The Inherent Anarchism of Christianity

Richard Beck does a nice job in his article, Christian Anarchism and Atheism, setting down the inherently tenuous nature between Christians and the Nation-States in which they find themselves as “resident aliens.”  We have, as Stanley Hauerwas and John Howard Yoder have continually reminded us, no necessary investment in propping up Caesar as a gateway to relevance.

The responsibility of those who follow Jesus is to live faithfully by embodying justice in our lives and relationships–which always carries with it the potential (and sometimes the necessity) of getting crossways with the powers and principalities.

Hope no one ever told you this was going to be easy.

Why Healthcare Is a Christian Issue

The author of Luke tells us in chapter six that Jesus went up to a mountain to pray—that he prayed all night to God. That’s a pretty long time to spend in prayer. Must have been important. The very first thing he does as soon as he finishes praying is call all his disciples together and choose twelve from among them to be apostles, that is, those who will be sent out on his behalf. Those twelve are going to be the foundation upon which the church is built once Jesus is gone, which makes it understandable why Jesus would have struggled all night over whom to call. So, when Jesus finally addresses the twelve who’ve been chosen, we expect that he will say something important. His first address to them after he calls them will be the vision speech, the one where he lays out what’s at the heart of the ministry he has in mind, the ministry for which twelve of them have just been called. Luke tells us that while all the disciples are still gathered around him, Jesus begins to clarify the principles of this new endeavor, which are only highlighted by this latest major personnel move. What’s at the center? What does Jesus indicate will animate his ministry, and therefore, the ministry of his followers? What’s the first thing out of his mouth when laying out the grand plan?

“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh . . . But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep”(Luke 6:20b-21, 24-25).

Now, I want to say right off that I’m not happy about this. By just about any accounting done on a macro level, I’m pretty sure to be lumped in with the latter rather than the former. When the truth is told, though I sometimes struggle to make ends meet, the ends I have to make meet are quite a bit nicer than most of the rest of the world, and the means with which I have at my disposal to meet those ends would surely evoke envy among all but those in the highest percentiles when it comes to the world’s wealth. So, my ox is being gored too as Jesus trots out the core values for the new business model. Unlike most successful ventures, Jesus has the powerful in his sights as the problem and not the solution.
Taking that into consideration, a story I heard last week about someone I know has sparked my thinking about the relationship between those with power and those without. A young woman I know who had a baby not long ago, in the midst of all the adjustments the family has to make to accommodate a new arrival, received a bill from the insurance company enumerating costs and covered benefits. One of the things that the bill said, much to her surprise (and chagrin), was that the insurance company considered an epidural an elective procedure for a vaginal birth. When I told my wife about the position the insurance company had taken, she said, “Some damn man made that decision!” Over the next few days, almost everyone to whom I told that story said exactly the same thing. One African-American minister from a church on the West Side to whom I relayed the story said, “This talk about the Public Option taking away choice is funny to people in my congregation.”

“Why?” I said.

“Because the only people who’ve ever had any choice about healthcare is rich people. The only healthcare choice poor people have is which emergency room to take your kid to.”

All of which got me to thinking . . .

Although the healthcare system we have now is excellent in many ways, one of its fatal flaws is that powerful people make decisions for others based not on the best interests of the patient, but on the interests of keeping costs low and profits high. That’s just part of it. The rich making decisions about what the poor ought to do because they’ve committed the unpardonable sin of poverty, white folks making decisions for everyone about nearly everything down to which drinking fountain black folks could use, men making decisions for women about everything down to what women should be able to endure in childbirth,  straight folks telling gay and lesbians what marriage is and who qualifies are only symptomatic of power arrangements that have been in place for as long as anyone can remember. And the church, of course, has often been a major player in underwriting those power arrangements. What struck me was that from the outset Jesus identified inequitable power arrangements (of which, admittedly, many of us have been the beneficiaries) as the problem. He could have started with any number of things at the beginning of his ministry, but he started out with the poor and the powerless.

Those disciples who are called two thousand years later to share in that same ministry probably ought to take note.

On the Inauguration of Barack Obama

“When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. ¹²For now we see in a mirror, dimly,^* but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:11-12).

