It has sometimes been remarked that feminist theology and exegesis has had a more lasting and widespread impact upon the Western Church and Christian Academy than other expressions of liberation theology. For example, most theological journals now require that submissions consistently employ gender-inclusive language, and professors generally make a point of requiring the same in the writing of their students.
This, then, leads me to this question: why has feminism had a more widespread and lasting impact than the other forms of liberation theology? To (almost comically) pick up on our prior example, I know of no major theological journals that list “solidarity with the poor” as a requirement, and I know of few professors who require this of their students (although, to be fair, I have encountered a few profs who have strongly encouraged [to put it mildly] their students to live in that way). Why is it that the more economic elements of liberation never achieved any major influence over the Christian Academy? Why does Latin American liberation theology feel so passe?
Surely it is not because the quality of scholarship is any different. Far from it. The writings of Gutierrez, Sobrino, Arias and the Boff brothers is just as rigourous (and sometimes significantly more so), than the writings of Ruether, Schussler-Fiorenza, Daly, and Trible.
Perhaps an argument could be made that the difference is that other streams of liberation theology are just too contextual. Thus, this argument would suggest, feminist theology achieves a broader influence because women are everywhere, whereas Dalit Theology has trouble spreading beyond India because the caste system doesn’t exist in America, and Latin American liberation theology has trouble spreading north because we live in a very different world. However, I think that this argument must also be rejected. Why? Because the essential elements of liberation theology — solidarity with the poor, God’s preferential option, etc. — easily apply in any cultural situation. Gregory Baum has done a fine job of applying those principles in Canada, Jim Wallis used to do a fine job of applying those principles in the United States, and Jurgen Moltmann has done a fine job of applying those principles in Europe.
So why feminism and not these other expressions? Well, there are two major reasons why I believe feminism achieved a wider influence upon the Christian Academy.
The first is that feminism was already achieving success as a broader cultural movement within the West. In this regard, the Church and the Christian Academy, simply did what they have done so many times before — followed on the coat-tails of cultural change. A book recently published by one of my professor’s is a fine example of this. It is entitled Finally Feminist and it argues that, although God does not desire feminism at all times and in all places, God now desires feminism within the cultural milieu of the West (now I find this approach to feminism to be hugely problematical… but I am torn. Given the influence that this prof has upon Canadian Evangelicals, I’d rather see him “finally feminist” than not feminist at all). Although the Church’s tendency to follow the trends of whatever culture is dominant has generally had an, IMHO, negative impact upon the Church, this could be viewed as one of those times when the Spirit moved within the culture in order to speak prophetically to the Church (and the Christian Academy).
However, the second reason why I believe that other elements of liberation theology have not had as significant an impact as feminism is because, quite simply, they seem to require a more costly transformation in the way in which we live. To write with gender-inclusive language doesn’t cost me anything. To be taught by a female prof doesn’t cost me any more than being taught by a male prof. Heck, even if women get paid the same amount as I do, I’m still making the same amount of money that I made before. The average Christian in the Academy can, by and large, embrace feminism through a shift in rhetoric — and not a very large shift in the way in which he or she lives.
To embrace other forms of liberation theology would be far more costly. If I take liberation theology seriously I may have to move out of my comfortable home and into a far less comfortable neighbourhood. To embrace liberation theology means that I may have to study, teach, and write, with the objectives of reconciliation and shalom in mind — and those lie outside of the realm of my “expertise.” And it may force me to enter into relationships with people who don’t even speak the same language as the Academy, and people who don’t give a rip about defining an “inaugurated eschatology,” or an “Ausgustinian ecclesiology.” These people might not even care that I have a PhD in Theology, and they might even jeopardize the safety of my person and my family. No, no. Gender-inclusive language, well, I can handle that. Solidarity with those on the margins? No way, man, that’s not my calling or my gifting.
