Why Righteous People Will Vote Whig This Year

This close to an election, it is probably insane to say anything about politics. 

People constantly tell me it is my responsibility to speak up about political things but I usually resist. The reasons are simple. I actually have political opinions. I am just not certain I got them from the Almighty.  So I don’t think it is right to place the weight of my spiritual office behind private opinions. That's why I try to keep quiet, especially during an election.   

A lady once insisted that I reveal my party affiliation. So I told her I was a Whig. A few days later, she returned to say she had discovered Whigs were extinct. I replied with shock, "that must be the reason it has become so difficult to locate my candidates on the ballot!" "Perhaps," I added, "I should think about becoming a Tory."

On a more practical level, I pastor a diverse congregation. After this blasted election I hope to keep serving all the people in the congregation. Eternal issues are at stake and are far, far more important than who happens to win this election.

Nonetheless, it is important to get under the hood of one’s political passions; to take a look at the spiritual forces that work at a deeper level than the superficial labels we wear or the clever sound bites we repeat. It is an important spiritual exercise to do this if we can. So let's take a shot at it.

Carl Jung, who, as far as I know, is not running for anything this year, said something important that can help us.

One of Jung’s most helpful concepts was that every person (and every society) has a shadow. The shadow is a collection of attributes that a person or a society possesses but does not want to recognize. According to Jung, we make no real progress in our spiritual or psychological growth until we acknowledge the existence of our shadow, until we recognize the reality of the things in our lives that are at odds with our preferred view of self.

People and societies are complex.  Unlike the old Westerns, villains in real life don’t always wear black hats. And, as you may have discovered by now, heroes don’t always wear white hats.  Good hearted and well-intentioned people can do bad things. Wicked and selfish people can do good things. Our real self is also more complicated than the spin we feed to ourselves about ourselves.

Sometimes, our shadow can exert itself so forcefully that we are as surprised as everyone else by its appearance. That is what has happened when we hear someone say, “I don’t know what came over me. That just wasn't me!”

Of course, it was me; the other me; the me I don’t want to acknowledge. But the shadow knows that it belongs to us. It  also knows how to get control over us at crucial times.  If that were not true, none of us would have addictions (or bad habits).

Groups have shadows too.

The people in that group usually don’t see its shadow though. They see only the good and wholesome things the group offers. Church people, for example, usually can’t understand why their unrighteous enemies can’t see all the good that their church does in the world. When they hear outsiders describe their church it just seems crazy.

A group’s enemies on the other hand, see only its shadow. This is why the way people inside a group and the way people outside it sees things so differently  Neither the insiders nor the outsiders are stupid. Its that the shadow, the group's other self, remains invisible to those inside but obscures its better self from outsiders.

For example, when nations are at war few of its citizens can see the crimes committed by his own country. Nor, will he see any goodness in the country with which his nation fights. Patriotism requires a man to deny his nation’s shadow as it leads him to over emphasize the shadow of his enemy.

Sometimes though, individuals and groups do see their shadow and like the groundhog want to run and hide. 

One rarely becomes aware of his shadow during comfortable times. Usually, some life altering event forces us to deal with the shadow.

For example, when someone enters psychotherapy he may come face to face with those traits and behaviors he has been hiding from himself his entire life. This sudden encounter with reality can plunge him into despair. He can go from admiring himself to suddenly loathing himself. This can be a dangerous period in which the patient becomes nearly unhinged, no longer capable of even knowing who he is. If he works through that painful season however, he may learn the truth about human life: that because people's true motives are mixed, we all try to hide unpleasant things about ourselves from ourselves. Emotional healing thus requires a person to acknowledge both his faults and his strengths, so he can then learn to hold his judgment of both those things as lightly as possible. 

Groups can also arrive at such moments of healing.

Immature groups rarely acknowledge their faults, of course. If a person in an immature  group begins to point out its faults, that group will usually move to punish, or even eliminate, the irritating person person from its midst. It is rare for a group to acknowledge that the one speaking may be offering some valuable insight that ought to be considered. Acknowledging the existence of the shadow however, may lead the group to make some great improvement; if only the group is willing to face the momentary pain of self discovery.

