Something quite astounding happened the other day. I had been hearing of the various details involved with the Obergefell v. Hodges case, but I had not realized that a decision had been made... until I got on Facebook. Suddenly - and quite suddenly indeed - I found myself in a nation in which same-sex marriage is legal.
Even more surprisingly - and this was to me a real shocker - I found myself in support of the ruling*.
(*As you will see further on, this statement refers specifically to the ruling of the Supreme Court, not to same-sex marriage itself.)
Now, I find this altogether baffling. When I first came to know Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, I had been taught that the legalization of same-sex marriage was just another sign of the Lord's Return, or another sign of the utter destruction of our nation, or another sign of God's coming wrath and judgment upon America. So, when I was in high school and in college and I would hear about "equality legislation" or whatnot, I thought to myself: "What nonsense! This is another sign that our nation is going downhill."
Yet last week, when I heard that same-sex marriage bans had been removed, I found myself nodding and saying "Yes, that makes sense." I am still finding this a little strange. So, for my own sake and for your sake - because I consider you a friend, and I don't want you to be misled or confused by why I say these things - I am writing this (hopefully) short little treatise on Christianity, Homosexuality, Democracy, and that tricky little matter of the Separation of Church and State.
(My wife, Hannah Grace Caveny, and her sister, Diedra Weaver, have both blogged about the more important related matter: that is, the Gospel and how we as Christians need to respond to the homosexual community. You can read their posts here and here.)
So, first I want to lay out my two fundamental claims which inform how I feel about the SCOTUS ruling:
First: homosexual activity is sinful according to the Bible. I cannot engage in this conversation without that very, very important clarity. God's intended purpose for human sexuality is either for committed, monogamous, marriage between a man and a woman, or lifelong celibacy. Both the Old Testament and New Testament make these claims, and they all point directly to the detail of the institution of marriage in Genesis 2.
Since my purpose in this blog post is distinctly about the SCOTUS ruling, I will not elaborate more on this here. That being said, there is much more complication involved than this simple statement belies, and it certainly stirs up more questions than it reveals. For example, some would argue that the SCOTUS ruling is a sign that our country has forsaken God. Others would argue that homosexual tendencies are natural. These sorts of questions and challenges are real challenges and deserve real responses. I'm not going to give them real responses in this post. I am simply going to focus on the SCOTUS ruling itself.
(I wrote this three years ago in light of the Chic-fil-a controversy; it's feels old for me, but it is certainly helpful in light of such conversations.)
Second: it is not good for our country to legislate against the homosexual lifestyle.
It is that second claim that is more controversial within my Christian demographic. A simple glance through Facebook reveals a lot of what I had been taught long ago: "If we continue on this direction, the wrath of God is against us!" or "This is a sign that Jesus is coming soon!" (Which, by the by, read Matthew 24. Jesus doesn't say anywhere that "people will marry homosexuals" as He promises His return. Goodness gracious.)
Why do I think it is actually a good thing for our country to remove same-sex marriage bans? Well, to start with, I think it's vitally important to differentiate (as C.S. Lewis does in Mere Christianity; see below) between a legal definition of marriage and the biblical one. The United States government is not a Christian government; it is a secular democracy. As such, when it defines the term "marriage" it cannot ever be talking about the same term "marriage" as Christians discuss. Those two terms are ideologically separate.
Now, this is quite important. The Founding Fathers, having reflected on the sort of government they wanted to form and seeing the issues in the Christianized kingdoms of Europe (Britain, Germany, Spain, and France prior to the Revolution), decided to make America a distinctly secular democratic state, in which there is a separation between the Church and the State. This separation was actually quite applauded and celebrated until more recently; it seems that only within the past century have Christians held the stance that the separation is harmful to the Christian faith.
This is blatantly inconsistent with that separation's purpose. In England, the King (who was Head of the Church of England) could legislate theology. In other words, if the King didn't like... oh, say... the Puritans!... he could make a law say that people with Puritan theology could be sent to jail. And some were (like, for instance, my great-grandfather x14 Rev. Francis Marbury). The opposite sort of power was also true: if church officials could make a theological case for the removal of this-or-that political opponent, then they could influence the rulers to do their bidding.
This sort of politico-theological corruption is in fundamental opposition to the Kingdom of God! It is worth noting that Jesus never aims to replace Caesar with Himself. Nor does He fight Herod for the title "King of the Jews." Nevertheless, the situation in England (as well as in other European nations) up through the Revolutionary War was one of warring political powers using theology as a tool of power.
As such, the Founding Fathers made great stakes to avoid this Scylla and Charybdis of Theology and Politics. In founding America, nothing further from a theocracy was in their minds. They distinctly formed a secular democracy, aware their citizenry was a religiously-diverse community: Christians of various backgrounds (Roman Catholics, German Lutherans, Episcopals, Baptists, Puritans, &c. &c.), non-Christians like Deists and Atheists, and pseudo-Christian Cults like the Shakers.
This is certainly an ideologically-difficult mire to consider. As Christians, we would certainly like to think that theology is of the utmost importance (and it is certainly on the top five, if you ask me). So "minor details" of this or that theology are a big deal to the Christian person. Baptism by immersion or by sprinkling; transubstantiation or emblems; how many Sacraments are there?; the two Natures of Christ; the Trinity; &c. &c. These matters are of actual importance to the Christian person, let's not lose track of that.
But to the secular political government, these controversies and differences are of no value. The secular political government is founded upon the Constitution, and that Constitution exists to defend the rights of the citizens of its nation. And those rights are irregardless of a person's theological convictions.
This is a good thing. Imagine, if you will, that my wife and I (were non-denominational evangelicals; we believe in baptism by immersion for confessing believers) lived in, say, "Catholic America," where Roman Catholicism had utter rule over the legislation in the country. They could say that the right to marry is only allowed for those who were baptized as infants, as Roman Catholics are. Or that Protestants can be fined for not attending Mass, just like how Catholics were fined for not attending Anglican services in he late 1500s. Yeah, yeah, this is silly - Italy and Spain never got this intense! (It is thought-provoking that all of the members of this SCOTUS are either Catholic or Jewish. I'm glad none of them think it their duty to expunge evangelicalism from American history!)
C.S. Lewis famously once put it this way: "At least I know I should be very angry if the Mohammedans tried to prevent the rest of us from drinking wine." (Mere Christianity) An amusing statement, but a very real concern if someone were to live in an Islamic society. (I had read this quote before, and in searching for it online found an article, not ironically, about this very subject!)
I could go on with examples of why the secular democracy cannot endorse theology in its legislation. The point of the matter is that in the eyes of a secular government (which exists for the purpose of guarding the rights of all its citizens) theological matters cannot be used to determine the rights of legislation. (And all of my theonomist and dominion theology readers said "noooooooooo!") Otherwise, this or that theological opinion could have authority. I'm glad that teacher-led prayer is not allowed in public schools - because I don't want my children to be read a Mormon hymn or a Buddhist chant to start their morning!!!
Finally, why, then, do I support the ruling of the SCOTUS? Okay, maybe it makes sense to have the above-detailed political philosophy, maybe you can see my point. But "support" sounds strong. Do I "support" gay marriage? Do I "support" homosexuality activity? Isn't "supporting" the SCOTUS ruling antagonistic with my aforementioned Christian beliefs?
