Thursday, July 2
Of all the evils that exist in society, racism is one of the most intractable,
because it is so difficult to name and so easy to deny. – James Cone
I heard this on a morning television news show: "If you need a cup of coffee and something to talk about today, I can help you with one of those." These articles won't help you get any coffee, but they will give you something to talk about.
The topic this week is too important to contain in just one article. And, as said by Professor Cone above, it is so difficult to name, I had to send you three pieces to read. If you only have time to read two pages, please read the Guardian interview of Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the last section of Dr. Cone's piece about what gives him hope.
To be a part of the discussion, click on this link https://zoom.us/j/5955701807
Men's Group - Tuesday at 10 am. The Women's Group - Thursday at 9 am.
And, if you really need some coffee, I'll do my best to help you with that too.
-Dave
Church of England Should Rethink Portrayal of a White Jesus 6.26.20
The Guardian
The Anglican church should reconsider the way statues and other representations of Jesus portray him as white in the light of the Black Lives Matter protests, the archbishop of Canterbury has said.
Justin Welby also said that the church must look very carefully to see if they should all be there.
In an interview on Friday, the head of the Church of England said the west in general needed to question the prevailing mindset that depicted Christ as a white man in traditional Christian imagery.
Asked if there had to be rethink on the white image of Jesus, Welby said: “Yes of course it does, this sense that God was white … You go into churches [around the world] and you don’t see a white Jesus.
“You see a black Jesus, a Chinese Jesus, a Middle-Eastern Jesus – which is of course the most accurate – you see a Fijian Jesus.”
Welby told BBC Radio 4’s Today programme: “Jesus is portrayed in as many ways as there are cultures, languages and understandings. And I don’t think that throwing out everything we’ve got in the past is the way to do it but I do think saying: ‘That’s not the Jesus who exists, that’s not who we worship,’ it is a reminder of the universality of the God who became fully human.”
He said that statues in Canterbury Cathedral would be under review on the back of the worldwide Black Lives Matter campaign to bring down monuments to controversial figures such as those engaged in the slave trade.
On the recent calls for statue removals, the archbishop said people should forgive the “trespasses” of people immortalised in the form of statues, rather than tearing them down.
Welby said: “Some names will have to change. I mean, the church, goodness me, you know, you just go around Canterbury Cathedral, there’s monuments everywhere, or Westminster Abbey, and we’re looking at all that, and some will have to come down. But yes, there can be forgiveness, I hope and pray as we come together, but only if there’s justice.”
But challenged if this meant some statues would be taken down from inside Canterbury Cathedral, he said: “No, I didn’t say that. I very carefully didn’t say that.”
He added that it was not his decision, and told the Today programme: “We’re going to be looking very carefully and putting them in context and seeing if they all should be there … The question arises. Of course it does.”
Theologians and White Supremacy: An interview with James H. Cone
America Magazine, 11.20.06
Are American theologians saying enough about racism?
No, they are not. Both Catholic and Protestant theologians do theology as if they do not have to engage with the problem of white supremacy and racism. Not all of them ignore it completely, but some write as if slavery, colonialism and segregation never existed. In fact, white supremacy is more deeply entrenched now than it was in the 1960’s and early 1970’s, because back then, the country acknowledged its racial problems more directly. The civil rights and black power movements forced the nation—through Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X and a host of other courageous people—to confront racism as a cancer in the body politic. The churches did too, both Catholic and Protestant. Fighting for racial justice in the 1960’s was the churches’ finest hour.
But now, having confronted it years ago, they think they have made the racial situation better, whereas in some ways it is worse. It is like a new form of racism, in that it accepts the tokenism of a few blacks in churches, educational institutions and government in order to make people think everything is fine on the racial front. But just look at the statistics about the African-American community with regard to imprisonment, health care, education and employment. We are worse off today in areas like these. So I want to challenge white theologians and their churches to speak out in a sustained and prophetic way about racial injustice.
Why are white theologians so silent?
I think their silence stems partly from a distorted understanding of what the Gospel means in a racially broken world. White theologians have not succeeded in making an empathetic bond with the pains and hurts of people of color. If theologians perceived their own sons and daughters and parents as being discriminated against, they would not only write passionately against it but would make their rejection of injustice an essential part of their reflection on the Gospel. Just as Ralph Ellison wrote in the 1950’s about black invisibility in The Invisible Man, black suffering today still remains invisible to many whites. We bond with like-minded people of the same racial group, which is natural because we may live in the same apartment buildings, go to the same schools and churches and have similar values and histories. It is easy to make that kind of social and political bond. But when people look different, it is harder to make. But that is what the Gospel of Jesus is all about - making a human bond with the least of these.
Please say more on what the cross symbolizes for African-Americans.
The cross stands at the center of the Christian faith of African-Americans because Jesus’ suffering was similar to their American experience. Just as Jesus Christ was crucified, so were blacks lynched. In the American experience, the cross is the lynching tree. The crucifixion of Jesus was a first-century lynching. If American Christians want to understand the meaning of the cross, they have to view it through the image of the lynching tree on which approximately 5,000 mostly (but not exclusively) black people were killed.
What is most revealing, though, is not the large number of black lives lost, but the violence and the torture of the lynching and the horror it created in the African-American community. Whites would often leave a black body hanging on a tree or lamppost for several days just to terrorize the community, to let them know that this is a white man’s country, and if you don’t stay in your assigned place, the same fate can happen to you. Whites who did the lynching were respectable members of Christian churches and saw no contradiction between murdering black people and the Gospel of Jesus.
Whites did not see this contradiction partly because white theologians failed to point it out with sustained conviction and passion. They interpreted Jesus’ cross without any reference to the suffering blacks in their midst. It is amazing to me that few theologians have even mentioned lynching in connection with the cross or said a public word against it when it was so widespread. During the peak of the so-called lynching bees, between 1880 and 1930, there was no public opposition in the writings of prominent Protestant and Catholic theologians.
For example, the prominent social gospel theologian Walter Rauschenbusch said nothing, and neither did Reinhold Niebuhr. I have no doubt that they and others were against the lynching of African-Americans, but they did not say so publicly in their writings. Had blacks been lynching whites, they would surely have spoken out loud and clear. So I hold them accountable for their silence on black suffering. Silence in the face of innocent suffering is complicity in the act itself. While white theologians failed to see the connection between Jesus’ suffering and the African-American experience, blacks did not miss it. When they initially heard from white missionaries and preachers the story of Jesus, they saw a mirror of themselves in his suffering.
Recently, the U.S. Senate approved a resolution for failing to enact federal anti-lynching legislation decades ago, marking the first time the body has apologized for America’s treatment of black people. I contend that white Catholic and Protestant theologians should make a similar apology to African-Americans for their own silence. Perhaps if they could acknowledge their past failures, they could see the need to speak out against racial injustice today.
You mentioned criminal justice. Please expand on that.
The criminal justice system in the United States can be said to be doing much of the lynching today, in a new form. In the 1930’s, the American government decided to clamp down on public lynchings as being outside the law. When law enforcement officers had to confront an angry crowd that wanted to lynch a black person, they would tell the crowd not to lynch the prisoner directly. Instead, they told them to take him to court and lynch him there, using the death penalty. In the courtroom, the judges and juries were white. Blacks were excluded from juries and had few resources to defend themselves against either white mob violence or the violence of the criminal justice system. Whites could disregard the black insistence on equal justice because it was their court, and there would be a quick trial that would end in execution. Many scholars call that legal lynching.
Today, the number of incarcerated black people is far out of proportion to their numbers in the population as a whole. Then there are the drug penalties like the mandatory minimum drug laws created, in my opinion, especially for blacks, with harsher penalties for those convicted of crack cocaine sale or possession than for powdered cocaine, which is preferred by white addicts. There can be no equal justice until a black life is worth the same as a white life.
What are your hopes for a deeper understanding of the Gospel as transcending racial bonding?
Because of my faith in God and humanity, I have hope that together we can create a society and world not defined by white supremacy. I still believe that we can do what the Gospel demands— make a new world safe for all. Martin Luther King Jr. called it the beloved community. Even during the last year of his life, when all seemed lost, with blacks rejecting nonviolence and whites rejecting genuine racial justice, King did not lose hope that God could make a way out of no way, that there is a divine power of justice at work in the struggles of the poor that cannot be destroyed. It was truly amazing how Martin could sustain his hope for a beloved community at a time when nobody, black or white, seemed to believe in it or even care.
I speak out against white supremacy not because I have lost hope, but rather because I too have found it. Hope, for me, is found where two or three small groups of people—blacks, whites and other people of color who believe in Martin’s vision of the beloved community—become willing to bear witness to the Gospel’s transcending racial bonding and move toward human bonding. We need some signs of that transcending. Where will they come from if not from the church? And how will these signs be expressed, except by preachers and priests and rabbis?
James H. Cone is the Briggs Distinguished Professor at Union Theological Seminary in New York City. He is the author of many books and articles on issues of race, including Martin and Malcolm & America, and Liberation: A Black Theology of Liberation. The interviewer is George M. Anderson, S.J., an associate editor of America, who met with Professor Cone at the seminary.
How An Iconic Painting of Jesus as a White Man Became So Widely Distributed Emily McFarlan,
The Washington Post 6.25.20
The painting, which has been reproduced a billion times, came to define what the central figure of Christianity looked like for generations of Christians in the United States — and beyond. For years, Sallman’s Jesus “represented the image of God,” said Carr, the director of ministry and administrative support staff at First Baptist Church of Glenarden in Maryland. When she grew up and began to study the Bible on her own, she started to wonder about that painting and the message it sent. “It didn’t make sense that this picture was of this white guy,” she said.
Carr isn’t the first to question Sallman’s image of Jesus and the impact it’s had not only on theology but also on the wider culture. As protesters around the United States tear down statues of Confederate heroes and demand an accounting for the country’s long legacy of racism, some in the church are asking whether the time has come to cancel what is called white Jesus — including Sallman’s famed painting.
The “Head of Christ” has been called the “best-known American artwork of the 20th century.” The New York Times once labeled Sallman the “best-known artist” of the 20th century, although that few recognized his name. “Sallman, who died in 1968, was a religious painter and illustrator whose most popular picture, ‘Head of Christ,’ achieved a mass popularity that makes Warhol’s soup can seem positively obscure,” William Grimes of the Times wrote in 1994.
The famed image began as a charcoal sketch for the first issue of the Covenant Companion, a youth magazine for a denomination known as the Swedish Evangelical Mission Covenant. Sallman, wanting to appeal to young adults, he gave his Jesus a “very similar feeling to an image of a school or professional photo of the time making it more accessible and familiar to the audience,” said Tai Lipan, gallery director at Indiana’s Anderson University, which has housed the Warner Sallman Collection since the 1980s. His approach worked.
The image was so popular that the 1940 graduating class of North Park Theological Seminary in Chicago commissioned Sallman to create a painting based on his drawing as their class gift to the school, according to the Evangelical Covenant Church’s official magazine. Sallman painted a copy for the school but sold the original “Head of Christ” to the religious publisher Kriebel and Bates, and what Lipan calls a “Protestant icon” was born. “This particular image of Jesus met the dawn of the ‘Mad Men,’ of the marketing agency,” said Matthew Anderson, an affiliate professor of theological studies at Concordia University in Montreal.
The image quickly spread, printed on prayer cards and circulated by organizations, missionaries and a wide range of churches: Catholic and Protestant, evangelical and mainline, white and black. Copies accompanied soldiers into battle during World War II, handed out by the Salvation Army and YMCA through the USO. Millions of cards produced in a project called “Christ in Every Purse” that was endorsed by then-President Dwight Eisenhower were distributed all around the world. The image appeared on pencils, bookmarks, lamps and clocks and was hung in courtrooms, police stations, libraries and schools. It became what the scholar David Morgan has heard called a “photograph of Jesus.” Along the way, Sallman’s image crowded out other depictions of Jesus. Some of the earliest images of Jesus showed him “with very dark skin and possibly African,” he said. Sallman wasn’t the first to depict Jesus as white, Morgan said. The Chicagoan had been inspired by a long tradition of European artists, most notable among them the Frenchman Leon-Augustin Lhermitte. But against the backdrop of U.S. history, of European Christians colonizing indigenous lands with the blessing of the Doctrine of Discovery and enslaving African people, Morgan said, a universal image of a white Jesus became problematic. “You simply can’t ignore very Nordic Jesus,” he said.
The backlash to Sallman’s work began during the civil rights movement, when his depiction of a Scandinavian savior was criticized for enshrining the image of a white Jesus for generations of Americans. That criticism has been renewed recently amid the current national reckoning over racism sparked by the May 25 death of George Floyd, a black man killed in an encounter with police in Minneapolis. This week, the activist Shaun King called for statues depicting Jesus as European to come down alongside Confederate monuments, calling the depiction a “form of white supremacy.”
Anthea Butler, an associate professor of religious studies and Africana studies at the University of Pennsylvania, has also warned of the damaging impact of depictions of white Jesus. “Every time you see white Jesus, you see white supremacy,” she said recently on the Religion News Service video series. Sallman’s Jesus was “the Jesus you saw in all the black Baptist churches.” But Sallman’s Jesus did not look like black Christians, according to the scholar. Instead, she said, that Jesus looked “like the people who were beating you up in the streets or setting dogs on you.” That Jesus sent a message, Butler said. “If Jesus is white and God is white,” she said, “then authority is white.”
Edward J. Blum, who co-wrote the 2014 book “The Color of Christ: The Son of God and the Saga of Race in America,” said many Christians remain hesitant to give up the image of white Jesus. He believes the continued popularity of white depictions of Jesus are “an example of how far in some respects the United States has not moved.” A decade after Sallman painted his “Head of Christ,” the Korean artist Kim Ki-chang created a picture cycle of the life of Christ in traditional Korean clothing and settings, featuring figures from Korean folk religion. “If white Jesus can’t be put to death, how could it possibly be the case that systemic racism is done?” Blum said. “Because this is one that just seems obvious. This one seems easy to give up."
More recently, Sofia Minson, a New Zealand artist who is of Ngāti Porou Māori, English, Swedish and Irish heritage, reimagined Sallman’s Jesus as an indigenous Māori man with a traditional face tattoo. And there are numerous popular depictions of Jesus as black. Vincent Barzoni’s “His Voyage: Life of Jesus,” depicts Jesus with dark skin and dreadlocks, his wrists bound, while the Franciscan friar Robert Lentz’s “Jesus Christ Liberator” depicts Jesus as a black man in the style of a Greek icon. Janet McKenzie’s “Jesus of the People,” modeled on a black woman, was chosen as the winner of the National Catholic Reporter’s 1999 competition to answer the question, “What would Jesus Christ look like in the year 2000?”
because it is so difficult to name and so easy to deny. – James Cone
I heard this on a morning television news show: "If you need a cup of coffee and something to talk about today, I can help you with one of those." These articles won't help you get any coffee, but they will give you something to talk about.
The topic this week is too important to contain in just one article. And, as said by Professor Cone above, it is so difficult to name, I had to send you three pieces to read. If you only have time to read two pages, please read the Guardian interview of Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the last section of Dr. Cone's piece about what gives him hope.
To be a part of the discussion, click on this link https://zoom.us/j/5955701807
Men's Group - Tuesday at 10 am. The Women's Group - Thursday at 9 am.
And, if you really need some coffee, I'll do my best to help you with that too.
-Dave
Church of England Should Rethink Portrayal of a White Jesus 6.26.20
The Guardian
The Anglican church should reconsider the way statues and other representations of Jesus portray him as white in the light of the Black Lives Matter protests, the archbishop of Canterbury has said.
Justin Welby also said that the church must look very carefully to see if they should all be there.
In an interview on Friday, the head of the Church of England said the west in general needed to question the prevailing mindset that depicted Christ as a white man in traditional Christian imagery.
