Nate Knows Nada

This week’s lectionary reading from the Gospel was the famous passage
containing the phrase “born again” and John 3.16 (which is the verse
that guy at sporting events is always holding up a sign for).

The phrase comes, of
course, from a scene in John’s Gospel where Jesus tells a Pharisee named
Nicodemus that he will never see the Kingdom of God unless he is born again. 
Somewhat testily prodded by Nicodemus to make himself clearer, Jesus says, “That
which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is
spirit.”? In other words, spiritual rebirth by the power of the Holy Spirit is
what Jesus is talking about.

He then goes one step
further, playing on the word pneuma, which means both “spirit” and “wind” in Greek.  “The wind blows where it will, and you hear the sound of it, but you
do not know whence it comes or whither it goes; so it is with everyone who is
born of the Spirit,”? he says (John 3:1-8).  The implication seems to be that the
kind of rebirth he has in mind is (a) elusive and mysterious and (b) entirely
God’s doing.  There’s no telling when it will happen or to whom.

Presumably those to whom it does happen feel themselves
filled, as a sheer gift, with that love, joy, peace which Saint Paul singles out
as the principal fruits of the experience.  In some measure, however fleetingly,
it is to be hoped that most Christians have had at least a taste of them.

Some of those who specifically refer to themselves as “Born Again
Christians,”? however, seem to use the term in a different sense. 
You get the feeling that to them it means Super Christians.  They
are apt to have the relentless cheerfulness of car salesmen.  They
tend to be a little too friendly a little too soon and the women to
wear more make-up than they need.  You can’t imagine any of them
ever having had a bad moment or a lascivious thought or used a nasty
word when they bumped their head getting out of the car.  They
speak a great deal about “the Lord”? as if they have him in their hip
pocket and seem to feel that it’s no harder to figure out what he wants
them to do in any given situation than to look up in Fanny Farmer how to make
brownies.  The whole shadow side of human existence– the suffering, the doubt,
the frustration, the ambiguity– appears as absent from their view of things as
litter from the streets of Disneyland.  To hear them speak of God, he seems
about as elusive and mysterious as a Billy Graham rally at Madison Square
Garden, and on their lips the Born Again experience often sounds like something
we can all make happen any time we want to, like fudge, if only we follow their
recipe.

It is not for anybody to judge the authenticity
of the Born Again’s spiritual rebirth or anybody else’s, but my guess is that by
the style and substance of their witnessing to it, the souls they turn on to
Christ are apt to be fewer in number than the ones they turn off.

[This
meditation is taken from Frederick Buechner’s Whistling in the Dark:  A
Doubter’s Dictionary, p. 23-24]

I’m not willing to judge the authenticity of the “born again”
experience–I’d even hesitantly say that I have had this experience
myself–but I think that Buechner may be right, in one sense.  For
too many people, religion is a comfort, a palliative, an “opiate” as
Marx described it.  True religion tries one’s soul, and while it
may offer a bulwark in life, it is probably more unsettling than it is
not.

Buechner’s criticism can apply equally to born-agains, Buddhists, or
liturgical people.  But we probably see it and hear it and have it
offered as justification most often from those who claim to be
“born-again.”  They are, after all, numerous, influential, and “loud” in our society.

Now there’s Raptureletters, a
service to send an e-mail to your friends and family to tell them what
happened when the Rapture occurs and you are caught up in the clouds.

The rapture: When all the believers in Jesus Christ, who have been born again, are
taken up to heaven.

After the rapture, there will be a lot of speculation as to why millions of people have
just disappeared. Unfortunately, after the rapture, only non believers
will be left to come up with answers. You probably have family and
friends that you have witnessed to and they just won’t listen. After
the rapture they probably will, but who will tell them?

We have written a computer program to do just that. It will send an
Electronic Message (e-mail) to whomever you want after the rapture has
taken place, and you and I have been taken to heaven.

We went to see Hotel Rwanda about a week ago when we were in New York.

