail, so the talks continue. Most of us are still digesting and coming to terms with the content of the proposed new deal -- some parts are hard to swallow, but I think the model of power-sharing being used by chief mediator Thabo Mbeki is modeled on the South African experience.
If you can recall, to avert violence and bring peace the African National Congress (ANC) had to compromise with the National Party. So F.W. de Klerk was made vice president and the national anthem of the National Party was incorporated into the ANC anthem. There was realism that as much as the ANC wanted absolute power, they could not wish away the NP. Power-sharing and compromise was the best option. The agreement had its flaws, but the good far outweighed the weaknesses. The question now is whether the same will happen in Zimbabwe. There are similar parallels -- Mugabe and ZANU-PF are a formidable force that cannot be wished away and have support, so it seems necessary for the sake of progress to move forward. It will be imperfect with many flaws, but it's a starting point. In a few years, Zimbabweans will vote for the government they want, as has happened in South Africa.
The point is whether the South African experience will prove effective for Zimbabwe. There are no guarantees, but there does not seem to be other alternatives that will shift Zimbabwe to a new era of peace, democracy, and freedom. It's a gamble based on a good practice, but is it best for Zimbabwe? We don't know!
Interestingly, the government has also expressed commitment to the process until a solution is found that works for both parties for the benefit of Zimbabweans. The key issue is said to be real power-sharing and the future role of Mugabe in the government of national unity. Another historical event may be playing a key role in the delay in talks. Around 1987, a government of national unity was formed between ZANU-PF and an opposition party called ZAPU. The opposition leader was given the office of second vice president, which he accepted. In reality, it was a ceremonial position with no power -- the opposition party was swallowed up and rendered powerless. This piece of history is a sober reminder of the way in which the government understands "power-sharing."
Fortunately history has lessons for the future, of which the opposition is probably keenly aware. It was reported that after the talks on Sunday, one of the key negotiators for the opposition party said: "Please pray."
Nontando Hadebe, a former Sojourners intern, is originally from Zimbabwe and is now pursuing graduate studies in theology in South Africa.
During the summer of 2003, my cousin and his girlfriend celebrated the birth of their son Glenn Molex, III. I remember getting the call from his father and hearing the pride in his voice when he told me about the birth. My cousin and his girlfriend live in the inner city and by social definitions, they are poor. But in spite of their financial situation, when they found out that they were going to become parents, they decided to go through with the pregnancy and keep the baby. They do not attend church, and I'm not sure if they have ever been inside a church for anything other than funerals for friends lost to street violence.
Two weeks after my grandmother died I received a call from my mother, who is also now deceased, telling me that there was a drive-by shooting on my cousin's house. He, friends, and other family members were sitting on the porch that night when a car drove up and shots were fired. My cousin's girlfriend was in the house with the baby. She laid him on the couch and ran to see if everyone was okay. When she returned to get the baby, he was dead -- a stray bullet hit him in the head. What's my point in sharing this tragedy?
These were two young people living in poverty who decided to have their child, not because they are Christians, not because of their understanding of the Bible, or not because of any change in legislation related to abortion, but simply because they wanted to raise and love their child. However, that dream was taken away from them because of a drive-by shooting.
Here is where I find myself getting angry with the right-to-life argument. I don't like the idea of abortion. I know women who have made that choice, and they have told me it was the hardest thing for them to do. Some regret it, some don't, but all of them agree that it has stayed with them all of their lives. What I would like to see from those who champion the right-to-life argument is that they spend just as much energy fighting for children to have the right to a better life once they are born. I do not condemn their perspective; I just believe they should go much further and fight for a child's future once he or she is born. In other words, fight for better public schools, for tougher gun laws, mentoring programs, after-school programs to give kids options so that they don't choose gangs, and adopt children who need a loving family.
Similarly, rather than condemning women who choose to have abortions, the question we have to answer is this: Will the church minister to women in the pain of making that decision and help them find healing through a God who still loves them -- a God who is forgiving and who reminds us that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ, and because of him even in our brokenness we can be made whole? God does not hate people; God hates sin, which is why God sent Jesus, so that sin no longer has the power to separate us from God.
When it comes to abortion and homosexuality, maybe we should look at how our words can hurt people emotionally and distance them spiritually. Is it possible that we can do what a wise man once told me:
When you are doing the work of ministering to people, it is not your job to change anyone, only God can do that, your job is to be a connector. You introduce them to God and let them get to know each other. Our assignment is simply to hold God's people with our hands open, with all of their hopes, dreams, faults, fears, pain, and doubts. You hold them with your hands open, and the moment you try to close your hands and mold them into what you think they should be, you are going too far.
I think he was right. Had I allowed myself to be molded into the image of what others thought I should be, I would not be "becoming" the person that God wants me to be. I would have become what others chose to create, a proverbial golden calf created by those who were too impatient to wait on God.
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For whoever was called in the Lord as a slave is a freed person belonging to the Lord, just as whoever was free when called is a slave of Christ. You were bought with a price; do not become slaves of human masters.
Being at home in the land of my birth, South Africa, over the last five weeks has been awesome. It is wonderful being amongst family and friends, and having our daughter Mahalia Khanya be with our "peeps."
However, as much as the wonder and joy of being home is "something to write home about," there is also much shock and disgust brewing for me personally, as well as for the broader South African society.
People are feeling the pinch of living in a South Africa where democracy has seemingly celebrated a capitalistic culture that does very little for a large population of impoverished people in this developing country. Within an environment where democracy is in need of a social consciousness, reform is needed for the large majority of people who have been denied their rights to basic needs of education, housing, water, etc.
There are several more complexities that South Africa is dealing with, related to a failing democracy and a government that is losing sight of the vision for which it was elected. The complexities of corruption, fraud, arms deals, the Zimbabwe crisis, unemployment, HIV/AIDS, violence and crime, children living on the streets, extreme poverty, etc., are those foremost in my mind and in discussions I have been having with people working in development, child and youth care, corporations, churches, and mosques.
People are facing outrageous hikes in costs on their home loans, where monthly repayments have doubled in just two months. Prices of meat and vegetables, oil, rice, and maize meal have escalated so that a low-income family cannot afford to even purchase toilet paper and bathing soap.
However, among all the chaos of my current-day South Africa, there remains a mystical faith that propels people in the most adverse circumstances to look forward to a brighter day. I have found it most difficult at times to understand how people in such dire straits could still have the audacity to hope and have faith that things will work out right. That mystical faith, with which I have come into contact in the land of my dreams, encourages me, challenges me, and changes me. It further centers, conscientizes, and mobilizes me to continue believing, striving, pursuing, and demanding transformation that will ensure a South Africa that is caring for all its people: citizen, immigrant, and refugee.
