Category Archives: Religion

Religion

The Golden Rule is a command, not a strategy

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Photo credit; Jared eberhardt. Creative commons attribution-Share Alike 2.0.

Personal update: I’m still fighting my sinus infection. Got some stronger antibiotics now, and am trying to rest a lot. I had to take the garbage out today and get some groceries, and I consider those things an achievement.

I have more to say about the Charlie Kirk atrocity. I will try not to be influenced by the fact that I had to unfriend someone on Facebook today, because of a startlingly ugly comment.

[Decompress]

OK. I’ve written on this topic before – either here or at the American Spectator Online – but that was a long time ago, and I suppose public awareness has faded.

Here’s my proposition – the Golden Rule is a command, not a strategy.

I see people (to my considerable distress) saying things like, “Well, Charlie tried talking to ‘em. You see what he got for it. Now it’s time to give ‘em a taste of their own medicine.”

Many of these people even profess Christian faith.

They appear to be operating out of the common belief (buttressed by way too many well-meaning Christian children’s stories) that doing unto others as you would have them do unto you is a strategy for achieving peace. If you’re nice enough to your enemy, this theory assumes, they’ll soon grow ashamed of their meanness and start being nice in return.

Friends, this is never promised to us.

Jesus attaches no promise to this command. It was delivered to disciples who were mostly destined for martyrdom. Their enemies would not change their minds about them for about three centuries. Until then, the Christians practiced the Golden Rule without a lot of reward, just because it’s right.

The fact that Charlie Kirk suffered martyrdom in return for kindness and civility does not mean the Golden Rule hasn’t worked. It’s working just fine. God was glorified in Charlie’s life and death, in ways we can’t even guess.

We are not called to win battles, or elections, or the culture. We’re called only to be faithful. The results are in God’s hands.

“How can we protect society then?”

The answer to that is in Jesus’ teaching about God and Caesar. I saw historian Tom Holland discussing this recently, in a video clip online. He pointed out that when Jesus said, “Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s,” He was initiating an historic innovation. Never before in history, anywhere, had civic life been separated from religion.

Luther’s teaching of the two kingdoms builds on historical Christian thought. The individual Christian is responsible for living as a disciple. His realm is grace. The king or magistrate bears the sword and bears the responsibility to punish evildoers. His business is law and punishment.

A Christian individual can legitimately defend himself, and certainly defend his family, but declaring war or taking revenge or making reprisals are forbidden activities.

Please, please. Do not dishonor Charlie’s legacy by taking up the sword. Leave it to God. The tribute Charlie Kirk would wish from you is to do as he did – declare the love of Christ to our enemies.

And if they keep killing us, we keep on loving them.

Blogs, Socials, Religion, Uncategorized

R.I.P., Charlie Kirk

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Credit: Adam S. Keck. Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0.

Charlie Kirk is dead at 31, the victim of a cowardly assassin.

I was not a follower of Charlie Kirk’s. Nothing against him; I guess it was mostly an old fart’s reflexive resentment of up-and-comers. He took over Dennis Prager’s spot on Salem Radio, and though Dennis’s accident could hardly be blamed on Charlie, I suppose I was annoyed by the change. As old men are wont to be.

I resented a video clip I saw, in which Charlie stated that “no heterosexual man” ever re-plays old conversations in his head, pondering what he should have said. Since I do that all the time (and a number of my friends, whom I firmly believe to be heterosexual as well, say they do it too), I took some offense.

Until I discovered that Dennis Prager said it first.

But I think what annoyed me (subconsciously) most of all about Charlie Kirk was that he did – extremely well – a thing I always wanted to do. He faced people who disagreed with him in public, and argued with them, never (that I know of) descending into anger or name-calling, no matter how much anger and name-calling he took from the other side. I’ve never been able to do that, to my great shame.

My strongest impression of Charlie Kirk actually comes from video clips I’ve caught on Facebook, in which he appeared on a podcast called “Whatever.”

I watch “Whatever” clips now and then, as low entertainment. It’s a podcast about men and women and their relationships, and the format (as far as I can tell) is for young women, often heavily tattooed and pierced, to appear on one side of the table in the studio, to describe how wonderful their lives are as “sugar babies,” OnlyFans influencers, or porn stars. The host and his friends sit on the other side, arguing for something (usually) a little more responsible. The guest who seems to show up most frequently is a guy about whom I know nothing at all, other than that he claims to be an Eastern Orthodox Christian, but is not shy about using profanity. His strategy seems to be to shame these women into repenting and becoming celibate (he does not recommend they marry, as he considers them morally spoiled).