However, the surprising lack of impact that liberation theology, in general, has made upon the Western Church and the Christian Academy, should also cause us to reconsider the so-called advances of feminism. You see, my suspicion is that, just as with the rest of Western society, most people have adopted the rhetoric of feminism, without adopting the praxis thereof. This then leads to a situation where it is that much more difficult to attain to the feminist goals, because everybody thinks we’re already there!
However, at least on a cultural level, the stats suggest otherwise. Look up the stats re: violence against women in the home, the sexual trafficking and enslavement of women, and the sexual assault of women. Furthermore, look at the ways in which the police, the courts, and even the hospitals treat women. These things come together to paint a very bleak picture indeed. Most of the stats have gone up, not down (note: some have suggested that this is so because women now feel more empowered to report offences; however, although I don’t really want to get into a technical discussion here, I find that argument quite unconvincing).
Within Christian circles the same tends to hold true. Granted, my school affirms the equality of men and women — but women are a striking minority in the teaching and leadership positions. Further, to simply adopt the rhetoric of feminism, without also moving in the role of advocacy, seems especially hollow. While the Christian Academy has done a good job of changing its language, it has, generally, done hardly anything in terms of advocacy. Likewise, on another level, it seems that the most significant thing that has changed in the area of Evangelical Christianity is that the language of “complementarianism” has replaced that of patriarchy — and the end result is the same in both cases.
Thus, by beginning by asking why elements of liberation theology apart from feminism have not had a significant impact upon the Western Church and the Christian Academy, I have ended up with the conclusion that even feminism has not had much of an impact. This is so, I suspect, because we in the West do a fine job of developing theologies that serve our own ends. Christ tells us to love our neighbours as ourselves, but we have ended up thinking that we are loving our neighbours by loving ourselves.
What sort of neighbour am I?
About two weeks ago I was walking to work in the rain and I passed by a homeless man. He was an older fellow (probably in his fifties), standing next to a suitcase and a rolled up sleeping bag. As I went by he asked me for change, but I didn’t have any. I told him so and kept walking. However, he called after me: “Do you have an extra smoke?” I did, so I gave him one. And then he broke down.
He began to cry, and told me about how he had been living in one of the cheap hotels in my neighbourhood, but it was all just too, well, scary. He was heading to the bus station to try and get out of town. But he was so terrified that he didn’t know if he would make it.
It’s hard for me to describe what I saw. Every now and again I have seen, on the faces of people I have encountered, absolute naked despair. I still remember the first time I saw that sort of despair (on the face of a fellow who had just relapsed — again — who came to stay at the shelter I worked at in Toronto). It is a hard thing to behold. It sort of hits you in the chest. Furthermore, I don’t think this man knew the first thing about street life, I think he was just one of those seniors who doesn’t have anybody and ends up falling through the gaps in society (it’s amazing how easily that happens).
Anyway, this grandfather looked at me, his voice cracking, and pleaded: “I’m going to make it right? Right? I can make it?” And so I put my hand on his shoulder, I looked him in the eye, and I told him, “Yes. Yes, you’re gonna make it. The station is just up the straight. You can do this.” And he was so grateful, we seemed to connect, and he seemed to gain some hope from my words. “Okay,” he said with relief. “Okay, I’m gonna make it.”
So then I walked away. I needed to get to work on time and I was feeling pretty good about myself. It was all so… sentimental. But then, later that night, I got to thinking, and I remembered the story Jesus told about the good Samaritan. And I remembered how the religious leaders walked by the dying man because they had places to go, people to see, and deadlines to meet. And I remembered that the one who truly loved his neighbour was the man who stopped and tended to the dying man and took him to a place where he would be safe. And I thought about how I had acted. And I realized that I was not a very good lover of my neighbour. I realized that I pride myself on journeying alongside of those in exile and yet, in this situation, I had completely failed to love my neighbour.