Asked if there had to be rethink on the white image of Jesus, Welby said: “Yes of course it does, this sense that God was white … You go into churches [around the world] and you don’t see a white Jesus.
“You see a black Jesus, a Chinese Jesus, a Middle-Eastern Jesus – which is of course the most accurate – you see a Fijian Jesus.”
Welby told BBC Radio 4’s Today programme: “Jesus is portrayed in as many ways as there are cultures, languages and understandings. And I don’t think that throwing out everything we’ve got in the past is the way to do it but I do think saying: ‘That’s not the Jesus who exists, that’s not who we worship,’ it is a reminder of the universality of the God who became fully human.”
He said that statues in Canterbury Cathedral would be under review on the back of the worldwide Black Lives Matter campaign to bring down monuments to controversial figures such as those engaged in the slave trade.
On the recent calls for statue removals, the archbishop said people should forgive the “trespasses” of people immortalised in the form of statues, rather than tearing them down.
Welby said: “Some names will have to change. I mean, the church, goodness me, you know, you just go around Canterbury Cathedral, there’s monuments everywhere, or Westminster Abbey, and we’re looking at all that, and some will have to come down. But yes, there can be forgiveness, I hope and pray as we come together, but only if there’s justice.”
But challenged if this meant some statues would be taken down from inside Canterbury Cathedral, he said: “No, I didn’t say that. I very carefully didn’t say that.”
He added that it was not his decision, and told the Today programme: “We’re going to be looking very carefully and putting them in context and seeing if they all should be there … The question arises. Of course it does.”
Theologians and White Supremacy: An interview with James H. Cone
America Magazine, 11.20.06
Are American theologians saying enough about racism?
No, they are not. Both Catholic and Protestant theologians do theology as if they do not have to engage with the problem of white supremacy and racism. Not all of them ignore it completely, but some write as if slavery, colonialism and segregation never existed. In fact, white supremacy is more deeply entrenched now than it was in the 1960’s and early 1970’s, because back then, the country acknowledged its racial problems more directly. The civil rights and black power movements forced the nation—through Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X and a host of other courageous people—to confront racism as a cancer in the body politic. The churches did too, both Catholic and Protestant. Fighting for racial justice in the 1960’s was the churches’ finest hour.
But now, having confronted it years ago, they think they have made the racial situation better, whereas in some ways it is worse. It is like a new form of racism, in that it accepts the tokenism of a few blacks in churches, educational institutions and government in order to make people think everything is fine on the racial front. But just look at the statistics about the African-American community with regard to imprisonment, health care, education and employment. We are worse off today in areas like these. So I want to challenge white theologians and their churches to speak out in a sustained and prophetic way about racial injustice.
Why are white theologians so silent?
I think their silence stems partly from a distorted understanding of what the Gospel means in a racially broken world. White theologians have not succeeded in making an empathetic bond with the pains and hurts of people of color. If theologians perceived their own sons and daughters and parents as being discriminated against, they would not only write passionately against it but would make their rejection of injustice an essential part of their reflection on the Gospel. Just as Ralph Ellison wrote in the 1950’s about black invisibility in The Invisible Man, black suffering today still remains invisible to many whites. We bond with like-minded people of the same racial group, which is natural because we may live in the same apartment buildings, go to the same schools and churches and have similar values and histories. It is easy to make that kind of social and political bond. But when people look different, it is harder to make. But that is what the Gospel of Jesus is all about - making a human bond with the least of these.
Please say more on what the cross symbolizes for African-Americans.
The cross stands at the center of the Christian faith of African-Americans because Jesus’ suffering was similar to their American experience. Just as Jesus Christ was crucified, so were blacks lynched. In the American experience, the cross is the lynching tree. The crucifixion of Jesus was a first-century lynching. If American Christians want to understand the meaning of the cross, they have to view it through the image of the lynching tree on which approximately 5,000 mostly (but not exclusively) black people were killed.
What is most revealing, though, is not the large number of black lives lost, but the violence and the torture of the lynching and the horror it created in the African-American community. Whites would often leave a black body hanging on a tree or lamppost for several days just to terrorize the community, to let them know that this is a white man’s country, and if you don’t stay in your assigned place, the same fate can happen to you. Whites who did the lynching were respectable members of Christian churches and saw no contradiction between murdering black people and the Gospel of Jesus.
Whites did not see this contradiction partly because white theologians failed to point it out with sustained conviction and passion. They interpreted Jesus’ cross without any reference to the suffering blacks in their midst. It is amazing to me that few theologians have even mentioned lynching in connection with the cross or said a public word against it when it was so widespread. During the peak of the so-called lynching bees, between 1880 and 1930, there was no public opposition in the writings of prominent Protestant and Catholic theologians.
For example, the prominent social gospel theologian Walter Rauschenbusch said nothing, and neither did Reinhold Niebuhr. I have no doubt that they and others were against the lynching of African-Americans, but they did not say so publicly in their writings. Had blacks been lynching whites, they would surely have spoken out loud and clear. So I hold them accountable for their silence on black suffering. Silence in the face of innocent suffering is complicity in the act itself. While white theologians failed to see the connection between Jesus’ suffering and the African-American experience, blacks did not miss it. When they initially heard from white missionaries and preachers the story of Jesus, they saw a mirror of themselves in his suffering.
Recently, the U.S. Senate approved a resolution for failing to enact federal anti-lynching legislation decades ago, marking the first time the body has apologized for America’s treatment of black people. I contend that white Catholic and Protestant theologians should make a similar apology to African-Americans for their own silence. Perhaps if they could acknowledge their past failures, they could see the need to speak out against racial injustice today.
You mentioned criminal justice. Please expand on that.
The criminal justice system in the United States can be said to be doing much of the lynching today, in a new form. In the 1930’s, the American government decided to clamp down on public lynchings as being outside the law. When law enforcement officers had to confront an angry crowd that wanted to lynch a black person, they would tell the crowd not to lynch the prisoner directly. Instead, they told them to take him to court and lynch him there, using the death penalty. In the courtroom, the judges and juries were white. Blacks were excluded from juries and had few resources to defend themselves against either white mob violence or the violence of the criminal justice system. Whites could disregard the black insistence on equal justice because it was their court, and there would be a quick trial that would end in execution. Many scholars call that legal lynching.
Today, the number of incarcerated black people is far out of proportion to their numbers in the population as a whole. Then there are the drug penalties like the mandatory minimum drug laws created, in my opinion, especially for blacks, with harsher penalties for those convicted of crack cocaine sale or possession than for powdered cocaine, which is preferred by white addicts. There can be no equal justice until a black life is worth the same as a white life.
What are your hopes for a deeper understanding of the Gospel as transcending racial bonding?
Because of my faith in God and humanity, I have hope that together we can create a society and world not defined by white supremacy. I still believe that we can do what the Gospel demands— make a new world safe for all. Martin Luther King Jr. called it the beloved community. Even during the last year of his life, when all seemed lost, with blacks rejecting nonviolence and whites rejecting genuine racial justice, King did not lose hope that God could make a way out of no way, that there is a divine power of justice at work in the struggles of the poor that cannot be destroyed. It was truly amazing how Martin could sustain his hope for a beloved community at a time when nobody, black or white, seemed to believe in it or even care.
I speak out against white supremacy not because I have lost hope, but rather because I too have found it. Hope, for me, is found where two or three small groups of people—blacks, whites and other people of color who believe in Martin’s vision of the beloved community—become willing to bear witness to the Gospel’s transcending racial bonding and move toward human bonding. We need some signs of that transcending. Where will they come from if not from the church? And how will these signs be expressed, except by preachers and priests and rabbis?
James H. Cone is the Briggs Distinguished Professor at Union Theological Seminary in New York City. He is the author of many books and articles on issues of race, including Martin and Malcolm & America, and Liberation: A Black Theology of Liberation. The interviewer is George M. Anderson, S.J., an associate editor of America, who met with Professor Cone at the seminary.
How An Iconic Painting of Jesus as a White Man Became So Widely Distributed Emily McFarlan,
The Washington Post 6.25.20
The painting, which has been reproduced a billion times, came to define what the central figure of Christianity looked like for generations of Christians in the United States — and beyond. For years, Sallman’s Jesus “represented the image of God,” said Carr, the director of ministry and administrative support staff at First Baptist Church of Glenarden in Maryland. When she grew up and began to study the Bible on her own, she started to wonder about that painting and the message it sent. “It didn’t make sense that this picture was of this white guy,” she said.
Carr isn’t the first to question Sallman’s image of Jesus and the impact it’s had not only on theology but also on the wider culture. As protesters around the United States tear down statues of Confederate heroes and demand an accounting for the country’s long legacy of racism, some in the church are asking whether the time has come to cancel what is called white Jesus — including Sallman’s famed painting.
The “Head of Christ” has been called the “best-known American artwork of the 20th century.” The New York Times once labeled Sallman the “best-known artist” of the 20th century, although that few recognized his name. “Sallman, who died in 1968, was a religious painter and illustrator whose most popular picture, ‘Head of Christ,’ achieved a mass popularity that makes Warhol’s soup can seem positively obscure,” William Grimes of the Times wrote in 1994.
The famed image began as a charcoal sketch for the first issue of the Covenant Companion, a youth magazine for a denomination known as the Swedish Evangelical Mission Covenant. Sallman, wanting to appeal to young adults, he gave his Jesus a “very similar feeling to an image of a school or professional photo of the time making it more accessible and familiar to the audience,” said Tai Lipan, gallery director at Indiana’s Anderson University, which has housed the Warner Sallman Collection since the 1980s. His approach worked.
The image was so popular that the 1940 graduating class of North Park Theological Seminary in Chicago commissioned Sallman to create a painting based on his drawing as their class gift to the school, according to the Evangelical Covenant Church’s official magazine. Sallman painted a copy for the school but sold the original “Head of Christ” to the religious publisher Kriebel and Bates, and what Lipan calls a “Protestant icon” was born. “This particular image of Jesus met the dawn of the ‘Mad Men,’ of the marketing agency,” said Matthew Anderson, an affiliate professor of theological studies at Concordia University in Montreal.
The image quickly spread, printed on prayer cards and circulated by organizations, missionaries and a wide range of churches: Catholic and Protestant, evangelical and mainline, white and black. Copies accompanied soldiers into battle during World War II, handed out by the Salvation Army and YMCA through the USO. Millions of cards produced in a project called “Christ in Every Purse” that was endorsed by then-President Dwight Eisenhower were distributed all around the world. The image appeared on pencils, bookmarks, lamps and clocks and was hung in courtrooms, police stations, libraries and schools. It became what the scholar David Morgan has heard called a “photograph of Jesus.” Along the way, Sallman’s image crowded out other depictions of Jesus. Some of the earliest images of Jesus showed him “with very dark skin and possibly African,” he said. Sallman wasn’t the first to depict Jesus as white, Morgan said. The Chicagoan had been inspired by a long tradition of European artists, most notable among them the Frenchman Leon-Augustin Lhermitte. But against the backdrop of U.S. history, of European Christians colonizing indigenous lands with the blessing of the Doctrine of Discovery and enslaving African people, Morgan said, a universal image of a white Jesus became problematic. “You simply can’t ignore very Nordic Jesus,” he said.
The backlash to Sallman’s work began during the civil rights movement, when his depiction of a Scandinavian savior was criticized for enshrining the image of a white Jesus for generations of Americans. That criticism has been renewed recently amid the current national reckoning over racism sparked by the May 25 death of George Floyd, a black man killed in an encounter with police in Minneapolis. This week, the activist Shaun King called for statues depicting Jesus as European to come down alongside Confederate monuments, calling the depiction a “form of white supremacy.”
Anthea Butler, an associate professor of religious studies and Africana studies at the University of Pennsylvania, has also warned of the damaging impact of depictions of white Jesus. “Every time you see white Jesus, you see white supremacy,” she said recently on the Religion News Service video series. Sallman’s Jesus was “the Jesus you saw in all the black Baptist churches.” But Sallman’s Jesus did not look like black Christians, according to the scholar. Instead, she said, that Jesus looked “like the people who were beating you up in the streets or setting dogs on you.” That Jesus sent a message, Butler said. “If Jesus is white and God is white,” she said, “then authority is white.”
Edward J. Blum, who co-wrote the 2014 book “The Color of Christ: The Son of God and the Saga of Race in America,” said many Christians remain hesitant to give up the image of white Jesus. He believes the continued popularity of white depictions of Jesus are “an example of how far in some respects the United States has not moved.” A decade after Sallman painted his “Head of Christ,” the Korean artist Kim Ki-chang created a picture cycle of the life of Christ in traditional Korean clothing and settings, featuring figures from Korean folk religion. “If white Jesus can’t be put to death, how could it possibly be the case that systemic racism is done?” Blum said. “Because this is one that just seems obvious. This one seems easy to give up."
More recently, Sofia Minson, a New Zealand artist who is of Ngāti Porou Māori, English, Swedish and Irish heritage, reimagined Sallman’s Jesus as an indigenous Māori man with a traditional face tattoo. And there are numerous popular depictions of Jesus as black. Vincent Barzoni’s “His Voyage: Life of Jesus,” depicts Jesus with dark skin and dreadlocks, his wrists bound, while the Franciscan friar Robert Lentz’s “Jesus Christ Liberator” depicts Jesus as a black man in the style of a Greek icon. Janet McKenzie’s “Jesus of the People,” modeled on a black woman, was chosen as the winner of the National Catholic Reporter’s 1999 competition to answer the question, “What would Jesus Christ look like in the year 2000?”
Thursday, June 25
I am intrigued with the attached article about rage, the Bible, and the reason for protests in our country. More about the author, the Rev. Dr. Esau McCaulley, can be found here https://www.wheaton.edu/academics/faculty/esau-mccaulley/ In particular, he studied under one of my favorite theologians, NT Wright; which makes me rather envious. He raises several important questions in this piece, like this one: Do we risk the criticism commonly levied at Christians that we move too quickly to hope because faith pacifies? This question, along with others, I look forward to discussing with you.
What the Bible Says About Rage
By The Rev. Dr. Esau McCaulley, NY Times June 15, 2020
There are videos of Eric Garner and George Floyd being choked to death by police officers while pleading for their lives. There is a video of Tamir Rice, a 12-year-old boy who was shot to death while playing with a toy gun. There is a video of Ahmaud Arbery, who was hunted and killed while out on a run. There is a video of a police officer mounting and handcuffing Dajerria Becton, 15 years old at the time, at a pool party.
Visible evidence of black suffering is not new. We have photographs of black lynchings. The videos are a reminder that the issue was never about a lack of evidence. They reveal the lengths to which those in power will go to avoid facing the truth. What is happening in those videos is a manifestation of systemic racism — and to acknowledge that would call into question the system that benefits the powerful.
When these videos stack one upon another and are added to our personal slights, a deep unsettling anger rises in the soul of a disinherited and beleaguered people. James Baldwin said, “To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all the time.”
What is the focus of our rage? Are we upset with the police officer who placed his knee on the neck of a man pleading for his life for nearly nine minutes while three fellow officers looked on? Are we mad at the vigilantes who got in a pickup truck to hunt down an unarmed black man? Are we enraged by the white woman who tried to weaponize the police by claiming that a black man who requested that she leash her dog in Central Park was threatening her life? Are we frustrated by the laws and customs that cast a pall over the black experience? Are we wearied with the apathy of so many?
The Bible is not silent about the rage of the oppressed. One of the most startlingly violent passages in the Bible comes from the lips of the disinherited. In Psalm 137 the psalmist says, “Daughter Babylon, doomed to destruction, happy is the one who repays you according to what you have done to us. Happy is the one who seizes your infants and dashes them against the rocks.”
