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Segregated Sundays

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“For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility.”
—Ephesians 2:14

There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
—Galatians 3:28

Why are our churches so segregated? Not just by race, although that is bad enough, but by political affinity? The early church was made up of people from all walks of life. There were rich widows and poor layabouts. There were Greeks, Jews, and barbarians. There were slaves and slave owners. There were young and old, rich and poor, male and female, smart and stupid, tall and short, native and alien, slave and free, extroverts and introverts, dark-skinned and light-skinned all in the same church. They had arguments and offenses and jealousies and lawsuits, but they still met together and worshiped together. Could it be that we have missed some central, unifying truth in the gospel?

I met Marv Sauers in 2006 a couple of years before he died. He was 80. He had been a pipeline technician (or engineer, I’m not sure what his job would be today) in northern Minnesota. He fought in World War II. He grew his own tomatoes and shared them with friends. (He grew and shared zucchini too, but—let’s face it—everyone who grows zucchini shares it.) We attended the same church, a nondenominational evangelical church near Hastings, Minnesota. He used to say that he was their token Democrat. When he died the church lost a little of its diversity. It became even more Republican.

I understand the need for a Credo. Without a statement of belief spelling out exactly what we stand for, the church could become a social club, standing for goodness in some unspecified way. Yet somewhere along the way being Republican has become a tacit tenet of evangelical faith. Why? It comes down to just one issue: abortion. Republicans are against it, and Democrats are for it. For many evangelical Christians, abortion is non-negotiable. If you are for it, it is like being for serial murder: you don’t deserve a voice in civil discourse about anything else. How can you vote for someone who favors killing babies just because they haven’t been born yet?

Yet there are plenty of liberal Christians who are also Democrats. They are brothers and sisters too. Some favor abortion—not, of course, because they favor killing babies—because they favor women’s autonomy. They see a world that wants to make childbearing the defining characteristic of women and use that characteristic to exclude them from full participation in other areas of life. Abortion may be an imperfect solution, but it is a solution within the control of the woman, and they favor letting a woman control her own destiny rather than letting others control it who do not have to bear the consequences of their decision. For liberal Christians, abortion is not a litmus test in the same way that it is for conservative Christians. It is one issue among many, not the one issue that defines a candidate’s—or a party’s—character. (It is plain, however, that a Democrat who opposed abortion would have as tough a time getting elected as a Republican who favored it. As with so many issues that divide America at present, there seems to be no middle ground, no room for imagining that those who disagree with you might have the best of motives instead of the worst.)

Our churches are as politically segregated as they are racially segregated. The same is true of economic class and, basically, any indicator by which we commonly self-segregate. The church is just like the world. The only difference seems to be that the Christians think they are better.

The reasons for this self-segregation are partly technological. In the first century, if you wanted to go somewhere, you walked. Everyone walked to synagogue. Everyone walked to church. Everyone walked to hear the latest theories discussed in the marketplace. If you went to church at all, you went to one that was nearby. For the same reason, people were more connected to their neighbors and communities. The people you lived near were the people with whom you worked, talked, celebrated, and worshiped. You were forced to get along with people who did not share your views. Our technology has made it possible to go to a church miles from where we live where the people are as like us as possible. Unless we deliberately seek out people who differ from us, we quite naturally drift into insular relationships that never challenge our prejudices about anything. Our churches even become adept at excluding difference merely by being unwelcoming to those who are not like us. This makes it possible to go to a church where you never encounter a dissenting political view to say nothing of different theological or philosophical views. We can go to a church where there are no feminists and talk about feminism as if it were hell’s agenda. Meanwhile across town a church of feminists is meeting and discussing how patriarchy is pure evil.

Somehow—and it can only be by conscious, deliberate effort—we have got to get out of our cocoons. We have got to accept that everyone who loves Jesus, no matter their theology or political party, is part of the family of God. I’m not suggesting we should not fight. Let’s fight among ourselves. Let’s bring to bear our best arguments and our strongest defenses. But let’s fight like brothers and sisters who love one another, not like warring camps who hate one another. Let’s open our minds and hearts to one another and learn that we might just possibly be wrong about some things.

