Genesis 14, 1 Timothy 2:2 & Our Prayers

  First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. 

   –1 Timothy 2:1-4

I think it was D.A. Carson whom I heard observe that the kings in Genesis 14 are best thought of as small town mayors. Admah, Zeboiim and Zoar were cities, not nation-states, and their populations quite small when compared to the American cities with which we are familiar today. These were “cities” of well under a thousand persons in which everyone pretty much knew everyone else: the “king” was someone who had a real job and who you likely ran into around town. In other words, don’t think of the pomp of a Westminster Abbey coronation every time you read the word “king” in the Bible. As often as not, it’s merely a synonym for “leader of a government.”

Kings figure prominently in Scripture, especially in the Psalms and prophets. Kings are heads over nations and peoples, and often represent those who oppose our Lord, the one true King over heaven and earth. Hence our surprise when we find the apostles exhorting us to submit ourselves to these ungodly authorities (Romans 13) and even to pray for them (1 Timothy 2:1-2). Christians are to have a particular and benevolent interest in kings, no matter who they are, and perhaps especially when they are the wrong sort of king.

I learned this lesson in prayer the hard way on July 4, 2010, when I was preaching near Toronto in a Canadian Reformed Church. In blithe indifference to my nation’s Independence Day, my good friend Doug Vandeburgt led his congregation in prayer for Canada’s queen! While I was gravely shaken, the episode caused me to reflect upon how I had been leading and praying in public worship. I began being much more faithful to Paul’s admonitions in 1 Timothy 2 by praying for all who are in high positions.

Most congregations, I think, are reasonably faithful in this regard: I hear prayers for our nation’s leaders in nearly every Church I visit, even when the president in office would appear not to be the first choice of the average congregant in the room. But then I remember Genesis 14.

The problem with Americans is that they dream too big: they would rather fail to change the world than succeed in helping one neighbor. The problem with American Christians may be that they pray too big, failing to uphold their mayor, their township’s board of trustees, or the judge of the nearest municipal court before the throne of grace. If we are to love our neighbor, we certainly ought to pray for these kings and princes close to home.

You may have had the experience of praying by name for a missionary during worship services and only later meeting that person for the first time. You feel an immediate warmth toward and interest in that missionary; you want to know how the Lord has been answering her prayer requests; you feel drawn toward him in what can only be called a form of Christian love. Now imagine having the same experience when you go to traffic court and meet the judge.

Does that sound odd? Does it seem a little silly?

Consider: one of the most deeply peculiar aspects of the Christian faith, as even our Savior acknowledges, is the command to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us (Matthew 5:43-47). To pray for someone, of course, is to love that person. Only by loving our enemies can we begin to imitate the perfection of our heavenly Father who loves us (Matthew 5:48). Let’s be honest: we live in a culture in which many, including ourselves, are quick to cast aspersions on politicians and bureaucrats. If we think so poorly of them, then by Christian logic we should be praying for them so much the more zealously. If we love them before the throne of grace, perhaps our hearts will be disciplined to love them in person as well.

In point of fact, municipal officials, whether high or low, are infrequently our enemies or persecutors. They may very literally be our neighbors, and most of the time they are far more likely to be able to do good for our congregations and families than the President or a Supreme Court Justice of these United States. So let me make a practical suggestion: during your congregation’s evening service, pray by name for your municipality’s mayor or trustees or alderpersons. This will be good, and will certainly please God our Savior.

And who knows? As Christians, we may yet be free to lead peaceful and quiet lives. Our Churches may yet be godly and dignified in every way. And perhaps our kings and princes and municipal court judges may yet be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth.

Two houses (being the second part)

 The United Stated Congress is made up of two houses: the Senate and the House of Representatives. The number of Senators is set by the United States Constitution: at two per state, there are 100. The number of Representatives was set by statute in the early 20th century, when it was realized things were getting out of hand and was accordingly capped far too late at an entirely unwieldy 435 (441 if you include non-voting delegates). 