How can wishing such an atrocity be in any sense a religious text? Psalm 137 is a psalm of the traumatized. It depicts the aftermath of the destruction of Jerusalem, the sack of the city, sexual assault and brutalization of the innocent. What kind of song do you write if you are forced to watch the murder of your wife, your child, your neighbor?
Psalm 137 is trauma literature, the rage of those who lived. The question isn’t why the Psalmist wrote this. The question is what kind of song would the families of Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd and Eric Garner be tempted to write after watching the video of their deaths? It would be raw and unfiltered. But more than an expression of rage, this psalm is a written record in time. It is a call to remember. This psalm, and the other psalms of rage, require us to remember the trauma that led to their composition.
The miracle of the Bible is not that it records the rage of the oppressed. The miracle is that it has more to say. The same texts that include a call for vengeance upon Israel’s enemies look to the salvation of its oppressors. Isaiah 49 says, “It is too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes of Jacob and bring back those of Israel I have kept. I will also make you a light for the Gentiles, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.”
For Christians, rage (Psalm 137) must eventually give way to hope (Isaiah 49). And we find the spiritual resources to make this transition at the cross. Jesus could have called down the psalms of rage upon his enemies and shouted a final word of defiance before he breathed his last. Instead he called for forgiveness: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing,” he says in Luke 23.
It was not a false reconciliation: Jesus experienced the reality of state-sponsored terror. That is why the black Christian has always felt a particular kinship with this crucified king from an oppressed ethnic group. The cross helps us make sense of the lynching tree.
And Jesus’ resurrection three days after his crucifixion shows that neither the lynching tree nor the cross have the final say about those whom God values. The state thought that violence could stop God’s purposes. For the Christian, the resurrection makes clear the futility of the attempt. Further, Jesus’ profound act of forgiving his opponents provides me with the theological resources to hope.
Dare we speak of hope when chants of “I can’t breathe” echo in the streets? Do we risk the criticism commonly levied at Christians that we move too quickly to hope because faith pacifies? Resurrection hope doesn’t remove the Christian from the struggle for justice. It empties the state’s greatest weapon — the fear of death — of its power.
Hope is possible if we recognize that it does not rule out justice. It is what separates justice from vengeance. Howard Thurman wrote in his classic work “Jesus and the Disinherited” about how rage, once unleashed, tends to spill out beyond its intended target and consume everything. The hatred of our enemy that we take to the streets returns with us to our friendships, marriages and communities. It damages our own souls.
Christians contend for justice because we care about black lives, families and communities. We contend for reconciliation after the establishment of justice because there must be a future that is more than mutual contempt and suspicion. But justice and reconciliation cannot come at the cost of black lives. The only peaceful future is a just future. And because Christians should be a people for peace, we must be a people for justice even when it seems ever to elude us. Too many black lives have been lost to accept anything else.
Esau McCaulley is an assistant professor of New Testament at Wheaton College and a priest in the Anglican Church in North America, where he serves as the director of the Next Generation Leadership Initiative.
What the Bible Says About Rage
By The Rev. Dr. Esau McCaulley, NY Times June 15, 2020
There are videos of Eric Garner and George Floyd being choked to death by police officers while pleading for their lives. There is a video of Tamir Rice, a 12-year-old boy who was shot to death while playing with a toy gun. There is a video of Ahmaud Arbery, who was hunted and killed while out on a run. There is a video of a police officer mounting and handcuffing Dajerria Becton, 15 years old at the time, at a pool party.
Visible evidence of black suffering is not new. We have photographs of black lynchings. The videos are a reminder that the issue was never about a lack of evidence. They reveal the lengths to which those in power will go to avoid facing the truth. What is happening in those videos is a manifestation of systemic racism — and to acknowledge that would call into question the system that benefits the powerful.
When these videos stack one upon another and are added to our personal slights, a deep unsettling anger rises in the soul of a disinherited and beleaguered people. James Baldwin said, “To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all the time.”
What is the focus of our rage? Are we upset with the police officer who placed his knee on the neck of a man pleading for his life for nearly nine minutes while three fellow officers looked on? Are we mad at the vigilantes who got in a pickup truck to hunt down an unarmed black man? Are we enraged by the white woman who tried to weaponize the police by claiming that a black man who requested that she leash her dog in Central Park was threatening her life? Are we frustrated by the laws and customs that cast a pall over the black experience? Are we wearied with the apathy of so many?
The Bible is not silent about the rage of the oppressed. One of the most startlingly violent passages in the Bible comes from the lips of the disinherited. In Psalm 137 the psalmist says, “Daughter Babylon, doomed to destruction, happy is the one who repays you according to what you have done to us. Happy is the one who seizes your infants and dashes them against the rocks.”
How can wishing such an atrocity be in any sense a religious text? Psalm 137 is a psalm of the traumatized. It depicts the aftermath of the destruction of Jerusalem, the sack of the city, sexual assault and brutalization of the innocent. What kind of song do you write if you are forced to watch the murder of your wife, your child, your neighbor?
Psalm 137 is trauma literature, the rage of those who lived. The question isn’t why the Psalmist wrote this. The question is what kind of song would the families of Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd and Eric Garner be tempted to write after watching the video of their deaths? It would be raw and unfiltered. But more than an expression of rage, this psalm is a written record in time. It is a call to remember. This psalm, and the other psalms of rage, require us to remember the trauma that led to their composition.
The miracle of the Bible is not that it records the rage of the oppressed. The miracle is that it has more to say. The same texts that include a call for vengeance upon Israel’s enemies look to the salvation of its oppressors. Isaiah 49 says, “It is too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes of Jacob and bring back those of Israel I have kept. I will also make you a light for the Gentiles, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.”
For Christians, rage (Psalm 137) must eventually give way to hope (Isaiah 49). And we find the spiritual resources to make this transition at the cross. Jesus could have called down the psalms of rage upon his enemies and shouted a final word of defiance before he breathed his last. Instead he called for forgiveness: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing,” he says in Luke 23.
It was not a false reconciliation: Jesus experienced the reality of state-sponsored terror. That is why the black Christian has always felt a particular kinship with this crucified king from an oppressed ethnic group. The cross helps us make sense of the lynching tree.
And Jesus’ resurrection three days after his crucifixion shows that neither the lynching tree nor the cross have the final say about those whom God values. The state thought that violence could stop God’s purposes. For the Christian, the resurrection makes clear the futility of the attempt. Further, Jesus’ profound act of forgiving his opponents provides me with the theological resources to hope.
Dare we speak of hope when chants of “I can’t breathe” echo in the streets? Do we risk the criticism commonly levied at Christians that we move too quickly to hope because faith pacifies? Resurrection hope doesn’t remove the Christian from the struggle for justice. It empties the state’s greatest weapon — the fear of death — of its power.
Hope is possible if we recognize that it does not rule out justice. It is what separates justice from vengeance. Howard Thurman wrote in his classic work “Jesus and the Disinherited” about how rage, once unleashed, tends to spill out beyond its intended target and consume everything. The hatred of our enemy that we take to the streets returns with us to our friendships, marriages and communities. It damages our own souls.
Christians contend for justice because we care about black lives, families and communities. We contend for reconciliation after the establishment of justice because there must be a future that is more than mutual contempt and suspicion. But justice and reconciliation cannot come at the cost of black lives. The only peaceful future is a just future. And because Christians should be a people for peace, we must be a people for justice even when it seems ever to elude us. Too many black lives have been lost to accept anything else.
Esau McCaulley is an assistant professor of New Testament at Wheaton College and a priest in the Anglican Church in North America, where he serves as the director of the Next Generation Leadership Initiative.
Thursday, June 18
In the wake of profound news of our time, there is a story that is not getting much traction - the challenge of church and state. Just for background information, this article has to do with the Payroll Protection Program which is designed to keep employers from laying off employees. All Angels looked into the PPP but found we do not qualify; not based on separation of church and state but because we were not going to lay off employees.
My undergraduate degree is in Political Science from a Benedictine University. My Roman Catholic academic advisor talked at length about the importance of the separation of church and state as it pertains to the autonomy of churches. Dr. Snyder would say that everything the State does has strings attached - not as an I-owe-you but rather as a marionette to its master so as to influence behavior and receive a desired outcome. As such, I found this article interesting.
Here is the Zoom link. https://zoom.us/j/5955701807
On a different topic, many folks have asked about the story of the Choctaw Indians and their relationship with Ireland from the sermon on Sunday. Here is one of the articles I read to prepare for the message.
https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/05/world/coronavirus-ireland-native-american-tribes.html
May God bless you and watch over you and may the peace of God rest upon our nation,
- Dave
The Quiet Demise of the Separation of Church and State
Nelson Tebbe, Micah Schwartzman and Richard Schragger New York Times, June 8, 2020
The First Amendment’s Establishment Clause prohibits the government from making any law “respecting an establishment of religion.” This has long been thought to prohibit direct government support for religion. The contours of that idea have been contested, and they have contracted over time. But the commitment to some form of separation of church and state has endured.
Yet in response to the coronavirus pandemic, Congress has approved a huge payout to small businesses and nonprofits that allows funding for clergy salaries — a direct payment of tax dollars for a core religious use that would have been unthinkable in previous eras.
Thousands of churches applied for help under the Paycheck Protection Program, and many have had their funding approved. We are witnessing an important moment in the nation’s constitutional history: the quiet demise of the already ailing separation of church and state.
In 1785, James Madison, the chief architect of the Establishment Clause, argued against a Virginia bill that would have paid for clergy salaries with tax dollars, even though it would have supported a relatively wide range of denominations. Madison’s essay making that case was once widely thought to provide the best historical evidence for the meaning of the clause. He believed it was a violation of religious freedom to “force a citizen to contribute three pence only of his property” to pay for the salaries of clergy, a mandate he saw as an “establishment” of religion by the government. Thomas Jefferson made much the same point in his religious freedom bill, which became the law in Virginia.
One hundred and sixty-two years later, in 1947, the Supreme Court evoked Madison’s essay in a seminal Establishment Clause decision, asserting that the clause “means at least this:” That “no tax in any amount, large or small, can be levied to support any religious activities or institutions, whatever they may be called, or whatever form they may adopt to teach or practice religion.”
In that decision, the court in fact upheld a New Jersey program that supported the transportation of students to all schools, including religious schools. But it emphasized that transportation services, like ordinary police and fire protection, were “so separate and so indisputably marked off from the religious function.”
And that was the point: The New Jersey program, unlike the Paycheck Protection Program that helps congregations pay their clergy members, did not directly support a religious mission. It merely provided students attending public and religious schools equal access to affordable transportation.
The Supreme Court reiterated in 2000 that the Establishment Clause prohibits direct funding of religious activities. “Actual diversion” of public support to religious uses “is constitutionally impermissible,” Justice Sandra Day O’Connor wrote. And concerns are heightened when government aid takes the form of cash payments made directly to religious organizations, she emphasized.
Congress’s Paycheck Protection Program flouts this rule. As applied, the program explicitly extends to nonprofits, including churches — with no restrictions on payment of clergy salaries. Although the aid initially takes the form of a loan, it is largely forgivable if the recipient maintains its payroll size for a sufficient period.
The Small Business Administration waived its normal rules prohibiting aid for religious activities. Remarkably, it relied implicitly but unmistakably on a reading of the First Amendment that not only permits cash aid to houses of worship for core religious activities, but requires the government to pay for those activities.
The Paycheck Protection Program violates the constitutional rule requiring the separation of church and state, and it does so on an enormous scale. Nine thousand Catholic parishes have received loans so far. The Archdiocese of Louisville, for example, was awarded more than $20 million across 84 entities, for an average of $238,000 each. One church, St. James parish and school in Elizabethtown, Ky., received loans totaling $439,800.
Moreover, a national survey found that 40 percent of all Protestant churches had applied for government funds and that 59 percent of those applications were approved. The Jewish Federations of North America reported in late April that 575 organizations had received loans, with a median of $250,000 each and a total of $312 million. Recipients included more than 200 synagogues. With 445 entities awaiting word on their applications, the J.F.N.A. estimated that Jewish nonprofits could receive $500 million from the program.
Of course, the rule laid down by Justice O’Connor 20 years ago is vulnerable to revision by the current court, with its conservative majority. At least five justices have signed opinions indicating a willingness to allow public aid that is administered neutrally with respect to religion and that is secular in content. Later this month, the court is expected to decide a funding case in which it has an opportunity to go further and require religious schools to be included in a school choice program. Almost certainly, the court led by Chief Justice John Roberts will continue its campaign to revolutionize First Amendment law so that it favors religious actors.
What is remarkable is not that the federal government is spending tax dollars for religious uses in a way not seen before, or even that it is doing so on a vast scale. It’s how little pushback this program has elicited. With respect to public funding of religion, the separation of church and state has all but disappeared, without a bang or even a whimper.
More than likely, this tacit acceptance reflects compassion for the small businesses and nonprofits struggling during the pandemic. That concern is entirely understandable, especially given that houses of worship, like many other organizations, have been burdened by state public health restrictions. But as Justice David Souter once observed, “constitutional lines have to be drawn, and on one side of every one of them is an otherwise sympathetic case that provokes impatience with the Constitution and with the line.”
Constitutional interpretations forged during times of crisis tend to persist after the danger has eased. That is especially true in this context, where the separation of church and state had already been under sustained attack, making the foundational doctrine all the more vulnerable. In 2002, the Supreme Court ruled that states could indirectly fund religious schools through a voucher program. More recently, the court held that a state cannot exclude religious schools from a grant program for school playgrounds, even when the schools are owned and operated by churches.
Now the core constitutional rule against using taxpayer dollars to pay clergy is slipping away in face of the coronavirus crisis. That should give us pause. The obliteration by Congress and President Trump of a basic principle of separation is a significant development in American constitutional culture.
We should take a moment to reflect on what has happened and to reckon with a new constitutional structure in which the government supports the central missions of religious organizations on a large scale. The entanglement of church and state will bring predictable conflicts: efforts by religious groups to control government and by the government to control religious groups. The risk of government favoritism for some religions over others, and for religion over nonreligion, will be heightened.
In other words, the new church-state paradigm will raise the very dangers that Madison and Jefferson warned of when they articulated principles of religious freedom for our country.
Nelson Tebbe is a professor at Cornell Law School. Micah Schwartzman and Richard Schragger are professors at the University of Virginia School of Law.
My undergraduate degree is in Political Science from a Benedictine University. My Roman Catholic academic advisor talked at length about the importance of the separation of church and state as it pertains to the autonomy of churches. Dr. Snyder would say that everything the State does has strings attached - not as an I-owe-you but rather as a marionette to its master so as to influence behavior and receive a desired outcome. As such, I found this article interesting.
Here is the Zoom link. https://zoom.us/j/5955701807
On a different topic, many folks have asked about the story of the Choctaw Indians and their relationship with Ireland from the sermon on Sunday. Here is one of the articles I read to prepare for the message.
https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/05/world/coronavirus-ireland-native-american-tribes.html
May God bless you and watch over you and may the peace of God rest upon our nation,
- Dave
The Quiet Demise of the Separation of Church and State
Nelson Tebbe, Micah Schwartzman and Richard Schragger New York Times, June 8, 2020
The First Amendment’s Establishment Clause prohibits the government from making any law “respecting an establishment of religion.” This has long been thought to prohibit direct government support for religion. The contours of that idea have been contested, and they have contracted over time. But the commitment to some form of separation of church and state has endured.
Yet in response to the coronavirus pandemic, Congress has approved a huge payout to small businesses and nonprofits that allows funding for clergy salaries — a direct payment of tax dollars for a core religious use that would have been unthinkable in previous eras.
Thousands of churches applied for help under the Paycheck Protection Program, and many have had their funding approved. We are witnessing an important moment in the nation’s constitutional history: the quiet demise of the already ailing separation of church and state.
