Are Christians asking the wrong questions concerning Bin Laden?

The following blog post is a letter written by a believer who posted it on facebook.  Out of respect for him, I will withhold his name.  Suffice to say, he has helped me reconcile what has been a seemingly troublesome contradiction concerning my faith. I am indebted to him.

The question that keeps cropping up a lot is do we have the right to take "vengeance" on Bin Laden? That is the wrong question; it is nothing but a red herring. The question denotes an ignorance of the Bible as well as the situation.  1) A Christian is not going to be asked by the President of the United States to kill Bin Laden. 2) Bin Laden was killed by the government of the United States, not the Baptist Church on the corner.  If the president asked the local Baptist church to "carry out this mission" than they would have an argument to make as to why they should not kill Bin Laden.  But Christians are not being asked to kill, so the entire question is very moot.  So why are Christians asking this question?

The reason is they are asking this type of question because they are under the assumption that America is a Christian nation, governed by the Sermon on the Mount as its constitution, and that the US Government are filled with Christians who are breaking the rules of "not loving your enemy." The other reason I think they do this is because they want to be relevant somehow to the event of Bin Laden's death.  

The assumption is that all men are "In the image of God" and therefore, should be given the assumption of such an image.  Therefore, the image of God should not be killed, at least by a Christian.  Yet no one is asking a Christian to do such a thing.  But even if that was the case, here is a man who is killing/murdering others who are in the image of God, so where is their justice in this?  Does the murderer, who is still living, get more rights to the image of God then the ones who were murdered?  That seems to be the implication of this argument.

I think one of the reasons for this is because Christians have made the word "Justice" into a four letter word that Christians should never say nor do.  So the idea of allowing Justice to be executed would be counter to the argument of all men being in the image of God, and therefore, only God should execute such justice.  So the cycle continues, a Christians should never execute justice against an evil person, because, that evil person is a person in the image of God.  It is a vicious cycle of nonsense.  The question that arises from this: How can Christians make the right decision on justice today, if they are making such nonsensical logical statement, and still be trusted by Christ to judge the angels and the world at His return?  

At this point, I would trust Obama to make the right choice than I would a Christian, who holds the view that only God should execute vengeance.  But the problem is, no one is executing vengeance, but Justice.  If Christians are willing to defer Justice to God all the time, how can God trust them to execute Justice during the reign of Christ?  At least Obama did the right thing and executed the order to bring Usama Bin Laden to justice.  I assume they wanted to bring him in person and try him, but he put up a fight and had to be killed.  As President of the United States Obama did the right thing, he ordered Seal Team 6 to bring in Usama Bin Laden. 

The question that Christians need to be asking is: “how does justice works within the world and how Christians should respond to such justice?” By this example Christians are asking the wrong questions and they are making themselves irrelevant to the situation.  The way the questions are being asked, they are inserting themselves into the situation where they are not supposed to be.  Vengeance belongs to God, but no one is asking you to commit Vigilante justice on Bin Laden.  The President of the United States is not asking the local Baptist Church to send out the choir to kill Bin Laden.  The Pastor is not the President of the United States to determine such actions against Bin Laden.  America’s government is not based on the Sermon on the Mount and Ten Commandments, where we are commanded to love God and our neighbor as our-self.  So stop judging the situation, it is not your responsibility to condemn the actions of the U.S. Military who were ordered by the President of the United States to go after and bring Bin Laden to Justice.  President Obama was doing what was required of him, Seal Team 6 were carrying out their orders given to them by the President of the United States.  God ordained that Governments do exactly what the US Government did to Bin Laden.  The killing of Bin Laden was a just act in the eyes of God.

The question of “Does God delight in the death of Bin Laden” posed by John Piper. “Should we love our enemies by the Resurgence” (Mars Hill Church, Pastor Mark Driscoll) are irrelevant to the situation.  They are just muddying up the waters; making a simple act into a more complicated situation by dragging in questions that have nothing to do with the situation.  Stop trying to be relevant to the situation until you gain a proper understanding of what it means to execute Justice.     

Remembering King: Forty-Three Years Later

On April 4, 1968, a violent act by a hateful man deprived the nation and the world of one of its true visionaries and men of peace. Martin Luther King, Jr., like Gandhi and Jesus before him, was that rare bread of leader: a man who spoke truth to power and challenged all of us to look in the mirror. As Robert Frost would say, he took the road less traveled, and for millions of us that made all the difference.  More than forty years later, what he stood for is no less relevant than it was at the time of his untimely death.

Of all the eloquent and moving speeches King gave throughout his relatively brief life, none more crystallized the state of the nation both then and, sadly, now as the one he actually never gave but wrote from a Birmingham jail in 1963. Never one afraid to stir the pot, King held nothing back and, like the good parent with a wayward child, he did not spar the rod.

If his words make you squirm, so be it. For like Gandhi and Christ, King never seemed all that concerned with the comfort level of his followers. This letter – a rebuke to his fellow clergymen who were critical of his stances – is both biting and salient, for the issues it deals with are as old as society itself and they challenge much of what we have come to accept as our pre-conceived core values in this so-called Christian nation.

It needs no explanation, nor justification, for it suffices on the sheer merit of its truth, wisdom and conviction.

Bon Appétit!


MY DEAR FELLOW CLERGYMEN:

While confined here in the Birmingham city jail, I came across your recent statement calling my present activities “unwise and untimely.” Seldom do I pause to answer criticism of my work and ideas. If I sought to answer all the criticisms that cross my desk, my secretaries would have little time for anything other than such correspondence in the course of the day, and I would have no time for constructive work. But since I feel that you are men of genuine good will and that your criticisms are sincerely set forth, I want to try to answer your statements in what I hope will be patient and reasonable terms.

I think I should indicate why I am here In Birmingham, since you have been influenced by the view which argues against “outsiders coming in.” I have the honor of serving as president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, an organization operating in every southern state, with headquarters in Atlanta, Georgia. We have some eighty-five affiliated organizations across the South, and one of them is the Alabama Christian Movement for Human Rights. Frequently we share staff, educational and financial resources with our affiliates. Several months ago the affiliate here in Birmingham asked us to be on call to engage in a nonviolent direct-action program if such were deemed necessary. We readily consented, and when the hour came we lived up to our promise. So I, along with several members of my staff, am here because I was invited here I am here because I have organizational ties here.

But more basically, I am in Birmingham because injustice is here. Just as the prophets of the eighth century B.C. left their villages and carried their “thus saith the Lord” far beyond the boundaries of their home towns, and just as the Apostle Paul left his village of Tarsus and carried the gospel of Jesus Christ to the far corners of the Greco-Roman world, so am I compelled to carry the gospel of freedom beyond my own home town. Like Paul, I must constantly respond to the Macedonian call for aid.

Moreover, I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and states. I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial "outside agitator" idea. Anyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider anywhere within its bounds.

You deplore the demonstrations taking place in Birmingham. But your statement, I am sorry to say, fails to express a similar concern for the conditions that brought about the demonstrations. I am sure that none of you would want to rest content with the superficial kind of social analysis that deals merely with effects and does not grapple with underlying causes. It is unfortunate that demonstrations are taking place in Birmingham, but it is even more unfortunate that the city's white power structure left the Negro community with no alternative.