Watching two hours on the Rwandan genocide requires much of you, as you might expect.

For
many people, Rwanda or the recent tsunamis invokes the theodicy
problem, that is, how can there be a God in a world where there is so
much suffering, so much tragedy, so much senseless violence, made
either by us or by the forces of nature.

Thomas Merton once pointed
out that arguing against the existence of a God by pointing to our pain
and suffering made little sense until you consider the
alternative.  Perhaps, in light of the suffering and cruelness we
create in the world, the proof of God’s existence lies in the
demonstrated love that some extraordinary people show, or even in the
morsels that we all occasionally let glimmer through.

As we left the
theater, a young woman, perhaps about 25 or 30, was doubled over in her
seat, weeping, even several minutes after the credits closed.

Voltaire grappled with the problem, in the aftermath of the 1755 earthquake and tsunami that devastated Lisbon, Portugal, wrote a poem that raged against the inexplicability of the tragedy:

But how conceive a God supremely good,
Who heaps his favours on the sons he loves,
Yet scatters evil with as large a hand?
What eye can pierce the depth of his designs?
From that all-perfect Being came not ill:
And came it from no other, for he ’s lord:
Yet it exists. O stern and numbing truth!
O wondrous mingling of diversities!

A recent column in the Boston Globe
considered the issue.  The cloumn itself isn’t so interesting,
original, or eloquent, as it only seems to say that if we don’t
consider God responsible anymore for tragedies like this, our
conspicuous refusal to blame God for not forestalling the tragedy
provides the only prop for our belief.

BF found this line of reasoning faulty:

Scot Lehigh’s column “Faith meets science” (op ed, Jan. 5) raises the
theological question of human suffering that the earthquakes in Lisbon,
the recent tsunamis, and countless large and small tragedies in between
prompt: when disasters happen, where is God?

The Salvodoran theologian
Jon Sobrino, writing in response to the 2001 earthquakes in El Salvador
(quickly forgotten outside of El Salvador), maintains the depth of that
question but adds a second: where are we? This is not just a question
about our relief efforts now, but about our inattention before the
tsunamis. Why, in a world of such resources, were so many malnourished
children unable to escape the waves? Why did so many buildings collapse
in a world where our sturdy structures protect our books, our stereos,
our entertainment centers? How do the structures of international aid
and debt which support our lifestyles contribute to the vulnerability
of our world’s poor?

At its best, the Christianity which I profess
teaches the real presence of God with us in our suffering without
denying or dismissing how brutally mysterious such suffering can be.

But before we dismiss disasters only as “acts of God” beyond all
reasoning, we must ask ourselves the second question: how are these
disasters also acts of humanity, acts of ours, what we have done or
failed to do?

Brian F.

And in Rwanda.  Do you
want to see what supports and challenges my own theism?  Men and
women like Paul Rusesabagina, who have no grand designs or deliberate
moral codes, simply acting to save.  In Hotel Rwanda, Paul
offers that he places his priority of energy on his family, and that he
can’t be bothered to help others.  And yet, when asked to help
others, when it truly does matter, he does. Risking his life and
the lives of his family, he helps others.

A friend and I were
discussing this movie the other day, and we had both seen the Charlie
Rose interview on 26 November 2004, featuring the makers of the film,
Don Cheadle (who plays Rusesabagina), and Rusesabagina himself.
 Rusesabagina remains a functional and articulate man, but there
is something off in him that you can but just notice, what I can only
ascribe to a fundamental and profound weariness of incomprehension.

See
this movie when it comes to your neighborhood.  You saw
Schindler’s List, and this is more affecting, more real, and more
shaking.

I have more power than you can imagine.  I create tsunamis….

Apparently, I have more power than you can imagine.  I create tsunamis….

Since I have become a liturgical Christian, I’ve really come to value
the role that Mary, the Theotokos (God-bearer), plays in the devotion
of many Anglicans, Roman Catholics, and Eastern Orthodox
Christians.  It’s stirring and encouraging to ponder the
incredible idea that this young woman, although confused at the message
of the Angel Gabriel, had enough of whatever to respond, “I am God’s
servant.  My life lies in God’s hands.”  That takes a lot
when you get what is, by all reasonableness, a fairly ridiculous
message about having a child inviolate.