This vast numerical disparity has led to very different styles of operation. The Senate, due to its relatively small size, gives each member opportunities to speak, debate and serve on important committees even while new to the institution. (In theory, this also allows senators to pursue regional agendas as avidly as ideological ones, but this feature has been waning as the type of candidate elected has tended to be increasingly partisan over the last couple decades.) In the House, seniority is everything and parties strive to maintain strict control over their members. There are just too many Congresspersons running around to let everyone have an equal voice in the chamber's operations.

Each house and its manner of doing business has its own strengths and weaknesses, most of which are dictated by necessity. The particular genius of the bicameral legislature is to ensure that those weaknesses never prove fatal because both houses must agree in order for legislation to pass. This system therefore allows us to benefit from each house's strengths without (necessarily) falling victim to its weaknesses.

This is all fairly elementary stuff that should have been covered in your high school civics class, if American high schools still taught civics. I bring it up not because I think you ignorant (after all, you're a reader of this blog, demonstrating thereby rare taste, refinement, education and, almost certainly, above-average height and physical attractiveness) but because it offers insight into the general assemblies of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church and the Presbyterian Church in America.

The OPC's General Assembly is strictly capped at 155: its debate (supposedly) mirrors that of the U.S. Senate with lengthy speeches and much freedom for individual commissioners to pursue idiosyncratic agendas. Not so the PCA's General Assembly, which may include all teaching elders and two ruling elders from each congregation. (The "may" is emphasized because each commissioner must pay his own way and so it's never been the case that everyone who is eligible to serve at the PCA GA has actually registered to do so.) Given this rule, along with the fact that the PCA is over twelve times the size of the OPC, the PCA's GA is much larger than the OPC's and so tends to mirror many of the operational tendencies of the U.S. House of Representatives: commissioners voting according to group affiliation (however defined), less allowance given to debate, low tolerance for idiosyncratic agendas.

As with the two Houses of the United States Congress, each assembly's approach to its membership, and the concomitant operational style of each, has its own strengths and weaknesses. However, while we hope (often against hope, bitter experience and reason itself) that the weaknesses of each House of Congress will be negated by the strengths of the other, no such hope exists for the two General Assemblies. Because each is the highest court of its respective denomination, the rulings of the one cannot impact the other, and so each General Assembly, and the denomination it serves, may eventually fall victim to its own weaknesses. 

I offer this analysis for two reasons: first, I've not seen anyone else draw this comparison; and second, I have thoughts, to be offered at another time.

Travel narrows the mind

 An oft-unmentioned benefit of travel and living in a variety of regions and climes is the opportunity to have one's prejudices and biases reinforced with new anecdotal and statistical evidence. Of course, one must first have worked oneself into an appropriately curmudgeonly state of recalcitrant grouchiness, which, thankfully, I have. Indeed, when I ask "How are you?" and the reply is "Can't complain," I usually respond "I bet you could if you tried."

Shortly after moving to the Greater Cincinnati Metropolitan Area, Thing 2 and I noticed something wrong with the sunrise: namely, it came much later in the morning than we expected. Studying a map, I eliminated being further north as a cause because Cincinnati and Denver are at roughly the same latitude. However, I suddenly realized that Cincinnati is relatively closer to the western edge of the Eastern Time Zone than is Denver to the western edge of the Mountain Time Zone. (Reread that last sentence until it makes sense; I promise it does.) Therefore, the sun rises and sets later in the day in Cincinnati than it does in Denver. A series of interviews with the native population of Ohio confirmed my hypothesis (because in this house, we believe in science).

This means, of course, that the Birthplace of Aviation most definitely does not need "more daylight at the end of the day," the oft-cited justification for Daylight Saving Time. Indeed, the pitiful schoolchildren attempting to cross busy streets every morning are in need of sunlight lest they lay down their lives for public education, but it has again been denied to them by the bolshevik scheme to mess with the nature of reality itself through mandating that all clocks "spring ahead" (even though it's still winter). If any of these United States should do away with this annual insanity, it's Ohio.

Stop the madness, save the children, and never again. Ohioans unite! You have nothing to lose except showing up an hour late to worship services once a year.

