Politics, Religion, Sex

This post follows closely along the lines of the last one.   In my last post I urged us to hear and listen to those who are genuinely scared of a Trump presidency, as women or especially minorities, and who are already afraid because of an attitude shift since the election.  Many who read that post may simply have responded, "Oh he's just a Trump hater," or, "He's a silly liberal, brain-washed by the media," and I don't need to go on with the list of "or"s because we all know what people say in response to critiques of Trump--they imitate Trump himself, who this week, in response to Meryl Streep, proved again that he is incapable of listening to criticisms of any kind.  I'm not saying that all or even most Republicans or Trump supporters responded in that way, just that, based on my occasional use of Facebook, I am certain some did.  And the funny thing about that is that I am a registered Republican myself who often votes Libertarian.  I declare my political leanings with hesitation because two posts ago I said that pastors should remain as invisible in partisan concerns as possible, yet I do so now to point out how to assume, to refuse to truly enter into dialogue, indeed can make an a** out of 'u' and 'me.'  Our quick assumptions and judgments of people, along with our rapid and often hurtful responses, show that we have lost the ability as a culture and society, if we ever had the ability, to dialogue.  Dialogue, my friends, is a lost virtue.  For those Christians of us out there, I'd go so far as to say it's a lost Christian virtue and that those Christians who do not dialogue are actively falling short of discipleship of Christ.

We need go no further to prove that we as a culture and society are generally incapable of dialoguing than that we are taught from an early age not to discuss politics, religion, or sex in company, regardless of how closely related we are to our company by bonds of family or love.  The reason we are taught to avoid those three topics, the Big Three, we are told, is that to broach them is impolite.  The real reason, of course, is that to bring up politics, religion, or sex often derails a pleasant conversation and a verbal fight is likely to ensue; to cause a verbal fight is the impolite factor.  Yet we should ask, 'Why must those three subjects cause a verbal fight?  If we love one another, shouldn't we be able to discuss anything politely and in good taste?'  Stop to think for a moment and the answer should be, 'Why, yes, of course!'  And there we have it.

Unfortunately, we have no practice of dialoguing because we are, indeed, constantly worried about crossing the line into impolite territory and causing a fight.  It is our desire to constantly be polite that precludes training in proper dialogue habits.  On the flip side, however, is perhaps an even worse problem.  Many people who have been courageous, bold, or impolite or drunk enough to venture into a political, religious, or sex conversation often do not do so with a dialogue partner who is equally courageous, bold, impolite or drunk enough.  For example, I have on many occasion been to a gathering where someone spouts off ignorant, racist, discriminatory, or personally offensive views, and I have not said a word because I was not willing to cross that line, too.  So what did I, and everyone else, do?  We either remained silent or said, "Yeah... I get your point... I see where you're coming from."  If your discussion partner's replies are limited like that, you may think you have entered the politics, religion, sex conversation with love and grace, but you haven't really, because your partner is either offended by your tone or words, or is worried they might offend you.  If that happens, if we enter the arena of the Big Three and do not have a willing dialogue partner, and the reason they were not willing is you and your hurtful mouth or ideas, then you will continue on spewing your hurtful, and perhaps hateful, rhetoric to other unwilling partners with not a care in the world.  Then, if ever someone challenges you, you'll think that other person is the problem, and not you, because you've never been challenged before; even though you've never been challenged before because others have been swallowing their criticisms of your offensive, hurtful rhetoric and ideas to save you and them from a fight.  It is therefore my hunch that those people who are most unwilling to hear someone challenge their opinions, disagree with them, or critique them in some way, are the ones who are most holding us back as a society from being able to dialogue.  When a conversational speed bump is hit, they assume it's someone else's fault when in fact it is their own, yet they refuse to look inward and consider how they can dialogue better.