You see, I should have walked with that grandfather to the bus station. I should have bought him a ticket and put him on a bus and called to say I was going to be a few minutes late for work. No ifs, ands, or buts. Of course, by saying this, I don’t mean to suggest that there is no power in speaking affectionate timely words, but Christian love never stops with words alone. Those words must be embodied in actions — and sometimes giving out free cigarettes isn’t nearly action enough.
Since moving into the downtown eastside, I can remember at least two other situations where I realized, after the fact, how I had completely dropped the ball (oddly enough, both of those other situations also occurred when I was walking to work). I have realized that I still have much to learn about what it means to journey alongside of those who are in exile, and much to learn about what it means to love my neighbour in both mundane and unexpected situations.
This is a part of the reason why it’s so important that the Church be rooted on the margins of society. It is our day-to-day involvement in such places that reveals our blind-spots to us. We need to have these encounters in the midst of our mundane routines so that we can learn, more and more, how to move into ever deeper intimacy with God and with his beloved (yet broken) creation. And we need to learn this as a community. Because I can be a slow learner at times, and others will have learned something before me. When we go it alone then who knows how many people will suffer because we are slow to learn what love means in this or that situation. Because I don’t know if that grandfather made it to the bus station or not.
Holy Spirit, teach me to love. Teach your Church to love. And, even though it seems like you often do not, please care for those we fail to love. Amen.
Blog of the Month
Well, apparently my blog has been nominated as the December “blog of the month” over at Theology Blogs (cf. http://theologyblogs.blogspot.com/). I am, of course, delighted (and a wee bit surprised) to find myself in such good company, and I now expect all of my readers to accept everything that I say as gospel truth.
Found
All who have been praying, and all who have emailed me to inquire about the status of Jane Doe (cf. my last post), will be delighted to know that I found her down at her regular spot yesterday. She is healthy and well and will be coming to dinner this week.
Thanks be to God.
A Prayer for the Lost Sheep and a Plea for Help
Since we moved into the downtown eastside at the end of August, my housemates and I have been hosting an “open meal” every Friday. Basically, we invite pretty much anybody and everybody — be they people from school, from church, or from the street corner — over for a big meal and we count on the holy Spirit to show up and bond us together in love, just as we count on Jesus to show up and host the meal (in this way we hope to — at least a little bit — recover something of the sacramental nature of the meals Jesus shared during his ministry, and we also hope, in these meals, to embody the proclamation of the forgiveness of sins and the reconciliation of people with God and with one another). Over this time we have always had one woman (let’s call her Jane Doe) come every week. Time after time, Jane was sure to be there. It became, she told us, the highlight of her week. Over the last few months we fell in love with Jane and, marvelously, she also fell in love with us — no small feat for a woman who has been continually rejected and wounded by Christians because she is a prostitute who happens to be gay and who also happens to be Wiccan.
Jane’s life has not been easy and yet, all things considered, she has accomplished some amazing things. Like working in the sex trade for 25 years (ages 18-43 and counting) and not becoming addicted to any drug whatsoever. Like living past the age of 40 when that is the average age of death for female prostitutes in Vancouver. Like valuing herself enough that she refuses to drop her price — even though the addicts that she has seen overtake the neighbourhood have driven prices down to amounts that cannot sustain a life, amounts that can only sustain a life-destroying addiction. Like maintaining her own place — even if it is a single room in a shitty hotel. Like working for herself and not for a pimp. Like teaching us some of the joys and wonders of opening our home to people that are usually rejected by Christians.
But then, last Friday, Jane never showed up for dinner. And so, over the week, my housemates and I would walk down to the corner she works to look for her, to try and find her and make sure that she was alright — because prostitutes tend to “disappear” all too often and all too easily in this neighbourhood (cf.: http://www.missingpeople.net/vancouver_missing_women.htm. See also this page for what tends to happen to “disappeared” women: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Pickton — is there any way to view these pages without weeping?). We were hoping that maybe she had just forgotten dinner, maybe she had been sick that night, but we never found her. Maybe, we thought, she was staying inside because of the snow and the cold weather. But, once again, last night at dinner, Jane wasn’t there. And all the ways in which we had been reassuring ourselves, ended up sounding pretty hollow.