As Br. Curtis said in a sermon about a year ago, “Lastly, you may find in Mary an intercessor. If the God whom Jesus called
Father is too hidden from you just now, too ferocious, too exacting, too awesome,
too silent, you might find some comfort in access to Mary, who seems to have
God’s ear: Mary, as someone to whom you can safely whisper your desires or
despairs… trusting that that message, through her, will get to where it belongs.”

I like that.

And I like Mary’s calm confidence in this text that John Tavener set to
music for Christmastide.  I know this is a bit early, but I won’t
be here in the blogosphere on Christmas.
 

Today the Virgin

Today the Virgin comes to the cave 
To give birth to the Word eternal: 

Rejoice, O World 
With the Angels and the Shepherds 
Give glory to the Child! 
Alleluia! 

Mary my wife, O Mary my wife! 
What do I see? 
I took you blameless before the Lord 
From the priests of the Temple 
What do I see? 

Refrain

Joseph the Bridegroom, O Joseph the Bridegroom! 
Do not fear. 
God in his mercy has come down to earth. 
He takes flesh in my womb 
For all the world to see. 

Refrain

Mary, my Bride, O Mary my Bride, 
What do I see? 
You, a virgin giving birth. 
Strange mystery! 

Refrain

Joseph the Bridegroom. O Joseph the Bridegroom! 
Do not fear. 
God in his mercy has come down to earth. 
He takes flesh in my womb 
For all the world to see. 

Refrain

Warned by the Angel we believe 
That Mary gives birth inexplicable 
To the infant, Christ, our God. 

Words: Mother Thekla

Ignoring the AIDS crisis worldwide.  This isn’t a problem just
among evangelicals, but Christians in general.  But perhaps
evangelicals are supposed to get it more?  That’s what the columnist seems to be saying. 
I can’t agree; it’s not just to hold evangelicals to a different
standard than other Christians.  Regardless, there’s plenty of
shame here for evangelical Christians to think about.

The survey, conducted by the Barna Research Group for World
Vision, a nondenominational Christian relief organization that does
heroic work in Africa and elsewhere in the developing world, revealed
that since November 2002, the percentage of American evangelicals who
said they would be willing to make a donation to help alleviate the
AIDS emergency has risen from 5 percent to 14 percent.

The survey of 1,004 adults also found that 17 percent of evangelicals
(a group Barna researchers define with a complicated set of nine
questions about doctrine, belief and practice) now say they would help
children orphaned by AIDS, a figure that is up from a shocking 3
percent two years ago.

World Vision calls this a “small but significant increase.”

That’s far too generous. They’re being way too easy on their evangelical friends, and I say that as one of them.

Let me be sure I’ve got this straight: Two years ago, almost none of
the evangelicals polled (in the same Barna survey) said they intended
to make a donation to help the African AIDS emergency. And now, about
85 percent of them still feel the same way.

Hardly reason to celebrate. The numbers should be the direct opposite of what they are….

Jesus said: Suffer the little children to come to me. Feed the hungry. Care for the sick. The poor will always be with you.

Most Christians know this, right?

So, why didn’t the Barna surveyors discover nearly all evangelicals —
the alleged caretakers of Jesus’ gospel message — ready, willing and
able to do whatever it takes to help millions of dying men, women and
children in sub-Saharan Africa live?

The Barna surveyors also reported that about 12 percent of Americans in
general are willing to donate money toward the African AIDS crisis, and
about 13 percent are interested in supporting children orphaned by AIDS.

That’s a negligible difference from the evangelical results.

Where does Jesus fit into the equation?…

Hey, church, what’s it gonna take?

Does Jesus himself have to make a special guest appearance, point at
Africa and shout, “Yo, a little help over here?!” before you realize
it’s unquestionably your responsibility to do something significant to
stem the tide of the AIDS pandemic there?