Seth Naicker is an activist for justice and reconciliation from South Africa. He is currently studying and working at Bethel University, in St. Paul, Minnesota, as the program and projects director for the Office of Reconciliation Studies. He can be reached at seth-naicker@bethel.edu or smnaick@hotmail.com
As we draw closer to the candidate forum at Saddleback Church, I've had several conversations with clergy on the West Coast. Many are wondering if candidates will be asked about abortion and gay marriage. In California there is a ballot initiative on gay marriage, and I'm also hearing that this issue is on the ballot in Florida. No matter how much some people don't want to talk about it, these issues are not going away and they cannot be ignored. I am also among those who have attempted to avoid discussing these two issues, fearing the backlash or getting people off track from talking about other issues on which I work. But perhaps we can engage in a far more healthy discussion about them than we have in the past.
These are the two most divisive issues in the Christian community. I have friends on both sides, and whenever we talk about them I hear a lot of anger toward people on the opposing side. When my liberal friends talk about abortion and gay rights, they talk about ways we can decrease the abortion rate and make it uncommon and rare. When my conservative friends talk about abortion, they talk about sin and the right to life. When my liberal friends talk about gay marriage, they talk about fairness and equality. When my conservative friends talk about gay marriage, they talk about sin.
Homosexuality is not an issue that I fully understand, nor is it one that I have spent time working on with congregations engaged in social justice. But whenever it comes up in discussions around politics, I have given up on engaging in conversations that use the sin argument. I have seen the tears of parents, family members, and friends of people who are gay when they tell the story of how their loved one was treated by the church or heard a sermon condemning them to hell and expressing hatred, including stories of suicide because people felt they had nowhere to turn.
But when I read the Bible and even more so, the Epistles, what I find missing from the conversation is the fact that these are letters to churches. The writers were telling Christians how they should behave in contrast to how those in the world were behaving. Simply put, it's difficult for us to demand that the world conform to biblical standards because they would fail. The only way we are able to live by biblical principles is because we are indwelt with the Holy Spirit. The other issue with condemning people for their sins is the reality that God is not done with them (or us) yet. Yes, I believe that we should address sin, but we should do it out of love -- so that people give their lives to Christ -- and not out of judgment or to evoke fear. I find that some of my friends spend more energy talking about sin than they do about love or the fruit of the Spirit.
If we support legislation solely on the premise that certain behaviors are sin, doing so will not do anything to affect a person's relationship with God. My understanding is that we have been given the ministry of reconciliation. God has not given us the power to change anyone; it's hard enough trying to change ourselves. The power is in God's hands. Perhaps our assignment is to be connectors, introducing people to God and then letting them have their own conversation.
You yourselves recently repented and did what was right in my sight by proclaiming liberty to one another, and you made a covenant before me in the house that is called by my name; but then you turned around and profaned my name when each of you took back your male and female slaves, whom you had set free according to their desire, and you brought them again into subjection to be your slaves. Therefore, thus says the Lord: You have not obeyed me by granting a release to your neighbors and friends; I am going to grant a release to you, says the Lord--a release to the sword, to pestilence, and to famine.
Christianity ... is always in need of re-simplifying, going back to its origins, ridding itself of the excessive superstructure it has acquired through history.
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One of the great recent joys of my life has been a thing called "Beer and Bible," which happens every other Tuesday night at a small neighborhood pub in Memphis called, appropriately enough, Kudzu's. Kudzu, our bar's namesake, is the South's most ubiquitous form of plant life. It vines its way over almost everything else in sight, giving a vitality and lushness to landscapes that by this time of year would otherwise be sere and faded in our extreme southern heat. Kudzu's, the pub, is a lot like kudzu the plant. It gives vitality and cool to a lot of landscapes that might otherwise have wilted from the heat or just from life in general.
I had heard of Kudzu's over the years, but because it is in Memphis and Sam and I are not, we had never frequented it. But then last May, a call came. There was a group of regulars at Kudzu's who had been kicking around some God-talk for a while. They'd begun to call the thing "Beer and Bible," though most of them were drinking whiskey or wine, but would I be at all interested in just stopping by one late afternoon during happy hour to let us all talk together about some things that interested them?
You've got to be kidding. Would I be interested? Interested doesn't even begin to touch what I would be and was and, these three months later, still am. We've kicked around everything from hell to salvation, Christianity to Zoroastrianism, the relative validity of experiential truth to that of empirical truth, etc., etc.
There are usually eight or nine of us regulars around the table at Kudzu's on Beer and Bible Tuesdays. Sometimes there are more of us than that, of course, and sometimes we are joined by an in-house "visitor" or two who hear our racket, leave their barstools to eavesdrop, and -- inevitably -- join us. We've had a preacher or two come by to try to figure out what we're up to, and even a trained theologian or two. But by and large, we are just finding our way toward a form of being together that has no pre-existing aims and certainly no set pattern to follow or expectations to fulfill. I can say, however, that in all my years as a professional religionist, I have never heard theology more earnestly or more intelligently talked than it is at Kudzu's.
I spend a lot of my professional time studying and lecturing about 21st century Christianity -- how it got where it is, what in fact it is, where it's going. And one of the things that people are most troubled about as I go around the country speaking is the patent decline in church membership per se as well as in church attendance. It would irreparably offend most of those distressed people if I were to say to them, face-to-face, that the church is not necessarily in churches anymore. In fact, church is increasingly more active and fully present in places other than sacred buildings than it is in them. But I can say so here.
I can say here what I know to be true: Christianity has never been more alive and vigorous than it is right here and right now. And Kudzu's is but one of thousands of vibrant proofs that that is so. The kingdom of God comes in many forms and many places these days, and what I really want to say is, "Thanks be to God!"
Looks like Joey Cheek -- a winter Olympics medalist who co-founded the organization Team Darfur to protest the genocide incited by the regime in Khartoum -- will not be going to Beijing in support of the Team Darfur athletes about to compete in the Olympics. China, which buys Sudan's oil and often runs interference for the Khartoum regime in the U.N. Security Council, has revoked Cheek's visa and told him to stay out.
But, to paraphrase Matthew 15, it's not what goes into your body politic that gets you in trouble. It's the things that come out, like wickedness, murder, and lies. And China is not doing so well in those departments: A study released this week details how China, thirsty for Sudanese oil, has provided more than 90 percent of the small arms Khartoum bought between 2004 and 2006, along with aircraft and trucks -- many of which were directly used by the government and government-backed militias to commit genocide in Darfur.
In fact, China has become the arms dealer of choice for regimes like those of Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe and the junta that rules Myanmar (not to mention armed factions in Congo's catastrophic civil war). And there is evidence that China has violated the current U.N. embargo on supplying military weapons or training that would be used in Darfur.
And, as a just-released report by the Enough Project points out, these behaviors are counter not just to morality, but also to China's own long-term interests; the people who will throw out Mugabe soon, and the tyrants of Khartoum and Myanmar eventually, will not look with favor on China's record of rewarding their tormentors.
The Olympics should be a time for people to be inspired. And we can be inspired -- for example, by Sudanese-American Olympic athelete Lopez Lomong, a runner who has been selected by the U.S. Olympic team captains to carry the American flag in the opening ceremony today. Lomong has said how honored he feels to be chosen -- and how he's joined Team Darfur because "As athletes, we need to send the message to the [Khartoum] government not to kill or bomb and to China to stop because those guns are not to defend the country, but to kill innocent people." Amen to that!
