"Isn't there anybody who can tell me what Christmas is all about?"

So I'm driving down the road when I see this billboard for a local church (one of the big ones, obviously. Billboards cost at the minimum 5 figures). It reads: "Christmas at __________." A _________ tradition." (let the reader understand).

And I'm not picking on this church, just describing. One one end of the billboard, arranged to look like a snapshot, is a picture of the smiling pastor. The other side looks like an out of focus picture of a Christmas tree, heavy on the lights (I didn't have time to stop and stare, this is just my impression.) My first question was: is this what Christmas is all about? Smiling pastor and fuzzy lights? No Jesus? No Mary and Joseph, star or donkeys, magi or manger? (And ask yourself some day why even the most devoutly anti-Catholic Protestants put up manger scenes in their churches. But I digress....) No mention at all about sin, redemption, salvation, no explanation about why this child was "Our Savior"?

That was the seasonal question, of course. The other question that popped unbidden (well, almost) into my head was: why do churches advertise?

Seriously. Advertising is to sell a product. Billboards are expensive. There must be some idea of a return on that kind of investment. And why advertise your Christmas as a local tradition? Do traditions have to be advertised to be traditions? What product is being sold here? Not even the manger and the baby and the Magi: just a man's smiling head and some soft-focus lights.

Why do churches advertise? What business are they in?

A voice crying in the wilderness

Well, either Blogger is no longer bloggered, or I'm having new problems with the computer at home.

This is the first time I've been able to get into Blogger today. Obviously, I'm not at home. Whether any new posts re: Advent and other issues will be forthcoming remains to be seen.

In the meantime, something left over from yesterday (Advent is about setting the prisoner free, right?):


WaPo

A previously undisclosed Pentagon report concluded that the three terrorism suspects held at a brig in South Carolina were subjected to months of isolation, and it warned that their "unique" solitary confinement could be viewed as violating U.S. detention standards.

According to a summary of the 2004 report obtained by The Washington Post, interrogators attempted to deprive one detainee, Ali Saleh Kahlah al-Marri, a Qatari citizen and former student in Peoria, Ill., of sleep and religious comfort by taking away his Koran, warm food, mattresses and pillow as part of an interrogation plan approved by the high-level Joint Forces Command.

Interrogators also prevented the International Committee of the Red Cross from visiting at least one detainee, according to the report, which noted evidence of other unspecified, unauthorized interrogation techniques.

Note, first, the "unspecified, unauthorized interrogation techniques." That is the classic loophole large enough to drive a truck through. Note, too, the fact that this treatment was authorized by Joint Forces Command.

Suddenly Janis Karpinski is not standing alone when she claims she had documents from Rumsfeld authorizing torture in Abu Ghraib.

I will tell you, I understand the kind of chutzpah lawyers are expected to show on behalf of their clients, but this stuns even me:

Prosecutors asked the judge to quash the subpoenas, arguing that Padilla's attorneys are making "meritless" and "sensationalist" claims to turn the court's attention away from his alleged misconduct. In previous filings, the government decried the "absurdity of Padilla's assertion" that he was abused, noting that the government was "conscientious enough to tend to his toothache."

The Times now has their article behind a "Select" firewall, but the incident referred to is the now infamous videotape of Mr. Padilla being chained, blindfolded, and his ears covered, to move him from his cell to a dentist's chair for a root canal. A procedure he presumably underwent with those chains, headphones, and blindfold firmly in place.

Can you imagine more horrific treatment?

I'm reading this book right now, John Mortimer's latest in his "Rumpole" series. Interesting how much it tracks the Padilla case: an innocent man, albeit not a British citizen, is arrested on unspecified charges, and Rumpole must find a way to get him charged with a criminal offense so he can be brought to trial. Absent a Supreme Court, of course, another way must be found. But while Mortimer is deadly serious about the suspension of the rule of law in England, he uses a light touch as he does in all the Rumpole stories. Truth is much stranger, and grimmer, than fiction. Indeed, reading the latest Rumpole, all I can say is: "Don't you wish real life was like this?"

Or just more like it used to be?

Still doing a heckuva job!

Houston Chronicle

A federal judge lambasted the Bush administration Wednesday for failing to obey orders to restore housing assistance to thousands of evacuees from Hurricanes Katrina and Rita in Texas.

"Let me make this clear," U.S. District Judge Richard J. Leon told lawyers for the Federal Emergency Management Agency. "Tell FEMA that I'm expecting them to get going on this — like immediately."

Storm evacuees in Houston and elsewhere sued the agency last summer, complaining that their federal rental assistance payments were cut off without adequate notice or a reasonable way to appeal the decision. Many of the evacuees received conflicting information in correspondence and telephone conversations with FEMA, and others still have no idea why their aid was denied.

Leon, who ordered FEMA to pay up two weeks ago, said he's not buying the agency's excuses for why it has done nothing to comply with his order. He also accused FEMA of misrepresenting his order in filings to the U.S. District Court of Appeals, a higher court that is considering the administration's request to block Leon's order until it can be appealed. The appeals court's decision is expected next week, but in the meantime, Leon said, his ruling stands.

And three cheers for Houston Mayor Bill White (who worked in the Clinton Administration, btw):

...Leon said if the agency could not simply "cut and paste" information from the evacuees' electronic files into letters to the evacuees, it should do the work manually. He calculated that 10 FEMA employees, perhaps working overtime, could write 5,400 letters in say, two weeks — the exact amount of time that has passed since he signed his order.

"We're not putting a man on the moon here. ... I'm not looking for a doctoral dissertation," the judge said. "I'm looking for a couple of paragraphs in plain English."

Leon said that by Monday's hearing, he expects FEMA to have called Houston and other Texas cities to see if they will accept the federal funds and distribute them to the evacuees.

Michael Kirkpatrick, an attorney for the Association of Community Organizations for Reform Now, which sued FEMA on behalf of the evacuees, said Mayor Bill White already has agreed to do whatever is necessary to help the evacuees collect their money.

By the way, there's a need to hurry, and to not forget:

Timing is critical, Leon said, because the federal housing assistance program expires at the end of February unless Congress or President Bush takes action to extend it.

Maybe this is the time to bring up the gospel reading for the 3rd Sunday of Advent:

Luke 3:7-18 -

John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our ancestor'; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire."

And the crowds asked him, "What then should we do?" In reply he said to them, "Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise." Even tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, "Teacher, what should we do?" He said to them, "Collect no more than the amount
prescribed for you." Soldiers also asked him, "And we, what should we do?" He said to them, "Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages."

As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, "I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire."

So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.

"This is not my beautiful house! This is not my beautiful wife!"

How did I get here?

Standing with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Bush said he and the nation's top military commanders had "a very candid and fruitful discussion about how to secure this country and about how to win a war that we now find ourselves in."

Bush made it clear that "there has been a lot of violence in Iraq. The violence has been horrific."

Letting the days go by....

It Ain't Necessarily So

Here we go again:

Sometime around the beginning of the Common Era, a nice Jewish girl comes to her fiancé with a problem. She is pregnant; he is not the father. The groom-to-be is understandably enraged. In his world, almost nothing brings more shame on a man and his family than a broken promise of virginity. Her explanation, that the baby was conceived by God, must have sounded implausible, desperate, even insane. On reflection, though, the man, who is profoundly decent—"righteous," as the story goes—decides that he cannot bear to inflict upon the girl the rare (but wholly legal) punishment for such crimes, which is stoning. And so he resolves to handle the matter in his own way. He will "divorce her quietly."

If the story ended there, it would be an ordinary drama about a family in crisis, one familiar in many times and many places. But this story was only beginning. The righteous man, Joseph, goes to sleep and receives a visit from an angel. "Joseph, son of David," the angel says, "do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son and you are to give him the name Jesus for he will save his people from their sins." Like all good Jews who had received visits from God or angels before him—Abraham, Moses—Joseph does as he is told. The baby is born in Bethlehem; his human parents name him Jesus.

Well, except the story doesn't even start there. The article goes on to imply, for example, that the values Matthew's version of the Nativity story supposedly presents (we'll come to that) are peculiarly Jewish:

It all began with the habits and culture of Judaism. The emphasis on family, on sexual morality, on caring for one's kith and kin—all were (and are) sacred Jewish traditions, and the transmission of those mores from a relative backwater of the Roman Empire in the first years of the Common Era to our own time is the unlikely result of Mary and Joseph's parenting, the disciples' failed apocalyptic hopes and, ultimately, the early Christians' search for a way to survive once they realized the Second Coming was not as imminent as they first believed.

The habits and culture of early Judaism (which, to avoid anachronism, didn't really exist in a way we could label "Judaism" until several decades after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 CE) certainly influenced Christianity. But those mores were not fundamentally different from the "family values" of the Romans. At least not in the matters of caring for kith and kin. Other societies may have cared for their own differently, but care for them they certainly did. Who, after all, would tolerate a society which didn't?