This is the role of a prophet: to expose his group’s shadow and motivate it to strengthen the forces of goodness, truth or beauty within it so it can celebrate those things and then share them with the world.

Ok. Enough philosophy.

Here’s what I think about politics.

In America, a conservative tends to think there is nothing wrong with our country except for the continuing presence of liberals, who are bad people trying to take our country in the wrong direction.  A liberal thinks there is nothing much good about our country because the conservatives keep holding back the kinds of progress that would make our country a better place.

One party refuses to see the nation’s shadow.

The other one refuses to see anything in the nation except for its shadow.

The difference often becomes visible in discussions about American history.

Conservatives may get upset at the suggestion that four hundred years of slavery is still affecting our culture or that our state sponsored genocide effectively eliminated entire groups of native people from the continent. To many conservatives, acknowledging such evils seems unpatriotic, perhaps even unchristian. 

Liberals, on the other hand, get upset with any emotional affirmation of the miracle of American democracy; with the fact that no other nation in history has done so much good for so many of its people in so short a time. To many liberals, acknowledging our country's goodness betrays those who have suffered or who continue to suffer from the nation’s shadow.   

One side refuses to acknowledge the brutal nature of life on the bottom of society, that there are societal obstacles that seriously hinder people born there from ever rising up, or that there are things the nation could do to help improve that situation.

The other side refuses to acknowledge that opportunities for social lift abound in our country and that numerous private forces in American culture are constantly at work to help people find and utilize those opportunities.

These differences arise from each party’s refusal to acknowledge the contributions of the other, or in some cases, even the patriotism of the other.

As a pastor, I have watched this polarization hardened over the years into something akin to a test of religious orthodoxy. Left leaning churches make it clear that a vote for a conservative is a vote against compassion and the nation’s common good. Right leaning churches make it clear that a vote for liberalism is collusion with the Antichrist and a failure to take a stand for righteousness.

But can this polarization be right?

Is there nothing good in American society that we ought to conserve?

Are there no improvements that we ought to make to our traditional way of life?

You know by now that I am one of those awful people both parties have come to despise – a moderate. I am not a moderate because I have no convictions.  I am a moderate because I have one very strong conviction: that neither side of our cultural war has it all figured out.

In the end of course, we have a two party system, not a multiparty one. So, I get to make one of two choices. That means I will not get all I want, whoever wins. And, I will have to live with many things that I do not want, whoever wins. That causes me considerable anxiety every time I prepare to cast my vote.

As I listen to the other side, I am convinced that our country would be a much better place if my party were not too proud to sometimes doubt itself; if it had even the slightest inclination to look at its shadow.

But some anxiety over political life is spiritually healthy, I think. It is the result of resisting groupthink – of not falling into the trap of “my side is right, utterly right; the other side is wrong, utterly wrong.” Healthy anxiety can lead me to pray, to read, to listen to the other side, to seriously evaluate things before casting my vote. Then I can do my best to vote what I believe is the best course but without hostility or judgment toward my fellow citizens who have come to different conclusions.

The spiritual word for what this kind of anxiety can produce in us is repentance, the acknowledgment of one’s shadow and a plea for human and divine help to deal with it.

Once we see our shadow, we stop praying like the old Pharisee, “I thank Thee I am not as other men.”

We start praying like the Publican, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

Mature people must, sooner or later, come to that point.

So must a mature nation.

But if you get stuck this year, please consider voting Whig. It really is the party of purity and grace. Just look at how far we have slipped since we abandoned it. But perhaps this is finally our year, the year the good old days finally return -- to us righteous Whigs.

Facing Ishmael

 The American South is troubled by the growing presence of Islam.

In a region where even ancient forms of Christianity have been rare, the sudden appearance of Hindus, Buddhists and, above all, Muslims, threatens to unravel our last thread of civility: both toward the immigrants and toward one another.  

