I was recently tagged by Jay by receiving a Thinking Blog Award. I am supposed to come up with five of my own favorites and pass it along. But I think I’ll do something else: I rarely link externally to other blogs that I do find stimulating, and so instead of a one-time recognition, I’m going to spread it out over several posts, and hopefully make a habit of it. And if you want to check out Jay, I recommend that you do so: he is in a very similar situation, and taking somewhat of a different approach to things (which can be challenging and refreshing).
But on to the meat of this post. Recently I watched two very interesting documentaries on particular aspects of American fundamentalism. One was Jesus Camp, which I rented through the Blockbuster pass my roommate and I got a few weeks ago. The other was a BBC documentary about Fred Phelps’ Westboro Baptist church, which I was alerted to by a Box Turtle Bulletin post here. Box Turtle Bulletin is a great blog, both because of the information given there and the demeanor in which it is given. Though Jim is definitively Side-A, he does not engage in any of the vitriolic Side-B or Side-X bashing some are unfortunately prone to, but gives facts and states clearly and articulately what he finds to be wrong with such beliefs. I especially recommend his articles on the Love Won Out conference he attended, which have been illuminating and intriguing.
Westboro Baptist
What struck me about the BBC documentary was not the particulars of the beliefs of those involved in Phelps’ Westboro Baptist church, nor even the cultic environment his congregation has constructed, but the psychology exhibited by followers. When something this bizarre springs up, it begs the question of how such a belief is able to sustain itself. And while it is easy to get offended and simply ride an emotional response through the documentary, I think it’s much more instructive to pay attention to the congregation’s mental defenses. I was rather disturbed to hear some things come out of their mouths that I have heard said by perfectly normal churchgoers and church leaders, and even by myself. As I continued to watch the documentary, I became more and more aware that many of the psychological constructs built up around Westboro’s beliefs are identical to those I’ve heard within Fundamentalist Christianity. Perhaps the chief difference between general Fundamentalism and the Phelps movement is not the crisp outer shell but the creamy nougat center. If one could reach down past the mental barriers into Wesboro’s peculiar set of doctrines and alter them, you would have a group of people that look very much like your ordinary Fundamentalist Christians. So my challenge to you and to me is to examine whether we are defending our own faith in an honorable fashion. I sat there watching the documentary, taking notes of what came out of the mouths of the church members.
All we do is … make what was already in their hearts come out of their mouths.
If they’re offended… it’s a clear indication that they hate God’s Word, obviously, and are headed to hell.
This is the first mental defense: the belief truth is obvious and self-evident. On the surface, this is an innocuous belief, but in the end it is not only false but leads to a patronizing view of one’s neighbor. But the truth is not self-evident. Although it is ‘self-evident’ that the sun revolves around the earth, from east to west, we know in fact that this is not true; although it is ‘self-evident’ that matter is contiguous, this too is not the case. And need I speak of spiritual matters? What of the ‘self-evidentiality’ of God’s favor toward those who are materialistically blessed? (This is manifestly refuted in Scripture.) Note that I do not speak here of the evidentiality of a Creator God, which Paul promotes in Romans, but the evidentiality of the intricacies of doctrine. To suggest that truth is patently obvious is to sweep aside two thousand years of serious and sincere questions and disputes. But if I hold to the belief that doctrinal truth is clear to all men, and I am convinced of my own understanding of morality, I am led to the conclusion that those who disagree with me do so either because they are stupid or because they are wicked. Is the animosity of Westboro Baptist based on anything but such a conclusion? For since the truth, in all its intricacies, is plain to all mankind, those who are opposed to them are fools and demons.
They hate us because they hate the message.
No one [at school] we would call our real friend, because friendship with the world is enmity with God.
(In response to whether a member would marry): Who would even want to marry someone who serves God?
