Bill Kristol on conservative intolerance

As noted, I have my reservations about the Beck rally last Saturday, but I do appreciate the opportunity it gave Bill Kristol for this comment:

So evangelical Christian Sarah Palin spent Friday night with (mostly) observant Jews, along with various Christians, including some Amish. Then on Saturday she spoke at a rally hosted by a Mormon who went out of his way in his remarks to refer to the important role of “churches, synagogues and mosques” in American life.

Early Monday morning, as it happened, I received an e-mail from (Catholic convert) Newt Gingrich from Rome, asking for contact information for a (Jewish) scholar whose book on certain (not very religious) enlightenment thinkers he was reading.

Welcome to today’s intolerant, divisive, close-minded, and just plain scary American conservatism.

How’s that “changing Washington” thing working?

Judging by Gov. Christie’s experience in New Jersey, not so well. As you may have heard, the state’s Race to the Top application was disqualified, costing the state some $400 million, “because some clerk in Trenton turned in the wrong Excel spreadsheet”; out of a thousand-plus-page application, one page was incorrectly submitted, so the U.S. Department of Education threw out the whole thing. As you can probably imagine, the governor was not at all happy.

Was the administration being petty, seizing an excuse to deny funding to a political opponent? Maybe; and then again, maybe not. After all, one should never ascribe to malice what can be explained perfectly well by incompetence. Either way, though, this is exactly the sort of thing that Barack Obama promised us his administration would not be about. I don’t blame him for not keeping his promise to change Washington—it was beyond human capability; but I don’t think it speaks well of him that he made it, or of so many others that they actually believed it. And if preventing these sorts of occurrences is too much to ask, one would think they could at least show some sort of commitment to setting them right. (Unless, just maybe, they actually are playing petty politics.)

It should be noted that the DoE did have one rejoinder to Gov. Christie: they released a video proving that NJ state education commissioner Bret Schundler had not in fact verbally given them the correct information. When the governor found out that his education commissioner had lied to him, he fired Schundler after all.

An ironic unintended consequence of Obamacare

I’ve posted before about Obamacare and the Law of Unintended Consequences, pointing out the great potential for government aggression in the health care sector of our economy to produce exactly the opposite of its intended purpose—but I have to admit, this one surprised me anyway:

Faced with mounting debt and looming costs from the new federal health-care law, many local governments are leaving the hospital business, shedding public facilities that can be the caregiver of last resort. . . .

More than a fifth of the nation’s 5,000 hospitals are owned by governments and many are drowning in debt caused by rising health-care costs, a spike in uninsured patients, cuts in Medicare and Medicaid and payments on construction bonds sold in fatter times. Because most public hospitals tend to be solo operations, they don’t enjoy the economies of scale, or more generous insurance contracts, which bolster revenue at many larger nonprofit and for-profit systems.

Local officials also predict an expensive future as new requirements—for technology, quality accounting and care coordination—start under the overhaul, which became law in March.

Moody’s Investors Service said in April that many standalone hospitals won’t have the resources to invest in information technology or manage bundled payments well. Many nonprofits have bad credit ratings and in a tight credit market cannot borrow money, either. Meantime, the federal government is expected to cut aid to hospitals.

Yes, you’re reading that right: the expansion of government-run health care looks to be resulting in . . . less government-run health care, and more for-profit hospitals.

Would Browncoats still have been brown in the ’80s?

This went by a while ago, but I decided I couldn’t resist posting it; as it happens, I love the real title sequence for Firefly, but this ’80s-style version from the folks at i09 is a lot of fun, too; and while they only get two cheers as a result of leaving out Simon (and no, I don’t buy the excuse), they get most of the third one back for the way they fixed that.

It’s a shame Fox mishandled the show so badly; but I haven’t given up hope. You can knock a Browncoat down . . . but keeping one down is quite another matter.

On not praying for a religious revival

A Mormon television star stands in front of the Lincoln Memorial and calls American Christians to revival. He assembles some evangelical celebrities to give testimonies, and then preaches a God and country revivalism that leaves the evangelicals cheering that they’ve heard the gospel, right there in the nation’s capital.

The news media pronounces him the new leader of America’s Christian conservative movement, and a flock of America’s Christian conservatives have no problem with that.

That’s Russell Moore’s brief summary of the rally Glenn Beck pulled together on the Mall in Washington, D.C. last Saturday (HT: Jared Wilson), and it seems to me to be more or less fair. It’s certainly generated a lot of praise and positive commentary for Beck from people in the American church; but it troubles me. Indeed—though I’m not one for theological purity tests in politics, like this guy seems to me to be advocating, as a precondition for working together for the common good—I have to agree with Dr. Moore: this is a scandal.

In order to be this gullible, American Christians have had to endure years of vacuous talk about undefined “revival” and “turning America back to God” that was less about anything uniquely Christian than about, at best, a generically theistic civil religion and, at worst, some partisan political movement.

Rather than cultivating a Christian vision of justice and the common good (which would have, by necessity, been nuanced enough to put us sometimes at odds with our political allies), we’ve relied on populist God-and-country sloganeering and outrage-generating talking heads. We’ve tolerated heresy and buffoonery in our leadership as long as with it there is sufficient political “conservatism” and a sufficient commercial venue to sell our books and products.