You see, I see this political situation in the exact opposite view that the mainstream Christian community seems to see it. So many see it as a "slippery slope" and a "downhill slide," or that soon enough the government will be requiring the churches to perform gay marriages (... ... uhm, I can't really see how they would get around... the First Amendment).
On the contrary! Any time the SCOTUS rules in such a manner that protects one people group's civil liberties, it simultaneously, and needfully, protects all other people group's same civil liberties. (This is part of the Equal Protection clause of the Fourteenth Amendment which was used in Obergefell v. Hodges.) In other words (and isn't this ironic?), the very legal reality which removes same-sex marriage bans from the states, simultaneously has the power to defend the Christian theological viewpoint on marriage. This case just makes it easier to point out the legal distinctions between the legal, governmental definition of marriage and the theological one - which, thereby, makes the latter easier to defend should the government attempt to impinge on the church's right to freedom of religion.
And that is a very very very good thing.
In conclusion, I see it this way: Paul, in writing to his disciple Timothy, gave this instruction:
"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." (I Timothy 2:1-2)
Likewise, in writing to the Romans, he says:
"Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God." (Romans 13:1)
And Peter, writing to the Jewish Diaspora, says:
"Be subject for the Lord's sake to every human institution, whether it be to the emperor as supreme, or to governors as sent by him to punish those who do evil and to praise those who do good. For this is the will of God, that by doing good you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish people. Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God. Honor everyone. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the emperor." (I Peter 2:13-17)
In other words, the Christian response to the political authorities is to be subject to them. And why? So "that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way." I don't think it's a stretch to think that what Paul is saying there is that the Christian's interaction with his governmental system is so that he might lead a quiet life! IE. A life where that governmental institution does not impede on the Christian's pursuit of Christ.
So, if the SCOTUS makes a ruling that protects civil liberties, then the Christian should be all for it! If the SCOTUS is defending the rights of homosexuals, then we can be encouraged that, by legal definition (the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment) the SCOTUS is also willing to defend the rights of Christians. I do not fear to live in a country that defends the rights of homosexuals. I would most certainly fear to live in a country that neglects the rights of any of its peoples. (See this example.)
The Christian is not commanded ever to riot against his political authority's rulings, nor to disrespect that political authority's decisions (nor is the Christian forced ever to agree or disagree with the political authority; we have freedom of conscience). The Christian is simply commanded to be subject to those authorities, so that he might live a peaceful life. And I see, as I have purported in this blog post, that those authorities have made a ruling which I feel protects civil liberties. And I think that is for the better.
Monday, June 29, 2015
Friday, November 28, 2014
A Prophetic Word: Ferguson, the Church, and, Specifically, the Charismatic Movement.
Back in late August, I was driving home from campus and heading down Illinois State Route 143 when I received a prophetic word from the Lord. It was a beautiful day, I remember, and particularly scenic as I passed one of the industrial plants on my right with the River on my left.
It took me by surprise, actually. Let me be straightforward with you here: I am not usually a "this is the Word of the Lord" sort of guy. I'll go six months and only be able to tell you: "Well, this is what I'm sensing from the Holy Spirit right now" or "This is my leaning" and not hear much otherwise.
But every now and again, the Holy Spirit takes the prophetic training that I've received from the churches I've been involved with, a little dash of Dallas Willard, and a big megaphone and shoots me straight.
I had been praying about what was going on across the River: a young black man had been shot by a white police officer. Something big was happening. So, I took my troubled soul to the Lord, and I began to pray for the situation on my drive home.
And then He said this:
I knew at that moment that this was very important. So, as any of us should do when we receive a Word, I took to social media and challenged my brothers and sisters to consider God's view of Justice and to engage with the conversation that is being brought up via Ferguson. I even wrote a blog post about it.
Then there was a long wait. Folks got quiet about it. The Grand Jury took a little while to return the (non)-indictment. There was some social action during "Ferguson October," but for a little while there was not a lot of conversation (at least, from my social media perspective). I was keeping my ear open, waiting, listening, engaging as I had the opportunity.
And then the Grand Jury verdict came back on this past Monday. (Goodness, this week felt longer than that.) I had completely forgotten about this Word of the Lord from August. On Monday evening, I was engaging with the events 'cross-River via Twitter when a fellow blogger (By Their Strange Fruit) asked the question; "Hey! This is the first week in Advent! How can we pray in this season in light of what's happening in Ferguson?"
To which I replied: "Ah! Advent is the season of waiting for our Coming King, who will bring True Justice in His Coming Reign..." But I had not yet spent my daily quiet time with the Lord yet, so I proceeded to open up my Book of Common Prayer to the first week in Advent.
And there, staring me straight in the face, was Isaiah: "When you spread out your hands in prayer, I hide my eyes from you; even when you offer many prayers, I am not listening. Your hands are full of blood! Wash and make yourselves clean. Take your evil deeds out of my sight; stop doing wrong. Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow." (Is. 1:15-17)
Immediately, I remembered the Word God had spoken to me on that sunny drive in August.
Now, why did I say this in this manner? Because I want to challenge one particularly subset of Christianity to repentance: the Charismatic Church.
Something that's been burning on my soul for a little while now has been a longing to see the Charismatic Movement really be a powerful demonstration of God's Love to the world. But also burning on my soul has been the numerous issues and problems within the Charismatic Church.
To be sure: there is a lot of great things in the Charismatic Movement. I was at Onething '09 when my friend's sister had her spine instantly healed from scoliosis. I've been to the Prayer Room at the International House of Prayer in Kansas City, and I've stood on the wall as an intercessor before the Lord. I've been on a "treasure hunt" before and been in the midst of a company of prophetic words. I've experienced the fire of God's Holy Spirit in exquisite and powerful ways.
But I also have seen some great abuses within the Charismatic Movement. Without an understanding of historic Christianity, the Charismatic Church often loses touch with orthodox theology. Without a perspective on orthodox theology, the Charismatic Church often functions under extremely weak ecclesiology. I've met some folk who left Christianity directly because of bad soteriology in the Charismatic Church (worse yet: Pelagianism), and others who were frustrated because they were never healed or they didn't understand deliverance (= exorcism, for you non-charismatic folks).
I deeply love the Charismatic Movement. And I pray that she would grow into the beautiful, powerful, freeing voice of Christianity that she is meant to be.
But something bothers me, in the midst of what's been going on in Ferguson. As I look out on social media, I hear one of two lines from the Charismatic Movement: I either hear complete radio silence on the issue, or the same lines of rhetoric ("Well, if Mike Brown had just obeyed the law," or "this is not a race issue," and, even!, "you must understand: this is a Muslim plot...!!!") that I'm hearing from unsaved white folk.
And my question (and challenge) to the Charismatic Movement is this: Why haven't the prophets said anything? I've been watching a few Twitter feeds and Facebook accounts of some of the prominent prophetic ministries in the U.S. (the three major "streams": Bethel, IHOP-KC, and Morningstar), and they have all been completely silent.
That is deeply disconcerting to me. How can it be that something that pretty much every single African American church in America can't not talk about this coming Sunday is a subject matter that none of the "big name prophetic voices" in our country are speaking on? Is it that this "isn't really that important?" Or is there are bigger issue?
I'm sharing about this prophetic word the Lord gave me because I think there's a bigger issue. And I'm convinced that this is, in some sense, a "make or break" moment for the Charismatic Movement. I believe that God is serious, and I believe that He will begin removing fruit from the Charismatic Movement (and any section of the Church) until we begin listening to the warning that He's given us.
