God Bless Ethnocentrism: or, why I’m an (ex)patriot

I’ve been reading about zero-sum game theory recently. It’s a term used by mathematicians to describe situations were there are finite and exclusive outcomes. For instance, if two people decide to play poker, one might come out $20 in the hole, in which case the other would leave with an extra $20 of money to spend. The sum of their outcomes, -$20 and +$20, would equal zero. So I’m no mathematician, but I am really interested in how this theory describes much of the world.

In particular, I’m interested in how this applies to that bumper sticker I see every now and then that says “God Bless America.” Now first of all, let me disclaim that I don’t really know how that phrase is intended. If by “God Bless America,” people mean, “God, bless America as well as every other nation in this world,” then I would affirm that statement, although I would say it would be better to just say “God Bless the World” on your bumper-sticker. What I think it means because of the military context the phrase is usually used in, is, “God Bless America in Particular,” or “God Bless America over-against the rest of the world.”

If the people that have this bumper sticker really mean “God Bless America in Particular,” or “God Bless America over-against the rest of the world,” which I think they probably do, then I have some problems with that statement.

First, I think if God is still in the business of blessing nations, then maybe we should infer, by our liberties and our wealth, that we already are blessed. In this case, we shouldn’t be asking for more blessing but rather the wisdom to use our blessings well. In the Bible, divine blessing or election is always as much a responsibility as it is a gift. Thus, Abraham is blessed so that all peoples of the world will be blessed. Israel is brought out of Egypt to be a kingdom of priests with the duty of manifesting holiness to the world.

Second—and this is really what I’m more concerned about—I think that zero-sum theory works on the world stage. The world is finite. The energy sector is dealing with this as they look to other energy sources when oil runs out. In particular I’m interested in what zero-sum theory means in the context of war. Mark Twain has a fascinating short story set in the context of the war on the Philippines. As a congregation is praying for their soldiers who are about to go to war, an unknown man comes into the church, walks to the front, and addresses the church:

Ponder this -- keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.

Then he prays:

O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.

I do have particular views on war, but what I’m more interested in is the idea Twain is imaginatively expressing, namely, that for God to bless one group, especially in the context of war, this blessing occurs over against another group. And war may not be the only context in which zero-sum theory might be important. If the world has only finite resources, this theory may play out in economics as well. The global economy may be a giant game of poker, in which winning means someone else is losing.

I think the call to discipleship is call to transcend national boundaries, and while that may not mean denying our national identity, it does mean that we are concerned with God’s agenda of putting the entire world to rights with the blessing of his justice, peace, and love. As the world becomes increasingly more connected, this may mean that Christ’s call to suffer may have new significance when having means someone else has-not. So God Bless the World.

Competitive Inhibition

So I’ve been thinking about orthodoxy recently. Actually I’ve been thinking about the opposite of orthodoxy, heterodoxy. A blogger-friend recently posted about the need to repress bad theology, and while I agree that bad theology, or heterodoxy, is destructive to people and the church, I’m not sure that silencing them is the best solution.

The problem is that the church tends to value right doctrine over right practice, and when someone challenges the doctrine of the church, the church responds with rather poor practice. Here I’m thinking of John Calvin, who had a tendency of burning his nay-sayers at the stake. Even when we don’t strike up a match at the mention of a questionable doctrine, we often respond by either haranguing with unkind words or by closing them off from the conversation. At worse, we actively work to silence the questionable by disfellowshipping or not allowing their voice to be heard. These overt methods of dealing with what we consider wrong doctrines or ethical stances are problematic because they don’t allow for 1) the possibility of multiple interpretations, and 2) the subjective role of the interpreter.

Alexander Campbell in his plea for unity proposed that churches could unite over the “facts” of faith. For him, these facts would include things like the existence of God, the virgin birth of Jesus, and the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. He considered every other doctrine more subject and therefore a matter of interpretation. Thus, he thought churches could unite around the facts and be graceful to each other concerning the interpretive doctrines. These “facts” that were so important for Campbell are remarkably similar to the “rule of faith” of the church fathers which was later canonized in the Nicene Creed. I think that Campbell is correct that the heart of Christianity is centered around the facts, or the regula fidei of the church fathers. Other doctrines of the church are derivative from these central teachings.

So here’s my proposal. I would like to offer a metaphor for the way we should conceive of church doctrine and how to respond to heterodoxy.