Take my wife and I as another example.  I had never fully discussed homosexuality, in religious terms, with anyone until I was engaged to her.  I therefore had zero practice.  I wager that she also had little practice because of the taboo around the Big Three.  When you marry someone, however, you are more or less forced to talk about all the major stuff, and if you don't then, oh boy.  Shortly before our wedding is when she and I first engaged the topic and, to be honest, it did not go well.  Discussing homosexuality in religious terms may have been our first fight.  My wife and I were not on opposite ends of the spectrum.  If we paused to consider for a moment, we would have realized that we were not so far apart that a fight should have ensued.  Still, my first reaction was to never bring up homosexuality again.  Thankfully, my wife did not have the same reaction and she did bring it up again, worried that we would have painful divergent responses to a gay child... and we fought again.  I don't remember how many times we had to have the discussion before we learned how to dialogue about homosexuality rather than fight about it, get mad, and stew for awhile.  Eventually, our conversations, our dialoguing, looked something like this, "Here's what I think and believe and why..." "Okay, I understand what you are saying, and to put it in my own words you're saying this... Is that right?... Okay, then here's what I think and believe in response to what I understand you are saying..." "Oh, I see... so you're saying this... Well, what do you think about this...?" and so on.  We used those 'I statements' that you hopefully learned in elementary school and repeated back to the other in our own words what the other was saying to ensure we were understanding, and then, because we were actually and truly listening, rather than reply with statements we were preparing to one-up the other while the other was talking, we responded to what the other was saying based on our understanding.  That is what dialogue should be.  Dialogue is give and take, with lots of listening and understanding, I statements (though not exclusively I statements), and love and grace enough not to ever comment on the validity ('That's stupid!  That's moronic!  Here's why.') of the other's positions except to point out, again with love and grace, any contradictions or inconsistencies.

It took practice for us to learn how to dialogue.  If I am honest, it was mostly me who had to learn, because my wife always began conversations trying her best to dialogue while I only tried to say what I wanted to say in explosively convincing ways, which meant I wasn't listening or understanding.  Of course, it also helped that we had, by the time we learned how to dialogue on homosexuality, publicly stated our vows to one another.  Over time, too, we both softened our positions.  We came to understand the other's position to the point that we included some of the other's opinions into our own, thus changing what we thought and believed.  That process was particularly significant for me, I think, because my position on the subject now feels entirely different than where I began.  Dialogue can do that to you.  If you are understanding the other person, you are thus open to change, and whether change in your opinions happen or not, the openness to such change fosters further understanding and easier dialogue.

Now, I mentioned that my wife and I taught each other and learned together how to dialogue and that it helped that we had stated our vows of marriage to one another.  I want to point out that marriage is, for a Christian, not the bond that should be tightest.  The most famous passage on love in our Bible is 1 Corinthians 13... about the love church members should have for one another. Indeed, Paul talks about marriage as a last resort if we are incapable of living a Christian life without a sex partner, to put it crudely.  While the stakes of not dialoguing with a husband or wife may be high, the stakes are even higher with our neighbors because God calls us into community, first and foremost, with our neighbors, not with a marriage partner.  Plus, an inability to dialogue with our neighbors--defined, by Christ himself, as everyone--obviously affects far more people than with a marriage partner.

