Saturday, April 25, 2009

Thoughts on Homosexuality, Christianity, and the like

Last Friday, I took part in the Day of Silence on campus, and during the debriefing session, we were asked by the administration not to serve communion. They gave some cover reason that really didn't make much sense, unless of course they were trying to make everyone happy by washing their hands of the gay community. I have, and have had, an immense amount of respect for Dr. Neuhouser for unashamedly supporting Haven and furthering the conversation about homosexuality and Christianity.
Then, later that night, I went to XY, basically a "Let's Talk About Sex" for guys (which has been a long time coming, by the way). The speakers were Shawn "Papa Shawn" Whitney, student counselor and former Hill RLC, and Dr. Rick Steele, professor of Theology and the man who told me I ticked him off by sleeping too much in his class. During the question and answer time, there was a question (submitted anonymously) along the lines of, "I am a gay Christian, and I want out. How do I rid myself of this, and am I destined to a life of celibacy?" Both speakers were initially just silent - which I appreciated, as a kneejerk reaction of "go to an ex-gay clinic" isn't terribly helpful, in my opinion. And then Dr. Steele took the card, read it over again, asked for clarification, let out a long, pained, struggling sigh, and said, highly, powerfully emotional yet very firm, this (as best I can remember):
What we can't do is make the Bible say that homosexuality is OK. I've seen it, it's crap exegesis. But what I can say, is that when I see a homosexual couple that is wholly loving, committed, and in every way, except perhaps the physical aspect, the very picture of a holy and godly relationship, and then there is a heterosexual couple that is screwing up their relationship, and screwing anyone they can, the idea that the homosexual couple is somehow less of a couple than the heterosexual couple is absurd, and hurtful, and wrong. Which plugs go in which holes is not nearly as important as the relationship, the devotion, the commitment.
As far as I could tell, I was the only one that Amened his answer, but in that moment, Dr. Steele gained so incredibly much respect in my eyes. It was obvious that this was not something he took lightly, not something he had a quick answer for, something that he had thought, studied, prayed, and struggled over intensely. It wasn't a pat, surface "love the sinner, hate the sin", "accepting of the person but not affirming the lifestyle" easy answer that either only makes those who have already otherized the LGBTQ community happy, or doesn't fully answer the question, depending on who is saying it. This answer was the raw, real, powerful, and genuine result of a man who knows what he's talking about really wrestling with the issue. He then went off on a tangent discussing celibacy, and that it is not necessarily the cursed life that it is assumed to be, but only if you are called to it - which he has no way of knowing one way or the other, after which a former homosexual (is that a PC enough term for ex-gay?) went ballistic, making sure that we all knew that HOMOSEXUALITY WAS DIRECTLY FROM SATAN, AND IT IS AN ABOMINATION, AND A PERVERSION, UTTER PERVERSION AND FILTH AND PERVERSION and then went on to shout about how in High School, he had lustful desires for men, and just had sex all over the place, men, women, anyone he could, just sex all over the place, lust lust lust...and it hurt my heart. As he kept preaching, it became clear that his perversion was not (primarily?) homosexuality - it was lust. Pure, unbridled lust. Which is destructive, and a perversion, and hurtful. But the fact that he bludgeoned everyone over the head with his personal struggles with lust, after Dr. Steele had so carefully, lovingly, truthfully and insightfully poured out his soul on the quite separate issue of homosexuality, made my heart sink. It didn't even make me angry - it just made me deeply sad. One careful step forward, and then we go tumbling back down the hill.
This reactionary, angry, shouting, otherizing approach to homosexuality is deeply harmful, and I have severe doubts that it will ever solve anything. Yes, I'm sure that guy has a very personal, convicting, deep story that I'm trampling all over, and I'm not thinking of his feelings. But the post that inspired me today, over on pastor Eugene Cho's blog, has a couple tragic, convicting, deep stories to consider for anyone who dares use the heartstring defense against the LGBTQ community, or dares to raise up anger against the evildoers. And I refuse to play that game - I am emphatic that emotional appeals aren't effective in actually solving anything, and there is just as much emotional charge on one side as the other. The facts are that the appalling suicide rates, homeless rates, and dropout rates of LGBTQ youth is a rousing sign that we as a nation are sorely in need of a fresh set of eyes on the matter. We are urgently in need of reconciliation - a word that SPU is strangely fond of, considering their response to Haven. It's all well and good until it comes against the massive hatred and fear of the LGBTQ community among Christians, and then it all falls apart. And really, I can't blame the administration too much - they rely on this community for donations to keep this school going, to send students their way, and it probably would be suicidal to be more openly approving of the LGBTQ community. That sucks, and it's wrong, but it's the reality. Because change doesn't happen from the top down. It never has, and it never will. It starts with hearts, and gradually works its way up. And that is where I am hopeful. Because people like Dr. Neuhouser, Dr. Steele, everyone who participated in the Day of Silence, and the many students on campus that support Haven, are thinking, praying, wrestling, and most importantly, changing hearts. We will get there, I truly believe. It will take a while, it may even take a whole new generation of open hearts. But I am hopeful.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Go Iowa!