Elizabeth Palmberg is an assistant editor of Sojourners.
More than a year ago, I posted a piece asking for comments from the readers of the Daily Digest. There were many useful ideas, and I've modified the Digest accordingly. I'm now about to leave for a week's vacation, and thought I'd ask again. The Daily Digest is now being received by more than 25,000 people. So, I thought I'd solicit your opinions.
What do you think, both of the range of sources and topics? Are there important sources I'm not using? Important issues I don't include enough? If you'd like to comment, just post in the comments for this blog post. I'll read them all and respond as possible.
On July 29, 2008, history was made in the United States House of Representatives – well, kinda. Last week, the House formally apologized for slavery, Jim Crow, and for the racist social consequences that have followed. Never before has the U.S. government publicly apologized for the social institution that reduced Africans to chattel. On one hand, I was humbled, not by the apology, but by the tremendous sacrifice that led to it. To be in a moment where the U.S. House of Representatives publicly apologizes for slavery is certainly a testament to some level of social progress. And because any and all societal progress that black people have experienced is due mostly to the courage, perseverance, and radical love of everyday black folk, this progress should certainly be acknowledged. So I want to preface the remainder of this piece by paying homage to those who have paved the way.
Nonetheless, social progress notwithstanding, my initial reaction sounded something like this: “Really, an apology?!” As I sat with my thoughts, I was filled with an amalgam of emotions. I found it humorous (in a laugh-to-keep-from-crying kind of way), insulting (when considered vis-à-vis the racist realities that still dominate black and brown American life), and angering (at this juncture in our history, is this really all there is to our government’s analysis of America’s race problem?). An excerpt from Cornel West’s Race Matters will help to contextualize my thoughts:
Black people in the United States differ from all other modern people owing to the unprecedented levels of unregulated and unrestrained violence directed at them. No other people have been taught to hate themselves – psychic violence – reinforced by the powers of state and civic coercion – physical violence – for the primary purpose of controlling their minds and exploiting their labor for nearly four hundred years.
Some people, however, might posit that I’m being unfair, or at least a little harsh. What if the apology was sincere? What if there was real penitence present? As Christians, are we not called to forgive, “Not seven, but seventy times seven?”
I affirm the need to forgive. However, in this situation it is even more vital to remember the meaning of repentance. The Greek word for repent is “metanoia” and it means to change one’s mind or purpose. The U.S. government, regardless of any apology, cannot be properly forgiven because it has not undergone a sincere “metanoia.” For this apology to yield any meaningful sincerity, it must be reinforced by real, concrete action. A great starting point would be to cease building prisons in lieu of quality schools. This would contribute not only to the reconstruction of black families, but all poor families ravaged by our corrupt legal system. Sadly, this act of sincere repentance (and it is only one of many possibilities) will probably not happen, mainly because of a nagging feeling I had when I first heard of the apology. I had this strange feeling that the apology came with the House members sitting down, so as to protect their wallets. Real American repentance for racism is going to cost us, not just sentiment but also money, and a lot of it. That said, now let’s see how sincerely repentant our government is.
Ben Sanders III received his Master of Divinity degree from Union Theological Seminary in New York City and is a Ph.D. student at the Iliff School of Theology and the University of Denver. His interests include liberation theologies, and the study of the theological and ethical implications of black religion, race, and racialization.
My friends, if anyone is detected in a transgression, you who have received the Spirit should restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness. Take care that you yourselves are not tempted.
One of the stories I first heard on my recent visit to Australia was about what helped swing the vote last November to Kevin Rudd, the new Labor prime minister. I read some new political data by veteran pollster and researcher John Black, who is respected across Australia's political spectrum. Black reported that the pivotal swing vote to Labor this time was among evangelicals and Pentecostals, especially in some key seats in the states of Queensland and South Australia.
That was especially surprising and significant in a very secular country. The Labor Party here, like parties of the left elsewhere, has not been known as "religion friendly," and the Liberal Party (the conservatives in Australia) has had much of the religious vote by tradition and default. But this time was different for a number of reasons.
First, Kevin Rudd was a new kind of Labor candidate who speaks openly and comfortably about his faith. Rudd -- a Catholic who attends an Anglican church -- is theologically articulate, and even likes to write articles about German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Even more important, the evangelical/Pentecostal swing vote was due to how the agenda is changing in those faith communities. In the past, as in the U.S., issues such as abortion, homosexuality, and cloning seemed to be the primary concerns among the religious. But now the “religious agenda” includes global poverty, climate change, and the rights of Aboriginal people, especially among a new generation of Australian believers.
Christian organizations, such as World Vision, are among the leading voices on poverty, the environment, and the trafficking of women and children in economic and sexual slavery. The university events at which I spoke last week were led by “Vision Generation,” a youth movement sparked by World Vision that is leading a campaign to challenge the chocolate industry's use of child workers in West Africa, where 70 percent of the world's cocoa is harvested. The venues were packed. And everywhere I went, the protection of the earth and the threat of global warming was front and center.
Rudd’s clear Christian faith and his embrace of the new agenda of social justice and environmental stewardship seemed to be the big reasons why the evangelical and Pentecostal vote shifted this time. And that swing made a crucial electoral difference.
As I reported in my last post, I met with Kevin Rudd over dinner one night and had a long conversation about all these issues. But I also met with the leading Independent senator, Nick Xenophon, who may represent the balance of power in the new political configuration. He is from the Greek Orthodox Church and is also an articulate Christian on social justice. And on my last day in the country, I was also able to chat briefly with the opposition conservative leader, Brendan Nelson, who told me he meets regularly with faith leaders in Australia, and has also read my books. All the media interviews I did during the week were eager to explore the issues of faith and politics, both in the U.S. and in Australia. For a "secular" country, the social and political impact of faith seems to have become a hot topic.
The latest development on talks between the opposition party -- the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) -- and ZANU-PF President Robert Mugabe is that they have produced a 50-page document as a way forward in power-sharing and the installation of a transitional government. The duration of the transitional government is still being debated -- the opposition wants two years and ZANU-PF wants five. The plan is to eventually dissolve the transitional government and hold fresh elections to appoint a new government. The document is yet to be finalised by the parties. The full text is not yet available to the public -- the information I am giving is from several newspapers. Some of the key issues contained in the document are as follows:
Robert Mugabe, president ZANU-PF
President
Ceremonial president without executive power; amnesty offered on condition that he will undertake not to "seek to influence day-to-day governmental decisions, nor will he publicly criticise, expressly or by implication, decisions made by the government."
Morgan Twangirayi, president MDC
Prime minister
Has executive power; rules transitional government for x years (still being debated); appoints two vice prime-ministers, one from his party and one from ZANU-PF.
Ministry of Defense
ZANU-PF
ZANU-PF has control of army.
Police and prisons
MDC
Has control of police.
Ministry of Finance
Independent expert (not from ZANU-PF or MDC)
Challenge to find impartial visionary experts committed to the welfare of all Zimbabweans, especially the poorest of the poor (item for prayer -- please pray).