In any nonviolent campaign there are four basic steps: collection of the facts to determine whether injustices exist; negotiation; self-purification; and direct action. We have gone through all of these steps in Birmingham. There can be no gainsaying the fact that racial injustice engulfs this community. Birmingham is probably the most thoroughly segregated city in the United States. Its ugly record of brutality is widely known. Negroes have experienced grossly unjust treatment in the courts. There have been more unsolved bombings of Negro homes and churches in Birmingham than in any other city in the nation. These are the hard, brutal facts of the case. On the basis of these conditions, Negro leaders sought to negotiate with the city fathers. But the latter consistently refused to engage in good-faith negotiation.

Then, last September, came the opportunity to talk with leaders of Birmingham's economic community. In the course of the negotiations, certain promises were made by the merchants --- for example, to remove the stores humiliating racial signs. On the basis of these promises, the Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth and the leaders of the Alabama Christian Movement for Human Rights agreed to a moratorium on all demonstrations. As the weeks and months went by, we realized that we were the victims of a broken promise. A few signs, briefly removed, returned; the others remained.

As in so many past experiences, our hopes had been blasted, and the shadow of deep disappointment settled upon us. We had no alternative except to prepare for direct action, whereby we would present our very bodies as a means of laying our case before the conscience of the local and the national community. Mindful of the difficulties involved, we decided to undertake a process of self-purification. We began a series of workshops on nonviolence, and we repeatedly asked ourselves : “Are you able to accept blows without retaliating?” “Are you able to endure the ordeal of jail?” We decided to schedule our direct-action program for the Easter season, realizing that except for Christmas, this is the main shopping period of the year. Knowing that a strong economic withdrawal program would be the by-product of direct action, we felt that this would be the best time to bring pressure to bear on the merchants for the needed change.

Then it occurred to us that Birmingham’s mayoralty election was coming up in March, and we speedily decided to postpone action until after election day. When we discovered that the Commissioner of Public Safety, Eugene “Bull” Connor, had piled up enough votes to be in the run-off we decided again to postpone action until the day after the run-off so that the demonstrations could not be used to cloud the issues. Like many others, we waited to see Mr. Connor defeated, and to this end we endured postponement after postponement. Having aided in this community need, we felt that our direct-action program could be delayed no longer.

You may well ask: “Why direct action? Why sit-ins, marches and so forth? Isn't negotiation a better path?” You are quite right in calling for negotiation. Indeed, this is the very purpose of direct action. Nonviolent direct action seeks to create such a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue. It seeks to so dramatize the issue that it can no longer be ignored. My citing the creation of tension as part of the work of the nonviolent-resister may sound rather shocking. But I must confess that I am not afraid of the word “tension.” I have earnestly opposed violent tension, but there is a type of constructive, nonviolent tension, which is necessary for growth. Just as Socrates felt that it was necessary to create a tension in the mind so that individuals could rise from the bondage of myths and half-truths to the unfettered realm of creative analysis and objective appraisal, we must we see the need for nonviolent gadflies to create the kind of tension in society that will help men rise from the dark depths of prejudice and racism to the majestic heights of understanding and brotherhood.

The purpose of our direct-action program is to create a situation so crisis-packed that it will inevitably open the door to negotiation. I therefore concur with you in your call for negotiation. Too long has our beloved Southland been bogged down in a tragic effort to live in monologue rather than dialogue.

One of the basic points in your statement is that the action that I and my associates have taken .in Birmingham is untimely. Some have asked: “Why didn't you give the new city administration time to act?” The only answer that I can give to this query is that the new Birmingham administration must be prodded about as much as the outgoing one, before it will act. We are sadly mistaken if we feel that the election of Albert Boutwell as mayor will bring the millennium to Birmingham. While Mr. Boutwell is a much more gentle person than Mr. Connor, they are both segregationists, dedicated to maintenance of the status quo. I have hope that Mr. Boutwell will be reasonable enough to see the futility of massive resistance to desegregation. But he will not see this without pressure from devotees of civil rights. My friends, I must say to you that we have not made a single gain civil rights without determined legal and nonviolent pressure. Lamentably, it is an historical fact that privileged groups seldom give up their privileges voluntarily.

Individuals may see the moral light and voluntarily give up their unjust posture; but, as Reinhold Niebuhr has reminded us, groups tend to be more immoral than individuals.

We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct-action campaign that was "well timed" in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word “Wait!” It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This “Wait” has almost always meant “Never.” We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that “justice too long delayed is justice denied.”

We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God-given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political independence, but we stiff creep at horse-and-buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging dark of segregation to say, “Wait.” But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she can't go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking: “Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”; when you take a cross-country drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading “white” and “colored”; when your first name becomes “nigger,” your middle name becomes “boy” (however old you are) and your last name becomes “John,” and your wife and mother are never given the respected title “Mrs.”; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you go forever fighting a degenerating sense of “nobodiness” then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience.

You express a great deal of anxiety over our willingness to break laws. This is certainly a legitimate concern. Since we so diligently urge people to obey the Supreme Court's decision of 1954 outlawing segregation in the public schools, at first glance it may seem rather paradoxical for us consciously to break laws. One may want to ask: "How can you advocate breaking some laws and obeying others?" The answer lies in the fact that there are two types of laws: just and unjust. I would be the first to advocate obeying just laws. One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that “an unjust law is no law at all.”

Now, what is the difference between the two? How does one determine whether a law is just or unjust? A just law is a man-made code that squares with the moral law or the law of God. An unjust law is a code that is out of harmony with the moral law. To put it in the terms of St. Thomas Aquinas: An unjust law is a human law that is not rooted in eternal law and natural law. Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust. All segregation statutes are unjust because segregation distorts the soul and damages the personality. It gives the segregator a false sense of superiority and the segregated a false sense of inferiority. Segregation, to use the terminology of the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber, substitutes an "I-it" relationship for an "I-thou" relationship and ends up relegating persons to the status of things. Hence segregation is not only politically, economically and sociologically unsound, it is morally wrong and awful. Paul Tillich said that sin is separation. Is not segregation an existential expression 'of man's tragic separation, his awful estrangement, his terrible sinfulness? Thus it is that I can urge men to obey the 1954 decision of the Supreme Court, for it is morally right; and I can urge them to disobey segregation ordinances, for they are morally wrong.

Let us consider a more concrete example of just and unjust laws. An unjust law is a code that a numerical or power majority group compels a minority group to obey but does not make binding on itself. This is difference made legal. By the same token, a just law is a code that a majority compels a minority to follow and that it is willing to follow itself. This is sameness made legal.

Let me give another explanation. A law is unjust if it is inflicted on a minority that, as a result of being denied the right to vote, had no part in enacting or devising the law. Who can say that the legislature of Alabama which set up that state's segregation laws was democratically elected? Throughout Alabama all sorts of devious methods are used to prevent Negroes from becoming registered voters, and there are some counties in which, even though Negroes constitute a majority of the population, not a single Negro is registered. Can any law enacted under such circumstances be considered democratically structured?

Sometimes a law is just on its face and unjust in its application. For instance, I have been arrested on a charge of parading without a permit. Now, there is nothing wrong in having an ordinance which requires a permit for a parade. But such an ordinance becomes unjust when it is used to maintain segregation and to deny citizens the First Amendment privilege of peaceful assembly and protest.

I hope you are able to ace the distinction I am trying to point out. In no sense do I advocate evading or defying the law, as would the rabid segregationist. That would lead to anarchy. One who breaks an unjust law must do so openly, lovingly, and with a willingness to accept the penalty. I submit that an individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust and who willingly accepts the penalty of imprisonment in order to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the highest respect for law.

