John Hagee says Socialism leads to the Antichrist, but shouldn’t that be a good thing?

 

John Hagee believes that America has a one-way ticket to Socialism, which isn’t surprising if you’ve listened to any of his sermons over the past several years. I disagree with his assessment, but that’s not the point I want to make.

Instead, I’d like to observe a strange disconnect in Hagee’s theology.

In John Hagee’s eschatology, the emergence of the antichrist precedes the second coming of Jesus Christ. The latter is viewed as the culmination of God’s plan for humanity, and it cannot be accomplished without the former.

The antichrist must emerge to power, seduce the nations, martyr Christians, unite the governments of the world, etc., etc., before Jesus can return to judge the world and rule with his saints for 1,000 years. That is an unescapable fact, one that cannot be avoided or even delayed.

If America is becoming socialist, and if socialism facilitates the emergence of the antichrist, and if the antichrist is a necessary precursor to Jesus’ return, shouldn’t Hagee actually be excited? Or at the very least, shouldn’t Hagee do everything in his power to avoid America becoming a socialist country?

I just don’t get it.

If Socialism is requisite for the antichrist, and Obama’s a socialist, then Christians ought to be voting for Obama in massive quantities so that the antichrist can emerge more quickly and easily, thus hastening Christ’s return in judgment and victory.

Thomas Jefferson on Health Care?

A friend of mine recently posted this to Facebook:

In response to the Healthcare debate – “To compel a man to furnish funds for the propagation of ideas he disbelieves and abhors, is sinful and tyrannical.” – Thomas Jefferson

I raised a few objections over Facebook, but the character limits are, well, limiting, so I thought I would post them here in more developed form.

First, I think that for the right to use this argument is at best self-serving and at worst hypocritical.

Self-serving: I object to the war in Iraq. I might even go so far as to say that I “abhor the idea” of our entire foreign policy generally. But, I still pay my taxes – taxes that are used to fund the very foreign policy that I abhor. Would Thomas Jefferson argue that I am no longer obligated to pay taxes on such grounds? Or would he argue that the government should be forced to bend its policy around my particular moral stance on particular wars? Of course not. It’s ludicrous to even suggest so.

Furthermore, would the right acknowledge that argument as legitimate if I raised it in protest against our foreign policy? Of course not. The right is using an argument to its own advantage when it suits their purposes, even though they would dismiss the very same argument out of hand if it were used against their foreign policy. That’s the very definition of a self-serving.

Hypocritical: It’s possible that the right realizes all this, but they are using the argument anyway. That would be the very definition of hypocrisy.

Second, to use Thomas Jefferson this way is little more than prooftexting (a word that gets used a lot in Christian exegesis). Jefferson’s comment has a specific cultural, political, and historical context – specifically that the colonies were being taxed (disproportionately?) without representation. His statement was made in that specific context and should be read in that specific context. It does not have a direct reference to health care, because as one FB commenter pointed out, the founding fathers would have had no comprehension of our contemporary health care system.

(Of course it’s possible that Jefferson would have objected to all of the current legislation that’s being debated – but if he would have, this comment alone wouldn’t tell us so)

Third, as the same FB commenter rightly claimed, healthcare is not a Constitutional right, because the founding fathers did not have any conception of health care as we know it. But, no one is arguing that it is; rather, some of us are arguing that it should be. The founding fathers did not have any conception of health care as we know it, and that is precisely the point. They could not have made a Constitutional right out of something that did not exist yet (and consequently of which they had no knowledge).

Fourth, from a Christian perspective, why is providing universal health care to everyone – including the working poor who could never afford insurance – be something to “abhor”? Didn’t Jesus have a few things to say about caring for the poor? I could cite several passages (but this post is already the opposite of short), so I’ll cite one in particular:

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what’s coming to you in this kingdom. It’s been ready for you since the world’s foundation. And here’s why:
I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.’

“Then those ‘sheep’ are going to say, ‘Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?’ Then the King will say, ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.’

Lest I be guilty of prooftexting myself, let me make clear that I don’t think Jesus’ words here establish that all Christians must support universal health care. Instead, Jesus’ words undermine the notion that universal health care is worthy of abhorrence.