Iconoclasm is a virtue

 I suppose I'm thankful R.R. Reno's essay "Shared Loves and Strong Loyalties" is on the First Things
website. He helpfully clarifies just how I think both he and First Things, under his editorship, have drifted away from waters in which a Protestant can swim. 

Reno argues that the liberal political tradition has enervated our society and we need instead love, and in particular shared loves. Those shared and efficacious loves are inspired by and directed toward the strong gods of justice, nation, family and blood. He concedes that the strong gods are dangerous gods who may become idols, but

Misjudging lesser goods as the highest good (the essence of idolatry) always remains a danger. But the unstated premise behind Return of the Strong Gods [the book to which this essay is a preface] is that life without love is a greater evil than life in which finite loves are made absolute.

To this claim, the Christian might well respond that if both are evil, better to avoid both rather than merely the greater. Apparently anticipating this response, Reno goes on,

Let me issue my own theological warning: Beware iconoclasm. It is a heresy born of the fantasy that we can eliminate the possibility of idolatry by destroying every object of love other than the highest, which is God. 

This, in my view, the natural endpoint both of Reno's way of thinking and of the Roman Catholicism to which he converted some years ago: an obviously Biblical virtue is called a heresy. For what is iconoclasm but the smashing of idols, and what is the smashing of idols but sanctified obedience to the Second Commandment? 

Iconoclasm swept Europe as it entered its Christian Era, and the boldest fathers of presbyterianism, Ulrich Zwingli and John Knox, were iconoclasts in word and deed. As I have argued repeatedly in my own dialogues with Roman Catholics, iconoclasm is necessary to Protestantism. On the other hand, iconolatry and idolatry have overwhelmed Roman Catholicism as, for example, disordered love for glorified saints such as the mother of our Lord has crowded out all-consuming love for her son.

Life without love is evil, and life consumed by disordered love is evil. For love to be rightly ordered, it must be directed toward Jesus Christ. Europe entered its Christian era when the princes became Christian and the Church supplanted empire as the continent's great unifying power. Our culture indeed needs strong love: a love which hates false gods, strong or otherwise, and is monomaniacally preoccupied with the only truly worthy object of all love, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Carl Trueman gets weird

 If the Gospel Coalition's website is a reliable indicator, Carl Trueman's recent "The Failure of Evangelical Elites" in First Things has garnered thoughtful attention. I'm not sure why.

Trueman's thesis appears in the essay's second paragraph: "accommodation appeals to those who seek a seat at the table among ­society’s elite." "Those" are the university-educated elites of evangelicalism who, as he puts it later on, "[talk] in an outraged voice about racism within the boundaries set by the woke culture." From these statements and from the rest of the essay, Trueman clearly suspects their motives. Is he being fair or reasonable?

Trueman begins his discussion with Friedrich Schleiermacher, who made a great show of challenging liberal protestantism while conceding, upholding and endorsing all its tenets. While "On Religion: Speeches to Its Cultured Despisers" is a truly awesome polemical title, the actual content was the exact opposite. From Schleiermacher, Trueman moves on to Mark Noll and George Marsden, who in the 1990s made a compelling argument for the recovery of Christian intellectualism in these United States. On the one hand, Trueman affirms the legitimacy and orthodoxy of that project ("And unlike ­Schleiermacher’s, I find their arguments convincing."), but with the other he denies it ("Nevertheless, a sociological comparison of their project with Schleiermacher’s is legitimate.") With this move, evangelical intellectuals "committed to a thoroughgoing supernatural Christian orthodoxy" are nonetheless associated with protestant liberalism, a counterfeit of the Christian faith.

This is guilt by association. Not only is it not nice, it's a logical fallacy.

Trueman makes a valid point when he considers the example of Francis Collins, the evangelical scientist who is head of the National Institutes of Health. Indeed, one might reasonably hope an agency headed by a faithful Christian would not so enthusiastically sponsor the use of genetic material taken from aborted babies in research and development. However, the pointedness drifts when he begins writing about "evangelical elites" and "Christian leaders." He may have specific persons in mind, but by not naming names, one is unable to check whether certain persons are actually the mealy-mouthed compromisers he implies they are.