Jesus tells us to go out and find the lost sheep but sometimes it’s damn hard to find them. I guess this week we’ll be putting up posters, checking the hospitals, and trying to track down her neighbours to see if they’ve seen her. I think we’re all more than a little scared that all these efforts will be futile. Those who get lost here, often stay lost, and those of us who should be out searching, don’t know how to find them.
Lord, have mercy. Teach us, we pray, how to find your lost sheep. We are not very good shepherds and we don’t know how to search out your little ones. Lord, make your Church a true shepherd, a true seeker and finder of lost sheep, because we need all the help we can get out here, and I don’t think our hearts can handle seeing another face added to the “missing women” sheet. Honestly, we don’t know how your heart can handle it. How long will you allow this to continue? This God-damned situation is more than we can bear.
Please, reader, if you pray, take a moment to pray for Jane.
November Books
Well, most of my reading time in November was dedicated to researching a paper that I ended up calling “Christians: neither Pagans, nor Jews. ‘Badges of Membership’ in Paul’s Epistles”. I was considering posting that paper on this blog but I have been encouraged to submit that paper for publication and so I won’t be posting it here (unless it is thoroughly rejected by the journals). So, here are the few books I managed to read this month:
1. The Theology of Paul the Apostle by James D. G. Dunn.
This is an exceptional book, easily the best one I read this month, and quite possibly the best book I have read this year. Using the epistle to the Romans as his outline, Dunn traces the major elements of Paul’s theology. Thus, he moves from exploring God, to humanity (and its indictment), to Jesus, to salvation (both the beginning and the process thereof), to the Church, to ethics. There is so much good material in this book that it is really impossible to do any sort of justice to it in a brief “review” (if you can even call this a “review”). It’s not a book for the faint of heart (weighing in at 700+ pages) but I highly recommend it to any reader interested in NT or Pauline studies. This is the sort of book that is essential to developing a biblical paradigm from within which a person can think and live Christianly.
2. Jesus Before Christianity by Albert Nolan.
I decided to pick this book up because I noticed that Sister Helen Prejean (author of “Dead Man Walking” and, more recently, “The Death of Innocents”) spoke very highly of it on her blog. While Nolan does have some important things to say, and while I appreciated his stress upon the socio-political implications of following Jesus, I can’t say I was altogether that impressed with the book. The problem is that Nolan (like many who were beginning to engage in a a more liberating hermeneutic in the 1970s) tends to minimize the more “religious,” “mystical” or “miraculous” elements of Jesus and his ministry in order to make his point. Exegesis since then (and, to a certain degree, before then) has suggested that there is no need to posit an either-or about these things. Jesus as the religious figure goes hand-in-hand with Jesus as the social radical, and to divide the two (as Nolan and those both before and after him have often done) is not very helpful or very faithful to Jesus and Jesus’ context. Of course, maybe I’ve just been spoiled because I had already read Jimmy Dunn’s Jesus Remembered and Tom Wright’s Jesus and the Victory of God (I still maintain that Wright’s book is the book to read about Jesus).
3. Ludwig Wittgenstein: A Memoir by Norman Malcolm.
Malcolm was a student and lifelong friend of Wittgenstein. This is his reflections upon his time with Wittgenstein, it records some of his personal conversations with Wittgenstein and this edition contains the complete collection of letters that Malcolm received from Wittgenstein (some of which are quite insightful and even humourous). This book is useful for gathering biographical information on Wittgenstein, placing him within his context, and getting a glimpse of his personality.
4. Death in Venice and Seven Other Stories by Thomas Mann.
I really want to like short stories. However, for some reason, I have a heckuva time getting into this genre of literature. It doesn’t matter who I read (for example, I spent some time last year working through Flannery O’Connor’s short stories), I just can’t seem to get all that excited about short stories. Thus, I can’t say I really enjoyed this collection by Thomas Mann. What I need to do is pick up one of his larger works (like Dr. Faustus).