For example:

According to Deuteronomy, a man who violated a virgin had to pay a fine of 50 silver shekels and marry the woman in question; an unmarried woman who willfully had sex with a man other than her fiancé could be put to death. In ancient Israel, this value was probably a matter of pragmatism more than theology; it assured men who lived in a culture that prized family above all that their children were their own.

Well, maybe. But in the Middle Ages in Europe, the theory was a woman could not conceive unless she had an orgasm, and an orgasm was impossible in rape, therefore rape could never produce a distaff heir. QED. Bloodlines and property rights were paramount, and thus did men assure themselves all the children at the table were theirs. And US family law (in Texas, and I'm fairly sure this is uniform in all 50 states now) assumes the husband of the wife is the father of the children. There's a simple reason for this: we know who the mother is (the birth can be witnessed). The conception, however, is hidden. There have always been problems assuring who the child's father is, and there will always be legal "fictions" to settle the question. It's pragmatic, but it's not peculiarly Jewish. One must, in other words, be careful about letting presumptions create conclusions. [insert language from "in search of paul" here regarding Roman family. So I think the distinctions between Roman and Jewish practice are more than a bit overwrought in this article.

Which is not unusual, and not a slam on Newsweek: it's a popular magazine, not a scholarly publication. Besides, it gives me an excuse to discuss the topic.

First, of course, there's no reason to believe this story happened at all. Not that Jesus wasn't born (didn't we settle that in the 19th century?), but that Matthew's story is any more historical than Luke's (and the two are completely incompatible). But the same questions you may have had as a child ("Huh? Daddy, why does Joseph want to set aside his marriage to Mary?") persist even when you understand what "adultery"means. And filling in those blanks with an "emphasis...on sexual morality" is dangerously anachronistic (not to mention cross-cultural) unless you know what kind of sexual morality you're talking about.

If you take this story as in any way "real," (rather than Matthew's attempt to place Jesus as Messiah within Hebraic tradition and prophecy), you end up with the Raymond Brown attempts (I use the good Fr. metaphorically, and not caustically) to evaluate Galilean v. Judean marriage customs and the like (apparently it was the not unusual in Judea for a man to have "relations" with his betrothed before the marriage was formalized, but that was "not done" in Galilee. So which condition prevailed on Mary and Joseph?). Why, though, does Matthew raise the question of adultery at all? Luke doesn't raise it, and he includes an immaculate conception in his story.

As far as we can tell, Galilean custom was more strict than Judean on sexual relations for a couple between the initial engagement, which established a legal right, and the final ceremony, which established a common home. [Let me note this custom of legal right before common home prevailed into the 19th century in Britain in some form, as the ending of an engagement could be a breach of promise action, based on contract law.] But even in Galilee, villagers would have presumed that Mary's pregnancy came not from fornication or adultery, but from a slightly ahead-of-time marital consummation. Apart from Mary, only Joseph knew whether that could have been the explanation. Note, by the way, that, with adultery only affected
a husband's rights, Mary could not have committed adultery unless Joseph already had marriage rights over her.

Jon Dominic Crossan and Jonathan L. Reed, Excavating Jesus (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 2001), p. 79. (Most of what follows, except for parenthetical comments, is drawn almost directly from this book.)

So, as Crossan and Reed ask, why did Matthew tell the story this way?

Since they were already officially engaged, pregnancy, even if not exactly proper bfeore Mary's move from her father's to her husband's home, would make nobody save Joseph suspect adultery. Eyebrows might raise and tongues might wag, but little else would happen, and it certainly would not make Jesus' conception adulterous....And even if he claimed it, he might not be believed. Around the year 200 C.E., for example, the Jewish legal codification in the Mishnah recorded the following debate: "If a man says, 'This my son is a bastard,' he may not be believed. Even if they both said of the unborn child in her womb, 'It is a bastard,' they may not e believed. R. Judah says: They may be believed." (Quiddushin 4:8)

Back to the law today; no man can deny paternity of a child born during marriage unless there is a blood test proving he is not the father. I actually had a case like this, where the wife was pregnant by her boyfriend during a pending divorce (yes, it had been pending that long). No one disagreed that the child was the boyfriend's, and the father of the child wanted to raise it as his. But the law said the child was the husband's, until proven otherwise, and denial of paternity by the husband and even the mother/wife, was not enough. These things last a long time, and for good reason: parentless children have no one to speak for them, or care for them. So why does Matthew do this? The explanation Crossan comes up with involves the story of Moses. Not the story in Exodus, but the story in Josephus' Jewish Antiquities and Pseudo-Philo's Biblical Antiquities. Folk tales, in other words, about the birth of Moses. You know, the kind of thing Hollywood does when it wants to tell the story of, oh, say, the birth of Jesus.

That there are parallels to the nativity stories in scripture is not new, of course. Luke's story of childless Elizabeth recalls at least 4 stories: Genesis 16:7-16; Genesis 18:1-15; Judes 13:3-24; and 1 Samuel 1:1-20. Matthew works in one of Josephus's stories about Moses' birth with the aftermath of Jesus' birth: the Massacre of the Innocents. According to Josephus, the birth of a leader of the enslaved Jews was predicted and Pharoah ordered all male children born to the Israelites around the time predicted, thrown into the river. (You can see how these stories embellish on the scriptural ones, and pick up details for verisimilitude.) Now it gets more interesting.

In Exodus, the parents of Moses marry after Pharoah decrees all male Israelite children should be killed. Why marry after that decree, though? (Remember, this is pre-14th century Europe; marrying for love is an anachronism, except in Hollywood movies.) The folk literature explained that the marriage occured before the decree, and Jochebed is already pregnant when it is made (note the parallels in Matthew again: Herod makes his decree after the birth of Jesus, not before, though the Magi knew of the birth before it happened). Josephus records that God appeared to Moses' father in a dream and reassured him of Moses' fate: "This child...shall indeed be yours; he shall escape those who are watching to destroy him, and...he shall deliver the Hebrew race from their bondage in Egypt, and be remembered...even by alien nations." (quoted in Crossan, p. 83).

In another version, recorded by Pseudo-Philo, Moses' sister Miriam has a dream which foretells the greatness of Moses. Other versions in later texts (which may be earlier in tradition) have Jochebed and Amram divorced and convinced to marry again because of this dream. So there's a fairly rich amount of literature here for Matthew to draw on. And he does so in order to establish the connections, both scriptural and in the popular mind, between Jesus and Moses (one more link, from many: Jesus gives his sermon "on the mount" in Matthew, as Moses came down from Sinai with the law. In Luke, Jesus "looks up" at his disciples when he begins that sermon.)

So, does Matthew record a story about a family in crisis? From our point of view, yes, yes he does. But from Matthew's point of view? The crisis, more likely, was in the community of believers he wrote for, struggling to establish its identity in first century Palestine. Which is interesting if for no other reason than that, the more things change, the more they remain the same.

What does Advent get us ready for?

So, I got into this church discussion with Mahanoy at Street Prophets; none of it really new, I suppose, but interesting enough I wanted to bring it over here. His original post is here. This is my comment, Mahanoy's response, and my answer:

I haven't read this from Tillich, so I'm grateful for the reference. I'll have to look it up.

I'd come to much the same conclusion myself, on separate grounds: ecclesiological grounds, actually. In brief, the culture once supported Protestantism (think Calvin running a city in Switzerland, or Milton working for Cromwell's government, or even the Puritans running New England and banning Christmas, among other things).

I don't quite agree with you that 'evangelical Christianity' is the third way, btw. That's just Protestantism wed to the enterpreunerial culture of late 20th century America. It's already starting to come apart as it doesn't meet the needs either of parishioners or of the changing world.

But back to the point (if I can): all of what you quote there I would say is simply sociology (and I've discussed it at length elsewhere, though I'm too busy to look up the links just now). The real issue is the identity of the church: having once identified itself with the "public square," and now being pushed out of that square (just as RC was by the Reformation), the church naturally either acquiesces, or fights futilely, the rising wall of separation that began to be built in earnest by Justice Douglas only 40 years ago.

Now church has no "place" except as yet another option among options in our culture. The "growing churches" more and more resemble TV shows or dinner theater, which is no accident: Protestantism knows nothing so well as how to ape the culture. But it is no longer a pillar of the culture, just an appendage.

The real question is not: "Is there a third way?", but: where to now? I think the only alternative is to go "counter-cultural" (how sixties of me!) which means abandoning the Constantinian model like the fossil it is, and moving (spiritually, if not phyiscally) back to the desert with the 4th century monks.

That time, IMHO, has come 'round again.

