Living in Honor of the Buffalo Soldiers of the 92nd (WWII)...

I've never gotten why blacks have fought so valiantly in American wars. I shouldn't say it quite like that. I do get it somewhat, but I am extremely ambivalent toward it. I know the heart it takes, I appreciate the sacrifice in a way words can't do justice (it's one of the reasons I continue to live here), but I struggle to stomach all that America has put black soldier's through before, during and after their service. I have nowhere to put that hurt.

I watched a tribute to one particular soldier from WWII with ties to Italy reported on NBC by Tom Brokaw tonight as apart of the closing coverage of the Olympics. His name is Vernon Baker. My God, I can't put into words how he moved me. I fought back tears the entire length of the 45-minute tribute.

So many white Americans simply assume that Blacks have every reason to feel unambiguously proud to be an American ("where at least I know I'm free," right?). I will forever be grateful to Brokaw for being more empathetic. In the course of his interview with Baker, he expressed his own awe regarding black military involvement. How did you not fly into a rage? Brokaw asks. Baker's response was so enlightening and so telling, "This is our only country. If we didn't fight for it, it might end up belonging to someone else."

I don't really know what to say about that. My heart soars and is sore all at the same time. What's telling to me is that it seems to explain why the majority of the people now left at the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit (Chapel Hill Harvester Church)—once a multi-racial church of 12,000+ members—are Black.

Fredrick Douglass in the narrative of his life notes with sadness how Black slaves would own the infirmities of their masters. "How we feels today master?" "I don't know why ya'll are so hard on bossman; he's always been good to us Colored folks."

It may be an unfairly broad generalization, but white folks seemed to have long figured out what the formerly colonized are just now beginning to realize: that in the global market construct one can always just move on. Loyalty is not at a premium. (Why am I hearing Kenny Rogers in my mind's ear, "You've got to know when to hold 'em; know when to fold 'em; know when to walk away; know when to run…")

I've recently gotten pretty actively involved in what's known as the Emergent conversation, a global village of folks rethinking what it means to be the Church in the world for the good of the world. We've been encouraging the voice of persons from historically marginalized groups to come forward and be heard. I had a good friend of mine who is not a part of the Emergent dialogue—but ironically introduced me to it—warn me to keep my eye's open. Jokingly he observed, "Beige folks are good for moving on… You'll turn around and Emergent will be a predominantly Black organization, and they'll be over there in a new conversation called 'Manifest!'" Though hilarious, it's also sobering.

Like I said I don't know how all this fits together. Vernon Baker's hopes for the future inspire me to continue to hope. It's not always easy. "Don't hate," Vernon's grandfather told him, "because hate will destroy you." Now that's good theology. Lasting Valor is Baker's biography.

"Negroes are doing their bit—their supreme bit—not for glory, not for honor, but for what I think is the generation to come." ~black soldier in WWII

The South is Rising Again

Coming out of the Circus Friday afternoon my eyes fell upon the belt-buckle of a teenager sporting a cowboy hat. In triumphant lettering it announced to the world that "the South will rise again!" I had to swallow hard to resist the urge to prove him wrong right then and there. I chalked it up to the ignorance of youth. Little did I know how quickly his prophecy would come true.

Today South Dakota voted into law sweeping anti-choice legislation that codifies the belief that "life begins at fertilization" and makes abortion a criminal offense if performed or received for any reason other than that delivery would threaten the mother's life (how hard is that going to be to prove?).

Now, I can appreciate the belief that life begins at conception. Although I disagree (a fetus may have the utmost potential for life, but one is hard pressed to make the case that it is a thriving, independent, sentient human being in and of itself at that point in its development), you've got to respect the desire to honor the sanctity of life. I stand in solidarity with efforts made to emphasize the many alternatives to abortion and respect efforts to convince women not to abort. I am even more encouraged by efforts to alleviate the socio-economic realities that make abortion recourse for so many in the first place. I too long for the day that abortions are unnecessary and no more. However, when it comes to writing those spiritual longings public policy, I cringe.

I cringe because the thought takes me back to a not so distant enough past. Abortion as a spiritual or moral concern is noble. Nevertheless, to pursue an anti- or no-choice public policy is to pursue a public policy of slavery. That's right, I said "slavery"… and not just for effect. I think many of us misunderstand what made slavery a political concern, i.e. requiring a public policy resolution.