The other day, my girlfriend was reading for one of her classes about Brazil, where they have several tiers of marriage, and religious marriage is left up to the religious organizations, and the government just deals with civil marriages. Call me a crazy liberal, brainwashed by living in Seattle for these three years, but this is my ideal system for the US - one where the government doesn't have anything to do with marriage, and people can get married if they want, in a religious organization, without any legal implications. This sort of exists in the US with civil unions, but it's far from actually implemented, and there is still a huge stigma to civil unions. I know Brazil doesn't allow gay civil unioning, but the system would allow for it in the US.
Then today, I was reading through an an opinion piece about an over-the-top cheesy anti-gay ad, and it alluded to the actual filing from the Iowa decision to allow gay marriage. It included this section, written by judge Mark S. Cady, evidently a Republican nominee:

I. Religious Opposition to Same-Sex Marriage. Now that we have addressed and rejected each specific interest advanced by the County to justify the classification drawn under the statute, we consider the reason for the exclusion of gay and lesbian couples from civil marriage left unspoken by the County: religious opposition to same-sex marriage. The County’s silence reflects, we believe, its understanding this reason cannot, under our Iowa Constitution, be used to justify a ban on same-sex marriage.
While unexpressed, religious sentiment most likely motivates many, if not most, opponents of same-sex civil marriage and perhaps even shapes the views of those people who may accept gay and lesbian unions but find the notion of same-sex marriage unsettling. Consequently, we address the religious undercurrent propelling the same-sex marriage debate as a means to fully explain our rationale for rejecting the dual-gender requirement of the marriage statute.
It is quite understandable that religiously motivated opposition to same-sex civil marriage shapes the basis for legal opposition to same-sex marriage, even if only indirectly. Religious objections to same-sex marriage are supported by thousands of years of tradition and biblical interpretation. The belief that the “sanctity of marriage” would be undermined by the inclusion of gay and lesbian couples bears a striking conceptual resemblance to the expressed secular rationale for maintaining the tradition of marriage as a union between dual-gender couples, but better identifies the source of the opposition. Whether expressly or impliedly, much of society rejects same-sex marriage due to sincere, deeply ingrained— even fundamental—religious belief.
Yet, such views are not the only religious views of marriage. As demonstrated by amicus groups, other equally sincere groups and people in a survey in the Des Moines Register in 2008 found 28.1% of individuals surveyed supported same-sex marriage, 2% opposed same-sex marriage but supported civil unions, and thirty-two percent of respondents opposed both same-sex marriage and civil unions. The Des Moines Register survey is consistent with a national survey by the PEW Research Center in 2003. This PEW survey found that fifty-nine percent of Americans oppose same-sex marriage, and thirty-two percent favor same-sex marriage. However, opposition to same-sex marriage jumped to eighty percent for people “with a high level of religious commitment,” with only twelve percent of such people in favor of same-sex marriage. Iowa and around the nation have strong religious views that yield the opposite conclusion.
This contrast of opinions in our society largely explains the absence of any religion-based rationale to test the constitutionality of Iowa’s same-sex marriage ban. Our constitution does not permit any branch of government to resolve these types of religious debates and entrusts to courts the task of ensuring government avoids them. See Iowa Const. art. I, § 3 (“The general assembly shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion . . . .”). The statute at issue in this case does not prescribe a definition of marriage for religious institutions. Instead, the statute declares, “Marriage is a civil contract” and then regulates that civil contract. Iowa Code § 595A.1. Thus, in pursuing our task in this case, we proceed as civil judges, far removed from the theological debate of religious clerics, and focus only on the concept of civil marriage and the state licensing system that identifies a limited class of persons entitled to secular rights and benefits associated with civil marriage.
We, of course, have a constitutional mandate to protect the free exercise of religion in Iowa, which includes the freedom of a religious organization to define marriages it solemnizes as unions between a man and a woman. See Iowa Const. art. I, § 3 (“The general assembly shall make no law . . . prohibiting the free exercise [of religion] . . . .”). This mission to protect religious freedom is consistent with our task to prevent government from endorsing any religious view. State government can have no religious views, either directly or indirectly, expressed through its legislation. [Knowlton v. Baumhover, 182 Iowa 691, 710, 166 N.W. 202, 208 (1918)]. This proposition is the essence of the separation of church and state. As a result, civil marriage must be judged under our constitutional standards of equal protection and not under religious doctrines or the religious views of individuals. This approach does not disrespect or denigrate the religious views of many Iowans who may strongly believe in marriage as a dual-gender union, but considers, as we must, only the constitutional rights of all people, as expressed by the promise of equal protection for all. We are not permitted to do less and would damage our constitution immeasurably by trying to do more.
The only legitimate inquiry we can make is whether [the statute] is constitutional. If it is not, its virtues . . . cannot save it; if it is, its faults cannot be invoked to accomplish its destruction. If the provisions of the Constitution be not upheld when they pinch as well as when they comfort, they may as well be abandoned.
In the final analysis, we give respect to the views of all Iowans on the issue of same-sex marriage—religious or otherwise—by giving respect to our constitutional principles. These principles require that the state recognize both opposite-sex and same-sex civil marriage. Religious doctrine and views contrary to this principle of law are unaffected, and people can continue to associate with the religion that best reflects their views. A religious denomination can still define marriage as a union between a man and a woman, and a marriage ceremony performed by a minister, priest, rabbi, or other person ordained or designated as a leader of the person’s religious faith does not lose its meaning as a sacrament or other religious institution. The sanctity of all religious marriages celebrated in the future will have the same meaning as those celebrated in the past. The only difference is civil marriage will now take on a new meaning that reflects a more complete understanding of equal protection of the law. This result is what our constitution requires.