Post-Constantian [sic] Era

We're there - we've been there for about 30 years, if not more. I completely agree with you there. But I disagree about the need to "return to the desert." Completely disagree, in fact. If anything, the church needs to be more involved in the world in all its ugliness and brokenness and suffering. The church still has a word to proclaim. I agree with Melanchthon that the church is constituted by its proclamation and its celebration of the sacraments. The church exists, not for itself, but for others. It is called to proclaim the gospel in word and deed, and that means involvement in the public square. There are many ways of proclaiming the gospel, of course, and I'm not advocating a militant evangelism (far from it - that's the very last thing the church should be doing, in my opinion). And the church shouldn't give a damn if it's growing or not - that's not the point. The point is proclaiming the gospel. If the church grows, that's great. If not, that's fine too. We made a fundamental and perhaps fatal mistake when we started equating faithful ministry with more people in the pews. But the church has to proclaim the gospel to the world and be the body of Christ in the world - otherwise its just another civic organization.

I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use. - Galileo

by Mahanoy

I would have disagreed with myself only a few years ago. Took me a long time to recognize the wisdom of the Desert Fathers, because retreat to the desert is not retreat from the world, although it's hard to see that without first accepting that it isn't.

Full immersion in the world can end up with Ted Haggard and James Dobson and Pat Robertson preaching on TV while operating a diamond mine. That's one extreme which a retreat to the desert corrects.

I don't advocate this as an absolute stance, in other words. I don't mean the only place for the church is in the wilderness. But John went there because people needed to leave the city to hear God's word. Jesus went there because John was of God. Jesus went back to the cities, but was never part of them. He walked where he wanted to, ate what he wanted to (his disciples gleaning the wheat), ate with whom he wanted to ("Do you see this woman?"), and generally taught in ways that turned all our expectations upside down. And there is a strong case to be made that Jesus' preparation for that ministry, a ministry in the world but not of the world, began in the desert.

The usual translation is 'wilderness.'

So when I say withdraw, I don't mean as a permanent condition, world without end, amen. I mean as a recognition that Protestantism is dead, that it was part of the culture of the world but is so no longer, and God is doing a new thing, and we need to go out to the wilderness where God is making straight paths, so we can see it coming.

When we are ready, we can return to the city. When we are ready, we can bring back what we have found in the wilderness. There is a pattern here, dare I say a tradition?

by Rmj

On that business of Christianity and culture, a few more notes. first, the "War on Christmas, which makes Mr. Eskow particularly eloquent this morning:

Here's your idea of martyrdom: Some business people asked their staff to say "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas." You heard about it. And that made you feel bad.

As trials and tribulations go, it beats getting stoned to death like St. Stephen. These businesses are only trying to be considerate toward the feelings of others, but the airwaves are ringing with your howls of anguish.

The truth is you cynical hacks (yeah, you, O'Reilly and Gibson) are exploiting faith, getting political and financial mileage out of a faith you claim to follow. Yet I must admit you guys look genuinely aggrieved - even as your checks keep clearing the bank.

Even rich ministers like Jerry Falwell , the kind who like to bellyache about secular self-indulgence, want the whole country to be organized around their emotional needs.

Tell me: How is this "Happy Holidays" business making you suffer, exactly? Do you depend on the greeters at Wal-Mart for your theological guidance? Does the absence of the Savior's name in the Sears catalog leave you spiritually adrift in a hostile cosmos?

Nah. You're just falling back on the worst kind of Me-Generation, touchy-feely, self-pitying behavior. You're complaining because it makes you uncomfortable. It's Christian Dominionism for the "feel good" crowd.

Whatever happened to good old-fashioned stoicism?

And let's see - what else has got you o'riled? What's the latest tragedy? Did some Town Council in Connecticut take the Nativity scene out of that folksy little gazebo in the plaza?

Let's all sing together: "Feelings/nothing more than feelings ..."

St. Peter was crucified upside down, and Polycarp was stabbed to death. You didn't hear them complaining. But you guys live in wealth and privilege under the most powerful nation in history, and yet with all your political influence you can't stop mewling like kittens.

And if it isn't about my feelings, it's about my need for power. Then, the latest in "Christian video-gaming," introduced by Hecate, in comments at Eschaton:

I predict the Left Behind Game will be a huge seller. Kill a non-believer and then say a prayer. Yeah! God gives you more points! It's as if everything that's wrong with our culture has been distilled down into one video game. And it will make its creators rich. But then, I repeat myself.
Hecate, Runnymeade Conspirator

That was in reference to this game:

In Left Behind, set in perfectly apocalyptic New York City, the Antichrist is personified by fictional Romanian Nicolae Carpathia, secretary-general of the United Nations and a People magazine "Sexiest Man Alive."

Players can choose to join the Antichrist's team, but of course they can never win on Carpathia's side. The enemy team includes fictional rock stars and folks with Muslim-sounding names, while the righteous include gospel singers, missionaries, healers and medics. Every character comes with a life story.

When asked about the Arab and Muslim-sounding names, Frichner said the game does not endorse prejudice. But "Muslims are not believers in Jesus Christ" -- and thus can't be on Christ's side in the game.

"That is so obvious," he said.

Left Behind is a real-time strategy and adventure game. Players don't role-play like in Grand Theft Auto -- it's more like the board game Risk than Clue.

Part of the "action" of the game requires the player to convert non-Christians, or to kill them. But it's okay, because it's actually a non-violent game, and if it is violent, it's all for a good cause:

Left Behind Games' president, Jeffrey Frichner, says the game actually is pacifist because players lose "spirit points" every time they gun down nonbelievers rather than convert them. They can earn spirit points again by having their character pray.

"You are fighting a defensive battle in the game," Frichner, whose previous company produced Bible software, said of combatting the Antichrist. "You are a sort of a freedom fighter."

Frankly, if these two examples don't represent the end of Protestantism, its eschaton, that is, certainly not its telos, they should. The only valid response to this kind of "Christianity" is a retreat to the desert, because a Christianity that produces this vision of the world is so co-opted by the world it needs a fresh slate to start over with, and a spiritual examination the likes of which would make even Ted Haggard blanch.

P.P.S.

MP says:

A serious question, rmj. Wouldn't a menorah be completely acceptable in any Christian festivity and, actually, more relevant to the nativity event than a north European fir tree? And on a practical level a symbolic burning bush is much safer than the fire hazard that is a dried out shrub after four weeks in a centrally heated environment.

And he is, of course, right (he is, after all, the MP!) So to explain more thoroughly where I'm coming from with this, two posts from last year about the observance of Christmas: "So, where did Christmas come from?", and "Can Somebody Please Tell Me What Christmas Is All About?".

Short answer: Christmas has always been about two things at once: public revelry, and personal piety. The roots here are actually in the Puritan movement in Jollye Olde Englande, so it's not entirely American. But the Puritans here wanted to purge the season of its public displays and licentiousness by suppressing Christmas altogether. The other problem with Christmas was it was, well..."Papist." The Puritans recognized what we've forgotten: it was Roman Catholic observance, the "Christ Mass." We've long since split off the secular meaning (holly, trees, mistletoe, Santa Claus, gifts) from the religious one. But we've never quite reconciled that split, and so we get "controversies" like this one, which are really, as I said, a matter of poor communication, not of a "war on Christmas."

Which is one more reason I despise the FoxNews driven meme about that so-called "war."

But I'm fine with the public celebrations of the world's Christmas. As a Christian, I consider it a gift especially to a world devoted to commerce and industrialization, a world determined not to learn the most important lesson of Romanticism's reaction to the Industrial Revolution. It's a preservation, albeit a bare vestige, of a holiday spirit that used to pervade human life. We call the period in Europe between the Roman Empire and the Renaissance "the Dark Ages," but it was truly a time of joy and festivities the like of which have long since passed away. We are the ones living in the "Dark Ages" today, plodding the dreary round of the years keeping our nose ever to the grindstone until we are pushed out in retirement and left to fend for ourselves while the world races madly on. Our work year is punctuated only briefly by holidays, and that begrudgingly. Even Christmas is no longer the sacred day off it used to be. Back when Houston emptied out in the threat of Rita, I remembered what Christmas used to be like: no one on the streets, all traffic gone, no stores open. It was lovely.

We simply don't do that anymore. So any chance to half-do it at all, is a chance worth having. As for the religious observance, well, that's for the religious, isn't it? I'll be in church on Christmas Day. But that doesn't mean everybody has to be. Hopefully, they'll just be enjoying a season when we at least try to appeal to the public angels, at least, of our better nature.

"The law is a (Christmas) ass"

O Christmas tree...