Rhetorically, we call this a "glittering generality," which also happens to be a logical fallacy.

Trueman seems very annoyed by evangelicals who call for repentance from America's original sin of racism without simultaneously denouncing abortion and gender dysphoria affirmation. The money line in this piece comes toward the close.

Let me put it bluntly: Talking in an outraged voice about racism within the boundaries set by the woke culture is an excellent way of not talking about the pressing moral issues on which ­Christianity and the culture are opposed to each other: LGBTQ+ rights and abortion.

That sounds really good, until one remembers that Carl Trueman is a confessional presbyterian writing for a journal which toes the most Tridentine Roman Catholic line possible without drifting into outright Lefebvrism. To illustrate, I suggest a rewrite.

Let me put it bluntly: Talking in an outraged voice about evangelicals who oppose racism within the boundaries set by an apostate Anglican conservative Roman Catholic editor is an excellent way of not talking about the pressing theological issues on which ­Protestantism and Romanism are opposed to each other: justification by faith alone and the sole authority of Scripture.

In other words, Carl Trueman finds working with papists a rewarding and helpful way to promote ideas near and dear to him; he doesn't need to prosecute the material causes of the Protestant Reformation (i.e. the doctrines on which the faith stands or falls) at every turn. Good for him! Is it not possible that some of his coreligionists find working with secularists a rewarding and helpful way to promote ideas near and dear to them?

If I may point out the obvious, Mr. Trueman's lived experience in these United States is in the suburban outposts of Pennsylvania's two largest cities. His concerns about these United States, gathered from that lived experience, are entirely valid. At the same time, so are the concerns of those of us who have lived in parts of the United States which are not Pennsylvania. In fact, I tend to agree with many "evangelical elites" who think it is possible, and even necessary, to make inroads against systemic racism even if one is not directly addressing abortion on demand.

In sum, Carl Trueman's argument is just plain odd: anti-Trump evangelicals are posers petitioning for worldly acceptance because they argue against racism without, in the exact same breath, denouncing abortion on demand and LGBTQ+ rights. To put it mildly, I am not persuaded.

While I am a natural-born U.S. citizen under color of law, I was not born on American soil and so try to believe that other late-comers to our shores may understand our great country and her citizens, Christian or otherwise. At the present moment, Carl Trueman is not making that easy.

You say you want an eschaton

I can't be the only reactionary hard-shell Calvinist who misses Marxism's rhetorical domination of the educated elites. I enjoyed having a vocabulary in common with my opponents on the left. In particular, I really liked talking about what would happen when the Revolution comes (as in, "When the Revolution comes, the Republicans will be the first with their backs up against the wall." Ah, the good old days.). In the Marxist cosmos, "the Revolution" is that glorious impending moment in which the proletariat will rise up against their bourgeois oppressors, seize the means of production, and usher in an age of harmony and peace in a finally-classless society.

As a (nearly-)infinite number of Christian critics have noted, the Revolution is Marx's eschaton, his endpoint of history and new golden age. In that sense, Marxism is just another Christian heresy. In Christian orthodoxy, human history ends in Christ's return, the end of the present evil age, and our Lord's establishment of the new heavens and earth in which peace and justice reign. Marx (conveniently) removes Jesus and divine intervention from the scenario, but he does teach his students to look forward to an age of peace and justice.

Marx's vision will never, ever be achieved until the Revolution comes. (For what it's worth, I rather doubt it will.) Conversely, while the Christian eschaton is utterly dependent on the Lord's good pleasure to inaugurate it, it nonetheless is manifested in the present by the Christian's faith. "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1) Along with the Old Testament saints, we are called to live in the present as though we already live in the age to come, according to the values of the city which has foundations (Hebrews 11-12). In other words, we are to live according to the Biblical principles of peace and justice now, even though they will not be rightly, fully, or permanently established until our Lord returns in glory.

