Monday, January 17, 2011

A secular holiday for a religious figure?

This is not an original thought, but someone once observed that the best way to domesticate a threat is to give the threat its own holiday. Yesterday and today, last week or this week, many people will be observing Martin Luther King Jr. Day with little attention given to how much of a threat his thought was—and still is— to the American status quo. For instance, we celebrate the nonviolent civil rights movement exemplified by King… while maintaining two wars and barely mentioning that King was an opponent of the Vietnam War in particular and all war generally. Racism and prejudice still affect many groups of people, although its explicitness is less evident. Racism and prejudice show up in more slippery and coded ways—as well as institutionally.

These are two immediate and general ways of taking stock of where we’ve come from and where we are. But today I am instead interested in the secular/religious border that “MLK Day” transcends. I do not have any of my text books from my K-12 days with me, but it always seemed to me that the story of Martin Luther King (the civil rights leader, not necessarily the economic, social, or anti-war activist) ran like this: “King, who was a preacher/pastor, was an important figure in the civil rights movement.” I think that history books, either for brevity or due to a religious blind spot, give short shrift to much of the role King’s faith played in his thoughts on how the civil rights movement should proceed. Then again, religious historians often complain about religion being ignored in American history. The nonviolent stance of the marchers and protesters working with King was not a PR stunt to show the viciousness of southern whites (although it certainly did that thanks to television), but the logical outworking of a theological imperative.

I contend that the history should be amended to read more like this: “King, who was a preacher/pastor, lived out his religious philosophy (i.e. the Gospels) in the public square as an important figure in the rights movement.” At least this accurate portrayal will be heard in some churches. While I do not wish to go so far as saying the religious camp can claim King's legacy over secular society, it is most accurate to say that the nonviolent civil rights movement was a religious movement with profound secular implications; the perceived boundary between the secular and the religious were frequently breached.

“Aha! Robert, aren’t you just magnifying the role of religion since you are a Christian? Aren’t you trying to sneak theology into schools?”

I could be. I think it is necessary to keep King’s Christian context in mind every time he is mentioned. This is important precisely because distancing King from his theology leaves one with an impoverished sense of why and how he acted the way he did. Even though I greatly admire King because his Christian faith is meaningful to me, good history also demands that we be accurate.

An extreme example of distancing King from his religious faith is evident in reading the work of “new atheist” Christopher Hitchens, who writes that King’s “legacy has little to do with his theology.” While Hitchens and others (including King) are quite correct that Christianity was a major force in maintaining the racial status quo in America, divorcing King from his theology shows a profound ignorance of King’s intellectual biography. King was not a humanist when he stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, as Hitchens asserts in his false reading…you’d also have to ignore the content of the “I Have a Dream” speech to reach that conclusion. It is little exaggeration to say that Hitchens’ method of concluding if something is religious is directly determined by how terrible the thing is. Hitchens exemplifies how the legacy of King could be divorced from the man’s own thought, unless historians and Christians publicly hold to a more accurate reading of King.

Luckily, King did write a short, easily accessible intellectual autobiography in 1959, full of choice tidbits. I will offer the bits that stood out for me, but of course I think the piece bears full reading, and your doing so will be more rewarding for you than my abridgements. In this short reading, it should be apparent that King understood his social activism in profoundly religious terms…and aside from domesticating King by giving him a holiday he would not want, the danger of having a secular holiday for a religious figure is that we forget why he acted in the first place.
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Below are the tidbits. I’m going to let King speak for himself, but I’ll put some brief personal commentary in italics.

“Liberalism provided me with an intellectual satisfaction that I could never find in fundamentalism. I became so enamored of the insights of liberalism that I almost fell into the trap of accepting uncritically everything that came under its name. I was absolutely convinced of the natural goodness of man and the natural power of human reason.”

“Liberalism’s contribution to the philological-historical criticism of biblical literature has been of immeasurable value and should be defended with religious and scientific passion.”

“It was mainly the liberal doctrine of man that I began to question. The more I observed the tragedies of history and man’s shameful inclination to choose the low road, the more I came to see the depths and strength of sin. My reading of the works of Reinhold Niebuhr made me aware of the complexity of human motives and the reality of sin on every level of man’s existence.”
King and Niebuhr seemed to be on good terms even though they had some slight disagreements. King sent Niebuhr an inscribed and signed copy of one of his books, and Niebuhr, already having bought the book, gave the unsigned copy to his son and kept the signed copy.
“I also came to see that liberalism’s superficial optimism concerning human nature caused it to overlook the fact that reason is darkened by sin. The more I thought about human nature the more I saw how our tragic inclination for sin causes us to use our minds to rationalize our actions. Liberalism failed to see that reason by itself is little more than an instrument to justify man’s defensive ways of thinking. Reason, devoid of the purifying power of faith, can never free itself from distortions and rationalizations.”