On theological grounds and on the grounds of common sense, I really don’t understand how adopting a government policy that ensures that the poor are cared for qualifies as something to be “abhored.”

I welcome your thoughts. I’m sure there are some who disagree, and I would love to hear how you respond.

**UPDATE**

The friend who originally posted this expanded on his original post and let me know that what he was opposed to is a provision that would use taxpayer money to fund elective abortions. I’ll join him in protest if that clause makes it into the final bill.

Conformity vs. Unity

At lunch this afternoon, I read an interesting blogpost about the differences between conformity and unity — and where Christians can err when it comes to the two.

I left some stream-of-thought comments at the blog, but I quickly realized it’s a topic that warrants some further thought and some additional theological framing.

Here’s my best stab. I’d welcome yours.

As the author argues (my paraphrase), conformity is primarily about defining oneself and one’s group through negation — that is, we are we who are because we have subtracted X, Y, and Z from what we do and who we are. These groups may also define themselves by what they do, but that positive element usually takes an “us over against you” type of mentality. In short, someone from this group might say, “I’m a good person because I don’t drink, smoke, or chew, and I read my Bible and pray for two hours a day. How about you?”

She gives a very good example, the Pharisees of Jesus’ day. This group largely derived its identity from what it did and did not do over against its contemporary culture. It that defined itself by saying, “We are not you because we don’t do _____ and practice ________”

She goes on to correctly notice the parallels between the way the Pharisees defined themselves as a group and the way we tend to do so as Evangelicals. In her words,

For example: “A true Christian will not drink.” “A true Christian will never swear.” “A true Christian doesn’t wear high heels.” “A true Christian is not gay.” “A true Christian will never have premarital sex.” “A true Christian follows everything their Christian leader says.” “A true Christian does not believe in Evolution.” “A true Christian knows AIDS is God’s punishment for sexual deviants.” “And the way we can tell you are a true Christian is that you believe what every other true Christian believes; you say what every other true Christian says.”

Her argument blossoms with the claim,

The Pharisees, who led many astray and placed burdens on people that they were never meant to carry, were about conformity. Christ, from what I can tell, and what I believe, is about unity.

By her definition, unity does not necessarily imply sameness or agreement but rather implies harmony and wholeness. Conformity breaks us apart because conformity is inherently exclusive, i.e., you can only join the club if you do and say as I do. By contrast, unity is inherently inclusive because it does not insist that you do and say as I do.

All in all, I think there are some great points here, and the post has clearly got my own wheels turning. And I’d like to share some of my thoughts, as well as welcome yours.

Here, the terms conformity and unity are primarily employed sociologically, and that in itself isn’t a bad thing. But, I think that we can think about these terms theologically as well, and if we do, we might end up understanding them differently.

If conformity is defined as uncritically submitting to a set of arbitrary beliefs and practices, then let’s chuck it out the windows – I agree wholeheartedly. But what if we think about conformity in terms of sanctification, i.e., in terms of being continually renewed by God’s Spirit and being continually conformed to God’s image. If we frame “conformity” that way, isn’t it a thing to be desired?

And what about the term “unity.” It’s a term that is touted by liberals and conservatives alike, but usually means very different things depending on who you ask. Here, I get the impression the term is employed to describe a radically inclusive unity that would include anyone who names Jesus as their Lord. That’s a pretty amazing picture, I think, and I can only add one other point for clarity. If we are going to propose unity as the goal of the church, then we should be clear about what we mean, and I would suggest something like this. Christians pursue unity when and only when we collectively submit our collective will to the will of Christ. That type of unity allows for diversity – doubt, questions, and (loving) debate among Christians – and is thus inclusive. But it avoids the pitfall of an “anything goes” mentality by binding itself to Christ as the definitive qualifier.

That’s the type of church I desperately want to be a part of. The type that refuses to define itself in “us against them” terms. The type that takes Jesus seriously and is willing to admit that others may disagree and still take Jesus just as seriously. The type of church that puts more emphasis on living into the teachings of Jesus vs. fighting about which political party to embrace.

And maybe one reason why it was so hard for me to find a job is because those churches are few and far between …

Easter and Tradition

Jesus said (quoting Isaiah),

You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to the traditions of men… (Mark 7:8)

For a long time, I thought that Jesus meant that everyone who sings hymns from hymnals and stands (or sits) perfectly still during worship

was just as guilty of abandoning the commands of God in favor of human traditions as the Pharisees were.