Too often, and for too long, American “Christianity” has been a political agenda in search of a gospel useful enough to accommodate it. There is a liberation theology of the Left, and there is also a liberation theology of the Right, and both are at heart mammon worship. The liberation theology of the Left often wants a Barabbas, to fight off the oppressors as though our ultimate problem were the reign of Rome and not the reign of death. The liberation theology of the Right wants a golden calf, to represent religion and to remind us of all the economic security we had in Egypt. Both want a Caesar or a Pharaoh, not a Messiah.

This points us to the heart of the problem here, which is thinking that “religion” as such is a good thing that should be encouraged. (Actually, I’ve been starting to think lately that there might be a deeper epistemological error here, that of thinking that “religion” as such is even a thing at all, rather than merely a category for organizing our thinking . . . but that’s a post for another time.) From a biblical point of view, this is pure tripe. Religion is simply an inevitable part of human existence, because we are created for worship and wired for belief. It’s not a matter of whether we have a religion or not—it’s whether our religion is true or not, whether we’re worshiping the one true and living God or a false and dead god of our own preference and design.

Nor is it a matter of whether our religion produces moral behavior. Even if one were to begin by assuming that all the values and standards and virtues that conservatives defend are in fact right, that would not in the least mean that a religion which produced such morality must necessarily be right and good. As Michael Horton tells the story,

Over a half-century ago, Donald Grey Barnhouse, pastor of Philadelphia’s Tenth Presbyterian Church, gave his CBS radio audience a different picture of what it would look like if Satan took control of a town in America. He said that all of the bars and pool halls would be closed, pornography banished, pristine streets and sidewalks would be occupied by tidy pedestrians who smiled at each other. There would be no swearing. The kids would answer “Yes, sir,” “No, ma’am,” and the churches would be full on Sunday . . . where Christ is not preached.

Satan’s main goal isn’t to make us immoral, it’s to turn us away from God in whatever direction works best. All else being equal, I would imagine Satan would prefer it if we were all engaged in making each other as miserable as inhumanly possible, but all else never is equal, and those sorts of situations have this one major drawback for the infernal one: they make the reality and gravity of human sin eye-blastingly clear, creating a desire for change. If human damnation is the goal, there are more effective and efficient ways.

The scenario the Rev. Dr. Barnhouse painted is one of them, in which the form of godliness is used to keep people from realizing the absence of its reality. In such a community, people could feel themselves perfectly good Christians without feeling in any way their need for Christ—no need for a Savior, because no apparent reason to need salvation. Such a city would be perfectly religious, in a way that would satisfy everything last Saturday’s rally seemed to be about; it would be full of the sort of religion that President Eisenhower famously declared is necessary for the American system of government to make sense. And doesn’t it look an awful lot like the vision Beck held out to his audience? And yet, it would be profoundly wrong.

This is the kind of religion that Satan loves: religion that’s all about us, that exists and is defended primarily because of its utility for human goals and purposes . . . and thus can be the means of enslaving us to those goals and purposes. That sort of religious revival would no doubt create many happy and self-satisfied churches, in the short run; but in the long run, it would bring the destruction of everything it promised. If I’m reading Beck right, this is the kind of religious revival he wants to see, and the kind of revival he’s trying to promote, because it’s a revival designed to do what he values. But it’s nothing I can get behind.

Do I want to see revival? Yes, but not of “religion” generally, or “faith” in some abstract sense. There is no value to “religion” if it’s a human religion or directed toward human purposes, and no value in faith that’s directed to anyone or anything other than Jesus Christ. Indeed, there’s no value to faith in God if we don’t immediately follow that up by saying that we mean God as revealed in Jesus. I don’t want to see anything that looks like revival if it isn’t all about Jesus as Jesus points us to the Father; I don’t want to see any kind of revival that can be created by scheduling and rallies and speakers and programs. And I most certainly don’t want any proclaimed revival that comes with, or on, a political platform. That kind of revival has the religion, but it doesn’t have the life.

The only kind of revival I want to see is one that can only be created by the Holy Spirit, who lives and breathes to talk about Jesus and the Father: the revival of the injudicious and incendiary proclamation of the radical gospel of grace, of the infinite love and unfathomable grace of God in Jesus Christ, capturing the hearts and minds of the people of God. That kind of revival—yes!—will have profound political and social consequences, should it come; but it will never be about those consequences, never be for those consequences. It won’t be about America, about restoring our honor or rebuilding our character. It will only ever be about and for glorifying and praising and giving thanks to God the Father for his Son Jesus Christ, who is ours by the work of his Holy Spirit. It will be for God and God alone.

Two years on, the Palin Revolution is gaining steam

Two years ago today, Sen. John McCain threw the political world for a loop by announcing Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin as his running mate. Last August 29, I wrote this, considering the first year’s fruits of that decision:

One year ago today, I was going bonkers, and so was my blog traffic, as the whole political world was going mad at John McCain’s selection of Alaska Governor Sarah Palin as his running mate. After the truly awe-inspiring disinformation campaign Sen. McCain and his staffers ran to keep his pick a secret, and the wondrous overnight thread on Adam Brickley’s site, with Drew (who turned out to be a staffer with the McCain campaign in Dayton) dropping hints that Gov. Palin would be the pick, to have the news come out and be confirmed was the greatest joy I’ve ever had in politics (not that there are many competitors for that particular honor).