But Charlie Kirk was a guest at least once. And the clips of him at the table are something entirely different. He was polite, courteous, and sympathetic with the women, even as he condemned their sins. He listened, and spoke kindly. I feel that Jesus, when he dealt with prostitutes, must have been very much like that.

And I thought I saw (though Heaven knows I know nothing about reading women’s faces) that there was something in those women’s eyes as they looked at Charlie Kirk. A look that seemed to say, “Why couldn’t I have found a guy like this?”

Well, there’s one fewer guy like that in the world today.

Rest in peace, Charlie Kirk. Enter into the glory of your Master. May your blood be the seed of the church for which you fought so bravely.

Poetry, Religion

I read ‘In No Strange Land,’ by Francis Thompson

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My intention yesterday was not to post the Bjorn Andreas Bull-Hansen video. I was thinking that I had put up a reading of Francis Thompson’s ‘The Hound of Heaven’ not long ago, and I ought to do ‘In No Strange Land’ too. Because it’s a lovely poem of faith, possibly even better than the ‘Hound,’ but that’s an apples and oranges thing. (It also inspired the title of a hit movie and song of the 1950s.)

And there were several readings to choose from on YouTube. I sampled them, but they failed to please me. I have strong views on how this poem (which I memorized long ago and can still reel out) ought to be read.

Well, as they say, if you want something done right, you’ll have to do it yourself. And I have the technology.

Above, my reading of ‘In No Strange Land.’ Feel free to share it, if you like.

Music, Religion

Psalms on a day of sadness

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A dark day in Minneapolis. I used to live not far from where the atrocity happened. I could say a lot of bitter, partisan, thoughtless things, but best to keep my big mouth shut while people are grieving.

A friend alerted me to the clip above. I know nothing about Holy Groove, but it grabbed me right away. This (in my opinion) just works.

People who know me, know I don’t care much for contemporary Christian music. Based on how the controversy over CCM tends to run, I suppose they assume I don’t like new styles of music.

Nothing could be further from the truth. I have no problem with guitars in the sanctuary. I have no problem with drums in the sanctuary. Saxophones and electronic synthesizers are cool as far as I’m concerned.

My objection is to bland, repetitive lyrics.

May my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth if I ever object to the Psalms. And the blues are so flexible that they adjust to the text with smoothness and elegance.

Maybe there’s comfort here for someone today…

Music, Religion

Friday hymn: ‘Built on a Rock the Church Shall Stand’

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Health update: I still feel lousy.

Tonight, another Scandinavian hymn. It was written by N. F. S. Grundtvig (1783-1872), a controversial Danish pastor who adjusted his theology several times over his career, but rarely lowered his voice. (I think he believed – wrongly – that the origin of the Creeds preceded the writing of the New Testament and therefore they had greater authority. My Haugean forebears always considered him a dangerous thinker.) He also had the delusion that the ancient Vikings were some kind of proto-Protestants, and invented the term “Asatru” (popular among reenactors today) for worshipers of the old gods. You may remember a mention of him in Catherine Marshall’s novel Christy, which praises his development of the Folk High School movement in Scandinavia – one of the roots, I believe, of modern alternative education systems.

His followers were known as “the Glad Danes,” while the Pietists were called “the Sad Danes.”

What we have here is a hymn I remember well from childhood (we may have suspected Grundtvig’s theology in my home church, but we were fine with his hymns): “Built on a Rock the Church Shall Stand.” The original Danish text says “The Church, It Is an Ancient House.”

Religion

An older brother ponders the Prodigal Son

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“Return of the Prodigal Son,” by Rembrandt van Rijn, 1668. Public domain.

No review tonight; I’m reading a book that’s taking me a while, but is very well worth the time. I’m looking forward to reviewing it, probably tomorrow.

My summer cold persists in my head. It’s not as bad as it was at its peak, but this sucker has settled in for the duration. Today I actually dug out the old leftover Covid test I still had laying around. Negative. This means little, of course, as the virus has probably mutated, and the test kit has probably passed its expiration date. Nevertheless, I choose to believe it. As far as I know, that plague passed over my house like the Angel of Death over the homes of the Israelites in Exodus.

So here I sit. Of what shall I write? One racks the brain and furrows the brow (or wrinkles a stamp and thoughtfully licks the brow, like the absent-minded character in one of Ogden Nash’s poems). What do I have an opinion on, which I can inflict on my readers?

How about something inspirational? The Parable of the Prodigal Son. Luke 15: 11-32.

