Calling down the thunder

In my book, there’s not much worse than talking down to somebody while masquerading as helping them.

This is especially true if you’re praying.

I mean, how insincere must you be to–after passing a condemning voice of judgment–say, “I’ll be praying that God opens your eyes.”

You just simultaneously slung mud on someone’s face since their eyes are clearly “not open,” and made yourself look oh so holy because you’re praying for said person’s soul. Sick.

I remember once I was at a meeting preparing for a conference we were holding. We were having some issues over how we were going to actually lead the small group sessions, one person, we’ll call him ‘A,’ suggested we do mock groups. Two people, ‘B’ and ‘C,’ adamantly said we just pray about it and be done with it. They argued it’s about our heart, about leaving things in God’s hands. ‘A’ said yes, but we should also take steps of our own to prepare. I’d say they should’ve just started yelling at each other. That would have been better.

But no, they decided to be super implicit about it. That if ‘A’ really had faith he’d just let it go and pray. You could feel everyone else in the room rustling and unsure of whether or not to step in. Then ‘A,’ surprisingly, had the guts to defend himself. You would have thought they would have jumped up and just got into a brawl. That also would have been better. At least they would have admitted their issues.

But no, the group decided to pray and end the meeting. And of course, ‘B’ and ‘C’ raised their hands like the good poster children they just created for everyone to see.

And they prayed that God would show everyone what was really important, that we wouldn’t worry about the things ‘A’ worried about. Well, maybe they didn’t mention ‘A’ by name, but they might as well have.

I wanted to get up and leave. I think if I was in that situation today, I probably would.

It’s dishonest. And to do it in the name of prayer, I don’t even know what to call that.

Them Flaming Charismatics

Every once in a while it’s fun to wander into religious territory and spout off a few words. I read something today that got me thinking about charismatic Christians. I’m slightly disappointed that this sect has chosen to use the word ‘charismatic’, just because it co-opts what is generally a lovable and also attractive adjective to use. Who doesn’t want to be known as charismatic? Well, when talking about religion, quite a few people I gather.

When I first went to college, I’d argue I had a pretty open mind towards the whole thing. I’d heard about it, seen other people laugh about completely off the mark prophecies, and watched others snicker about falling onto the ground. Still, it was hearsay, and I didn’t pass much judgment. So when I first ran into some charismatics, I honestly was a bit excited. It was like a benign curiosity.

I suppose the problem was, the first handful of people I met who were ardent followers to these ideas, were less than your ideal poster child and if they were marketers I would have them fired. Kind of like how sometimes you botch your first meeting with a potential-significant-other-you-have-a-crush-on and forever leave a stained impression, people either alienated me completely (and showed no interest in explaining themselves), were full of their actions, or flat out drew swords at the mere mention of doubt to what they were doing. They also sung the same songs over and over again.

My curiosity ran away and I don’t see it coming back.

I don’t deny the existence of what charismatics claim exists. I know stories–of personal friends, not those about a friend of a friend of a friend–who have had wonders done before their very  eyes, if not being the subject themselves.

For myself, I feel I’m just indifferent. It’s nice, and I don’t have much more to say about its relevance to me. I hope I’m a charismatic guy. But that’s the only instance I’d use the word to ever describe myself. I never liked labels anyway.

In the end, I guess I’m just, not that interested. Which is more than what I can say for the other end of the spectrum…

Dehumanizer

You know what’s the best way to train a soldier? Drill into his head the fact that his enemy, is just that–an enemy; not a living, breathing human with a backstory, relationships and dreams.

You also want to know what’s the best way to feel good about putting a murderer in the chamber or on the chair? Tell yourself, and everyone else that he’s a cold-blooded killer.

The best way to rile up morale against those who want to have an abortion? Tell the world that they are nothing more than baby killers.

The best way to deal with people with that strange attraction towards others of the same sex? Call them names.

How about the best way to dismiss someone else’s choice for president? Explain away that said person is a liberal. Or a conservative. Or tag them with whatever social consciousness you want to group them with.

You want to know what’s the best way to deal with a living, breathing, tied to family members and friends, person with a unique set of beliefs that simply don’t align with yours?

Box them in. Make them concrete. Tag them with names.

Make them the enemy. They might as well not be people anyway.

On Reading Bibles, Again

A little update on this post.

In a Bible study the other night–in Chinese by the way–a woman asked me to read a passage again in English, since I was the one with the English Bible and needed it because written Chinese is impossible difficult. And after I did, she decided to explain herself: she felt that only in the English translation could we accurately interpret what was being said; it was more direct, more concise, and the words were very clear.

I suppose good thing most everyone in Taiwan has some grasp of English.

In other words, here was this lady that went out a limb to declare to everyone, the Bible in our own language isn’t capable of giving us the full, complate 100%  picture, so let’s use another language to help fill in the blanks.

Let’s assume this is true. Is it then possible, that the Bible in English is equally incapable of transmitting certain ideas, therefore causing us to lose bits and pieces of “the big picture?” Naturally, this leads us to the next question.

What about the other hundreds of languages on this planet?

We Don’t Read the Same Bible

I don’t mean to be sensationalist, but it’s something I found, maybe not shocking, but definitely eye-cathing.

I was flipping through a Chinese Bible the other day and noticed, the paragraph titles are different–and not just different, sometimes they’re not even in the same places.