All I can say is, wow. That is one powerful piece of writing, coming from a state on the fringes of the Bible belt. No east or west coast crazies involved here, this is coming the heart of the country. And it is long overdue.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Tradition Sucks.

"Hey, when I showed up, I didn't go about using big words or religious terminology. I didn't pretend to be more educated or have special insight when I told you about my experience with God. It was my goal to know of nothing except Jesus Christ, crucified, when I was with you guys. I was weak and afraid. Very afraid. My thoughts, my message weren't from a high vernacular, not set in persuasion or wisdom. They were a demonstration of the Holy Spirit's raw power, so that you can have faith because of God and his power, not me or any other man."
--1 Corinthians 2:1-5, paraphrased

Just so you know that I'm not completely off my rocker with my (admittely biased) paraphrasing, here's the NIV:
"When I came to you, brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. I came to you in weakness and fear, and with much trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit's power, so that your faith might not rest on men's wisdom, but on God's power."

I finally am reading the rest of Pagan Christianity, and will move immediately onto Reimagining Church after this. It's a good sign when books like this have you straight up read some scripture, and this one stood out to me. A few choice quotes from this chapter, with my thoughts: "The sermon creates an excessive and pathological dependence on the clergy. The semon make the preacher the religious specialist—the only one having anything worthy to say. Everyone else is treated as a second-class Christian—a silent pew warmer. (While this is not usually voiced, it is the unspoken reality.)"
Not only is that a doozy of a first sentence ("excessive and pathological dependence"), it's a good one. I find, as I read this and as I consider my experience on my own, that that last parenthetical phrase is anything but unimportant. It instead describes the church I know all to often. "Bad" things are often not voiced, or even vocally denied or condemned, but in reality are all too true and present. Things like this class system, the idea that the pastor is above everyone and the focus of Christianity (have you ever seen a church? The chapter on architecture was fascinating), the concept of love the sinner, hate the sin, the idea that works are a necessary result of "faith", the ridiculous obsession with wealth and prosperity. But those are getting into other issues. Back to the topic at hand:
"It [the sermon] has become so entrenched in the Christian mind that most Bible-believing pastors and laymen fail to see that they are affirming and perpetuating an unscriptural practice out of sheer tradition. The sermon has become permanently embedded in a complex organizational structure that is far removed from first-century church life." And a quote from David C. Norrington, author of To Preach or Not to Preach: "The sermon is, in practice, beyond criticism. It has become an end in itself, sacred—the product of a distorted reverence for 'the tradition of the elders'...it seems strangely inconsistent that those who are most disposed to claim that the Bible is the Word of God, the 'supreme guide in all matters of faith and practice' are amongst the first to reject biblical methods in favor of the 'broken cisterns' of their fathers (Jeremiah 2:13)."

The power of tradition is intimidating, and overwhelming. It is not always bad, but can often perpetuate bad practice. Tradition is the only reason that a majority of Christians (by my estimation, anyway) will tell you that people laughed at Noah, there was no rain before the flood, there were three wise men that showed up when Jesus was born, and Jesus had a whip when he chased the sellers out of the temple. None of these have the slightest shred, however, of Scriptural evidence. It is also the reason that some churches (like mine) have sacred communion tables, polyester choir robes, and yes, the sacred sermon (which every church that I've been to has). And it's not a good reason. There are many reasons that the sermon as it stands is a bad idea. And you should read Pagan Christianity. Because it's really, really good.

