Religion


A few new things on the web related  to me:

First, announcing Unsplendid, an online poetry journal where those of you who are fond of the occasional metrical or rhyming poem can find any number of interesting examples.  I’m an editor, which primarily means I get to vote on which poems get published.  We plan to put up new  material every four months or so. 

Next, I have an article on blasphemy and imagination up at Salt Magazine.  As usual, I feel I should caveat it to death, but fuggedabout it.  I’m goingto leave it alone.

Well, not necessarily. I’d be hard pressed to identify a Christian way to surf. But here is some Jesus-related and Christian-themed stuff on the web. In honor of the first day of Lent.

What Would Jesus Blog? A blog in the voice of Jesus, if he were a tongue-in-cheek 20-something white guy who keeps up on the college radio scene.

Jesus of The Week The follies of iconography. This week it’s post-it Jesus. (link via what would jesus blog)

Church Sign Generator. You know how I love to hate church marquees. Here I can review prime examples or make my own. (link via what would jesus blog)

Lark News. Fake Christian news, once a month. Hi-larryous.

Bored Again Christian. Podcasts of below-the-radar-but-still-pretty-good music.

I just googled “how to web surf like a Christian” for the heck of it and hit this Christianity on the Web metasite.

Sacred Spaces, the interactive Jesuit prayer site. I go there a lot.

Salt is a monthly e-zine where I publish sometimes.

And my Jesus Camp review just came out on Next Wave, another monthly e-zine.

Of course there’s the old stalwart, Christianity Today.

I dig Image for poetry and fiction and discussion of the arts.

And Sojourners keeps me up to speed on the latest in peace and justice.

I think maybe I spend too much time surfing.  Yet I’ll ask the question anyway: what am I missing?

I’ve been wanting to see the movie Jesus Camp ever since it came out this summer– the responses to it were so passionate and varied. On one end of the spectrum, you had people who were utterly stunned by what they saw, calling for someone to rescue those children from the fascists. On the other end you had people praising the summer camp to the skies and calling for all Christians to similarly train their children.

Now I hear it’s up for an Oscar. It’s a good movie. I’d recommend it to anyone who is interested in American sub-cultures or Christian life or childhood/coming of age stories. The filmmakers, who incidentally are not quite as even-handed as they would like us to believe (I noticed the ominous music undergirding certain scenes), follow a handful of children from Missouri to the Kids on Fire summer camp. Before they go, we meet their families and get a peek at their lives. They are all homeschooled and attend a pentecostal church. One girl prays over her bowling ball on a group outing; another dances to Christian rock in front of her mirror and explains the difficulty of dancing always for God, and never in “the flesh.” A boy laughs at Veggie Tales with his brother and discusses with his mom the “bad reasoning” surrounding global warming.

The kids the filmmakers chose to highlight are great. They are articulate, loving, and passionate. They are creative and silly and secure. Any parent would be proud of kids like these. I know a lot of families who are raising their kids in a very similar way: sheltered, homeschooled, and family- and church- focused. My church teaches children to do some of the same things the summer camp does: pray, prophesy, evangelize, worship.

The children’s pastor who runs the camp, Becky Fisher, is also great in many ways. She has a sense of humor and a wild closet full of props (brains, goo, etc) that she uses for object lessons. I’m totally stealing her balloon idea. She takes children seriously and treats them (for the most part) lovingly, and she never forgets that they are children. The kids, after their time in her camp, leave with a sense of their importance to her, to God, to each other, and the world. All good.

So I can see why many parents and people who work with children feel inspired by the movie. I can also see why it makes some people feel worried. First of all, Becky and the children’s families seem to come from a standpoint labeled by its critics as “dominionist”. From what I understand, that perspective is characterized by a sense of the inevitability of truth: we have the truth, truth is slowly marching over the land, and it is only a matter of time before all of America and the world recognize the Lordship of Christ. To hasten the coming of that day, Christians should move to take power in every domain, spiritual and worldy, and thereby further the cause of Christ. Every sphere of life, from government to education to medicine to entertainment to the free market, should come under the dominion of the Kingdom of God, and it is our job to make that happen through prayer and obedience and allegiance to truth. (If I have mischaracterized dominionist thinking in any way, please offer an alternative description or clarification).