It’s not as if I was the first to ever think this way. In fact, although I didn’t know it at the time, I was in many ways simply being a good Protestant. By taking the words of Jesus seriously and using them as the plumb line for corporate worship, I was attempting to do what had been done time and again before me.

Image via Wikipedia

Through a long and painful process, however, I have come to realize that I was wrong. Not about using Jesus’ words as a plumb line, but wrong about how I had interpreted him.

I’ve come to believe that there is both helpful and harmful tradition.

Harmful tradition is idolatrous. This is tradition for its own sake and is a hollow, empty shell. This includes going to church merely out of a sense of duty. Taking communion because it just happens to be the Sunday your church is doing it. Mouthing the words of worship without actually meaning them. Leaving everything to do with Jesus and his gospel behind when you drive out of the parking lot.

On the other hand, there is helpful tradition. Tradition helps us when ritual, routine, and practice intersect with heart-felt faith. In Paul’s words, traditions benefits us when form and power come together. This happens when Christians attend weekly worship because they want to join with others in worship and be spurred to good works by the teaching of the Gospel. When Christians take communion in remembrance of Jesus’ sacrifice and to be more fully transformed into his image. When church isn’t just a building full of individuals but an organic, living movement who works to establish God’s king on Sunday and Monday and Tuesday and …

I’ve been revisiting some of these thoughts recently, because Easter is quickly approaching, and I am currently attending a church that doesn’t pay much attention to tradition. Just so I’m clear, I don’t necessarily think that’s a good or bad thing — it’s mostly neutral.

But, when it comes to the church calendar — especially an event as important as Easter — I find myself hungering for some healthy church tradition. By taking part in some of those ancient traditions, I feel more connected to the historic church — the millions of Christians who have lived and died in our 2,000 year history.

As an example of what I mean, let me share the most meaningful Easter tradition I’ve ever taken part in.

While in seminary, I attended a sunrise service at an Episcopal church. It began while it was still dark, and we processed together from outside the church into the cathedral together. This dark journey is meant to symbolize Jesus’ own journey from life to death — from the light of life to the darkness of death in a tomb. The service itself was highly ritualized, but I found deep meaning in those rituals. At the conclusion of the service, we processed together to where our journey began — back outside the church where the sun was just rising. Our short journey from the dark cathedral back outside where the sun was just rising was meant to mirror Christ’s resurrection, or his passing from darkness back to light. Once outside, the priest ceremonially sprinkled water over us to remind us of our baptism and our covenant with God as God’s children.

Left that service more aware of the importance of Jesus’ resurrection than I had ever been in my life. And I found my own faith revitalized as I considered my own baptism and the journey of faith that has followed it. And I felt reconnected to the church, to the millions who have come before me, the millions who joined me in worship that day, and the millions who will worship together one day when Jesus returns.

I don’t know what this Easter will hold. I do know that the worship service I will attend won’t look anything like the one I just described. But that’s okay, because ultimately, I’m not an experience seeker, and my faith doesn’t depend on replicating that type of emotional experience.

But I do hope that as this monumental day approaches that you and I are able to recapture the importance of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection and our connectedness to his church — past, present, and future.

Happy Easter.

Breath Prayer

Thanks to my wonderful college professor, MoJo, I am familiar with a type of prayer called Breath Prayer.

There are a few different models for how breath prayer can be practiced. Some say that breath prayers are prayers that you can say in one breath; obviously, these would be short, often a few words, a phrase, or a sentence — and often from Scripture, a Creed, or another liturgical source.

For example (and this is the prayer I pray most commonly), “Jesus Christ, Son of David, have mercy on me.”

Another model is to pray one phrase while breathing in and another while breathing out.

For example, breathing in, “Lord have mercy.” And breathing out, “Christ have mercy.”

Image by ratterrell via Flickr

If you’re like me, then prayer doesn’t always come easy. I’ve found that this can be one way to pratice praying continually — as impossible as that may seem.

So, if this sounds at all appealing, join me as I try to re-integrate this practice into my daily routine. Let me know if it works for you, and post any prayers that are meaningful to you.