I'm sharing about this prophetic word in this way, telling of how God said it to me and how He confirmed it to me, because I've seen people stand up and give a prophetic word with less confirmation and less prayer and be listened to. I share it this way because, yet again, I love the Charismatic Movement, and I do not want her to become an unfruitful vine.
I'm sharing about this prophetic word because I have heard from the Lord on this matter, and He's given me a place to proclaim, and He's given me the tools I need to proclaim it. This is an Isaiah and Joel moment in our country. But if we don't ask the Lord and engage with Him now, it will pass us by and we will be under God's Judgment.
I'm sharing about this prophetic word because I want to see the Kingdom of God advance.
Hear, O Church. I love you too much to not share this with you.
***EDIT 9:41AM***
I felt I needed to clarify one point:
For my Charismatic brothers & sisters: I am not saying this as some sort of "Declaration of War" or "Strange Fire" (MERCY, NO!) or anything of that sort. I really do believe that God gave me a prophetic word for the hour. All I ask is that you would consider this Word, discern according to the Word of God and the Spirit who lives within you, and ask God about it, just like any other prophetic word that may be spoken.
But my warning comes in this sense: If you dismiss this immediately, I want to ask you: "Why have you dismissed this Word so quickly?" Was it because you knew inherently that it must be wrong? Or do you doubt my character? (For those who know me, I hope that is not the case!) Was it because it contrasted with your views on the matter?
The same would go for those (including myself) who would take this Word readily and rally behind it. Again, "Why accept it so quickly?" Is it because you know inherently that it must be true? Or because you so clearly trust my character? (Again, self-reflectively, I hope that is not the case either!) Was it because your views so agreed on the matter?
But here's one final question; Does this Word make you feel uncomfortable? Does it challenge you to pursue God more, or, were you to live it out, would it change our world in some manner? What would it look like if the Church, and specifically the Charismatic Movement in the Church, were to really grasp a vision of Racial Reconciliation being deeply important to God?
Me, I want to lean into my Father. And I believe that He's given me this Word to declare. And though it looks really really hard to speak it to a community that I love, I too feel "fire shut up in my bones" if I were to keep within the revelation He's shown me.
It took me by surprise, actually. Let me be straightforward with you here: I am not usually a "this is the Word of the Lord" sort of guy. I'll go six months and only be able to tell you: "Well, this is what I'm sensing from the Holy Spirit right now" or "This is my leaning" and not hear much otherwise.
But every now and again, the Holy Spirit takes the prophetic training that I've received from the churches I've been involved with, a little dash of Dallas Willard, and a big megaphone and shoots me straight.
I had been praying about what was going on across the River: a young black man had been shot by a white police officer. Something big was happening. So, I took my troubled soul to the Lord, and I began to pray for the situation on my drive home.
And then He said this:
When you spread out your hands in prayer,I hide my eyes from you;even when you offer many prayers,I am not listening.Your hands are full of blood!Wash and make yourselves clean.Take your evil deeds out of my sight;stop doing wrong.Learn to do right; seek justice.Defend the oppressed.Take up the cause of the fatherless;plead the case of the widow.
And this made me very distraught. You see, God spoke this Word to me as I prayed for His Church in the midst of the crisis. I was praying that God would help His Church to seek Truth and Justice in the midst of the Ferguson crisis. But what God spoke to me during that drive was very clear: we are in an Isaiah sort of crisis in America right now. Isaiah spoke to a people who were a little before the final siege and destruction of Jerusalem. And here, in the early days of his ministry (near the reign of Uzziah = King Hezekiah), Isaiah's prophetic call to God's people was: "Repent of your Injustice! And if you don't: I will not listen to your prayers."(Isaiah 1:15-17)
I knew at that moment that this was very important. So, as any of us should do when we receive a Word, I took to social media and challenged my brothers and sisters to consider God's view of Justice and to engage with the conversation that is being brought up via Ferguson. I even wrote a blog post about it.
Then there was a long wait. Folks got quiet about it. The Grand Jury took a little while to return the (non)-indictment. There was some social action during "Ferguson October," but for a little while there was not a lot of conversation (at least, from my social media perspective). I was keeping my ear open, waiting, listening, engaging as I had the opportunity.
And then the Grand Jury verdict came back on this past Monday. (Goodness, this week felt longer than that.) I had completely forgotten about this Word of the Lord from August. On Monday evening, I was engaging with the events 'cross-River via Twitter when a fellow blogger (By Their Strange Fruit) asked the question; "Hey! This is the first week in Advent! How can we pray in this season in light of what's happening in Ferguson?"
To which I replied: "Ah! Advent is the season of waiting for our Coming King, who will bring True Justice in His Coming Reign..." But I had not yet spent my daily quiet time with the Lord yet, so I proceeded to open up my Book of Common Prayer to the first week in Advent.
And there, staring me straight in the face, was Isaiah: "When you spread out your hands in prayer, I hide my eyes from you; even when you offer many prayers, I am not listening. Your hands are full of blood! Wash and make yourselves clean. Take your evil deeds out of my sight; stop doing wrong. Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow." (Is. 1:15-17)
Immediately, I remembered the Word God had spoken to me on that sunny drive in August.
Now, why did I say this in this manner? Because I want to challenge one particularly subset of Christianity to repentance: the Charismatic Church.
Something that's been burning on my soul for a little while now has been a longing to see the Charismatic Movement really be a powerful demonstration of God's Love to the world. But also burning on my soul has been the numerous issues and problems within the Charismatic Church.
To be sure: there is a lot of great things in the Charismatic Movement. I was at Onething '09 when my friend's sister had her spine instantly healed from scoliosis. I've been to the Prayer Room at the International House of Prayer in Kansas City, and I've stood on the wall as an intercessor before the Lord. I've been on a "treasure hunt" before and been in the midst of a company of prophetic words. I've experienced the fire of God's Holy Spirit in exquisite and powerful ways.
But I also have seen some great abuses within the Charismatic Movement. Without an understanding of historic Christianity, the Charismatic Church often loses touch with orthodox theology. Without a perspective on orthodox theology, the Charismatic Church often functions under extremely weak ecclesiology. I've met some folk who left Christianity directly because of bad soteriology in the Charismatic Church (worse yet: Pelagianism), and others who were frustrated because they were never healed or they didn't understand deliverance (= exorcism, for you non-charismatic folks).
I deeply love the Charismatic Movement. And I pray that she would grow into the beautiful, powerful, freeing voice of Christianity that she is meant to be.
But something bothers me, in the midst of what's been going on in Ferguson. As I look out on social media, I hear one of two lines from the Charismatic Movement: I either hear complete radio silence on the issue, or the same lines of rhetoric ("Well, if Mike Brown had just obeyed the law," or "this is not a race issue," and, even!, "you must understand: this is a Muslim plot...!!!") that I'm hearing from unsaved white folk.
And my question (and challenge) to the Charismatic Movement is this: Why haven't the prophets said anything? I've been watching a few Twitter feeds and Facebook accounts of some of the prominent prophetic ministries in the U.S. (the three major "streams": Bethel, IHOP-KC, and Morningstar), and they have all been completely silent.
That is deeply disconcerting to me. How can it be that something that pretty much every single African American church in America can't not talk about this coming Sunday is a subject matter that none of the "big name prophetic voices" in our country are speaking on? Is it that this "isn't really that important?" Or is there are bigger issue?
