A remarkable speech

This morning in Philadelphia, Barack Obama gave his promised speech on race; and a remarkable speech it was, for many reasons. Reactions to it are all over the map, which is no surprise, and no doubt there will be many more to come over the next few days, but I think we can already say it was an excellent speech; and while it’s always risky to try to write history in the moment, I think too that we can say that whatever becomes of Sen. Obama’s candidacy, this will be seen as an important moment in American history. As Mark Hemingway wrote, Sen. Obama “spoke about as candidly and eloquently about race as one could hope of a politician.” I would add that he did so in a way that I think does honor to the promise of his campaign of a way through, and past, our current racialized politics to a future in which race doesn’t matter. I respect him for that. The question there is, given that Sen. Obama has now acknowledged and accepted race as an issue in this campaign—something he’s largely been trying to avoid to this point (except when he could employ it backhandedly by accusing the Clintons of “playing the race card”)—and thus consigned post-racial politics to the future, rather than seeking to embody them in the present, what will that do to his prospects? At this point, I don’t think anyone can do more than guess.There are probably those (though I haven’t seen anyone yet) who will blast Sen. Obama for not disowning the Rev. Dr. Wright and cutting all ties with him. There’s no question that the Rev. Dr. Wright’s views are offensive—and not just superficially, as he counts as his theological mentor a man who wrote this:

Black theology refuses to accept a God who is not identified totally with the goals of the black community. If God is not for us and against white people, then he is a murderer, and we had better kill him. The task of black theology is to kill Gods who do not belong to the black community. . . . Black theology will accept only the love of God which participates in the destruction of the white enemy.

It’s hard to swallow a presidential candidate being so closely associated with someone who thinks this way; so the argument that Sen. Obama should completely estrange himself from his pastor has force. Personally, though—and yes, I’m a pastor, so I’m biased on this one—I respect him more for not doing so. The Rev. Dr. Wright brought him to Christ, brought him into church, raised him as a Christian, performed his wedding, baptized his children, discipled him across two decades, and has been his mentor and friend for most of his adult life; in my book, anyone who could take a relationship that close and that important to them and sever it for the sake of expediency would be a person of no moral character and precious little courage. Whatever anyone might think of the Rev. Dr. Wright, he deserves better than that from Barack Obama, and I’m glad he got it; and like Paul Mirengoff, I respect Sen. Obama’s courage in giving it to him. (Though, as I should have recognized, he effectively threw his grandmother under the bus for the sake of expediency, and she also deserved better from him than that; that’s a move I cannot respect.)That said, it still raises the question, which Sen. Obama didn’t answer: why is Jeremiah Wright his pastor at all? This is, after all, a relationship of choice; Barack Obama didn’t have to go to that church or develop such a deep relationship with its pastor. Why did he? One cynical explanation is that he did it to give himself credentials on the South Side, building his base for his political career. Another, which I find more compelling, is that he was looking for a sense of identity. It’s easier now to call Sen. Obama biracial, but the man’s 48 years old—when he was a kid, “biracial” wasn’t an option. He was a black boy in a white family, and he felt it; and for all that his mother was white and his father from Kenya, most white Americans would still have seen him as just another black kid. It makes sense that he would have felt the need to identify with the African-American community, and that Trinity UCC under the ministry of the Rev. Dr. Wright would have been powerfully appealing; indeed, as Kathleen Parker suggests, given the prejudices and reactions of the white grandmother who raised him, “the anger Obama heard in Rev. Wright’s church may not have felt so alien after all”—and from his speech this morning, still might not.Taken all in all, I have to think Sen. Obama helped himself with this speech. It’s always brutally difficult to give a message that you have to give and can’t afford to screw up, especially when the stakes are this high and the subject is this difficult, but given that, I think he did about as well as could be expected. The question is, is it enough? Given that even if he has sufficiently addressed concerns about his church, that still leaves his association with Tony Rezko and all the fallout that may come from that, it’s hard to say. At this point, the only thing we can be sure of is this: when they write the political science textbook on the 2008 elections, this will be another chapter.Update: if Mickey Kaus’ analysis is right—and he certainly has more of a track record than I do—then Sen. Obama may actually have hurt himself here, possibly badly.