Our inboxes are filled with warnings of conspiracies and Islamic domination. People are frightened.  Frightened people frighten other people. There may be real trouble ahead.

The events of September 11, 2001 set this stage, not merely because hundreds of people died but because that eventful day changed how Americans view their society and future.

For four hundred years, Americans were geographically isolated from other world powers. We enjoyed an ascendant role among the less powerful nations of our hemisphere. We had endless land into which to expand.  We rarely felt a need to learn other languages or study other world religions. Other people would adjust to us. That was the way the world worked. We had every reason to believe it was the way the world would always work.

The events of September 11, 2001 destroyed this sense of isolation. What decades of jet travel, the Internet, and geostationary satellite communications systems had failed to drive home became utterly clear in a few short horrifying hours. As we watched the images of foreigners flying planes into our buildings we knew we too were a globalized society. What was once over there was now over here. In fact, there was no more “over there” and “over here.” Everything and everyone was now intimately connected to everyone everywhere at every moment.

Since then, waves of alien people, languages, religions, food and dress have been continually pouring into the American heartland. The tide has unsettled American consciousness and threatened our sense of identity.

We are asking ourselves new questions. What does America look if it is not isolated from the rest of the world? What has globalization done? What can we do to reverse the tide?

At some level, Americans always realized they were a part of a greater entity called Western Civilization. Our grandparents studied Latin, for goodness sakes. Nonetheless, we tended to view knowledge of European history and European languages as something like playing Trivial Pursuit. Such information was impressive but what could one do with it? As for non-European cultures? Well, they seemed like figments of our imagination.  We didn't know anyone who had ever met a Turk or an Inuit.  

All this was especially true in the American South. Our social categories were visible and easy to navigate: White, Black, rich, poor, male, female, Democrat, Republican, Baptist and a scattering of other, minor strands of American Evangelicalism. One could pick from that list the elements that  determined how he or she fit into Southern society. Black, poor and female suggested a certain sort of employment, religious affiliation and place of residence. White, wealthy and Baptist suggested another sort.

What was one to do in such a society with an Arabic-speaking, Coptic pediatrician? Or a Chilean born Roman Catholic Republican? Or an agnostic Hungarian Jew?

Well, one could tolerate such unique characters. He might even enjoy their company, unless, that is, they tried to marry his daughter! The trouble came when people like that began arriving in groups. When a thousand Copts move into a town that didn’t even know such people existed before, it destroys the town’s social categories. If the Copts want to build a church, it means there will be new architecture in town. Looking at a weird doomed covered church like that will upset the people’s sense of identify.

There are only so many alien characteristics a people can handle. 

If a group of Mormons want to build a temple, it will make some people uneasy. However, even though Mormons don’t believe like other Christians, they least speak English. They eat hot dogs. They don’t wear funny clothes. They have names like James and Betty. We can adjust after a while.

The problem gets really serious when a new group looks like the people who are at war with your sons and daughters overseas. It gets even more serious if you believe this group seeks not only to enter and become a permanent feature of your society but is actively plotting to destroy your religion.

I faced this situation before, from the other side. As a part of an Evangelical missionary family in a Roman Catholic nation, we were treated well by people in the large cites. But when we wanted to buy land and build a church in small towns and villages, we often faced popular hostility and bureaucratic passivity. Usually, the people who sold us the land didn’t actually live in the town. Had they lived there, they may not have sold it to us. After all, their neighbors would have been shouting at them about ho the buyers were “American imperialists trying to destroy our traditional way of life.”

The American missionaries in these situations would often sigh and talk among themselves about how in America we had true freedom of religion.  Everyone, even Roman Catholics, could build a church in our country, even in predominately Protestant areas. “Why, this sort of persecution would be unthinkable in our country,” they would say proudly.

It is interesting to watching this situation from the other side. That's the way many Christians are reacting to Muslims.