One year later, I don’t take any of that back. I’m sorry for the hammering Gov. Palin and her family have taken, much of which has sickened me; I’m sorry for the lies and smears she’s had to deal with, and for what that says about the state of our political culture. But my respect for her, and my sense that she’s the best leader this country has to put forward, haven’t changed, even through a fairly bumpy year.Some might say that’s unreasonable of me; but in proper perspective, I don’t believe it is. That perspective, I think, is supplied by a long article Stephen F. Hayward posted a couple days ago on NRO entitled, “The Reagan Revolution and Its Discontents.” It’s a good and thoughtful piece, and I commend it to your attention for a number of reasons. Hayward wrote it, by his own statement, to clear away some of the fogginess of nostalgia from the conservative memory of President Reagan and his accomplishments, and also to remind us, almost thirty years on, of the political reality the Great Communicator faced in his day; the piece succeeds quite nicely in both aims, in my judgment. I was particularly interested, though, in this section for its application to the current political situation:

Both [Reagan and FDR] had to battle not only with the other party, but also with their own. Both men by degrees successfully transformed their own parties, while at the same time frustrating and deflecting the course of the rival party for a time. This, I suggest, is the heart of the real and enduring Reagan Revolution (or Age of Reagan).

Liberal ideologues who despaired over the limits of the New Deal overlooked that FDR had to carry along a large number of Democrats who opposed the New Deal. Reagan’s experience was similar, as he had to carry along a number of Republicans who were opposed to or lukewarm about his conservative philosophy. This problem would dog Reagan for his entire presidency. Robert Novak observed in late 1987: “True believers in Reagan’s efforts to radically transform how America is governed were outnumbered by orthodox Republicans who would have been more at home serving Jerry Ford.” . . .

Reagan’s dramatic landslide election in 1980 posed two problems: Democrats had to figure out how to oppose Reagan; Republicans, how to contain him. . . .

The lesson of FDR and Reagan is that changing one’s own party can be more difficult than beating the opposition.

As Hayward says, understanding that lesson is critical to a reasonable and meaningful evaluation of President Reagan, or for that matter of Gov. Reagan; and as has been pointed out here before, it’s also critical to a reasonable and meaningful evaluation of Sarah Palin.

This is true in two ways. In the first place, of course, it’s true of her career before last August 29; even more than President Reagan, her political rise was a rise against the establishment of her own party. If you’re not familiar with the story, R. A. Mansour’s post “Who Is Sarah Palin” offers an excellent sketch. Sarah Palin ran for mayor of Wasilla as a political insurgent against a good old boys’ network that was running the town for its own benefit; once in office, she continued to show the guts to buck the town establishment.

Later, having been named as ethics commissioner and chair of the Alaska Oil and Gas Conservation Commission—her big break, and her first big payday—when she discovered that one of her fellow commissioners, Randy Ruedrich (who also happened to be the head of the Alaska Republican Party) was misusing his position, she blew the whistle, even though it meant resigning her job. Then she ran against the Republican governor, Frank Murkowski, who had appointed both her and Ruedrich; in retrospect, we can say “of course she won,” but it was anything but an “of course” at the time.

Like Gov. Reagan, she was not the choice of the party establishment, but was launching a takeover from outside that establishment; as with President Reagan, her dramatic victory posed as big a problem to her own party, who saw her not as their leader but as someone they had to contain, as to the theoretical opposition. President Reagan never told the Congress “All of you here need some adult supervision!” as Gov. Palin did (earning herself the lasting enmity of the Republican president of the Alaska State Senate, Lyda Green), but I’m sure he would have appreciated the line.

This is why she spent the first part of her term in Alaska working as much with the Democrats as with her (supposed) own party: she had to, in order to accomplish things like chopping up the backroom deal Gov. Murkowski had worked out with Big Oil to replace it with a workable new severance-tax law that would be good for Alaska, not just for Big Oil, or to put a bill together that would finally get a process moving to build a natural-gas pipeline from the Northern Slope to the Lower 48.

Now, of course, her opponents like to minimize her accomplishments and carp about this or that, but they’re missing the point: given the fact that she was governing in the teeth of opposition from her own party, working to transform that party as much as to enact policy, it may well be possible to say of her as we can of President Reagan that Gov. Palin did less than she had hoped and less than people wanted—that doesn’t change the fact that, as Gary McDowell said of the Gipper, she did “a **** of a lot more than people thought [she] would.”

This is a point which is especially critical to bear in mind in considering this last calendar year for Gov. Palin. Where before, she was able to work with the Alaska Democrats to get legislation passed—after all, her initiatives were popular, and her war with her own party establishment only helped them in their efforts against Sen. Ted Stevens and Rep. Don Young—her performance in the presidential campaign made her Public Enemy No. 1 for the national Democratic Party, meaning that the Alaska Democrats could no longer afford to do anything that would give her good publicity. (Given the close connections between prominent Democrats in Alaska and the Obama White House, there’s no doubt in my mind that that imperative came all the way from the top.)