Monday, March 2, 2009

I Hate All Your Show

I was catching up on my feeds, when I came across this post over at the Holy Heteroclite, which is a re-post of part of a post elsewhere, which I will in turn partially reproduce here. It's a list of vocabulary that doesn't mean what it used to:
WORDMISUSEUSED TO MEAN
churchbuilding, organizationgathering of friends
worshipreligious concert & lecturea life poured out, as a sacrifice
savedguilt free passsalvaged and put back to hard work
truthproposition, world viewa person--Jesus
christianreligious conservativeone who loves & suffers like Jesus
preachreligious lectureannounce on the street
ministryprofessional religious programserving like a slave
apostlespiritual superstarexpendable messenger
prophetdead, lacking diplomacylistens to God
pastorreligious CEOsmelly sheep tender
lovefeeling or moodsacrificial, tender care acted out
Too often a very accurate list, that I have seen in action.

Additionally, in following some links, I rediscovered Jon Foreman's song, "I Hate All Your Show" - there's a post with lyrics and a video elsewhere, I won't repeat it here. But it is an excellent song - check it out and ponder it.

I know constantly and exclusively saying what's wrong with the church and Christians isn't the way to fix things, and is easy to do. But whatever my faith ends up looking like, it will hopefully be one of doing, being, and relationships. And, most difficult for someone with pride issues like me, humility and subservience. We'll see how that goes.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Instant gratification, Christianity, America, and kids, the last of which screws everything up.

So, I'm reading about the traditional Creationist view of instant, exclusively-God origins versus the theistic evolution view of gradual, God-initiated origins. The author is a theistic evolutionist (my term, not his, I'm generalizing here), and he was talking about how the introduction of the "human element" (perhaps the "soul" if you will) that enables mankind to use language and indulge in religious practices among other things was a gradual process, which subtly grates against the idea that we are specially designed by God to be unique and especially in God's image. It's not an absolute contradiction, but there is some discomfort.

Also, this was going to be a shorter post, because I'm doing my UScholars reading for tomorrow, it's almost 5am, and I work in three hours. But now I probably just won't sleep...anyway, that's beside the point.

I got to thinking about this gradual vs instant thing, and realized that this "instant gratification" creation that I grew up with was similar to another element of theology that I grew up with - "instant gratification" salvation. This is the idea of the sinner's prayer - that you're not a Christian until you say it, and once you say it, you're in. If you press hard enough, it becomes more elaborate, and it ends up being less black and white, but regardless, that's what I gleaned from my spiritual upbringing, since I didn't ask too many questions before I left home, for reasons far too numerous and loaded for this note. If you haven't read my other notes, and are confused or have questions, read them, or my snazzy new blog, which has them all nicely gathered. Anyway, the comfort in this black/white view, and the reason it's so prevalent, I think, is that it's easy - you don't have to worry about whether you're going to heaven or not, there's no uncertainty - you're either in or out. And as a bonus, it's really easy to get in - all you have to do is say the right words. Basically, as long as you involve Jesus, the fact that you're a sinner, and repentance, you're good.