Marriage is still a good analogy, but only to the point that we should consider ourselves married to our church family and to the whole family of God, which is everyone.  A society that cannot dialogue is like a polygamous marriage consisting of the entire global population gone terribly wrong.  Imagine.  To thus return to the marriage analogy: my wife and I, after our first few fights without being able to dialogue about homosexuality, were angry and confused and we stewed, just as all people do.  Neither my wife nor I are the type of people who seek revenge or to hold a grudge, but speaking for myself, it was hard not to simmer in that anger and confusion, feeling like I wasn't understood or my opinion wasn't appreciated or questioning how she could think the way she did after I so carefully explained a better way, and then have that anger and confusion jump out at the slightest provocation later to hurt her feelings.  The lesson I learned is that when we do not understand or are not understood in a marriage, we unwittingly hurt our partner's feelings later to shock them into seeing how hurt we were from not understanding or being understood.  I see this all the time in the global polygamous marriage of sorts that God calls us into.  During and after the presidential campaign, and to this day, many Trump supporters did and do not feel understood and therefore have lashed out at anyone who questions them or Trump, calling them morons or brainwashed, and vice versa, and then they also were not understanding which makes the lashing out more violent.  Without question, as far as I'm concerned, it is clear that many Trump supporters were stewing in not being understood and the anger and confusion that resulted, and the lack of dialogue meant that no one could understand them except Trump himself, which, again, ratcheted up the verbal and physical violence of a vicious cycle.  Now anti-Trump persons are the ones who are not being understood, and are too afraid to enter into conversation and dialogue because of the atmosphere, and so no understanding is being done, and thus goes the vicious cycle.

It is easy, as I've seen it being done, for someone who voted for Trump to call those who opposed him morons and brainwashed by a liberal media that lost.  It's easy not to attempt to understand or dialogue on the other side because they have 'won,' and all those who are still opposing Trump are just biased or politically motivated or sore losers and so who cares about them.  And I'm not saying all Trump supporters are like this--I'm trying to say that many anti-Trump folk are equally to blame since we are a whole society and culture that cannot dialogue--but Trump himself sets the tone that dialogue is unimportant.  That is dangerous and it is not Christian.  If we continue on this path, led by Trump rather than by Christ and our better nature on a local level, then we will reach the point where I and many others will not want our kids around certain other kids or adults because dialogue will have been ruled out of the question and the rule of the day will become saying whatever comes to your mind without ever bothering to truly listen to others.

Forget all I've said for a second about Trump and whether I'm biased or not and consider for a second that, essentially, a world where dialogue is not encouraged is a world where hate can breed.  If we are able to say whatever we want and not listening to one another because we know we are right, then love, which is God (1 John 4) who calls us into community (1 Corinthians 13, and many others) in which dialogue is necessary (James)--love won't be part of the equation, or at least not nearly as much as it should be, opening the door for hate.  For a second, just hear that.  Hear that we need to dialogue, defined as it is above, or else we will allow hate to exist happily in our communities, and that prospect scares me and scares away my hope for my children's interactions with people in the future.  For a second, let's stop there and commit to dialoguing in our own lives and encouraging others to do the same.  At some point, we will have to be courageous and loving enough to invite others into dialogue with us on all subjects, including and especially politics, religion, and sex, no matter how extreme the views of those we engage.  Dialogue, not just talk, as polite as it may be; real dialogue with understanding on both sides.  At some point, someone has to try.  Let that someone be us so that we can spread love, rather than hate, by the simple act of dialoguing.

We must continue, however, to address Trump.  We must do so because people do not generally change when in power.  Power magnifies character and often corrupts character.  Already, though, there is plenty of evidence that Trump is incapable of dialoguing.  If he is critiqued, the critic is a lousy person and he is great; if he is challenged in any way, he doubles down on his policies, often strengthening his regard for his policies, in clear disregard to what was just said to him, meaning he did not listen.  As I said in my last post, Trump's policies may work for this country, who knows.  But the manner in which he is proposing those policies and his character are very dangerous in a leader and, regardless of the quality of his policies, the refusal to dialogue in itself is harmful to the legislating and implementation of those policies.  If we are to have four years of this type of leadership, even if good policies are put in place, then we still definitely need to make it a priority to learn how to dialogue in our own lives and encourage others to do the same, or else the hate that many are now afraid of will become a reality because our top leader has let it.  Rather than letting hate in, let us instead dialogue, that Christian value, and choose love, which is God.