I'm sharing about this prophetic word the Lord gave me because I think there's a bigger issue. And I'm convinced that this is, in some sense, a "make or break" moment for the Charismatic Movement. I believe that God is serious, and I believe that He will begin removing fruit from the Charismatic Movement (and any section of the Church) until we begin listening to the warning that He's given us.
I'm sharing about this prophetic word in this way, telling of how God said it to me and how He confirmed it to me, because I've seen people stand up and give a prophetic word with less confirmation and less prayer and be listened to. I share it this way because, yet again, I love the Charismatic Movement, and I do not want her to become an unfruitful vine.
I'm sharing about this prophetic word because I have heard from the Lord on this matter, and He's given me a place to proclaim, and He's given me the tools I need to proclaim it. This is an Isaiah and Joel moment in our country. But if we don't ask the Lord and engage with Him now, it will pass us by and we will be under God's Judgment.
I'm sharing about this prophetic word because I want to see the Kingdom of God advance.
Hear, O Church. I love you too much to not share this with you.
***EDIT 9:41AM***
I felt I needed to clarify one point:
For my Charismatic brothers & sisters: I am not saying this as some sort of "Declaration of War" or "Strange Fire" (MERCY, NO!) or anything of that sort. I really do believe that God gave me a prophetic word for the hour. All I ask is that you would consider this Word, discern according to the Word of God and the Spirit who lives within you, and ask God about it, just like any other prophetic word that may be spoken.
But my warning comes in this sense: If you dismiss this immediately, I want to ask you: "Why have you dismissed this Word so quickly?" Was it because you knew inherently that it must be wrong? Or do you doubt my character? (For those who know me, I hope that is not the case!) Was it because it contrasted with your views on the matter?
The same would go for those (including myself) who would take this Word readily and rally behind it. Again, "Why accept it so quickly?" Is it because you know inherently that it must be true? Or because you so clearly trust my character? (Again, self-reflectively, I hope that is not the case either!) Was it because your views so agreed on the matter?
But here's one final question; Does this Word make you feel uncomfortable? Does it challenge you to pursue God more, or, were you to live it out, would it change our world in some manner? What would it look like if the Church, and specifically the Charismatic Movement in the Church, were to really grasp a vision of Racial Reconciliation being deeply important to God?
Me, I want to lean into my Father. And I believe that He's given me this Word to declare. And though it looks really really hard to speak it to a community that I love, I too feel "fire shut up in my bones" if I were to keep within the revelation He's shown me.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
The Alton Observer.
In 1836, a judge by the name of Lawless looked the newspaper-man in the eyes and said to him: "Your newspaper was the reason that this man died."
But Rev. Elijah P. Lovejoy did not stand down. You see, he was the owner and principle author of a little newspaper known as the St. Louis Observer, and he had dedicated a large portion of his life and his time to writing about the evils of slavery and the wickedness of racial hatred. By 1836, his printing press had been destroyed three times.
In that year, a free black man named Francis McIntosh was burned to death by a mob. Rev. Lovejoy attended the grand jury proceedings, decrying the manner of McIntosh's death. Judge Lawless blamed the Observer for the lynch mob.
In 1837, Rev. Lovejoy relocated to the city of Alton, right across the River. On November 7th of that year, his printing press was assailed and thrown into the River, and Rev. Lovejoy was murdered by a mob.
But Rev. Elijah P. Lovejoy did not stand down. You see, he was the owner and principle author of a little newspaper known as the St. Louis Observer, and he had dedicated a large portion of his life and his time to writing about the evils of slavery and the wickedness of racial hatred. By 1836, his printing press had been destroyed three times.
In that year, a free black man named Francis McIntosh was burned to death by a mob. Rev. Lovejoy attended the grand jury proceedings, decrying the manner of McIntosh's death. Judge Lawless blamed the Observer for the lynch mob.
In 1837, Rev. Lovejoy relocated to the city of Alton, right across the River. On November 7th of that year, his printing press was assailed and thrown into the River, and Rev. Lovejoy was murdered by a mob.
Rev. Lovejoy is a powerful symbol for me. I live in the City of Alton, and I too am a Christian and a writer. When I hear about Rev. Lovejoy's testimony before Judge Lawless, his consistency in standing for slave's rights, and his martyred death, I feel a strength to speak using that same prophetic voice.
Rev. Lovejoy was an abolitionist not because he was politically-motivated or because he wanted votes or popularity -- he was an abolitionist because he was convinced by the Gospel that all men were created equal and free, and he was empowered by God's Spirit to be a voice for the voiceless. He declared: "If the laws of my country fail to protect me I appeal to God, and with him I cheerfully rest my cause. I can die at my post but I cannot desert it."
Right now, Rev. Lovejoy is on my mind on a daily basis. Across the River, in the small St. Louis suburb of Ferguson, there is violent unrest and turmoil following the non-indictment of police officer Darren Wilson. And I've been finding myself asking one major question: "How would Brother Lovejoy have responded?"
There's a bit about Francis McIntosh that I didn't share earlier: he was a bad man. Lovejoy himself said of this man: "...a hardened wretch certainly, and one that deserved to die —but not thus to die." McIntosh had interrupted the arrest of two rowdy sailors by two police officers, and he wounded and killed those officers. But Lovejoy defended him because it was wrong for him to have died in the manner that he died: by lynch-mob and without a trial.
There's a bit about Francis McIntosh that I didn't share earlier: he was a bad man. Lovejoy himself said of this man: "...a hardened wretch certainly, and one that deserved to die —but not thus to die." McIntosh had interrupted the arrest of two rowdy sailors by two police officers, and he wounded and killed those officers. But Lovejoy defended him because it was wrong for him to have died in the manner that he died: by lynch-mob and without a trial.
In the spirit of Rev. Lovejoy, I look across the Clark Bridge to St. Louis. In Ferguson last August, an unarmed black teen was shot and killed by a white police officer. No matter how you mince things, Mike Brown did not have a weapon, and he had never killed a man. Yet he was shot multiple times and left dead on the street for 4 hours.
We could probably have a conversation about Mike Brown posing a danger to Darren Wilson, about the theft from the convenience store, &c. &c. ... ... But my point (in this blog post) is that no matter how we look at this situation, Mike Brown was not a murderer and he was not armed. Brother Lovejoy defended McIntosh, an armed murderer, because it was wrong for him to have died the way that he died.
I've talked before about this case, but here I want to share another spin: Is it ever right for a man to be killed without trial? And if Lovejoy was willing to put his reputation on the line for, again, a bad man who died in a wicked way, then how much more so should the modern Christian (and the modern Christian writer!) speak out and cry out for Justice for an unarmed teen who died in an unlawful way.
I can see the Arch from my house, through the beams of the Clark Bridge. I can also see the Lovejoy Monument, which is just a few blocks from where I live. How can I not ask for Justice for the oppressed? How can I not cry out for Truth in this world of lies? How can I not say, as I have said before: "This is not right."
If I do not speak, the blood on the ground in Ferguson would cry out against me. If I do not speak, the blood of righteous Lovejoy would cry out against me. That is why I have been so vocal, and that is why I cannot be quiet on this matter.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
A White Man Looks Across the River to a City on Fire.
As a white man, I have absolutely no idea what it is like to be a black man.