To be honest, to me Christmas trees are about as "Christian" as this guy:



So I'm not really impressed with this decision, or the complaint:

All nine Christmas trees have been removed from the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport instead of adding a giant Jewish menorah to the holiday display as a rabbi had requested.

Maintenance workers boxed up the trees during the graveyard shift early Saturday, when airport bosses believed few people would notice.

"We decided to take the trees down because we didn't want to be exclusive," said airport spokeswoman Terri-Ann Betancourt. "We're trying to be thoughtful and respectful, and will review policies after the first of the year."

Rabbi Elazar Bogomilsky, who made his request weeks ago, said he was appalled by the decision. He had hired a lawyer and threatened to sue if the Port of Seattle didn't add the menorah next to the trees, which had been festooned with red ribbons and bows.

"Everyone should have their spirit of the holiday. For many people the trees are the spirit of the holidays, and adding a menorah adds light to the season," said Bogomilsky, who works in Seattle at the regional headquarters for Chabad Lubavitch, a Jewish education foundation.

Not sure that spirit is spread by litigation, I must say.

On the other hand, there's nothing particulary Jewish about a Christmas tree, either. Or Buddhist, Muslim, Hindu, or Sikh. So there's a point to be made here, somewhere.

I just don't think anyone has made it.

Wonder if a Homer Santa is ecumenical?



P.S.

Well, follow the link above now, you'll get this story:

Christmas trees are going back up at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.

The rabbi has assured the Port of Seattle commission that his group had no plans to sue, and he has offered an electric menorrah to add to the seasonal display. Sadly, this entire affair did provoke some animosity:

The rabbi had received "all kinds of calls and emails," many of them "odious," Grad said, adding he was "trying to figure out how this is consistent with the spirit of Christmas."

And clearly the whole thing was the kind of problem most problems are: a matter of miscommunication. Perhaps the spirit of Christmas, of goodwill to all, should indeed prevail.'

Delivered from traditions which have lost their life....

Father Jake has a discussion going which I've had many times with myself. To cut to the chase (read his post for full context, if you like), the core of the matter is here:

"...Christians often define tradition as fixed, conflating it with ideas of custom, convention routine, and endowment. In this perspective, tradition must be maintained, guarded, protected, and perpetuated. Such definitions of tradition, however, are becoming increasingly untenable with philosophers and theorists as they recognize that tradition is essentially a dynamic concept, whereby 'continuity is capable of incorporating even the innovations and reinterpretations demanded by the present.' Sociologist Wade Clarke Roof suggests these two views are in constant tension in contemporary faith communities. 'Religious tradition persists, and will continue to do so,' he argues, 'but in one of two fundamental ways: either as a 'lived tradition,' and thereby in a constant state of reenactment, or hardened into rigid doctrines and moralisms'" (p. 40).

Dr. Bass suggests that the relationship between tradition and change is more complex than this. She offers French social theorist Georges Banlandiers' three forms of traditionalism:

"1. Fundamental traditionalism "upholds the maintenance of the most deeply rooted values and models of social and cultural observance" and is marked by sense of permanence;

"2. Formal traditionalism "makes use of forms that are upheld but changed in substance; it establishes a continuity of appearances, but serves new designs"; and

"3. Psuedo-traditionalism enables a "new construction" of tradition by interpreting the past and assuming continuity while recognizing disorder. It is a stance that calls on the past and, at the same time, "appeases" modernity" (p. 41).

In our current unpleasantness, it seems to me that we tend to group all those who disagree with us in Banlandiers' first category. They, in turn, tend to group us in his second category. I suspect the truth is that many of us actually fall into the third category; Roof's "lived tradition," also referred to by Dr. Bass as "fluid retraditioning."

As I was saying last night, I think that, eventually, our differing perspectives may discover that we need each other. We need a core of "tradition" that roots us in the faith of the apostles. But we also need that tradition to be lived in such a way that it is communicated to today's world, meaning that it will be constantly expressed in new ways that meet people where they are right now.

Without a core, we may lose who we are. Without flexibility, we can become irrelevant.

My metapor of choice for this is the circus tent. No, not because the church is s circus notable mostly for its clowns, or because it goes around in circles. Let me get that out of the way early. No, a circus tent because a big tent needs something to hold it up, and that something can either be identity, or tradition.

Identity is crucial, of course; it is what makes a group. A group cannot form without an identity, and it will form an identity of its own, even if it is given one from another source. Tradition, then, is simply a source of identity. It can be a rich, life giving one, or it can be a fossilized bone, a petrified tree in which all that once lived has now been replaced by inert stone. But back to the circus tent.

A small tent can be held up by a central pole, with a few stakes holding up the rest of the tent. However, with only a central pole, the tent itself centers there, and can't go very far in any direction away from that pole. This is "identity:" central to the endeavor, but quite limiting. The more the group clusters around the pole, the less the group wanders about seeking new things, new corners, if nothing else. And the less room there is for diversity in the group, as the group must stay around the pole, or leave the tent altogether.

Tradition is the outer edges of the tent, the smaller poles, the stakes, even a number of poles, that keep the tent up, but make it large, capacious, open to many. No part of the tent is better or more important than any other part of the tent. No one pole is central to the meaning and purpose of the tent. If ever it is, of course, that pole becomes the idol of the group, the reason for its existence, and sooner or later, that pole snaps. If our God is a living God, then our traditions are living traditions; and here the metaphor becomes quite awkward, because we have no metaphors for living things that don't involve control: and over God we certainly have no control.

The Celtic church reportedly used the metaphor of the wild goose for the Holy Spirit, since the Spirit goes where it wills, and no one can control it. We prefer to channel the spirit. When I was a student pastor, I was only licensed to perform the sacraments on the grounds of my church. As a friend in seminary said, for me the Holy Spirit was tethered to the church steeple, and I left it behind when I strayed too far from that spot. Control is our preferred sense of things, and that God is beyond our control is the mysterium tremendum par excellence. A tent pole gives us a greater sense of control than a large tent that seems to hold itself up, with only minor maintenance from us. Has there been a struggle between two factions of the church since at least 1945? No doubt. That was about the time the work of German scholars reached these shores. We are an immigrant community, an immigrant culture, which means we cling to the traditions of the lands we abandoned, long after the homeland has abandoned them as no longer useful. Those traditions we left behind are our identity, which is a large measure of why America is such a conservative culture in many ways. The work of Bultmann and others disturbed the nature of our understanding of God and church and scripture, and we are still reeling from those ideas, just as we are still recovering from the Romantic revolution, which is been over so long it has become not revolutionary but status quo, the measure against which we now mark all change today. We depart from Romanticism at our peril, still. It is our cultural tent pole.

Just as Pietism is, itself prompted by the Romantic movement. Wheels within wheels within wheels. But if we insist on gathering around one tent pole, on clinging to one way of doing things because it is the one we know best, we make an idol of our identity, and we push tradition aside in the name of tradition. (Irony of ironies, saith the Preacher, if he/she were here today.) Indeed, some of "pseudo-traditionalism" is a product of the Romantic movement, which looked to an idyllic past in hopes or recovering authenticity. It is to the Romantics that we owe the idea of the "divided self," even the arguments over Hellenism v. Hebraism, Dionysus v. Apollo; self-actualization v. a life of quiet desperation. But that wasn't new with the Romantics, either. The Renaissance didn't aim to be original, but to recapture the glories of Rome and Athens. It started us on a cycle that American Protestantism has echoed since the first, international "Great Awakening." The Enlightenment which gave rise to the US Constitution revived Greco-Roman architecture and put English grammarians, convinced Latin was the "perfect tongue" because the Romans spoke it, as watchdogs over our "mongrel speech." That the Romantics sought to look back to Bacchus, not Socrates, was only a shift in emphasis. We've been at this a long time, still declaiming that "our group," be it stalwarts for "real rock 'n' roll" or for "the traditions of the apostles," truly upholds the traditions that once made this earth a demi-paradise, or will make it one tomorrow. In the end, it is always about the identity of the group proclaiming the threat to "tradition."

But tradition is not the tent pole; it isn't even the tent. In a truly big tent, there are many tent poles, some more central than others, but none unimportant. And over time, the poles wear out and get replaced; perhaps oak replaces maple, or pine replaces cedar. Perhaps smaller poles have to be used for awhile, and then larger ones. The stakes around the tent have to be replaced, too; and from time to time they are larger, rounder, more pointed, more refined, rougher; often there is a mishmash of styles of poles and stakes, and even ropes: hemp and plastic and wire and what have you. And the tent itself is patched, repaired, replaced, removed entirely in some sections where it is no longer used at all. Perhaps one day even the word "tent" will have no meaning, and the stakes and ropes and poles will be replaced with technologies as yet unimagined. But the idea of the tent will remain. And that, in the last analysis, is the tradition; the living tradition.

