Saturday, June 27, 2020

God on Statues, Flags and Monuments

   What does God think about statues being torn down, or preserved? I can’t say for sure. I think of Joseph Heller’s humorous thought in his hilarious God Knows where he envisions David in heaven complaining about Michelangelo’s statue of him in Florence: “It doesn’t look anything like me.” There are beautiful statues, and then some really garish ones of Jesus himself.

   Not surprisingly, our polarized divide in America splits us into those who relish the demolition of statues, and those who are mortified. Some say Symbols matter! Others say It’s just a statue – although we might all recall a certain delight when Saddam’s statue was pulled down, or when Lenin’s lay on the turf. Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandias,” a poem I learned in junior high school, testifies to the ultimate tumbling of all monuments to human grandeur.

   When we witness assaults on monuments, and the reflex to save them, what we see isn’t so much about this or that statue or person. It’s rage at a whole world that has failed us – on both sides of the divide. This debate reveals clearly what I’ve said repeatedly – that everyone is afraid. Half of us are afraid that the world we’ve known and treasured is crumbling around us; the other half are afraid that the world they dream of will never actually dawn. If we just fix this, or save that, we'll stave off all we fear. But in our gut we know it's a vain fantasy.

   My questions are: How do we reflect on public images and their hurtful or helpful impact on people? And thus How do we preserve history while understanding why and how it matters? History matters. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, reminding us that the most common word in the Bible for “sin” is to “forget,” declares that “the guardian of conscience is memory… Civilizations begin to die when they forget.”

   Should we forget Robert E. Lee? His statue came down: many were glad, many were miffed. Was he evil – as a person? Or in the cause he life was defined by? By all accounts he was a noble genius – who fought to preserve southernness, including slavery. He was a pious person; but who symbolizes the systematic oppression of black people more than Lee? Does seeing Lee riding Traveler traumatize people? Some, yes. Famously, the Sunday after the war ended, Lee alone responded well when a freed slave walked to the altar of the St. Paul’s Episcopal church in Richmond. Other worshippers were appalled, but Lee knelt next to him at the altar. Not surprisingly, this story is disputed. Should we learn about him, and ponder such a life? Most assuredly.

   When my daughter Sarah was little, our family watched the local news, which featured video of me, as a religious leader, laying a wreath at the base of the Martin Luther King statue downtown – on his holiday. Having paid attention in Sunday School, she chided me: “Daddy, you’re not supposed to worship idols.” King isn’t an idol. No one is. The truth is, all people are deeply flawed. If we remove all statues of people with some embarrassing flaw, we’ll have no statues. Lincoln got syphilis from a prostitute, Jefferson owned slaves, King had affairs. The Boston Tea Party was looting, the wanton destruction of somebody else’s property. The history books are jammed with anti-Semites, racists, philanderers, oppressors.

   One of the lessons of history is we all have our blind spots. You may feel “woke” on this or that issue. But there’s something horrific in you that you flat out are missing. Lauren Winner wrote a book (The Dangers of Christian Practice) about the letters and diaries of plantation wives, who prayed so very devoutly, Lord, how severely should I punish my slave for what he did? Or, Lord, should I purchase 3 more slaves next week? Or, Lord, how should I read the Bible and pray with my slaves? – numbingly blind to the idea that the Lord might want her to let the people go. I wonder what it is in me, enlightened as I like to think of myself as being?

   I totally get that symbols can be hurtful, and can insidiously prop up what alien to our good and noble nature. We have great cause to abolish some symbols. In Germany, if you raise a flag with a swastika, you go to jail. Yet in America, we say the Confederate flag is freedom of speech. But we agree as a democratic people that not every freedom of speech can pass. Nudists can’t express themselves in public. And I’ve found that the people I know who wave a rebel flag and claim freedom of speech rage against a ballplayer taking a knee during the National Anthem. The flag is coded language, shouting to others that they aren't wanted, or included, and had better be very afraid - isn't it?

   During the National Anthem, does God favor taking the knee or standing at attention? Does God want rebel flags or is he more German in his soul? I feel sure the desire is for us first of all to dig beneath the surface and confess we are all broken. We are all hypocrites. We all have blind spots. And then that no image or statue will save us, or destroy us. As the Bible reiterates, the only image of God’s goodness we can trust is the image of God in every person. It’s in me, in you, in the other person you think is amazing and the one whose viewpoint makes you apoplectic.

   I'd guess God wants 3 things from us just now. (1) That we delve deeply into history, for there is so much that is noble, and so much that is tawdry; this is how we understand ourselves, the perils and the hope. (2) That we are gentle and merciful with one another; you are the spitting image of God, you’re deeply broken, you have blind spots – and the same holds for the other guy. And (3) That we aren’t saved by thinking right about statues or flags or parties or positions; they all matter, but they are as substantial as that crumbled statue Shelley portrayed in “Ozymandias.” And so are we. So let's figure all this out. Together. Symbols matter. What they symbolize matters far more. It's the image of God in all of "we the people" that God is focused on, and dreams that we will be too.