David Mamet moves right

In what might be the strangest event yet of this truly bizarre election season, renowned playwright David Mamet has published an essay in the Village Voice on “Why I Am No Longer a ‘Brain-Dead Liberal.'” This startling change of mind came during the course of writing a play titled November, which he describes as

a disputation between reason and faith, or perhaps between the conservative (or tragic) view and the liberal (or perfectionist) view. The conservative president in the piece holds that people are each out to make a living, and the best way for government to facilitate that is to stay out of the way, as the inevitable abuses and failures of this system (free-market economics) are less than those of government intervention. I took the liberal view for many decades, but I believe I have changed my mind.

Indeed, it seems he has, as he goes on to write,

Prior to the midterm elections, my rabbi was taking a lot of flack. The congregation is exclusively liberal, he is a self-described independent (read “conservative”), and he was driving the flock wild. Why? Because a) he never discussed politics; and b) he taught that the quality of political discourse must be addressed first—that Jewish law teaches that it is incumbent upon each person to hear the other fellow out. And so I, like many of the liberal congregation, began, teeth grinding, to attempt to do so. And in doing so, I recognized that I held those two views of America (politics, government, corporations, the military). One was of a state where everything was magically wrong and must be immediately corrected at any cost; and the other—the world in which I actually functioned day to day—was made up of people, most of whom were reasonably trying to maximize their comfort by getting along with each other (in the workplace, the marketplace, the jury room, on the freeway, even at the school-board meeting). And I realized that the time had come for me to avow my participation in that America in which I chose to live, and that that country was not a schoolroom teaching values, but a marketplace. “Aha,” you will say, and you are right. I began reading not only the economics of Thomas Sowell (our greatest contemporary philosopher) but Milton Friedman, Paul Johnson, and Shelby Steele, and a host of conservative writers, and found that I agreed with them: a free-market understanding of the world meshes more perfectly with my experience than that idealistic vision I called liberalism.

I suspect this essay will induce a fair bit more tooth-grinding on the part of a lot of liberals, but I hope people can get beyond partisan reactions (whether rage or glee) and read it for its own sake, because it’s a fascinating essay in practical political philosophy (not least for the presence of that rabbi, who I think is spot-on). Plus, I appreciate Mr. Mamet’s concluding paragraph:

The right is mooing about faith, the left is mooing about change, and many are incensed about the fools on the other side—but, at the end of the day, they are the same folks we meet at the water cooler. Happy election season.

A matter of trust

A year and a half ago now, a colleague of mine, preaching at our classis meeting in Colorado Springs, hit me right between the eyes with his sermon. He was preaching about trusting God, and all the reasons God has given us to do so, and how our spiritual life really begins there, at that point; in the moment that etched itself in my mind, he said, “We hear God saying, ‘Obey me, obey me, obey me’; but what God is really saying is, ‘Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.'” As he went on to say, yes, God wants our obedience, but not out of fear, or duty, or desire for reward, or any of the other reasons we come up with; God wants us to obey him because we trust that he truly knows what is best for us, and wants what is best for us, and is at work to do what is best for us.

And that’s the rub, isn’t it? Most of us, at least, don’t trust God for that, and don’t particularly want to. At some level, in at least some things, we believe we know better than God, and that God is telling us “no” because he really doesn’t want what’s best for us—he has some other agenda, some ulterior motive, someone else he wants to benefit at our expense. We don’t obey because we don’t trust; and even when, time and time again, events prove us wrong, trusting God still doesn’t seem to get any easier. And yet, through all of it, he remains faithful even when we are faithless; he remains trustworthy even when we refuse to trust him; and he keeps calling, in the stillness of our souls, “Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.” If only we will learn to listen . . .