In microbiology, I learned that there are natural bacteria that live on our bodies. They feed on the various oils and substances we excrete from our skin, as well as reside in the gut and consume the food that our bodies don’t use. These bacteria are good for us. The proliferation of these nonharmful bacteria crowd out the bad bacteria. For instance, this is why it is recommended to load up on acidophilus before taking a trip to Mexico; the acidophilus bacteria proliferate and help prevent more harmful bacteria from taking up residence in your gut and producing rather unpleasant effects. Anyhow, this concept of good bacteria preventing the residence of the harmful is called competitive inhibition.

Now for the metaphoric turn. If we conceive of the church as a body (I think that metaphor has been used before) then I think we can also conceive of Campbell’s “facts” as the food of the body. It is from the food of the central teachings that we have life as a church. Our interpretive traditions feed off of this food as well and while they don’t feed us as the central teachings do, they give us a certain odor and help prevent bad teaching from proliferating and possibly harming the body.

Okay, so no metaphor is perfect, but I think this metaphor does have particular use in the case of heterodox interpretations. Rather than silencing or condemning those interpretive stances which we don’t like, we should proliferate the good interpretations in order that the bad don’t have room to grow.

Pax Christi, Part II: Paul’s Anti-Imperial Rhetoric

In my last post on this subject, I proposed that the term “gospel” had inherently political connotations to the first century readers of the Gospel narratives. Now I would like to examine the possibility that Paul similarly had a view of the gospel that profoundly affected his notions of Caesar and the Roman Empire.

In 1 Thessalonians 5:1-3, Paul writes this to the church in Thessalonica:

Now, brothers, about times and dates we do not need to write to you, for you know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While people are saying, "Peace and safety," destruction will come on them suddenly, as labor pains on a pregnant woman, and they will not escape.

From the context of this passage in the rest of the letter, it seems that the church was curious about the end times. What I am particularly interested in, however, is the phrase “peace and security” in this passage. This phrase seems to be one of the hailing cries of the Roman Empire, especially after the reign of Caesar Augustus. This is what Everett Ferguson says about Augustus’ promotion of peace:

There was a great emphasis on peace: his rule ushered in the pax romana. After the wars of the preceding period a genuine sense of gratitude was expressed toward Augustus for the restoration of peace. He promoted this virtue of his reign, given monumental expression in the ara pacis (altar of peace) in Rome…security and safety made possible travel, trade, and renewed economic development and prosperity.

It seems that, at least in Paul’s mind, the peace and security of the proud Roman Empire was ill-spoken. Paul, for whom Jesus is Lord, does not place his security in the hands of an emperor, no matter how powerful. After taking into consideration the account in Acts 17 of the political turmoil caused by Paul in Thessalonica, I think it is plausible to say that Paul’s message that Jesus is Lord was taken as contrary to the Roman state.

However, we all know the text in Romans that speaks about submission to those in authority. The biblical witness makes clear that God intends order in the world, and having government is part of the meting out of social order. I think that the point of contention that Paul would have with government comes precisely where those in authority cross their purposes with God. For the early Christians, the primary controversy with government came when the emperors claimed too much authority for themselves. Caesar cannot be Lord if Christ is Lord, and unfortunately, this assertion of the early Christians cost them their lives.

So what does this mean for us? Well, here’s my take on it. We as Christians should affirm the necessity of government, but always maintain a critical stance towards it. Our position is not to endorse candidates, parties, or political systems, but rather to prophetically call the existing governments to fulfill their God-given directive to create and maintain order and justice in the world. I think that means in a democratic system of government that we should vote for whom we believe most consistent with God’s order, but that when these politicians are put in place they will still need to be critiqued by God’s standards. Christians should thus not expect a particular system or party to solve the world’s problems. I think, on the contrary, Christians should be the ones who are the leaders of justice and order. So for instance, when Lyndon Johnson told Martin Luther King, Jr., that he was unable to motivate Washington to create a voting rights act, King led a march from Selma to Montgomery, which led only five months later to a voting rights act.

May we, in such spirit, lead our government towards greater and greater manifestations of justice.

Pax Christi: Worship the Baby, Not the Empire

They say politics and religion make strange bedfellows. While I certainly agree that religious governments—like, say, the ones we are having trouble with in the Middle East—are problematic, I think our enlightenment notions of religion being a private matter and politics a public matter should be reexamined in the light of the gospels. In fact, a reflection on the birth narrative might be a departure point with which we might think about what the gospel(s) have to say about the politics of Jesus.