5. My Secret: A Postsecret Book compiled by Frank Warren.
Well, this book isn’t really much of a reading book. It’s more of a picture book — and it’s a great picture book. For those of you who are unfamiliar with postsecret, go here — http://www.postsecret.blogspot.com. I would love to hear your thoughts on what you find there.
Personal Calling and the Calling of the Church
On several occasions I have been challenged by readers of this blog about my assertion that the Church, as a whole, is called to journey alongside of those who are in exile today. More than once, readers have asserted that I am making the mistake of confusing my personal calling with the more variegated universal calling of the Church. As I have turned this thought around in my mind I have come to a few conclusions.
(1) It is true that, in my desire to emphasize that the whole Church is called to journey alongside of those who are poor and oppressed, I have often downplayed, or totally neglected, any suggestion that this could be a part of my personal calling. I have since realized that this is not the case. There are ways in which I have been personally called to this journey (significant in this regard is an especially vivid dream that I had when I was quite young). Furthermore, I recognize that I have been granted certain “chance” life experiences — experiences that others have not had — that have trained me for this particular vocation. Thus, I can only end up affirming those who argue that I am (in some ways) speaking of a personal calling, and a calling that has not been extended to all Christians everywhere.
(2) However, even as I affirm that, I remain adamant that the calling of the entire Church is to journey alongside of those who are in exile, and those who suffer — the Church must be an agent of transformation, healing, reconciliation, and salvation. Therefore, I still maintain that there is a Christian priority: the Church must prioritize those who are especially vulnerable, wounded, and isolated. Furthermore, I continue to maintain that the place of the Church's rootedness must be with those who are on the margins of society. All of this, I think, follows faithfully in the footsteps of Jesus, and faithfully reflects the priorities of God, as they are provided for us in the Scriptures. However, I want to now further fill out this statement by explicitly stating that the Church must also be missionally present in other areas of society as well. There must be those within the Church who are called out to live missionally amongst those who are quite comfortable, and privileged. After all, many of those who are wealthy are also suffering and are only further isolated by their wealth — I think especially of the children of wealthy people. I think of a friend of mine who underwent some life-shattering trauma and never told his/her parents about that event because s/he felt that the parents had done so much to give him/her a “perfect life” that s/he couldn't ever reveal that s/he was “fucked up.” Thus, s/he ended up carrying the wounds of that trauma alone for several years. Having spent some years working with Christian youth at a summer camp, I have learned that there are many, many others in the same situation.
(3) This means that I envision a bit of a reversal in how Christians have traditionally engaged in missions. Traditionally, Christians have been rooted in comfortable neighbours and have extended missional branches into marginal places. Furthermore, it has traditionally been assumed that places of privilege are the default place for Christians to be, and one must receive a special calling to go to the margins. By reversing this I am arguing that the Church should be rooted in the margins, only extend missional branches to more comfortable neighbourhoods. Furthermore, I tend to believe that the default place to be is on the margins, and one must receive a special calling to go to places of comfort (alhtough one should receive a calling for any vocation). Thus, just as with any calling, a great deal of communal discernment must go into determining who is called to live where. Of course, I should be clear that even those who are called to live in more comfortable neighbourhoods are called to live as a subversive presence, embodying an entirely different set of privileges and values. To say that some are called to live among the comfortable, does not mean that we are called to live there comfortably.