In 1785, James Madison, the chief architect of the Establishment Clause, argued against a Virginia bill that would have paid for clergy salaries with tax dollars, even though it would have supported a relatively wide range of denominations. Madison’s essay making that case was once widely thought to provide the best historical evidence for the meaning of the clause. He believed it was a violation of religious freedom to “force a citizen to contribute three pence only of his property” to pay for the salaries of clergy, a mandate he saw as an “establishment” of religion by the government. Thomas Jefferson made much the same point in his religious freedom bill, which became the law in Virginia.
One hundred and sixty-two years later, in 1947, the Supreme Court evoked Madison’s essay in a seminal Establishment Clause decision, asserting that the clause “means at least this:” That “no tax in any amount, large or small, can be levied to support any religious activities or institutions, whatever they may be called, or whatever form they may adopt to teach or practice religion.”
In that decision, the court in fact upheld a New Jersey program that supported the transportation of students to all schools, including religious schools. But it emphasized that transportation services, like ordinary police and fire protection, were “so separate and so indisputably marked off from the religious function.”
And that was the point: The New Jersey program, unlike the Paycheck Protection Program that helps congregations pay their clergy members, did not directly support a religious mission. It merely provided students attending public and religious schools equal access to affordable transportation.
The Supreme Court reiterated in 2000 that the Establishment Clause prohibits direct funding of religious activities. “Actual diversion” of public support to religious uses “is constitutionally impermissible,” Justice Sandra Day O’Connor wrote. And concerns are heightened when government aid takes the form of cash payments made directly to religious organizations, she emphasized.
Congress’s Paycheck Protection Program flouts this rule. As applied, the program explicitly extends to nonprofits, including churches — with no restrictions on payment of clergy salaries. Although the aid initially takes the form of a loan, it is largely forgivable if the recipient maintains its payroll size for a sufficient period.
The Small Business Administration waived its normal rules prohibiting aid for religious activities. Remarkably, it relied implicitly but unmistakably on a reading of the First Amendment that not only permits cash aid to houses of worship for core religious activities, but requires the government to pay for those activities.
The Paycheck Protection Program violates the constitutional rule requiring the separation of church and state, and it does so on an enormous scale. Nine thousand Catholic parishes have received loans so far. The Archdiocese of Louisville, for example, was awarded more than $20 million across 84 entities, for an average of $238,000 each. One church, St. James parish and school in Elizabethtown, Ky., received loans totaling $439,800.
Moreover, a national survey found that 40 percent of all Protestant churches had applied for government funds and that 59 percent of those applications were approved. The Jewish Federations of North America reported in late April that 575 organizations had received loans, with a median of $250,000 each and a total of $312 million. Recipients included more than 200 synagogues. With 445 entities awaiting word on their applications, the J.F.N.A. estimated that Jewish nonprofits could receive $500 million from the program.
Of course, the rule laid down by Justice O’Connor 20 years ago is vulnerable to revision by the current court, with its conservative majority. At least five justices have signed opinions indicating a willingness to allow public aid that is administered neutrally with respect to religion and that is secular in content. Later this month, the court is expected to decide a funding case in which it has an opportunity to go further and require religious schools to be included in a school choice program. Almost certainly, the court led by Chief Justice John Roberts will continue its campaign to revolutionize First Amendment law so that it favors religious actors.
What is remarkable is not that the federal government is spending tax dollars for religious uses in a way not seen before, or even that it is doing so on a vast scale. It’s how little pushback this program has elicited. With respect to public funding of religion, the separation of church and state has all but disappeared, without a bang or even a whimper.
More than likely, this tacit acceptance reflects compassion for the small businesses and nonprofits struggling during the pandemic. That concern is entirely understandable, especially given that houses of worship, like many other organizations, have been burdened by state public health restrictions. But as Justice David Souter once observed, “constitutional lines have to be drawn, and on one side of every one of them is an otherwise sympathetic case that provokes impatience with the Constitution and with the line.”
Constitutional interpretations forged during times of crisis tend to persist after the danger has eased. That is especially true in this context, where the separation of church and state had already been under sustained attack, making the foundational doctrine all the more vulnerable. In 2002, the Supreme Court ruled that states could indirectly fund religious schools through a voucher program. More recently, the court held that a state cannot exclude religious schools from a grant program for school playgrounds, even when the schools are owned and operated by churches.
Now the core constitutional rule against using taxpayer dollars to pay clergy is slipping away in face of the coronavirus crisis. That should give us pause. The obliteration by Congress and President Trump of a basic principle of separation is a significant development in American constitutional culture.
We should take a moment to reflect on what has happened and to reckon with a new constitutional structure in which the government supports the central missions of religious organizations on a large scale. The entanglement of church and state will bring predictable conflicts: efforts by religious groups to control government and by the government to control religious groups. The risk of government favoritism for some religions over others, and for religion over nonreligion, will be heightened.
In other words, the new church-state paradigm will raise the very dangers that Madison and Jefferson warned of when they articulated principles of religious freedom for our country.
Nelson Tebbe is a professor at Cornell Law School. Micah Schwartzman and Richard Schragger are professors at the University of Virginia School of Law.
Thursday, June 11
My subscription to the Wall Street Journal has ended because I have a new credit card. Unfortunately, WSJ's system is down so I can't resubscribe; yet. The story I was going to share this week was an NBC News/WSJ poll that said 80% of Americans feel the U.S. is out of control. God works in mysterious ways. I read this article in the Atlantic and felt much better about the state of our country. Hopefully you will too.
There is a lot to discuss this week. I look forward to chatting with you.
-Dave
Here is the Zoom discussion link.
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/5955701807
This Upheaval Is How America Gets Better
Kori Schake, The Atlantic 6.8.20
This is an extraordinarily tense moment in the United States. Currently on display are police brutality, racism, a president fanning the flames and threatening to use force against peaceful protesters, and a Defense Department leadership initially complicit in using the military for partisan purposes. The head of the venerable Council on Foreign Relations considers the U.S. a “power in retreat.” Some American commentators compare the protests to uprisings against Middle East dictators, because in both cases, protesters believe that, as the writer Steven A. Cook has put it, “political institutions of the state and the prevailing social orders had combined to rob them of their dignity.” American diplomats are evidently struggling to justify our country as a functioning democracy.
Here’s how diplomats should justify our democracy: by recognizing that we are now seeing America becoming better than it was. This churning, disputatious, and even sometimes violent dynamic is what social change in America looks like. And what it has always looked like.
As the former U.S. poet laureate Robert Pinsky once wrote, “American culture as I have experienced it seems so much in process, so brilliantly and sometimes brutally in motion, that standard models for it fail to apply.” This is what the American public is witnessing. Yes, recent events do bear similarities to when exasperated people in Tunisia and Egypt lashed out at their governments. And it’s scary to be part of. Our politicians are no less venal than politicians elsewhere. But what is different from the sorrowfully unsuccessful efforts to change government behavior elsewhere is the distributed system of political power in these United States, the vibrancy of a civil society that knows its rights, and the willingness of so many Americans to acknowledge the nation’s failings and take responsibility for improving society.
America’s standing in the world was damaged by Jim Crow, a segregated military fighting World War II, resistance to school integrations, the My Lai massacre, and the torture of prisoners after 9/11. Americans are not good at getting things right at the outset; we are good at making things right over time. White Americans are being challenged to accept responsibility for allowing black Americans to live in fear of police brutality. This raising of consciousness will change the U.S. as a country, and well it should.
Police in Buffalo that shoved and injured an elderly man have been suspended. The Army is investigating the aircrew of a helicopter, bearing medical insignia, that hovered dangerously over a crowd in Washington, D.C. The Justice Department is being sued for its decision to aggressively clear peaceful protesters from Lafayette Square, near the White House. The government of the District of Columbia painted Black Lives Matter down the middle of the street leading to the White House. Businesses are falling over themselves to be associated with racialjustice efforts.
Far from being a bludgeon of the state, the U.S. military is reinforcing its fealty to the Constitution rather than the president and modeling how to amplify black voices. The Air Force chief of staff flatly stated, “Every American should be outraged that the conduct exhibited by police in Minneapolis can still happen in 2020.” Months before the protests, the commandant of
the Marine Corps banned any display of Confederate symbols. And since the Lafayette Square disgrace, the secretary of defense and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff have scrambled to put themselves on the side of restraint in the face of peaceful protests. These developments are a beautiful reminder that the American military is part of a broader civilian society, not a repressive force.
The U.S. isn’t the only country where racism is a persistent problem. It’s not the only country where police have immunity to prey on their fellow citizens. It’s not the only country where the government would expand its powers and evade accountability if it could. Recent protests in Amsterdam, London, and elsewhere show that what happens in America matters for the advance of human rights and civil liberties elsewhere. Even when its citizens struggle and stumble, the U.S. is still the world’s best hope for advancing the truths we hold to be self-evident.
When the governments of Germany, Australia, and—astonishingly—Turkey call on the U.S. to respect press freedom, it is an embarrassment. But many Americans welcome their condemnation to support our common commitment to unfettered freedom of the press. Americans are strong enough to bear the hypocrisy of Turkey’s criticism and honest enough to absorb what Australia and Germany are telling us.
Many authoritarian governments have long tried to deal with dissatisfaction among their own citizens by stoking criticism of their external rivals, and America’s current turmoil provides such an opportunity. But while propagandists in Beijing may revel in decrying racism in America, how many law-enforcement officers in China would join hands and march with protesters, as the police chiefs of San Antonio and other cities have? Who in the Chinese military would kneel in front of protesters to acknowledge the justice of their cause, as members of the National Guard have in the U.S.?
Our struggles are the world’s struggles, because the values that form our republic are universal values. We believe that people have inherent rights and allow governments to curtail them in limited ways only for agreed purposes. What protesters are demanding right now is equal justice before the law, and making that principle a reality for black Americans will be a victory for human rights everywhere.
The Marquis de Lafayette, for whom the square in Washington is named, was a great friend to the U.S. “The welfare of America is bound closely to the welfare of all humanity,” he once wrote to his wife. “She is to become the honored and safe asylum of liberty.” By arguing and protesting and suing the government, Americans are trying to prove Lafayette right. This is American progress in the making.
There is a lot to discuss this week. I look forward to chatting with you.
-Dave
Here is the Zoom discussion link.
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/5955701807
This Upheaval Is How America Gets Better
Kori Schake, The Atlantic 6.8.20
This is an extraordinarily tense moment in the United States. Currently on display are police brutality, racism, a president fanning the flames and threatening to use force against peaceful protesters, and a Defense Department leadership initially complicit in using the military for partisan purposes. The head of the venerable Council on Foreign Relations considers the U.S. a “power in retreat.” Some American commentators compare the protests to uprisings against Middle East dictators, because in both cases, protesters believe that, as the writer Steven A. Cook has put it, “political institutions of the state and the prevailing social orders had combined to rob them of their dignity.” American diplomats are evidently struggling to justify our country as a functioning democracy.
Here’s how diplomats should justify our democracy: by recognizing that we are now seeing America becoming better than it was. This churning, disputatious, and even sometimes violent dynamic is what social change in America looks like. And what it has always looked like.
As the former U.S. poet laureate Robert Pinsky once wrote, “American culture as I have experienced it seems so much in process, so brilliantly and sometimes brutally in motion, that standard models for it fail to apply.” This is what the American public is witnessing. Yes, recent events do bear similarities to when exasperated people in Tunisia and Egypt lashed out at their governments. And it’s scary to be part of. Our politicians are no less venal than politicians elsewhere. But what is different from the sorrowfully unsuccessful efforts to change government behavior elsewhere is the distributed system of political power in these United States, the vibrancy of a civil society that knows its rights, and the willingness of so many Americans to acknowledge the nation’s failings and take responsibility for improving society.
America’s standing in the world was damaged by Jim Crow, a segregated military fighting World War II, resistance to school integrations, the My Lai massacre, and the torture of prisoners after 9/11. Americans are not good at getting things right at the outset; we are good at making things right over time. White Americans are being challenged to accept responsibility for allowing black Americans to live in fear of police brutality. This raising of consciousness will change the U.S. as a country, and well it should.
Police in Buffalo that shoved and injured an elderly man have been suspended. The Army is investigating the aircrew of a helicopter, bearing medical insignia, that hovered dangerously over a crowd in Washington, D.C. The Justice Department is being sued for its decision to aggressively clear peaceful protesters from Lafayette Square, near the White House. The government of the District of Columbia painted Black Lives Matter down the middle of the street leading to the White House. Businesses are falling over themselves to be associated with racialjustice efforts.
Far from being a bludgeon of the state, the U.S. military is reinforcing its fealty to the Constitution rather than the president and modeling how to amplify black voices. The Air Force chief of staff flatly stated, “Every American should be outraged that the conduct exhibited by police in Minneapolis can still happen in 2020.” Months before the protests, the commandant of
the Marine Corps banned any display of Confederate symbols. And since the Lafayette Square disgrace, the secretary of defense and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff have scrambled to put themselves on the side of restraint in the face of peaceful protests. These developments are a beautiful reminder that the American military is part of a broader civilian society, not a repressive force.
The U.S. isn’t the only country where racism is a persistent problem. It’s not the only country where police have immunity to prey on their fellow citizens. It’s not the only country where the government would expand its powers and evade accountability if it could. Recent protests in Amsterdam, London, and elsewhere show that what happens in America matters for the advance of human rights and civil liberties elsewhere. Even when its citizens struggle and stumble, the U.S. is still the world’s best hope for advancing the truths we hold to be self-evident.
When the governments of Germany, Australia, and—astonishingly—Turkey call on the U.S. to respect press freedom, it is an embarrassment. But many Americans welcome their condemnation to support our common commitment to unfettered freedom of the press. Americans are strong enough to bear the hypocrisy of Turkey’s criticism and honest enough to absorb what Australia and Germany are telling us.
Many authoritarian governments have long tried to deal with dissatisfaction among their own citizens by stoking criticism of their external rivals, and America’s current turmoil provides such an opportunity. But while propagandists in Beijing may revel in decrying racism in America, how many law-enforcement officers in China would join hands and march with protesters, as the police chiefs of San Antonio and other cities have? Who in the Chinese military would kneel in front of protesters to acknowledge the justice of their cause, as members of the National Guard have in the U.S.?
Our struggles are the world’s struggles, because the values that form our republic are universal values. We believe that people have inherent rights and allow governments to curtail them in limited ways only for agreed purposes. What protesters are demanding right now is equal justice before the law, and making that principle a reality for black Americans will be a victory for human rights everywhere.
The Marquis de Lafayette, for whom the square in Washington is named, was a great friend to the U.S. “The welfare of America is bound closely to the welfare of all humanity,” he once wrote to his wife. “She is to become the honored and safe asylum of liberty.” By arguing and protesting and suing the government, Americans are trying to prove Lafayette right. This is American progress in the making.
Thursday, June 4
If you had told me last Monday that this Monday, June 1st, the top story would not be the pandemic and, in fact, no mention of the Corona Virus would be mentioned in the morning national news until the second hour, I would have figured that either a vaccination was discovered on Tuesday, or, some country invaded us. What a tumultuous week, and weekend, it has been. And, who knows what this week holds.
I think it is time to talk about it. Attached is a Word to the Church - When the Cameras Are Gone, We Will Still Be Here - from our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, as well as a card that he mentioned in the piece.
Here is the Zoom discussion link.
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/5955701807
If you are unable to be a part of the discussion groups - men's discussion Tuesday at 10 am or the women's discussion Thursday at 9 am - but would like to talk with me about it, give me a call, 941-704-2131 or email me, dave@allangelslbk.org.
God's peace to you, to your family, and to our country.