In Luke 2 we read the story of the birth and the accompanying passages, which I can’t help but read with the voice of Linus from Charlie Brown’s Christmas. We all know the story: the census, the birth, the manger, and after Jesus was born, the angel appearing to shepherds in the countryside, telling them, “I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people,” which is the birth of Christ, the Lord. Afterwards a heavenly host breaks out in song, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."

What interests me here is the amazing connection this story has with the political world of Mary, Joseph, and the baby. It is not hard to imagine, first of all, the alarms that would ring in the head of a Jew when he heard of the census. Kings, even pagan ones, were set in place by God, and God specifically forbids the use of a census by which a king might add up his power. Further, I think the use of the word gospel (often translated good news) connotes an overtly political meaning. This decree from Asia Minor in 9 B.C. shows just what the rest of the Roman world thought of when they heard the word gospel:

It is a day which we may justly count as equivalent to the beginning of everything—if not in itself and in its own nature, at any rate in the benefits it brings—inasmuch as it has restored the shape of everything that was failing and turning into misfortune, and has given a new look to the Universe at a time when it would gladly have welcomed destruction if Caesar had not been born to be the common blessing of all men...Whereas the Providence which has ordered the whole of our life, showing concern and zeal, has ordained the most perfect consummation for human life by giving to it Augustus, by filling him with virtue for doing the work of a benefactor among men, and by sending in him, as it were, a savior for us and those who come after us, to make war to cease, to create order everywhere...and whereas the birthday of the God [Augustus] was the beginning for the world of the glad tidings[a translation of the same word for gospel] that have come to men through him.

Thus, to proclaim a gospel other than Caesar flies in the face of Roman power. In a world where Caesar is savior, Rome is the order, and Pax Romana is hailed, heralding the birth of this child as savior, Lord, and bringer of peace would be subversive, if not downright rebellion. Pax Romana was indeed a great accomplishment of the Romans. In fact, the Roman Empire was great, that is, as long as you weren’t one of the 25-30% of the population who were in slavery, and as long as you weren’t a woman, and as long as you were not subject to the oppressive tax rates, such as those levied upon the Jews. It seems that the Pax Romana served the elite patricians, rather than the vast majority of the empire. With this in mind, we might read Mary’s Magnificat as a prophetic announcement of what the baby in her belly will do:
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.

Now, what do we do with all this political subversiveness of Jesus? I’m not sure, but I do have a few ideas. I think first of all that we balance it with the other ideas in Scripture that have to do with God instituting rulers. Thus, we must conclude that there is a place for governing authorities even when what they are doing is contrary to the kingdom of God. Second, I think it is okay when the subversive gospel that Christians preach comes at odds with what the government says. I know many of you will disagree with me here, but I think Scripture unequivocally calls for the good treatment of aliens and foreigners in the land (regardless of legitimacy). Perhaps this is a case in which the borders of God’s kingdom must be larger than the borders of the American Empire. Again, maybe being proclaiming the kingdom means disclaiming what the government says about abortion. Maybe it means that in a world where democracy has replaced Caesar as the “common blessing of all men,” we should remain at least skeptical. Jesus is Lord, not democracy. Again, maybe we should be subversive about economics in the kingdom of God. After all, while capitalism might be better than the other economic systems today, it seems that this system makes the rich richer and the poor poorer. Something might be inequitable with this system. The politics of the kingdom of God seemed to have something to say about economic equity; it seems that the early church, at least, thought it did. Capitalism is not Lord, Jesus is. I’ll, be honest, this reading of the gospel kind of scares me. I grew up with the whole Christianity-is-about-going-to-heaven teaching, and while the birth of Jesus certainly meant more than a political coup, I don’t think it was less than one. The working out of the gospel of Jesus has endless ramifications to how we live and breathe in all our spheres of life, political, economic, physical, social, and spiritual. I think though, that the gospel begins with one idea: we worship the baby, not the empire.

A Modest Counter-Proposal, Part II: the Economics of (re)Birth

Thomas Malthus was an English political economist who lived from 1766-1834. He is famous for his Principle of Population, which, though nuanced, still remains fundamentally true today. In his “Essay on the Principle of Population,” he says this:
The power of population is so superior to the power of the earth to produce subsistence for man, that premature death must in some shape or other visit the human race. The vices of mankind are active and able ministers of depopulation. They are the precursors in the great army of destruction, and often finish the dreadful work themselves. But should they fail in this war of extermination, sickly seasons, epidemics, pestilence, and plague advance in terrific array, and sweep off their thousands and tens of thousands. Should success be still incomplete, gigantic inevitable famine stalks in the rear, and with one mighty blow levels the population with the food of the world.