This, combined with the time- and energy-wasting barrage of ludicrous, transparently malicious ethics charges, combined to hamstring her administration. The #1 goal of the Left was to keep her from accomplishing anything (yes, I believe that was even ahead of bankrupting her through legal bills, which I figure was #2), so as to be able to portray her in future races as a lightweight who was overmatched by her office. Now, in a rational world, this wouldn’t have worked, because by the numbers, the Republicans had sufficient votes in the legislature to pass her agenda into law; but as already noted, this isn’t a rational world, and a large chunk of the Alaska GOP wasn’t on her side, but rather sided with the Democrats against her. This is the sort of thing that can happen when you’re faced with having to try to transform your own party.

To complicate matters, this struggle in Alaska has been mirrored on a national scale. The GOP is referred to as the party of Reagan, but it isn’t in any meaningful sense; indeed, I think Heyman overstates the degree to which it ever really was. One can point to Newt Gingrich’s Republican Revolution of 1994 and the Contract with America as evidence of a Reaganite legacy, but Rep. Gingrich himself was an insurgent in the party, and the conservative principles of the Contract didn’t really last long; perhaps the most telling thing is that the party didn’t nominate a conservative as its standard-bearer in 1998, but an old warhorse of the pre-Reagan Republican establishment, Bob Dole. Indeed, to this date, for all his success, Ronald Reagan remains sui generis among Republican presidential nominees.

As a result, the national Republican establishment reacted (and keeps reacting) to Gov. Palin in the same way they reacted to Gov. Reagan—belittling her intelligence, mocking her ideas, trying to deny her credit for her accomplishments, and generally trying to tear her down in any way they can, while still trying to make as much use as they can out of her popularity. This, combined with the hostility of the party’s state organization in Alaska, left her with little structural support or cover against the attacks of the Left (an understatement, actually, given that some in the party actually piled on). Collectively, this put her in a very unusual position for an elected official: having her office become a hindrance to her effectiveness and ability to function rather than an advantage.

As such, Gov. Palin’s utterly un-telegraphed resignation is one of those events that was shocking at the time but in retrospect seems almost obvious—we should have seen it coming. We would have, were it not the sort of thing that professional politicians never do. Your typical politician, after all, holds on to power with the awe-inspiring single-mindedness of the clinically obsessed; we knew Gov. Palin to be anything but a typical politician and a woman who could say, “Politically speaking, if I die, I die,” but our expectations are too well shaped by the normal course of events to be truly able to predict that she would defy that norm as she did. Had we been able to join her in thinking outside the box (or perhaps I should say, the straitjacket) of those expectations, though, we would have seen what she saw: that the only way for her to carry on effectively with her mission was to step down from office and go to work as a private citizen.

Which, of course, she has, with verve and gusto and considerable effectiveness. (Google “Facebook ‘Sarah Palin,'” and you’ll get “about 9,520,000” hits.) As Gov. Reagan did, so Gov. Palin has found it necessary to go “into the wilderness”—which is to say, back into the real world outside a government position—in order to carry on with her efforts to shift the institutional GOP back toward its conservative base. The Juneau statehouse was too small, remote and encumbered a platform for her to be able to work effectively; she needed to create a better one for herself. In her use of Facebook, she’s demonstrating her ability to do exactly that—yes, she’ll need to go beyond Facebook as well, but it’s proving a mighty fine place to start—and though she’s dragging much of the GOP elite with her kicking, screaming, and complaining, she is dragging them nevertheless. No matter how much they might protest or wish it were otherwise, she is the one who has set the agenda for the party’s opposition to Obamacare; she is the one who played the biggest part in stopping the administration’s energy-tax agenda cold; and increasingly, she is recognized as the Republican whose leadership matters the most in this country, regardless of official position or lack thereof.

Of course, there are many people in both parties who have a vested interest in changing that reality—Democrats who oppose her, and Republicans who want to contain her—and so the resistance continues. As such, though Gov. Palin’s resignation outflanked them, the efforts to use it against her continue as well. Most of those efforts are pointless and ineffective, since they rest on the assertion that Gov. Palin is finished in politics because she no longer holds office; that doesn’t hold water, both because of their continued attacks and because the American people don’t value being elected to office as highly as politicians do. There is one question, however, that does linger with many people: if she resigned from office once, how can we be sure she wouldn’t do it again if she won the White House?

The answer to that is found in considering both halves of the problem she faced in Alaska. One, the state’s executive-ethics law, does not exist on the national level; were she elected president, she would not be vulnerable to a barrage of bogus charges as she was as governor. The other, the absolute opposition she faced from a majority of her own party in Alaska, is as I said part and parcel of the work of transforming the GOP, and would be a problem for President Palin to some degree as it was for President Reagan. However, there are two good reasons to think that it would be a problem which would be far easier for President Palin to overcome than it was for Governor Palin.

One, if she does in fact end up running and winning in 2012 (or at any later date), she will by virtue of that simple fact have a demonstrated national support base of some 60 million voters. As Barack Obama has already shown, being able to remind people that you won gives you considerable political leverage. That’s leverage far beyond what she had simply by virtue of winning a single gubernatorial election in a low-population state, because that’s a vastly greater number of voters. (Had things played out differently in Alaska, had she had a couple of terms, her re-election and her ability to influence the re-election campaigns of other Alaskan politicians would have started to give her that sort of leverage on a state level, but that leverage would always have been affected by events on the national scene.) As such, she would have a lot more political capital to use to deal with recalcitrant members of her own party, as well as with more conservative members of the Democratic caucuses.