This is representative of the second mental defense: that relationships are not personal, but doctrinal. It was inconceivable to the cult members – particular the children – that anyone could take personal offense with them, but that all disagreements were religiously based. Coupled with the above belief that moral and doctrinal purity are evident to all, this means that the objections outsiders bring against members of Westboro Baptist are taken not as potentially valid criticisms, but actually seen as de-facto indications of the righteousness of the group. Follow the logic here: those who disagree with me are either foolish or evil, and any objections aimed at me are not aimed just at me, but at my doctrinal beliefs. Therefore, if someone takes issue with me, then they only reveal their own wrong-headedness and hatred of God and my own correctness. This is why rational conversation got the documentarian nowhere: the simple fact that he disagreed was evidence that Westboro was doing everything properly. I wish I could say this was a rare attitude, but I cannot. In my church growing up, if someone brought up a conflict between their beliefs and a friend, church leaders would be quick to point out that this is affirmation of the correctness of the church member’s beliefs, and that the opposing party is not opposing them, but God himself. This is a brilliant piece of psychological work, for it takes all negative interpersonal interactions and uses them to bolster the individual’s already entrenched belief system.
I’m preaching what the Bible says – you’re preaching what your dark heart says. …. What you’re doing is you’re trying to turn yourself into God by saying things ought to be this way. … You are the one with the god complex.
That quote sent shudders down my spine, for I have heard the exact same thing – almost to the word – in my fundamentalist upbringing. Now those beliefs I was raised with, to be sure, are different from the Phelps group, but these defenses can easily be used to perpetuate deeply flawed belief systems. The fallacy here is an appeal to unanswerable authority. Appeals to unanswerable authority are, well, unanswerable. Do not confuse a sovereign God for an unanswerable one, for the God of the Muslim terrorist is unanswerable, and so long as his followers see him in a moral vacuum, their violence is also unanswerable. God does not answer to any higher authority, but nor does he exist apart from morality or reason. So in this sense, God – or rather, our concept of God (for none of us know God as he truly is, but as we can conceive of him in our finitude) – is answerable to the rational and sensible processes he himself has set up. I do not think we will ever be able to confine God to our intellectual understanding, but a God unapproachable by reason, by morality, and by the intellect is an unknowable God, and is not Emmanuel, our God with us. A simple indictment of a person’s presumed motives, and an appeal to unanswerable authority, can never bring someone closer to God.
We read the Scriptures, and we tell people what the standard is, we don’t do violence to people, we warn them that their sins are taking them to hell; we do a courteous and loving thing to them – that’s courteous and loving.
Though I could go on, this is the last of Westboro Baptist’s bizarre beliefs that I will bring up, and it is an important one: the redefinition of love. It became clear after several conversations, that cult members actually believed that they were doing a loving act in their protests and hate-mongering. This is because they have decided that what it means to love is to bring someone else into conformity with their doctrinal viewpoint. This too is characteristic of nearly all fundamentalism, though is mercifully more mitigated in most denominations. By this definition of love, the most loving act possible is to make true converts, by whatever means possible. But what does the Scripture say about love? We have the so-called ‘golden rule’, 1 Corinthians 13, and the profound statement from the Gospel of John:
My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.
It is unfortunate that the word translated life is such a terribly complex word in the Greek: it is not referring to the superficiality of biological life, but to the essence of life. The same word is translated soul in, ‘love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul…’ (and you know the rest). So this is love: to give yourself up, the entirety of your being, for your friends. But how many times did I hear in church that most loving thing I could do to my friends was bring them to Christ? I look back on this and answer with an emphatic no! The most loving thing God can do is bring someone to himself, whatever the personal cost (and it was great). The most loving thing I can do is to look out for the positive good of my friends in the best way I am able, whatever the personal cost. Rarely does this mean proselytize, although if I love God as I claim to, his name will certainly be on my lips. The Gospel is the good news, so wonderful that I ought to tell others about it, but it is hardly the most loving thing I can do.
Jesus Camp
Jesus Camp focuses on the methods by which children are exposed to a particular religious system. Though many fundamentalists (and I am sure my home church would be among them) might claim that they are unrecognizably different from the group portrayed in the documentary, there are many similarities. No, not all fundamentalists speak in tongues, or bring cardboard cut-outs of the president to their kids, or bring plastic fetuses to expose children to the idea of abortion. But they all do try and bring up their children to be good Christians, and we must scrutinize this methodology, whether it brings up followers of Christ or religious zealots.