Of course, there is nothing new about this kind of civil disobedience. It was evidenced sublimely in the refusal of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego to obey the laws of Nebuchadnezzar, on the ground that a higher moral law was at stake. It was practiced superbly by the early Christians, who were willing to face hungry lions and the excruciating pain of chopping blocks rather than submit to certain unjust laws of the Roman Empire. To a degree, academic freedom is a reality today because Socrates practiced civil disobedience. In our own nation, the Boston Tea Party represented a massive act of civil disobedience.

We should never forget that everything Adolf Hitler did in Germany was “legal” and everything the Hungarian freedom fighters did in Hungary was “illegal.” It was “illegal” to aid and comfort a Jew in Hitler's Germany. Even so, I am sure that, had I lived in Germany at the time, I would have aided and comforted my Jewish brothers. If today I lived in a Communist country where certain principles dear to the Christian faith are suppressed, I would openly advocate disobeying that country's antireligious laws.

I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that law and order exist for the purpose of establishing justice and that when they fan in this purpose they become the dangerously structured dams that block the flow of social progress. I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that the present tension in the South is a necessary phase of the transition from an obnoxious negative peace, in which the Negro passively accepted his unjust plight, to a substantive and positive peace, in which all men will respect the dignity and worth of human personality. Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt with. Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up but must be opened with an its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.

In your statement you assert that our actions, even though peaceful, must be condemned because they precipitate violence. But is this a logical assertion? Isn't this like condemning a robbed man because his possession of money precipitated the evil act of robbery? Isn't this like condemning Socrates because his unswerving commitment to truth and his philosophical inquiries precipitated the act by the misguided populace in which they made him drink hemlock? Isn't this like condemning Jesus because his unique God-consciousness and never-ceasing devotion to God's will precipitated the evil act of crucifixion? We must come to see that, as the federal courts have consistently affirmed, it is wrong to urge an individual to cease his efforts to gain his basic constitutional rights because the quest may precipitate violence. Society must protect the robbed and punish the robber.

I had also hoped that the white moderate would reject the myth concerning time in relation to the struggle for freedom. I have just received a letter from a white brother in Texas. He writes: “All Christians know that the colored people will receive equal rights eventually, but it is possible that you are in too great a religious hurry. It has taken Christianity almost two thousand years to accomplish what it has. The teachings of Christ take time to come to earth.” Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time, from the strangely rational notion that there is something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people. Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co-workers with God, and without this 'hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity.

You speak of our activity in Birmingham as extreme. At fist I was rather disappointed that fellow clergymen would see my nonviolent efforts as those of an extremist. I began thinking about the fact that stand in the middle of two opposing forces in the Negro community. One is a force of complacency, made up in part of Negroes who, as a result of long years of oppression, are so drained of self-respect and a sense of “somebodiness” that they have adjusted to segregation; and in part of a few middle class Negroes who, because of a degree of academic and economic security and because in some ways they profit by segregation, have become insensitive to the problems of the masses. The other force is one of bitterness and hatred, and it comes perilously close to advocating violence. It is expressed in the various black nationalist groups that are springing up across the nation, the largest and best-known being Elijah Muhammad's Muslim movement. Nourished by the Negro's frustration over the continued existence of racial discrimination, this movement is made up of people who have lost faith in America, who have absolutely repudiated Christianity, and who have concluded that the white man is an incorrigible “devil.”

I have tried to stand between these two forces, saying that we need emulate neither the “do-nothingism” of the complacent nor the hatred and despair of the black nationalist. For there is the more excellent way of love and nonviolent protest. I am grateful to God that, through the influence of the Negro church, the way of nonviolence became an integral part of our struggle.

If this philosophy had not emerged, by now many streets of the South would, I am convinced, be flowing with blood. And I am further convinced that if our white brothers dismiss as “rabble-rousers” and “outside agitators” those of us who employ nonviolent direct action, and if they refuse to support our nonviolent efforts, millions of Negroes will, out of frustration and despair, seek solace and security in black-nationalist ideologies a development that would inevitably lead to a frightening racial nightmare.

Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever. The yearning for freedom eventually manifests itself, and that is what has happened to the American Negro. Something within has reminded him of his birthright of freedom, and something without has reminded him that it can be gained. Consciously or unconsciously, he has been caught up by the Zeitgeist, and with his black brothers of Africa and his brown and yellow brothers of Asia, South America and the Caribbean, the United States Negro is moving with a sense of great urgency toward the promised land of racial justice. If one recognizes this vital urge that has engulfed the Negro community, one should readily understand why public demonstrations are taking place. The Negro has many pent-up resentments and latent frustrations, and he must release them. So let him march; let him make prayer pilgrimages to the city hall; let him go on freedom rides--and try to understand why he must do so. If his repressed emotions are not released in nonviolent ways, they will seek expression through violence; this is not a threat but a fact of history. So I have not said to my people: “Get rid of your discontent.” Rather, I have tried to say that this normal and healthy discontent can be channeled into the creative outlet of nonviolent direct action. And now this approach is being termed extremist.

But though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an extremist for love: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” Was not Amos an extremist for justice: “Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” Was not Paul an extremist for the Christian gospel: “I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus.” Was not Martin Luther an extremist: “Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise, so help me God.” And John Bunyan: “I will stay in jail to the end of my days before I make a butchery of my conscience.” And Abraham Lincoln: “This nation cannot survive half slave and half free.” And Thomas Jefferson: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal ...” So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? In that dramatic scene on Calvary's hill three men were crucified. We must never forget that all three were crucified for the same crime---the crime of extremism. Two were extremists for immorality, and thus fell below their environment. The other, Jesus Christ, was an extremist for love, truth and goodness, and thereby rose above his environment. Perhaps the South, the nation and the world are in dire need of creative extremists.

I had hoped that the white moderate would see this need. Perhaps I was too optimistic; perhaps I expected too much. I suppose I should have realized that few members of the oppressor race can understand the deep groans and passionate yearnings of the oppressed race, and still fewer have the vision to see that injustice must be rooted out by strong, persistent and determined action. I am thankful, however, that some of our white brothers in the South have grasped the meaning of this social revolution and committed themselves to it. They are still too few in quantity, but they are big in quality. Some---such as Ralph McGill, Lillian Smith, Harry Golden, James McBride Dabbs, Ann Braden and Sarah Patton Boyle---have written about our struggle in eloquent and prophetic terms. Others have marched with us down nameless streets of the South. They have languished in filthy, roach-infested jails, suffering the abuse and brutality of policemen who view them as “dirty nigger lovers.” Unlike so many of their moderate brothers and sisters, they have recognized the urgency of the moment and sensed the need for powerful “action” antidotes to combat the disease of segregation.

Let me take note of my other major disappointment. I have been so greatly disappointed with the white church and its leadership. Of course, there are some notable exceptions. I am not unmindful of the fact that each of you has taken some significant stands on this issue. I commend you, Reverend Stallings, for your Christian stand on this past Sunday, in welcoming Negroes to your worship service on a non segregated basis. I commend the Catholic leaders of this state for integrating Spring Hill College several years ago.