Grant that thy Church may be delivered from traditions which have lost their life, from usage which has lost its spirit, from institutions which no longer give life and power to their generation; that the Church may ever shine as a light in the world and be as a city set on a hill.

HEAR OUR PRAYER, O LORD.

Second Sunday of Advent 2006

Texts: Baruch 5:1-9; Psalm 126; Philippians 1:3-11; Luke 3:1-6

"ARCHBISHOP Romero offers her a chair. Marianela prefers to talk standing up. She always comes for others, but this time Marianela comes for herself. Marianela Garda Vilas, attorney for the tortured and disappeared of EI Salvador, does not come this time to ask the archbishop's solidarity with one of the victims of D' Aubuisson, Captain Torch, who burns your body with a blowtorch, or of some other military horror specialist. Marianela doesn't come to ask help for anyone else's investigation or denunciation. This time she has something personal to say to him. As mildly as she can, she tells him that the police have kidnapped her, bound, beat, humiliated, stripped her-and that they raped her. She tells it without tears or agitation, with her usual calm, but Archbishop Romero has never before heard in Marianela's voice these vibrations of hatred, echoes of disgust, calls for vengeance. When Marianela finishes, the archbishop, astounded, falls silent too.

"After a long silence, he begins to tell her that the church does not hate or have enemies, that every infamy and every action against God forms part of a divine order, that criminals are also our brothers and must be prayed for, that one must forgive one's persecutors, one must accept pain, one must. . . Suddenly, Archbishop Romero stops.

"He lowers his glance, buries his head in his hands. He shakes his head, denying it all, and says: 'No, I don't want to know.'

" 'I don't want to know,' he says, and his voice cracks.

"Archbishop Romero, who always gives advice and comfort, is weeping like a child
without mother or home. Archbishop Romero, who always gives assurances, the tranquilizing assurance of a neutral God who knows all and embraces all-Archbishop Romero doubts.

"Romero weeps and doubts and Marianela strokes his head."

“Arise, O Jerusalem, stand upon the height; look toward the east, and see your children gathered from west and east at the word of the Holy One, rejoicing that God has remembered them. For they went out from you on foot, led away by their enemies, but God will bring them back to you , carried in glory, as on a royal throne. For God has ordered that every high mountain and the everlasting hills be made low and the valleys filled up, to make level ground, so that Israel may walk safely in the glory of God.”

I read the story of Romero and Marianela every year, in the first weeks of Advent. I read it as a reminder that Advent is not about Christmas; not Christmas as the world knows it. It is not about packages and trees and lights and maybe even snow; it is not about family and eating too much and wonderful foods you don't see the rest of the year and the lovely old carols we all know by heart, even though most of them are hymns and not carols at all. Advent isn't about that. Advent isn't supposed to prepare us for shopping and hot chocolate and the children's service on Christmas Eve. Advent is about what comes before the mountains and the everlasting hills are made low, before the valleys are filled up, before we can walk safely in the glory of god. Advent is about the world God comes into, the world that needs God. Advent is even about the world that rejects God. And probably, the more the world has rejected God, the less the church has dominated society, the more our Advent has become the world’s celebration of buying and selling and giving and receiving, and the less it has been our preparation from the coming of our Lord. Before the Lord could restore the fortunes of Zion, those fortunes had to be lost, and lost completely, wholly, irrevocably.

The good fortune of Archbishop Romero was lost in a sudden blow when the horrors of life for his people in El Salvador was finally brought home to him by the story of Marianela. He would have preferred an Advent like ours: a chance to hide a little longer behind the tranquilizing assurance of a neutral God who knows all and embraces all. He would have preferred to remain comfortable with the familiar, to not hear the voice of a God calling him out to the wilderness, calling him to accompany the people. But what came to him was the world that needed God; what came to him was the world God needed to come into, not the world he wanted to bring God to. Archbishop Romero, like me, like anyone of us, wanted the world to be a safe place for God, which hope might someday make the world a safe place for us. That’s the Advent we want every year: a world made safe for the child to be born into. Instead, we get the Advent of reality: of war and needless deaths and crimes. Reality shattered Romero’s illusions of safety and security. The world always breaks in to our carefully protected traditions, just like the Massacre of the Innocents which follows every Christmas. For Romero it was the cry of the oppressed: “When will you save the people? O God of mercy, when? The people, Lord, the people! Not thrones and crowns, but men!” To have our fortunes restored, we must first admit that we are empty.

"THERE are so many deaths everywhere that it is incredible.

"The "death squadron" strikes in so many poor homes. A family of seven, including three small children, was machine gunned to death in a nearby town just last week. It is a daily thing- death and bodies found everywhere, many decomposing or attacked by animals because no one can touch them until they are seen by a coroner. It is an atmosphere of death.

"The organized, as they call the left, are made up of some of those simple courageous, suffering farmers. In the Pastoral de Asistencia [pastoral Assistance] work that Ita began in Chatelango, one comes in contact with so many poor refugees-women and children especially, who have lost husbands, brothers, fathers.

"It has become an ordinary daily happening. Two lovely young women were cut into pieces by machetes in a community nearby where so many of the people have been killed. The brave mother of one of these young women is also the mother-in-law of the other and she was here with us taking refuge. We are trying to help the refugees-bringing them to shelters and getting food to places where it is desperately needed.
"Archbishop Romero [murdered while he said Mass in San Salvador on March 23] and all the martyrs of this little violent land must be interceding for a new day for Salvador.

"I am beginning to see death in a new way, dearest Katie. For all these precious men, women, children struggling in just laying down their lives as victims, it is surely a passageway to life or, better, a change of life. . . .

"I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I am at peace here and searching-trying to learn what the Lord is asking. Ita is a beautiful, faith-filled young woman. I am learning much from her. At this point, I would hope to be able to go on, God willing. . . . This seems what he is asking of me at this moment. The work is really what Archbishop Romero called "acompanamiento" [accompanying the people], as well as searching for ways to bring help.

"Write to me soon. Know that I love you and pray for you daily. Keep us in your heart and prayers, especially the poor forsaken people."--Maura Clarke

Maura Clarke was a Maryknoll sister working with the poor in EI Salvador when she wrote this letter in October 1980. On December 2 of that year, Maura Clarke, Ita Ford, Jean Donovan and Dorothy Kazel were brutally murdered.

December 2, 1980. The story of Maura Clarke and Ita Ford, or Jean Donovan and Dorothy Kazel, is a story of Advent, too. Eight days ago now. 26 years ago, now. No wonder we ask every year that Emmanuel come and ransom captive Israel. No power on earth can do it, can save the people; only the power of God can do it. Only the emptying of our hands and our hearts can let God do it. Listen again to Luke: “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.” He takes us from the center of the known power of the world, the palace if Emperor Tiberius, out to the edge of the empire, and the palace of Pontius Pilate, sitting so close to the Temple of Jerusalem Pilate’s guards can stare over the walls into the Temple courtyard. And then down the chain of power we go: Herod the tetrarch, ruler of a quartered kingdom, shared with his brother Philip, who rules half, and Lysanias, ruler of the last quarter. Jumping from each ruler’s home we come to the high priests, the religious powers of Jerusalem, and from them we jump out of the cities altogether, into the wilderness. None of those powerful people matter. Who matters is John, son of Zechariah, living empty handed in the wilderness, waiting for the voice of God. All the powers the world passed by to find this particular, seemingly insignificant, person in the wilderness of Galilee, who is waiting, empty.

Advent is the church’s season of apocalyptic. The world wants to devote December to buying things, filling our arms so we don’t feel empty. The church prepares us by making us empty ourselves, to make room for God. The world is anxious to open packages. The church is anxious to kneel by the feeding trough with the shepherds. Like the shepherds, we want to be empty, not looking for anything, so we will see God in a baby born to peasants. That’s what Advent prepares us for: to see peasants as the messengers of God. Peasants were so important God wanted to be sure to help them. Peasants were so important God came as one of them. Peasants were so important Herod wanted their children killed. The poor of El Salvador were so important, that someone was willing to murder, repeatedly, to keep them from being helped. Emptiness is not lack or wanting, or even insignificance. Emptiness, too, can be important. And the work of God, the work for us who are not poor, is acompanamiento, is accompanying the people. That is what Advent looks forward to: the time when God accompanied us. The time when God took on the risk of mortality, in order to be with us in our lives, to find ways to bring help, so we would help each other. God took on the risks of life, in order to be with us. God came to us! The fact that God is among us is almost apocalyptic; it almost turns our world upside down. And it should.

