Happy Fourth of July

I made it to the White House and the United States Capitol for the first time earlier this year.  I was traveling with my family for a long weekend to Washington, D.C.  I must admit that I was pretty taken with the imagery and architecture of the seat of our republic.

I had been to the city once before, but not to those two buildings.  I had seen and entered all of the memorials on the National Mall and stood in awe of the American Ebenezers to Thomas Jefferson and Martin Luther King, all under the watch of the Washington Monument, of course, and the reminder of what kind of men built this country -- and the missteps along the way to get here. 

It was the right time for me, though, because I was consuming a lot of media about history, in particular the American and French Revolutions.  When considering the historical context of what political theory was like in Europe in the 18th Century, the United States of America is a gigantic human leap forward.  The mission statement captured in the Declaration of Independence set a goal for us all to strive for -- that all of us are equal and made that way by powers greater than any earthly institutions and any governments that interfere with those rights are illegitimate.  It was, of course, also fraught with internal contradictions.  Just like all of us still are.

Without that historical context, it is easy to overlook how significant the articulation of these ideas were.  The American Revolution was revolutionary in many senses of the word, since the major powers on the European Continent were still ruled by monarchs invested by divine right (and so were those across the world in Asia, for that matter).  The failures of the French Revolution that looked to ours and reached out for the same liberty we now enjoyed showed how fragile those ideas are and how lucky we were to have the men named on the Mall.  The expression "the Revolution eats its children" comes from this period in France.  The sins of America were different ones than the French, but our guiding principles at least identified a North Star for us (and those for whom the promise of the Declaration was cruelly and immorally excluded) to sail towards.  There was no Reign of Terror to devour our own.  At least, not in the same way.  Our Reign of Terror was an issue of our ideals not being shared with all of our sons and daughters; France's was about which ideals should actually count.

There are two places on the National Mall that made me cry both times: the Lincoln Memorial and the Vietnam War Memorial.  The Lincoln Memorial stands as a testament that this project, imperfect in execution as it was, is worth preserving, at the expense of blood.  Engraved inside the classical temple are Lincoln's two greatest speeches -- among anyone's greatest speeches -- defending the virtue of republican self-government and advocating magnanimity to the enemy, our own countrymen, at the conclusion of the bloody surgery of exorcising part of America's fallen nature.  The moral stain of slavery was not completely cleansed after the conclusion of the Civil War, but the sails of the ship of state tacked closer to Jefferson's North Star.

The Vietnam Memorial is different.  While the Lincoln Memorial is theoretical and high minded, the Vietnam War Memorial is clinical in its groundedness. It is a relentless reminder of just what war costs as after each step the names just keep coming, the wall getting taller, and deeper.  It is taller than you are before you reach the halfway point.  It also serves the aching realization that there is no Second Inaugural Address, no end of slavery, no clear hard won prize purchased with the dearly spent lives.  It is a reminder that "progress" does not necessarily trend in a one to one ratio with the axis of time, as much as our optimism (and etchings on our hero's monuments) wants it to, without effort.  The arc of the moral universe is long, but there is no gravitational center without principled people bending it.

At the same time our states were warring against themselves, France had slipped into a Second -- Second -- Empire; their republican ideals did not stick.  Let us not forget this Fourth of July what we have been bequeathed by our forefathers.  It includes all of us, of every ethnicity, creed, and sex.  All men, endowed by our Creator.  It is our birthright.  Those values are worth preserving.  They are worth advancing.  They are rare.  And they are easy to lose.

Sins are bad, mmkay

One of the prongs of a recent political discussion has been clanging around in my head, and I have not been able to quite put it to rest.  It comes from the role of faith in politics and the perception that its presence leads to  oppression, if not specifically targeted at disadvantaged groups, then effectively so -- primarily women and homosexuals.  Since this discussion was concerning American politics, it was really in regards to Christianity.


It bugged me, because Christianity, if properly understood, has no room for that.  When it enters politics, though, that's a different story -- Theodosius's decision to establish Christianity in the 4th Century created a new privileged class within the Roman Empire and Europe hasn't been the same since and, unfortunately, frequently not for the better.  This gets to the issue of "religion" vs. "faith" and, while seemingly nuanced, is significant.


This is important to me because this image that became presented, one of an oppressive and restricting Christianity is not the same image that I have of it in my experience.  Christianity is primarily about love and forgiveness, because each of us has found love and forgiveness through Christ based on His mercy and nothing to do with our actions.  That mercy extends to anyone who seeks it -- regardless of color, gender, sexual preference, or behavioral history.  That is, it is entirely inclusive to anyone, so long as a relationship with Christ is pursued.  That's at the heart of John 3:16, the verse that nearly everyone has heard at least once. Additionally, when asked what the most important commandment is, Jesus answers with love God -- and the second, love your neighbors (Matthew 22:35-40).  