I fundraise as a foundational part of doing my work (campus ministry). Once, I reflected on some of the ministry partners that I have connected with over the years... and I realized that as young, white man I had an edge up on every other demographic of missionary. In social situations, in ministry situations, I can walk up to someone and immediately know that they will take me seriously, that they will trust me implicitly, and that, perhaps, I can get my foot in the door. I have cold-called people with little to no personal connection with them.
And I realized: if I were black...
I used to walk late at night when I was in school. I enjoyed those late-night walks, both on campus and then around Glen Carbon when I moved there. From time to time I would see a police officer making rounds. I would give him a nod, he'd nod back and smile, and I would continue my walk. Once, I reflected on those late-night walks and the peace and quiet I solaced in them...
And I realized: if I were black...
I live in Alton. On a clear day, I can drive down Henry Street and see the St. Louis Arch beyond the Clark Bridge. The first time I went into St. Louis from Alton, I drove through Riverview Gardens (which, for those of you who don't live in the St. Louis area, is near Ferguson, MO). When I had arrived, a relative of mine commented: "Why did you drive through there? It's dangerous."
I reflected on this the next time I drove through. "Dangerous" did not come to my mind. Old, run-down, beaten-up did. In need of some TLC and DIY came to mind. In need of economic development came to mind. Riverview Gardens didn't look implicitly dangerous to me. But it certainly looked very black.
I wondered if that's what my relative had meant. North County, I'm told, is a dangerous area. And I wonder if "a dangerous area" in white man's terms really just means "there's a lot of black folks there."
A quick history lesson: North County was designed as a glorious suburban area for the bustling and growing City of St. Louis. I went to the Chicago suburbs last week and spent some time in Libertyville, IL. It was very hipster, very modern, very energetic, very successful: that's what North County was originally designed to be.
During the time of Integration, African Americans started coming north from the city in search of better living options. They were doing the same thing that the white folks were doing -- and, to be historically accurate, there was general acceptance among the white folks in North County. And then real estate agents started coming to the white families and telling them that the black families would make their property values drop. That's what began North County's white flight: fear of losing money. After a few years of this type of unethical real estate operations, the white community had nearly completely left North County.
Racism is fundamentally a fear thing, we should remember. It didn't take too long for North County to begin being called "the rough part of town", simply because it had the highest percentage of African Americans. You don't need a background in sociology to understand what happens to neighborhoods and communities once they've received that type of appellation. When an area begins to be known as "the rough part of town", the rough people will move there.
I bring up this moment in History to say this: white people created the "dangerous" North County through their fears and distance.
Again: I live in Alton. In some sense, North County is geographically more real to me than the City of St. Louis is. All of this chaos going on is happening not too far from me: on the other side of the River. But I hear a lot of white voices in the Metro-East saying: "What does it matter to me?" I hear white voices in the Church (and this really riles me) saying that the riots are the black community's fault, that Michael Brown shouldn't have robbed a store, that the media should give the St. Louis County Police a break.
And you know what? As a white man, I really could ignore the whole thing. I could pretend that it will all go away. "Hear no evil, see no evil..." right? Like I already said: I have it good. People listen to me, police don't arrest me. I can keep living on without giving this whole mess in Ferguson a second look.
Compassion demands more. The Love of Christ demands more. White men who ignore the dire strait of our black brothers commit the same sin as the Pharisees. The Pharisees didn't like changing the way their lives were: they wanted a "pure, Gentile-less" Judaism. Christ challenged them to see their pride over and over again. Eventually, they kill Him. To ignore the plight of the young black man is to see your brother on the road, naked and robbed, and leave him there as you travel to Jerusalem to worship.
As a white man, I have absolutely no idea what it is like to be a black man. But I absolutely must stand up with my brothers. To do otherwise would be heinous and irresponsible and hateful. On August 9th, across the River, past West Alton, Michael Brown was shot and killed not because he had robbed a convenience store, not because he was walking down the street, but because, above all, his skin was several shades darker than mine.
The response? The community of Ferguson was outraged. A few irresponsible people used that outrage for their own purposes. Social media erupted. And the white Church deeply disappointed me.
As a Metro-East resident, I have absolutely no idea what it is like to be a North County resident. But this I'm convinced about: As long as the white church refuses to regard the social, cultural, economic, and emotional hurt of the black community, we will continue in the sins of the Pharisees. And as long as the Metro-East sees this incident as "something happening over there" we will fail to become the beautiful, integrated, diverse community that I believe God has called us to be.
As a white man, I have a very very simple response: to have Compassion for black men. The Gospel demands no less. And that Compassion implies that I recognize the structural, systemic racism that is perpetuated daily against men of color. That Compassion implies that I recognize my role in this systemic racism. That Compassion requires that I stand alongside the African American community in their hurt and their pain and say "THIS IS NOT RIGHT." That Compassion demands Justice.
And that Justice is not an easy "cover it over" or "forget about it." Remember the Trayvon Martin incident? We (white folks) have forgotten about it. In another year, white folks will have forgotten about Michael Brown. The African American community will not. They cannot. And as long as we (white folks) continue to forget and continue to cover things over and continue to not "cry aloud for Justice" as the Word of God demands, then situations like these will keep popping out of the woodwork, and cities will continue to burn, and there will be no Peace.
Compassion demands Justice. Justice requires Truth -- it requires the white community to view their own hearts in the light of God's Truth -- and to begin to fight against the cultural oppression that we (white folks) have created.
As a white man, this begins with accepting one statement: "This is not right."
As a white man, I have absolutely no idea what it is like to be a black man. But I can stand up with him, and I can fight for Justice for him, and I can have Compassion with him. I can pray. I can intercede. I can learn to seek Reconciliation. I can learn to pursue Truth. I can learn, and I can listen, and I can hurt alongside him.
And until young white men learn to do this, systemic racism will continue to destroy the lives of young black men.
My brothers, take up the banner. Stand for Justice.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Gatsby and the New American Myth.
Okay, okay. Obviously I'm behind the times.
I read The Great Gatsby a few days back. At first I hated it. The first few chapters were filled with wholly despicable people. And then I realized, like T.S. Eliot once did, that the novel is brilliant. It is far more than a time-capsule of 1920's grandeur, but a continual testament of American culture. Naturally, I wanted to watch the new movie that came out this past year. I had been on a Baz Luhrman kick anyhow (I had recently watched both Moulin Rouge and Australia), and it seemed a natural continuation of movie-watching.
I won't do a full explication of either novel or movie; and the movie might be suffice to say that it sufficiently exemplifies the book in every manner.
But something else drew me into the newest Gatsby movie: It fit the time.
What I mean by that is that The Great Gatsby was decidedly not a movie about a 1920's party-scene, but about a 2010's party-scene. A century following the Roaring Twenties, here we are again -- culturally and nearly economically.
And here is Gatsby, again. A man searching for a Past that will never exist in a Present that he doesn't prefer. Gatsby claims again and again that he and Daisy can go back in time, and act as if her marriage never happened. Nick shakes his head and says that this is impossible, but Gatsby is, as Nick describes, a "man of hope". Gatsby has a vision of a different world than the one he lives in.
But his vision is not one of the Future, but one of the Past.
I run into this a lot these days. I hear from people -- conservatives and liberals, Christian and secular -- a longing for "the Good Old Days". The days when gasoline was (as it is in the movie) $1.20 for a fill-up, when America was "good and pure and Christian"... ... A Mythic Past which has become the new American myth.