A bad week for Barack Obama

If you look at the polls, you see that in the last week or so, John McCain has surged; where he was once clearly behind Sen. Obama and trailing Hillary Clinton as well, now he’s showing a narrow lead. Some of this is probably the ugliness that is the Eliot Spitzer story, which certainly hasn’t made the Democrats look good (and which hits Sen. Clinton harder, given her ties to him); more of it, though, is that courtesy of ABC News, America has discovered Sen. Obama’s pastor, the Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright Jr. Those who were paying attention knew about him already, but as with any powerful preacher (and he certainly is that), reading is one thing, seeing is something else again. The result has been to raise some serious questions about Sen. Obama and his campaign; given that so much of his appeal has been his image as a post-racial figure who can be an instrument of racial reconciliation and healing, seeing him so closely tied to a mentor who decidedly isn’t has done him serious damage. Mark Steyn, in his usual snarky fashion, has captured the reactions of many quite well.Sen. Obama, of course, is trying to distance himself from the Rev. Dr. Wright—a problematic thing when this man has been his pastor for two decades, officiating at his wedding and baptizing his children—but it may not work. Really, it shouldn’t; whatever specific words Sen. Obama may or may not have heard his pastor say, you can’t associate that closely for that long with someone of such strong character and opinions and not know what that person is made of. Or at least, anyone who could would be grossly unqualified to serve as president of this (or any) country.Unfortunately for Sen. Obama, l’affaire Wright hits harder because of the Rezko trial. Antoin “Tony” Rezko is of course a very different person from the Rev. Dr. Wright and has played a very different part in Sen. Obama’s life, but his trial has already weakened the Senator and put some cracks in his image. In particular, when Sen. Obama has been arguing that people should vote for him because “in a dangerous world, it’s judgment that matters,” it really hurts him to have to turn around and say, as he did regarding Mr. Rezko, that “his private real estate transactions with Rezko involved repeated lapses of judgment” (emphasis mine); when he’s been running, essentially, on his character, the appearance of character flaws is particularly damaging. It raises the question: if, as Paul Mirengoff argues, Sen. Obama is “the quintessential self-made man,” who is he, really, at his core? The kind of people with whom he associates closely suggests that we might not like the answer; and that suggestion, if it takes root in enough people’s minds, may prove to be the one thing his campaign cannot survive.See also:
Race and the Democrats, Part III
Race and the Democrats, Part IV
The Audacity of Hate, Part One, Two, Three, Four
The Audacity of Hype

Hymn for Palm Sunday

Lift Up Your Heads, Ye Mighty GatesLift up your heads, ye mighty gates;
Behold, the King of glory waits!
The King of kings is drawing near;
The Savior of the world is here.

O blest the land, the city blest,
Where Christ the ruler is confessed!
O happy hearts and happy homes
To whom this King of triumph comes!

Fling wide the portals of your heart;
Make it a temple, set apart
From earthly use for heaven’s employ,
Adorned with prayer and love and joy.

Redeemer, come, with us abide;
Our hearts to thee we open wide;
Let us thy inner presence feel;
Thy grace and love in us reveal.

Thy Holy Spirit lead us on
Until the glorious crown is won;
Eternal praise, eternal fame
Be offered, Savior, to thy Name!Words: Georg Weissel, translated by Catherine Winkworth
Music: Thomas Williams
TRURO, LM

Reclaiming the gospel?

I applaud the Evangelism and Church Growth arm of the Presbyterian Church (USA)’s General Assembly Council for taking evangelism and church growth seriously. All Christians should, after all, and particularly those called to lead a declining denomination like ours, which is declining in considerable part due to a failure to take them seriously. I applaud them for seeking to reach out to and inspire those “who have a passion for evangelism, for church growth, and a desire to share the gospel message with all God’s people.” I applaud them for holding a contest for middle-school and high-school students to produce a T-shirt design to help them do that; contests have a way of getting people excited, and unveiling the winner at the Evangelism Breakfast at General Assembly should stir up interest.

Where I have a problem is with the theme of that breakfast: “Reclaiming the Gospel.” There are a lot of things we might say we need to do with the gospel, but reclaiming it? In the first place, we don’t need to re-anything the gospel. It is already “the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes,” as Paul teaches us; it doesn’t need anything done to it, and certainly not by us. We just need to stand up with Paul, declare that we aren’t ashamed of it, and preach it.