Thursday, June 25, 2020

Jesus on Statues, Flags and Monuments

   What does Jesus think about statues being torn down, or preserved? I can’t say for sure. I think of Joseph Heller’s humorous thought in his hilarious God Knows where he envisions David in heaven complaining about Michelangelo’s statue of him in Florence: “It doesn’t look anything like me.” There are beautiful statues, and then some really garish ones of Jesus himself.

   Not surprisingly, our polarized divide in America splits us into those who relish the demolition of statues, and those who are mortified. Some say Symbols matter! Others say It’s just a statue – although we might all recall a certain delight when Saddam’s statue was pulled down, or when Lenin’s lay on the turf. Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandias,” a poem I learned in junior high school, testifies to the ultimate tumbling of all monuments to human grandeur.

   When we witness assaults on monuments, and the reflex to save them, what we see isn’t so much about this or that statue or person. It’s rage at a whole world that has failed us – on both sides of the divide. This debate reveals clearly what I’ve said repeatedly – that everyone is afraid. Half of us are afraid that the world we’ve known and treasured is crumbling around us; the other half are afraid that the world they dream of will never actually dawn. If we just fix this, or save that, we'll stave off all we fear. But in our gut we know it's a vain fantasy.

   My question is one I think Jesus would ask us: How do we reflect on public images and their hurtful or helpful impact on people? And thus How do we preserve history while understanding why and how it matters? History matters. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, reminding us that the most common word in the Bible for “sin” is to “forget,” declares that “the guardian of conscience is memory… Civilizations begin to die when they forget.”

   Should we forget Robert E. Lee? His statue came down: many were glad, many were miffed. Was he evil – as a person? Or in the cause he life was defined by? By all accounts he was a noble genius – who fought to preserve southernness, including slavery. He was a pious person; but who symbolizes the systematic oppression of black people more than Lee? Does seeing Lee riding Traveler traumatize people? Some, yes. Famously, the Sunday after the war ended, Lee alone responded well when a freed slave walked to the altar of the St. Paul’s Episcopal church in Richmond. Other worshippers were appalled, but Lee knelt next to him at the altar. Not surprisingly, this story is disputed. Should we learn about him, and ponder such a life? Most assuredly.

   When my daughter Sarah was little, our family watched the local news, which featured video of me, as a religious leader, laying a wreath at the base of the Martin Luther King statue downtown – on his holiday. Having paid attention in Sunday School, she chided me: “Daddy, you’re not supposed to worship idols.” King isn’t an idol. No one is. The truth is, all people are deeply flawed. If we remove all statues of people with some embarrassing flaw, we’ll have no statues. Lincoln got syphilis from a prostitute, Jefferson owned slaves, King had affairs. The Boston Tea Party was looting, the wanton destruction of somebody else’s property. The history books are jammed with anti-Semites, racists, philanderers, oppressors. Nothing but us broken sinners down here, O Lord.

   One of the lessons of history is we all have our blind spots. You may feel “woke” on this or that issue. But there’s something horrific in you that you flat out are missing. Lauren Winner wrote a book (The Dangers of Christian Practice) about the letters and diaries of plantation wives, who prayed so very devoutly, Lord, how severely should I punish my slave for what he did? Or, Lord, should I purchase 3 more slaves next week? Or, Lord, how should I read the Bible and pray with my slaves? – numbingly blind to the idea that the Lord might want her to let the people go. I wonder what it is in me, enlightened as I like to think of myself as being?

   I totally get that symbols can be hurtful, and can insidiously prop up what is not of God. We have good cause to abolish some symbols. In Germany, if you raise a flag with a swastika, you go to jail. Yet in America, we say the Confederate flag is freedom of speech. But we agree as a democratic people that not every freedom of speech can pass. Nudists can’t express themselves in public. And I’ve found that the people I know who wave a rebel flag and claim freedom of speech rage against a ballplayer taking a knee during the National Anthem. The flag is coded language, shouting to others that they aren't wanted, or included, and had better be very afraid - isn't it?

   Does Jesus favor taking the knee or standing at attention? Does he want rebel flags or is he more German in his soul? I feel sure Jesus wants us first of all to dig beneath the surface and confess we are all broken. We are all hypocrites. We all have blind spots. And then that no image or statue will save us, or destroy us. As the Bible reiterates, the only image of God’s goodness we can trust is the image of God in Jesus, and the image of God in every person. It’s in me, in you, in the other person you think is amazing and the one whose viewpoint makes you apoplectic.

   Jesus wants 3 things from us just now. (1) That we delve deeply into history, for there is so much that is noble, and so much that is tawdry; this is how we understand ourselves, the perils and the hope. (2) That we are gentle and merciful with one another; you are the spitting image of God, your body is God’s temple, you’re deeply broken, you have blind spots – and the same holds for the other guy. And (3) That we aren’t saved by thinking right about statues or flags or parties or positions; they all matter, but they are as substantial as that crumbled statue Shelley portrayed in “Ozymandias.” God alone is God. God alone can save.