It is a natural iteration for the old American myth (= The American Dream). When the current generation began discovering that the American Dream was just another mythos, they had to psychologically cope with that idea, and they did so by addressing America's Past as a different Myth. An America that was easy and prosperous, free from governmental regulation (or copious with good regulation, depending on one's party lines).
And these men and women are modern Gatsby's. I believe that they are the people whom Luhrman is targeting in his newest iteration of Gatsby. You see, Gatsby believes that the Mythic Past is something which can be returned to through hard work and effort and realized into a True Future. And he is tragically mistaken.
In this understanding, Gatsby is a man of false hope, and Tom and Daisy (whom Nick despises before the end) are the trampling vision of a just-as-mythic future. In Fitzgerald's time, both people existed: the believers of Mythic Past (ie. unprogressive) and the believers of Mythic Future (ie. superprogressive: see Tom's belief in the White Race). Neither are in touch with reality; both proceed as if the world can be rewound or fast-forwarded.
The true reality lies with Nick Carraway and Jordan Baker, people caught between Past and Future. Perhaps that's actually what attracts Nick to Jordan, even lightly. Her dishonesty is not that of blatant denial, but that of present gain. Both are opportunists and people of the present time. (Albeit, I'll leave off a judgment call as to what good or bad they may imply for the Present.)
All this being said, Gatsby, both as novel and as movie, is simply a diagnostic myth. It never makes a claim at having a solution to the problem of Time in America. It reveals it, in brilliant, flashing fireworks.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
A Few Good Movies.
I haven't blogged at all for a while. Perhaps it has been a lack of content (which is nonsense) or a lack of will (which is far more truthful), but I would most likely chalk it up to the reality that I will be getting married before the week is out. (Or, since the wedding is on a Sunday, "at the beginning of next week" would be more appropriate.)
On a similar line of thought, I am writing this blog-post on WordPad, because my new house does not have WiFi, nor does my budget afford it quite yet. Hopefully before the summer is out, I will have rectified this problem. Until then, I will most likely use the format of writing blog-posts away from Blogger, come to McDonald's or St. Louis Bread Co. or IHOP, snag some WiFi at the cost of a coffee, and format and post. It is important for you (my readers) to know this; it naturally implies some time-dilation between the writing of a post and the posting of a post.
(For instance! I just mentioned that I will be getting married at the start of next week. But say that I don't finish writing this post by Friday, or that I do and I don't have the Internet-access necessary to post it, this post, complete with its statement about my wedding this Sunday, will likely be posted following the wedding, and, thus, have some natural anachronism to it.)
That behind us, I wanted to note two very distinct movies that I have seen recently. Miss Hannah (my fiance, soon to be my wife!) recently introduced me to two fine examples of brilliant cinema art: 3:10 to Yuma (the new one) and Chocolat. Not only are they brilliant movies, but they are great examples of mythopoetic thought, as I'll share in a moment.
3:10 to Yuma
I would claim (and John Eldredge claims with me) that the Western is perhaps one of the most phenomenal genres for writing American Myth. I've mentioned modern Westerns in this blog before -- such as Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian. There's something about "the West," guns and blood that opens up the world of mythopoetic beauty.
Oftentimes, like it is in the newest iteration of 3:10 to Yuma, it is the story of Manhood. In it, a Civil War veteran rancher, Dan Evans, (played masterfully by Christian Bale) makes a pledge to himself to catch and bring in Ben Wade, the notorious criminal mastermind (played just as masterfully by Russell Crowe). The Myth of this movie is convoluted: Ben Wade is Enemy to Evans, but he is also Rival, and, most powerfully, Sage. He consults the Bible and the Book of Proverbs. He makes sketches of nature, and one of Evans holding his shotgun. It is clear that he has a deep appreciation for the rancher and for his family.
The story is one of Evans' quest for a True Manhood. Early in the movie his manhood is questioned by, of all people, his son, when he doesn't fight off men who come to burn his barns. Evans' son sees the dangerous Ben Wade as a more valiant father-figure. Dan Evans is the classic emasculated man: he wants his son to think him a war-hero; but he was given his peg-leg from a stray cannon, and he was given money so he'd walk away.
The hero's journey is from the place of walking away to the point of walking onward. At first, Ben Wade is an unintentional help for Evans in his journey; but at the end of the tale, he becomes the fundamental instigator for his Honor.
There's a strange sense of joy on Evans' son's face at the end of the movie when he holds his dying father. He is proud that his father is a hero -- even though the whole chase seems fairly meaningless by the end.
I find it immeasurably powerful, however. That sense of Honor that a Father has, that a Father gives his Son, that a Son inherits from his Father... When I discovered the joy of running, it gave me a deep sense of Honor and Pleasure knowing that I was carrying on a legacy from my father. Even though Evans dies, in a sense, he brings something more back to his son. In that sense, the story is a perfect Campbellian hero story, almost straight out of the pages of The Hero with a Thousand Faces.
Chocolat
Obviously, Chocolat is a wholly different sort of movie altogether. It is a little intrepid film concerning a French village with a religious Catholic community ruled by the horribly-controlling Count.
The stage is set perfectly for Myth, however, as the story opens with "Once upon a time..." and the North Wind blows. Vianne and her daughter, Anouk, come into the town in red riding cloaks in order to set up their confectionery... in the midst of the Catholic season of Lent.
The movie is quite endearing as we see a host of character's lives transformed by the forbidden chocolate... and then, of course, confessing their horrid sins of confectionery lust to the parish priest!
There seem to be two or three major Myths underlying the whole story: one if the North Wind of Vianne's mother; the next is the power of chocolate; and, finally, most importantly, the story of Woman (which makes the movie a nice contrast to 3:10 to Yuma and its Man-narrative).
Of course, chocolate is the way to a woman's heart, and it seems to be that every woman in the story who comes into contact with the chocolate is transformed. There's the wife whose husband needs more passion, the widow who has been mourning since the end of the World War I, the mother who is estranged from both son and grandmother following her husband's death, and that grandmother who is sick with (of all things!) diabetes and who feels the pain, more fundamentally, of her daughter's distance. And, of course, there's Josephine, who becomes Vianne's aide after she leaves her abusive husband.
Each of these women are facing some sort of direct conflict; and the answer to each of their conflicts is chocolate.
Best yet is Vianne's profound ability to read people's preferred chocolate. I would say that this translates to the power of discernment in Myth -- sort of like how Meg is a Namer in The Wind in the Door by Madeline L'Engle. Vianne has the ability to peer, in a sense, into another's soul and discover their need and their identity.
I won't go much further in my explication of Chocolat mainly because I have already written a lot here. But I would like to make a side-note on the interesting ways that stories of the Man and stories of the Woman differ. In 3:10 to Yuma, there's a lot of Evans gaining honor and doing brave actions to earn his son's heart. In Chocolat, Vianne is certainly honorable and brave, but it is in her compassion that she turns the hearts of the town.
One of the most intriguing characters in Chocolat is the Count himself, whose wound is that his wife has left him, and he dare not tell anyone. He is the only prominent male character to have some sort of redemption in the movie -- and substantively, it is through his recognition of lack and need, which occurs, of course, over chocolate. Actually, to be more frank, over a chocolate nude statue of a woman.
I love good movies, and I always appreciate sharing them with you. I hope to blog more following my honeymoon, so keep your eyes posted!