In the second place, if we did need to re-something the gospel, it wouldn’t be reclaiming it. We never claimed it in the first place—it claimed us, or rather Jesus did, by the power of the Holy Spirit. Theoretically, we as heirs of the Reformation understand that the gospel isn’t about us—it’s something God did for us by his grace, not any of our own doing—and that the power of its proclamation isn’t about us either, it’s about the Spirit of God. To talk of reclaiming the gospel, it seems to me, gets that seriously out of whack, as if we somehow appropriate it and put it to work to accomplish our purposes. No. God appropriates us and puts us to work to accomplish his purposes through us. It’s Christ’s ministry, not ours; it’s the Spirit’s power, not ours; our job is not to reclaim the gospel but rather to submit ourselves to the gospel, to place ourselves at Jesus’ disposal, so that by the leading and power of the Spirit we may be used to carry out his ministry in this world.

I appreciate the heart being shown here for evangelism, but I’m seriously concerned by the fuzzy and human-centered way in which that heart is expressed. This is of a piece, it seems to me, with the very un-Reformed understanding of grace expressed in the Covenant Network’s mission statement, which I think also shows a laudable heart skewed by a serious failure of understanding; it suggests to me that our theological foundations have eroded to a significant extent, such that our guiding assumptions come less from our Reformed heritage than from the world around us. In the end, that’s no way to build up the body of Christ; it’s no way to grow the church.

Rebuild the parties?

That’s what RealClearPolitics’ Jay Cost argues we should do, at the end of a long analysis of the perversities of the Clinton-Obama race. The analysis is quite interesting in its own right, especially in his demonstration that the Democratic nomination process gives more weight to states that vote Republican, but I’m most interested in his concluding remarks:

We ask, why is Congress broken? Perhaps it is because the parties—the greatest mechanisms ever invented for managing governmental agents—have been stripped of their power. They have been given over to what scholars call “candidate control.” Candidates are not responsible to the parties and the voters they represent. Instead, the parties are in service to the candidates. There is no doubt that the parties of the 19th and early 20th centuries were malfunctioning, corrupt, and irresponsible. But rather than reform them, we decimated them. I think this nomination debacle is, in part, the fault of our disregard for the political parties. They are these hollowed-out husks that cannot handle the simple task of resolving a two-way dispute.

Here’s a question for you. Take the presidents of the last 40 years: Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush 41, Clinton, Bush 43. Granted, Ford was never elected, but neither were folks like Chester Alan Arthur. On my read, ranking the presidents, that’s one second-tier great president (Reagan) and a bunch of folks who are mediocre or worse. Now compare them to the presidents of the previous 170 years—a list which, yes, includes failures like James Buchanan, U. S. Grant, and Herbert Hoover, just as much as it does the likes of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. But still, taken all in all, compare the lists. Are we really better off for the primary/caucus system we have now for choosing presidential nominees than we were under the more party-dominated system of the past? And if you think we are, are we enough better off to justify the massive amounts of money spent on advertising for primaries and caucuses? (To say nothing of having to endure all that advertising, and all the rhetoric, and all the rest of it.) Our current setup is clearly more democratic than the way parties used to choose their nominees . . . but I’m starting to think we might actually be better off here with a little less democracy.

Henry Hyde, RIP

I’ve been meaning to post on this for several months now, and have kept getting sidetracked; which is unfortunate, because when Illinois Rep. Henry Hyde passed away on November 29 of last year, American politics lost both one of its most colorful and interesting characters, and one of its most profound conservative thinkers. Rep. Hyde was probably best known, and of greatest significance, for his long-running legislative advocacy of the pro-life movement, but his influence was felt across a great many subjects, perhaps most notably in his work as chairman of the House Judiciary Committee, and in his deep interest in foreign policy. He was a man of great gifts and great character, but what really made him a great American was his understanding of what his job required of him; as he once told a group of newly-elected members of Congress, “Permit me to suggest, on the basis of long experience, that if you don’t know what you’re prepared to lose your seat for, you’re going to do a lot of damage up here. You have to know what you’re willing to lose everything for if you’re going to be the kind of member of Congress this country needs.” Henry Hyde knew exactly what he was willing to lose everything for; and our country is by far the better for it. Requiescat in pace.