“In spite of the fact that I had to reject some aspects of liberalism, I never came to an all-out acceptance of neo-orthodoxy. While I saw neo-orthodoxy as a helpful corrective for a liberalism that had become all too sentimental, I never felt that it provided an adequate answer to the basic questions. If liberalism was too optimistic concerning human nature, neo-orthodoxy was too pessimistic.”

“… I also gained a new appreciation for the philosophy of existentialism. My first contact with this philosophy came through my reading of [Søren] Kierkegaard and [Friedrich] Nietzsche. Later I turned to a study of [Karl] Jaspers, [Martin] Heidegger and [Jean Paul] Sartre. All of these thinkers stimulated my thinking; while finding things to question in each, I nevertheless learned a great deal from study of them. When I finally turned to a serious study of the works of Paul Tillich I became convinced that existentialism, in spite of the fact that it had become all too fashionable, had grasped certain basic truths about man and his condition that could not be permanently overlooked.”

“The gospel at its best deals with the whole man, not only his soul but his body, not only his spiritual well-being, but his material well-being. Any religion that professes to be concerned about the souls of men and is not concerned about the slums that damn them, the economic conditions that strangle them and the social conditions that cripple them is a spiritually moribund religion awaiting burial.”

“I do not want to give the impression that nonviolence will work miracles overnight. Men are not easily moved from their mental ruts or purged of their prejudiced and irrational feelings. When the underprivileged demand freedom, the privileged first react with bitterness and resistance. Even when the demands are couched in nonviolent terms, the initial response is the same. I am sure that many of our white brothers in Montgomery and across the south are still bitter toward Negro leaders, even though these leaders have sought to follow a way of love and nonviolence. So the nonviolent approach does not immediately change the heart of the oppressor. It first does something to the hearts and souls of those committed to it. It gives them new self-respect; it calls up resources of strength and courage that they did not know they had. Finally, it reaches the opponent and so stirs his conscience that reconciliation becomes a reality.”
This is what it means to be a realistic—dare I say almost pessimistic?—pacifist. King knew so very well that death and suffering could so easily come from his convictions.  It is something that all pacifists need to wrestle with.
“In recent months I have also become more and more convinced of the reality of a personal God. True, I have always believed in the personality of God. But in past years the idea of a personal God was little more than a metaphysical category which I found theologically and philosophically satisfying. Now it is a living reality that has been validated in the experiences of everyday life. Perhaps the suffering, frustration and agonizing moments which I have had to undergo occasionally as a result of my involvement in a difficult struggle have drawn me closer to God. Whatever the cause, God has been profoundly real to me in recent months. In the midst of outer dangers I have felt an inner calm and known resources of strength that only God could give. In many instances I have felt the power of God transforming the fatigue of despair into the buoyancy of hope. I am convinced that the universe is under the control of a loving purpose and that in the struggle for righteousness man has cosmic companionship. Behind the harsh appearances of the world there is a benign power. To say God is personal is not to make him an object among other objects or attribute to him the finiteness and limitations of human personality; it is to take what is finest and noblest in our consciousness and firm its perfect existence in him. It is certainly true that human personality is limited, but personality as such involves no necessary limitations. It simply means self-consciousness and self-direction. So in the truest sense of the word, God is a living God. In him there is feeling and will, responsive to the deepest yearnings of the human heart: this God both evokes and answers prayers.”
Take that Hitchens!

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Notes (and nothing more than notes) on a tragedy

 “We already know what form the analysis of the assassination attempt will be.  Everyone will say what a tragedy it is.  Then commentators will take sides.  Those on the left will blame the Tea Party's violent rhetoric and "Second Amendment solutions."  Those on the right will blame irresponsible individuals and Socialism.  Progressives will call for more gun control; conservatives will say more people should carry guns. Everyone will have some sort of spin that benefits their party, their platform, and their policies….This Sunday, many Americans will go to church.  A sizeable number of those people may be hoping to hear something that helps them make sense of the shooting of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords and the others who had gathered at her sidewalk townhall in Tucson.  Some pastors may note the event in prayer and some may say something during announcements or add a sentence to their sermons.  But others might say nothing, sticking instead to prepared texts and liturgies.  Many will eschew speaking of politics.  That would be a mistake.” Diana Butler Bass [emphasis mine].

What would I say if I were in the pulpit today?  For my own part, I pray both for the victims and the shooter but I doubt I could handle the situation with the grace that Diana writes about.  And yet, as she says, something must be said.

In offering what the Christian response should be:
“At their best, American pulpits are not about taking sides and blaming.  Those pulpits should be places to reflect on theology and life, on the Word and our words.  I hope that sermons tomorrow will go beyond expressions of sympathy or calls for civility and niceness.  Right now, we need some sustained spiritual reflection on how badly we have behaved in recent years as Americans--how much we've allowed fear to motivate our politics, how cruel we've allowed our discourse to become, how little we've listened, how much we've dehumanized public servants, how much we hate.”

Diana does not say so, but by noting what we should learn through our spiritual reflection, we are indeed in the business of assigning some blame and offering critique.  The brilliance of her approach is that we are supposed to convict ourselves instead of shifting the responsibility to others.  She is offering an old-fashioned call to repentance… and that isn’t a bad thing, but ‘blame’ is an out-of-fashion word.