A blanket amnesty is being offered to everyone who "in the course of upholding or opposing the aims and policies of the government of Zimbabwe, Zanu-PF or either formation of the MDC, may have committed crimes within Zimbabwe." A tough call!
The document has not been officially endorsed by both parties, but it seems likely that they will with a few changes.
Given the history of Zimbabwe, there is reason for caution. However, this is a small step forward and we need to pray that truth and justice will prevail for the benefit of all Zimbabweans. Please continue to pray, and thank you for your prayers.
Nontando Hadebe, a former Sojourners intern, is originally from Zimbabwe and is now pursuing graduate studies in theology in South Africa.
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American churches are still segregated, and it is the way most of us—regardless of our race—would like to keep it. At least, so suggests the recent online CNN article titled, “Why Americans Prefer Their Segregated Sundays." Curtiss DeYoung, professor of Reconciliation Studies at Bethel University, is quoted in this article as saying that only about 5 percent of American churches are racially integrated and half of those churches are moving in the direction of becoming all-black or all-white.
In his book United by Faith, DeYoung and his co-authors Michael O. Emerson, George Yancey, and Karen Chai Kim, argue that when churches can be integrated they should. The reality of residential racial segregation presents a real and sometimes insurmountable hurdle to church integration. However, as inner-city gentrification becomes more of an established part of city life, there is a question about the church’s role in creating stable environments for integration, instead of merely transitional integrated bodies created by the market economy.
As Christians, we all agree that we should want racial integration in all facets of our lives, and, in particular, in our worshipping communities—right? Although the inexcusable sin of white racism still persists and is a major hindrance to church integration, John Blake insightfully reports what might be the most compelling example of why churches should remain segregated—the black church. Established as the result of white racism, the black church formed out of necessity. Historically referred to as the “Invisible Institution,” the black church flourished at the margins and gave its parishioners empowerment through leadership, dignity through shared cultural experiences, and hope through powerful and prophetic preaching. As Blake mentions, the black church still gives its attendees a “break” or a place of retreat from the wear and tear of present-day racism. Similar assets can be found in Asian, Latino, and Native American churches.
It is with this appreciation and recognition, however, that I reveal all of my biases. As a white Christian I have been abundantly and exceedingly blessed to have worshipped in two racially integrated church bodies. Words fail to express how these churches have shaped and transformed my understanding of God and my humble place in this world. For the people of color who have worshipped with me I know that it has sometimes come at a significant cost to them and invaluable benefit to me.
Ultimately, I agree with the authors of United by Faith because I believe that the biblical case for an integrated church is virtually airtight, and the witness it provides to a violent and bigoted world cannot be overstated. Still, the formula for the success of such churches remains persistently and frustratingly elusive.
It does leave me with one final thought. At the beginning of Blake’s article he recounts the fears expressed by black congregants whose church was experiencing an influx of white members. Their fear was that these new white members would take over, rendering its current members disempowered. I sympathize with this fear as it exposes what might be the greatest challenge to whites who want to lead on church integration – if you want to lead you are probably going to have to learn how to follow and serve. We progressive types may even have to learn the radical implications of terms we do not often use, like “submission." Yet this is the way of Christ modeled through his earthly incarnation.
Sondra Shepley is the speaking events manager for Sojourners.
Social sin is the crystallization ... of individuals' sins into permanent structures that keeps sin in being and makes its force to be felt by the majority of people.
- Oscar Romero Salvadoran archbishop, assassinated in 1980
Finally, I answer, "O Lord, my God, you have made me a simple servant, and I mean that literally. I don't know at all how to act. I serve you -- okay, I try to serve you -- in the midst of a people whom you have chosen. And some of them are hungry. Some can't buy a job. Some watch discouragement blacken to despair in their sad, forsaken-feeling hearts. The broken are so vast in number they cannot be counted. Give your servant, therefore, an understanding heart to serve your people. And it would be great if, while you're at it, You could help with the knowing what's right and wrong thing. That always comes in handy."
The Lord smiles. He is pleased that his raga-d gal made this request.
"Because you have asked for this -- not long life for yourself, nor for riches, nor for the life of your enemies --"
"I was kinda gonna ask you to do something about the president. I mean, nothing drastic, but ..."
"Let me finish."
"Sorry. Go on. I'm listening."
"Because you have asked for understanding so that you may do what is right -- I do as you requested."
Okay, God probably says more, but I wake up screaming.
Wisdom. And all I had to do was ask for it and he gave it. Just like that. That was the easy part. Now things get complicated. I'll have to open my hands to take someone else's. Drag 'em along if I have to. Anoint them with oil and bless them. Heal, through no power of my own. Wisdom is not just a gift, but a call to act. The lively Sophia is lovely, but she expects a vigorous response.
Am I ready to give, even in my need? Am I ready to hear her whispers and shouts? Sometimes she's maddening with her concise, razor-sharp, single-word requests. She says, "Justice. Peace. Love." And then it's up to me.
I sit up in bed. Peel the pink shroud off my body. Stand like Lazarus freshly risen from the dead. Reach for my rosary to walk through the life of Christ. I think of Jesus as I pray the Creed, Our Father, and three Hail Mary's for an increase in faith, hope, and love. My voice carries over the drone of the air conditioner. Over my doubts and lingering terrors. Calmer now, I think of Jesus' dreams. Wonder if his father came to him saying:
Did he remember who he was? True God and true man.
"The first joyful mystery," I say. "The Annunciation. Jesus comes down from heaven, and dwells in a mere mortal woman. Talk about poor in spirit! That's a heckuva downsize."
And somehow the idea that everything will be all right dawns on my dark night.
I whisper thanks for wisdom, knowing that wrapped in that shining red package is all I need to do what I'm called to do. Even if I'm poor in spirit.
I like winning, but I've done a lot of losing in my life, especially when it comes to voting. I've got a pretty good track record of picking losers.
But recent history tells us that picking winners in presidential elections has its own dangers.
What happens if the presidential candidate you prefer wins this fall?
As a Christian and citizen, you owe the winning candidate -- whoever he is (we've only got "he's" left this time around) -- the gift of what my friend Jim Wallis calls "prophetic distance." That means two things.
First, you need to be near enough -- connected enough -- to fulfill the kinds of obligations you have as a citizen (suggested, for example, in 1 Timothy 2:1-2 or 1 Peter 2:13-17), and the kind of obligations you have as a follower of Jesus to every human being. Simply put, that means you need to do for the president what you would want others to do for you if you were in his shoes (or in his Pennsylvania Avenue address).
Practically, what does this mean? If you were president, you wouldn't want people to mock you or misrepresent you. You would want your words and actions to be interpreted intelligently and charitably -- not gullibly, but not cynically either. You would want others to tell the truth if they thought you were going wrong, just as you would want them to express their support if they thought you were doing good. You would want citizens to give you the support required to do your job well, which, while it doesn't require agreement, does require respect and civility.