Presiding Bishop Michael Curry’s Word to the Church: When the Cameras are Gone, We Will Still Be Here
May 30, 2020
A word to the Church from Presiding Bishop Michael Curry: “Our long-term commitment to racial justice and reconciliation is embedded in our identity as baptized followers of Jesus. We will still be doing it when the news cameras are long gone.” In the midst of COVID-19 and the pressure cooker of a society in turmoil, a Minnesota man named George Floyd was brutally killed. His basic human dignity was stripped by someone charged to protect our common humanity. Perhaps the deeper pain is the fact that this was not an isolated incident. It happened to Breonna Taylor on March 13 in Kentucky. It happened to Ahmaud Arbery on February 23 in Georgia. Racial terror in this form occurred when I was a teenager growing up black in Buffalo, New York. It extends back to the lynching of Emmett Till in 1955 and well before that. It’s not just our present or our history. It is part of the fabric of American life. But we need not be paralyzed by our past or our present. We are not slaves to fate but people of faith. Our long-term commitment to racial justice and reconciliation is embedded in our identity as baptized followers of Jesus. We will still be doing it when the news cameras are long gone. That work of racial reconciliation and justice – what we know as Becoming Beloved Community – is happening across our Episcopal Church. It is happening in Minnesota and in the Dioceses of Kentucky, Georgia and Atlanta, across America and around the world. That mission matters now more than ever, and it is work that belongs to all of us. It must go on when racist violence and police brutality are no longer front-page news. It must go on when the work is not fashionable, and the way seems hard, and we feel utterly alone. It is the difficult labor of picking up the cross of Jesus like Simon of Cyrene, and carrying it until no one – no matter their color, no matter their class, no matter their caste – until no child of God is degraded and disrespected by anybody. That is God's dream, this is our work, and we shall not cease until God's dream is realized.
Is this hopelessly naïve? No, the vision of God’s dream is no idealistic utopia. It is our only real hope. And, St. Paul says, “hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit” (Romans 5:5). Real love is the dogged commitment to live my life in the most unselfish, even sacrificial ways; to love God, love my neighbor, love the earth and truly love myself. Perhaps most difficult in times like this, it is even love for my enemy. That is why we cannot condone violence. Violence against any person – conducted by some police officers or by some protesters – is violence against a child of God created in God’s image. No, as followers of Christ, we do not condone violence. Neither do we condone our nation’s collective, complicit silence in the face of injustice and violent death. The anger of so many on our streets is born out of the accumulated frustration that so few seem to care when another black, brown or native life is snuffed out. But there is another way. In the parable of the Good Samaritan, a broken man lay on the side of the road. The religious leaders who passed were largely indifferent. Only the Samaritan saw the wounded stranger and acted. He provided medical care and housing. He made provision for this stranger’s well-being. He helped and healed a fellow child of God. Love, as Jesus teaches, is action like this as well as attitude. It seeks the good, the well-being, and the welfare of others as well as one’s self. That way of real love is the only way there is. Accompanying this statement is a card describing ways to practice the Way of Love in the midst of pandemic, uncertainty and loss. In addition, you will find online a set of resources to help Episcopalians to LEARN, PRAY & ACT in response to racist violence and police brutality. That resource set includes faithful tools for listening to and learning from communities too often ignored or suppressed, for incorporating God’s vision of justice into your personal and community prayer life, and for positively and constructively engaging in advocacy and public witness. Opening and changing hearts does not happen overnight. The Christian race is not a sprint; it is a marathon. Our prayers and our work for justice, healing and truthtelling must be unceasing. Let us recommit ourselves to following in the footsteps of Jesus, the way that leads to healing, justice and love.
what_does_love_do_during_a_pandemic.pdf
I think it is time to talk about it. Attached is a Word to the Church - When the Cameras Are Gone, We Will Still Be Here - from our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, as well as a card that he mentioned in the piece.
Here is the Zoom discussion link.
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/5955701807
If you are unable to be a part of the discussion groups - men's discussion Tuesday at 10 am or the women's discussion Thursday at 9 am - but would like to talk with me about it, give me a call, 941-704-2131 or email me, dave@allangelslbk.org.
God's peace to you, to your family, and to our country.
Presiding Bishop Michael Curry’s Word to the Church: When the Cameras are Gone, We Will Still Be Here
May 30, 2020
A word to the Church from Presiding Bishop Michael Curry: “Our long-term commitment to racial justice and reconciliation is embedded in our identity as baptized followers of Jesus. We will still be doing it when the news cameras are long gone.” In the midst of COVID-19 and the pressure cooker of a society in turmoil, a Minnesota man named George Floyd was brutally killed. His basic human dignity was stripped by someone charged to protect our common humanity. Perhaps the deeper pain is the fact that this was not an isolated incident. It happened to Breonna Taylor on March 13 in Kentucky. It happened to Ahmaud Arbery on February 23 in Georgia. Racial terror in this form occurred when I was a teenager growing up black in Buffalo, New York. It extends back to the lynching of Emmett Till in 1955 and well before that. It’s not just our present or our history. It is part of the fabric of American life. But we need not be paralyzed by our past or our present. We are not slaves to fate but people of faith. Our long-term commitment to racial justice and reconciliation is embedded in our identity as baptized followers of Jesus. We will still be doing it when the news cameras are long gone. That work of racial reconciliation and justice – what we know as Becoming Beloved Community – is happening across our Episcopal Church. It is happening in Minnesota and in the Dioceses of Kentucky, Georgia and Atlanta, across America and around the world. That mission matters now more than ever, and it is work that belongs to all of us. It must go on when racist violence and police brutality are no longer front-page news. It must go on when the work is not fashionable, and the way seems hard, and we feel utterly alone. It is the difficult labor of picking up the cross of Jesus like Simon of Cyrene, and carrying it until no one – no matter their color, no matter their class, no matter their caste – until no child of God is degraded and disrespected by anybody. That is God's dream, this is our work, and we shall not cease until God's dream is realized.
Is this hopelessly naïve? No, the vision of God’s dream is no idealistic utopia. It is our only real hope. And, St. Paul says, “hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit” (Romans 5:5). Real love is the dogged commitment to live my life in the most unselfish, even sacrificial ways; to love God, love my neighbor, love the earth and truly love myself. Perhaps most difficult in times like this, it is even love for my enemy. That is why we cannot condone violence. Violence against any person – conducted by some police officers or by some protesters – is violence against a child of God created in God’s image. No, as followers of Christ, we do not condone violence. Neither do we condone our nation’s collective, complicit silence in the face of injustice and violent death. The anger of so many on our streets is born out of the accumulated frustration that so few seem to care when another black, brown or native life is snuffed out. But there is another way. In the parable of the Good Samaritan, a broken man lay on the side of the road. The religious leaders who passed were largely indifferent. Only the Samaritan saw the wounded stranger and acted. He provided medical care and housing. He made provision for this stranger’s well-being. He helped and healed a fellow child of God. Love, as Jesus teaches, is action like this as well as attitude. It seeks the good, the well-being, and the welfare of others as well as one’s self. That way of real love is the only way there is. Accompanying this statement is a card describing ways to practice the Way of Love in the midst of pandemic, uncertainty and loss. In addition, you will find online a set of resources to help Episcopalians to LEARN, PRAY & ACT in response to racist violence and police brutality. That resource set includes faithful tools for listening to and learning from communities too often ignored or suppressed, for incorporating God’s vision of justice into your personal and community prayer life, and for positively and constructively engaging in advocacy and public witness. Opening and changing hearts does not happen overnight. The Christian race is not a sprint; it is a marathon. Our prayers and our work for justice, healing and truthtelling must be unceasing. Let us recommit ourselves to following in the footsteps of Jesus, the way that leads to healing, justice and love.
what_does_love_do_during_a_pandemic.pdf
Thursday, May 28
Hello! Attached are the readings for our discussion groups this week. The topic is about Covid-19 and Church. I have included a number of readings; you are not required to read all of them to participate in the discussion; so that you can see what material is out there to read. The one I'd like to start with is the Roman Catholic Church in Orange County (CA). There is another story from the Washington Post about what happens when churches open "too quickly." There is a very good report from the CDC that goes into depth about what happened at "Church A" when they allowed public services. It is a very long read, and you certainly do not need to read all of it, but at least you'll get to see what I am reading. Lastly, I included my Reflection from last week about Safe Church.
May God bless you and surround you with the peace of Christ.
Men on Tuesday at 10 am and Women at 9 am on Thursday.
Here is the link: https://us02web.zoom.us/j/5955701807
Looking forward to seeing you on Zoom,
- Dave
Catholic Church Plans to Open in Small Steps on June 14
Alex Wigglesworth, Los Angeles Times
May 23, 2020
The Roman Catholic Diocese of Orange announced plans for public Masses to resume in phases in Orange County starting June 14. The first phase includes allowing small groups of healthy people to gather for limited Mass, church officials said Friday in a news release. The second phase will allow for larger groups; the third will permit choirs and social gatherings. All phases will require participants to follow strict guidelines for social distancing and disinfection, officials said.
“The pandemic is far from over, so we will begin with small steps,” said Diocese of Orange Bishop Kevin Vann in a statement. “Realizing that reinfection is a concern, as we saw occurred in Texas and elsewhere, I am asking our pastors to prepare their churches to ensure that these guidelines are followed without exception.”
On Saturday, officials announced that Orange County has been approved by the state to mount a more aggressive reopening of local businesses.
Gov. Gavin Newsom has vowed to provide plans on reopening churches Monday, after previously saying such reopenings were just “a few weeks away.” In Orange County, the bishop’s advisors have been working on reopening guidelines for weeks, in consultation with county officials and medical experts, the release said. Those over 65 or who have an underlying health condition will be encouraged not to return when churches initially reopen, as will anyone who is sick or lives with someone who is sick. Holy water fonts will remain empty, hymnals will be removed, and people will be instructed not to touch one another, including during greetings. Church rituals that require touching, like the sign of peace, will be suspended. In most cases, churches will be required to limit their capacity to one-third of normal attendance, officials said. More Masses will be offered than usual, and people will be encouraged to come throughout the week to avoid crowding on Sundays. Vann extended a dispensation from the obligation to attend Mass on Sunday to permit the shift. The bishop also granted a temporary dispensation allowing priests to celebrate Mass outside of church buildings, including in gyms, parish halls and outdoor spaces.
Officials said Catholics should check parish websites for specific instructions on how Masses will be held and when attendance will be allowed.
Los Angeles Archbishop José H. Gómez said church service for now remains only via the internet. “I think it’s clear to all of us that it might be possible in the coming future to be able to open physically the churches and receive parishioners to come. It’s not going to be the same in the beginning, because there is the reality of the social distance and also making sure that the churches are sanitized and people are protected when they come to church,” Gomez said in a statement Saturday. “And I insist that that’s the most important thing — that we protect one another. We know that God is with us, but at the same time we have to be careful and make sure that we protect each other in this challenging time," he added. “So, let us keep praying. Let us keep working together."
Two churches reclose after faith leaders and congregants get coronavirus
Lateshia Beachum, Washington Post
May 19, 2020
Churches in states at the forefront of reopening efforts are closing their doors for a second time. Catoosa Baptist Tabernacle in Ringgold, Ga., less than 20 miles away from Chattanooga, Tenn., and Holy Ghost Catholic Church in Houston have indefinitely suspended services after members and leaders tested positive for the coronavirus shortly after reopening. The news of the canceled services comes as a new report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention stated that large gatherings pose risk for coronavirus transmission and called on faith-based organizations to work with local health officials about implementing guidelines for modified activities. The report looked at a rural Arkansas church, where a pastor and his wife attended church events in early March. At least 35 of 92 attendees tested positive for the coronavirus, and three people died. An additional 26 cases and a death occurred in the community from contact with the church cases, the report confirmed. The report underscores the difficulty believers and faith leaders face as the need for the comfort of in-person worship grows stronger and lawmakers yield to a public growing tired of physical distancing measures. The First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints released a letter to its general and local leaders on Tuesday that gives a
detailed phased-in approach to worship services. Local Mormon leaders must work the faith’s governing bodies to determine the time and
location of meetings, which can now resume on a limited basis. Church officials will adhere to local government regulations in their phased-in approach to resuming normal activities. Catoosa Baptist Tabernacle picked up its services following its state’s lead. In-person services resumed April 26, just days after Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp allowed fitness centers, bowling alleys and salons to reopen, the Christian Post reported. The day after the church reopened for in-person worship, Kemp allowed private social clubs and restaurants to reopen under certain restrictions. The decision for Catoosa Baptist Tabernacle to shutter its doors again is a result of several families in the congregation testing positive for the virus, despite the church’s caution to space seating six feet apart and to have its doors open to prevent frequent touching of doorknobs.
Around 25 percent of Catoosa Baptist Tabernacle members attended in-person service while the majority remained home and streamed services, according to the outlet. Locking its doors for the second time is an act of “extreme caution,” according to the church. “Our hearts are heavy as some of our families are dealing with the effects of the COVID-19 virus, and we ask for your prayers for each of them as they follow the prescribed protocol and recuperate at home,” the church said in a formal statement, according to the Christian Post. The church did not specify the number of families affected by the virus, according to the outlet.
Holy Ghost parish had suspended services even though Texas Gov. Greg Abbott’s stay-at- home order for April 2 to April 30 had exempted places of worship, ABC News reported. The Archdiocese of Galveston-Houston had stopped weekday and Sunday Mass services on
March 18 and only allowed parishes to be open for parishioners seeking prayer, according to the outlet. Holy Ghost parish’s May 2 reopening happened around the time businesses and restaurants unlocked their doors for patrons. The archdiocese permitted its churches to restart services with the expectation that they follow state recommendations for reopening, according to ABC News.
The parish’s 900-seat building downsized the number of churchgoers for Sunday Mass to 179, according to the church in a statement. The May 2 service involved two priests who have since tested positive for the coronavirus. Three members of the church’s Redemptorists religious community were also confirmed to have the virus. “We ask you to please keep everyone impacted by this illness in your prayers,” the church said in a statement. The members who tested positive are asymptomatic and are quarantined, but those who attended the May 2 service are encouraged to monitor their health as a precautionary measure, according to the church. The choice to cease all services for an unspecified amount of time came a day after the Rev. Donnell Kirchner, a priest at the church, died on May 13, of what is believed to be covid-19,
the disease caused by the virus, according to ABC News. Kirchner was diagnosed with pneumonia before dying at the home he shared with others members of the Redemptorists religious order. It is unknown if he was tested for the coronavirus at the urgent care or emergency room he visited before being sent home with medication, according to church officials. Harris County, where the church is located, has the highest number of positive coronavirus cases in the state, ABC News reported.
reflection_safe_church_5.21.20.docx
covid-19_attack_rate_at_church_events.pdf
May God bless you and surround you with the peace of Christ.
Men on Tuesday at 10 am and Women at 9 am on Thursday.
Here is the link: https://us02web.zoom.us/j/5955701807
Looking forward to seeing you on Zoom,
- Dave
Catholic Church Plans to Open in Small Steps on June 14
Alex Wigglesworth, Los Angeles Times
May 23, 2020
The Roman Catholic Diocese of Orange announced plans for public Masses to resume in phases in Orange County starting June 14. The first phase includes allowing small groups of healthy people to gather for limited Mass, church officials said Friday in a news release. The second phase will allow for larger groups; the third will permit choirs and social gatherings. All phases will require participants to follow strict guidelines for social distancing and disinfection, officials said.
“The pandemic is far from over, so we will begin with small steps,” said Diocese of Orange Bishop Kevin Vann in a statement. “Realizing that reinfection is a concern, as we saw occurred in Texas and elsewhere, I am asking our pastors to prepare their churches to ensure that these guidelines are followed without exception.”
On Saturday, officials announced that Orange County has been approved by the state to mount a more aggressive reopening of local businesses.
