Responses
to Violent Christendom 1 BFC 2017
Hosea
11:3-4; 1 Thessalonians 27b-8
September
10, 2017
I am the area facilitator for a nascent group of progressive
faith community leaders in Montana called Montana Interfaith Network. You may or may not be surprised that one of
the great participants in our local group is Uri Barnea, a retired rabbi, who,
when we asked for what we should be doing in our community, pointed to Not In
Our Town as the historical example. Now
if I remember correctly, Not In Our Town began with a congregational member of
a historical downtown church that courageously believed something had to be
done and someone had to get out and lead.
Maybe you know the place?
I was part of a leadership team that
worked on Montana Interfaith Network’s mission statement in Helena this summer:
“Empowered
by the wisdom of our traditions, we will name injustice, act in love, affirm
the interrelatedness of all creation, and advocate for the dignity, sanctity,
and equality of every human being. We seek to be a progressive faith
community in Montana.” While I bowed to the collective wisdom of the
group, I strongly disagreed with the language of this mission statement
believing it to carry the same old markers that have identified progressives in
the same “one-off” work that has us as interlopers in a framework already
provided for us. I’ll explain what I
mean by that later in the sermon but, for now, I would sum that up by saying
that imperial injustice has long dictated the message to conquered nations and
vulnerable populations that their rule is timeless, pre-existent, everlasting,
and inevitable. In response, the
Biblical narrative referenced God as the “Ancient of Days” and pre-existing
Wisdom as the architect of All Creation, saying that God had been around far
longer than your puny empire and would be around long after your empire had
fallen.
In the same manner,
God in Christ was referenced as the pre-existent “Wisdom” and “Word”, as the
Alpha and Omega. It was a way of saying,
“You, your empire, may think you hold the upper hand, carry the day, will have
us begging for your bread and circuses, inflated crowd sizes and ongoing
campaign speeches. We say, ‘Not so
much. We are not waiting around for you
to come correct. God is good. All the time.
And God’s purposes are being worked out from below, like an ever-flowing
stream, like a persistent widow, like a pervasive weed. The Empire of God is already formed and being
formed. And it is located nowhere near
your ziggurat, pyramid, palace, or tower.
God has been and will be around far longer than you. So.
Not . . . so . . . much.”
Travis
McAdam, an expert on the Religious Right working at the Montana Human Rights
Network, presented at our first local Montana Interfaith Network meeting. Just a little advertising, Walt Gulick is
working with Travis to iron out dates so that he can make his presentation here
at this church during Adult Forum over the course of two separate Sundays. In his presentation to our group, Travis’s
basic conclusion was that the Religious Right considers itself a political
organization. In other words, they not
only believe their faith directly informs the activities, actions, and policies
of government. The religious right also
believes their faith should have something to say about the collective power
involved in government. Generally, I do not
object to that and would hope that progressive faith communities seek that as well.
Where I have strong disagreement with
the Religious Right, is that, to the exclusion of all others, believe it should hold and dominate
government—even to the exclusion of all others, including the most vulnerable,
and even if that power means violently suppressing not only the viewpoint but
the collective presence and personhood of others. As popular evangelical pastor D. James
Kennedy once said, “Our job is to reclaim America for Christ, whatever the
cost. As the vice regents of God, we are
to exercise godly dominion and influence over our neighborhoods, our schools,
our government…in short, over every aspect and institution of human society.”[1]
In contrast to
Biblical faith as understood through the lens of Christ, the Religious Right
does not seek to learn or be transformed by others, welcome the stranger, and
protect the most vulnerable. Instead,
their faith is consistently valued based on whiteness, domination, and violence. Right not only aspires to might. Might implies . . . you must be right. That is an ancient story held by Pharaoh and Caesar
. . . not by the God of Moses, Miriam, Mary, and Christ.
Right
not only aspires to might. Might implies
you must be right. In the end, I think
that is a shallow and empty value system that cannot possibly describe the
width and breadth of God’s being and love and God’s use of power from below and
with. It certainly does not describe a
Middle Eastern Jewish peasant who lived on the conquered margins of society and
who formed his community with a band of ne’er-do-wells. He was humiliated, tortured, and crucified by
imperial order, and took for himself one of the strongest anti-imperial titles
used in Scripture—the Human One, who Daniel from the lion’s den saw coming with
the Ancient-Of-Days to oppose the everlasting rule of empires.[2] The Religious Right seeks Caesar’s
throne. Jesus of Nazareth sought a rule
and way of being that was wholly different from that of Caesar. From an ancient Christian hymn, as recorded
by the apostle Paul, “Christ, by the very nature of God, did not count equality
with God as something to be grasped or exploited, but emptied and humbled
himself . . .”[3] That is the kind of thing you should worship,
Paul declared. That is where you should
put your loyalty and allegiance. Not
with Caesar, who maneuvers and manipulates, dominates and exploits to collect
his titles and towers, so that others might patronize and laud him.