Second, "prophetic distance" requires that you be not too near relationally, not too connected emotionally, not co-dependent or sycophantic -- distant enough to maintain the ability to speak the truth (as you see it) to power. If you lose that distance, you are in danger of becoming what some have called a "useful idiot" -- a yes-man/woman who has lost independence, objectivity, fairness, and the ability to differ.
So if you become a hostile adversary, lobbing verbal bombs from a tactical distance, it guarantees that you won't be listened to. And if you become a compliant yes-man, it guarantees you won't have anything to say that is worth listening to. In between those two extremes is the arena of prophetic distance.
This balance -- near enough, but not so near as to be co-opted; far enough, but not so far as to be ignored -- has eluded many. For example, I recently heard the great preacher/theologian/activist Ray Rivera retell the story of Amaziah, originally told in Amos 7:10. Amaziah was a priest who became the yes-man to King Jeroboam of Israel. The "patriotic" priest tried to pressure Amos to quiet down and join him in cozying up to the king, thus losing his prophetic distance, but Amos -- with characteristic flair -- refused. One also thinks of biblical heroes Nathan and Esther in this regard: Each (in vastly different ways) was close enough to the king to gain access and be heard, but each kept sufficient emotional distance to speak the truth (see 2 Samuel 12 and Esther 8).
Insecure and unwise leaders will seek to surround themselves with yes-men and yes-women. They will "cherry-pick intelligence" to tell them what they want to hear, and they'll marginalize all minority reports. In contrast, secure and wise leaders will always want independent voices around them -- voices who speak from a place of "prophetic distance" -- voices who have the courage to differ and whose loyalty to their nation and their president is always superseded by their loyalty to the truth. This is true of state and local leaders as well as national ones, and it's true of denominational and congregational leaders no less. May you and I be the kinds of leaders who listen to prophetic voices, and may we be the kind of prophetic voices to whom wise leaders can turn for wise input.
We will elect a president this fall. There will be a winner. But we will all be winners if that president is sure to have courageous and honest truth-speakers around him in the zone of prophetic distance.
Brian McLaren is an author and speaker and serves as Sojourners' board chair.
I'm entangled in wrinkled sheets, slowly being strangled by an obscenely cheap pink burial cloth. The brown comforter I kicked to the floor looks as lonely as a mound of dirt. It's the color of dead leaves. Blush-colored blossoms, void of scent, skitter across its surface. I bought it at K-Mart in a happy Asian revival moment. Now, I find it depressing. Brown is the new black, they say.
I turn. The mattress creaks as I shift to face the air conditioner, which sputters and wheezes inadequate puffs of cold air into the suffocating heat. I am miserable. Close my weary eyes. Whisper compline prayers to the white, mocking ceiling. Worries buzz around my head, biting, teasing, questioning. Those awful, futile question:
Will I find a job? How can I see about this lump on my breast with no health insurance? How can I even look for a job when gas is so high? What will we have for dinner when our cabinets have only a bag of flour and two cans of sweet peas?
I wait for him, refusing to dream until I hear his voice. Until he visits the artificial cool of my room like I were his Eve, and it is the evening. And he doesn't mind that my fear is naked and trembling.
Mercy.
"Ask something of me and I will give it to you."
I'd better think this through. Broke as I am! And my friends, Lord, everybody's trimming the fat and cutting out the sweets. And not because we're dieting. I'm not a queen, just a ragamuffin diva, but I need you. Didn't you stand on a hill one day, a long time ago, speaking to the beat-up and bedraggled? People just like me? And what did you say to ease their minds?
Blessed are the poor in spirit.
What?!?!
That one's gonna have to bake a little longer. It's been a coupla thousand years now, and you know what? We're still trying to deal with the fact that you're talking about us! Who wants to be poor? And I'll tell you quite frankly, Lord, it isn't even about riches. We don't want great wealth. We want to get off of food stamps, and be okay enough that when we do we don't promptly wish we had them back. We want to take care of our families. We want to be able to keep our low-paying jobs -- plural -- and please, please, please can you help with that busted-up transmission?
I know you understand.
So, why is it so hard?
I don't know. And he doesn't say. So, back to the question. His awful question:
The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile." For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.
Prayer is not a pious instrument by which we move God to baptize our enterprises; it is entering the strength of him who moves history and binds the powers that be.
The people of Ohio won a big victory over the predatory payday lending industry this June when a new state law banned the sky-high interest rates that had trapped many poor Ohioans, as Tom Allio describes in the August issue of Sojourners. Below, Allio, who is chair of the coalition of faith-based consumer, labor, and human services groups that won the June law, describes the ongoing fight against the industry's attempts to reverse the law.
The payday lending industry is intent on rolling back the consumer-protection legislation promoted by the Ohio Coalition for Responsible Lending (OCRL), which was signed into law on June 2 by Gov. Ted Strickland. The industry is seeking two ballot initiatives for the November election. One would completely overturn H.B. 545. The second initiative would eliminate the central section of the bill, which prevents payday lenders from charging exorbitant interest rates -- rates that amount to an astounding 391 percent APR for the typical two-week loan.
And, as OCRL spokesman Bill Faith put it, "The industry is now using high-priced lawyers and misleading language to mask its efforts to legalize 391 percent interest." The misleading language is in the "summaries" of the referendums -- the words that payday lenders asked to use when gathering petition signatures to get their referendums onto November's ballot. The industry's wording, which was neither clear nor concise, omitted information about key consumer protections -- and did not even mention that both the referendums would repeal the 28 percent interest-rate cap that is the centerpiece of this June's anti-payday-lending law!
Under state law, summary language must be judged acceptable by Ohio Attorney General Nancy Rogers before the industry is allowed to begin circulating petitions. In June, Rogers rejected the proposed language of the first referendum because of its inaccuracy. Later, she rejected the industry's revised try at a "summary" because it was 17 pages long (only two pages shorter than the referendum itself).
The summary language for the second referendum petition has been approved, and the trade group for the industry has provided $850,000 for the Reject H.B. 545 Committee to assist in the hiring of the petition circulators and for other contracted services.
One thing remains clear in this ongoing "David and Goliath" battle in Ohio: The payday lending industry will do anything in its power to maintain its privileged, and predatory, position in the marketplace. Rumors are rampant that they are prepared to spend upwards of $15 million in this fight for their survival.
Tom Allio is chair of the Ohio Coalition for Responsible Lending and a board member of Sojourners.
At long last the wheels of Washington have rolled out a bill to address the housing crisis! On July 30, President Bush signed the Housing and Economy Recovery Act into law. Despite its imperfections, the bill establishes an important provision for extremely low-income Americans -- the National Affordable Housing Trust Fund (NHTF).
This fund will provide much-needed resources for rental housing from a percentage of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac's new business, thereby insulating the funding from the appropriations process in Congress. No less than 90 percent of the funds must be dedicated to "the production, preservation, rehabilitation, or operation of rental housing." NHTF is important for a couple of reasons. As Sheila Crowley notes, it is a part of the first housing production program to "specifically serve extremely low-income families since 1974." Second, the fund identifies and addresses the needs of the rental housing community, a community whose needs are often rendered invisible by narrowly defining the housing crisis as a homeownership crisis.