Gov. Gavin Newsom has vowed to provide plans on reopening churches Monday, after previously saying such reopenings were just “a few weeks away.” In Orange County, the bishop’s advisors have been working on reopening guidelines for weeks, in consultation with county officials and medical experts, the release said. Those over 65 or who have an underlying health condition will be encouraged not to return when churches initially reopen, as will anyone who is sick or lives with someone who is sick. Holy water fonts will remain empty, hymnals will be removed, and people will be instructed not to touch one another, including during greetings. Church rituals that require touching, like the sign of peace, will be suspended. In most cases, churches will be required to limit their capacity to one-third of normal attendance, officials said. More Masses will be offered than usual, and people will be encouraged to come throughout the week to avoid crowding on Sundays. Vann extended a dispensation from the obligation to attend Mass on Sunday to permit the shift. The bishop also granted a temporary dispensation allowing priests to celebrate Mass outside of church buildings, including in gyms, parish halls and outdoor spaces.
Officials said Catholics should check parish websites for specific instructions on how Masses will be held and when attendance will be allowed.
Los Angeles Archbishop José H. Gómez said church service for now remains only via the internet. “I think it’s clear to all of us that it might be possible in the coming future to be able to open physically the churches and receive parishioners to come. It’s not going to be the same in the beginning, because there is the reality of the social distance and also making sure that the churches are sanitized and people are protected when they come to church,” Gomez said in a statement Saturday. “And I insist that that’s the most important thing — that we protect one another. We know that God is with us, but at the same time we have to be careful and make sure that we protect each other in this challenging time," he added. “So, let us keep praying. Let us keep working together."
Two churches reclose after faith leaders and congregants get coronavirus
Lateshia Beachum, Washington Post
May 19, 2020
Churches in states at the forefront of reopening efforts are closing their doors for a second time. Catoosa Baptist Tabernacle in Ringgold, Ga., less than 20 miles away from Chattanooga, Tenn., and Holy Ghost Catholic Church in Houston have indefinitely suspended services after members and leaders tested positive for the coronavirus shortly after reopening. The news of the canceled services comes as a new report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention stated that large gatherings pose risk for coronavirus transmission and called on faith-based organizations to work with local health officials about implementing guidelines for modified activities. The report looked at a rural Arkansas church, where a pastor and his wife attended church events in early March. At least 35 of 92 attendees tested positive for the coronavirus, and three people died. An additional 26 cases and a death occurred in the community from contact with the church cases, the report confirmed. The report underscores the difficulty believers and faith leaders face as the need for the comfort of in-person worship grows stronger and lawmakers yield to a public growing tired of physical distancing measures. The First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints released a letter to its general and local leaders on Tuesday that gives a
detailed phased-in approach to worship services. Local Mormon leaders must work the faith’s governing bodies to determine the time and
location of meetings, which can now resume on a limited basis. Church officials will adhere to local government regulations in their phased-in approach to resuming normal activities. Catoosa Baptist Tabernacle picked up its services following its state’s lead. In-person services resumed April 26, just days after Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp allowed fitness centers, bowling alleys and salons to reopen, the Christian Post reported. The day after the church reopened for in-person worship, Kemp allowed private social clubs and restaurants to reopen under certain restrictions. The decision for Catoosa Baptist Tabernacle to shutter its doors again is a result of several families in the congregation testing positive for the virus, despite the church’s caution to space seating six feet apart and to have its doors open to prevent frequent touching of doorknobs.
Around 25 percent of Catoosa Baptist Tabernacle members attended in-person service while the majority remained home and streamed services, according to the outlet. Locking its doors for the second time is an act of “extreme caution,” according to the church. “Our hearts are heavy as some of our families are dealing with the effects of the COVID-19 virus, and we ask for your prayers for each of them as they follow the prescribed protocol and recuperate at home,” the church said in a formal statement, according to the Christian Post. The church did not specify the number of families affected by the virus, according to the outlet.
Holy Ghost parish had suspended services even though Texas Gov. Greg Abbott’s stay-at- home order for April 2 to April 30 had exempted places of worship, ABC News reported. The Archdiocese of Galveston-Houston had stopped weekday and Sunday Mass services on
March 18 and only allowed parishes to be open for parishioners seeking prayer, according to the outlet. Holy Ghost parish’s May 2 reopening happened around the time businesses and restaurants unlocked their doors for patrons. The archdiocese permitted its churches to restart services with the expectation that they follow state recommendations for reopening, according to ABC News.
The parish’s 900-seat building downsized the number of churchgoers for Sunday Mass to 179, according to the church in a statement. The May 2 service involved two priests who have since tested positive for the coronavirus. Three members of the church’s Redemptorists religious community were also confirmed to have the virus. “We ask you to please keep everyone impacted by this illness in your prayers,” the church said in a statement. The members who tested positive are asymptomatic and are quarantined, but those who attended the May 2 service are encouraged to monitor their health as a precautionary measure, according to the church. The choice to cease all services for an unspecified amount of time came a day after the Rev. Donnell Kirchner, a priest at the church, died on May 13, of what is believed to be covid-19,
the disease caused by the virus, according to ABC News. Kirchner was diagnosed with pneumonia before dying at the home he shared with others members of the Redemptorists religious order. It is unknown if he was tested for the coronavirus at the urgent care or emergency room he visited before being sent home with medication, according to church officials. Harris County, where the church is located, has the highest number of positive coronavirus cases in the state, ABC News reported.
reflection_safe_church_5.21.20.docx
covid-19_attack_rate_at_church_events.pdf
Thursday, May 21
There is an argument going on in Christianity - can a loving God send people to hell? This article helps to articulate both sides of the issue. ... and it has nothing to do with the pandemic. Yay!
Looking forward to seeing you on Zoom,
- Dave
Bart Ehrman’s Latest Attack on Christianity The Gospel Coalition April 13, Randy Alcorn
[Bart Ehrman is professor of religious studies at University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. He also teaches eight of The Great Courses’s widely acclaimed Bible and Christianity classes, and has a part in 78 others. The subtitles of Ehrman’s books, including his five New York Times bestsellers, capture his premises: e.g., Misquoting Jesus: The Story Behind Who Changed the Bible and Why, How Jesus Became God: the Exaltation of a Jewish Preacher from Galilee, and Forged: Writing in the Name of God—Why the Bible’s Authors Are Not Who We Think They Are.]
Whenever I read an Ehrman book, déjà vu kicks in. His core message is always: “Christians are dead wrong; I know because I used to be one before I became enlightened.” Each of Ehrman’s books deals with something else Christians are wrong about; and his newest, Heaven and Hell: A History of the Afterlife, is another volume in his expanding canon of deconversion doctrine.
Ehrman speaks with the authoritative tone of a historian-philosopher, a wise sage, unfolding humanity’s preoccupation with death and the fear of death. Beginning with the Epic of Gilgamesh, he then examines Homer, Virgil, Plato, and other ancients. Along the way he interjects his belief that there’s no need to fear death, since it’s simply ceasing to exist (the very thing many people fear).
Arriving at the Bible, simply one more myth to Ehrman, he presents what he calls the “older Hebrew view” that death is the final end, followed by nonexistence. He then addresses the “later Hebrew position” on resurrection and Judgment Day from the intertestamental era.
While he says little to refute pre-Christian views, once Ehrman gets to the historic Christian view of the afterlife, he conducts an all-out verbal siege. But he doesn’t rant and rave; he calmly presents his assertions, such as that Jesus and Paul disagreed on much, including the way of salvation, but shared a disbelief in an eternal hell. He says both of them, and the author of Revelation (whom he’s certain wasn’t the apostle John), taught annihilationism. He simply ignores or reinterprets passages to the contrary (e.g. Isa. 66:24; Dan. 12:2; Matt. 25:41, 46; Mark 9:43, 48; 2 Thess. 1:9; Jude 7, 13; Rev. 14:9–11; 20:10, 14– 15).
Interestingly, though Ehrman doesn’t believe there is a heaven, he leaves room for its possibility:
I certainly don’t think the notion of a happy afterlife is as irrational as the fires of hell; at least it does not contradict the notion of a benevolent creative force behind the universe. So I’m completely open to the idea and deep down even hopeful about it. But I have to say that at the end of the day I really don’t believe it either. (294)
However, Ehrman is certain he isn’t wrong about hell:
Are we really to think that God is some kind of transcendent sadist intent on torturing people (or at least willing to allow them to be tortured) for all eternity, a divine being infinitely more vengeful than anyone who has ever existed? (293–94)
At the end of the book Ehrman quotes from ex-evangelical Rob Bell:
In [universalism], the love of God knows no bounds and cannot be overcome. . . . In the words of one modern Christian author, once himself a committed evangelical with a passion for the biblical witness, in the end “Love Wins.”
Ehrman seems to offer universalism as a backup position to his naturalistic worldview. He’s saying, “I don’t believe in an afterlife, but if there is one then everyone will be in heaven.”
He goes on to essentially applaud the rise of universalism in Christian churches: “Harkening back to Origen, and Paul before him, these committed believers maintain that in the end no one will be able to resist the love of God. . . . Everyone will be saved.”
Opinion Isn’t Proof
I admire Ehrman’s skill as a persuasive communicator. Were he a lawyer he could take either side in any case and would likely persuade the jury. (Hence the vulnerability of uninformed Christians who read his books.) Yet Ehrman frequently states what he believes as if opinion constitutes proof. For instance, he emphatically says, “There was a time in human history when no one on the planet believed that there would be a judgment day at the end of time” (8). Really? No one? Does he have private access to an ancient poll taken of every living person?
Ehrman, after denying the Old Testament ever speaks of resurrection, explains in a footnote: Some readers may wonder why I am not contrasting this view of Job with the famous passage of Job 19:25–26: “For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God” (ESV).
Ehrman negates Job by citing a Jewish scholar who says, “The text has been garbled and we cannot tell exactly what Job intended to say.” This scholar adds, “Job is almost certainly not talking about seeing God in the afterlife.” I consulted 12 major translations by different teams of Hebrew scholars, some of whom don’t hold to biblical inerrancy. Their translations contain only minor differences. All of them suggest Job is indeed speaking of seeing God in the afterlife.
This is just one example of Ehrman’s practice of either: (1) inaccurately conveying what the Bible says; (2) accurately conveying what the Bible says, then declaring it’s wrong; (3) arguing the text really doesn’t say what Christians believe it says (why does that matter if what it really says is also wrong?); and (4) citing Scripture in support of his contentions, even though he regularly dismisses Scripture’s validity.
When researching my book Heaven, I read more than 150 books on the subject, including many I disagreed with. And, in reading Ehrman’s book, I saw no evidence that he had read a single evangelical book on heaven, though he did manage to cite one on hell. While his footnotes reflect extensive research in ancient Greek texts, he seems largely unaware of what the Bible or evangelical Christians claim about heaven—the new earth. He refers to Revelation 21:1, and recognizes the teaching of bodily resurrection, yet doesn’t develop what the Bible teaches about the eternal dwelling place of God’s people.
With a few exceptions when he admits he’s not certain, I’m struck by Ehrman’s usual unswerving confidence that he is 100 percent right. He is, just like evangelicals, relying on an ultimate authority—but instead of the Bible, it’s his own intellect.
As he does in most of his books, Ehrman seeks to build credibility by sharing his testimony of conversion to unbelief. He professed faith at age 15 at Youth for Christ, then attended Moody Bible Institute and Wheaton College. He was a card-carrying evangelical. His exodus from evangelicalism began when he went to Princeton Seminary, where he lost his faith in the Bible and Jesus:
[At Princeton] my scholarship led me to realize that the Bible was a very human book, with human mistakes and biases and culturally conditioned views in it. And realizing that made me begin to wonder if
the beliefs in God and Christ I had held and urged on others were themselves partially biased, culturally conditioned, or even mistaken. These doubts disturbed me not only because I wanted very much to know the Truth but also because I was afraid of the possible eternal consequences of getting it wrong. . . . What if I ended up no longer believing and then realized too late that my unfaithful change of heart had all been a huge blunder?
Ehrman appears to believe his studies at Princeton were guided by objective truth and his rejection of the Christian worldview was a courageous submission to this truth.
He claims, “In this book I will not be urging you either to believe or disbelieve in the existence of heaven and hell.” No reader could imagine Ehrman is urging belief in heaven or hell. But it seems intellectually dishonest to say he isn’t encouraging disbelief in them. Arguably that is a central purpose of the book.
In fact, to understand Heaven and Hell and Ehrman’s other writings, we must grasp that his deconversion redirected, rather than removed, his evangelistic zeal. Many people have quietly lost their faith, but Ehrman didn’t go gently into the night. Instead, he has become an eloquent apostle of deconversion, and his disciples are many.
While critics of the faith come and go, I regard Ehrman as one of the most significant modern opponents to the Christian faith. He’s a secular prophet to certain evangelical and ex-evangelical readers.
I feel sorry for Bart Ehrman, but I’m even more saddened at the harm done to those who embrace his teachings. We who believe the Bible must recognize this is about our adversary, Satan, who comes to destroy and devours people through persuasive arguments, and who when he lies, “speaks his native language” (John 8:44, NIV).
In a time when “everyone has a story,” people listen to stories without discernment. The personal testimony historically has been used by faith-affirmers to reach the lost. Now it has become a tool of faith-deniers to reach the found.
There are still wonderful conversion stories, and we should tell them. But we should also teach our children to cultivate their intellects and equip them to refute falsehood. And we should demonstrate the transcendent vibrancy of a generous, Christ-centered, and people-loving life, enlightened by the authentic God-man Jesus, full of grace and truth.
Finally, as we call on God to do the miraculous work of conversion in people’s lives, we “must hold firmly to the trustworthy message as it has been taught, so that [we] can encourage others by sound doctrine and refute those who oppose it” (Titus 1:9).
Randy Alcorn is the founder and director of Eternal Perspective Ministries (EPM) and the author of more than 40 books, including Does God Want Us to be Happy?, Heaven, and The Treasure Principle.
Looking forward to seeing you on Zoom,
- Dave
Bart Ehrman’s Latest Attack on Christianity The Gospel Coalition April 13, Randy Alcorn
[Bart Ehrman is professor of religious studies at University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. He also teaches eight of The Great Courses’s widely acclaimed Bible and Christianity classes, and has a part in 78 others. The subtitles of Ehrman’s books, including his five New York Times bestsellers, capture his premises: e.g., Misquoting Jesus: The Story Behind Who Changed the Bible and Why, How Jesus Became God: the Exaltation of a Jewish Preacher from Galilee, and Forged: Writing in the Name of God—Why the Bible’s Authors Are Not Who We Think They Are.]
Whenever I read an Ehrman book, déjà vu kicks in. His core message is always: “Christians are dead wrong; I know because I used to be one before I became enlightened.” Each of Ehrman’s books deals with something else Christians are wrong about; and his newest, Heaven and Hell: A History of the Afterlife, is another volume in his expanding canon of deconversion doctrine.
Ehrman speaks with the authoritative tone of a historian-philosopher, a wise sage, unfolding humanity’s preoccupation with death and the fear of death. Beginning with the Epic of Gilgamesh, he then examines Homer, Virgil, Plato, and other ancients. Along the way he interjects his belief that there’s no need to fear death, since it’s simply ceasing to exist (the very thing many people fear).
Arriving at the Bible, simply one more myth to Ehrman, he presents what he calls the “older Hebrew view” that death is the final end, followed by nonexistence. He then addresses the “later Hebrew position” on resurrection and Judgment Day from the intertestamental era.