The way this works out practically is in comments like one boy’s mother made, that there was no other possible explanation for the natural world than a six day creation: it was the only thing that made sense. It results in intercessory prayer meetings which become very passionate, often with people crying, yelling, and clapping; or in prayer walks, where people lay spiritual claim to a specific area. It means organizing protests and political action on issues that are seen as especially Christian, such as pro-life activities. It means training to join fields and industries where Christian influence is seen as being in short supply. There’s something of a “beat them at their own game” vibe involved. The Christian entertainment company that produces the Veggie Tales cartoons was hailed for many years as a light in a dark industry, though recently it received criticism for agreeing to tone down its religious message for afternoon network cartoons. A lot of people saw that as a step backwards and a compromise of truth.

At any rate, the kids at camp cry. A lot. They are moved to tears in worship, in repentance of sin, and in intercession for their country. For people not familiar with this type of Christian expression, it can seem a little freaky to hear a group of children crying and screaming to, for instance, “take back the land.” During one strange moment, they all extend their hands to pray over a cardboard cutout of George Bush. Though they were praying generically for him to govern with godly wisdom, it is darn hard to imagine that they would have done the same over a cut-out of Bill Clinton or John Kerry.

It’s unfortunate that war metaphors and comparisons to terrorist camps are made so often by Becky and others in the film. She positions her camp as the Christian alternative to jihadist schools in Palestine and elsewhere, whose fanatical dedication she seems to admire. Neither she nor anyone else in the film intended to convey that Christians should actually pick up weapons and storm the ramparts of the secular world, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some people took it that way.

I myself have participated in many of the same activities at different points in my life. They’re not quite as freaky as they appear. Some of them– especially prayer– still form an important part of my response to my culture. Others, I have stepped away from entirely. I’m not a dominionist; I don’t share the same dream of an ideal American culture, and though I want to add love and goodness to the world around me, I feel no need to seek positions of power to do so.

I have two concerns with the way the children in the movie were being taught. First, scripture was almost never read, referenced or quoted. The power and persuasiveness seemed almost entirely experiential. Of course, this could have been a choice of the filmmakers to focus only on the most intense moments; the kids did seem to carry their bibles around a lot.

Second, the children were being raised in what appears to be an entirely closed, self-referential system. They go from home to church to camp and back again. Any encounter with outsiders appears to be mainly an opportunity for evangelism (there’s a great moment when a little girl approaches a group of elderly black men hanging out on the Capitol Mall in D.C.). They are told that every part of their worldview is equally, unquestionably true, from learning to love each other to politically conservative positions on global warming. They are urged to have absolute confidence in what they have been taught.

The claustrophobia of this closed circle came home to me especially when one girl started explaining that there are some churches where God will not visit, because the people just sit there and mouth the words of songs during the service. Even fellow Christians, she seemed to be saying, can be outside the circle. Another moment that this point was pressed home was when the filmmakers contrived to have Becky call a progressive Christian radio show. At the host’s questions, she became flustered, lost her usual articulate poise, and ended up saying silly things, though the other guy’s challenge was not a particularly good one. She wasn’t used to being confronted with other opinions.

I worry for these children because as they grow up they will encounter many other views and ideas. They may not know how to interact with people who don’t share their basic values. They may never learn to reach out beyond superficial contacts or conversion efforts. Alternatively, they may realize that some parts of their closed circle of truth are open to credible challenge or multiple interpretations, even among Christians. They may, upon finding these vulnerabilities, lose faith in the whole package and entirely abandon the way of the cross. That would be sad indeed.

I want to clarify that my comments here are confined to particular children as they and their families and teachers are portrayed in the film– not Christian homeschooling families in general, which come in many shapes and sizes.

I also had a few problems with the film itself. As I mentioned earlier, the music sometimes sent a certain message. There was some artificial cutting and pasting designed to marry the confirmation of Judge Alito and the intercessory prayer at the summer camp, even though they took place during completely different times of year. The directors also staged some scenes after the camp was over– first, the kids meet withan awkward, un-funny Ted Haggard at New Life Church in Colorado Springs; then, they suddenly appear in a pro-life protest in front of the U.S. Supreme Court. These scenes are so contrived that they fail to demonstrate the themes presented earlier in the film. But the patient attention shown to the small moments of their lives at home and their spiritual awakening at camp make it all worthwhile.