Second Generation Puerto Rican

My mother was born in Puerto Rico and at a young age her family moved to Massachusetts.  That makes me 1/2 Puerto Rican (or, more accurately, 3/8, with 1/8 Taino blood), 1/2 Hispanic.  Growing up, though, the only Spanish I heard was from my grandmother's mouth, a grandmother that I did not see much of and, as far as I recollect, mostly spoke broken English.  Mostly I remember my grandmother used Spanish only for exclamations, "Ay, que lindo," or "ay caramba," and the like.  Otherwise, English was spoken around me and my brother, as far as I can remember.

Around the time I graduated from high school, I began to wonder why my mother sheltered us from the Spanish language.  Indeed, why my mother sheltered us from our Puerto Rican heritage.  It wasn't just the language I didn't know, it was the culture and customs, too.  I like to say that I have dancing hips, but I don't know how to salsa and how to properly use those hips.  One half of my heritage and existence was kept hidden from me and I didn't know why.  Once I started to question who I was/am, I also started to wish that, at the very least, I knew the language.

Now, let me be clear, I don't blame my mother.  If anything, I blame myself for not asking and requesting information and that my mother speak Spanish to me.  I admit that I don't have the motivation to learn.  Most of the reason is laziness, and part of the reason is that when I do start learning Spanish (which comes easily to me), I grow depressed knowing that I could have already known what will take me months upon months to learn.  I don't blame my mother.  Perhaps I did at first, but I don't now because I understand.  With all that she experienced as a young Puerto Rican vying for legitimacy in a white person's world, and fighting with other non-whites for what sliver of acceptance was available, I can understand both that she may have wanted to distance herself from her history and that she may have purposely decided to shield her kids from similar discrimination. 

Until now, I understood my mother almost as an outsider.  Though I am second generation Puerto Rican, it's almost as if I'm twelve generations removed and from another world.  Because of that, I sought to reclaim my heritage and expose my children to a culture that I may never fully learn.  Suddenly, though, because of the cultural climate in our country that has been politically affirmed and, to a great extent, encouraged, I understand my mother from a somewhat shared experience.  Suddenly, with the rise of Trump and the spotlight on Maine's Governor LePage and his outrageous comments and actions, I am scared to admit that I am even partially Puerto Rican.  I had a friend in high school who once guessed that I am Filipino.  I don't see it and nor does anyone else, but at this point I'd almost rather confirm such a guess than admit the truth.  Most of all, I am now scared to raise my children with an understanding of Spanish or the traditions and history of Puerto Rico that I never learned growing up. 

It is hard to describe the why and wherefore of such a change in my attitude and approach to who I am and who I'd like my children to be.  I find it unfortunate that this is so because the reasons why I am scared to admit my heritage now are probably the same reasons other people have been so outspoken about their fear of Trump... and have been disparaged for doing so.  Looking at the political climate of today, it would seem that if Trump, or LePage, or anyone like them, makes a person scared or uncomfortable to the point of declaring so publicly, that person is now a political puppet using fear for a particular political outcome.  But I repeat the sum of my previous post: I do not want to influence anyone to render a certain political outcome.  I do want us to understand one another and do hope to affect a particular attitude in our political climate.  Essentially, our Constitution and our form of government request to the point of demanding that we hear and listen to one another.  And I am saying that the fear minorities, Latinos and Hispanics especially, have of Trump and those who he has empowered is very real and needs to be respected.  It is not a political ploy, it is real.

Perhaps the reason why I find it hard to describe the reasons behind my change of attitude towards admitting that I am Puerto Rican, and raising my children as such, is that the Trump propaganda machine lasted for over a year.  That is a long time that allows for gradual changes, changes that are likely to occur when you hear part of your heritage and your being insulted, excluded, and attacked as 'targets,' in the word of LePage.  Why would I want my children exposed to the possibility of being abused, verbally or, God forbid, physically, or ignored by authorities because that's the stance our president takes and empowers and allows?  Already we have seen this happening around the country and I do not want that for my children.