On a more sober note, the program will not be fully funded for extremely low-income families until 2010. Prior to that, many of NHTF's funds will offset the cost of loans extended by the Federal Housing Administration to struggling homeowners.
The establishment of the National Housing Trust Fund provides a victory for extremely low-income Americans and cause for Christians to rejoice. I, for one, will join the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops in celebrating.
Andrew Wilkes is a policy and organizing intern at Sojourners. He is currently pursuing a Masters of Divinity degree at Princeton Theological Seminary.
For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God - not the result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.
Last weekend in Australia, I had the opportunity to have a four-hour dinner conversation with Kevin Rudd, the new prime minister. I have written about Kevin as a new-style Labor political leader who talks openly about his faith in a secular country.
I asked him about the "apology" he made to the Aboriginal people of Australia as his first act of government. "It is the thing I am most proud of," he told me. Just days before, the newspapers all carried a front-page picture of Rudd and his cabinet ministers lined up on chairs in a meeting with Aboriginal elders at an Indigenous community in the Northern Territory (the heart of the Aboriginal homeland). They were there to discuss how to narrow the gap between the health and life expectancy, education, income, and a whole range of other key indicators between the white and Aboriginal populations of Australia.
During the day we met for dinner, Rudd had been on the Great Barrier Reef, inspecting the "bleaching" of the spectacular Australian treasure due to global warming. He told me that environmental protection and climate change were issues on which he wanted Australia to lead.
Rudd is a Catholic and the first time we had dinner a couple of years ago, he told me he had been a longtime reader of Sojourners and my books. He is indeed well-read theologically, and we had a very good discussion of Catholic social teaching, church history, spirituality, faith, and politics in both the U.S. and Australia, and the power of revival to spark social change -- the theme of my latest book.
He has a special fascination for and attraction to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian who helped lead the "confessing churches'" resistance to Hitler. I must confess how unusual and enjoyable it is to discuss Bonhoeffer with a prime minister; he has even written about the theologian in one of Australia's leading magazines -- an article that could easily have been in Sojourners. What most draws Rudd to Bonhoeffer, he writes in the article, was his insistence that the vocation of the church is to be "a voice for the voiceless" and "to speak truth to power." I've always thought there was no better description of the role of the church in the world.
I encouraged the young prime minister not to underestimate the influence of middle-sized countries, like Australia, in providing global leadership on some of the most important issues of our time. I heard Rudd's assessment of his first G8 meeting this spring, of the U.S. image in the world, of our presidential candidates whom he is eager to get to know better. Rudd is very committed to addressing global poverty and climate change, and to making Australia a leader on both.
We sat for several hours at a lovely outdoor restaurant up in Cairns, the tropical northeast corner of the country. Security was certainly much lighter than a similar meeting with a U.S. president is, and I enjoyed how ordinary people would come up with their children to meet the prime minister. Every time, the Australian head of state would extend his hand and a warm smile to say "Hi, I'm Kevin." Very nice indeed.
Jarrod McKenna's post on the 1968 Olympics witness/protest brought back memories of that event, and the impression it made on me. And there is a sequel to the story.
On October 3, 2006, Peter Norman died from a heart attack. John Carlos had this reaction: "Peter was a piece of my life. When I got the call, it knocked the wind out of me. I was his brother. He was my brother. That's all you have to know." Tommie Smith added, "It took inner power to do what he did, inner soul power. ... He was a man of solid beliefs, that's how I will remember Peter -- he was a humanitarian and a man of his word."
Over the years, the three men had stayed in touch with each other. Though stripped of their medals and criticized by the U.S. media, Carlos and Smith had returned home as heroes to the black community, while Peter Norman faced ostracism and hostility in Australia for his role in the protest.
Smith and Carlos traveled to Melbourne and were pallbearers at Norman's funeral. They also spoke about their friend there:
Smith described Norman as "a man who believed right could never be wrong" and told Norman's family: "Peter Norman's legacy is a rock. Stand on that rock." Smith concluded: "Peter shall always be my friend. The spirit shall prevail."
Carlos spoke of the hatred they knew would be directed at them. "Not every young white individual would have the gumption, the nerve, the backbone, to stand there. ... Go and tell your kids the story of Peter Norman."
The film McKenna notes, Salute, was directed by Norman's nephew Matt. This spring, Australia's Qantas airlines announced that the film will be shown on all flights to Beijing beginning in late July. The same news story also reported that:
Australian Olympic Committee spokesman Mike Tancred said despite an International Olympic Committee rule prohibiting any form of protest at the Games, Australian team guidelines had been redrafted to permit freedom of expression.
"The team will be able to express a point of view on human rights, Tibet and any other issue in media interviews and, for the first time ever, in blogs,'' he said.
A stand for human rights in the spirit of Peter Norman, John Carlos, and Tommie Smith will be needed in this year's Olympics. The Washington Post reported on Saturday:
The Olympic Games have become the occasion for a broad crackdown against dissidents, gadflies and malcontents this summer. Although human rights activists say they have no accurate estimate of how many people have been imprisoned, they believe the figure to be in the thousands. ... The repressive atmosphere has intensified in part because senior Communist Party officials seem to be just as determined to prevent embarrassing protests -- which could be televised -- as they are to avert terrorist attacks during the Olympics.
As you watch the Olympics this August, remember and tell your kids the story of Peter Norman, John Carlos, and Tommie Smith.
Duane Shank is issues and policy advisor at Sojourners.
All I'm trying to say is that whether we wear the label of Christian conservative or Christian liberal, what matters most is that we are Christian. The Bible reminds us that there is no male or female, Jew or gentile, bond or free, but in Christ we are all the same, sinners saved by grace.
What I've learned is that many of my liberal and conservative friends draw the line around issues of gay rights and abortion. But people in the church I attend disagree on these issues, and yet somehow are still able to worship God together on Sunday morning. To me that's evidence of the Holy Spirit -- that in spite of our disagreements, we all agree that God is worthy of our worship and deserving of our praise. Each of us is evidence that the gospel still works; if it didn't, we wouldn't gather together on Sunday mornings.
The bottom line is that as I travel the country visiting churches, talking about issues of justice, and organizing congregations, I don't hear these terms very often. I'm not sure where these labels come from or what relevance they have in advancing the work of the church. But I do know that most of the time I hear them being used, it's by the media, politicians, and religious organizations that seek to separate Christians into clearly defined groups to meet an institutional agenda around a given issue. Shouldn't we be seeking unity in the body of Christ, rather than entrenching ourselves in positions that distance us from each other? It's hard enough trying to do the work of ministry, so why should we expend so much energy defending ourselves against other Christians?
The harsh reality is that there are people outside the church waiting on us to show up. And when we don't show, many of them are giving up. My prayer is that we would be like Paul and say, "I press toward the mark of the high calling for which God has called me Heavenward through Christ Jesus."
What is the value of a Christianity in which Jesus is worshipped as Lord, but Christian discipleship--"the way of Jesus"--is regarded as largely irrelevant to life in the modern world?