But despite these notable exceptions, I must honestly reiterate that I have been disappointed with the church. I do not say this as one of those negative critics who can always find something wrong with the church. I say this as a minister of the gospel, who loves the church; who was nurtured in its bosom; who has been sustained by its spiritual blessings and who will remain true to it as long as the cord of Rio shall lengthen.

When I was suddenly catapulted into the leadership of the bus protest in Montgomery, Alabama, a few years ago, I felt we would be supported by the white church felt that the white ministers, priests and rabbis of the South would be among our strongest allies. Instead, some have been outright opponents, refusing to understand the freedom movement and misrepresenting its leader era; and too many others have been more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of stained-glass windows.

In spite of my shattered dreams, I came to Birmingham with the hope that the white religious leadership of this community would see the justice of our cause and, with deep moral concern, would serve as the channel through which our just grievances could reach the power structure. I had hoped that each of you would understand. But again I have been disappointed.

I have heard numerous southern religious leaders admonish their worshipers to comply with a desegregation decision because it is the law, but I have longed to hear white ministers declare: “Follow this decree because integration is morally right and because the Negro is your brother.” In the midst of blatant injustices inflicted upon the Negro, I have watched white churchmen stand on the sideline and mouth pious irrelevancies and sanctimonious trivialities. In the midst of a mighty struggle to rid our nation of racial and economic injustice, I have heard many ministers say: “Those are social issues, with which the gospel has no real concern.” And I have watched many churches commit themselves to a completely other worldly religion which makes a strange, on Biblical distinction between body and soul, between the sacred and the secular.

I have traveled the length and breadth of Alabama, Mississippi and all the other southern states. On sweltering summer days and crisp autumn mornings I have looked at the South's beautiful churches with their lofty spires pointing heavenward. I have beheld the impressive outlines of her massive religious-education buildings. Over and over I have found myself asking: “What kind of people worship here? Who is their God? Where were their voices when the lips of Governor Barnett dripped with words of interposition and nullification? Where were they when Governor Wallace gave a clarion call for defiance and hatred? Where were their voices of support when bruised and weary Negro men and women decided to rise from the dark dungeons of complacency to the bright hills of creative protest?”

Yes, these questions are still in my mind. In deep disappointment I have wept over the laxity of the church. But be assured that my tears have been tears of love. There can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love. Yes, I love the church. How could I do otherwise? l am in the rather unique position of being the son, the grandson and the great-grandson of preachers. Yes, I see the church as the body of Christ. But, oh! How we have blemished and scarred that body through social neglect and through fear of being nonconformists.

There was a time when the church was very powerful in the time when the early Christians rejoiced at being deemed worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society. Whenever the early Christians entered a town, the people in power became disturbed and immediately sought to convict the Christians for being “disturbers of the peace” and “outside agitators.” But the Christians pressed on, in the conviction that they were “a colony of heaven,” called to obey God rather than man. Small in number, they were big in commitment. They were too God intoxicated to be “astronomically intimidated.” By their effort and example they brought an end to such ancient evils as infanticide and gladiatorial contests.

Things are different now. So often the contemporary church is a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. So often it is an arch-defender of the status quo. Par from being disturbed by the presence of the church, the power structure of the average community is consoled by the church's silent and often even vocal sanction of things as they are.

But the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If today's church does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authenticity, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century. Every day I meet young people whose disappointment with the church has turned into outright disgust.

Perhaps I have once again been too optimistic. Is organized religion too inextricably bound to the status quo to save our nation and the world? Perhaps I must turn my faith to the inner spiritual church, the church within the church, as the true ecclesia and the hope of the world. But again I am thankful to God that some noble souls from the ranks of organized religion have broken loose from the paralyzing chains of conformity and joined us as active partners in the struggle for freedom, They have left their secure congregations and walked the streets of Albany, Georgia, with us. They have gone down the highways of the South on tortuous rides for freedom. Yes, they have gone to jai with us. Some have been dismissed from their churches; have lost the support of their bishops and fellow ministers. But they have acted in the faith that right defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. Their witness has been the spiritual salt that has preserved the true meaning of the gospel in these troubled times. They have carved a tunnel of hope through the dark mountain of disappointment.

I hope the church as a whole will meet the challenge of this decisive hour. But even if the church does not come to the aid of justice, I have no despair about the future. I have no fear about the outcome of our struggle in Birmingham, even if our motives are at present misunderstood. We will reach the goal of freedom in Birmingham, and all over the nation, because the goal of America is freedom. Abused and scorned though we may be, our destiny is tied up with America's destiny. Before the pilgrims landed at Plymouth, we were here. Before the pen of Jefferson etched the majestic words of the Declaration of Independence across the pages of history, we were here. For more than two centuries our forebears labored in this country without wages; they made cotton king; they built the homes of their masters while suffering gross injustice and shameful humiliation-and yet out of a bottomless vitality they continued to thrive and develop. If the inexpressible cruelties of slavery could not stop us, the opposition we now face will surely fail. We will win our freedom because the sacred heritage of our nation and the eternal will of God are embodied in our echoing demands.

Before closing I feel impelled to mention one other point in your statement that has troubled me profoundly. You warmly commended the Birmingham police force for keeping “order” and “preventing violence.” I doubt that you would have so warmly commended the police force if you had seen its dogs sinking their teeth into unarmed, nonviolent Negroes. I doubt that you would so quickly commend the policemen if you were to observe their ugly and inhumane treatment of Negroes here in the city jail; if you were to watch them push and curse old Negro women and young Negro girls; if you were to see them slap and kick old Negro men and young boys; if you were to observe them, as they did on two occasions, refuse to give us food because we wanted to sing our grace together. I cannot join you in your praise of the Birmingham police department.

It is true that the police have exercised a degree of discipline in handing the demonstrators. In this sense they have conducted themselves rather “nonviolently” in public. But for what purpose? To preserve the evil system of segregation. Over the past few years I have consistently preached that nonviolence demands that the means we use must be as pure as the ends we seek. I have tried to make clear that it is wrong to use immoral means to attain moral ends. But now I must affirm that it is just as wrong, or perhaps even more so, to use moral means to preserve immoral ends. Perhaps Mr. Connor and his policemen have been rather nonviolent in public, as was Chief Pritchett in Albany, Georgia but they have used the moral means of nonviolence to maintain the immoral end of racial injustice. As T. S. Eliot has said: “The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason.”

I wish you had commended the Negro sit-inners and demonstrators of Birmingham for their sublime courage, their willingness to suffer and their amazing discipline in the midst of great provocation. One day the South will recognize its real heroes. There will be the James Merediths, with the noble sense of purpose that enables them to face jeering and hostile mobs, and with the agonizing loneliness that characterizes the life of the pioneer. There will be the old, oppressed, battered Negro women, symbolized in a seventy-two-year-old woman in Montgomery, Alabama, who rose up with a sense of dignity and with her people decided not to ride segregated buses, and who responded with ungrammatical profundity to one who inquired about her weariness: “My feets is tired, but my soul is at rest.” There will be the young high school and college students, the young ministers of the gospel and a host of their elders, courageously and nonviolently sitting in at lunch counters and willingly going to jail for conscience' sake. One day the South will know that when these disinherited children of God sat down at lunch counters, they were in reality standing up for what is best in the American dream and for the most sacred values in our Judaeo-Christian heritage, thereby bringing our nation back to those great wells of democracy which were dug deep by the founding fathers in their formulation of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence.