I
believe Travis is on target. The
Religious Right sees itself as a political organization. Even more so, I believe the political far
right is using the mythology of the Religious Right to carry the country. George Lakoff, professor of linguistics, made
this so clear to me when I read his thin paperback, Don’t Think of an Elephant some years back. The title of Lakoff’s book comes from his
Linguistics 101 class when he begins the year by talking about how language
frames work. He starts off by asking his
students, “Don’t think of an elephant.”
Of course, just by calling forward such a provocative image as an
elephant, all his students can think about is floppy ears, maybe even Dumbo
flying, and a large trunk lifted to trumpet.
He uses the negative within a frame that promotes just the opposite.
The
political right has done an effective job with providing frames for the issues
that confront us as communities and as a nation. These frames invite us into a worldview such
that we cannot use these frames and offer an alternative worldview because we
are forever on the defensive or in retreat trying to develop ideas or encourage
action that has already been decided by a worldview evoked by the frames.
Lakoff uses the
example of taxes. What person running
for political office has recently lifted up the good of taxes—how they support
infrastructure in roads and bridges, provide for our public schools, and make
possible widespread programs to care for the most vulnerable among us—the poor
and even care, protection, and relief for hurricane victims? Frames are so well done, that the only way
someone running for political office can talk about taxes, Lakoff believes, is
to talk about tax relief.[4] Taxes have been so framed as evil that we
cannot possibly have someone talk about them as positive or good.
Stating
an ancient truth, Christian feminist theologian Sallie McFague stated that all
Christians are theologians who develop a theology. We all do—consciously or unconsciously. We develop metaphors for God and ourselves that say who we
think God is and who we think we are.
“[These metaphors] control many of our decisions and actions; we rely on
them as justification for what we do personally and as a nation.”[5]
So
what is that theology, those metaphors, those frames which give the Religious
Right such power in the public square, metaphors or frames which help them make
sense of the world, evoke a larger worldview, and entreat others to join
them? And what might progressive
Christians use in response to counter? What
are those metaphors or frames we want to use to evoke a wider world view?
Lakoff
believes that we make sense of our nation by using the metaphor or frame of
“family” to describe who we are and how we move in the world. We use terms like the Founding Fathers and
the Daughters of the American Revolution, family terms, to make sense of who we
are as a nation. So, Lakoff asked, if
there are two different understandings of nation, what might be the two
different understandings of family used for our national worldview?
Lakoff
believes one frame or metaphor is the strict father disciplinarian. After consulting with colleagues who were
right wing conservatives, Lakoff learned who is considered the teacher of the
strict disciplinarian metaphor. Lakoff
believes it is Dr. James Dobson, the historical evangelical Christian leader out
of Colorado Springs who long hosted the radio program Focus on the Family,
still airing on 2,000 stations nation-wide.
Dobson’s books and pamphlets are so popular that he has his own zip
code.
Here
are the assumptions found within the strict father metaphor as explained by Dr.
James Dobson:
The world is a dangerous place,
and it always will be, because there is evil out there in the world. The world
is also difficult because it is competitive. There will always be winners and
losers. There is an absolute right and an absolute wrong. Children are born
bad, in the sense that they just want to do what feels good, not what is right. Therefore, they have to be made good.
What is needed in this kind of a
world is a strong, strict father who can:
• Protect the family in the
dangerous world,
• Support the family in the
difficult world, and
• Teach his children right from wrong. [6]
Lakoff
goes on to explain that what children are to learn within this frame,
particularly, is obedience and that obedience leads to a self-discipline in
pursuing their own self-interest. So if
your wealth and prosperity grows, you must have had the proper obedience and
self-discipline in pursuing your own self-interest. If, however, wealth and prosperity do not
come your way, best bet is that you require more discipline, properly
administered by a strict father figure.
There is no place for pity or emotion.
Tough love demands that you dare to discipline.
If you are a person who has materially
prospered in wealth and power, this then is evidence of not only your
discipline but your moral rectitude.
Even if you are a habitual liar or show a lack of compassion, because
you prosper materially, this worldview suggests that your wealth still makes
you a fundamentally moral person. Lakoff
goes on to extend the metaphor to suggest that this strict father is who we are
as a nation in our relationship with other nations. We are the moral authority. We decide.
Other underdeveloped nations are like children who require discipline.[7]
What Lakoff does not state in his talk
about the strict father, disciplinarian metaphor is that that whether be
conservative or progressive politically or spiritually, that metaphor is in all
of us. It is insidious in the way that
it can sometimes unseat our confidence, making us all think that we somehow do
not measure up or wonder why we are not more self-disciplined enough to be
successful and inherit material wealth.
What we all need to hear is, as part of the
progressive faith community is that almost all the sacred texts of the major
faiths is that material prosperity is often viewed with suspicion and
critique. There is a tradition within
Scripture that suggests that if you are wealthy in the midst of poverty and
deprivation, it is assumed that you gained your wealthy through avarice, greed,
and violence.[8]
By contrast, the other model or frame
is the nurturant parent model. Here are
some of the assumptions Lakoff mentions in that model:
Both parents are equally
responsible for raising the children. The assumption is that children are born
good and can be made better. The
world can be made a better
place, and our job is to work on that. The parents ’job is to nurture their
children and to raise their children to be nurturers of others.