Awhile back I found myself yelling at the prophet Ezekiel.  “Are you going to take that lying down?” I hollered.  At the beginning of his career, he responded to God’s pronouncements and acts with passion.  Then one day, God told him that his protests on behalf of his friends and country were no good.  Judgment was judgment, and in this particular case, even the best people who ever lived could only save themselves.  Afterwards, Ezekiel kept quiet about his own opinion and did exactly as he was told.  If you ask me, he was mistaken in this decision.

The pronouncements got worse and worse.   Finally, one day, God lamented, “I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not destroy it, but I found none.”

God could have meant that he wanted someone to start a religious revival.  But perhaps he was looking for something more simple:  someone, perhaps Ezekiel, to argue for mercy and relief, to call upon the part of him that moves in kindness and gentleness.  God likes those plucky types.  Think of a few of the many successful arguers of the Bible: Abraham bargaining for Sodom and Gomorrah;  Job and David, each arguing on his own behalf; Moses intervening for the people of Israel; and Jesus himself, calling down forgiveness on his persecutors. All the really good prophets belong to both God and their people.

Ezekiel was in a bind, of course, listening to all that doom and being constantly reminded of his moral obligations.  I can’t really blame him for wanting to avoid stirring up trouble.  But then God announced that Ezekiel’s wife, the “delight of [his] eyes” would die, and God would use the death as an object lesson.  As far as I can tell, Ezekiel didn’t do a thing about it.  “So I spoke to the people in the morning, and in the evening my wife died.  The next morning I did as I had been commanded.”

What husband, given advance warning of his beloved wife’s sudden death, would not fight for her life?  If ever there is a moment to argue with God, that’s it.  I was really hot under the collar at Ezekiel about his passive acceptance.  Stand in the gap for your wife, fool!  He had already heard God invite people to challenge his judgments, just as I later read it.

It reminded me a little of people I knew in another country, who, anytime something bad happened, would shrug their shoulders and say, “It is the will of God.”   The mechanic didn’t tighten the lug nuts so the taxi lost a wheel and rolled over, killing several people?  The will of God.  A bad storm blowing a makeshift house over yet again?  Also the will of God.  Those who acquiesce easily to the vagaries of Fate have a certain peace; they never try to control things that are out of their control.  They accept, they continue on.

And yet, it is an act of faithlessness for Ezekiel of old, and believers of today, to submit unquestioningly to the hand of Fate or judgment.   There is no Fate– no implacable force of change and blessing and disaster shaping our destinies.  To behave so is to deny the power of God’s gift to us: relationship.   He has invited our opinions and pleas, and sometimes they can affect destiny.  If they did not, the whole idea of relationship would be useless.  It would be no better than sending an impassioned plea to the President and getting back a picture of his family, stamped with a signature.

There are a few things I wish I had argued about more, when I had the chance.  I wonder if Ezekiel ever felt the same.

Spotted in a Christian Book Distributor catalog:

prayerbear.JPG
First part of the ad text: “He’s cute! He’s cuddly! He’s a prayer warrior!” This strikes me as so funny. I suppose it’s possible that there are children who would enjoy playing– I mean, praying — with this stuffed stalwart of the faith. Tickle Me Elmo got pretty popular, but I never understood that one, either.

At my new church, the pastor has been doing a long sermon series on how to love. It is practical and often wise, and I like it best when he structures his messages around metaphor; a well chosen image can be a far better container for meaning than simple exposition. Thus I have passed the weeks saying to myself, “Go up into the house of perfected love. Abide in the house of perfected love.” This was the central metaphor from the first sermon I ever heard him give. It is a house built of God himself.

This whole time I’ve been hoping for a message on how to respond when there’s no payoff for choosing love. I’m not sure how this particular pastor feels about taking suggestions from the peanut gallery, so I’ll pose my question here. For example, maybe the people to whom you have been providing food and medical care beat a few people on your team almost to death, as happened recently to Kelsey in Sudan. Maybe a father disowns his adult child and eventually dies, having never come around to reconciliation. Maybe a spouse moves ahead with the divorce, a teenager commits suicide, a government imprisons and oppresses its people. Maybe nothing ever changes. Does this mean our love is worthless?