Yes, it’s up to all of us as human beings, regardless of our religious
persuasion or lack thereof, to care for those most in need….

Actions speak louder than words.

Or as yer man puts it in what (since you asked) is the best track on U2’s new album full of emotional and spiritual spleen:

You speak of signs and wonders
But I need something other
I would believe if I was able
But I’m waiting on the crumbs from your table.

Well put.  ‘Nuff said.

I had Google Ads on the sidebar, and I’ve got almost no control over
what shows up there.  I noticed one easrlier today, with a link to this.  It’s a website sponsored by Campus Crusade for Christ.

It’s a profile of a college student on a website dedicated to a very
evangelical version of Christianity — one that, for instance, thinks
that Catholics can be Christians, as long as they enjoy a personal relationship with Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. 
It presents a view of various religions, but in the end they all prove
inadequate because they don’t provide a personal relationship with God,
as this Christianity says it does.  (I might note that this is a
entirely tautological “critique”, wherein the failing of the religions
that one presents is that they do not match the definition of the
religion they’re pushing.  I hope that the college students for
whom this is aimed have enough sense to use their brains in evaluating
this, but my own experience with college students leaves me unsure
whether that will happen.)

But they chose an HIV positive person who’s a hemophiliac as their
spokesperson.  Why a hemophiliac?  Well, they’re almost the
only “innocent” victims of the plague, because they got the disease in
an entirely passive way — i.e., they did not have sex or shoot
drugs.  And there’s a small fop to not blaming the obvious
culprits.

…So initially I decided to
blame the entire homosexual community. Easy cop-out. But after I thought about
it, I realized it’s kind of stupid to blame an entire group of people for my
problem. I then decided to blame God….

(What about the blood bankers who spent the better part of two years in
the early ’80s trying to prevent any controls being placed upon blood
distribution, even in reaction to AIDS, because they knew it would cut
into their profit margins?)

More to the point, the choice of a hemophiliac presents
difficulty.  Considering what some conservative Christians have
said in the past regarding HIV, about “innocent” versus “non-innocent”
victims of the scourge, we should be suspicious.  I don’t expect
that they would have chosen someone gay, or who had pre-marital sex, or
some other such way — although these are FAR more common than the
hemophilia/blood products transmission route (millions versus a few
thousand).  This is calculated to play to the emotions and to a
blame game, to make the version of Christianity that’s being peddled
more attractive, more pathos-laden.

But it seems fundamentally dishonest.  And I wish I could say that
I’m surprised.  But with this group, I’m not.  They’re not
Jerry Falwell, but they’re not Desmond Tutu, either.

I wish Steve Sawyer rest in death.  And I feel sorry that he and his story have become used in this way.

You probably heard about the ad that CBS and NBC refused to air, in which bouncers keep everyone who’s not straight, white, and nuclear.

In an interview yesterday, the president of research for NBC, Alan
Wurtzel, said the spot ”violated a longstanding policy of NBC, which
is that we don’t permit commercials to deal with issues of public
controversy.” Wurtzel, who is in charge of broadcast standards at the
network, said such issues should be handled by the news department and
not in advertising.

”The problem is not that it depicted gays, but that it suggested
clearly that there are churches that don’t permit a variety of
individuals to participate,” Wurtzel said. ”If they would make it just
a positive message — ‘we’re all-inclusive’ — we’d have no problem
with that spot.”

Except.

Martin Luther King, Jr. noted in 1958,  “Unfortunately, most of
the major denominations still practice segregation in local churches,
hospitals, schools, and other church institutions.  It is
appalling that the most segregated hour of Christian America is eleven
o’clock on Sunday morning, the same hour when many are standing to
sing:  “In Christ There Is No East Nor West.”

And in the informal way that these things do, this holds true
today.  How many “colored people”, queer people, or divorced
people are at your church?  Mine could do better on some of
these.  Yours could, too.  At least the UCC is trying.