Slavery became a political concern not because some people had spiritual or moral objections to it. Don't get me wrong. As a descendent of slaves I definitely appreciate those objections, but people had since the founding of this nation argued their spiritual, scriptural and moral convictions for and against slavery. Moral objection in terms of public discourse was a moot point. That's what made this country unique. People had the right to debate and protest issues. Such social activism was protected as freedom of speech and religion. And the ideal of the separation of church and state meant that no one group would ever be able to institute a law to limit the rights of another based solely upon their religious convictions. Slavery was a grave concern no doubt, but not just a moral one.

Slavery was a public policy concern because America as a system of laws could not long exist unreconciled between a declaration of birth that pronounce "all men [humanity]… created equal" and a constitutional birthright that ascribe some men 3/5 recognition in some instances and no recognition in others. It was the same regarding women's suffrage. These were the issues that could be resolved within the parameters of politics. Slaves and women were a part of the totality of humanity to whom Thomas Jefferson was appealing and must have recognition as such. The peculiar institution (peculiar for this very reason, for the first time in the history of "slavery" slaves were considered sub-human, property) and Anglo gender norms sought to recognize the full, unequivocal, independent, self-determining humanity of some and not of others. Such a public policy was unsustainable for a variety of reasons; thus, demanded political redress.

Now with a majority "vote of conscience" the S Dakota legislature has re-enacted the same failed, unjust public policy, seeking to protect the rights of the unborn who are not yet thriving, independent, self-determining individuals, while willfully abridging the freedom of self-determination for women who are indisputably vital, independent, sentient individuals. That's slavery. I understand the heart, but must take exception to the actions.

What's next? Telling people when and where they can protest… political denial of basic human dignities (food, shelter, clothing, education, work and healthcare)... government sanctioned corporate maltreatment of individuals... forced "stop-lost" conscription... waging unjust wars on half the earth... gobal economic colonialism...

The South is rising.

Bush Can't Have It Both Ways

You can't justify the preemptive "War on Terror", all the erosion of civil liberties, unprecedented expansion of Presidential authority and the compromise of democratic ideals by simply declaring that we now live in a "post-911 world," then turn around and pronounce that you will veto any attempt to derail the United Arab Emirates taking over management of 6 US east coast sea ports. Either the post-911 world is a thing to be feared or the politics of fear have been over-played, and the Bush administration knows it.

My guess is that if you were to follow the money it would begin to make perfect sense why the administration is in favor of a UAE port management takeover, even as the politics of fear make sense in light of the money involved.

The Buddha Had It Right...

The Buddha had it right: desire is the root of suffering. The modern Christian apologist might immediately respond, "Well, the desire not to desire is a desire in itself," and thus dismiss the power of this ever so pivotal truth (thinking he has once again defended the faith against the creeping compromise of acknowledging the light found in other faith traditions). But I have dared to reconsider the Buddha's exhortation.

That isn't to say that all desires, aspirations and hopes are bad. To think that would be down right... unAmerican? It all depends what one aspires towards. The way of Jesus teaches that the moment we aspire toward our own self-interests we're headed for trouble—and are going to cause the suffering of others in the process. There is absolutely, positively, unequivocally no way to escape the consequence (suffering) of self-interested aspiration, yet we put good effort into it. We've constructed economic systems, construed theologies, manufactured art and institutionalized curricula in an attempt to enshrine our desire to aspire towards our own self-interest in hopes that what accrues to our benefit would one day somehow take the evolutionary leap of becoming the good of others.

I was talking with a friend about all this last night. It would seem to me that if we desire a better world (which is an other-interested aspiration) we must start by living toward that which serves other than our own self-interests. It's the ethic of preferring others over ourselves. That doesn't mean that nothing we do ever benefits us personally, but our own benefit becomes a serendipity of becoming our brother's keeper. Such thinking may be counter-intuitive, but it's a damn bit more sustainable than this get-as-much-as-you-can-for-you-and-yours ethic that even people of faith now practice. What happens when those who consistently come up with the short end of the stick get sick of suffering or simply slaving in the interest of those who devalue them?