Which brings us (at long last) to my point: an inaugurated eschatology requires the Christian to maintain a commitment to social justice. The perfect social justice of the new heavens and earth is not yet, but must be already present in the political agenda which the Christian pursues. Christians may, and certainly will, disagree as to how to pragmatically and prudentially pursue social justice in this present age; indeed, they often disagree as to what social justice even looks like. Nonetheless, whether they find themselves on the left or right of the political spectrum, whether they are politically active or inactive (or, in my case, only a reluctant voter), they must be bound by a desire to bring about as much social justice as is possible in this fallen world.

Accordingly, it is wrong, bordering on eschatologically heretical, to assert that Christians ought not be concerned with or driven by social justice. At their very best, such critiques evidence a rather poor grasp of Biblical eschatology.

I don't know

Just found this while going through some old pictures: it's from a form we were asked to fill out for the county while Thing 3 was in therapy a few years ago. On the one hand, I suppose not knowing your child's gender might well explain why said child needs therapy. On the other hand, I am sure this is proof the end truly is nigh.

Standard time in the summer time!

Well, okay, it's technically late spring, but it's pretty hot out here in Arizona. This year for our family vacation, I decided to bring the curmudgelings to the only place in the continental United States where they could still experience time in the manner in which it was created to be experienced, without the onerous and rebellious hand of the federal government interfering with our precious religious liberties.

It being Father's Day and everything, I thought it important to set an example of patriarchal excellence for my vast legion of readers to emulate. Don't let Daylight Stupid Time oppress your family any longer!

[While we're here, Mrs. Curmudgeon mentioned something about visiting a "grand canyon." Still not sure about her priorities.]

"Masterpiece Cakeshop" as a harbinger of defeat

First Things posted excellent analyses of the recent Masterpiece Cakeshop Supreme Court decision by R.R. Reno, Hadley Arkes, and Darel E. Paul last week. As Paul notes, the extremely narrow decision, written by Justice Anthony Kennedy, does not represent a victory for religious liberty but instead is a "harbinger of defeat."

Masterpiece Cakeshop is owned by baker Jack Phillips, who declined to make a custom wedding cake for a homosexual couple due to his Christian convictions. The couple complained to the Colorado Civil Rights Commission, which held against him. Phillips made his appeal primarily on free speech grounds: namely, were he to be required to design a cake which promoted a point of view to which he objects, that would be a form of state-compelled speech. Curiously, the religious liberty question receded to the background of the case. Yet more curiously, Kennedy's ruling addressed neither of these First Amendment issues, but instead overturned the Commission because one of its commissioners spoke of Phillips' religious convictions in disparaging terms.

In other words, as Reno puts it, the Commission failed to be sufficiently nice for Kennedy's tastes. But as Reno argues,

So Kennedy has always been deluded. Every use of anti-discrimination rhetoric necessarily demonizes those who do not join the chorus of affirmation. …The Colorado commissioner who implied that Jack Phillips was “despicable” was simply following through on the cultural logic. Kennedy is kidding himself if he thinks he can use the postwar anti-discrimination tradition to empower the LGBT agenda—while at the same time preventing religious believers and others from being attacked legally, economically, and culturally.

The commentary on Slate's "Amicus" podcast supported Reno's point when Dahlia Lithwick and Mark Joseph Stern described the commissioner's comments as reasonable characterizations. When reading the various opinions from the Supreme Court justices, it appears the majority of the Court differs from the Colorado Civil Rights Commission not on substance, but on style. That offers little hope for those of us who agree with Jack Phillips.

The Hon. Steve Hogan

Steve Hogan, mayor of my hometown of Aurora, Colorado, died yesterday. He went fast; it was only two months ago he announced he had cancer. I didn't know him well, but he struck me as a kind and decent man. 

When my Cub Scout den was required to visit a public official, I found the mayor's e-mail address on the Aurora government website. I was surprised that he personally replied to my request, given that Aurora is the 54th largest city in these United States. He took it upon himself to meet my Cub Scouts on a Monday evening and personally gave us a tour of the city council chambers, the municipal building, and his office. He was patient with my boys, who seemed most interested in a candy dish.

I'm sorry he's gone. We need more of his sort in high office and public life.

A word to the historically ignorant

Perhaps you, like I, have heard it asserted that yesterday was the first time ever a Vice-President broke a tie vote in the U.S. Senate to confirm a Cabinet nominee.