Some people, perhaps, are using Trump's language against him as a political tool to rouse up fear to defeat his policies or his re-election campaign in four years (which, if true, wouldn't even be as bad as what Republicans did eight or four years ago, to the point that Congressmen were blatantly saying they'd oppose Obama at every turn, even when they agreed, to defeat his image and re-election efforts... and I am a Republican who remembers well).  I can guarantee that most are not doing that, however.  Most are truly afraid and uncomfortable and worried.  It is our duty as Americans in a democracy to hear one that, to hear one another and understand that our neighbors and fellow citizens are genuinely scared, and ourselves work to create a society in which that fear does not continue; to oppose our elected officials, even those we support passionately, when they create or allow such fear without doing anything.

We must hear one another.  Too often people defend themselves and their favored officials by saying, "But I'm not racist..." without giving thought to whether or not they truly are.  Saying, "I'm not racist," does not mean that you are not racist.  You are racist if you do not listen to those who are genuinely scared right now.  You are especially racist if you choose not to listen, tell people they are brainwashed by liberal media and/or are just plain wrong, and then follow it up with saying, "I'm not racist."  If I were to say, "I'm not elitist or anything, but if you haven't read Pride and Prejudice or Paradise Lost, then you aren't very cultured and don't deserve to comment on literature," then a) I would have just proven my elitism, and b) told my audience that I won't bother to enter dialogue with them because I also 'proved' that I'm not elitist.  That's exactly what people are doing now with "I'm not racist."  They first prove their racism and then refuse to dialogue because they have 'proven' their openness.  That is easy for people who have little to fear to do and say.  But dialogue is the one thing we cannot afford to cut off in our country, in our democracy. 

Dialogue, the ability to hear and actually listen, listen empathetically, and then respond respectfully understanding how others feel and think--and that those are legitimate feelings and thoughts--is the trademark of any democracy.  It is the trademark of people who believe in God.  Yet that trademark, dialogue, is fast receding because of those who refuse to listen, who claim the fear of today, drummed up by Trump and those he has empowered, to be irrational and unfounded, and then refuse to look inwardly and consider whether or not they are, indeed, racist. 

I have now joined a growing list of people with a heritage that Trump and others have dismissed or attacked or insulted who are afraid and distressed.  Many of Trump's policies may work, who knows.  All I know is that power highlights a person's deficiencies and without power Trump has already empowered an attitude in this country that is not healthy for a vast number of citizens.  And so, all I ask is that we dialogue, that we hear and listen to one another, and instead of rushing to say, "But I'm not racist," or claiming that other people are brainwashed by liberal media, consider inwardly whether we are indeed racist.  But we must hear and listen.  We must dialogue.

Preaching Politics

After a long hiatus from writing anything other than sermons and letters, I am again writing.  I have found a purpose that can motivate me to take precious time away from resting while my one-year old son naps: politics.  This political season has been a mess, as we all know, and as far as I am concerned the role that churches and ministers played during and after the presidential campaign has also been disturbing.  Much of the hateful division we see in the country right now is due to Christians' behavior, who claim to be people of love and compassion.  So here we go.  I am going to start, or at least for one random post in the midst of writers' block, preaching politics.

Not really.  Indeed, preaching politics is exactly what I will not do.  I won't do it because the separation of Church and State is good for both sides.  To have the state influenced or run by the church makes us a theocracy, the histories of which are not pretty; to have the church influenced or run by the state questions the validity of the Church, as the origination of the Church of England makes rather clear.  On one hand you cannot have a state in which non-believers feel uncomfortable, threatened, or are disenfranchised, and on the other you cannot have a Church informed by the political whims of the state.  While it can certainly be argued that efforts to remove a religious presence from state operations, schools in particular, have over-exaggerated what a separation between Church and State means, it should not be argued that the separation itself is dangerous. 