While he says little to refute pre-Christian views, once Ehrman gets to the historic Christian view of the afterlife, he conducts an all-out verbal siege. But he doesn’t rant and rave; he calmly presents his assertions, such as that Jesus and Paul disagreed on much, including the way of salvation, but shared a disbelief in an eternal hell. He says both of them, and the author of Revelation (whom he’s certain wasn’t the apostle John), taught annihilationism. He simply ignores or reinterprets passages to the contrary (e.g. Isa. 66:24; Dan. 12:2; Matt. 25:41, 46; Mark 9:43, 48; 2 Thess. 1:9; Jude 7, 13; Rev. 14:9–11; 20:10, 14– 15).
Interestingly, though Ehrman doesn’t believe there is a heaven, he leaves room for its possibility:
I certainly don’t think the notion of a happy afterlife is as irrational as the fires of hell; at least it does not contradict the notion of a benevolent creative force behind the universe. So I’m completely open to the idea and deep down even hopeful about it. But I have to say that at the end of the day I really don’t believe it either. (294)
However, Ehrman is certain he isn’t wrong about hell:
Are we really to think that God is some kind of transcendent sadist intent on torturing people (or at least willing to allow them to be tortured) for all eternity, a divine being infinitely more vengeful than anyone who has ever existed? (293–94)
At the end of the book Ehrman quotes from ex-evangelical Rob Bell:
In [universalism], the love of God knows no bounds and cannot be overcome. . . . In the words of one modern Christian author, once himself a committed evangelical with a passion for the biblical witness, in the end “Love Wins.”
Ehrman seems to offer universalism as a backup position to his naturalistic worldview. He’s saying, “I don’t believe in an afterlife, but if there is one then everyone will be in heaven.”
He goes on to essentially applaud the rise of universalism in Christian churches: “Harkening back to Origen, and Paul before him, these committed believers maintain that in the end no one will be able to resist the love of God. . . . Everyone will be saved.”
Opinion Isn’t Proof
I admire Ehrman’s skill as a persuasive communicator. Were he a lawyer he could take either side in any case and would likely persuade the jury. (Hence the vulnerability of uninformed Christians who read his books.) Yet Ehrman frequently states what he believes as if opinion constitutes proof. For instance, he emphatically says, “There was a time in human history when no one on the planet believed that there would be a judgment day at the end of time” (8). Really? No one? Does he have private access to an ancient poll taken of every living person?
Ehrman, after denying the Old Testament ever speaks of resurrection, explains in a footnote: Some readers may wonder why I am not contrasting this view of Job with the famous passage of Job 19:25–26: “For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God” (ESV).
Ehrman negates Job by citing a Jewish scholar who says, “The text has been garbled and we cannot tell exactly what Job intended to say.” This scholar adds, “Job is almost certainly not talking about seeing God in the afterlife.” I consulted 12 major translations by different teams of Hebrew scholars, some of whom don’t hold to biblical inerrancy. Their translations contain only minor differences. All of them suggest Job is indeed speaking of seeing God in the afterlife.
This is just one example of Ehrman’s practice of either: (1) inaccurately conveying what the Bible says; (2) accurately conveying what the Bible says, then declaring it’s wrong; (3) arguing the text really doesn’t say what Christians believe it says (why does that matter if what it really says is also wrong?); and (4) citing Scripture in support of his contentions, even though he regularly dismisses Scripture’s validity.
When researching my book Heaven, I read more than 150 books on the subject, including many I disagreed with. And, in reading Ehrman’s book, I saw no evidence that he had read a single evangelical book on heaven, though he did manage to cite one on hell. While his footnotes reflect extensive research in ancient Greek texts, he seems largely unaware of what the Bible or evangelical Christians claim about heaven—the new earth. He refers to Revelation 21:1, and recognizes the teaching of bodily resurrection, yet doesn’t develop what the Bible teaches about the eternal dwelling place of God’s people.
With a few exceptions when he admits he’s not certain, I’m struck by Ehrman’s usual unswerving confidence that he is 100 percent right. He is, just like evangelicals, relying on an ultimate authority—but instead of the Bible, it’s his own intellect.
As he does in most of his books, Ehrman seeks to build credibility by sharing his testimony of conversion to unbelief. He professed faith at age 15 at Youth for Christ, then attended Moody Bible Institute and Wheaton College. He was a card-carrying evangelical. His exodus from evangelicalism began when he went to Princeton Seminary, where he lost his faith in the Bible and Jesus:
[At Princeton] my scholarship led me to realize that the Bible was a very human book, with human mistakes and biases and culturally conditioned views in it. And realizing that made me begin to wonder if
the beliefs in God and Christ I had held and urged on others were themselves partially biased, culturally conditioned, or even mistaken. These doubts disturbed me not only because I wanted very much to know the Truth but also because I was afraid of the possible eternal consequences of getting it wrong. . . . What if I ended up no longer believing and then realized too late that my unfaithful change of heart had all been a huge blunder?
Ehrman appears to believe his studies at Princeton were guided by objective truth and his rejection of the Christian worldview was a courageous submission to this truth.
He claims, “In this book I will not be urging you either to believe or disbelieve in the existence of heaven and hell.” No reader could imagine Ehrman is urging belief in heaven or hell. But it seems intellectually dishonest to say he isn’t encouraging disbelief in them. Arguably that is a central purpose of the book.
In fact, to understand Heaven and Hell and Ehrman’s other writings, we must grasp that his deconversion redirected, rather than removed, his evangelistic zeal. Many people have quietly lost their faith, but Ehrman didn’t go gently into the night. Instead, he has become an eloquent apostle of deconversion, and his disciples are many.
While critics of the faith come and go, I regard Ehrman as one of the most significant modern opponents to the Christian faith. He’s a secular prophet to certain evangelical and ex-evangelical readers.
I feel sorry for Bart Ehrman, but I’m even more saddened at the harm done to those who embrace his teachings. We who believe the Bible must recognize this is about our adversary, Satan, who comes to destroy and devours people through persuasive arguments, and who when he lies, “speaks his native language” (John 8:44, NIV).
In a time when “everyone has a story,” people listen to stories without discernment. The personal testimony historically has been used by faith-affirmers to reach the lost. Now it has become a tool of faith-deniers to reach the found.
There are still wonderful conversion stories, and we should tell them. But we should also teach our children to cultivate their intellects and equip them to refute falsehood. And we should demonstrate the transcendent vibrancy of a generous, Christ-centered, and people-loving life, enlightened by the authentic God-man Jesus, full of grace and truth.
Finally, as we call on God to do the miraculous work of conversion in people’s lives, we “must hold firmly to the trustworthy message as it has been taught, so that [we] can encourage others by sound doctrine and refute those who oppose it” (Titus 1:9).
Randy Alcorn is the founder and director of Eternal Perspective Ministries (EPM) and the author of more than 40 books, including Does God Want Us to be Happy?, Heaven, and The Treasure Principle.
Thursday, May 7
Plate, Essays by Readers The Christian Century April 28, 2020
We gave our readers a one-word writing prompt: “Plate.” We received many compelling reflections. Below is a selection.
I remember sitting parked by the roadside once, terribly depressed and afraid about my daughter’s illness and what was going on in our family, when out of nowhere a car came along down the highway with a license plate that bore on it the one word out of all the words in the dictionary that I needed most to see exactly then. The word was TRUST. What do you call a moment like that? Something to laugh off as the kind of joke life plays on us every once in a while? The word of God? I am willing to believe that maybe it was something of both, but for me it was an epiphany. The owner of the car turned out to be, as I’d suspected, a trust officer in a bank, and not long ago, having read what I wrote of the incident, he found out where I lived and one afternoon brought me the license plate itself, which sits propped up on a bookshelf in my house to this day. It is rusty around the edges and a little battered, and it is also as holy a relic as I have ever seen.
Frederick Buechner Telling Secrets
Five years ago my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease and moved in with me. She went from caring for herself to being totally dependent. She looked like my mom, but she no longer took showers or washed her clothes. She could not remember if she had taken her medication. And she was no longer eating. How would I get her to eat?
The doctor suggested medication to activate her appetite. Friends suggested preparing her favorite meals. But she just kept telling me, “I am not hungry. It’s too much.” She would push the plate away.
Out of frustration, I started doing for her what she did for me as a child. I grabbed a small salad plate and put a little food on it. “Just a spoonful,” I said. And she ate—she cleaned her plate. It worked again the next day.
Maybe the medicine was finally kicking in? Maybe I had finally fixed a meal she really liked? Then it hit me: she’d been saying meals were “too much.” Maybe the amount of food that most of us take for granted on a regular dinner plate was just overwhelming for her.
Now when we go out for dinner, I ask for a small plate and then take whatever meal is served and divide it. I re-plate it with just a spoonful of potatoes, a quarter of the piece of chicken, just three or four florets of broccoli. She smiles and begins to eat.
Walking this journey with my mother has been full of trial and error. One important lesson is that I need to listen more and trust that even though she is sick, she is still telling me what she needs. And when life feels like it is just too much, I can’t give up. I just try enjoying the meal in a smaller potion, on a smaller plate.
Donna Oberkreser Clearwater, Florida
When I was the new pastor of a small congregation, I went to visit Audrey, who hadn’t been seen at church in a while. I knocked on the apartment door and was met by the formidable presence of Audrey’s housekeeper, Sarah. She was a no-nonsense person with little patience for such intrusions. Audrey, however, spoke up from the living room to invite me in.
I went in and was warmly welcomed by the white-haired woman seated comfortably in her recliner. We spent the next several minutes talking about the wall of photographs. The conversation shifted to the church, and Audrey walked me through the ins and outs of living in a seaside community. She asked about my family, where I grew up, and what I thought of the congregation and its ministries.
About a half hour into the visit, Audrey asked if I would serve her communion. A flush of panic flooded me: I had no bread, no juice, and nothing to serve them in even if I had them. My portable set was back in the church office, where it wasn’t going to be of much help. Regaining my composure, I asked if there might be some bread and a bottle of grape juice around. Sarah rolled her eyes, but at Audrey’s insistence, she went hunting through the cabinets. After a few moments of searching and a lot of unnecessary noise, she pulled out a package of saltines and a small carton of prune juice. Audrey looked flustered and embarrassed. But we would make do. I asked for a cup and a small plate. Sarah pulled out a chipped, badly stained coffee cup and a plastic dessert plate with a crack running through it. Foolishly, seeking to try to make the moment sacred, I asked, “Do you have something a bit nicer?” “No,” Sarah grumbled, “this will have to do.”
I looked wistfully at the open door of the cabinet, where I could see a lovely small cut glass plate, but I gave in. I put the saltines on the plate and took the cup from Sarah, pouring in the dark brown juice. I asked her if she wanted to receive communion too; she rolled her eyes and said no.
As I proceeded through the short service and shared the plate and cup with Audrey, I knew Sarah was watching my every move. What startled me, however, was that she was also mouthing the responses: she knew the service by heart. I wondered why she chose not to join us at the table, but I accept that her silent responses were sufficient before God.
Ricki Aiello Enfield, Connecticut
We gave our readers a one-word writing prompt: “Plate.” We received many compelling reflections. Below is a selection.
I remember sitting parked by the roadside once, terribly depressed and afraid about my daughter’s illness and what was going on in our family, when out of nowhere a car came along down the highway with a license plate that bore on it the one word out of all the words in the dictionary that I needed most to see exactly then. The word was TRUST. What do you call a moment like that? Something to laugh off as the kind of joke life plays on us every once in a while? The word of God? I am willing to believe that maybe it was something of both, but for me it was an epiphany. The owner of the car turned out to be, as I’d suspected, a trust officer in a bank, and not long ago, having read what I wrote of the incident, he found out where I lived and one afternoon brought me the license plate itself, which sits propped up on a bookshelf in my house to this day. It is rusty around the edges and a little battered, and it is also as holy a relic as I have ever seen.
Frederick Buechner Telling Secrets
Five years ago my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease and moved in with me. She went from caring for herself to being totally dependent. She looked like my mom, but she no longer took showers or washed her clothes. She could not remember if she had taken her medication. And she was no longer eating. How would I get her to eat?
The doctor suggested medication to activate her appetite. Friends suggested preparing her favorite meals. But she just kept telling me, “I am not hungry. It’s too much.” She would push the plate away.
Out of frustration, I started doing for her what she did for me as a child. I grabbed a small salad plate and put a little food on it. “Just a spoonful,” I said. And she ate—she cleaned her plate. It worked again the next day.
Maybe the medicine was finally kicking in? Maybe I had finally fixed a meal she really liked? Then it hit me: she’d been saying meals were “too much.” Maybe the amount of food that most of us take for granted on a regular dinner plate was just overwhelming for her.
Now when we go out for dinner, I ask for a small plate and then take whatever meal is served and divide it. I re-plate it with just a spoonful of potatoes, a quarter of the piece of chicken, just three or four florets of broccoli. She smiles and begins to eat.
Walking this journey with my mother has been full of trial and error. One important lesson is that I need to listen more and trust that even though she is sick, she is still telling me what she needs. And when life feels like it is just too much, I can’t give up. I just try enjoying the meal in a smaller potion, on a smaller plate.
Donna Oberkreser Clearwater, Florida
When I was the new pastor of a small congregation, I went to visit Audrey, who hadn’t been seen at church in a while. I knocked on the apartment door and was met by the formidable presence of Audrey’s housekeeper, Sarah. She was a no-nonsense person with little patience for such intrusions. Audrey, however, spoke up from the living room to invite me in.
I went in and was warmly welcomed by the white-haired woman seated comfortably in her recliner. We spent the next several minutes talking about the wall of photographs. The conversation shifted to the church, and Audrey walked me through the ins and outs of living in a seaside community. She asked about my family, where I grew up, and what I thought of the congregation and its ministries.
About a half hour into the visit, Audrey asked if I would serve her communion. A flush of panic flooded me: I had no bread, no juice, and nothing to serve them in even if I had them. My portable set was back in the church office, where it wasn’t going to be of much help. Regaining my composure, I asked if there might be some bread and a bottle of grape juice around. Sarah rolled her eyes, but at Audrey’s insistence, she went hunting through the cabinets. After a few moments of searching and a lot of unnecessary noise, she pulled out a package of saltines and a small carton of prune juice. Audrey looked flustered and embarrassed. But we would make do. I asked for a cup and a small plate. Sarah pulled out a chipped, badly stained coffee cup and a plastic dessert plate with a crack running through it. Foolishly, seeking to try to make the moment sacred, I asked, “Do you have something a bit nicer?” “No,” Sarah grumbled, “this will have to do.”
I looked wistfully at the open door of the cabinet, where I could see a lovely small cut glass plate, but I gave in. I put the saltines on the plate and took the cup from Sarah, pouring in the dark brown juice. I asked her if she wanted to receive communion too; she rolled her eyes and said no.
As I proceeded through the short service and shared the plate and cup with Audrey, I knew Sarah was watching my every move. What startled me, however, was that she was also mouthing the responses: she knew the service by heart. I wondered why she chose not to join us at the table, but I accept that her silent responses were sufficient before God.
Ricki Aiello Enfield, Connecticut
Thursday, April 29
Discussion Group Article
... Surprise, it's a video!
I've been trying to find a compelling article for us to read that has nothing to do with viruses, politics, the role of the 4th Estate, public safety/public rights, blame, anger, bewilderment, etc, etc, etc.
Maybe I just needed a break from the news.
So, here's one of my favorite pastors in America, Rob Bell, in a short video asking some compelling questions. What I'd like us to focus on is not what he says toward the end - Jesus didn't come here to start a religion - but rather, let's focus on the assertion that sometimes what got us to a certain place, understanding, or enlightenment, is now in the way of taking the next step in life. He talks about puberty being important but not wanting to stay in that mode but rather to move through it.
I'm wondering if there is something that got you to where you are that is now in the way? Was it an investment strategy, a bias, a primal instinct, a house, or, perhaps a long-held notion about God; and, does that thing now need to move out of the way to move into the next phase of life? I have some stories to talk about and I think you may as well. Let's spend an hour or so talking about something other than the current situation in front of us.