Except if you don't really mean it. Or you're too young to understand fully. Or is that covered under some underage clause? And if it is, do you have to re-commit once you're old enough? Or does it just kind of transfer over?
What if you say it when you're four in the guest bedroom, following after your father so you can get to heaven, and then never actually follow up later in life?
What if you do follow up later in life, but realize that you're not entirely hunky-dory with everything you were raised with, and so you don't explicitly re-commit the same way?
Are you still in?
Do you get to go to heaven?
Or are you going to burn in hell for eternity?
And what's with this intense focus on heaven and hell, anyway? Isn't Christianity about more than some giant, supernatural Admiral's Club?

As you can tell, this is something I've struggled with, pretty hard. For more on that, again see my other notes (or, again, my blog). Strangely enough, though, I have largely settled on a more gradual, evolutionary, if you will, kind of salvation. That you're judged not on where you are on a journey, but where you're headed - not on whether or not you've crossed some fairly arbitrary line. Spiritual growth is not linear. The idea that it's a black and white, in-or-out scenario just doesn't sit well with me. That may seem like a cop-out, but I don't see any resolution unless you just don't ask questions, which just isn't an option for me. I think the seeming cop-out is a result of a misplaced focus on heaven and hell, as I alluded to earlier, and a result of a larger, more general tendency to want this instant-gratification spirituality.

It shows up in young-earth Creationism, salvation, churchgoing, Biblical literalism, and all kinds of places in the faith that I cobbled together during my first 18 years. Which makes sense, seeing as how I grew up in America, which is a very instant-gratification society.

But I don't think it's that easy. The Bible came way before we had any significant idea of how the world we live in came to be, and most of it was written thousands of years before modern science was even a twinkle in Francis Bacon's eye. Salvation, under much scrutiny, isn't a simple in/out affair. A lot of these things are not explicitly said (although some are), and some are even specifically contested (going to church doesn't make you a Christian), but they are nonetheless prevalent in mainstream American Christianity.

I think this is because Americans are lazy. Christianity does as much for you as you put into it, I would argue - not in a literal works sense, but in the sense that if I just, say, go to church, show up to youth group, memorize some scripture and the right answers to all the questions, sing some songs, go on missions, and believe what everyone tells me, It's not going to do a damn thing.

Sidenote for those who are shocked and/or offended: I considered stronger phrases, but settled on that. Swearing is another thing that I've come to see as less black and white. Swearing up and down, just because you stubbed your toe, or because you are late to work, is dumb, and rude. If used very sparingly, however, it can then indicate intense passion and emphasis about things you really care about. Using big words instead just seems to pretentious to me, and using a thesaurus doesn't make you intelligent. I use language *extremely* sparingly, because there are few things that I am *extremely* passionate about, and I don't want to dilute their power of emphasis by using them for lesser things, like a lot of people do. This, however, is one of the few worthy subjects.

Anyway...in case you didn't get my drift, that's pretty much what I did. And it gave me a fantastic moral foundation and a pretty good starting point, but it could have been so much more, and it wasn't. Additionally, I now have to sort through 18 years of accumulated theology to figure out what is actually essential, what is negotiable, and what is unnecessary. Because with everything I've been told spiritually in the past, there is no way that it is 100% rock-solid, necessary theology.

It's a sad statement that I was able to, as a preacher's kid, even, make it through my childhood on cruise control theologically and spiritually. It is largely my fault, but my job was made a lot easier by the fact that in America particularly (the rest of the Western world to a lesser degree), "Christianity" is easy. Really easy. Like, braindead simple. It's arguable that you would have to almost make an effort to not be a "Christian."

Now, is everyone who calls himself a Christian really a Christian? Most assuredly not. 84% (or whatever statistic you quote) of people in America claim to be Christian, but far, far less than that are active Christians. I don't think I would even categorize myself in the latter category, at this point, or any other in my life.