Never before have I written so long a letter. I'm afraid it is much too long to take your precious time. I can assure you that it would have been much shorter if I had been writing from a comfortable desk, but what else can one do when he is alone in a narrow jail cell, other than write long letters, think long thoughts and pray long prayers?

If I have said anything in this letter that overstates the truth and indicates an unreasonable impatience, I beg you to forgive me. If I have said anything that understates the truth and indicates my having a patience that allows me to settle for anything less than brotherhood, I beg God to forgive me.

I hope this letter finds you strong in the faith. I also hope that circumstances will soon make it possible for me to meet each of you, not as an integrationist or a civil rights leader but as a fellow clergyman and a Christian brother. Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be lifted from our fear-drenched communities, and in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty.



Yours for the cause of Peace and Brotherhood,



Martin Luther King, Jr.

Do They Know It’s Christmas?

Each year we celebrate the Christmas season.  We open up a plethora of gifts, count our blessings, congratulate ourselves on being a fine God-fearing nation, steeped in Christian ideals and charged with telling the world just how wonderful our way of life is.

But the sad truth is that if we really look at ourselves objectively, we are anything but “blessed.”  We are arrogant, self-absorbed, fat, lazy, insular, judgmental and contemptuous of anything and everything we don’t understand or agree with.  In every way imaginable we are about as far removed from what Christ represented as the nations we have the temerity to criticize as being godless and bereft of compassion and mercy.

America remains that ultimate paradox of nations.  On the one hand, a self-proclaimed lover of God, country and freedom; on the other showing an almost complete disdain for that love, possessing an utterly warped perception of its own history and lacking even the most rudimentary understanding of what true freedom really means.  Of the true spirit of Christmas, Americans know precious little.  Our chief occupation appears to be preaching not the Gospel of Christ, but the gospel of greed and corruption.  And now we sit on top of our heap of ashes that serve to remind us, if we dare look, of the wages of our sins, comfortable in our drug of denial.  In every way imaginable we have reaped what we have sowed.

So oblivious are we to our sinful ways that we have become numb to their affects, not only on us, but on the world.  Whether America ever once stood for something great or not - and the jury is still out on that one - one thing is certain: we have worn out our welcome, severely damaged whatever reputation we might have once enjoyed and used up all the credit we have amassed over the generations.  In many ways the United States more closely resembles the Roman Empire prior to its collapse than a beacon of justice and liberty.

Humbleness and humility are nowhere to be found; I’m not sure that they ever existed in the first place.  Charity is mentioned only in the context of distant fairytales that our children read and watch with amusement.  “Are there no workhouses?” has become our enjoining banner.  Were Christ alive today, I fear he would call out America in much the same way he called out the Pharisees of his day.  He would call us a brood of vipers as sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west.  And with every damnable phrase that would leave his lips, we collectively would be condemned as the hypocrites we truly are.  There would be no escape from our just desserts, for we would’ve earned each and every slanderous charge accorded us.  Our fate would be as sealed as the envelopes that hold the meaningless Christmas cards we send to one another.

Many years ago, there was a song I remembered that was released around this time of year.  Fittingly, it was titled, “Do They Know It’s Christmas?”  Of all the songs of this holiday season, none are more fitting or appropriate than this one.  It is hardly joyous or cheerful, but it is, nonetheless, on point.  I may be presumptuous, but I feel if Christ were with us now, he would not only appreciate this song, but would encourage us to keep it in our hearts all the year round.

Merry Christmas.

It's Christmas time, there's no need to be afraid
At Christmas time, we let in light and we banish shade

And in our world of plenty, we can spread a smile of joy!
Throw your arms around the world at Christmas time

But say a prayer - pray for the other ones
At Christmas time, it's hard, but when you're having fun
There's a world outside your window
And it's a world of dreaded fear
Where the only water flowing is a bitter sting of tears
And the Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom

Well tonight thank God it's them instead of you

And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life

Where nothing ever grows
No rain or rivers flow

Do they know it's Christmas time at all?

Here's to you
Raise your glass for everyone
Here's to them
Underneath that burning sun

Do they know it's Christmas time at all?

Feed the world
Feed the world
Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time and
Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time and
Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time and
Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time and
Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time and
Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time 

Sweet Sixteen

Today is the sixteenth anniversary of my marriage to the most wonderful, most patient, and most loving wife a man could have, my darling Maria.  It was a beautiful early autumn morning when I saw my wife being escorted down the aisle by her mother.  They say there is nothing so beautiful as a bride on her wedding day, and that was no less true for Maria.  She was radiant.

There I stood, waiting at the alter with my cousin and best man, for my bride to be to make her way toward my side.  She has been there – at my side – ever since through thick and thin.  And, I don’t think it’s stretching the truth one bit to say I am the luckiest man alive.  I still can’t believe where the time has gone.  We have reached incredible heights and gone through our share of tough ordeals.  Life is the ultimate test to a marriage and while our commitment to one another may have been tested, I thank the good Lord it has never failed.

Our wedding song happens to be the last song Buddy Holly ever recorded before he went on his famous winter tour of 1959: True Love Ways.  Sixteen years later, the words still ring as true as they did that October day in 1994.

Just you know why
Why you and I
Will by and by
Know true love ways.

Sometimes we'll sigh
Sometimes we'll cry
And we'll know why
Just you and I
Know true love ways.

Throughout the days
Our true love ways
Will bring us joy to share
With those who really care.

Sometimes we'll sigh
Sometimes we'll cry
And we'll know why
Just you and I
Know true love ways.

Throughout the days
Our true love ways
Will bring us joy to share
With those who really care.

Sometimes we'll sigh
Sometimes we'll cry
And we'll know why
Just you and I
Know true love ways.

Happy anniversary, sweetheart.  I love you, truly.

Last Call

I remember it as though it were yesterday.  It was a lovely early autumn afternoon in downtown Fort Worth, Texas – warm by New York standards, but I’m sure quite chilly for the locals – and my cousin’s wife was giving me a grand tour of all the hotspots.  I was visiting them and this was to be my last day before returning home.  Up and down the streets we walked, occasionally stopping into a clothing store to check out some threads.  I can’t remember if I bought a hat or not that day, but I’m sure I tried on one or two.

After about an hour or two we happened to come upon a local club called Billy Bob’s, which to this day still refers to itself as the world’s largest honky tonk.  There’s no disputing its enormous size; in deed what struck me most about the place was how cavernous it was when we walked inside for a brew.  With the exception of Sue, myself, the bar tender, and some guy in the corner sweeping up the floor, there wasn’t a soul in the joint.  In fact, given how nice a day it was outside, I though it weird that we would even be in a place like this.

It had been only two nights earlier that my cousin and I got so lit up that his wife had to drive us both home.  I have very little recollection of what happened that night other than we just wanted to go out and have a good time.  That had been the story of my life.  I was always just going out to have a good time.  What was so wrong with that?  The problem was that having a good time had long ago passed.  Over the last few years, the truth was I was just going out to get drunk, pure and simple.

So there I was in this dank, dark, cavernous bar in the middle of the afternoon of a beautiful day, and what was I doing?  Drinking, that’s what.  Except something seemed different this time.  Suddenly, something felt out of place.  I was acutely aware that something was wrong with this picture.  Two people in the middle of an empty bar drinking.  Hmm.  I finished the beer – a Budweiser I think – and suggested to Sue we should split, which we did.