On a similar line of thought, I am writing this blog-post on WordPad, because my new house does not have WiFi, nor does my budget afford it quite yet. Hopefully before the summer is out, I will have rectified this problem. Until then, I will most likely use the format of writing blog-posts away from Blogger, come to McDonald's or St. Louis Bread Co. or IHOP, snag some WiFi at the cost of a coffee, and format and post. It is important for you (my readers) to know this; it naturally implies some time-dilation between the writing of a post and the posting of a post.
(For instance! I just mentioned that I will be getting married at the start of next week. But say that I don't finish writing this post by Friday, or that I do and I don't have the Internet-access necessary to post it, this post, complete with its statement about my wedding this Sunday, will likely be posted following the wedding, and, thus, have some natural anachronism to it.)
That behind us, I wanted to note two very distinct movies that I have seen recently. Miss Hannah (my fiance, soon to be my wife!) recently introduced me to two fine examples of brilliant cinema art: 3:10 to Yuma (the new one) and Chocolat. Not only are they brilliant movies, but they are great examples of mythopoetic thought, as I'll share in a moment.
3:10 to Yuma
I would claim (and John Eldredge claims with me) that the Western is perhaps one of the most phenomenal genres for writing American Myth. I've mentioned modern Westerns in this blog before -- such as Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian. There's something about "the West," guns and blood that opens up the world of mythopoetic beauty.
Oftentimes, like it is in the newest iteration of 3:10 to Yuma, it is the story of Manhood. In it, a Civil War veteran rancher, Dan Evans, (played masterfully by Christian Bale) makes a pledge to himself to catch and bring in Ben Wade, the notorious criminal mastermind (played just as masterfully by Russell Crowe). The Myth of this movie is convoluted: Ben Wade is Enemy to Evans, but he is also Rival, and, most powerfully, Sage. He consults the Bible and the Book of Proverbs. He makes sketches of nature, and one of Evans holding his shotgun. It is clear that he has a deep appreciation for the rancher and for his family.
The story is one of Evans' quest for a True Manhood. Early in the movie his manhood is questioned by, of all people, his son, when he doesn't fight off men who come to burn his barns. Evans' son sees the dangerous Ben Wade as a more valiant father-figure. Dan Evans is the classic emasculated man: he wants his son to think him a war-hero; but he was given his peg-leg from a stray cannon, and he was given money so he'd walk away.
The hero's journey is from the place of walking away to the point of walking onward. At first, Ben Wade is an unintentional help for Evans in his journey; but at the end of the tale, he becomes the fundamental instigator for his Honor.
There's a strange sense of joy on Evans' son's face at the end of the movie when he holds his dying father. He is proud that his father is a hero -- even though the whole chase seems fairly meaningless by the end.
I find it immeasurably powerful, however. That sense of Honor that a Father has, that a Father gives his Son, that a Son inherits from his Father... When I discovered the joy of running, it gave me a deep sense of Honor and Pleasure knowing that I was carrying on a legacy from my father. Even though Evans dies, in a sense, he brings something more back to his son. In that sense, the story is a perfect Campbellian hero story, almost straight out of the pages of The Hero with a Thousand Faces.
Chocolat
Obviously, Chocolat is a wholly different sort of movie altogether. It is a little intrepid film concerning a French village with a religious Catholic community ruled by the horribly-controlling Count.
The stage is set perfectly for Myth, however, as the story opens with "Once upon a time..." and the North Wind blows. Vianne and her daughter, Anouk, come into the town in red riding cloaks in order to set up their confectionery... in the midst of the Catholic season of Lent.
The movie is quite endearing as we see a host of character's lives transformed by the forbidden chocolate... and then, of course, confessing their horrid sins of confectionery lust to the parish priest!
There seem to be two or three major Myths underlying the whole story: one if the North Wind of Vianne's mother; the next is the power of chocolate; and, finally, most importantly, the story of Woman (which makes the movie a nice contrast to 3:10 to Yuma and its Man-narrative).
Of course, chocolate is the way to a woman's heart, and it seems to be that every woman in the story who comes into contact with the chocolate is transformed. There's the wife whose husband needs more passion, the widow who has been mourning since the end of the World War I, the mother who is estranged from both son and grandmother following her husband's death, and that grandmother who is sick with (of all things!) diabetes and who feels the pain, more fundamentally, of her daughter's distance. And, of course, there's Josephine, who becomes Vianne's aide after she leaves her abusive husband.
Each of these women are facing some sort of direct conflict; and the answer to each of their conflicts is chocolate.
Best yet is Vianne's profound ability to read people's preferred chocolate. I would say that this translates to the power of discernment in Myth -- sort of like how Meg is a Namer in The Wind in the Door by Madeline L'Engle. Vianne has the ability to peer, in a sense, into another's soul and discover their need and their identity.
I won't go much further in my explication of Chocolat mainly because I have already written a lot here. But I would like to make a side-note on the interesting ways that stories of the Man and stories of the Woman differ. In 3:10 to Yuma, there's a lot of Evans gaining honor and doing brave actions to earn his son's heart. In Chocolat, Vianne is certainly honorable and brave, but it is in her compassion that she turns the hearts of the town.
One of the most intriguing characters in Chocolat is the Count himself, whose wound is that his wife has left him, and he dare not tell anyone. He is the only prominent male character to have some sort of redemption in the movie -- and substantively, it is through his recognition of lack and need, which occurs, of course, over chocolate. Actually, to be more frank, over a chocolate nude statue of a woman.
I love good movies, and I always appreciate sharing them with you. I hope to blog more following my honeymoon, so keep your eyes posted!
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
"Bad" Movies. A Reflection on the Objectivity of Art and the Modern Church.
And, importantly, I haven't seen Noah yet. I honestly would really really like to. It intrigues me far deeper than any of the "contemporary religious movies" that were released around the same time (God's Not Dead, Son of God, and, upcoming, Heaven Is For Real). Maybe I'm a rebel. Maybe I'm a fool. Maybe I just think that I loved Les Mis, I loved Gladiator, and how could I not love a movie in which Russell Crowe portrays a Biblical hero?
But I felt very deeply distressed and disappointed as I looked out on my Facebook wall during the time of Noah's release. Left and right there were scathing and hateful reviews of the movie coming from people who either didn't see the movie or didn't give it a full chance. (To be clear: I want to respect people's rights to like or dislike a movie! For example: I watched Prometheus and I really really really hated it. That being said, there were some aspects to it [the animation, particularly] that were good.)
Why did the Church, largely, hate Noah? Most of those who responded negatively to it would say: "Because it was unbiblical!" or "It is blasphemous!" or something like that. Maybe "It supports environmentalism!" (Like Genesis 1 and 2 doesn't?) or "It supports evolution!" (... ... This one is becoming a dead horse.)
But I would say that the Church mostly hated Noah because of a false perspective of Art and a lack of integrity.
Genesis 5-9 is simultaneously a glorious amount of details on the Flood story and an amazing lack of specific detail. When we read a Biblical text, part of our hermeneutic necessarily needs to include the reality that there are details that we do not see. That's part of what a good inductive Bible study will reveal. For example: in the story of Jesus and the woman who anoints His feet with oil, we can't really understand the nature of the passage if we don't understand how Jesus is sitting at the table! In the Pharisee's house, there's a particular layout: the Pharisee at the head, Jesus at a prominent place as the visiting Rabbi. Everyone's sitting on the ground, of course, because their tables are placed on the ground. The woman washes Jesus' feet, and He looks at her while talking to the Pharisee. A 1st century Messianic Jew would have recognized immediately that Christ's decision to look upon the woman means (because of a physical reality!) that He is turning His face away from the Pharisee who invited him -- an incredibly meaningful act. This is something that we cannot understand without more information that is not given directly in the text.