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Fundamental Diversity

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“That’s just what I complain of,” said Humpty Dumpty. “Your face is that same as everybody has—the two eyes, so—” (marking their places in the air with this thumb) “nose in the middle, mouth under. It’s always the same. Now if you had the two eyes on the same side of the nose, for instance—or the mouth at the top—that would be some help.” Alice Through the Looking-Glass, Chapter 6, Lewis Carroll.

“The sun has one kind of splendor, the moon another and the stars another; and star differs from star in splendor.” 1 Corinthians 15:41

When I was learning about our solar system in school some 40 years ago, I remember seeing artist conceptions of the planets and their moons. The planets, for the most part, were featureless globes, varying one from another only in  color and size. Of course, Jupiter had its red spot, and Saturn had its rings, but there was no telling Neptune from Uranus or Mercury from Mars. The moons all looked the same, drawn after the manner of the only moon with which we were familiar, pocked with craters, rocky, and desolate.

What a difference 40 years makes!

Now we know a good deal more about other planets and their moons. Pick up a modern textbook about our solar system, and you will see much greater variety in the depictions of other planets and moons, especially the moons.  You’ll see images of Io, orbiting so close to Jupiter that tidal forces keep it hot enough to melt rock. It is covered with volcanoes, some ejecting plumes of lava as much as 500 km above the surface. Or you might see Europa, nearly craterless, but covered with fissures and cracks hundreds of kilometers long. You might also see Titan, Saturn’s largest moon, covered with a thick, cloudy atmosphere composed mostly of nitrogen but with enough methane and ethane in it that scientists speculate that combustible rains might fall on its surface. The moons in our solar system are so varied, from tiny Deimos orbiting Mars to Ganymede orbiting Jupiter, that it hardly seems right to call them all by the same name: moon.

The fact is, moon is an abstraction for natural satellites orbiting a planet. The process of abstraction always ignores differences and emphasizes similarities. One feature that distinguishes humans from other animals is an amazing capacity for pattern recognition, for an ability to abstract similarities and treat the abstractions in ways that uncover still more similarities, which in turn are further abstracted. This process is fundamental to human understanding and knowledge. It can’t be sidestepped or avoided. It is how we understand.

It is also responsible for many of our failures to understand.

For example, racism (or sexism, or any form of bigotry) can be characterized by abstracting information about a group of people different from ourselves often based on limited (or even no) direct experience and extrapolating that information to the entire group. My uncle, for example, who died many years ago, was in the Philippines during World War 2. While on patrol one evening, he was beaten and robbed by a group of African American soldiers. From this experience he conceived a terrible hatred for all African Americans. But why African Americans? Why not soldiers? Well, he himself was a soldier and knew he would not do as these soldiers had done. Due no doubt to other cultural influences of which he may have been only dimly aware, he seized upon skin color as the one defining characteristic that separated this group of soldiers from other soldiers of his experience and allowed himself to hate an entire group of people based only on their skin color.

Racism is an easy target since it is now almost universally despised. What about this sentiment from a recent Facebook post I saw:

If a group of workers organize to demand fair compensation, conservatives call it “communism”.
If a group of executives organize to buy politicians and manipulate markets, they call it “capitalism”.

Notice how it tars all conservatives with the same brush and refuses to see any differentiation among them. They are all the same. They are all contemptible. Of course, I could have just as easily used an example disparaging liberals or Democrats. We are all too willing to impute to our opponents the most self-serving motivations while claiming that we and our friends are motivated by love and justice. We are individuals, but they are an anonymous collective.  We are real people; they are manifestations of the hive mind.