And two, Gov. Palin has a tremendous opportunity ahead of her in the 2009-10 elections. By campaigning for Republican candidates around the country, she has the chance to build a constituency for herself in the national party institution, in three ways. The first, most basic, and most important, is by working to get people elected who share her principles, and who thus will tend out of their own political beliefs and instincts to support the same things she supports. By campaigning, especially in House elections, for the election of true conservatives—and I hope she finds good opportunities to do so not just in the general election but in primaries, working to win nominations for conservatives over establishment types (as for example, dare I say, Marco Rubio in Florida?)—she has the chance to shape the congressional Republican caucuses into bodies which will be more likely to follow her lead, should she run and win in 2012.

The second way is dicier, but still essential: by campaigning for other Republican candidates and helping them win elections, she’ll earn good will and put them in her debt. As the recent behavior of Saxby Chambliss shows, this isn’t as reliable a way of building support as it should be—you just can’t count on most politicians not to welch on a debt—but it’s necessary all the same. You might not be able to count on them returning the favor if you help them, but you can surely count on them not helping you if you don’t.

The third comes back to that whole question of leverage. As I said, if Gov. Palin becomes President Palin, she will have shown by that fact that she has a strong political base; but that will be much more impressive to folks on the Hill if she’s already shown that her base won’t just help her get elected, but also translates into downballot clout. If she flexes real political muscle during the mid-term elections, if she shows that her support is broad enough and strong enough to influence House, Senate and gubernatorial races across the country—if she makes it clear to everyone that being endorsed by Sarah Palin is a good thing for Republican politicians—then the GOP will get the idea that opposing her is not likely to be a good thing for Republican politicians. That will make the congressional GOP and the rest of the party establishment much more likely to follow her lead.

All of which is to say, the next key stage of the Palin Revolution, if it is to come fully to fruition, is the next election cycle; that will be the point at which her leadership will, I believe, really begin to take hold in the party in an institutional way, and the necessary groundwork for the future Palin administration for which we hope. It’s been a hard year for Gov. Palin, but it’s been a year which has produced many good things, too; and as startling and controversial as her resignation was, she has proven that it was not the beginning of the end of her political career, but rather the end of the beginning. The best, I believe, is yet to be; and for that, I am thankful.

So, another year on, how’s that going? Well, from where I sit, I’d have to say it’s going pretty well—but don’t ask me, ask Joe Miller, who came from a long way back to an apparent close primary victory over incumbent senator Lisa Murkowski (RINO-AK). Ask Nikki Haley, who charged up from the field to win South Carolina’s GOP gubernatorial primary—despite the best efforts of the state’s GOP establishment to smear her; one of Haley’s defeated rivals for the nomination said Gov. Palin’s endorsement was “like a political earthquake.” Ask Susana Martinez, who pulled an upset to win the Republican nomination for governor in New Mexico. Or ask Carly Fiorina, whom Gov. Palin’s endorsement helped emerge from a three-way primary to win the GOP nod for Senate in California, or Tom Emmer, the GOP candidate to succeed Tim Pawlenty as governor of Minnesota, or . . . well, it’s a long list. She hasn’t hit on every endorsement, but she’s hit on enough to lead LA talk radio host John Phillips to conclude, “I think it’s now obvious: @SarahPalinUSA has the best political instincts in the country.”

Or if you don’t trust the politicians, listen to the Daily Beast‘s Tunku Varadarajan, not exactly a slobbering Palinite:

These have been the Palin Primaries, a fact rammed home deliciously by Alaska’s Republican voters in their “refudiation,” as of this writing, of Lisa Murkowski. What a potent, irrepressible woman Palin is: Only two years ago, she was plucked from obscurity to run alongside the ambling, aimless John McCain. She lit up the party briefly, infusing it with an improbable oomph for a few weeks, before McCain’s handlers, spooked by her inexpert handling of a disdainful media, put her emphatically in purdah. She was a woman scorned, and what we see now is her fury playing out as a form of high-octane political energy, wreaking a form of ideological creative-destruction in places like Florida, Utah, Kentucky, Nevada, and South Carolina (to name but a few of the states where Republican politics-as-usual has come to an abrupt end).

The question facing the Republicans is how best to deploy Palin’s energy for November—in effect, how best to channel the vim of the Tea Party. Midterm elections, as a rule, are base-versus-base battles: Both parties will spare no quarter or trick to get their faithful to turn out. For this task, Palin is as close to an indispensable figure as the Republicans have. . . .

She is no one’s puppet; and she is, also, no one’s fool. . . .

“Of the remaining 52 percent [of independents],” Zogby continued, “two in three describe themselves as politically ‘conservative’ but weary of Republicans on issues like spending, civil liberties, and the war in Iraq during the Bush and Republican congressional years. So a conservative message can win their support except they don’t trust the Republicans.”

That would, of course, be the Republican Establishment; and here, precisely, is where Palin can make a difference.