So, for instance, when in the Noah movie apparently Russell Crowe has a manic-depressive moment when he considers killing his grandchildren. Don't get me wrong: I do not believe that Noah would have slain his grandchildren. But the purpose of this (again, I haven't seen the movie) in the movie is to convey the weight of Noah's consideration on sin -- he's realized that God is destroying the earth because of the sin of man, and that this sin is not only in the wicked people "out there" but "in here" -- in his family, in his children, and in his children's children. In that sense, it is a brilliant reflection on the doctrine of Total Depravity. And Noah's response upon discovering this is a logical one for someone under much theological stress.
And the depressive undertone isn't something too far-fetched -- we do read in the Bible that Noah goes from saving the world to getting himself drunk. Sounds like he may have "seen too much" and was trying to self-medicate. We could have a good theological discussion as to why Noah goes on a drinking binge, but it remains that we do not know directly why he did what he did in that passage -- and the creative license of saying "Oh! He's depressed because of the sin of man!" is a legitimate artistic perspective.
I say all of this to note one major point: As a whole, the Church does not understand Art. Think about it this way: Who gets better airplay on Christian radio, the artist who makes deeply nuanced and beautiful music with complicated lyrics (let's say... John Mark McMillan? Switchfoot? Aaron Strumpel?) or the worship leader who has written something that clearly says something theological? (Or semi-theological?)
This isn't about Noah, it's about how the Church responds to artistic media. Is a movie really "bad? I had a great conversation with some Christian friends last week, and they responded to a movie that I mentioned by saying "Yes, it's a great movie, but it's got some questionable things in it." I don't think that they were unjust in saying this (It is a great movie; it does have some questionable things in it.), but I do think that their statement was telling of how we as Christians deal with artistic media!
When I see Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam, I don't think that I would say "It's great art, but theologically inconsistent" or "It's great art, but too much nudity." Or when I listen to Beethoven, I don't say "It's great art, but he was crazy" or "It's great art, but he wasn't a Christian" or even! "It's great art, but he was so clearly depressed." To me, the modern Church's perspective on Art is one dominated by a perspective which fundamentally lacks integrity. We treat "classics" differently than we treat modern media; we treat certain things that are wicked different than other things that are wicked; we prefer unrealistic perspectives on our lives to stories that tell the truth as it is (for example: think of how beautifully-profound Gran Torino is; then think about what would happen if you removed all the cussing from it).
And we must be consistent even when films or art portrays our faith. If you dismiss Noah because of the liberties taken with the story, then you should never watch Prince of Egypt ever again (or sing along with that glorious "When You Believe" song at the end), you should avoid any Christian songs with off doctrine (quite notably, from Christmas music, "We Three Kings" or "Silent Night" -- okay, that last one is more of a humorous thought about whether or not the night Christ's birth could have actually been silent...), and most definitely we should take a stand whenever someone misquotes Scripture!!!*
(*Which, using an ancient Jewish rabbinical tradition, Jesus, Peter, and Paul all do. Multiple times.)
My point: How do we as Christians experience Art? I'm not saying that you should sift it through your theology -- most certainly do so! that's part of why I despised Prometheus, as explained in the link above -- but I am saying that you shouldn't judge the quality of a work's Art based on how it stands on your theological stances. We should take Art in the context that it is written. Noah was directed by an atheist who wanted to dramatically retell the Genesis story. I don't know yet whether I'll like it or I won't, but I recognize going in that the director does not believe that God truly is -- I'll judge the work according to its artistic quality, not its theological impact.
So, for instance, when in the Noah movie apparently Russell Crowe has a manic-depressive moment when he considers killing his grandchildren. Don't get me wrong: I do not believe that Noah would have slain his grandchildren. But the purpose of this (again, I haven't seen the movie) in the movie is to convey the weight of Noah's consideration on sin -- he's realized that God is destroying the earth because of the sin of man, and that this sin is not only in the wicked people "out there" but "in here" -- in his family, in his children, and in his children's children. In that sense, it is a brilliant reflection on the doctrine of Total Depravity. And Noah's response upon discovering this is a logical one for someone under much theological stress.
And the depressive undertone isn't something too far-fetched -- we do read in the Bible that Noah goes from saving the world to getting himself drunk. Sounds like he may have "seen too much" and was trying to self-medicate. We could have a good theological discussion as to why Noah goes on a drinking binge, but it remains that we do not know directly why he did what he did in that passage -- and the creative license of saying "Oh! He's depressed because of the sin of man!" is a legitimate artistic perspective.
I say all of this to note one major point: As a whole, the Church does not understand Art. Think about it this way: Who gets better airplay on Christian radio, the artist who makes deeply nuanced and beautiful music with complicated lyrics (let's say... John Mark McMillan? Switchfoot? Aaron Strumpel?) or the worship leader who has written something that clearly says something theological? (Or semi-theological?)
This isn't about Noah, it's about how the Church responds to artistic media. Is a movie really "bad? I had a great conversation with some Christian friends last week, and they responded to a movie that I mentioned by saying "Yes, it's a great movie, but it's got some questionable things in it." I don't think that they were unjust in saying this (It is a great movie; it does have some questionable things in it.), but I do think that their statement was telling of how we as Christians deal with artistic media!
When I see Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam, I don't think that I would say "It's great art, but theologically inconsistent" or "It's great art, but too much nudity." Or when I listen to Beethoven, I don't say "It's great art, but he was crazy" or "It's great art, but he wasn't a Christian" or even! "It's great art, but he was so clearly depressed." To me, the modern Church's perspective on Art is one dominated by a perspective which fundamentally lacks integrity. We treat "classics" differently than we treat modern media; we treat certain things that are wicked different than other things that are wicked; we prefer unrealistic perspectives on our lives to stories that tell the truth as it is (for example: think of how beautifully-profound Gran Torino is; then think about what would happen if you removed all the cussing from it).
And we must be consistent even when films or art portrays our faith. If you dismiss Noah because of the liberties taken with the story, then you should never watch Prince of Egypt ever again (or sing along with that glorious "When You Believe" song at the end), you should avoid any Christian songs with off doctrine (quite notably, from Christmas music, "We Three Kings" or "Silent Night" -- okay, that last one is more of a humorous thought about whether or not the night Christ's birth could have actually been silent...), and most definitely we should take a stand whenever someone misquotes Scripture!!!*
(*Which, using an ancient Jewish rabbinical tradition, Jesus, Peter, and Paul all do. Multiple times.)
My point: How do we as Christians experience Art? I'm not saying that you should sift it through your theology -- most certainly do so! that's part of why I despised Prometheus, as explained in the link above -- but I am saying that you shouldn't judge the quality of a work's Art based on how it stands on your theological stances. We should take Art in the context that it is written. Noah was directed by an atheist who wanted to dramatically retell the Genesis story. I don't know yet whether I'll like it or I won't, but I recognize going in that the director does not believe that God truly is -- I'll judge the work according to its artistic quality, not its theological impact.
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