Don't get me wrong, as an Evangelical Christian, I share the anger of many of my fellow Christians against Islam. Coptic Christians are persecuted in Egypt, or are at very least reminded they are second-class citizens. Saudi Arabia, supposedly an ally of our country, does not have even that much freedom of religion. A Saudi who converts to Christianity should immigrate -- fast! In many Islamic countries it is even dangerous to be the wrong sort of Muslim. Sufis, for example, don’t do well in many Muslim nations. To be a Jew in much of the Muslim world has become truly unthinkable.

So we American Christians push and prod Islamic nations to open their doors, to issue building permits for churches and synagogues, to stop using blasphemy laws to persecute Christians. We send letters to our congressmen about this stuff. We force our politicians to tell us how they will deal with repressive Islamic regimes. We insist that our fellow believers in Muslim countries have freedom to practice their faith as they wish.

Unfortunately, people in Islamic countries often view Christians with the same suspicion as we view Muslims here. Especially in small communities, the presence of a church can irritate someone enough that he decides to burn it down. When he does, it can be difficult to get a building permit to rebuild the church. Local religious leaders in those towns urge their followers to take a stand against the church. It’s the same sort of stuff one hears here, only in reverse. And, the Muslims over there read in their news how Christians are making it difficult for Muslims here. That leads to reprisals against local Christians there, many of whom we would not actually associate with were they to move into our town.

Neither Christians nor Muslims seem to know about the differences between the sects of each religion. Neither seems to acknowledge that we both derive from the same roots: Judaism. Neither seems to understand that we have a common and very intertwined history. Christians seem not to know that Muslims call God Allah because that is how one says God in Arabic, whether one is Muslim, Christian or Jew. Muslins seem not to know that Christians don't really worship three gods. Ignorance of such things allows hot heads among both religious groups to keep stirring the pot.

But all of that aside; as Americans, we allow any Tom, Dick or Harry who wants to do so to start his own church or even his own religion. Scientology is a good example. Even snake handlers have churches. Peyote smokers, Vishnu worshippers, and Rastafarians all get a piece of the action. We shake our heads at each other. We write our books. We make our arguments. But we do not forbid the freedom of any religious group to assemble, worship or build holy sites.

If, as Americas, we believe we have even the slightest contribution to make to the cause of freedom in the world, we cannot afford to deny any group, even one with whom we are especially aggrieved at the moment, the right to worship. If we do, we must stop pressuring Muslim nations to open up freedom for Christians in their countries.

We cannot have it both ways. 

We must learn how to adjust to a globalized American South. 

To make that shift, Christians in the American South must learn to disentangle three things we have historically interwoven:

·      Our traditional culture

·      Our faith, and

·      Our commitment to freedom of religion.

Our traditional culture is still a major component of this society. It is not, however,  the only component of the society. We are still free to enjoy our traditional way of life with those who wish to enjoy it with us. We are not free to impose it on those who do not relate to it.

As for our faith, Christianity transcends all local cultures and eras of time. Although Southern Americans have made wonderful contributions to the Christian faith, Christianity is much bigger than the nation and will outlive it.  We cannot assume that what is advantageous to one is advantageous to the other.  Sometimes we must chose between our faith and our nationalism.

 

Then, as Americans, we must affirm, in deed as well as word, that our constitution guarantees freedom of religion, to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Zoroastrians and atheists. If we work to erode this right for others, we are eroding it for ourselves.

The right way to defend Christianity is not with a gun, or by placing unfair roadblocks in the path of Muslims to build on land they own, or to put up signs mocking their religion. Our Lord told us how to defend the faith: “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” 

Given that, the right way to face a Muslim is probably over a hot cup of coffee. 

A Really, Really Important Book

A few years ago while browsing at Borders, a large book caught my eye. It  wouldn’t let go after that. It was called The Beginning of Wisdom, by Leon Kass. I glanced through it and put it back on the shelf.

The next time I was at Borders, the book called to me again. I gave it another look. once more I put it back on the shelf.

One can only read a few large books like this.  They require too much time and too much focused energy. I was not ready to make that investment.