(4) In this regard, we must be careful about confusing life experiences with calling. I can imagine those who have always lived in a place of privilege arguing that this has uniquely trained them to minister among the privileged — just as I can imagine those who have always lived on the margins thinking that this has uniquely trained them for ministry on the margins. However, this is not always the case. Let me provide an example of what I mean. I happen to be friends with an older gentleman who spent a good deal of his life in prison, addicted to drugs and active in crime (a notorious bank robber, he was, at one point, Canada's most wanted!). However, this gentleman had his life transformed by Jesus some years ago and, although he continues to work with addicts and street-involved youth, he can never live in a neighbourhood that is riddled with drugs. This is so because he knows that the temptation would be too great and that his addiction would, over time, overpower him once again. Thus, although involved with the margins, he is rooted in a comfortable neighbourhood. I think he is a great example of the sort of person who is called to live amongst those who are more privileged (although he's not living in a mansion in a gated community… and I continue to maintain that no Christian is called to such an ostentatious lifestyle as that; heck, he lives, with his wife, in a townhouse). Similarly, I think that there are other (more socially acceptable) addictions that come from being raised in wealthy environments, so I suspect that such people are more often called out of such neighbourhoods. Remember: it is the rich young ruler that Jesus calls to surrender all and follow him, and it is the demoniac who lived among the tombs that Jesus heals and sends back to the village from whence he came.
When "there, but for the grace of God, go I" is an Inappropriate Response
I think I’ve finally pinned down what has bothered me so much about the “there, but for the grace of God, go I” response to the Ted Haggard scandal.
You see, my time journeying alongside of women, children, and men who have experienced sexual violence, has disciplined me to think about the Christian community from their perspective (as best I can).
What bothers me so much is that the continual reiteration of this phrase by male Christians and male leaders is that such a response makes the Church a very unsafe place for survivors of sexual violence. It transforms Christian men and male leaders into sexually threatening figures. After all, who knows, maybe the miracle of God’s grace will stop working one day and my pastor will assault me. Maybe my pastor already fantasizes about such things, and it is only the grace of God that prevents him from enacting those fantasies — either way, it makes him unsafe.
I mean, have you ever heard pastors saying “there, but for the grace of God, go I” when they hear about priests raping boys, or soldiers torturing civilians, or parents shaking their babies when they cry at night? Of course not. So, why in the world do we think that it is okay to say such things when it comes down to paying people for sex?
As I am learning to journey more and more closely with prostitutes (at work, in my neighbourhood, and in my home), I would love to invite them to participate in Christian community, but I would never invite any of them to a church where the pastor has said, “there, but for the grace of God, go I.” Hell, the constant reiteration of this phrase makes me wonder what church I could bring them to.
However, it gives me hope that I have not heard a single woman respond to Haggard, or other pastoral sex scandals, with this phrase. This, I think, is rather telling, and it shows that women tend to “get” what’s going on here more than men do. I suppose I could see myself inviting my friends to a church with female leadership.
Genuine Healing in the Presence of Fraudulent Healers?
Reflecting on Ted Haggard, coupled with some readings from Albert Nolan's Jesus Before Christianity (in which he emphasises the power of faith), has led me to reflect on another public representative of Christianity: Benny Hinn.
Now let me be clear from the start that I think that Benny Hinn is a predator. I believe that he preys upon the most desperate and vulnerable members of society in order to advance his personal wealth and power. I have serious questions about the faith Hinn professes to have, and I have even more serious questions about the healings he claims to perform. (Hinn refuses to provide any supportive documentation that his healings have been genuine. And when faced with documentation that suggested that a number of people [who claimed to be healed at his rallies] had not actually been healed, Hinn claimed this was so because those people had lost their faith, or fallen into sin, after the rally!)
However, I had a new thought tonight. Given Jesus' emphasis upon the faith of the recipient of healing, I asked myself this: “Is it possible that some healings have occurred at Hinn's rallies because of the faith of those who attend?” Of course, these would be healings that God performed despite of Hinn, and not because of him. Is God so humble, and so gracious, that he would choose to heal the sick, even in the presence of a fraudulent healer? He just might be. After all, God's compassion for the poor and needy seems to regularly overcome his distance from the wealthy and self-satisfied.