So what is my point? What is the solution? Should Christianity be harder?

Yes. I think so. Christianity should be hard. It should be intellectually challenging, emotionally challenging, and spiritually challenging. Now for some devil's advocate Q&A that I've done for myself, that might mitigate some kickback, or at least explain where I'm coming from:

Q: Wouldn't that result in less Christians?
A: Most definitely.

Q: Is that a bad thing?
A: No. It would get rid of the massive amounts of chaff that show up in church on Sundays and don't do much else. And before you get all up in my grill about calling anyone chaff, I'm not. Whether you're chaff or not isn't my call.

Q: But what about those people who do become Christians simply by going to church? Wouldn't they just be "chaff" and never become Christians?
A: This isn't an easy one, but it's helpful to do a miniature paradigm shift. I like to think that people become Christians by seeing and witnessing other Christians in real life, and are then educated and ministered to by church. Church should not, in my opinion, be an evangelism center. For those that need it, there are rallies, Billy Graham style. But the way that people become Christians should be through existing Christians, living their lives, and sharing their joy. Church does not necessarily a Christian make, and, I think, is hard-pressed to a Christian make alone.
Now, I've heard tell of people becoming devout Christians because someone told them they were going to Hell. I'm sure there are devout Christians who started out just going to church. I would like to think that if there were more sincere Christians and less chaff Christians, those people would find Christianity without church. If not, then those are very different people than I am, and I don't pretend to understand them.

Q: But wouldn't it still result in a net loss of "real" Christians, if there was less of the Christian atmosphere?
A: Maybe, maybe not. Firstly, if you define "real" Christians as "people that are going to heaven," you're missing my point. I bet there will be people not in Heaven that a lot of people think should be, and probably people in Heaven that a lot of people think shouldn't be. The point being, Christians as whole, I think, would be more devout and less hypocritical. They would drive less people away, but also bring less people in. But of these less people, a much larger portion would actually be legitimate Christians. So where do the numbers land? I don't know. And I don't really care. Christianity shouldn't be a numbers game, and trying to make in into one royally screws everything up.

I think that's about all the Q/As that I can think of at the moment.

Now a quick rejoinder: all this is great for adults, but kids throw a huge wrench into the works. As having kids becomes less of a nebulous, distant event, and more of a palatable, possible happening, I've been considering how in the world I'm going to raise them. And although I've done a lot of thinking, and settled a good bit for myself, I haven't a clue how I'm going to raise my kids. I want them to have a strong moral foundation like I did, but don't want them to be able to coast like I did. How does one do that? Go to church yourselves, and start bringing them when they start asking questions? Raise them in the church and make them ask questions? Say to heck with it, and hope they figure it out? I haven't the foggiest. And as I've mentioned before, I'm grateful for the way my parents raised me - it's working out in the end, and it definitely gave me a good start. But if possible, I want to avoid the late start. The typical thought is that kids just can't understand such things until they're old, so you have to spoon-feed them until they're "old enough." But why, when we stop spoon-feeding them food, can't we stop spoon-feeding them theology? What is "old enough" anyway? Does spoon-feeding them long-term mess things up down the road, when you stop? Is the lack of understanding because of nature - the inherent capabilities of kids, or is it a circular nurture thing - because we spoon-feed them, they can't understand?

I don't know.

And I won't, until I'm a parent, and even then, I probably won't know until after I've gone too far to change course.

Being a parent sounds really, really hard, and I've heard it's a thankless job.

So to my parents: Thank you. Immensely, and truly. I know you did your best, and I appreciate it. Truly, and a lot. It did incredible things for me. The fact that I'm not copying it verbatim is anything but a slam on how you raised me. It is instead my own best effort, different because I'm coming from a different place than you were when you were raising kids, and trying to copy your methods when I'm a different person would most definitely mess everything up. Hopefully, my kids will turn out at least close to as well as I did. Which is scary, but it's the best I can do.

Here goes nothing.

Monday, December 29, 2008

The Calf Path

One day, through the primeval wood,
A calf walked home, as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.

Since then three hundred years have fled,
And, I infer, the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.

The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bell-wether sheep
Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep,
And drew the flock behind him, too,
As good bell-wethers always do.
And from that day, o'er hill and glade,
Through those old woods a path was made.