So basically, he is saying that since the sex drive in humans remains constant over the population, people will continue to reproduce at about the same rate as they always have (this was before good birth control options which are utilized in more wealthy countries today). This, paired with the fact of an earth with abundant but still finite resources, means that human population grows a basically constant rate until disease or famine balances out the population.

Next, I want to look at a more recent economist with whom you might be more familiar. Steven Levitt is the coauthor of Freakonomics and the paper, “The Impact of Legalized Abortion on Crime,” and in both he asserts that the drop in the crime rates of the 1990’s can be traced back to Roe v. Wade. In other words, because many of the women whose children would be predisposed to criminal lives chose to have abortions, the crime rate twenty years later was less than expected. It’s not a hypothesis I want to agree with, but Levitt makes a pretty strong case for it, and in his eyes at least, there has not been a better alternative theory for the crime drop.
Now, the question for Christians is what to do with these economic hypotheses. I think Malthus is undeniably correct in his fundamental assertion. While post-industrial economies have more flexibility in dealing with agricultural famine (as Malthus’s critics have pointed out), the earth is indeed finite, and can only sustain so many people. In Malthus’s view, this makes famine and plague a positive force of nature which counters overpopulation. In fact, he argued that England should not help the poor, but rather let the conditions that accompany poverty, such as malnutrition, starvation, and disease, naturally rid England of the problem these poor pose on their economy. In the same way, it would be easy to argue that Levitt’s hypothesis makes the case that abortion improves society by reducing crime. Whether or not we agree in the validity of these hypotheses, these are in the cultural milieu, and as believers in the sanctity of life, we as Christians must stand against these deathly ideas.

I would like to call this a Pro-Life ethic, but I mean this in a much deeper way than it is used by the right-wing constituency. Pro-Life must go beyond a simple definition of life as the unity of a sperm and egg; rather, life is found in the abundant living that Jesus called for. Being for life means being against all threats of life, abortion and beyond. This means asking serious questions: Can the threat to life that is war ever be called just? Does legislating against abortion solve the deeper problems of rape, poverty, familial strife, and low-self esteem that are so prevalent in the pre-pregnant girls? Can Christians let the poor die in their hunger and disease in order to balance the effects of overpopulation? Or, more poignantly, can the world sustain the life-style that we afford in America?

Here is where we must be against the pro-choice position. In our culture we are inundated with choice. In fact, we pride ourselves on the freedom to choose. Choices are a function of wealth. My fear is that we are choosing ourselves to hell. Perhaps if we truly want to be pro-life, we must limit our choices afforded by our wealth. Perhaps we must soberly, intentionally, and prayerfully limit our wealth by living more simply and sharing our power of choice with those who have no choice. And perhaps we can start by choosing to not have children.

A Modest Counter-Proposal: Christian Reproductive Ethics in a Global Society

Here are two global issues that I often think about: overpopulation and poverty. Jonathan Swift wrote a famous piece that I think applies to these issues today. In his darkly sardonic “A Modest Proposal,” he asserts that the extreme hunger caused by the Irish potato famine can be alleviated by a simple solution. Eating babies. It’s really common sense—there is not enough food for the already hungry population of Irish, so eating their babies eliminates the problem of added mouths to feed as well as providing a nutritious meal to the existing population.

Now, if anything, our contemporary situation is far worse to the Irish famine. With half of the globe living under two dollars a day (World Bank statistic), poverty and hunger are both dire and immediate problems. A projected global population upwards of 7.9 billion people by 2050 (UN statistic) can only exacerbate the hunger problem. Let’s face it, while Swift’s proposal may have helped the Irish, it is not sufficient to improve our situation—besides the fact that it is neither desirable nor pragmatic to eat babies (waiting nine months for 8 pounds of food is foolish).

Granted, the problems of global overpopulation and poverty are multifaceted. Family planning, education, prophylactics, and sustainable economics should all be utilized to address the situation. However, I would like to propose another arm in the fight against our crises. Christians should not bear children. I think there are numerous reasons why this is the most ethical response to our global situation. 1) The globe is already crowded enough, and is becoming more so as developing countries struggle with overpopulation. 2) Having children is expensive, and the money spent on maternal healthcare, child health, and the various economic consequences of children can be better spent in the fight against economic and health disparity. If Christians want children, adoption rather than childbearing is a viable option that does not contribute to global overpopulation and can ease the situation of a child born into poverty.