What does nurturance mean? It
means two things: empathy and
responsibility. If you have a
child, you have to know what every cry
means. You have to know when the
child is hungry, when he needs a
diaper change, when he is having
nightmares. And you have a responsibility—you have to take care of this child.
Since you cannot take care of someone else if you are not taking care of
yourself, you have to take
care of yourself enough to be
able to take care of the child.
All this is not easy. Anyone who
has ever raised a child knows that
this is hard. You have to be
strong. You have to work hard at it. You
have to be very competent. You have to know a lot.[9]
Included
in the values of the nurturant parent model are freedom, opportunity, fairness,
openness, two-way communication, community building, and trust.
So if you have friends or family
members who seem to be living in a different world when it comes to talking
about faith and politics, you probably are
living in very different worlds. What
too often happens, is that any discussion or debate you have with people from
the Religious Right is that you end up trying to engage them within their own
frames. They have Bible verses. They have pamphlets. They have simple, succinct ways of explaining
their faith that make it seem impossible to engage in any meaningful
discussion.
Lakoff has many recommendations moving
forward. I want to focus on one. Knowing that it is the Religious Right which
defines the frames and metaphors and therefore often the values for the
political right, we must get better to decide where we have commonalities with
our sisters and brothers but then also get better about talking about our values and providing frames
and metaphors for our faith. Too often,
we left more conservative faith traditions because we knew it was harmful to
us, didn’t hold logic for us, or, through our intuition, knew there was
something missing. But for many of us,
God is still the strict, disciplinarian Father.
We have not moved on from the God of our childhood. Many of us refuse to process, unwilling to
talk about God or do the hard work of developing a simple yet complex
understanding we might articulate to those who would disagree with us. We just know we don’t want that! Over there!
When we do speak only in the negative, we cede the
dialog to people who hear the gospel of Dr. James Dobson blasted out to them
day after day after day. We must be the
theologians Sallie McFague imagines us to be.
Those frames, that language, can create worldview and eventually
world. Over the next few weeks I hope I
can push hard enough to help us all engage in difficult arguments and
conversation so that evangelical and fundamentalist Christians are not the only
ones speaking their values into the public square. You see, I imagined the mission statement of
Montana Interfaith Network might say something like, “Nurtured by stories,
traditions, and parables that are deeper and longer than any flag or nation, we
will walk side by side with the most vulnerable to learn together what love
looks like in public. Nourished by the
good earth, in thanksgiving we will play, celebrate, and delight and return its
goodness so that creation and all of humankind might flourish.”
That’s my feeble attempt. I need yours.
We need ours. We need poetic,
profound, and lyrically beautiful ways to state our faith so that we invite
people through our frames and metaphors to dialog, action, and community that
is beyond self-interested wealth and violent action passed off as
discipline. It matters. As Civil Rights legend, Ruby Sales said a
little over a year ago, there is a problem among white churches and white folks
that is creating pain for so many people right now.[10] When the depth of your theology is rooted in
whiteness, and domination, and violence, your theology is too shallow to cover
your pain. Your identity is too shallow
and your God is too small. And that
shallowness and smallness is showing as people try to make believe that if they
repeat that hate and fear over and over again, hold it in a vice-grip and shout
down or threaten violence to whoever disagrees, it will somehow become more
broad and expansive than it is. The God
who nurtures and nourishes us is lost in an attempt to gain control and
dominion over everything.
Over the
next few weeks, I hope you will help us all develop frames and metaphors that
reflect the incredible lives I experience in all of you. If we have fun doing it, who could resist us? Really.
Who could resist us? And as we join
hands to make this so, we reach out and find that God’s hand enfolds around ours
to piece together the universe. For the arc
of the moral universe is long, sisters and brothers, siblings and cousins, but it
bends toward justice. Praise God. Amen.
[1] Travis McAdam, “Fusing
Faith and Politics: The Origins of the
Religious Right,” Slide 9.
[2] Daniel 7:13ff
[3] Philippians 2:6ff
[4] George Lakoff, Don’t Think of An Elephant: Know Your Values and Frame the Debate—the
Essential Guide for Progressives (White River Green, Vermont: Chelsea Green Publishing, 2004), p. 4.
[5] Sallie McFague, A New Climate for Theology: God, the World, and Global Warming (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2008), p. 5.
[6] Lakoff, “Don’t Think,” pp.
7-8.
[7] Ibid, p. 11.
[8] Jeremiah 5:27-29. The prophet Jeremiah’s critique makes it clear
throughout that he sees the accumulation of wealth resulting in injustice to the
poor.
[9] Lakoff, “Don’t think,” p.
12.
[10] “Where does it
hurt?: Ruby Sales conversation with
Krista Tippett,” OnBeing, September
15, 2016. https://onbeing.org/programs/ruby-sales-where-does-it-hurt/.
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