In other words, when printing the thing, someone actually felt that certain passages had more relevance to what came before than what came after, in contrast to another editor.

I don’t mean to make mountains of mole hills; this really isn’t that big of a deal nor does it change much. But it does raise some interesting questions about the inerrantness about the interpretations of the Bible with regards to translation and language. I’m not suggesting that the Bible isn’t perfect, or that it isn’t factually reliable; still, I think it’s a reminder of how different people all across the world are and how they all differently view the same thing.

I think it’s one thing to hold up a Bible and boldly proclaim, “There are no errors in this book,” and another completely to say, “the Bible as it was written has no errors.” If you believe the Bible, which phrase are you going to be using?

Daily Routines

I was thinking the other day if, as a Christian, I need to be reading the Bible everyday. Or at all. And by need, I mean, you have to or else you’re clearly not a Christian.

Silly question, really. If you had to do something or forfeit your “Christian”-ness that would defeat the point. But then I wondered, why do people encourage (read: borderline guilt trip / force) you to read the Bible?

I suppose it’s like watching the state of your body. You don’t have to worry about your health. You don’t need to exercise. You don’t need to watch what you eat. None of those things will mean some mysterious power will show up at your door and revoke your right to breathe.

But if you want to live a better life, you probably should want to keep your body healthy, and to do that, you have to do any or all of the above things.

How much you want to do any of those things is of course everyone’s own choice.

“A Christian Mistake”

I have a lot on my mind, but this article by Jim Wallis, covers a few thoughts of mine more coherently and with more punch. I added the bold part at the end. More from me later.

***

In ominous red and black, last week’s Newsweek cover carried the headline, “The Decline and Fall of Christian America.” The magazine’s cover story by editor Jon Meacham provoked a wide array of reactions from across the spectrum. Whether Meacham is ultimately correct in his observance of these trends and his interpretation of their meaning is yet to be seen. The 1966 Time magazine cover that asked “Is God Dead?” could not have foreseen the development of religion in American public life over the past 40 years, and we shouldn’t expect any more from Newsweek. What the latter cover has accomplished is to raise questions vital to both the health of the Christian tradition and for the public discourse of our nation.

The question that struck me and the one I began to address in a short piece for Newsweek was that of the role of religion in public life and politics. Here’s what I had to say:

The Religious Right was a Christian mistake. It was a movement that sought to implement a “Christian agenda” by tying the faithful to one political option — the right wing of the Republican Party. The politicizing of faith in such a partisan way is always a theological mistake. But the rapid decline of the Religious Right now offers us a new opportunity to re-think the role of faith in American public life.

Personally, I am not offended or alarmed by the notion of a post-Christian America. Christianity was originally and, in my view, always meant to be a minority faith with a counter-cultural stance, as opposed to the dominant cultural and political force. Notions of a “Christian America” quite frankly haven’t turned out very well.

But that doesn’t mean a lack of religious influence — on the contrary. Committed minorities have had a tremendous influence on cultures and even on politics. Just look at all the faith-inspired social-reform movements animated by people of faith. But Martin Luther King Jr. did not get the Civil Rights Act passed because he had the most Bible verses on his side but because he entered into the public square with compelling arguments, vision, and policy that ultimately won the day. Those faith-inspired movements are disciplined by democracy, meaning they don’t expect to win just because they are “Christian.” They have to win the debates about what is best for the common good by convincing their fellow citizens.

And that is best done by shaping the values narrative, as opposed to converting everyone to their particular brand of religion. Rather, they are always looking for allies around their moral causes, including people of other faiths or of no religion. The story of Christianity in America in the coming decades will be defined by a multicultural shift as well as a generational one. “New” evangelicals and Catholics, along with black, Hispanic, and Asian churches will now shape the agenda. But also included are the millions of Americans who say they are “spiritual but not religious,” finding homes in non-traditional churches, mega-churches that teach that true religion is found in care for “the least of these.” Making a real impact on the values and directions that a democracy will choose is, perhaps, a more exciting kind of influence than relying on the illusory and often disappointing hopes of cultural and political dominance.

Barack Obama stirred the pot around this exact question recently with his comment at a press conference in Turkey that “we do not consider ourselves a Christian nation.” This statement is not a new one for Obama. He expressed it clearly during a 2006 speech to a Sojourners/Call to Renewal conference. He explained his position this way:

Democracy demands that the religiously motivated translate their concerns into universal, rather than religion-specific, values. It requires that their proposals be subject to argument, and amenable to reason. I may be opposed to abortion for religious reasons, but if I seek to pass a law banning the practice, I cannot simply point to the teachings of my church or evoke God’s will. I have to explain why abortion violates some principle that is accessible to people of all faiths, including those with no faith at all.

Now this is going to be difficult for some who believe in the inerrancy of the Bible, as many evangelicals do. But in a pluralistic democracy, we have no choice. Politics depends on our ability to persuade each other of common aims based on a common reality. It involves the compromise, the art of what’s possible. At some fundamental level, religion does not allow for compromise. It’s the art of the impossible. If God has spoken, then followers are expected to live up to God’s edicts, regardless of the consequences. To base one’s life on such uncompromising commitments may be sublime, but to base our policy making on such commitments would be a dangerous thing.