I think that, even in our time, a lot of Americans are somewhat familiar with the story. A younger son persuades his father to give him the wealth he would have inherited right now, then grabs the proceeds and runs to a far country, where he lives large until the money runs out. He is then reduced to working as a swineherd (a particularly shameful job for a Jew), and finally reaches the point where he’s sufficiently broken to go home and beg forgiveness, offering to become a hired servant. His father receives him with joy, orders a feast prepared, and returns him to his former status as a son of the house.

That’s the story most people know. And it’s perfectly good as such. It’s often cited by evangelists, which is appropriate.

But a lot of people aren’t aware of the rest of the story – the behavior of the Older Brother. When I look at the context, I note that Jesus tells this parable directly to the Scribes and Pharisees, in response to their criticism of his socializing with disreputable social elements.
(Continued on page 2)

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Poetry, Religion

‘The Hound of Heaven,’ read by Richard Burton

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This Friday night, instead of music, a poem. Actor Richard Burton (a lost soul, if there ever was one) reads one of the great English Christian poems, “The Hound of Heaven.” Francis Thompson (1859-1907), an impoverished Catholic poet who died young of tuberculosis, wrote this amazing ode to the relentless love of Christ, which was published in a collection in 1893.

There was a time — it doesn’t seem long ago, but it was — when I could recite this entire poem from memory. I still have big chunks of it in my head, and can recall the others when prompted.

I always recited it more slowly and meditatively than Burton, who reads it rapidly, in the tone of a fugitive, his pacing tight with dramatic tension.

Religion, Uncategorized

In defense of young men

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Photo credit: Drew Dizzy Graham. Unsplash license.

Should I comment on the Sydney Sweeney controversy? Let’s see – I’m an aging, lifelong celibate male with a shyness disorder. Obviously well qualified to opine on issues of sexuality.

First of all, I shall declare myself entirely on the side of American Eagle. I salute a return to traditional, sex-exploiting advertising. People (even women) like to look at beautiful women, and beautiful women sell product. I’ve missed that crass commercialism. Not only is it good for business, it makes the world (I think) a happier place.

Many Christians, I’ve noticed, strongly disagree. They caution against the display of sexiness, arguing that it incites men to lust in their hearts.

I’ve agonized over that issue all my life. Now that it’s pretty much an academic one for me, I want to say this publicly (many will disagree, I’m sure): When Jesus said that lust in a man’s heart was equivalent to adultery, I don’t think simply seeing an attractive woman and being sexually interested, was what he had in mind. I think Jesus was speaking in hyperbolic terms here, to demonstrate to us our complete inability to be clean before God. He certainly wanted us to curb our lust, but I don’t think He intended to demand asexuality of men, except for when they’re alone with their wives. (I think the sin is in actually contemplating an adulterous act.)

I’ve spent a lot of time lately with my novel Troll Valley. The audiobook version is being evaluated by the Amazon ACX people, and I’m almost ready to release a paperback version too. This is my most autobiographical book, despite the fact that almost none of the events in it bear any relation to my own experience. It’s autobiographical in terms of the Haugean, pietist community in which I grew up. I hope the book expresses, to some extent, how much I appreciate that heritage, but also the problems I discern in it.

One of those problems, I think, is the guilt it lays on boys and young men, the impression conveyed that just being a functioning male is somehow a shameful thing. Sadly, that view of manhood finds support in our time among the feminists, who say the same sort of thing, even more emphatically.

I have never solved the problem of “lusting in the heart” in my own life. In my youth, as an interested non-player, I was an outlier – a weirdo. But in more recent times – to my horror – I see young men rising around me everywhere who seem just like me. Sometimes they’re called Incels. Basement dwellers. There are probably other nicknames for them I haven’t heard yet, but they all describe much the same thing – unfinished young men who are too terrified to find a mate in a world that seems determined to portray them as subhuman losers. I am, in a sense, a father to those young men; I am their avatar.

I think the church needs to offer something to those young men. Something stronger than what we’ve got. Something a little more dangerous. Something edgy.

But I don’t know what that is. I certainly never found it in my own life.

The ideal solution, I think, would be arranged marriages. Historically, arranged marriages have an excellent track record. However, I don’t think the young people would go for it. Also, it’s probably illegal.

But we need something new. I want to see young men swaggering like Kirk Douglas. Grinning at women like Burt Lancaster. Sweeping the girls off their feet like Clark Gable.

I think – personally – that (generally speaking) that would please God, who made Sydney Sweeney beautiful, not without reason.

Religion

Very like a straight line

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Photo credit: Wolfgang Hasselmann wolfgang_hasselmann. Unsplash license.