Next Wednesday is the Feast of the Transfiguration. What that means is that next Wednesday is a major holy day for Christians like me who fall into what is commonly referred to as the "liturgical" category of the faith. That rather ponderous label is a sobriquet of sorts for those of us who are Anglicans or Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox and like to have history and the ancient traditions of the early church ever-present in, and informing of, our worship in the here and now.
By and large, our penchant for ceremony and antiquity makes for a more colorful form of Christian worship than is observed in non-liturgical services. It also makes for considerably more drama. It's the drama that makes my heart sing ... not only the drama of liturgical services, but also the fact that liturgical congregations are always inclined toward employing drama to enhance worship, deepen commitment, and increase their own experience and perception of the faith, as well as that of others.
For us, the Feast of the Transfiguration is one of the church's 12 Great Feast Days. That is, it's right on up there with the Nativity [Christmas] and the Feast of the Resurrection [Easter,] at least in religious terms, if not popular or cultural ones. It calls us to remember the apex or culminating event of Jesus' public life in which, on a mountaintop and in full view of Peter, James, and John, Jesus was transfigured into a radiance beyond their later description. Moses and Elijah were also present during the Transfiguration itself, one on either side of him; and even as the gathered apostles watched, a bright cloud overshadowed them and a voice, speaking from the cloud, said, "This is my son, the Beloved; and with him I am well pleased. Listen to him." From that moment on, the course of history was set and, in many ways, the church was born.
The Greek word used in the New Testament accounts of the events on the Mount of the Transfiguration is metamorphothe. While the ages have translated that word as transfigured, it actually comes closer to conveying something English can't quite convey. It wants to say something like "changed shape and beingness and allness into some other form thereof," or something equally awkward and wordy. What happened, in other words and in the fullest sense, was a "metamorphosis," which again is Greek and again has no really clear or felicitous analog in English.
That very impossibility of language, its very failure to convey some substances, its fractures and chips as a vessel for meaning have, over the years, come to be for me the central wonder of the Feast of the Transfiguration. Being convicted of something one can neither own nor ingest, articulate nor incarnate, is itself a glory beyond our grasping, whether we be ancient apostles or God's newest converts ... which says to me that the great truth of next Wednesday's Feast of the Transfiguration just may be that experiencing God always lies just beyond the reach of articulated theology, and never within it.
"God Is Love," inscribed on the tracksuit of the athlete who would become the second-fastest man alive, is what first caught the attention of Australian Olympic official Ray Weinberg in the early '60s. But it wouldn't be until Peter Norman participated in an act of holy mischief for human rights (which became known as the "Black Power Salute" of the '68 Mexico games) that this Australian would so publicly put 1 John 4:8 into practice with his African-American brothers.
Life magazine said it was one of the most influential images of the 20th century. Two African Americans and one white Australian took to the winner's dais and, motivated by their shared faith, all wore Olympic Project for Human Rights buttons while the black Americans raised their fists.
Gold medal-winner Tommie Smith and bronze medal-winner John Carlos approached Peter Norman after the race. They asked if the Australian believed in God, if he believed in human rights, and if he would join their witness. Norman explained to Carlos and Smith that he had been raised in the Salvation Army, where service to Christ was never separated from service to the poor and the hurting, that he understood the importance of their cause, and that he would be honored to join them.
Gold medal-winner Dr. Tommie Smith, in his book Silent Gesture, explains the symbols of their prophetic actions that call back to the faithful creativity and holy mischief of Hosea, Jeremiah, Amos, and Jesus himself in confronting the unredeemed "Powers":
Olympic Project for Human Rights button. "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere," said Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who was assassinated earlier that year. With that sentiment in mind, all three men wore Olympic Project for Human Rights buttons connecting the struggle of African Americans to those everywhere suffering for human rights.
No shoes. What is often missed is that both American athletes took to the podium with no shoes as a prophetic sign of the poverty and suffering of black people.
Black gloves. The gloves were not simply about people power (though certainly not less than that), but also about the cry for freedom to the God who hears and acts on the cries of the oppressed. Be it in Egypt many centuries ago or in China today.
Bowed heads. Smith writes that the bowed heads was a sign of prayer. The kind of dangerous prayer that longs for God's reign of justice, peace, and joy "on earth as it is in heaven."
The actions of all three men cost them dearly. As documented in Matt Norman's brilliant new film, Salute, Tommie Smith and John Carlos were kicked out of the athletes' village, suspended and banned from the Olympics. For the Australian Peter Norman, participating in the organised action cost him his athletic career and he was not chosen for the next Olympics despite being one of the fastest men in the world.
Just as Martin Luther King Jr. gave his life earlier in 1968, so these three men lived out the costly truth of the cross. As Dr. King put it,
There are some who still find the cross a stumbling block, others consider it foolishness, but I am more convinced than ever before that it is the power of God unto social and individual salvation.
As the Olympic Games in China draw closer let us remember the witness of these courageous athletes, what it cost them, and how important it is that we cheer on our athletes. Not simply cheer them on in their sporting events, but also in taking what often are unpopular Christ-like actions that prophetically call for the end of injustice. In doing so they witness to another world being possible. A world that reflects the verse that Peter Norman would wear on his tracksuits, that "God is Love" and that in Jesus this love has started to "flood the earth like the waters cover the seas."
It wasn't until I started working in the world of religion and politics with advocacy organizations on Capitol Hill that I ever heard anyone define Christians as liberal or conservative. These terms were not used in my church experience. But when I recall different experiences working in the church, I can see how some members of the churches where I worshiped then, where I worship now, and in congregations across the country, fit into these categories. I've found it difficult to determine which of these categories I fit into as a Christian. Am I liberal or am I conservative? More importantly, can the two co-exist in the church?
When I think about my passion for social justice, starting with the days when I, along with a group of church members, would go out every Wednesday night, feed the homeless, pass out the Daily Bread, talk with them, and invite them to worship, and how once a month we would conduct a worship service at the neighborhood homeless shelter and extend the invitation to accept Jesus and join the church, I'm not sure if these actions make me a liberal or a conservative. But I also remember the day I realized that surely there must be more to it than this. I began to ask, why are we always feeding and providing clothes to the same people month after month, and in some instances, year after year? Isn't there more we can do to change their situations? In general, I had assumed that something beyond their own control was keeping them in poverty and perhaps there were systems of oppression working against many of the people we came in contact with on the streets. I began to realize that just generosity, though necessary, wasn't going to bring about justice. When I look at it this way, I can hear colleagues of mine in the religious advocacy world saying, yep, you're a liberal all right.
But not so fast -- maybe I'm a conservative? Just last week, I was teaching Sunday school and the text was "blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Surely this text did not suppose that every person who is poor shall inherit the kingdom. There are people who are not "saved" who are poor, and even some very bad people who are poor.