Yesterday, Barack Obama, took the oath of office—the first African-American to do so.  It has been repeated so often that now it is a commonplace, but one worth rehearsing again: Regardless of your politics, yesterday marked an important day in the history of this country.  One hundred years from now children in schools all over the world will be reading about what happened on the Capitol Mall yesterday—a day in which America took its own proclamations about equality seriously enough to inaugurate a man who, only a generation ago would have been escorted to the back of the bus, a man who, only four or five generations ago stood a better than even chance of being someone’s property, listed on an inventory between head of cattle and bales of cotton.  I happen to have a prickly relationship with American history—bearing in mind the ambivalence it, I think, rightly evokes.  However, yesterday marked a proud day, one which we can only hope will be a new chapter in that history.  One thing’s for certain, though—it will look decidedly different from the history and the politics on which those capable of reading this cut our teeth.

I was struck by President Obama’s use of this reference from First Corinthians—about growing up and putting away childish things.  He clearly alluded to the past as a touchstone for where we should be headed in the future.  Of course, he was talking about the petty maneuvering that “strangles our politics.”  But I also heard whispers of how the missteps of a young country, specifically with respect to race, ought to give way to a mature and confident adulthood.  Having taken the oath of office, the bi-racial son of an immigrant father and Midwestern mother, he stood as a symbol for what the future might hold, if we ever see our way clear to growing up.  It’s a tough situation, though.  No question.

Paul, in writing to the Corinthian church, realizes the tough pastoral care situation he faces.  The church at Corinth was in turmoil—divisions and arguments over spiritual gifts, immorality and a disregard for the poor, political scheming and legal confrontations between members.  In short, the church had failed to mature.  The situation angered Paul.  So Paul’s comments about putting an end to childish ways are a reaction to a group of people who seemed bent on destroying one another to advance particular agendas.  But these weren’t just any people—they were Christians.  Paul seems to think that this distinction ought to make a difference.

But why, though?  Why does Paul think that being a disciple of Jesus ought to clean up an otherwise fetid swamp?  I think it has to do with the odd line about seeing “but a poor reflection as in a mirror,” nevertheless declaring that there will come a time when “we shall see face to face.”  Paul says to the struggling church in Corinth that though we cannot see it now, we are headed on a journey because of who we follow that will result in the ultimate goal of “knowing fully, even as [we] are fully known.”  We will one day—by the grace of God—grow up.

Whether Barack Obama can lead America down its own path to maturity remains to be seen.  But our biggest hope is not the healing of a nation (as important as that is), but in the redemption of creation.  And only God can deliver on that promise.

2008 Election

As I write this article on the Monday night before the 2008 Presidential election, I sense the momentous occasion the country faces in the morning as we anticipate dragging our bodies out of bed to head to our respective polling places to cast votes.  Things in the world seem off center.  Not only has the global economy gone south, but our country finds itself in the midst of two wars—with no end in sight on either account.  Politicians sidle up to hyperbole quicker than a white cat to a black suit; but in the present instance, when we hear a politician saying things like, “This is the biggest election of our lifetime,” we’re much less inclined to chalk it up to the traditional rhetorical over-exuberance of politicians in full partisan voice.  The 2008 election feels historic for a number of reasons: we have an African-American candidate for President, a female candidate for vice-President, a seventy-two year-old former P.O.W. for the other Presidential candidate.  With the economic meltdown, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the recent energy crunch, the problems with the healthcare system, the specter of terrorism always looming on the margins, there is a sense that we have to get this one right (actually, correct might be better).  We find it difficult to avoid the sense that the world needs us to do well on November 4, 2008.

It is the “needs” about which I think Christians must be cautious.  Obviously, I don’t want to argue that this election isn’t of real importance—it is.  On the other hand, Christians have too often acted as though getting the right (correct) politician in office is the fulfillment of our Christian responsibilities to the world in which we live.  In fact, however, our hope (as audacious as it might be) is never centered on whether we can help get the politics to agree with us, but rather, whether we can live faithfully as a community of disciples—regardless of who holds the levers of power.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I have opinions about who stands in the best position to make the world more equitable and just from a political perspective.  On the other hand, I realize that Christians live on this side of the eschaton.  In other words, I realize that no matter who wins, the world, as it is presently situated, falls short of God’s expansive vision for the future.  In fact, we’re preparing to celebrate Advent—the season in which we formalize our commitment to waiting for God in Christ to redeem the world.  So, while we may characterize our political commitments as Republican or Democrat, at heart, Christians are ultimately monarchists—we’re awaiting the return of the King.

All of which is to say, no matter who wins at the polls, our ultimate trust is in God—who alone is capable of getting it right (I mean correct).