Caesar, Pilate, Herod, Anas, Caiphas: their hands are full with the great crushing weight of civil authority, and it all weighs down on the people beneath them. They sit in their palaces and hold audiences: we have to go to them. They do not accompany the people, they rule the people. John, his hands empty, his spirit ready, accompanies the people. He calls them to the wilderness, he calls them in the opposite direction. Because of that, he will be the prophet of the most high, and go before the Lord to prepare his way. Because the Lord is coming, not to palaces and kings and cities and temples, but to those whose hands are empty. To those who wait only to be filled by God.

Advent is not about death, but death is a part of it. Advent is not about birth, but birth is a part of it. Advent is about reversal, because God is coming; because things are not as they should be, and God is coming to set them right. Advent is about paradox, because God has come, and set things right. Advent is about the encounter with God which forces a choice, a giving up of the old ways for the new one God is revealing. Advent is about acompanamiento, and our preparation to accompany the people.. Advent teaches us to empty ourselves, so that our love may grow richer in knowledge and insight of every kind, enabling us to learn by experience what things really matter. Then on the day of Christ we will be flawless and without blame, yielding the full harvest of righteousness. Not reaping, as you might want to think, but yielding, as Paul says. The harvest of a heart overflowing more and more with knowledge and full insight gained from the effort of acompanamiento. That is also the apocalypse, the revelation: that God is with us, that God goes before us and prepares the way. That all things are in God’s hands, and the better life is here for us. We must be ready to be empty, so God will fill us.

Amen.

The More They Remain the Same

Arthur Schlesinger on Reinhold Niebuhr via Pastor Dan:

A democracy," Niebuhr said, "cannot of course engage in an explicit preventive war," and he lamented the "inability to comprehend the depth of evil to which individuals and communities may sink, particularly when they try to play the role of God to history."

It's safe to say Niebuhr didn't mean a democracy was absolutely blocked from engaging in an explicit preventive war, and meant only that it could not justify such a war. And fundamentally, he was right, which is one more reason the Bush Administration is so determined to destroy any restraints democracy might put on its exercise of power. On the other hand, there is nothing which prevents a democracy from doing anything. And that has become the problem.

Hecate says, in comments below:

I think it would be moral for us to leave [Iraq]. Staying there isn't preventing a civil war and, more important, to me, the Iraqis want us to leave. And it's their country. Of course, it would have been better to have never invaded, but often, in life, the choice is between a number of unappealing alternatives. That's what we've got here. The moral thing to do is to leave as fast as we can leave.

I think she's right; but that doesn't end the moral question, it just shifts it. Having left Iraq, having left a situation we originated, what is our moral obligation then? What duty do we have to Iraq, or the Middle East, or the world, or just to our own citizens and how our government uses the huge military it has insisted it must have, and we have agreed we must build? Are we going to go on lamenting "inability to comprehend the depth of evil to which individuals and communities may sink, particularly when they try to play the role of God to history"? Very likely. But lamenting and hand-wringing are not the point, any more than seeking leverage. The point is seeking humility, which is the true irony of American history: it is our humility that has made us so sure of our sanctity. On this Niebuhr was actually quite specific, and what he had to say speaks to many comments easily discovered in left blogistan:

But whether or not we avoid another war, we are covered with prospective guilt. We have dreamed of a purely rational adjustment of interests in human society; and we are involved in "total" wars. We have dreamed of a "scientific" approach to all human problems; and we find that the tensions of a world-wide conflict release individual and collective emotions not easily brought under rational control. We had hoped to make neat and sharp distinctions between justice and injustice; and we discover that even the best human actions involve some guilt.

This vast involvement in guilt in a supposedly innocent world achieves a specially ironic dimension through the fact that the two leading powers engaged in the struggle are particularly innocent according to their own official myth and collective memory. The Russian-Communist pretensions of innocency and the monstrous evils which are generated from them, are the fruit of a variant of the liberal dogma. According to the liberal dogma men are excessively selfish because they lack the intelligence to consider interests other than their own. But this higher intelligence can be supplied, of course, by education. Or they are betrayed into selfishness by unfavorable social and political environment. This can be remedied by the growth of scientifically perfected social institutions.

The "innocence" of the American enterprise after World War II may seem clear to us now. As Niebuhr points it, it wasn't really so clear then. We still hope to make neat and sharp distinctions between justice and injustice; and our complete inability to do so, our recognition that "even the best human actions involve some guilt" (invading Iraq can hardly be classed among "the best human actions,"), plagues us even today as we consider what to do in Iraq now. Niebuhr quotes John Adams and employs the words against communism, but surely they apply to the US government as well:

"Power," he wrote, "always thinks it has a great soul and vast views beyond the comprehension of the weak; and that it is doing God’s service when it is violating all His laws. Our passions, ambitions, avarice, love and resentment, etc., possess so much metaphysical subtlety and so much overpowering eloquence that they insinuate themselves into the understanding and the conscience and convert both to their party."

What Niebuhr couldn't foresee, or didn't, was the argument that carried the day until 11/7: the President knows far more than mere mortals do, and he must be trusted to wield his power in accordance with that knowledge which is "beyond the comprehension of the weak," because, after all, Bush "is doing God's service" even as he violates all God's laws. Which is ironic in itself:

The irony of our situation lies in the fact that we could not be virtuous (in the sense of practicing the virtues which are implicit in meeting our vast world responsibilities) if we were really as innocent as we pretend to be. It is particularly remarkable that the two great religious-moral traditions which informed our early life — New England Calvinism and Virginian Deism and Jeffersonianism — arrive at remarkably similar conclusions about the meaning of our national character and destiny. Calvinism may have held too pessimistic views of human nature, and too mechanical views of the providential ordering of human life. But when it assessed the significance of the American experiment both its conceptions of American destiny and its appreciation of American virtue finally arrived at conclusions strikingly similar to those of Deism. Whether our nation interprets its spiritual heritage through Massachusetts or Virginia, we came into existence with the sense of being a "separated" nation, which God was using to make a new beginning for mankind. We had renounced the evils of European feudalism. We had escaped from the evils of European religious bigotry. We had found broad spaces for the satisfaction of human desires in place of the crowded Europe. Whether, as in the case of the New England theocrats, our forefathers thought of our "experiment" as primarily the creation of a new and purer church, or, as in the case of Jefferson and his coterie, they thought primarily of a new political community, they believed in either case that we had been called out by God to create a new humanity. We were God’s "American Israel." Our pretensions of innocency therefore heightened the whole concept of a virtuous humanity which characterizes the culture of our era; and involve us in the ironic incongruity between our illusions and the realities which we experience. We find it almost as difficult as the communists to believe that anyone could think ill of us, since we are as persuaded as they that our society is so essentially virtuous that only malice could prompt criticism of any of our actions.

Put more simply: "They hate us for our freedom."

And I keep saying there is a moral aspect to this situation. One question will be the question of forgiveness. Vietnam was able, as a country, to look past the long, bloody war we prosecuted there, to their benefit and ours. However:

Nations are hardly capable of the spirit of forgiveness which is the final oil of harmony in all human relations and which rests upon the contrite recognition that our actions and attitudes are inevitably interpreted in a different light by our friends as well as foes than we interpret them. Yet it is necessary to acquire a measure of this spirit in the collective relations of mankind. Nations, as individuals, who are completely innocent in their own esteem, are insufferable in their human contacts. The whole world suffers from the pretensions of the communist oligarchs. Our pretensions are of a different order because they are not as consistently held. In any event, we have preserved a system of freedom in which they may be challenged. Yet our American nation, involved in its vast responsibilities, must slough off many illusions which were derived both from the experiences and the ideologies of its childhood. Otherwise either we will seek escape from responsibilities which involve unavoidable guilt, or we will be plunged into avoidable guilt by too great confidence in our virtue.

Which is, frankly, where we are now, barely 50 years after Niebuhr wrote those words.

The more things change....

When is a pipe not a pipe?

Apparently when it's less than 71%.

Yes, the Washington CW is that Bush has to decide when we leave Iraq, since he is both the Commander in Chief and the Decider. But the former is only a title meant to keep the military under civilian control, and the latter is a self-applied designation that is, quite simply, frightening. The question should actually be put to the sovereign which, in a democracy, is the people. But even when it is asked and answered, the answer is distorted:

Even so, Americans are not necessarily intent on getting all U.S. troops out right away, the poll indicated. The survey found strong support for a two-year timetable if that's what it takes to get U.S. troops out. Seventy-one percent said they would favor a two-year timeline from now until sometime in 2008. When people are asked instead about a six-month timeline for withdrawal that number drops to 60 percent.

In any other count, 60% would count as a super-majority, and 71% would only be seen as a distinction between the support for getting out right now, or within 4 more FU's. A distinction, in other words, without a substantive difference. But apparently withdrawal is still so unimaginable that a difference of 11% means the American people agree with their pundits, and a minority, are dirty stinking hippies.

Still not sure when 60% became a minority of the voters, but there you have it. It's not just Bush holding us back.