As we discussed the possibility that Jesus meant something more spiritual than physical, that perhaps we are blessed and will inherit the kingdom when two things occur: First, we look at our spiritual condition without Christ and our inability to do anything to change it, and recognize our plight but realize that because of Christ's love for us, we are blessed because our sins will not be counted against us, and that's why we will inherit the kingdom of heaven. Second, when we look at the condition of the world: communities overcome by crime, drugs, gun violence, and other social ills, we as Christians can recognize the sinful nature of people committing these acts, and through our spiritual lens understand that systemic change is not going to come at the hands of the government, police, or job opportunities alone. (All of these will help the social conditions, but do nothing to change the spiritual conditions.) Deep down, what people need most is a relationship with a God who looks beyond their faults and sees their deepest needs. True changes occur from the inside out.
Maybe this perspective makes me a conservative. I'm not sure which label fits me best, but one thing I know beyond the shadow of a doubt: When we remove the layers of labels, like the grave clothes that confined Lazarus, we can look in the mirror and know in our hearts that we are Christians.
Because God does not expect blind obedience from God's children, Christians cannot even think of giving unconditional obedience to a worldly sovereignty.
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation, who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God.
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Christ Episcopal Church in Ponte Vedra, Florida, is the kind of church every pastor, rector, or preacher dreams of. It’s got children running about everywhere. It’s building yet another parking lot for reasons that are immediately obvious on any given weekend. It has a service on Saturday afternoon and another on Sunday afternoon in order to accommodate the folk who can’t come to one of the three traditional services or two contemporary ones that take place on Sunday. In addition, and more or less smished into the middle of all of this on Sunday mornings, there is a Rector’s Forum that takes care of direct instruction for adults in Christian living. Beyond all of that, the people have to be about as lively and animated as any group of folk gathered anywhere on a Sabbath morning. I know, because I was there eight weeks ago today, and I haven’t gotten over it yet.
Phyllis Tickle (www.phyllistickle.com) is the founding editor of the religion department of Publishers Weekly and author of The Words of Jesus: A Gospel of the Sayings of Our Lord and the forthcoming fall release, The Great Emergence: How Christianity Is Changing and Why.
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Jason and Vonetta Storbakken are cofounders of 
"Vote Out Poverty! Vote Out Poverty!" shouted the diverse group of clergy and faith leaders as they marched in downtown Cleveland, Ohio, at our ecumenical public witness event last October. That was the last time I saw Rep. Stephanie Tubbs Jones (D-Ohio) in person; she stood on the podium in the crisp October sunshine waiting for the crowd to arrive.
Rev. Virginia Lohmann Bauman is the Ohio field director for Sojourners
Coinciding with the visit of a dear friend who's spent the past few years working in Afghanistan for both development NGOs and (non-U.S.) government agencies, the DVD of Charlie Wilson's War recently arrived from Netflix. My friend recommends it. Also, I [heart] Philip Seymour Hoffman. And I can tolerate Tom Hanks in appropriate doses. But an 
Marcia Ford is the author of 
Brian McLaren is an author and speaker and serves as Sojourners' board chair.
Kim Bobo is the executive director of 
In her book, 
, Becky Garrison profiles 33 church leaders who are seeking to reach those for whom church is not in their vocabulary.
Leroy Barber is president of 
Eugene Cho, a second-generation Korean-American, is the founder and lead pastor of 
Andrew Wilkes is a policy and organizing intern at 
Janna Hunter-Bowman works for Mennonite Central Committee in Bogotá, Colombia, as the coordinator of the Documentation and Advocacy Program for 
It was only last month that Sydney newspaper The Herald Sun's 
I'm not much for talismans or religious tokens in the usual sense of those things. I wear around my neck every day of my life a chain with four emblems or medals on it. One is a Celtic cross given me on my 65th birthday by my favorite college chum from more than a half-century ago. One is the shield of the Episcopal Church, whose way of being Christian stole my heart away when I was 17 and has never let go of it or me in all the years since. One is a Jerusalem cross that Sam bought for me in the Old City in 2000 when we were there in conjunction with John Paul II's papal visit. And the fourth is one my number three daughter, Laura, bought for me in a little shop near the Cathedral in Canterbury when we were there for a meeting of The Canterbury Roundtable. She snuck away to buy what she had earlier seen me fingering with no small amount of desire.
Jin S. Kim is pastor of the 
Dr. Gareth Higgins is a writer and broadcaster from Belfast, Northern Ireland, who has worked as an academic and activist. He is the author of the insightful 
Dr. Valerie Elverton Dixon is an independent scholar who publishes lectures and essays at 
There's a great deal of conversation these days about the nature of human consciousness and, as a related issue, about the true definition of "human" and how it can be best described. There's so much such conversation, in fact, that it is essentially impossible (especially in my business, Lord knows) to avoid getting sucked into it, whether as an active participant or simply as a passive, and sometimes unwilling, hearer.
Allison Johnson is the policy and organizing assistant for Sojourners.
Virginia Mitchell and Charlton Breen of the Michigan Darfur Coalition (MDC) recently sat down for an interview with Dominic Maurice. Maurice is a former "Lost Boy" refugee from Sudan who has become a U.S. citizen and resides in Michigan. Last week, Maurice's friend, Lopez Lomong, was selected by Team USA to carry the American flag at the Olympic parade of nations in Beijing. 
Rev. Romal Tune is the CEO of 
Seth Naicker is an activist for justice and reconciliation from South Africa. He is currently studying and working at Bethel University, in St. Paul, Minnesota, as the program and projects director for the Office of Reconciliation Studies. He can be reached at 
One of the great recent joys of my life has been a thing called "Beer and Bible," which happens every other Tuesday night at a small neighborhood pub in Memphis called, appropriately enough, Kudzu's. Kudzu, our bar's namesake, is the South's most ubiquitous form of plant life. It vines its way over almost everything else in sight, giving a vitality and lushness to landscapes that by this time of year would otherwise be sere and faded in our extreme southern heat. Kudzu's, the pub, is a lot like kudzu the plant. It gives vitality and cool to a lot of landscapes that might otherwise have wilted from the heat or just from life in general.
Ben Sanders III received his Master of Divinity degree from Union Theological Seminary in New York City and is a Ph.D. student at the Iliff School of Theology and the University of Denver. His interests include liberation theologies, and the study of the theological and ethical implications of black religion, race, and racialization.
Sondra Shepley is the speaking events manager for Sojourners.
Jarrod McKenna's 
Next Wednesday is the Feast of the Transfiguration. What that means is that next Wednesday is a major holy day for Christians like me who fall into what is commonly referred to as the "liturgical" category of the faith. That rather ponderous label is a sobriquet of sorts for those of us who are Anglicans or Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox and like to have history and the ancient traditions of the early church ever-present in, and informing of, our worship in the here and now.
"God Is Love," inscribed on the tracksuit of the athlete who would become the second-fastest man alive, is what first caught the attention of Australian Olympic official Ray Weinberg in the early '60s. But it wouldn't be until Peter Norman participated in an act of holy mischief for human rights (which became known as the "Black Power Salute" of the '68 Mexico games) that this Australian would so publicly put 1 John 4:8 into practice with his African-American brothers.