Pimpin' in the Name of the Lawd

I just found out today about Earl Paulk's betrayal of all I hold dear. I was literally sick to my stomach when I heard. Paulk's history of alleged molestation, sexual harassment and abuse at the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit (Chapel Hill Harvester Church) dates back to the 1960's. He has been bizarrely successful in minimizing the media exposure of his predatorial exploits. In 2004, in a profound act of courage, after 14 years of victimization Mona Brewer finally came forward to bring her abuser to justice.

I stand in solidarity with Mona Brewer, Cindy Hall and all the women, girls, their families and fellow congregants victimized by Paulk, his brother and all that conspired with them. I was glad when I heard Mona's husband, Bobby, confronted Paulk and broke his nose. I wish I had such restraint.

What touches me deepest though, in this moment of reflection, is the realization that Paulk's betrayal was almost inevitable. The pursuit of power corrupts. Institutionalized religion fans the flames of desire for power in a way that few other experiences can, particularly in a modern Christendom that patterns its organization after large global corporations. In a day and age when the bishop of a prominent Atlanta mega-church can say something to the effect, "I'm the head of a multi-million dollar global corporation, I refuse to die poor!" How long would a pastor caught up in the transactional pursuit of that kind of power accept the possibility (let alone reality) of going to bed without getting some?

So how do we mediate the corruptive influences of the absurd pursuit for power that tempts so many church leaders? I believe guilds of faith (churches) must require that their leadership put in place self-imposed mechanisms that undermine the accumulation of power. Not just a balance on power, I'm talking about an intentional divesture of it.

From what I understand, the founders of Ben & Jerry's instituted a policy at the onset of their endeavors that said something like the top paid employee would never make more than seven times (?) what the least paid makes. Thus, if execs wanted to make more, everyone would have to come up as well. Whether my recollection is accurate or not, it gives an idea of what can be.

What if pastors were to refuse to move outside of their church's immediate community? What if pastors refused to accept salary in excess of twice the median annual income of their congregation or community? What if pastors chose to commission the formation of new fellowships under new leadership once their congregation's numbers topped a predetermined tipping point? What if pastors… did any- and everything they could to stay in full, intimate, accountable relationship with their congregants instead of seeking the authority and distance sought by their corporate executive counterparts?

Professional distance is a crock in a post-modern, post-colonial world of ministry. The desire for money, sex and influence will only surrender to immersion in and accountability to the very fellowship one has been called to lead. Otherwise a pastor's corruption is only a matter of time and opportunity. I'm almost certain of it.

Pilgrimage to Where?

Somewhere along the way Christians seem to have decided that the goal of a consecrated life was to escape this world. What's that about? Didn't God create this world and us as a part of it?

As I've started to grow in a missional way of seeing things, I've gone back to re-evaluate some of the familiar metaphor that has shaped my life to this point. One in particular is the metaphor of pilgrimage.

My fore-parents sang the song "I'm on My Way to Canaan Land." The song admonishes that even "if my mother don't go I'll [need to] journey on." They also told me that "this world is not my home." It is with these presuppositions that I set out with John Bunyan's Christian, leaving behind the City of Destruction, which I interpreted to be "this world and all it has to offer me," in search of the Celestial City, which I assumed would be Heaven. With a theology such as this, no wonder escape-the-world, ignore-the-world or exploit-the-world's-resources seems consistent with the save-the-world calling most Christians also claim.

Nowadays I don't interpret things quite the same way, but instead of dismissing my former conceptions as total bunk (which seems to me even more ridiculous) I've chosen rather to reframe my understanding of this pilgrim metaphor that has been handed down to me. What if "Canaan Land"—our metaphoric Promised Land (as pledged by God to the Jews)—is not heaven but the earth made new? It's not such a novel idea; the biblical canon ends with this thought. Taking it a step further, what if the journey from this world to the next that Moses and Mohammad and the Buddha and Confucius and (in my estimation most fully) Jesus embodied is not an abandonment of the world as it is but an embrace of all she was created to become? Our pilgrimage then would be in our hopefully ever-expanding ability to perceive and understand and embrace and appreciate this new world... and to help bring it into existence.

I don't know about you, but I find such thoughts wonderfully liberating and pregnant with possibility. It also makes me wonder whether my previously more narrow and flattened interpretations of the truths hand down to me hasn't been a diminution of my forebears wisdom: my own self-serving ideas of what was meant and not actually what was being communicated to me.