On Herod(s).

Herod the Great

In the Gospel of Matthew, magi, or wisemen, travel to find one they call “the newborn king.” They show up at the palace, where you might expect to find such a person, and their words trouble Herod the Great. He already holds that particular title.

The sitting monarch says, “When you’ve found him, report back to me so that I too may go and worship him.”

Of course he intends no such thing. In fact, he will go on to command the slaughter of every Jewish male two and under in Bethlehem, just in case.

Which is a story as old as time – people using feigned devotion for their own ends. Herods ancient and modern who seek only their own enrichment and a tighter grip on power. Who will lie to your face and trample any and every one in their way. Who use religious lip service and symbols in hopes of placating the faithful. Who think sprinkling in “God bless America (or Judea or Rome or Babylon or Britain)” sanctifies their ill intent.

Herod was a liar. He still is. He still shows up in places of power: podiums and pulpits and profit centers in particular. He shows up when people need you to believe one story while they live something very different. He shows up in people who need you to not ask too many questions or peak behind too many curtains.

But Herod’s falsehoods are only as effective as we let them be. We can, like the magi, go a different way. We can refuse to settle for hollow platitudes. We can draw lines around our values and not trade them for trinkets and empty promises or access to power. We can refuse to comply or pretend or look the other way.

We can look instead at the body of evidence. At the values being lived out, not just the sound bites. We can insist that our senses must line up together. We can, and should, demand better of every person who has authority in our world.

And we can and should always reject Herod and his ways, wherever they might show up, pretend to care, or say all the right words while smiling their fake smiles. 

Heord’s false piety was meant to cover up the stench of death. It still is today. 

May we have the insight, courage, and audacity to know better.

On words.

The President of the United States spends his time calling people names.

Sometimes he drops slurs like the “r-word” on Thanksgiving – a word that has risen in popularity since his inauguration. Sometimes it is to call a reporter names when asked questions he cannot or will not answer. Sometimes it is directed at people on the margins of society. Always it is directed at those who don’t support him or dare question him (even if they once worked with or for him).

All of it is beneath the office. None of it would be allowed in my work place. Or the schools my kids attend. Or in most people’s living rooms.

And no, it is not strength – it is weakness. It is not “saying it like it is.” It is immature, willful insolence and it is how Donald Trump has acted for as long as you’ve known his name.

It’s not “just words” either. It is dehumanizing and dangerous language. And, for a person who claims faith in Jesus, “it’s just words” is an explicitly anti-Christ argument.

The current President lacks character and decency. We know this (or did until he became the nominee in a broken 2 party system). It shows up over and over again, in more than just words, but in words loudly and often.

Maybe you like some of his polices. I’d suggest there are others who could implement those things. Or perhaps that the policies championed by a person who never matured past middle school playground bullying may be just as problematic.

I’d also suggest the options are not binary. You don’t have to choose between either accepting (or condoning [or parroting]) awful behavior and Communism/Socialism/Anarchy/Whatever you fear. You have power in this process. You can speak up and say, “I support X, Y, and Z, but I cannot support this.” You can ask elected leaders, even ones you vote for or share a party affiliation with, to do better.

Criticism or accountability for people we usually support is a practice in freedom and integrity. And if you belong to the Church and typically (and/or publicly) support this administration, I’d suggest there is a world (including myself) desperate to hear you speak one word of pushback on the things we are seeing and hearing from the President.

The roaring silence sounds a whole lot like approval and applause.

Words matter.
Decency matters.
Character matters.
Power without character is deadly.
Wealth without character is bankrupt.
A nation without character is lost.
And certainly a Church without character is an abject failure.

We can and must be better.

The Cross On Wheels Religion

PHOTO BY PATRICK T. FALLON/GETTY IMAGES

This photo is a perfect illustration of the civil religion that masquerades as Christianity in North America.

It uses Christian imagery and language.

It sings the songs and feels the feels. 

It makes converts to its cause.

It prays the prayers, it quotes the Bible. 

It draws crowds and calls it revival.

But it sacrifices little and makes it easier to follow Jesus by replacing his way with something much more palatable and practical. Like wheels on an instrument of torture and death. 

It will wear the cross as jewelry, but it cannot, will not, bear the burden of the cross in its totality.

The burden of loving enemies. Or neighbors, if they are too inconvenient.

It will seldom turn the other check. Likely never turn a sword into a plow and will, in fact, call you names for suggesting we do so.

It will not be critiqued and will call any pushback “persecution.”

It employs fear and scarcity to drive conformity.

It will not repent of bias and bigotry because it trades deep self-examination for shallow self-improvement.

It dismisses systemic change because it thrives in the system as is.

It will not tear down its idols because the idols all parrot the right words and promise power and privilege and position.

It has built itself in such a way that talking points and statements of belief matter more than flesh and blood humanity.

It offers wealth and upward mobility, 3 quick steps to breakthrough, and all the assurance that you’re one of the good guys.

And it confuses this nation (and the partisanship that comes with it) for the upside down, nationless Kingdom of God. 

The cross on wheels religion is a sham. Whether fully embraced or sprinkled in here and there, it distorts the Gospel and hinders the work of the Church. It has shown up time and again throughout history (and Scripture), but despite how often it invokes the name, it is a stranger to the God revealed in Jesus Christ. 

There is another way. A better way. It’s much less glamorous and the crowds are often smaller.

This way will require all of you. A change of mind and heart and allegiance. It will ask for more than a simple prayer or attendance at worship gatherings or social media posts like this one. It will ask you to lay down your life and embrace the stranger and insist that the last go first. It is not terribly pragmatic. 

But it is good. It is grace-filled and spacious and life giving. It is the way that follows after Jesus and bears fruit like kindness and gentleness and self-control. And joy and peace and love and patience. It is the way of mercy and justice and line erasing and deep, meaningful faithfulness in the face of all that has gone wrong.

There are many different ways to be a Christian in this world, but they don’t all look like Jesus of Nazareth. He is not a mascot or a means to an end. He isn’t a prop or commodity. He asks more than lip service and certainly more than faith interwoven with something as fallible as a nation state.

He is not seeking to hand us the American dream or whisk us away to some far-off afterlife. He is redeeming all creation. Making all things new. He invites us to stumble along the way with him as he repairs all that is broken in the us and the world. And as his cross – the one without the training wheels – testifies, there are no shortcuts to a better world.