In defense of the church, part II: The institution

I had been intending to go a different direction with the second post in this series, but then Jared posted on “The Institution-less Church,” and posted a chunk I’d forgotten about from the interview Eugene Peterson did a while back with Mark Galli in CT, “Spirituality for All the Wrong Reasons.” Consider this, from Eugene:

What other church is there besides institutional? There’s nobody who doesn’t have problems with the church, because there’s sin in the church. But there’s no other place to be a Christian except the church. There’s sin in the local bank. There’s sin in the grocery stores. I really don’t understand this naive criticism of the institution. I really don’t get it.

Frederick von Hugel said the institution of the church is like the bark on the tree. There’s no life in the bark. It’s dead wood. But it protects the life of the tree within. And the tree grows and grows and grows and grows. If you take the bark off, it’s prone to disease, dehydration, death.

So, yes, the church is dead but it protects something alive. And when you try to have a church without bark, it doesn’t last long. It disappears, gets sick, and it’s prone to all kinds of disease, heresy, and narcissism.

Then put that together with this comment from the Rev. Dr. Paul Detterman’s sermon to our presbytery, on which I posted a couple days ago:

God’s Word is also oblivious to cherished structures and institutions we have created in our own image and then attributed to God—like denominations, and presbyteries, and congregations, and sessions . . . These institutions seem very real to us. We even mistakenly call them “church.” But not one of them exists with their own set of adjectives and attributes. There is no such thing as a “faithful” congregation or a “faithless” denomination. The structures that “organize” organized faith are simply that—organizing systems devoid of characteristics except what individual people bring in to them. This presbytery is only a gathering of individuals who are more or less committed to living as God’s faithful children—working for God’s shalom in God’s world.

Then let me add one other reference, this more of a personal one. My father grew up in the Church of God (Anderson, IN), which arose under the leadership of D. S. Warner out of the Holiness movement. Convinced that denominationalism was a source of bad things, he intentionally founded a “movement” rather than a denomination. Now, they have a college and a seminary, they have a headquarters, they have a structure—by any definition, they’re a denomination. By any definition except their own, that is; they’re still firmly “anti-denominational.”

I think one problem in all this, and one reason for the criticism Eugene doesn’t get, is that we expect too much of the institution, whether it be the local congregation, the denomination, or anything in between. We expect the institution to reflect God, to carry out the ministry of Jesus, to attract people, and so on and so forth, which is a set of expectations it just can’t carry. Dr. Detterman has the right of it—the institution is just a structure to organize our activities to help us function. Eugene has the right of it—the institution is a dead thing that protects and gives form to the live thing underneath. But that points us to the reality that the structure isn’t going to do the work of the church, because the structure isn’t the church; we together are the church, and the structure is there to enable us as we do the work of the church. To avoid facing that, though, we tend to pile those expectations on the institution instead, and then when it fails, we blame it, and denounce it, and set off to find a better way.

But what better way is there? Jared got it right when he noted, “the dudes most passionate about killing ‘church institution’ aren’t exactly institution-less . . . their institution is just sexier.” The example of the Church of God (Anderson) shows, I think, that the best we can do is replace one institution with another, because true institution-less-ness would be anarchy, and anarchy doesn’t work; as Eugene says, a church without an institution is like a tree without bark, soon to stop functioning properly due to disease.