But every time I went to Borders, The Beginning of Wisdom whispered so no one else could hear: “give me a chance. You need me. Take me home.”

That's why that day, at a time my sales resistance was a bit low,  I took the book to the counter, paid for it and then took it into my life.

Leon Kass wore me out for the first hundred pages. 

“Man is not woman. Man is not God. God is not nature. Difference and distinction is the foundational pillar of Biblical thought.” 

He said something like that that many different ways, again and again, until I was ready to put the book out of its misery. And Kass's vocabulary -- what in the name of common sense did he expect from his readers? 

And then, slowly, I was gripped by the power of this truly remarkable work. I began to see that The Beginning of Wisdom was not only the best commentary on the Book of Genesis I had read; it was not only the best commentary on the Bible in my entire (and extensive) library; it was, outside of the Bible, the best book I had ever read on any subject. 

It was like a buried treasure. One digs and digs because the map claims the treasure is there. And one is exhausted by the time he finally sees the ancient chest. But when he does …

The Beginning of Wisdom teaches one how to read literature. It teaches one how to compare and contrast Biblical thought with other philosophical systems. It does not scold. It does not assume one believes in God. It just describes what the Bible claims about reality, the implications of what the Bible claims to be true, and what one does with the conclusions he reaches about those things.

The book invites liberal, orthodox and fundamentalist Jews and Christians, believers of any other religion, and nonbelievers alike, to sit down and discuss this book that has probably influenced more people in history than any other, the Book of Genesis, the book of beginnings.

It took Kass twenty-five years to write his book. He must have known that relatively few people would ever read it. Surely he understood that he wouldn’t make a lot of money writing it. He would have certainly made a lot more money writing YOU TOO CAN BECOME SUCCESSFUL! Even more believers would have read a book like that than will ever read The Beginning of Wisdom. So he was writing a book that believers would be too bored and unbelievers too scandalized to ever read. Who the heck did he think would read this book?

But he wrote it anyway. And by God's grace, Borders stocked it. And by God’s grace I kept passing it on the shelf at Borders until I was compelled to buy it. And by God’s grace I kept on reading even after those first laborious hundred pages. And by God’s grace I allowed the book to capture my attention and keep it for several months.

After reading The Beginning of Wisdom, I went on to read The Great Code by Northrop Free, The Rebirth of Orthodoxy by Thomas Oden and then, praise God, on to the Brazos Commentary series. Little by little, I reentered the world of biblical studies in a way that has lifted my heart and energized my intellect. I have been wrestling with what it means to be a biblical Christian in a postmodern world without becoming either theological liberal or a fundamentalist.

The world is full of books, some of them good. Few of them are great.  Some of these offer a healthy vacation from day to day reality.   Some entertain as they seduce the reader into a new way of thinking. Some offer little entertainment but nonetheless awaken the reader from the contented stupor into which small minds keep drifting through an unreflected life all the way to a meaningless death.

Man’s Search for Meaning, by Victor Frankl

God in Search of Man, by Abraham Joshua Heschel

The Weight of Glory, by C. S. Lewis

A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving

The Seven Story Mountain, by Thomas Merton

Orthodoxy, by G. K. Chesterton

The Story of Civilization, by Will and Arial Durant

When one enters books like these, he is one sort of person. When he gets to the last page, he has become someone else. 

So here is my acknowledgment of debt to the secular Jewish scholar, unsure when he began of the origins or the meaning of this sacred book I had been reading all my life. Here is my gratitude for his twenty-five years of research, his unimaginable laborious hours of labor, his unavoidable doubts about whether what he was doing would do any practical good in the world. I give witness that his work found me one day in a bookstore and that I casually and flippantly opened his book as I have thousands of others, with little respect or appreciation that I had just been handed an opportunity to become wise.

May the Lord remember this testimony on the day of judgment. May the Righteous Judge recall that this writer was faithful to perform what providence had called him to do: write a life changing book at such great cost and which has brought him such little public acclaim. And may what has been done in secret be made known to all.