I did not know it then, but that would be my last alcoholic drink.  October 2, 1990, in the middle of the afternoon, in downtown Fort Worth, Texas, at Billy Bob’s.  Who’d have thunk it?  Not I, that’s for sure.  I loved beer; it had become such a part of my life that if you had blindfolded me and gave me samples of each of my favorite beers, I could tell you which one was which.

But the problem was, though I loved beer, it did not love me back.  I had long ago lost control of my drinking to the point that it was no longer fun any more.  I was no longer taking the drink; it was taking me.  I was an alcoholic, and I drank to get drunk, period, not because I was thirsty, like so many other “social” drinkers.  To this day I still don’t know what a social drinker is. 

It would take some time before I would find a program of recovery where I could share about my drinking and learn to live a sober life, but I will never forget that early autumn day lo those twenty years ago.  Much as happened in my life in the years since.  I have found God, gotten married, bought a house, and quietly built a life for myself.  The hardest thing I have had to do in this journey was grow up and become a man.  Putting down the bottle proved easy; living life one day at a time became the tough job.  All that I have today, I owe to that decision I made back there in that bar to stop killing myself and join the human race.

It has not been easy living this life.  I had become quite good at running from my problems.  Alcohol doesn’t just deaden nerve endings in the brain, it stunts your emotional and spiritual growth.  Though I was 29 when I stopped drinking, intellectually I was more like twelve.  Twenty years later I still sometimes feel like a kid.  The difference is I don’t act like one; and if I do step out of line and screw up, I can be a man and own my part.  I don’t run from my problems anymore; I meet them head on.  I’ve learned there is nothing I can’t handle, if I don’t take a drink and I rely on God’s guidance.

My faith in Jesus would’ve been very unlikely had I not found the rooms of recovery.  I came across a man in one of my meetings who recommended a church to me.  Two weeks later I attended my first service in almost a decade, with the exception of weddings and funerals.  I stayed and within a couple of months had made a decision to accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior.  The rest, as they say, is history. 

It's funny how things work out sometimes.  While I have never subscribed to the wildly held belief by so many Christians that everything in this life revolves around some master plan, pre-ordained from the beginning of time, I do believe that God provides us with sign posts along our journey to nudge us along the right path.  All we have to do is follow them to know the peace he has in store for us.

The journey, I hope, is far from over.  There is still so much left to do.  The last five years I have been developing my skills as a writer.  The first fruits have been this blog and the progressive one I started earlier this year.  I fervently believe that God is using these blogs in some way to speak through me, and it is my hope that I have done His will justice.

No matter what happens or where this journey leads I will always look fondly back at that fateful day in 1990 when I made a decision to close one door and open another.  Life is like that, isn’t it?  One door closes and another one opens.  All we have to do is choose to trust in God that the door we are walking through is a safe one.  He hasn’t lead us this far to abandon us, and he has personally never let me down.  My worst day in sobriety is a thousand times better than my best day before it.

There is a reading from a book that all of us in the rooms know by heart.  It goes like this:

“If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations, which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

“Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us—sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them.”

Amen!

The Coming War, and the Unprepared Church

This past weekend the nation commemorated the ninth anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks; in Florida a pastor is threatening to burn Qurans to protest Islamic extremism; in lower Manhattan tensions continue to mount over the proposed building of a Mosque two blocks north of the World Trade Center site; and just last month a commentator turned demigod held a rally to restore America on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial on the 47th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr's I have a Dream speech.

The country, in the middle of the worst recession since the Great Depression, is deeply polarized and divided like no time since the Civil War.  The luster of the election of the first black president has given way to long-standing and latent racial bigotry that is being stoked by scandalous politicians looking to cash in on the base fears and economic frustrations of the electorate.

And, as lines continue to be drawn and hearts continue to harden, the Church, for the most part, seems perfectly content to remain on the sidelines, while its congregants have at each other.  Perhaps not wanting to be dragged into an argument it has judged to be a distraction from what Jesus commissioned it to be, the Church has, for lack of a better term, missed the proverbial forest for the trees.

On any level one cares to examine, the lack of an official response from the Church is profoundly wrong.  Its reluctance to jump into the turbulent waters of the political quagmire the U.S. is caught up in, under some misbegotten belief that it should somehow remain above worldly conflicts, has not only created a vacuum that the enemy has taken advantage of, it is not even Biblically accurate.

We have been told by well-intentioned and otherwise thoughtful Christians that this debate is nothing more than your run of the mill conservative vs. liberal conflict that is as old as the nation itself and will eventually play itself out, as so many conflicts have a habit of doing.  Why get caught up in a dog fight and further exacerbate heated tensions among the flock.  Isn’t that the sort of thing the enemy feeds on: dividing us and thus making us ineffectual?  Well, I have some bad news.  With regards to division and ineffectual Christians, I’m afraid the horse has already left the barn on that one.  The Church needn’t worry about exacerbating tensions.  The ensuing silence has done more to further the cause of bitterness within its ranks than anything the enemy could possibly do.

I’m sorry, but this isn’t as simple as deciding which flavor ice cream one prefers; or choosing which local baseball team has the best chance of winning the pennant, or even whether one feels the rich aren’t paying their fair share of taxes.  The issue before the Church is no mere classic liberal vs. conservative splitting of hairs; it’s as old as civilization itself and it is tearing apart the very fabric of the nation’s soul.  Playing the role of the proverbial bartender who dares not offend his patrons, lest they not leave a tip, is a poor substitute for the role the Church was called to play.  The Church cannot afford the “lofty” stance of being worried about what its customers think of it, especially with so much at stake.  To paraphrase a line out of the movie “The Lord of the Rings,” war is upon the Church, whether it would risk it or not.  Not showing up is not on the option list.

I have made no secret of my disdain for the growing trend of social Darwinism that is plaguing and, sadly, taking over Christianity.  The incessant belief among many “believers” that one can follow the teachings of Jesus, while at the same time, espousing economic philosophies that are inimical to the very faith they claim to love, has perverted that faith and rendered much, if not all, of its teachings irrelevant.  When a single pastor – who obviously has no idea what it means to be a Christian – can threaten an action so thoroughly despicable as burning the holy book of another religion; when a buffoonish, cult-like TV personality can rubber stamp his approval on his brand of Christianity, thus rendering all others blasphemy; when a majority of the population of this country still doesn't understand that freedom of religion is an absolute right, irrespective of what feelings it may elicit, and there is not a unified and unambiguous message of condemnation emanating from every pulpit in the country, one can only wonder what it was that was more important for those pastors to preach about!  Another message on God’s grace being sufficient?  Perhaps yet another in a series of how our unaided will can get us into trouble?  Or maybe just how much Jesus truly loves his children?  Sometimes I wonder what those pastors would be preaching about if their sanctuaries were on fire.  Perhaps the story of Noah’s Ark?

I have always took it for granted that the Word is not a history lesson; that it is a living, breathing blueprint for how we are to live here in the present.  What better way to demonstrate its profound relevance to the world we live in than to unleash its awesome power upon the millions of Christians who every Sunday flock to their respective sanctuaries to be fed?  Instead, what many hear are not relevant lessons that they can incorporate into their daily walk, but empty words that drop to the floor dead on arrival.