To which I can only say, balderdash and folderol! First time ever, my foot!

That is precisely the determinative plot point in Advise and Consent! (The film version, at least. I think the book had somewhat different conclusion.) What are they teaching in high school civics classes these days?

Oh, wait. There are no high school civics classes these days.

On boycotting

In "Why I Won't Boycott Target," Russell E. Saltzman, a blogger for the First Things website, thoughtfully reflects on who is most adversely affected, and who benefits, from boycotts of large corporations. It's a helpful reminder that our politics should be guided as much by a consideration of the needs of our fellow Church members as the desire to make a statement.

OPC FG XXXI, 5

As you are no doubt aware, chapter XXXI, 5 of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church's Form of Government clearly states that local congregations, and not presbyteries nor the General Assembly, have control over their own local properties. It's there because, as I hope you're aware, when the congregations which would become the OPC seceded from the old Presbyterian Church U.S.A. (often because their pastors had come under Church discipline for not affirming theological liberalism), the national denomination asserted ownership of their buildings and property. Often these congregations were sued in the civil courts; shockingly, the local congregation won control of their property only once, even though in every case the properties had been bought and paid for by the local members, not the national denomination.

This sad history is playing itself out again as the "mainline" denominations take another decisive step away from the historic Christian faith. (In the twentieth century, they denied essential Christian doctrine; in the twenty-first, essential Christian ethics. Since the Church has historically been defined first by doctrine and second by ethics, one wonders what of "Christian" is left to these "churches.") As homosexual marriage and ordination are institutionalized, another wave of congregations is seceding and is losing their properties. This week's Research on Religion podcast focuses on a law review article by Michael McConnell and Luke Goodrich, "On Resolving Church Property Disputes," which suggests ways in which civil courts can take a genuinely neutral approach to litigants in these cases. OPC history is not mentioned, but the Form of Government of our sister Church, the Presbyterian Church in America, does get a shout-out.

Of course, the very fact national denominations are taking local congregations to the civil courts is a manifest sign of their failure as Churches (1 Corinthians 6:1-8). This grasping after the things of this world is also what makes me laugh through my tears whenever a liberal protestant postures her or his communion as being much nicer than my own

hide-bound, reactionary fellowship.

In praise of legislative inefficiency

In response to complaints by President Clinton over the U.S. Congress's reluctance to swiftly enact this or that agenda, Bob Dole once said, "One man's gridlock is another man's checks and balances." The peculiar genius of the American federal system of legislation (laws must be passed by two  separate legislative houses [and generally, each law must first be vetted by at least one committee in each of said legislative houses], then approved by the president) is its inefficiency: it's blastedly difficult to get much of anything over all those hurdles. This is a perverse, but remarkably brilliant, defense against bad laws.

Another, more noble view is that all those mechanisms allow for legislative wisdom to be applied through a process of careful deliberation. At the First Things website, M. Anthony Mills uses a profile of Nebraska senator Benjamin Sasse to discuss the political utility, and genuine conservatism, of legislative deliberation.

The Republic may be restored yet.

Voter identification & American identity

My media consumption habits led my meandering thoughts into some surprising confluences yesterday. Whilst working out, I listened to a Center for Global Development podcast in which two researchers pointed out that progress toward the U.N.'s Sustainable Development Goals cannot be measured unless all persons in the developing world have a legal form of identification, beginning with registration at birth. The contrarian I am, I immediately began wondering about the people who might not want to be registered at birth. (Let the record show Pa Curmudgeon was careful to register me as a natural-born U.S. citizen under color of law, and I have the State Department-issued piece of paper to prove it.) 

I remembered Robert Heinlein, the Ayn Rand of science fiction, whose work I read avidly in high school until it dawned on me that his exaltation of the heroic individual was profoundly anti-humanist. But while I was still an adolescent, I read, in any number of forms, Heinlein's argument that the truly free individual will abandon any society which makes legal identification mandatory. Objectivism aside, this always seemed to me a very American concept: the individual should not be hindered by the regulatory government, even when the individual runs the very serious risk of endangering himself.