Being raised in the church, and going to and later volunteering at multiple Vacation Bible Schools, and attending short summer camps (though nothing like the one in the documentary), I have noticed a basic strategy in such organizations. The kids are first excited, through music or games, and then once hyped up are presented with a religious message. This disturbed me even while I was volunteering at VBS, and I was always very cautious when presenting the Gospel, though I was (and still am) concerned with how these kids will relate to Jesus when they grow up. But this documentary made me realize, for the first time, just how malleable kids are. They can be easily pushed into a particular emotional state, and from there can be manipulated. Is it any wonder that many kids go off to college and fall away from the faith? For if their faith was just a process of absorbing the world around them – and that is precisely what children do – then once environmental constraints fall off, so does the veneer of religiosity.
Some of the emotional scenes in the documentary were intense. There was one in particular of a young boy expressing his doubts, and trying to repent of them, while the leaders watched on with concerned faces. It brought me to tears, because I could see so much devotion in him (and devotion which reminds me of myself at that age), and yet was his zeal based on knowledge? I cannot say, but I can say that it breaks my heart to see their hearts breaking, not knowing whether they are seeking God or simply assimilating to an environment that desires them to be a certain way.
I do not doubt the sincerity of these people’s beliefs, but I question whether an environment designed to produce religious adherents truly produces disciples. The adults involved are looking out for what they believe to be the kids’ interests. This comes back to the redefinition of love witnessed in the Westboro Baptist group: to love one’s kids is to make sure, at all costs, that they share one’s religious beliefs. And because of the concern for raising up children “in the way they should go”, the culture becomes very insular.
The notion of a ‘culture war’ is prominent in the documentary. It is an integral part of these people’s lives. I can honestly say that this aspect is not preached as much in most fundamentalist churches (and here I am in the South). Nevertheless, it does work its way in through the back door, if not outright from the pulpit. Christianity is very much aligned with conservativism, and non-Christians with liberalism. One of the worst insults, even among children, is to be called a liberal, and so even when it is rarely preached from the pulpit, the congregation is encouraged outside of Sunday morning service through their friends, church leaders, and parachurch organizations like Focus on the Family to wield their faith for the changing of the culture. Even where there is silence from the pulpit, the talk among the congregates fills it up with a load roar.
What did I take away from Jesus Camp? Among other things, that if a child can be talked into a religious experience, he or she can be talked out of it. That it is more important to raise children up so they can make a decision to follow Christ, rather than to teach them religious rhetoric. The former is an act of the will, the latter an act of culture. I also learned that, because of the intense self-preservation of such movements, it is impossible to approach a person in this culture on anything but their own terms. And from my own journey, I’ve realized that internal inconsistencies hold more weight than external arguments. These are not “bad people” – they are not trying to do anything but follow God – but I believe they are misguided. The worst way to engage them is in the terms of a culture war. For the war of my religion is no war at all, and my weapons no weapons at all, but what did Paul write about all these years ago? To be equipped with truth, righteousness, peace, faith (but not blindness!), salvation, and the Spirit of God. A strange war indeed, which lies not in culture or hatred or vitriol, but in which culture and hate and falsehood are overrun by love.
I was going to post something else, a few things I have been working on, but this has come to my attention lately and greatly moved me. Whether rightly or wrongly, I’ll let you judge. But I have gotten to see, over the past few months, a lot of men struggling with issues of sex, and it has grieved me.
We have this thing we have been given – sexuality and food and friends and drink and whatever else there is – and it is all from God. But we also have the character of God, revealed to us in the flesh through our savior. Neither of these can be rejected. Let us take what we have, and let us take what we know of God, and do with our gifts according to who we know him to be. The question is not how we should deny ourselves for God. But knowing what sex is, and knowing who God is, how then should we now live? Covenant is no longer covenant just because it is covenant, but because it is the outworking expression of God’s character, and it is how he has treated us. And adultery is not adultery just because it is adultery, but because it is opposed to God’s character. This is his command: to love each other as he has loved. Let us not indulge ourselves, and let us not condemn ourselves or each other, for I see Jesus in none of these things. Let us work out his image into our entire lives, leaving nothing out of his reach. And then, wherever we end up, we are free, and our religion of guilt has been left behind.