Now, before I am called to task for ignoring the plethora of sermons, which do in deed have some merit and have on the whole done justice to scripture, let me also point out that the fundamental failure or reluctance to repudiate false doctrines that have seeped into their congregations, and which are an anathema to God’s revelation, end up canceling out whatever good their sermons might accomplish.  In other words, preaching on the fact that you cannot serve both God and money, while remaining silent on the inequities of society doesn’t wash.  One cannot quote from passages that decry greed and the accumulation of wealth, yet turn a deaf ear to the injustice that surrounds us all.  To do so does violence to the very scripture they are quoting from.

And yet many pastors and priests do this every Sunday to the great relief and delight of the majority of their congregants.  These people hear just enough “truth” to make them squirm a bit, yet escape the piercing blade of conviction that the scripture was intended to invoke.  Somewhere in Heaven Jesus is weeping at the emasculation of the words he so deliberately and painstakingly chose.  This was not what he lived his relatively short life to bring about, and it was not what he intended his followers to be doing.

It comes down to this: Is the Church simply content with delivering a message that stirs but never riles up its followers?  Is it OK with peddling a kinder, softer, watered down Gospel that gives just enough truth and hope, yet stops short of jumping to the unalterable conclusion that virtually all the history we as a nation have been brought up to believe – that we live in a just world where we can “be all we want” and “God helps those who help themselves” – is just flat out wrong and must be rebuked?

These are not easy questions to ask, for they require of our leaders a determined fearlessness that is in deed Christlike.  And no doubt, were the vast majority of churches to employ this tactic and preach the Gospel in such a manner, many within those congregations would flee rather than stand for the conviction they would no doubt receive.  But for those who would remain and the millions more who yearn for such a message of true hope and salvation who would march in through the doors, they would find an authentically relevant Gospel, that is as fearless as it is alive.

Such churches might well be treated as pariahs and called all sorts of names from divisive to anti-American to socialist to whatever.  Many so-called liberation theology churches bare the stain of unjust branding from a world that simply can’t or won’t deal with its own wickedness, in a country that still can’t look its past in the eye and atone for its transgressions.  The only response permissible for any religious body that wishes to represent Christ on Earth should and must be, “So what?”  There is only one ultimate criteria that any local church ought to have with respect to preaching the good news.  The good news must first and foremost be good!  It is not enough to stock food pantries and provide shelter for the homeless if the very institutions that create the need for such charities are themselves left unchallenged.  If we are going to refer to this world as "fallen" the very least we can do is discuss why it is that way, and what can be done to change it.

I have been writing this blog for five years now and, while I am certainly no paragon of virtue in that I fall far short of the mark, as many of us do, I have nonetheless been relentless in calling out the flagrant hypocrisy within the Church, and God willing will continue to do so.  Chief among my criticisms has been this nagging reluctance to reclaim the mantle that Christ commissioned His followers to hold.  For most of the last two thousand years since Jesus ascended to Heaven, the Church has run away from and not toward its founder.  It has made peace with corrupt worldly powers and chosen to stand on the sidelines during tumultuous periods in its history.  We are living in just such a tumultuous period and time is running out.

The coming war is fast approaching and not only is the Church unprepared; it seems strangely aloof and indifferent.  The damage that this is doing is exacting and, I fear, irreversible.  If it does not wake up from its slumber soon the war as we know it could be lost, and millions will pay the ultimate price for a Church that was apostate and derelict in its responsibilities.  For such a ghastly and reprehensible crime there can be only one final judgment from above, and the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, will dispense it.

Houston We Have a Problem!

On July 29, 2010, noted author Anne Rice publicly renounced her dedication to her Roman Catholic faith, yet remained committed to Christ on her Facebook page, stating,

“For those who care, and I understand if you don’t: Today I quit being a Christian. I’m out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being ‘Christian’ or to being part of Christianity. It’s simply impossible for me to ‘belong’ to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years, I’ve tried. I’ve failed. I’m an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else.”

She then followed up her original post a few hours later with the following,

“As I said below, I quit being a Christian. I’m out. In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen.”

To those of us who share many of Rice’s concerns and qualms about the Church in general, this is a bittersweet moment for us. Forget for a moment that it is impossible to “remain committed to Christ” without being a Christian. The two go hand in hand. Forget for a moment, as Rice has apparently done, that there are far more progressive congregations she could have sought out and joined that would’ve allowed and even encouraged her social and political sentiments, and might well have helped her in championing them.

Forget all of that for a moment and let’s examine where we are as a Church right now. For that, I feel, is the more distressing issue before us. People like Rice should serve as painful reminders that there are serious issues that continue to haunt the Church, and which, sadly, define it in the eyes of many: believer and non.

Those who have read this blog – yes all four of you – are well aware of my deep contempt for the right-wing assault on Christianity that has been going on for quite some time. On several occasions I have toyed with the idea of leaving the Church altogether, such was my disgust for what I was witnessing. It was only after much prayer and discussions with a few members that I decided to remain.

This past February I had published a blog – some would call it a treatise – titled “A Declaration of Sorts” in which I laid out my issues in rather blunt terms. What all but two of you don’t know is that it was originally intended to be a resignation letter, if not from the Church altogether, at the very least from the one I was attending. I had had enough. Like Popeye, I could stands no more. I rewrote much of it and made the decision to stay and fight for my beliefs. I was damned if I was going to let the enemy win this battle. Instead the piece became my line in the sand, rather than a hasty and loud retreat.

I called out not just those who were kidnapping our faith in the name of their narrow political agendas, but also those who seemed unwilling to stand up and say, “Enough!”

“Are not all of us commissioned to speak out against injustice, to stand up for those who are less fortunate, to challenge lies with truth and paranoia with reason, to act as Paul did when he rebuked James? Did not Jesus rebuke Peter? Did He not love him nonetheless? Why are so few of us willing to stand our ground when presented with the unalterable conclusions of our lot? Are we exempt simply because we are church elders, senior and associate pastors, small group leaders, fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, doctors and nurses, lawyers and bankers, athletes and journalists, politicians and statesmen, salespeople and consumers, professors and students? What is the level of our comfort that keeps our mouths shut when our spirit cries out in anguish? Is our new suit too delicate to be soiled if only just a little? Perhaps a new car, the mortgage payment, or the children’s tuition hangs in the balance. What reputation is it we seek to protect when God’s people cry out for justice and we turn away? Did Jesus care about his reputation or his ministry?”

I ripped away, caring not whose feathers I might be ruffling; drawing a line in the sand and daring anyone who cared to cross it. Sadly, Anne Rice chose to cut and run, and for that I am angry. Not at her, but at the rest of us. For no sooner had she made her announcement than the throng of religious zealots descend upon her and ostensibly ripped her to shreds for bailing out on her faith.

A friend of mine, Scott, wrote on his facebook page, “I don’t mean to be harsh toward Christians, but when people give up on the Christian community, I think Christians should start, not by criticizing them, but by listening to them and by looking at themselves.”

Well put Scott, but if you are somehow adverse to being harsh, allow me please to take the hammer from you and continue. There are times we couch our feelings to protect and nurture; and then there are times when only brute honesty will suffice. This episode begs for the latter.

It is my contention that we do the cause of Christianity a disservice if we focus on Anne Rice as being the issue here. Instead what all of us should do is take a step back, examine those reasons for her decision, admit that, however painful it might be, there is some validity to her charges, and then do all we can to ensure that, at least as far as we're concerned, we won't let the corporate cancer that is eating away at the foundations of our faith claim more victims. And make no mistake about it, it IS a cancer!