And many men wound in and out,
And dodged, and turned, and bent about
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because 'twas such a crooked path.
But still they followed—do not laugh—
The first migrations of that calf,
And through this winding wood-way stalked,
Because he wobbled when he walked.

This forest path became a lane,
That bent, and turned, and turned again;
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet,
The road became a village street;
And this, before men were aware,
A city's crowded thoroughfare;
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed the zigzag calf about;
And o'er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way,
And lost one hundred years a day;
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.

A moral lesson this might teach,
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind,

And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,

And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.
They keep the path a sacred groove,
Along which all their lives they move.
But how the wise old wood-gods laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf!
Ah! Many things this tale might teach—
But I am not ordained to preach.


—Sam Walter Foss

Sunday, October 26, 2008

How I can vote for Obama the Baby Killer

If you don't feel like reading all of this, at least read "The Good Part" (below)

This coming November 4, less than two weeks away, I fully intend to cast my vote for Barack Obama as president of the United States.

This doesn't sit too well with a lot of the people around me, particularly those back home and in my family.

The most mentioned issue, of course, is abortion, mostly in the vein of "how can you vote for a baby killer?" I regularly get anti-Obama emails from my aunt, the most recent of which included yet another youtube video. It's a video that compares McCain and Obama's stances on abortion. It's nothing new - I've been emailed a few such videos.

So, the question remains - how can I vote for someone who ruthlessly murders the fetuses so prominently displayed in said video?

My answer is twofold. Firstly, I will say that I don't totally agree with Obama on abortion. He is a bit far left of me. But abortion is not my issue, for a few reasons. I believe that unless you are running for office, you will never 100% agree with a candidate. And even then you will probably have to make some compromises to pander to your base. There are many other reasons that I am voting for Obama, and abortion is one issue that I disagree with among many that I agree with.

Secondly, I am personally conflicted about what laws should be made around abortion. Personally, I think abortions are a terrible thing, and should never be necessary. But one of the reasons I am more liberal that I was raised to be is that I am vehemently against legislating Christian morals. That's what the Church of England did, it's what the Pharisees did, and it's what the Religious Right is trying to do. The first eventually resulted in the country we now call the United States.

The second is what Jesus spent a good part of his ministry railing against.

THE GOOD PART

In fact, the very end of the above-mentioned video is why I decided to write this note. It used the imagery from the Passion of the Christ of Jesus drawing a line in the sand, presumably to invoke battle imagery - "This is the line, cross it and be with us or stay there and prepare for war" kind of thinking. The use of this particular imagery (from the biblical passage in Luke 8) struck me for two reasons.

First, Jesus was doing anything but when he was drawing that line (or whatever he was doing in the sand, we don't actually know). He was defending an adulterer, of all things, from the Pharisees! I would assume that to many of the Religious Right, their ideal America would involve outlawing adultery. But here we have Jesus, telling the Pharisees (who did just that) that it's not their place to judge. The famous "let him who is sinless cast the first stone" passage. And then, when he had the chance, did he condemn her? No - in fact, the Bible says, "Then neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared. "Go now and leave your life of sin." He put the responsibility for her actions right back where they belong - on her, not on the law. If Jesus were in politics today, I can't help but think he would get pounded for "promoting adultery" and "endorsing infidelity" for his stance.

Second, the Religious Right often uses the abortion issue to try to corner people like me - the "how can you vote for a baby killer" question. Strangely, right there in the black and white of scripture, was this:

They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him.

The Pharisees were trying to pick something that Jesus couldn't possibly object to - she was an Adulterer, for goodness' sake! - and get him on their side. They were taking a single issue and setting it up in black and white, trying to corner him into either condemning or commending her actions.

Jesus' response is a good summary of how I can vote for Obama. I don't want to misappropriate Jesus for my cause. I don't know what Jesus would do about abortion if he were running for president, although I tend to agree with Huckabee. But it helps elucidate my position. I don't think it's the place of the government to go legislating religion - as my other notes have said at length. Change on issues like abortion and gay marriage doesn't come from the outside by the government - it comes from the inside, on a personal level. That's what the church does. The government simply can't, and trying to force the church's job onto the government's shoulders is just asking for trouble.