This problem of lack of visible results has often been a stumbling block in my own search for faith, in part because my denomination, The Vineyard, teaches its people to expect God: in particular, to expect God to speak, to act, and to heal, often with immediate results. I’m glad my church teaches this sense of expectation, as it serves as a corrective to the lack of hope sometimes found among Christians. But the experience of any Christian life reveals that things don’t always work out immediately, and only seldom the way we expect. Things don’t always work out, period. So how does one develop a faith that is strong and flexible enough to both expect good things and keep steady through months, years, and even generations without breakthroughs or results? Last Sunday, to encourage us, the pastor guaranteed that we would reap what we sowed. If we sowed love, we would eventually get love back. I hope he wasn’t guaranteeing us tangible results in the people and situations around us. I think he meant something like this:

“Jesus does not promise that when we bless our enemies and do good to them they will not despitefully use and persecute us. They certainly will. But not even that can hurt or overcome us, so long as we pray for them. For if we pray for them, we are taking their distress and poverty, their guilt and perdition, upon ourselves, and pleading to God for them. We are doing vicariously for them what they cannot do for themselves. Every insult they utter only serves to bind us more closely to God and them. Their persecution of us only serves to bring them nearer to reconciliation with God and to further the triumphs of love.”

– Dietrich Bonhoeffer, from his book The Cost of Discipleship. I ran across it again the other day in Marilynne Robinson’s book, The Death of Adam. Bonhoeffer was a pastor and theologian in Nazi Germany, and was executed by the Nazis.

I’ve been reading Ezekiel lately, and every time I sit down with it that old spiritual comes into my head. I learned it in my Brownie troop away back when. “Ezekiel saw two wheels a-rollin’, way in the middle of the air. A wheel within a wheel a-rollin’, away in the middle of the air.” The song neglects to mention the four-headed beastie that used the wheels for feet. It had eyes all over its body. It never needed to turn because for it, every direction was straight. It was like the north pole in that way. This thing was a cherubim, and it is where God hid out when he talked to Ezekiel. Poor Ezekiel. Up until God appeared, he was an up-and-comer who hung with the elders at the city gate. In his writing, he took care to get the details right, but never added flourishes or special effects. He called it like he saw it, the original straight shooter. No ifs, ands, or buts with Ezekiel.
Other prophets get dreams, voices, or angels that resemble really good-looking humans. Ezekiel gets cherubim. And that’s just the beginning! One of his first assignments is to lay on his side, in his underwear, for several months. He must eat food cooked over an excrement fire. And when he finishes? He gets to turn over to the other side and do it all again. He also gets to draw a picture on the back of a pan and prop it against the wall. Once he’s got all that taken care of, God tells him to pack up all his belongings, heave them up on his back, and dig a hole through the city wall. Then he must climb through the hole as if he is departing on a long journey. God points out, perhaps unnecessarily, that people are going to ask him why he is acting so weird, and that’s when he gets to come at them with the gloom and doom: war, famine, exile. Ezekiel is not too happy about all this. God blesses him with a hardheadedness equal to that of the people he must prophesy to. Lucky! The most stubborn man in the city!

I find it funny that good citizen Ezekiel, who likely just wanted a good job and a calm, god-fearing life working his way up the ladder, got one of the most crazy and eye-catching jobs in the bible. His prophetic performance art could put to shame any number of avant-garde artists in, say, New York City. I’ve read this book before, but it’s been awhile. WHAT will he do next?

Slate has a new blog– “blogging the Bible” by a guy who hasn’t read much of it. The inaugural post is interesting, haven’t got into the rest yet.

“I believe in the holiness of the human person and of humanity as a phenomenon. I believe our failings, which are very great and very grave– after all, we have brought ourselves to the point of possible self-annihilation– are a cosmic mystery, a Luciferian disaster, the fall of the brightest angel. That is to say, at best and at worst we are within the field of sacred meaning, holy. I believe holiness is a given of our being that, essentially, we cannot add to or diminish, whose character and reality are fully known only to God and are fully valued only by him.”

–Marilynne Robinson, in “Onward, Christian Liberals,” The American Scholar, v 75 n 2.

Back in February I posted a little thingy on what it feels like, on a day-to-day basis, to be one, which ended up being quite full of warm fuzzies. So now it’s time for Part II: The Not So Fuzzies.