[Don’t let this fool you, I appreciate Diana’s column deeply.  I wouldn’t quote it at length otherwise.  It’s worth reading since I’m not addressing her central point.]

Along with many people on my Facebook feed, I think that the rhetoric coming from the Political Right in this country contributed mightily to the shooting yesterday.  Does that go into a sermon?  Like I said, I may not have the grace to leave that issue aside, and the desire for many to blame the Right may leave people disappointed if a condemnation is not forthcoming.  This does not necessarily make condemnation correct, it just means that strong words feel gratifying after such a horrific event.

And the to-and-fro of my thinking comes down to a central question:  in recent years people across the political spectrum have used martial and violent language, but how much direct responsibility do political figures and commentators really hold when a mentally ill individual decides to shoot people?  The Right is getting the blame on this one but they correctly point out that the Left has also resorted to violent language.  Perhaps the reason that the Right is seen as more prone to violence is because they are stereotyped as gun-toting looneys with hair-triggers while the Left is stereotyped as soft and cowering people afraid of guns.  Of course, it doesn’t help that tea party members come to events with signs that say “We came unarmed (this time)” and in some cases they do come armed.

Much is being made of Sarah Palin and her infamous map that put Rep. Giffords and other politicians in crosshairs.  At the time of its release, commentators predicted violence and this has come to pass. It is telling that websites supportive of Palin were quick to expunge the map from their archives yesterday, either out of respect for the victims or damage control.  Now the Palin camp is saying that the crosshairs were actually “surveying symbols,” even though the language of “taking aim” and “reloading” were common parlance during the same time period.  I can’t help but think that Palin and her supporters either 1) now realize that the symbols were irresponsible, but cannot say so because of the possibility of appearing weak to their constituency or 2) they still don’t see a problem with the map but know that the image is political trouble.  In any case, it is an implicit acknowledgement that words and symbols have a meaning beyond any original intent.

Most people are going to say that rhetoric needs to cool down, so I won’t harp on that, but I’m interested in what happens next in terms of rhetoric on the Left.  Keith Olbermann, a sanctimonious jerk who seems to me to be the Left’s equivalent of Bill O’Reilly (although Olbermann’s research dept. is much more accurate), gave a special comment last night in which he repudiated his own violent language and rhetorical excess.  He then issued an ultimatum to commentators on the Right to do the same, or give “silent approval” to what happened in Tucson   But, once again, I have to ask how much direct responsibility one must take for the actions of a mentally ill gunman, and more importantly, who determines that the line of violent rhetoric is crossed?  Is Olbermann willing to dispense his “Worst Person in the World” segment, since the 'worst person in the world' may arguably deserve to die at the hands of the state or vigilante justice?  Perhaps on Monday’s show, the “worst people in the world” will be the commentators on the Right who refuse even the slightest modicum of responsibility. Where will that leave us?

Rhetorically, I fear Olbermann’s ultimatum will be an exercise in maintaining a status quo.  If commentators on the Right refuse responsibility (even though they have undoubtedly contributed to the political climate) Olbermann has set them up to appear to his own audience as equally guilty of the deaths of the people at that shopping center as the shooter is.  I’ve already seen that opinion in my friends.  The ultimatum will most likely entrench commentators on the Right, who will refuse any responsibility instead of actually reflecting on their role.  I’ve seen that in other friends.

I can’t precisely answer how much responsibility a commentator using violent language has in the event that a mentally ill person decides to murder people.  But a good rule of thumb can be developed:  those who hold incredible influence with the public need to realize that the audiences they should worry about are the least rational people.  The problem is that toning down the rhetoric doesn’t make as much money, so we can’t expect the rhetoric to cool until audiences are willing to repudiate what appeals to our baser selves.  That is difficult to do when we are so invested in our worldviews and believe something deeply, whether it is that Obama is a Marxist bent on ruining the country or that conservatives are quite willing to maintain an American Empire while imposing theocratic rule (and this by no means exhausts the possibilities).

…Which is why Diana Butler Bass is correct.  The tragedy calls for a time to reflect on our own souls.  Christians (should) know we are flawed, so shifting the blame to others is the exercise of a slippery pride that takes ourselves out of the equation.  Reveling in Olbermann’s ultimatum is just as troubling and wrong-headed as pretending our words do not have consequences. Even as we call out others who act wrongly (because we dare not cede our ability to make decisions), we must keep a watch on ourselves so that our perceived virtues do not blind us to our vices.

If I were in the pulpit today, I would submit that there are questions we should all be asking ourselves:

1.      What am I afraid of? 
2.      How was I convinced to fear these things?
3.      What hope resides within me?
4.      How do Jesus’s examples and commands bear on my fears and hopes?
5.      What does it take to act according to the hope offered by Christ instead of the fear governed by the world?

Go, therefore, and proclaim hope to a world ruled by fear.