But I began with astronomy, and I want to return to the physical sciences to pose a question: What if electron differs from electron? What if quark differs from quark? What if the fundamental particles that we treat as abstractions (in part because we can detect them only indirectly or not at all) are as individual as different people? One consequence is that science can never explain everything, not even in principle. Science must abstract qualities like mass and charge from reality, treat them mathematically, and make predictions based on the mathematics. The process of abstraction ignores individual differences. It must; two things cannot be similar unless their differences are minimized. No matter how complete our knowledge of reality or how accurate our models, we can never capture everything in a system because the very act of creating a model requires that we ignore some of the information. In fact, we could say that reality is characterized by this fundamental diversity. No two real things are ever exactly alike; being exactly alike is a hallmark of the artificial, of the mass produced—though even here reality intrudes and causes slight variations in the things we make. The ideal of what is made is exact correspondence to an idea in the mind of the maker, and the idea is always an abstraction.

There are consequences for philosophy, too. Kierkegaard sharply criticized Hegel for trying to create a fully integrated system that would explain all of reality. He pointed out that every arena of knowledge has its own appropriate vocabulary, precepts, and arguments that both define and limit that arena. Extending any arena of knowledge to make it universal also makes it into a kind of madness. It’s not that the project can’t be done; it’s that insisting on completeness and consistency does violence to fundamental human experience. A misplaced faith in the power of reason leads to madness because reason fundamentally deals with abstractions, not with realities. So reason is good and essential to understanding, but it must not be allowed to insist on understanding everything and making everything fit into its systems. For everything can be made to fit, but only by a Procrustean solution—stretching some things and lopping off others.

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Getting Satire

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Satire is not hard to understand. The New Yorker cover depicting Barack Obama in full Muslim attire doing a fist bump with his wife, Michelle, in the Oval Office while an American flag burns in the fireplace—that is satire. The artist has brought together the most outrageous and calumnious rumors and lies from all the email forwards and political blogs on the Internet, exaggerated them, and held them up for all to see. The cover satirizes the lies people so easily and willingly believe. It does not satirize the Obamas.

Somehow this cover has had two unintended and opposite effects. On the one hand are Obama zealots who saw in the cover an attack on their beloved messiah. They accused the The New Yorker of racism and giving aid to the enemy. They were incensed to see Obama’s image tarnished again with the same slanders that have dogged him for much of his campaign. On the other hand are the very rumormongers who spread the vilification and forwarded the slanderous emails in the first place. They rejoiced to finally see their views validated in the elite press. Neither of these groups got the satire.

Just to get a quick idea of how many rumors there are about Obama, I searched snopes.com for his name and found 40 entries. A similar search for McCain turned up only 19 entries. Some of the entries, of course, may deal with things that are true. But all of them, true or not, have been spread by email forwards, social networking sites, and private bloggers like me.

For some reason Obama has inspired twice as many rumors as McCain.

For those who still aren’t sure, here’s a short list to help set the record straight:

  1. Obama is not a closet Muslim. One (and perhaps the only) benefit of the whole mess with Rev. Jeremiah Wright was that it finally sank in that Obama attended a Christian church not a Muslim mosque.
  2. Barack Obama’s fist bump with Michelle was not a terrorist fist jab. It was more like PDA.
  3. Obama was not sworn into the Senate with his hand on a Qur’an. That was Congressman Keith Ellison, representing Minnesota’s 5th district, and the official swearing in does not use any books. Ellison used a Qur’an that once belonged to Thomas Jefferson for the photo-op of his swearing in.
  4. Obama is not the antichrist. Neither was Kissinger. Nor the Pope. Nor any of the other candidates who have been nominated for that role in the long history of religiously motivated slander. Saying that so-and-so is the antichrist or the devil incarnate or the reincarnation of Adolf Hitler is just another way of saying, “I disagree with so-and-so, but I would rather slander him than come up with rational arguments for my disagreement.” Remember what the Pharisees said about Jesus.

Obama is not a leftist ideologue. One of the criticisms levelled at him by many of his own party is that he is too centrist. The same criticism is being levelled at McCain by Republicans. It appears that both parties are set to nominate candidates that are closer to each other than they are to the extremists in their own parties. Maybe the next president, whoever he is, will actually bring some unity and bipartisan drive into American politics.

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