Tuesday, June 2, 2020

My Message on Race to my Church Family


   As your pastor, I’ve had many questions about our church’s response to the turmoil we’re witnessing in our city and nation. We begin of course in grief, in prayer, trying to feel the pain in God’s heart, straining to hear the pain in the hearts of all God’s people. We are to bring healing, to be a light to the nations, the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13), the repairers of the breach (Isaiah 58:12). It’s time, past time really, for the Church to be the Church.
   The Church has always been looked to in times of crisis for moral leadership. In Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan, some religious people walked on by; but one stopped to help (Luke 10:29). When something is not of God, we speak up; we do something. We do so peacefully, and full of love.
   I was both praised and criticized for showing up for a protest gathering downtown on Sunday. The clergy of our city are always asked by officials to be present, to stand in the breach as a buffer, to be a calming, peacemaking force. Clergy, on behalf of their churches, show up in communities to show the church cares. I know we all care. As your pastor, I embody your care to others.
   Everyone I know shudders over looting, breaking windows, smashing police cars. These are crimes, to be dealt with as crimes. But we can’t let the tiny fraction of people who take advantage of situations like this (and many truly are instigators from outside our city) drown out the voices of pain. We recall that our country has a long and honorable tradition of civil disobedience. The patriots of the Revolution, seeking freedom, broke laws. The Boston Tea Party was, after all, looting… Martin Luther King, Jr., deliberately and peacefully broke the law, and was more than willing to be imprisoned. Very different from petty looting, isn’t it? And during the Civil Rights movement, a turning point came when TV focused eyes on police brutality. After watching Bull Connor, Americans said “No more.” Jesus himself was a peaceful protester, and it cost him his life.
   Racism persists as a nagging, unsolved challenge to the good society we dream of. And it’s not out there somewhere. I laughed out loud the first time I saw Avenue Q when it came to the song “Everyone’s a little bit racist.” Like all white people, I carry lingering shadows of attitudes that were deeply ingrained in me at a young age. I have to pray and work on that, as we all do. Studies show white people’s pulses rise when they encounter a black person on a sidewalk. No condemnation of anyone here; as Christians we are always striving to be more faithful and holy.
   What we have to remember, in thinking about race, is that we are all people riddled by fear. Rev. Bill Roth mentioned to me this week that “In the face of fear, we will either acknowledge and feel it, or we’ll act it out, going on the offensive against those we fear.” We see and feel these things constantly. Christian faith is a healing for fear, God’s grace embracing us, telling us we are safe, and there’s comfort, no need to judge or get angry or lash out.
   We had some programs a couple of years ago on Racial Reconciliation, and they were great. My friend Bishop Claude Alexander of The Park here in town pointed out in conversation the other day that “reconciliation” is a misnomer – in that it implies we used to be together, we fell apart, and now we want to reconcile. Whites and blacks were never together as Americans. Blacks were brought here as slaves, and it’s been an uphill battle toward freedom ever since. Somehow for me, James Baldwin’s wisdom resonates with me – that many white Americans may have come to need black Americans, not just to work for them, but to help them feel they’re better than somebody else. As Christians, we trust God’s grace to heal us from any lingering hints of ever thinking anybody’s better than anybody else.
   In times like these, “white privilege” and “white supremacists” are terms tossed around. I am someone who’s worked hard. I paid my own way through school. But no one ever sized me up by skin color and assumed I would turn out poorly. If you befriend people of color (and not just one!), let them share their experiences with you. You may learn about privileges you didn’t realize you had. When we hear “white supremacists,” we might think of rebel-flag-toting guys trying to revive the KKK. I often see and feel something way subtler – when we white people think we understand black people and what they should be doing, although we’ve not really listened to them or lived in their shoes.
   So when people ask What can we do? it’s not like making a donation or saying a prayer or any one thing will change the world. We begin by listening. Make a friend who looks different, stick with that friend over time to build trust, and then listen, learn, share life together. If all the white Christians in Charlotte had longstanding friendships with black Christians in Charlotte, we’d have a very different city. I helped author and signed a statement from white clergy and community leaders simply saying “We are grieved, outraged, remorseful, and weary… We are with you.” Reach out to someone who is black and share your sorrow.
   What can we do? My answer is Everything. Where do you walk, bike, hang out? Whom do your children play with? Where do you shop? How do you vote and why? How do you engage in conversations about other people with your friends? Or at home? Lots of people are finding practical steps to take in this “75 Things White People Can Do for Racial Justice.” Ask questions. Have you phoned anybody? Lie awake at night. Nathan Arledge and others recommend reading How To Be An Antiracist, by Ibram X. Kendi. Maybe it’s not enough to say I’m not racist. Maybe we have to be anti-racists, working with others against racism.
   For God asks us to be responsible, to be our brother’s keeper, to love the stranger, never to rest until God’s blessings are there for everybody. On this, I love Martin Luther King’s wisdom: “Cowardice asks ‘Is it safe?’ Expediency asks ‘Is it politic?’ Vanity asks ‘Is it popular?’ But, conscience asks, ‘Is it right?’ There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but because one’s conscience tells one that it is right.”
   ** Your thoughts and perspectives, and your ideas about what God is calling our church to do and be are welcome! Email input@mpumc.org, or me directly, james@mpumc.org.