Then I opened up the December 8 Denver Post to an article on the living situation of Robert Dear, now infamous for shooting up a Planned Parenthood clinic in Colorado Springs a couple weeks ago. Reporter Kirk Mitchell visited the plains of Hartsel, Colorado, a desolate, utilities-free place where newcomers squat in trailers and makeshift fortresses of dubious structural integrity on plots of land bought in order to strike it rich in marijuana cultivation. (No one has yet struck it rich, by the way.) I'm a big fan of the electrical grid and indoor plumbing, so the lifestyle doesn't appeal to me, but there's something very American, and definitely western, about people willing to suffer any adversity in their attempt to live their lives as they choose.

Out here in the Great American Desert, we tend to associate that instinct with conservatism, and conservatism tends to be associated primarily with the Republican party. As I was eating my raisin bran (I'm at an age at which fiber intake becomes a controlling priority), I thought it ironic conservative Republicans are insisting that people must have a government-issued identification card in order to vote. Call me naïve, but it doesn't seem very conservative, or even very American, to ask the government permission to exercise a personal, unalienable right.

The new pilgrims & the rule of law

The Sept. 20 edition (I'm only a month behind in podcast listening!) of Research on Religion was a discussion with Joseph Castleberry on his recent book, The New Pilgrims. The discussion focused primarily on the religious and entrepreneurial vitality of both legal and illegal immigrants to these United States, and to that extent was interesting, but not particularly revelatory.

Things got interesting toward the end of the podcast. Many political and social conservatives oppose illegal immigrants on the simple ground that they have violated the law. Castleberry offers an intriguing counterproposal: the rule of law is a two-sided arrangement wherein the citizen (or individual) ought to obey the laws, and the government is obligated to provide just laws. Castleberry noted the widespread consensus that immigration law in these United States is "broken" and offered a skeptical read on both Democrat and Republican Party failures to reform it. In sum, Castleberry suggests that when a law is unjust, individuals ought not be faulted for breaking it.

It's a provocative observation which echoes the arguments posited in our nation's Declaration of Independence. Political and social conservatives, including Christians, who revere that Declaration would do well to consider it.

Goliath

Tom Gauld isn’t challenging the 1 Samuel 17 account of the events at the Valley of Elah, but he is asking us to consider our assumptions about Goliath of Gath. The truth of the matter is that he’s not even really interested in the historical person Goliath; instead, he’s interested in the reality and prosecution of war.

Neither Goliath nor the rest of the Philistine army seem to have much idea as to why they’re at war with the Israelites; instead, they, like armies throughout history, wait for the fighting to erupt under a vague sense of foreboding. Goliath himself ends up at a post he didn’t choose, under orders devised by an ambitious young captain. Back in the camp, some other soldiers have tied up a bear which they force to fight various other animals for sport and gambling; that literal bear becomes a metaphor when it runs away.

I always read comic books at least twice (mostly because I can’t keep myself from quickly turning pages to read dialogue, without paying sufficient heed to the art). On my second read, I made sure to go through the whole book in a single sitting so as to track Gauld’s development of the atmosphere without interruption. A plot summary cannot convey the melancholy tones conveyed by Tom Gauld’s monochromatic, cartoonish line drawings. Why doesn’t Goliath also run away? Why does any soldier in any war remain at his post, when he is at best a mere cog in a machine and a disposable weapon for a cause which means precious little to him personally? When Goliath must finally enter battle, the war is settled, but his death resolves nothing for him as an individual.

In Goliath, Tom Gauld asks us to join him in reflecting on what it means to ask men to go to war. In our time as much as any, it’s an invitation we all should accept.

The case for reparations

Quite some time ago, I concluded, with Abraham Lincoln in his Second Inaugural Address, that the Lord has already determined, and wrought, the reparations owed for the years of American chattel slavery. Credit is owed to Ta-Nehisi Coates for accomplishing the near-impossible feat of making me reconsider an opinion with his Polk-prize-winning 2014 essay, "The Case for Reparations." He powerfully demonstrates that systematic oppression of African-Americans continued long past the formal end of chattel slavery, effectively countering my assumptions regarding that for which African-Americans might be owed reparation. It's a long read, but Coates' arguments are thoughtful and deserve thoughtful engagement.