Clearly, we need to get our intensities aligned.

Frank James is right

"We American reporters aren't sure why our British cousins don't stand when they ask questions of our president or their prime minister like we do," he writes.

"But they sure have a suave way of asking the impertinent questions we reporters are duty bound to ask the powerful."

Via Froomkin.

I am fully aware that blogging Dan Froomkin is like carrying coals to Newcastle. But if you can't use your blog to appreciate words like this, what good is it anyway?

Bush's answer to two questions yesterday, complete with appropriate editorial indications:

First off was Nick Robinson of the BBC: "Mr. President, the Iraq Study Group described the situation in Iraq as 'grave and deteriorating'. You said that the increase in attacks is 'unsettling'. That won't convince many people that you're [not] still in denial about how bad things are in Iraq, and question your sincerity about changing course."

Bush's response was at first testy, then jokey, then righteously indignant.

"It's bad in Iraq. Does that help?" Bush snapped. Then he chuckled.

"Q: Why did it take others to say it before you've been willing to acknowledge for the world --

"PRESIDENT BUSH: In all due respect, I've been saying it a lot. I understand how tough it is. And I've been telling the American people how tough it is. And they know how tough it is. And the fundamental question is, do we have a plan to achieve our objective. Are we willing to change as the enemy has changed? And what the Baker-Hamilton study has done is it shows good ideas as to how to go forward. What our Pentagon is doing is figuring out ways to go forward, all aiming to achieve our objective.

"Make no mistake about it, I understand how tough it is, sir. I talk to families who die [sic]. I understand there's sectarian violence. I also understand that we're hunting down al-Qaeda on a regular basis and we're bringing them to justice. I understand how hard our troops are working. I know how brave the men and women who wear the uniform are, and therefore, they'll have the full support of this government. I understand what long deployments mean to wives and husbands, and mothers and fathers, particularly as we come into a holiday season. I understand. And I have made it abundantly clear how tough it is.

"I also believe we're going to succeed. I believe we'll prevail. Not only do I know how important it is to prevail, I believe we will prevail. I understand how hard it is to prevail. But I also want the American people to understand that if we were to fail -- and one way to assure failure is just to quit, is not to adjust, and say it's just not worth it -- if we were to fail, that failed policy will come to hurt generations of Americans in the future.

"And as I said in my opening statement, I believe we're in an ideological struggle between forces that are reasonable and want to live in peace, and radicals and extremists. And when you throw into the mix radical Shia and radical Sunni trying to gain power and topple moderate governments, with energy which they could use to blackmail Great Britain or America, or anybody else who doesn't kowtow to them, and a nuclear weapon in the hands of a government that is -- would be using that nuclear weapon to blackmail to achieve political objectives -- historians will look back and say, how come Bush and Blair couldn't see the threat? That's what they'll be asking. And I want to tell you, I see the threat and I believe it is up to our governments to help lead the forces of moderation to prevail. It's in our interests.

"And one of the things that has changed for American foreign policy is a threat overseas can now come home to hurt us, and September the 11th should be a wake-up call for the American people to understand what happens if there is violence and safe havens in a part of the world. And what happens is people can die here at home.

"So, no, I appreciate your question. As you can tell, I feel strongly about making sure you understand that I understand it's tough. But I want you to know, sir, that I believe we'll prevail. I know we have to adjust to prevail, but I wouldn't have our troops in harm's way if I didn't believe that, one, it was important, and, two, we'll succeed. Thank you."

Next question, by Bill Neely of ITV News:

"Q: Mr. President, the Iraq Study Group said that leaders must be candid and forthright with people. So let me test that. Are you capable of admitting your failures in the past, and perhaps much more importantly, are you capable of changing course, perhaps in the next few weeks?

"PRESIDENT BUSH: I think you're probably going to have to pay attention to my speech coming up here when I get all the recommendations in, and you can answer that question, yourself. I do know that we have not succeeded as fast as we wanted to succeed. I do understand that progress is not as rapid as I had hoped. And therefore, it makes sense to analyze the situation and to devise a set of tactics and strategies to achieve the objective that I have stated. . . .

"You wanted frankness -- I thought we would succeed quicker than we did, and I am disappointed by the pace of success."

Reading these answers I am reminded, for some reason, about another American:

Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.

And persons attempting to find any coherence in what the President said, moral or otherwise, will be disappointed; as well as confused.

It's all about Archimedes

and moving the world:

"As I’ve written before, our real choices in Iraq are 10 months or 10 years. Either we commit the resources to entirely rebuild the place over a decade, for which there is little support, or we tell everyone that we will be out within 10 months, or sooner, and we’ll deal with the consequences from afar. We need to start the timer — today, now.

"As long as we’re in Iraq, Iraq implodes, and we absorb a lot of the pain. The minute we leave, Iraq explodes — or at least no one can be sure it won’t — and that is a real threat to the Iraqi factions and neighbors. Even facing that reality might not knock enough sense into them to compromise, but at least then they’ll have their medieval religious war without us.

"Only that threat will give us leverage."

--Thomas Friedman, via E&P

Not to pick on the Moustache of Freedom, but this is the conventional wisdom, not just in D.C., or the GOP, or among the neo-cons, but in the world: we cannot afford to act to our disadvantage. It might be arguable whether morality requires self-sacrifice, but if certainly requires consideration of the other, as well as acceptance of responsibility for what we have done. And morality is not a simple either/or where we always give advantage to the other, and take only responsibility and blame on ourselves. Yet this entire Iraq fiasco has been an exercise in either/or thinking, and the very opposite of the caricature of Christianity as a "slave morality." If Christians are last of all and servants of all, US foreign policy has been determined to make our nation first of all nations, and ruler of all nations.

And we can see where that has gotten us.

The conventional wisdom is still running that way. As long as it looks like we haven't failed, as long as we can make it look like we've done the right thing, all will be well. If our eventual withdrawal from Iraq can be re-cast as one that increases, not decreases, our power, it is more palatable. If we can just see it as giving us "more leverage," then we won't have lost anything by this debacle, and we can still convince ourselves that "We're No. 1!"

This is, of course, of a piece with Christian evangelical thinking, which rose up to grab the reins of power in a Deuteronomistic fervor, convinced that once American government was purged of sin, the millenium would surely follow, convinced that as long as everyone looked moral and upright, the nation, too, would be. Or at least people like James Dobson and Ted Haggard would get the best seats at the table. ($190,000 a year buys a pretty nice seat.) Small irony now that some of them aren't even welcome at the table, and may never return there. Rather than serve, they would be served, and the church that believes in you! would be the church that ruled the world. For the most popular evangelicals it is not about service, but about financial management. As it is in the world, so it is in the evangelical church: it's all about power management:

In many evangelical congregations, men and women with same-sex attractions are expected to use prayer and Bible study to help them resist the temptation to sin. Haggard comes from a charismatic tradition that puts particular emphasis on the devil's corrupting influence. He has described supernatural visions of demons waiting to infect newborns with sinful desires.

This theology of constant spiritual warfare has led some of his followers to blame Haggard's fall not on any personal weakness but on Satan's cunning. As congregation member Jan Long, 60, put it: "The enemy wants to destroy us."

Such constructions worry the Rev. Tony Campolo, a liberal evangelical leader who helped guide President Clinton's spiritual restoration after the Monica S. Lewinsky affair. "The idea that this is a matter of some evil spirit taking hold of him is setting Ted Haggard up for disaster," Campolo said. "He may have a tendency to pretend that he's been delivered from his homosexual feelings … and all is well."

Campolo said he hoped the restoration team would impress upon Haggard that "there is no easy fix. These are problems he will struggle with for a lifetime."

"The enemy wants to destroy us." That language, of course, sounds familiar. It is the language of George W. Bush, justifying the war in Iraq. Whatever the reason we are there, now, we mus justify the use of our power as events move forward into an unknown future that we thought we could control. It's all about power. There may be one power in the world, but He needs our help in order to prevail, because there is an Enemy who is almost as powerful, and until He returns to hurl the Enemy into the eternal lake of fire, we must be His soldiers. That, at least, is the way it's sold. It was sold that way in Ted Haggard's church; it was sold that way as an excuse for invading Iraq. The only humility there, is being humble enough to recognize you are responsible for defeating Satan. It's a helluva job, but somebody's gotta do it. After all, with great moral purity comes great responsibility.

The problems of Iraq, of course, are problems this country will struggle with for a lifetime. Just as we have struggled with the legacy of slavery; just as we have struggled with the genocide of the Native Americans. It's all about power, in the end, and power is antithetical to the practice of morality. Machiavelli understood as much. Indeed, "religion is so frequently a source of confusion in political life, and so frequently dangerous to democracy, precisely because it introduces absolutes into the realm of relative values." When those absolute values conflict with our relative ones (Q: should we withdraw from Iraq "six months from now," or on a date certain?), the relative ones always prevail (A: on a date certain to be selected at least six months from now), until we see a way to gain advantage.