I remember after the '04 election I was having a conversation with a couple of co-workers, both of whom were Jewish. They couldn't believe Bush had been re-elected and they were outraged at the connection between the religious Right and politics in this country. This was my first exposure to the concerns that non-believers had over the encroaching right-wing ideologues that were speaking on behalf of the faith I held near and dear.

I spent the next half hour explaining to them that as a Christian I too was embarrassed and offended by those people who were speaking on behalf of my faith and claiming a moral superiority. I also told them that not every Christian was a fanatic hell bent on rewriting the Constitution and forcing Christianity on those who didn't believe in it.

You see, I think part of our problem is that we think too much like we're in a box. We suffer from tunnel vision. We don't see what others see; hence we are either taken by surprise by it, or act indignant to it. How could Anne Rice leave us and abandon her faith? How about, How could we have abandoned our moral compass and allowed our faith to be hijacked? See what a little perspective can mean to a discussion?

I think there are a lot more Anne Rice's out there, and a lot more who will never get as far as she did. In other words will never get to know the Lord at all. And mainly because we as a Church, corporately, have chosen to abandon the very principles that Christ stood for and opted for a bunch of slogans, political agendas, and catch phrases that may get a few officials elected and may even overturn a few laws we don't like, but in the end will do more harm than good. And for that I am deeply angered. In fact, I’m pissed!

Anne Rice’s defection from Christianity should serve as a wake up call to all of us. It is time we got up off our collective asses and reclaimed the Church Peter started over 2,000 years ago. We should stop worrying about our good manners and good reputations. We should be as protective of our faith as a business owner is of his merchandise. More so, for our reward is not measured in dollars and cents but in our eternal rest with Him who sent us.

Whenever anyone, anywhere either leaves the faith or decides not to join it and the principle reason is due to the message they get from the modern-day Pharisees who have chosen to speak on our behalf, we are all guilty of driving the bus they’re on out of town. And woe to all of us for allowing that to happen! Do not think for a moment that we will not be called to justify ourselves before God when our time comes. Their souls are our souls!

This is the question we should be asking ourselves. If Christianity were a department store, would we or anyone else want to shop there? Or for that matter would we buy anything there? If the answer to both is not unequivocally “yes” then we must be honest and say, “Houston we have a problem!”

Chasing Gandhi: Understanding the Difference Between Nonviolence and Pacifism.

I have a confession to make. I am far better at talking the talk than I am walking the walk. I have always admired the tremendous courage men like Gandhi and Martin Luther King exhibited in their public and personal lives, while sadly admitting that I could never hold a candle to them. I cannot even imagine what Christ’s final moments on this earth must’ve been like. To come to this stage of one’s life and realize that you are as far removed from your personal heroes as the moon is from the earth is a sobering reality.

Worse, while I have a deep and profound respect for what those men stood for, I also have to confess that I feel more of an affinity for those individuals who more often than not flexed their muscles in response to oppression. Whenever I have seen an injustice – regardless of what it is – my first response has not been to pray for the perpetrator, but rather to lash out at the transgressor and fight for the victim. I feel an almost reflexive need to come to the aid of such people and a strong, intense hatred for those who caused the malady. Out of all the sins of the world, cruelty to those who cannot fend for themselves and poverty anger me the most.

My writings have often reflected this deep sentiment and I have always felt a peculiar and profound calling to continue to bring to light any inequities that scar the Kingdom of God. So-called believers who besmirch the very faith I hold near and dear have earned the bulk of my wrath. In this endeavor I have been unapologetic to say the least.

But of late I have listened and read, with great interest, the words of King and Gandhi in the writings of other Christian men and I feel a sense of bewilderment. It is clear that both King and Gandhi were proponents of nonviolence in their lives. It is equally clear that both were profound men of peace who represented the very best principles of what it means to be a Christian. As such, they have earned the status accorded them.

But I sometimes wonder whether both men may have been as misunderstood as they were admired. There has been a long tradition of nonviolent movements throughout history. The Great Samil Movement of 1919 during Japanese colonial rule was one of the largest nonviolent demonstrations in the twentieth century and resulted in over 7,000 martyrdoms. And of course the most obvious example of nonviolence was the life and ministry of Jesus. But the biggest problem I have with nonviolence is not its resistance to violence but its connection to pacifism. Over the years the two words have somehow become synonymous with symbolizing an almost pathological resistance to any form of aggression whatsoever. At first glance both terms seem somewhat similar in scope, and in deed both share some qualities. But a closer look reveals a staggering distinction. See for yourself.

Pacifism: The belief that disputes between nations should and can be settled peacefully. An opposition to war or violence as a means of resolving disputes. Such opposition is demonstrated by a refusal to participate in military action no matter the provocation.

Nonviolence: A philosophy and strategy for social change that rejects the use of violence. As such, nonviolence is an alternative to passive acceptance of oppression and armed struggle against it. Practitioners of nonviolence may use diverse methods in their campaigns for social change, including critical forms of education and persuasion, civil disobedience and nonviolent direct action, and targeted communication via mass media.

In other words, while proponents of pacifism may employ some of the techniques of nonviolence, proponents of nonviolence can hardly be called pacifists. If anything, they typify the very essence of what it means to be a revolutionary. In fact, the more I learn of Gandhi and King, and for that matter Jesus, the more revolutionary they become for me.

Part of the problem I, and I’m afraid many good-natured Christians, have when delving into this arena is that we tend to focus on the peaceful and loving parts of these men to the exclusion of all else. Yes all three of these men loved their neighbors, and all three felt it their moral duty to give his life for his fellow man. But there has been an almost glossing over by many historians of the very traits that truly defined what each man singularly accomplished.

Jesus’ mocking of the Pharisees, Gandhi’s refusal to acknowledge British sovereignty over India, and King’s admonishment of the Christian Church are as much a part of their stories as the feeding of the four thousand, the hunger strikes, and the march on Selma respectively. It would do violence – no pun intended – to their contributions to humanity to highlight the latter at the expense of the former. In deed if all these men had accomplished were a few good deeds – and in the case of Jesus a few good miracles – I suspect that we would not revere them to the extent that we do. Their collective rantings and rebukings were what ultimately came to define their lives and helped usher in the elements of change we now take for granted: Christianity, an independent India and an awakening of a race and a blind nation. One could no more separate the peaceful elements of their lives from the volatile than to separate oxygen from water. Truth be told, their volatility was what gave their serenity weight and authority. They were no mere pushovers. They were righteous in their indignation, confident that they were justified before God, and in the case of Jesus before the Father.

And so should we. Nonviolence is not a call to lay down one’s arms and roll over. Rather, if anything, it is a call to rise up and make a stand. Temerity must overrule timidness if our lives are to have any meaning before God. We must resist the urge to permit ourselves to be used as doormats and, in the naïve hope that we might persuade those with whom we are diametrically opposed, grant even a semblance of latitude. There is only one correct stance for any of us to have when faced with hypocrisies, bigotry, and outright hatred. We are to call it out, like poison from a wound, and curse it to the ground. Jesus never minced his words when confronted. Why then are we so polite when we find ourselves in similar situations?

We must acknowledge the painful reality that to truly seek a path of nonviolence means we must abandon our pacifist ways, identify who are enemies are, and pursue them with all the vigor of an exploding sun. Each of us has a Jerusalem and a Memphis in his or her life. The only question is whether we will be moving towards that destination or away from it.