Christianity has no inherent political aims within its scripture, really highlighted by Matthew 22:21, "Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto God the things that are God's."  We have applied a rather crude litmus test to our politics to require the appearance of Christian faith from our leaders whether they really believe it or not.  It is very important to note that there are a number of ways that belief manifests itself, we are all sinners and no one really knows another's heart, so it is difficult to say who falls in which category, but the more vocal certainly get tougher scrutiny.


Rick Perry is an example of such a candidate.  One of the issues that he put front and center in his ad entitled, "Strong" is one that really gives credence, unfortunately, to the position I am trying to argue against.  He opens with a volley against homosexuals, which is a controversial subject.  I think that Christians and homosexuals frequently get hung up on another way out of proportion to the need.  While there is ample scriptural evidence that points to homosexual behavior as being sinful, it's also important to note other common things that are sinful: divorce, gossip, not giving freely, greed, and putting God to the test.  There aren't really protests of objection against divorce courts, celebrity tabloids, politicians who claim to be faithful but are not with their money when their tax returns are released, television shows that have a character make a deal with God or threaten Him with unbelief unless some desired outcome is reached with nearly the enthusiasm that religious people go after homosexuals.


This sort of public reaction that we do see begs the question that some sins are worse than others.  That is a rather nuanced theological question, but ultimately, sin is failing to meet God's expectations, and failure is failure.  In order to reach fellowship with God, we need forgiveness from that failure, and Christ is the vehicle God provided to achieve that, out of God the Father's love for humanity.  (See Romans 6:23.)  Every sin is a source of separation from God -- a lack of Christlike perfection -- so we are all in this boat together.  The very powerful story of Jesus and the sinful woman in John 8:2-11 shows us that we are not able to judge and should not.  By judging, we are assuming for ourselves the role of God the Son, which is also sinful.

Now, this isn't to say that we shouldn't object to sinful behavior.  The charge for Christians to share our story (Matthew 28:16-20) is based on a sense that we have something valuable -- a relationship with Christ, a loving God -- that others might want.  It is a path to redemption, truth, and freedom.  Sinful behavior is an obstacle to achieving that relationship, and not loving people is unmistakably contrary to God's will.

Tradition!

So, this morning, I wanted to take in a piece of Charleston history when I went to church. I headed to First Baptist Charleston, because it's 4th of July weekend and this church predates the country. (The preacher casually mentioned that this church donated its treasury to the Revolution. The American Revolution. The one that started in 1775.) The subject of the sermon was Christian liberty (with the primary citation of Romans 14:1-4), which is never an easy topic to cover, since one thing that people love to do, Christians or not, is to remind themselves that they're better than everyone else. (You think I am unable to button my own pants? Well, at least I don't wear spray deodorant.)

He mentioned the usual historical examples that we all laugh about as adorably out of date now, like dancing and playing cards and makeup and whatever. (I do kind of wonder how many of the average church goers ever obeyed those things; but back then, there was no World Series of Poker on tv, so I guess the temptation was a little easier to take. On the other hand, if Maverick is any representation of reality, then poker was way more awesome in the 19th Century.) Baptists aren't nearly as anti-dance in our platform as we used to be. One of the other things, though, that always comes up for Christians in general and Baptists in particular is the booze.

It is an true and actual struggle for Christians (or, at least, ones I know) because we have those very concepts shown in Romans 14, but we also have 1 Corinthians 6:12. I am "permitted" to eat Doritos and chocolate chips for breakfast everyday, but that doesn't mean it's a good idea. I personally am rather fond of craft beers and fancy whiskeys (note the "e" in whiskey). Today's message, where the preacher says that "strong drink" is never ok, made me think. If I have a single barrel bourbon in my pantry, am I abusing that liberty? Is it more ok if I don't drink often, or ever to excess? Or is this rationalizing in the way that people just say that the prohibition on sex outside of marriage is an anachronism, because they just want to do it? Christianity is hard.

I don't know the answer. There is scripture that can be used to justify both sides. I think the thing we know for sure is that abuse of alcohol is clearly bad, in the same way that abusing credit, dancing, cheeseburgers or football could be -- if it interferes with your ability to live your life and maintain your relationships (especially with Christ) then it's bad. I also think culture is important; if there is a problem where makeup indicates something un-Christian, then setting oneself apart by not wearing makeup might be a worthwhile thing for a church to urge. But we can't lose sight of the why, since we can do something stupid repeatedly for no real reason, just because we always have, like watch the newer Star Wars movies.