What reparations, then? How might they be gathered, administered, and distributed? Is money even the issue? At the end of section IX, Coates writes,

What I’m talking about is more than recompense for past injustices—more than a handout, a payoff, hush money, or a reluctant bribe. What I’m talking about is a national reckoning that would lead to spiritual renewal. Reparations would mean the end of scarfing hot dogs on the Fourth of July while denying the facts of our heritage. Reparations would mean the end of yelling “patriotism” while waving a Confederate flag. Reparations would mean a revolution of the American consciousness, a reconciling of our self-image as the great democratizer with the facts of our history.

Amen.

But how to effect such a spiritual renewal? Nate DiMeo, creator and producer of the elegant and wonderful The Memory Palace, has a suggestion in "Notes on an Imagined Plaque to be Added to the Statue of General Nathan Bedford Forrest, Upon Hearing that the Memphis City Counci has Voted to Move it and the Exhumed Remains of General Forrest and his Wife, Mary Ann Montgomery Forrest, from their Current Location in a Park Downtown, to the Nearby Elmwood Cemetery." DiMeo and Coates agree that in order for our nation to truly change, we must first become historically aware.

But that, in turn, must be a spiritual renewal. Our nation must want to become historically aware, to know its sins in order to make amends for them. Those who want to know their sins are those who want to repent of them because they long to lay them at the foot of the Cross of Christ.

Both Ta-Nehisi Coates and Nate DiMeo speak eloquently of the persistent and evil problem of race relations in these United States. Perhaps unwittingly, the case they make is, ultimately, a case for the preaching of the Gospel.

A debate over abortion & adoption

I just stumbled on a fascinating debate over abortion and adoption at the First Things website. In "Adoption, Abortion, and a Message of Hope," J.D. Flynn argues that pro-lifers overemphasize adoption as an alternative to women considering an abortion. These two paragraphs toward the close struck me:

Unfortunately, our views on adoption can be colored by our consumerist culture. Out of real generosity, families are often willing to expend huge sums of money to adopt a child. But in justice, we ought to ask what the same amount of money might do to preserve a child’s natural family, and whether we’re willing to provide it.

Of course, adoption sometimes really is the best choice. When parents decide that, we should support it. But we should begin our charitable support by working to preserve the natural family through the solidarity, and charity, that combats the fractioning and isolation of the culture of death.

Well said, although I feel compelled to point out that those huge sums of money (also often spent on infertility treatments) can be saved by those willing to consider the non-white children in the American foster systems who desperately need a real home. My compulsion is echoed by the less eloquent, but no less forceful, "We Need to Talk About Adoption" by Elizabeth Kirk. Her point is simple: given that over a million babies are aborted in this country each year, and that less than 20,000 newborns are placed for adoption, we need to talk much, much more about adoption.

7. We are not financially prepared for the coming persecution

I’m not the first to note that the recent Supreme Court ruling in Obergefell vs. Hodges may presage hard times ahead for Churches. Harsh persecution in these United States, such as imprisonment or martyrdom, is wildly unlikely. However, it seems reasonable to expect extant civil rights laws and court precedents to be applied to the prosecution of the “right” to recognition of same-sex marriages. For example, other jurisdictions may follow the New York City decision to refuse to rent public school space to Churches. Similarly, the tax-exempt status of organizations which oppose this new “civil right” may also be threatened at the federal or state level. Such actions would create heavier financial obligations for religious organizations and Churches, as might lawsuits. (Legal bills can run up very quickly.) I should also point out that currently pastor’s salaries are discounted because what they get paid for housing expenses is tax-free: should that exemption disappear, salaries would have to increase to compensate for the additional tax burden.

We may be prepared to surrender our bodies to the flames, but are we prepared with enough money to pay higher rents, tax bills, and pastor’s salaries?

A colleague from my presbytery recently remarked to me that the way we have been “doing Church” in our ecclesiastical circles for the last several decades may soon turn out to be a luxury we can no longer afford.