Had a nice day today, but it stretched long, which is why I’m posting late. The board of the Georg Sverdrup Society, whose journal I edit, met in Mankato, Minnesota. And then we were treated to a tour of the archives and museum of the Evangelical Lutheran Synod, on the campus of Bethany Lutheran College in that same town.

There’s probably a lesson in the fact that our different church bodies are the offspring of two opposing sides in 19th Century controversies among Norwegian Lutherans in the U.S., and yet we find ourselves today, if not allies, at least amiable rivals. The ELS is a legacy group out of the old Norwegian Synod, the most conservative and rigidly orthodox of the Norwegian immigrant church bodies. My group, the Association of Free Lutheran Congregations, comes from what was then the liberal, free-wheeling, revivalist Lutheran Free Church. Our spiritual forefathers were bitter enemies who anathematized one another in fiery sermons and editorials. Now we find much to unite us.

That observation is, I suppose, the wrong way to introduce my topic tonight. Because I want to talk about objective truth. Eternal verities that must not be compromised.

Yesterday I described my delight at the new, sharp sight I’m enjoying in my left eye since my cataract surgery, less than a week ago as I write. My drive to Mankato today was along one of my favorite scenic routes in my state, Highway 169 along the Minnesota River valley, through Le Sueur, St. Peter, and Mankato. The skies were clear and colors were bright, and I felt ten years younger than I had a week ago.

But, as I mentioned, I do now have minor retina damage that slightly warps everything I see through that eye. Straight lines no longer look straight to me.

The lesson modern thought would have me learn from this experience is that I should abandon the whole idea of straight lines. Since I can’t see them anymore, obviously they don’t exist for me. We all live in our own reality, and my reality no longer includes straight lines.

I say phooey. I can remember straight lines. I can listen to the testimony of reliable people who talk to me about them. I can study geometry if I care to, and learn all about parallels and right angles and so on.

It’s like that bloody elephant in the famous secular parable. One blind man touches its flank and thinks an elephant is very like a wall. Another touches the trunk, and decides an elephant is very like a snake. And so on. Moderns take all this to mean that elephants don’t exist as such, but are something different for each person.

But the actual point of the parable is that they’re all wrong. What those blind men need to do is to get together and pool their information. After some frank consultation, they’ll probably be able to construct a pretty reasonable description of a whole elephant. If not, they can ask somebody who can see.

Fiction, Reading, Religion

Thoughts on ‘All Hallows Eve’

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I’m reading (again) Charles Williams’ final novel, All Hallows Eve. I’m not quite half way through it. Williams is not the easiest read, but I keep coming back to his books. Just a few thoughts tonight about my ongoing impressions.

A recurring theme in Williams’ novels is the city – properly spelled with a capital “C” when he deals with it. J. R. R. Tolkien was always a little leery of Williams, and I’d imagine attitudes towards cities had something to do with it. Tolkien was a countryman, reveling in woods and meadows, trees and flowers and butterflies. Williams was London-born, and felt best at home there, amid the noise, the crowds, the bustle.

I’ve never (yet) read St. Augustine’s City of God, but I understand it to be a meditation on the societal catastrophe of the fall of Rome. Augustine told Christians that they mustn’t identify the City of God with any city of man, however great its pretensions. Christianity could do without Rome – we look to the City with foundations, eternal in the Heavens.

Nevertheless, Williams saw something of eternity in London, and in any great metropolis. A city has a being of its own; a body, a pulse, and a spirit. Many members work together to support a common life. The man of God can find an image of Heaven in the city, if he looks for it. London is itself an active character in All Hallows’ Eve.

Another thing that always strikes me – bothers me, really – in this book is that the villain is a Jew, and his Jewishness is an important element. There is no hint here of Jewish inferiority – rather the opposite. The villain here, Father Simon, is, we are made to understand, the Antichrist. And as the true Antichrist, he has to correspond to Jesus Christ, but in an inverted way. The Jewish capacities that in part made Jesus Messiah are aped and parodied in Father Simon.

This is my personal opinion – we need to be careful, when reading, to understand that people didn’t view antisemitism the same way back then (Williams died in 1945, as the war was ending, but before most people knew the true extent of Hitler’s Holocaust). The old antisemitism was bad enough, but Hitler improvised a new kind. The persecutors of Jews before that time – Catholic and Protestant and Orthodox – had never considered annihilating the Jews. They wanted to convert them. Hitler cared nothing for the Jews’ souls. He was all about “pure” blood, and regarded the Jews as an infection to be removed.

I don’t think we can ever treat Jews the same way in literature again. And that’s a good thing.