1. The moral ambiguity.

One of the most attractive aspects of the Way of Jesus is also its biggest, gnarliest root in the trail: everything is imbued with meaning. The trees, the skyline, the conversation, the body. It is hard to remember that “meaning” means “value” and not “answers.” The Bible, as precious as it is, is not EVEN CLOSE to Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth, though many days I dream of a how-to manual for living life. How easy it would be. You would just check the index: “annoying coworkers” and there would be three or four bullet points about how to treat them, right on page 615. Instead we have a motley and lovely collection of stories, poems, aphorisms, and letters. I bet, for any of the 10 Commandments, I could find an example somewhere in the Bible where God or Jesus advocates breaking it. Instead of being given a list of rules and consequences we are asked to think bigger, to apply the ideals of human and divine relationships to individual choices and interactions. It’s kind of hard.

2. The existential ambiguity.

Not only are there no rule books, there are no hard-and-fast moral reasons for why things happen. If there are, it is not usually our place to know them, as the book of Job attests. This would be easier to take if Christianity didn’t also offer meaning and a sense of connection; it shore seems like the reasons should be part of the package, don’t it? Jesus once said that a man was born blind so that “the work of God might be displayed in his life,” a reason that could be applied to every life circumstance, and yet the desire to apply moral lessons to life events is so strong that it often creeps into the advice Christians give to those they love. I’m sure I’ve doled out my fair share over the years. “Once you learn to (be content, have more faith, get rid of your pride), I believe that God will give you a (job, child, spouse, healing, calling).” We speak as if the only reason a person is not perfectly fulfilled in the here and now is because he or she somehow resists and denies the creator. I wish I could use experience as evidence of God’s blessing or lack thereof; it would be a simple way to stay on track, and to know exactly where everyone stands in the eyes of God. Instead I’ve got the much stranger and more lovely idea that what happens, happens so that the “work of God might be displayed.”

3. Other Christians

Everybody who wants in is invited in. It’s not like the rest of American society, where if you don’t like something about a certain group, you just leave and start your own group of more like-minded souls (ok maybe sometimes it ends up that way). I read one time that among the first disciples were Simon the Zealot (a radical nationalist/terrorist type) and Matthew the Tax Collector (a get rich off my own oppressed people type). Pre-Jesus, Simon might have killed Matthew, or at least spit on him. Post-Jesus, they ate, travelled and slept together every day. That’s the standard of unity in Christ. I worship cheek by jowl with people with terrible politics, misguided theology, weird personal quirks, and elaborate end times theories; people who constantly ask for help, who condescend to others, who have B.O., who ask for way more than I want to give, who are too touchy-feely; people who hurt my feelings sometimes, or whom I alienate. We are all in this together, and we are family. We don’t get to run away, and that’s where the real stuff happens.

4. Globalization

The thing about Christianity is that it is a very interpersonal religion. The stories and advice you get from the Bible are about fairly small groups of people, whereas what we got in this day and age is powers and principalities. That is, our small individual choices affect the enviroment, the world economy, the balance of power, these huge machineries operating at a scale far beyond the human and uncontrolled by any human or group. At any given time I could list the sufferings of people in ten different countries. How responsible am I for them, if at all? Does knowledge equal responsibility? Jesus kept things personal; when people tried to draw him into questions of economy and government he said, “Give to Caesar’s what is Caesar’s; give to God what is God’s.” The wealth of knowledge is overwhelming, the resources with which to decide how to act quite small.

5. Being Connected to Everyone

Being a Christian partly means going around as God’s agent. There is a quote on Tara’s blog from Gilead that sums up the experience pretty well. You always have to keep an eye out for what God wants. So if, on my way to the light rail stop, I pass a man shuffling along with twisted feet and knees, clinging to every light post and nearly falling as he wobbles between light posts, I must ask myself: “what is my connection with this person? How is God speaking/acting here? Am I to pray silently for this man and smile as I walk by? Engage in conversation and find out if he needs a walker? Pray for healing aloud right there on the street? Allow him his dignity and keep going?” It’s a risky and tricky business, I tell you. (And if you’re wondering, that time I went with Option 1, my usual choice and in this case a potential cop-out.)

6. Self-Discipline and Self-Denial

This one is hard but usually fruitful. I don’t think I even need to go into it. I’m tired and I don’t feel like it.

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