Or consider Anna Holmes and Rebecca Traister, who acknowledged in the New York Times that

Ms. Palin has spent much of 2010 burnishing her political bona fides and extending her influence by way of the Mama Grizzlies, a gang of Sarah- approved, maverick-y female politicians looking to “take back” America with “common-sense” solutions,

and warned their fellow liberals that

If Sarah Palin and her acolytes successfully redefine what it means to be a groundbreaking political woman, it will be because progressives let it happen—and in doing so, ensured that when it comes to making history, there will be no one but Mama Grizzlies to do the job.

Jennifer Rubin took note of their piece, commenting,

It’s really worse than the New York Times worriers admit. Palin not only trumped the left on style but she also managed to connect on nearly every issue—ObamaCare, bailouts, Israel, taxes, American exceptionalism, and the stimulus plan—in a way the president and his liberal supporters could not. For all of her supposed lack of “policy muscle,” it was she who defined the debate on ObamaCare and she who synced up with the Tea Party’s small-government, personal-responsibility, anti-tax-hike message. Who’s short on policy muscle—the White House or Palin? Does “engagement” of despots, Israel-bashing, and capitulation to Russia make for a meaty foreign-policy agenda? Go read a Palin foreign-policy address or two. Plenty of meat and common sense there.

But I give the Times gals credit—they know they are losing the battle to discredit Palin. Now they need to figure out what to do about it. They might start with examining whether their agenda has as much sell as hers.

So, yeah, it’s not just me; what Gov. Palin needed to do and set out to do, she’s doing, and she’s doing it with style.

It Is Finished

(Exodus 24:3-8, Hebrews 9:15-28)

Sacrifice is a powerful thing, and its power is bone-deep, soul-deep—it’s something we know at our core, at the level of ourselves that shapes and drives our instincts, whether we know or acknowledge it at the rational level or not. I said last week that sacrifice is central to worship, and that wasn’t just an Old Testament insight; paganism in all its many forms has always understood the same thing. Whatever god you worship, you must go with your sacrifice, with the blood you are willing to shed to appease and satisfy the god; then once you’ve done that, you can ask the god for what you want and expect to receive it.

Our modern forms of paganism, our various cultural idolatries, are less obvious about this, but they have the same understanding—you can see it in phrases like “you have to pay your dues”; those who worship the god Success, for instance, are expected to lay offerings of time and commitment on his altar, often accompanied by offerings of their marriage and children and other relationships. As I told our older kids last week in Sunday school, the old form of our English word “worship” was “worthship”—it meant to acknowledge someone or something as being of great worth; and the way you do that is by laying before the one you worship things which are also of great worth, to show that you value your god even more. You offer sacrifices.

But some might wonder if that’s still true in Christianity—we certainly don’t kill animals to keep God from striking us down; and haven’t we said over and over that we don’t need to earn our way into the presence of God? And yet, if we just remove sacrifice from the picture altogether, we get a bloodless faith and cheap grace. The Roman church long ago developed the understanding that the center of Christian worship is the re-enactment of the sacrifice of Christ in which they vicariously participate, but we don’t believe that—and in fact, this passage really rules that out—so what do we do with this?

The answer to this is really twofold. One we’ll come back to later, as Hebrews 13 tells us to “continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God,” and calls good works and generous giving sacrifices which are pleasing to him. We no longer need to offer sacrifices in order to earn God’s love and approval, and we can no longer see them as levers by which we may compel him to do what we want him to do, but we do still need to offer them for our own sake. Part of the function of sacrifice in worship has always been, as I said a moment ago, to declare to those around us—and to our resistant selves—that God is this good, that he’s worth this much to us. If your praise to God is grudging or merely habitual, if your financial giving isn’t enough to keep you from spending everything you’d like to spend—if what you give to God of your money and your time and your energy isn’t a sacrifice and doesn’t really cost you anything—then that’s an indication that God isn’t your first priority, that there’s another god or gods in your life whom you worship more, because that’s where your sacrifices are going. As such, while we no longer sacrifice by commandment under the law, our willingness to sacrifice freely in gratitude for grace is still a meaningful thing.

At the same time, though, we must always remember that the old reason for sacrifice no longer applies. We should no longer be driven to sacrifice by fear, for God’s perfect love has cast out all fear. We should no longer be driven to sacrifice by the need to be worthy, to be good enough, for that was impossible for us, but it is possible with Christ, and he has done it. We should no longer be driven to sacrifice by pride, by the desire to show ourselves holier than those around us, for the work of Christ has shown us that we have nothing to justify such pride. And we should no longer be driven to sacrifice by the desire to earn our salvation, for our salvation has already been earned for us and given to us as a free gift; as we read last week as well, when Christ died on the cross, out of his never-stopping never-giving-up love, his will went into effect, and he passed on the greatest thing he had to give—his never-ending undying life—to us as our inheritance.

This is actually an interesting play on words in Hebrews, because in the Greek, “will” and “covenant” are the same word, diathēkē. A will is, you might say, a kind of covenant which only takes effect at the death of the one who made it, because only death makes the benefits of the covenant possible. Christ could not give us his life without giving it up himself; and so he did. And then, because he could not be the executor of that will and the one who put that covenant into effect while remaining dead, he rose again so that he could be both sacrifice and priest on our behalf.