Yet arguing against the separation is, essentially, what many now do, whether they admit it or not.  To be honest, this was the first year that I paid any attention to the conventions of the two major parties.  I was saddened that at both ministers prayed publicly and openly for the election of a particular individual.  And I am of course no stranger to the concept that Trump made prominent and that Evangelicals have voiced over the years of re-empowering Christianity and Christian churches.  Putting aside for now the debate over whether we can actually call ourselves a Christian nation, what we are seeing can be no other than a trend to want to put Christianity in power and is, a) an attempt to sever the separation of Church and State in favor of the Church, and b) dangerous.

It is dangerous for a minister or church to step over the boundary into the State for a number of reasons.  I won't touch on the fact that Christianity and the Church has not meant one thing since the Reformation and so 'putting Christianity in power' could mean an internecine Christian war, as churches fight for political preeminence, which is dangerous.  Nor will I touch on a minister's personal political ambitions.  A minister, like any other citizen, should feel able and welcome to run for office at any level.

What I am talking about is when a minister steps into the political arena on behalf of his or her church and/or expressly in the role of a religious leader and throws his or her support behind a party or a candidate.  Preaching politics in that way is dangerous.  It is dangerous because the church's identity then becomes partly wrapped up in political results.  For instance, if a minister says, "We need to vote for Candidate A because we believe in God," and Candidate A wins, then the minister and the church will probably say that God ensured the victory.  But can we really say God did so?  On a larger scale it's like praying that your sports team wins, and then it does, and you thank God.  Well, did God care?  I don't know that we can say, especially if Candidate A turns out to be terrible.  Did God condemn us to terrible political leadership?  More importantly, if Candidate A loses, then the minister and the church might then say, "Everyone who didn't vote for Candidate A is sinful, and God is now punishing us for the sins of our country."  Walking down that road is not only theologically sketchy and terrifying but practically so as well.  When ministers claim that a certain event occurs as God's punishment against us, the corresponding emotion is not compassionate but hateful or distrustful.  If an earthquake is punishment, then we don't then serve the victims out of compassion.  Indeed, we might not serve the victims at all, but if we do, it would be with an eye toward converting everyone because we can't trust that they are good people.  Arguing that a political decision is some wide-scale punishment only heightens the issue because then the fear and distrust of people extends to one's own neighbors or family members, or to one's self.  The only solution that is ever offered in such a scary time is to follow that minister's or church's religious advice.

And if we believe that minister or church, then we have stepped into the second reason why a church's overstepping the boundaries is dangerous: power.  The founders of our country knew that human nature is less than ideal, and so created a government in which a person's own avarice and ambition would balance and check themselves.  Unfortunately, many churches do not contain the same checks, allowing ministers to funnel power to themselves and to the church that they oversee.  Such power in the hands of the church is not biblical or God-ordained. 

Look, sure, Paul might say in his letter to the Romans that we should obey authorities, and Christ may have said that we should render unto Caesar what is Caesar's (and render unto God what is God's, the meaning of all of that is obscure), but the arc of Christ's life and the Christian movement thereafter pushes against the powers that be.  Christ's political life fought against Rome and the temple leaders and Paul's message of grace for all encouraged nonconformity with typical elitist power structures.  Many scholars argue that it was when Constantine commandeered Christianity as part of his consolidation of power in the empire that the movement lost its passion and footing.  There are a lot of good arguments and lots of good evidence for that.  So for a Christian group to cheer when a candidate promises more power for Christians and churches, and for Christian groups to petition for such a reality, is essentially non-Christian.

It's also non-American--though the idea that something is non-Christian should be more relevant for Christians.  The first amendment, including the freedom of religion, guarantees the freedom of all religions, not an established church or established religion.  For one church or one religion to be promised political power explicitly contradicts the ideals and liberties on which our country was founded.  We cannot say that our country is a Christian nation for this same reason.  Speaking of which, a lot of Americans, I've noticed, could use a history lesson on the professed faith of our nation's founders, many would be surprised.  But even if the Founding Fathers were all Christian, they, too, would vigorously battle the idea that we are a Christian nation. 