Or, we could always talk about the idea that Jesus said about Christianity, "You did what??!"
Here's the link. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQgHthZ72cU
Looking forward to Zooming with you. Here's the meeting link:
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/5955701807
-Fr. Dave
... Surprise, it's a video!
I've been trying to find a compelling article for us to read that has nothing to do with viruses, politics, the role of the 4th Estate, public safety/public rights, blame, anger, bewilderment, etc, etc, etc.
Maybe I just needed a break from the news.
So, here's one of my favorite pastors in America, Rob Bell, in a short video asking some compelling questions. What I'd like us to focus on is not what he says toward the end - Jesus didn't come here to start a religion - but rather, let's focus on the assertion that sometimes what got us to a certain place, understanding, or enlightenment, is now in the way of taking the next step in life. He talks about puberty being important but not wanting to stay in that mode but rather to move through it.
I'm wondering if there is something that got you to where you are that is now in the way? Was it an investment strategy, a bias, a primal instinct, a house, or, perhaps a long-held notion about God; and, does that thing now need to move out of the way to move into the next phase of life? I have some stories to talk about and I think you may as well. Let's spend an hour or so talking about something other than the current situation in front of us.
Or, we could always talk about the idea that Jesus said about Christianity, "You did what??!"
Here's the link. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQgHthZ72cU
Looking forward to Zooming with you. Here's the meeting link:
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/5955701807
-Fr. Dave
Hello!
I've been looking for an article about God in our everyday un-normal life. As it turns out, it is difficult to find an article that is relevant, less than three pages, and understandable; even to the educated and well-read group that we have. Despite this, I have attached an article that may well not be relevant nor understandable, but, at least it's short. ... thanks to some careful editing by yours truly. If you'd like to read the full article, you can find it at the Living Church magazine. But in the unedited version, the author goes into an article he wrote in 1988 about nuclear proliferation that I don't quite understand from a political-philosophical point of view nor do I see the Christian ethic view except for the obvious - God probably doesn't want us to blow each other up. Nevertheless, feel free to look it up.
Instead of thinking about the global God and how such a Creator can allow for this virus, the author invites us to look at the everyday God who is with us for each little decision we make. The ethics of the daily decisions we make may help us focus on the virtue of patience. If so, it truly would be a God-inspired action.
Here is the Zoom link for all Discussion Groups:
https://zoom.us/j/5955701807 Meeting ID: 595 570 1807
I've been looking for an article about God in our everyday un-normal life. As it turns out, it is difficult to find an article that is relevant, less than three pages, and understandable; even to the educated and well-read group that we have. Despite this, I have attached an article that may well not be relevant nor understandable, but, at least it's short. ... thanks to some careful editing by yours truly. If you'd like to read the full article, you can find it at the Living Church magazine. But in the unedited version, the author goes into an article he wrote in 1988 about nuclear proliferation that I don't quite understand from a political-philosophical point of view nor do I see the Christian ethic view except for the obvious - God probably doesn't want us to blow each other up. Nevertheless, feel free to look it up.
Instead of thinking about the global God and how such a Creator can allow for this virus, the author invites us to look at the everyday God who is with us for each little decision we make. The ethics of the daily decisions we make may help us focus on the virtue of patience. If so, it truly would be a God-inspired action.
Here is the Zoom link for all Discussion Groups:
https://zoom.us/j/5955701807 Meeting ID: 595 570 1807
Ethics: The Everyday Matters
Thursday, April 23
Ethics: The Everyday Matters
Living Church, April 14, 2020 By Stanley Hauerwas
The virus has wounded us. Life was pretty good. Most of us knew when and from where our next meal or paycheck was coming. We could plan visits to see children or old friends. Spring training was soon to begin. If you cannot trust spring training you cannot trust anything. And that is exactly where we find ourselves. This damned virus has made us unsure if we can trust anything — and that includes God.
Ethics is often thought to deal with “big questions” and dramatic choices, but in fact the most important and significant aspects of our lives are found in the everyday. The everyday is made the everyday by the promises we make, which may not seem like promises at the time but turn out to make us people that can be trusted. Such trust comes through small acts of tenderness that are as significant as they are unnoticed. It makes a difference that I am told, “I love you” before I leave for the day even though the declaration may seem to be routine. It is often routine and that is why it is so important.
The kind of ethics associated with this way of characterizing the moral life is called an ethic of the virtues. I have recently written a book entitled The Character of Virtue: Letters to a Godson. The book, as the title implies, are letters commending a virtue I assume is relevant to my godson’s age and development. I try to help us see that the virtues are not the result of extraordinary behavior. Instead, they ride on the back of the everyday. Accordingly, the virtues are not the result of my trying hard, for example, to be patient. I become patient by taking the time to learn how to dribble the basketball well. We do discover in times like the present that the moral commitments we had forgotten make us who we are. I am thinking, for example, of the commitment of health care workers who resolve not to abandon the ill even though to remain present may endanger their own lives.
The wound that the virus has inflicted on us is to tempt us to become impatient with ourselves and others in an effort to return to the “normal.” We had not realized how dependent we have become on the everyday habit of going to church and seeing one another on Sundays. We had lost track of the significance of our willingness to touch one another as a sign that we rejoice in their presence. In short, we had lost the significance of the everyday, and we rightly want it back.
But we must be patient. We are an eschatological people. We believe we are agents in a story we did not make up and it is a story that is true. That the story is true makes it possible for us to live truthful lives. Such lives require us to recognize that we are a people who must die. We are not meant to survive this life. That is why we live not to survive but to love God and to have love for our neighbor. We have been wounded by this virus but we have not been morally destroyed. So, let us be patient with one another as God has remained patient with us.
Stanley Hauerwas is Gilbert T. Rowe Professor Emeritus of Divinity and Law at Duke Divinity School and canon theologian of the Diocese of Tennessee.
Living Church, April 14, 2020 By Stanley Hauerwas
The virus has wounded us. Life was pretty good. Most of us knew when and from where our next meal or paycheck was coming. We could plan visits to see children or old friends. Spring training was soon to begin. If you cannot trust spring training you cannot trust anything. And that is exactly where we find ourselves. This damned virus has made us unsure if we can trust anything — and that includes God.
Ethics is often thought to deal with “big questions” and dramatic choices, but in fact the most important and significant aspects of our lives are found in the everyday. The everyday is made the everyday by the promises we make, which may not seem like promises at the time but turn out to make us people that can be trusted. Such trust comes through small acts of tenderness that are as significant as they are unnoticed. It makes a difference that I am told, “I love you” before I leave for the day even though the declaration may seem to be routine. It is often routine and that is why it is so important.
The kind of ethics associated with this way of characterizing the moral life is called an ethic of the virtues. I have recently written a book entitled The Character of Virtue: Letters to a Godson. The book, as the title implies, are letters commending a virtue I assume is relevant to my godson’s age and development. I try to help us see that the virtues are not the result of extraordinary behavior. Instead, they ride on the back of the everyday. Accordingly, the virtues are not the result of my trying hard, for example, to be patient. I become patient by taking the time to learn how to dribble the basketball well. We do discover in times like the present that the moral commitments we had forgotten make us who we are. I am thinking, for example, of the commitment of health care workers who resolve not to abandon the ill even though to remain present may endanger their own lives.
The wound that the virus has inflicted on us is to tempt us to become impatient with ourselves and others in an effort to return to the “normal.” We had not realized how dependent we have become on the everyday habit of going to church and seeing one another on Sundays. We had lost track of the significance of our willingness to touch one another as a sign that we rejoice in their presence. In short, we had lost the significance of the everyday, and we rightly want it back.
But we must be patient. We are an eschatological people. We believe we are agents in a story we did not make up and it is a story that is true. That the story is true makes it possible for us to live truthful lives. Such lives require us to recognize that we are a people who must die. We are not meant to survive this life. That is why we live not to survive but to love God and to have love for our neighbor. We have been wounded by this virus but we have not been morally destroyed. So, let us be patient with one another as God has remained patient with us.
Stanley Hauerwas is Gilbert T. Rowe Professor Emeritus of Divinity and Law at Duke Divinity School and canon theologian of the Diocese of Tennessee.
Who Should You Let Into Your Coronavirus Quarantine Orbit?
By Alina Dizik, April 1, 2020 [Updated April 6], WSJ
As infections spread rapidly, many Americans are creating closed circles of family or select friends to form in-person “safety networks” where everyone sees only the others in the same group, says Benjamin Karney, professor of social psychology at the University of California, Los Angeles. But forming these networks is complicated, since everyone has a different idea of who is trustworthy. Even members of a single household may disagree on who should be part of the closed group. Prof. Karney sees parallels between socializing during today’s pandemic and the assumptions people had to make about sexual partners at the height of the 1980s AIDS crisis. “We don’t know enough to make an informed decision...so people are making their own rules of thumb,” he says. In Seattle, Jill Duffield is getting creative with how to expand her family’s quarantine orbit without bending the strict shelter-in-place rules too much. On a recent afternoon, a neighbor came over to her sloped backyard to play on a different level of the outdoor area with Ms. Duffield’s son, Aaron, who has asthma. The two were far enough away from each other that they could use walkie-talkies to communicate. Ms. Duffield, 45, and her husband “were really struggling with trying to balance what’s important,” she says, even asking a doctor for advice. “We debated for a long time.” Others under lockdown are preparing for the day things ease up by planning in advance. Kimberly Weiss, a 38-year-old attorney from the Chicago suburb of Lake Forest, Ill., and her husband, Michael Weiss, hope to expand their orbit to one family that fits all the demands for a little bit of safe socializing. Ms. Weiss strategically picked neighbors where the children correspond in age to four out of her five children. Online, she watched the wife doing at-home fitness classes and the husband demonstrating his cooking, while her children played online games with the other family’s children. All this behavior made her believe her neighbors when they said the children weren’t leaving the house. She made sure with their mutual housekeeper that the family also temporarily paused their home cleaning. “We really have to be certain,” says Ms. Weiss. When it comes to such high-stakes meetings, the gloves are off. “People are certainly trying to police each other,” says Erin Vogel, a social psychologist at the Stanford Prevention Research Center in California. “It’s tough for people to figure out what the boundaries are with the people in their lives.”
Those boundaries can surprise some people when the fault lines run through their families. When a niece came to drop off some much-needed hand sanitizer outside the home of 65-year-old Adelena Quevedo, she told her aunt that they needed to stay 6 feet away. The niece wore latex gloves and carefully tossed the sanitizer toward the Miami-based interior designer. While thankful, Ms. Quevedo was caught off-guard by the sudden social distancing. “They think we [seniors] should be locked up,” joked the designer, who is no longer leaving her home.
Some Americans think they are playing it safe by socializing only with familiar co-workers. Others, when they dine together, order delivery and opt for disposable silverware.
The issue can be even more complicated for multiple generations living under one roof. With six adults and two young children, everyone has a different idea of the quarantine in her household, says Malerie Holcomb-Botts who lives in Kailua, Hawaii, with her husband, in-laws, brother and another friend. While she is scheduling virtual play dates for her children and virtual hangouts for herself, her elderly mother-in-law has taken a different view. Cheryl Botts, the mother-in-law, says she isn’t changing her habits to live in total isolation. “I’m not a worrying type of person,” says the 74-year-old retired homemaker. She says she invited a friend to the backyard, but the friend declined. For larger families, it is important to establish rules for how the entire family will interact with anyone outside of the household, says Rebecca London, a sociologist
at the University of California, Santa Cruz. Otherwise socializing can breed resentment. Dr. London recently declined a book-club meetup in someone’s driveway because it didn’t align with her own family’s social-distancing policy. In places where socializing is now forbidden, many are caught policing loved ones across state lines. New Yorker Scott Starrett, age 48, was so shocked that his 79-year-old father was still playing tennis in South Carolina, that he called almost daily to plead with him to stop. The composer for television, who isn’t leaving his own apartment, didn’t have to beg for long: “Thank goodness they shut down the league, so now he’s off the hook from me nagging.”
By Alina Dizik, April 1, 2020 [Updated April 6], WSJ
As infections spread rapidly, many Americans are creating closed circles of family or select friends to form in-person “safety networks” where everyone sees only the others in the same group, says Benjamin Karney, professor of social psychology at the University of California, Los Angeles. But forming these networks is complicated, since everyone has a different idea of who is trustworthy. Even members of a single household may disagree on who should be part of the closed group. Prof. Karney sees parallels between socializing during today’s pandemic and the assumptions people had to make about sexual partners at the height of the 1980s AIDS crisis. “We don’t know enough to make an informed decision...so people are making their own rules of thumb,” he says. In Seattle, Jill Duffield is getting creative with how to expand her family’s quarantine orbit without bending the strict shelter-in-place rules too much. On a recent afternoon, a neighbor came over to her sloped backyard to play on a different level of the outdoor area with Ms. Duffield’s son, Aaron, who has asthma. The two were far enough away from each other that they could use walkie-talkies to communicate. Ms. Duffield, 45, and her husband “were really struggling with trying to balance what’s important,” she says, even asking a doctor for advice. “We debated for a long time.” Others under lockdown are preparing for the day things ease up by planning in advance. Kimberly Weiss, a 38-year-old attorney from the Chicago suburb of Lake Forest, Ill., and her husband, Michael Weiss, hope to expand their orbit to one family that fits all the demands for a little bit of safe socializing. Ms. Weiss strategically picked neighbors where the children correspond in age to four out of her five children. Online, she watched the wife doing at-home fitness classes and the husband demonstrating his cooking, while her children played online games with the other family’s children. All this behavior made her believe her neighbors when they said the children weren’t leaving the house. She made sure with their mutual housekeeper that the family also temporarily paused their home cleaning. “We really have to be certain,” says Ms. Weiss. When it comes to such high-stakes meetings, the gloves are off. “People are certainly trying to police each other,” says Erin Vogel, a social psychologist at the Stanford Prevention Research Center in California. “It’s tough for people to figure out what the boundaries are with the people in their lives.”
Those boundaries can surprise some people when the fault lines run through their families. When a niece came to drop off some much-needed hand sanitizer outside the home of 65-year-old Adelena Quevedo, she told her aunt that they needed to stay 6 feet away. The niece wore latex gloves and carefully tossed the sanitizer toward the Miami-based interior designer. While thankful, Ms. Quevedo was caught off-guard by the sudden social distancing. “They think we [seniors] should be locked up,” joked the designer, who is no longer leaving her home.
Some Americans think they are playing it safe by socializing only with familiar co-workers. Others, when they dine together, order delivery and opt for disposable silverware.
The issue can be even more complicated for multiple generations living under one roof. With six adults and two young children, everyone has a different idea of the quarantine in her household, says Malerie Holcomb-Botts who lives in Kailua, Hawaii, with her husband, in-laws, brother and another friend. While she is scheduling virtual play dates for her children and virtual hangouts for herself, her elderly mother-in-law has taken a different view. Cheryl Botts, the mother-in-law, says she isn’t changing her habits to live in total isolation. “I’m not a worrying type of person,” says the 74-year-old retired homemaker. She says she invited a friend to the backyard, but the friend declined. For larger families, it is important to establish rules for how the entire family will interact with anyone outside of the household, says Rebecca London, a sociologist
at the University of California, Santa Cruz. Otherwise socializing can breed resentment. Dr. London recently declined a book-club meetup in someone’s driveway because it didn’t align with her own family’s social-distancing policy. In places where socializing is now forbidden, many are caught policing loved ones across state lines. New Yorker Scott Starrett, age 48, was so shocked that his 79-year-old father was still playing tennis in South Carolina, that he called almost daily to plead with him to stop. The composer for television, who isn’t leaving his own apartment, didn’t have to beg for long: “Thank goodness they shut down the league, so now he’s off the hook from me nagging.”