In so doing, Jesus made us more than merely passive recipients or observers; in giving us his life, he united us with himself and made us his body and his temple. Hebrews doesn’t explicitly say this here, this truth comes mostly from the letters of Paul, but the author of Hebrews is clearly a disciple of Paul and is assuming Paul’s argument in making his own. That’s why we have this rather strange statement in verse 23 that “it was necessary . . . for the copies of the heavenly things to be purified with these sacrifices, but the heavenly things themselves with better sacrifices than these.” Is Hebrews saying that the heavenly throne room of God was polluted and needed to be purified? No, the “heavenly things” in view here are the members of the new spiritual temple of God—us, our souls, our consciences. This is hooking back to his point that the sacrifices of animals were not enough to cleanse the conscience—there had to be a greater sacrifice that could wash us clean from the inside out. Only the death and resurrection of Christ could unite us with him so that he could bring us with him into the presence of God as his people; only his sacrifice could wash away the stains and pollution in our consciences so that we could be united with him, and so that we could stand in his presence.

And he has done it, and he has done it once and for all; this is why he declared on the cross, “It is finished,” because there was nothing more that needed to be done and nothing more that needed to be added to it. We noted this last week, that Jesus didn’t have to enter God’s presence and then leave, and then do it all over again the next year and the next and the next, the way the old high priests did; but here the author expands on that, showing how ridiculous the idea would be. If Jesus’ sacrifice were not once and for all, if it were only good for a while, then he would have to keep dying and rising again and again—and that’s not how it works. With rare and temporary exceptions, people die once and that’s it, and so it must be for our Redeemer. We die once, by divine appointment, and then comes the final judgment; Jesus died once, by divine appointment, and then comes salvation for all his people. His sacrifice is eternal in its effects, reaching backward and forward in time and across all creation, but it is once for all in time; we do not re-enact it in worship because he doesn’t need to repeat it. We merely need to remember that it is by and through his sacrifice that we come to God, and to give thanks.

And because of this truth, we have a hope that will never fail us. Our politicians may promise us hope, but they can’t deliver; our self-help gurus and self-appointed experts may offer us hope, but their methods fall short. We may put our hope in our own efforts, but given enough time the market will crash, people will die, others will let us down, and we will fail. “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul,” the world tells us, but eventually it will fly away again, and we can’t fly after it. We need more; we need Jesus.

And so we have this last line in verse 28, which I love; it’s easy for us to miss, but this connects right in to what Hebrews has been saying about Christ as our great high priest. On the Day of Atonement, when the high priest entered the sanctuary, all those gathered in the temple watched anxiously for him to come out, as the sign that God had accepted the sacrifice. When he did, they rejoiced. The apocryphal book Ecclesiasticus offers this description of one such day: “How glorious he was when the people gathered round him as he came out of the inner sanctuary! Like the morning star among the clouds, like the moon when it is full; like the sun shining upon the temple of the Most High, and like the rainbow gleaming in glorious clouds”—and in fact, it goes on for a while after that. This is the shadow of the glorious appearing of Christ; and one day, our great high priest will come out of the heavenly sanctuary and appear among us once again, just like this, to complete our salvation. This is our hope; this is the end toward which we worship; and our hope is sure because this is for us, because Jesus has done it, once and for all.

A thought on keeping faith and politics straight

Musing on some of the posts I’ve read from Glenn Beck’s big D.C. rally today, I came back to an observation that occurred to me while I was writing last Sunday’s sermon. I have many times heard people give thanks that we live in a nation where we are allowed to worship God without having to worry about dying for it, and that is indeed reason to be grateful; but how often do we stop to give thanks to Jesus that we can worship God without dying for it? The fundamental freedom to worship God in spirit and in truth doesn’t come from our Constitution, it comes from Christ. Worthy is the Lamb who was slaughtered, because it’s only through his blood, it’s only because he allowed himself to be butchered, that we can enter the presence of God. We need to remember which is the greater gift.

Unfortunately, I think sometimes we lose sight of that, and it shifts our focus. We Americans should be proud of and grateful for our country, yes, because it’s the one God has given us, and because we’re fortunate to live here; but we should never, under any circumstances, for any reason, seek to use our faith for political purposes. We should never do anything that makes our allegiance to Christ secondary to our allegiance to any earthly flag. To do so is idolatry, and a betrayal of the one we claim to worship.

 

Photo © 2005 Kaihsu Tai.  License:  Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported.

An Observation on the Importance of Humility in Planning: With Special Direction to the Inadvisability of Premature Declarations of Victory

Yeah, the title’s very 17th-century, but I’m in a weird mood.

Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”—yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.” As it is, you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil. So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.

—James 4:13-17 (ESV)

Oh, well . . . I’m starting to feel better, and I think I’m actually rolling on writing again, so . . . praise God.

A call to arms: against the political machine

If you follow national politics, you probably know that Sen. Lisa Murkowski (RINO-AK) has narrowly lost a primary challenge to an Alaskan attorney, a friend and ally of Gov. Sarah Palin, named Joe Miller. You’ve probably also seen the news that the GOP establishment (specifically, the Alaska Republican Party and the National Republican Senatorial Committee) has been actively working for Sen. Murkowski against Miller—urging her to attack him, running a phone bank for her out of Alaska Republican Party headquarters on election day, and now sending the NRSC’s general counsel to Alaska to give her “guidance”; as well, Thomas Van Flein has filed a protest with Alaska’s Division of Elections against Bonnie Jack, an observer with the Murkowski campaign, who “used confidential information outside the voter observation confines and called a voter to resurrect a disqualified ballot.” The situation is such that Miller is now having to fight back against his own ostensible party. (Remember, the chair of the Alaska GOP is the guy who had to pay the biggest ethics fine in Alaskan history after Sarah Palin blew the whistle on him, and is also a personal enemy of Miller’s, for reasons that will be referenced below.)