During this election campaign a woman said, "Shame on you," to me because I am a Christian pastor and yet was arguing against building a governmental structure based on Christian principles.  I mean, sure, I'd understand if political power in the hands of a Christian church, or any religion's church, is a good idea, but it's not--it's not good for the Church, for the State, and because of that, it's non-American.  I as a pastor have to put aside any political ambitions I may have on behalf of the Church because doing otherwise would work to destroy the principles of my faith and the principles of my country.

So what is the role of a minister and of the Church in politics?  First it should be said that churches can still be political.  The word polis, from which we get politics, and the Greek work from which we get 'liturgy,' meaning 'work of the people,' are quite similar.  Just as Christ was a prophetic force on behalf of the oppressed, poor, and ravaged, so should churches be--to do the work of the people, of all the children of God.  That is where our political force should be centered: fighting for justice for the forgotten and destitute.  What the Church's political arm should be is prophetic for those who have less, not for the privileged.  Neither should the Church's political arm aim for amassing its own power to become privileged itself. 

Described in this way, what the Church's mission should be differs widely from what the most public expression of the Church is.  Those that we style Evangelicals seem to be pushing for its own political power, and gaining it, while ignoring those most oppressed and ravaged (refugees in particular).  At the same time the Church pushes for approval of certain policies, like a ban on abortion or gay marriage, which amount to a reduction of freedom of religion because, again, we cannot somehow gain freedom of religion for our way of believing without also guaranteeing freedom of religion for other faith systems that, in this case, may be okay with abortion or gay marriage.  By pushing for certain policies the Church is, again, trying to grab power for certain segments rather than fighting for justice in the name of Christ.

Likewise, what a minister's role is, or at least could be, entails preaching the morals and ideals of Christ rather than policies that may agree with our own theology but not the theology of other Christians or people of other faiths or no faith.  On behalf of the Church a minister should only preach on living grace.  Preaching in favor of a candidate or a policy runs in the above issues.  Preaching discipleship of Christ, however, encourages people to live better and trust in God rather than hope in greater power. 

There is a time for a minister to fill the Bonhoeffer role, though.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German pastor who was executed during World War II for conspiring to assassinate Hitler.  Bonhoeffer may forever afterwards exemplify when the time is right for a minister to cross the line: when a political leader corrupts an entire nation into doing downright evil.  What's interesting here is that those ministers and churches who did cross a line did so in favor of the one candidate who could most provoke the Bonhoeffer effect.  With all that Trump said and promised, and has continued to say and promised since the election, throwing public support behind him as a pastor or church amounts to blinded hypocrisy and disavowal of our own principles.  I'm stopping well short, or at least short, of saying that individual Christians who supported Trump are hypocritical or disavowing his or her faith.  Deciding who to vote for this election season was complicated and difficult, more so than normal, and particularly so for Republicans or right-leaning independents.  Behind the exterior of Trump there are policies that one could reasonably support.  That does not change, however, that the attacks Trump leveled against whole swaths of people makes a minister's or church's public support of Trump hypocritical and sad in the light of Christian principles--not to mention dangerous given our country's Constitution. 

In all of this, my points are these: 1) while we as individuals should use our faith as a guide in our involvement in the political sphere, inserting our faith into politics as a tool for power or victory is not appropriate and often dangerous; and 2) a minister or church, of any faith, should never make political pronouncements except to prophesy on behalf of the oppressed that the government seems to want to ignore.  Whether we look to point one or two, the events of the campaign season and the results of it are troubling, especially as many Christians are now claiming political (and because political, spiritual) victory in the name of God over and against other Christians and definitely non-Christians.  That's not very Christian of us.  My prayer is that we can pull back before we institute a theocracy in all but name.

More posts to come.