And as long as we can keep fighting them over there, we don't have to fight them over here. Which means the violence remains as real as the violence on our TV screens every night.

O Wisdom, O holy word of God, you govern all creation with your strong yet tender care; Come and show your people the way to salvation.

Because until then, we'll keep believing we actually have some leverage; and despite what they tell us, we'll keep believing in pictures:

Moral Country and Immoral World

The question remains. What do we do now? And what does our morality compel? So far, nobody wants to answer, so anyone with the moral courage to actually say what should be done, not what could be done, is to be applauded. So, give a hand to William M. Arkin (even if Atrios does think he's double plus ungood):

In the short term, the study group recommends an unclear and contradictory course for the American military. The call for the withdrawal of the U.S. "combat" troops is so qualified and hedged, I'm not sure that the headlines -- that the study group is calling for the removal of all combat brigades by early 2008 -- is even true. On the one hand, the group recommends that the independent conventional forces be removed. On the other, it calls for a significant force to stay, including special operations forces.

What the group is fundamentally proposing though is that the core of the U.S. military effort switches from independent combat to a combined U.S.-Iraqi effort.The number of U.S. personnel in uniform embedded in Iraqi units would increase significantly under this proposal.

Regardless of whether the president surges more forces to Iraq, whether or not he follows through on the study group's suggestion and indeed draws down independent U.S. combat brigades, builds a rapid reaction force, reduces the American footprint, the accelerated training mission is already underway.

Just like the imagined silver bullet of diplomacy with Iran and Syria, the tough question here is whether the training and advisory approach will make a difference. I don't think so for a number of reasons. First, we are assigning U.S. troops to an even more sensitive and intimate mission with Iraqi players when we have already shown time and again that we are culturally challenged when it comes to understanding the Iraqis. Second, we are shifting responsibility for the security and success of U.S. forces to another party, one whose motivations and capabilities are suspect.

This is not some back-handed stay the course argument. I think we should get out altogether.

But let's be realistic about what will likely unfold even if we adapt the group's proposal: First, there is the question again of waiting for the Iraqis to assume the responsibilities we are thrusting upon them. No wonder Baker and others speak of "years" of continued U.S. presence. Second there remains the question of Baghdad's authority and national mandate. It isn't clear that the Shi'a dominated government -- the faction of the Shiite-dominated government -- is interested in a national military for the purpose of bringing the country together.

I understand that this "new" solution is Washington's way of withdrawing without saying it is withdrawing. But there is too much hope associated with the shift: hope that if we just redouble our effort with the Iraqis, they will all of a sudden get it and transform. In here as well is the strange article of faith that less capable Iraqi military units will succeed where more capable U.S. units failed. It seems to me that if we are admitting that there is no military solution to the problem, there is no Iraqi military solution either.

And if there is not military solution, what do we do? Is there even a moral option open to a nation? Can we justify abandoning Iraq? Can we justify leaving our soldiers there to be killed or wounded?

The question remains open.

'Tis the season to consume electricity

I once lived in the lighted plastic baby Jesus capital of the world (southern Illinois, where every lawn with any self-respect at all had a hard-plastic Nativity scene with at least two shepherds, one Magi, and the Holy Family, all glowing merrily with incandescent glory; and those were the down-scale houses), and have since that time longed for my own electric creche for the yard (alas, the Lovely Wife will have none of it!).

As a consequence, I've never been a fan of the new "inflatables" craze, but this could make me change my mind:



Talk about bringing Christmas close to a person!

Just a comment

on what scoutprime noted:

Blogger Ray in New Orleans has posted a great video made by Gordon Soderberg from New Orleans Voices for Peace. It features the relief work being done in New Orleans by the Iraq Veterans Against the War.

There are interviews with Iraq and Afghanistan war vets. They questioned why we're fighting in Iraq with so little being accomplished there when so much needs to be done on American soil. In New Orleans the vets group worked on the home of a Vietnam War vet. What I found particularly interesting is that they talk about how therapeutic it is to go to New Orleans and help in rebuilding after fighting in Iraq. As one said it was far more helpful being with his brothers and sisters "to help out our brothers before us" than is talking to therapists about PTSD.

She also has the link to the video.

What heals us, is what we do for each other. An Advent lesson, non?

The Moral Question Remains

WaPo:

"It comes far too close to having the U.S. threaten to take its ball and go home if the Iraqi children do not play the game our way," Anthony Cordesmann, a military analyst at the Center for Strategic and International Studies, said in an e-mailed analysis, referring to possible withdrawal of support.

Whether we leave or stay, the moral responsibility remains ours, and ours alone. We took up the "cause" of the Iraqi people when we decided to invade, to make the world a "better place" without Saddam Hussein in power, or threatening us with WMD, or with a new democracy in the Middle East, or whatever the excuses were. That doesn't matter now. We broke it; we bought it.

NYTimes:

“They came up with a political thought but then got to tinkering with tactical ideas that in my view don’t make any sense,” General McCaffrey said. “This is a recipe for national humiliation.”

Humiliation is only a concern when you are the only one involved. We are well past the question of national humiliation, now. This is no longer a matter of how the US appears; it is a question of who we are responsible for, and how we discharge that responsibility. Because this is where we are right now:

A last issue is that given the deterioration of security in Iraq, it may take the combined efforts of American combat units and Iraqi security forces to try to arrest the spiraling violence. In the end, that task may not be achievable. But since it is American forces that have often worked to curb the sectarian killings — and since many of the Iraqi forces have been infiltrated by sectarian militias — there is reason to believe that the civil strife will grow if the American combat forces soon begin to leave.

Of course, there is no reason to believe the violence will diminish so long as we stay. Should we stay, or should we go? That appears to be the only "consensus" James Baker envisions arising from his study group's report. As the Times notes:

The study contains all the ingredients of a Washington compromise. What is less apparent is a detailed and convincing military strategy that is likely to work in Iraq.

Matt Taibbi points out this is a classic Washington scenario, and nothing is going to change anytime soon:

We may soon have to face this fact: with the midterm elections over, and George Bush already a lame duck, the Iraq war is no longer an urgent problem to anyone on the Hill who matters. The Democrats are in no hurry to end things because it will benefit them if Iraq is still a mess in '08; just as they did this fall, they'll bitch about the war without explicitly promising to end it at any particular time. George Bush has already run his last campaign and he's not about to voluntarily fuck up his legacy with a premature surrender or a humiliating concession to Syria or Iran. At least publicly, John McCain is going to head into '08 siding with those in the military who believe the problem is a lack of troops.

For the Iraq disaster to end, someone among these actors is going to have to make a difficult decision -- admit defeat, invite a bloody civil war, lose face before a pair of rogue terror-supporting states -- and it's obvious that none of them is ever going to do that, not until there's absolutely no choice. The Baker-Hamilton report is being praised for its cautious, sensible, bipartisan approach to the Iraq problem (Time magazine even called it "genius") but actually all it is is a tacit recognition of this pass-the-buck dynamic in Washington. Because there is currently no way to even think about ending the actual problem without someone in Washington having to eat a very big bucket of shit, both sides have agreed, in the spirit of so-called bipartisan cooperation, to avoid thinking about ending the problem in the immediate future. Instead, the official policy in the meantime, bet on it, will end up being some version of a three-pronged strategy that involves 1) staying the course or even increasing the amount of troops temporarily 2) seeing what happens in '08, and 3) revisiting the issue after we see who wins the White House two years from now.

Perhaps part of the problem is continuing to see this as a military issue, something that can be solved simply by greater force of arms. The Iraqis certainly present a more nuanced view of their situation, but no one is asking them. Could it be the solution is a moral one, and that requires talking to people? Not just talking to them, but listening to people? Could it be that is what we fear most: that we will have to treat the Iraqis as people, and respect them, and take up the challenges of our ideas of American history and morality, and actually put them to work? Could it be we are simply afraid of getting our fingernails dirty, or of the "national humiliation" that might come from the slow, complicated, messy work of letting people live the lives they want to, rather than the quick, brutal, and ineffective effort of imposing our dreams and visions, our will, on others through blunt and savage power?

Could it be the final irony of American history that our sense of moral superiority has caught up with us, and we finally have to decide if we want to do the hard work of being moral, or mount the brittle bulwarks and defend our "superiority"?

Because whatever we do as a nation now, in Iraq, the moral question remains. We are going to be forced to face an issue of responsibility, again. Which is what morality is supposed to guide us in accepting. Whether we will follow that guidance, or not, is now the national question everyone is avoiding.