Riehl has some choice things to say about the whole situation:

It isn’t as if Cornyn’s NRSC wants another independent-minded conservative like Jim DeMint to join the club on the Hill. And when one thinks of how influential any one senator can actually be, especially within party ranks, there is far more at stake here than what some pundits seem to believe.

There are additional reasons why we may soon see what amounts to a civil war within the GOP in Alaska, one that could easily spill over nationally, infuriating the Republican base if the establishment attempts to steal this election for Murkowski. . . .

A bigger problem may be Alaskan Republican Party (ARP) Chair, Randy Ruedrich. That would be the guy who most likely ordered the phone banking for Murkowski out of the ARP HQ. He’s a political enemy of both Joe Miller and Sarah Palin. That started when he resigned and later was hit with the biggest ethics fine in Alaskan history for his role on the state gas and oil commission. . . .

Ruedrich threw in with the anti-Palin old guard and the ARP became no friend to Sarah Palin—Governor, or not. And it was Joe Miller who then tried to unseat him as state party chair. See what I’m getting at here? Intra-state, intra-party civil war, with the potential to spill over into the national scene, in part, thanks to any possible NRSC meddling. . . .

The battle for the GOP may not wait until after November. There’s a real possibility we start having that fight right here and right now. You can help support Joe Miller here. If the establishment is lined up against him as much as it appears, he’s going to need all the help he can get.

I only disagree with Riehl on one thing: there is no “may not wait,” and no “may soon see”; the battle has been joined, and in this current political climate, that means it’s already national. The only thing that could have prevented this battle breaking out would have been for Sen. Murkowski to graciously concede, or at least commit herself not to seek a recount or a third-party run if Miller’s lead holds—and like any party hack who’s all about the position and the power, she refused to do so. Instead, she’s called the war elephants in on her side, and we now have a fight on our hands. It’s elephants vs. grizzly bears, and the only question is whether we’re willing to recognize the fact and dig in.

This is no small matter. At this point, it seems reasonable to expect that Sen. Murkowski and her RNC/NRSC/ARP allies are going to follow the Franken/Gregoire playbook and do whatever they have to do in order to produce a final official vote count that favors her—she because she wants the seat at whatever cost, they partly because she’s one of them and partly because they’re afraid she’ll pull a Charlie Crist and hurt their chances of getting their majority perks back in the Senate. The only question for those who support the GOP’s principles rather than its perks is this: are we going to let them stay under the radar and fight in the shadows, as the Democrats did for Al Franken in Minnesota and Christine Gregoire in Washington state, or are we going to call them out and man the barricades against them?

If it’s the former, Joe Miller will lose, which means we all lose (and not just conservatives, either); there’s just no way the honest brokers in Alaska will be able to stand up to the combined state and national political machine. If we wait for the battle to come out in the open, we’ll lose it before we ever see it start. The only way to win is to bring it out in the open ourselves: to expose the machinations of the party establishment, openly declare our opposition and our refusal to accept GOP politics as usual, and rally as big and as passionate a national response as we can possibly manage. Absent significant national exposure and pressure, the political establishment will find some way to defeat Miller; absent significant pressure and/or incentive, the Murkowskis will do whatever they can to keep from losing that seat. Only the establishment can convince the Murkowskis to back down, and that will only happen if they can be convinced that they have to back Miller 100%; and that will only happen if the GOP base across the country rises up to demand it.

Which means, we need to get people moving, and we need to do it now. Any conservative who cares at all about fair process—to say nothing about electing conservatives—needs to stand up and do everything possible to publicize this, to shine the light of day on it, and to mobilize the GOP base to tell the party machinery to take their thumb off the scales and support their own voters. Or else.

In truth, this is part of a bigger story; it’s not just conservatives but liberals who should be doing everything possible to support Joe Miller against the political elites. I’ve been meaning to write on that anyway, but in the interests of speed and length, I’m going to save that for a follow-on post. For now, we need to recognize the key development: the Tea Party has just met its Shot Heard ‘Round the World; if I may mangle the historical metaphor (and why not, since I’ve just conflated 1776 with 1848 anyway), it now falls to us to play Paul Revere and rouse the countryside before it’s too late. The battle has been joined in earnest in Alaska—the voters of the party versus the establishment that wrecked it.

Gov. Palin hit the highest note of her political career, in my opinion, when she declared in her resignation speech, “Politically speaking, if I die, I die”; she stands in stark opposition to a political class for whom political survival is their highest (and in some cases only) creed. The only thing necessary for the triumph of oligarchy is for good voters to do nothing. Let’s stand together and fight—and let’s be sure to fight together, for as Ben Franklin said, “We must all hang together, or most assuredly, we shall all hang separately.” There are no other options.

Ordinary barbarians of the world, unite!

(Adapted from a post on Conservatives4Palin)