I wonder what the implications of this might be for those of us in the Christian community? Perhaps an implication would be that this simply highlights the absence of those within the Christian community who are willing to affirm the faith of others who believe (or long to believe) that God can make lame people walk, blind people see, and sick people healthy. Perhaps it reveals to us that we have lost something of Jesus' emphasis that the Spirit brings liberation from all things.
Of course, by asking this question I am in no way suggesting that the reason why so many Christians are sick is because they lack faith. Far from it. I actually believe that God can heal people based upon the faith of Jesus, not upon the faith (or lack thereof) that is held by the recipient of the healing. This is so for at least two reasons: I think that God often acts in our regard because of the faith and intercession of Jesus — and not because of our faith (or lack thereof); and I think that sharing in the sufferings of the world (include sharing in the illnesses that come from living in a world that is broken) is a fundamental element of the Christian vocation. If it is part of the Christian calling to be broken with the broken, then it is also a part of the Christian calling to be sick with those who are sick.
However, I also think that the near total absence of miraculous healings in the Western Christian community does, at least in some way, suggest an absence of faith in the Western church as a whole (and not in sick individuals specifically).
I long for a Christian presence at the margins of society that truly does offer addicts freedom from the power of drugs, drugs that, in the words of a friend of mine, “enter into your body and alter you at the level of your DNA” (this friend knows this from his firsthand experience with crack). The Spirit should be a presence that restores us, at the very same level.
I long for a Church rooted at the margins of society that offers freedom to people who suffer from mental illnesses, people who hear voices that torment them and tell them to hurt themselves. The Spirit should replace such voices with an inner voice of love.
And when such addictions and illnesses persist, I long for a Church that embraces those things and transforms them into redemptive acts of solidarity with our broken world. The Spirit should be a Spirit that binds us together and makes us one.
The near total absences of such transformations in the Western church, and the far greater presence of such transformations in African, Asian, and Latin American churches, suggests to me that we in the West could learn a thing or two about faith from our sisters and brothers in the two-thirds world.
So, I guess I have drifted away from my original question but I would be very interested in hearing how others might answer that question, and what others have to say about all these things.
Self-Serving Acts of Grace: Evangelical Responses to Ted Haggard
There seems to be an air of self-congratulation running through certain Christian circles these days. I am, of course, talking about the various Christian responses to the Ted Haggard scandal. Time and time again, I read about Christians being “humbled” by Haggard’s scandal and Christians so rapidly offering forgiveness.
“Look,” we all seem to be saying, “see how quickly we forgave Ted? See how humble we have all been? You know, because ‘there but for the grace of God go I’ and all that jazz. Look at the radical welcome and acceptance we have shown to somebody we could have cast out for betraying us and tarnishing our image. Look at how radically we are all committed to following Jesus’ example of compassion!”
To me, it all rings a little false, it’s all just a little too, well, self-serving. Of course, I’m not arguing that grace should not be shown to those who fall within the Christian community (although one might do well to remember Paul’s words in 1 Cor 5), but I am deeply troubled that such acts of grace are rarely (if at all) extended by these same people to those who need it most desperately. When have these oh-so-gracious Evangelicals extended such compassion to other members of the GLBTQ community? When have these oh-so-welcoming Evangelicals extended this welcome to the poor and the sinners, the prostitutes and the meth dealers? When have these oh-so-radical Evangelicals ever extended genuine love to their enemies (whether those “enemies” be militant Muslims or those on the far Left of the American political spectrum)? It seems to me that this is more a case of Evangelicals “looking after their own” and protecting their marketable brand identity than it is about a genuine act of grace and reconciliation. Are these Christians going to go on and embrace other homosexuals? Not likely. Are these Christians going to go on and advocate on behalf of their brothers and sisters in Iraq and elsewhere around the world? Hardly. Are these Christians going to rethink their opinions of drug addicts, homeless people, and other social outcasts? I doubt it.
Therefore, I call bullshit on most of the Evangelical talk of forgiveness that has arisen in response to Haggard.