I also suspect that we object to the “institutional church” because it gets in the way of us doing what we want; but in reality, that’s part of its purpose. Yes, there is a tendency for institutions to become self-justifying and self-serving, and that’s a bad thing; but is that the fault of institutions, or of the people in them? That’s a human sin, and attacking institutions won’t change it. If anything, doing that makes it worse, because the existence of the institution, for all its faults, reminds us that it has a purpose. We can still do all the touchy-feely “spirituality” stuff that’s all about us without any kind of formal structure, but a congregation that never really goes beyond that is about as self-justifying and self-serving as anything can be; what we need the institution for is to do the things that take us beyond ourselves, the things that actually require work and effort and need organization and structure to support them and keep them going. You know, all the “go into the world and make disciples of all nations, teaching and baptizing” stuff that Jesus commands us to do that we don’t always find wonderfully comfortable and congenial. The institutional church cannot be just about us. Maybe that’s part of our objection to it, too.

Is Richard Dawkins really an atheist?

Or has he simply rejected a watered-down version of God that isn’t the God of the Bible and Jewish/Christian tradition? After running across this joint interview Time conducted with him and Dr. Francis Collins in November 2006, I’m not so sure. Check out this exchange:

TIME: Could the answer be God?

DAWKINS: There could be something incredibly grand and incomprehensible and beyond our present understanding.

COLLINS: That’s God.

DAWKINS: Yes. But it could be any of a billion Gods. It could be God of the Martians or of the inhabitants of Alpha Centauri. The chance of its being a particular God, Yahweh, the God of Jesus, is vanishingly small—at the least, the onus is on you to demonstrate why you think that’s the case.

How about, for starters, that if one goes to Scripture and to the history of Christian thought—perhaps especially to the Augustinian stream out of which the Reformers arose, but not only—what one finds satisfies Dr. Dawkins’ conditions? This makes me wonder if he is in fact rebelling, not against true Christianity, but against one of the debased, culturally comfortable forms of the sort that moved J. B. Phillips to declare, Your God Is Too Small. (Interesting that he addressed the subtitle “to believers and skeptics alike.”) Certainly in a lot of ways, Dr. Dawkins sounds a lot more like St. Augustine and John Calvin there than he does an atheist.

Then there’s this, the final word of the interview as printed:

DAWKINS: My mind is not closed, as you have occasionally suggested, Francis. My mind is open to the most wonderful range of future possibilities, which I cannot even dream about, nor can you, nor can anybody else. What I am skeptical about is the idea that whatever wonderful revelation does come in the science of the future, it will turn out to be one of the particular historical religions that people happen to have dreamed up. When we started out and we were talking about the origins of the universe and the physical constants, I provided what I thought were cogent arguments against a supernatural intelligent designer. But it does seem to me to be a worthy idea. Refutable—but nevertheless grand and big enough to be worthy of respect. I don’t see the Olympian gods or Jesus coming down and dying on the Cross as worthy of that grandeur. They strike me as parochial. If there is a God, it’s going to be a whole lot bigger and a whole lot more incomprehensible than anything that any theologian of any religion has ever proposed.

Three thoughts on this. First, Dr. Dawkins sounds here a lot more respectful of religion in potential than he ever has of any particular religion; which suggests that his mind is rather more open on the point than I ever would have guessed, and also seems to me to further support the thought I voiced above. I strongly suspect that if anyone asked the right questions, we’d find that the god Richard Dawkins doesn’t believe in is a god the church doesn’t believe in either, and that his view of what Christianity actually is would prove to be more than a little out of whack.

Second, his lumping Jesus together with the Greek gods fits in with that; it shows real ignorance and failure to understand. If he sees the Incarnation as of a piece with Greek mythology, I hardly blame him for rejecting it.

And third, I think the root of that failure is to be found in the one thing that doesn’t occur to him: that that God he has powerfully described might have acted to reveal himself, rather than waiting for us to get smart enough to reveal him for ourselves. I almost think the only thing that divides Dr. Dawkins and orthodox Christian faith—and of course it’s a very large thing—is the absence of a doctrine of revelation.

In case anyone suspects this interview might not be representative of Dr. Dawkins’ views in this regard, he sounded very similar in a fascinating interview with Ruth Gledhill of the Times; he even told Ms. Gledhill, a Christian, “I don’t think you and I disagree on anything very much but as a colleague of mine said, it’s just that you say it wrong.” (Check out her blog for more thoughts and material.)