Ponderings

On the eve of my daughter’s high school career, she waded into the waters of social activism spearheading a local concert on behalf of Darfur. As her roadee, I was given a crash course in the horror of war and found myself captivated by the pictures of the children of Darfur. So many, so young, so vulnerable. Childhood is so revered in American culture (to the point of objectification, it can be argued), and simultaneously so utterly vulnerable in war torn regions like Darfur.

I found myself yearning nostalgically for a renewed “Kindertransport”. Kindertransport was the name given the trainloads of Jewish children spirited out of Nazi Germany (and occupied territories) on the eve of WWII. Although the effort was not without liability, in the very least the organizers had given some 10,000 children a reprieve from the horror of the impending death camps. As a pacifist I am always scanning the margins for ways to work for peace without brandishing weapons, and I found myself wondering about the possibility of Kindertransport for the children of Darfur.

I spent hours on the phone and searching the internet for clues about what might already be in the works and how to get involved. The internet proved fruitless and the phone calls at best disheartening. For one thing, I was told, proving ‘orphan’ status is necessary (international law?) before a child can leave independently and such proof is nearly impossible in warring regions like Darfur. For another, I was chided, it’s imperialistic to presume that a child is better off in America with strangers than in Darfur with ethnic kin. Maybe so, though I can’t help but find the imperialism preferable to slaughter.

Although still supportive of efforts for Darfur, my daughter is now fully immersed in her second year of high school with all of the joys and challenges therein. A half a world away, however, the children of Darfur are not so lucky. Occasionally I pause to look at the pictures that stream through the news, I try not to look into their eyes.

As I read the morning news of Zoë’s Ark, an French aid group that tried unsuccessfully to evacuate a 100 orphans from Darfur, I found myself humbled. I read the article, and then another and another, shocked to discover that these aid workers are not regarded as heroes. To the contrary, they are being treated as criminals in the Sudan and as scurrilous kidnappers by the world press.

Having been down this road, ever so timidly, I know that a kindertransport is not without ethical weak spots and political discomfort. But as the daily news reports not only the scandal of the French aid group but also the food shortages in the refugee camps, the conscription of boys and the rape of girls, I find it difficult to throw stones at Zoë’s Ark. Offering sanctuary may not be without ethical liabilities but it is the heart of the faith we claim to hold dear.

Immoral is the apathy that is so mind-numbing.
Criminal is the silent hand wringing of the world
Scurrilous is the implication that political correctness trumps a child’s right to eat.

If Zoë’s Ark succeeds in getting children safely out of the war regions of the world, I’ll be standing in line to adopt. The negative media has at least given to us one small bit of hope - a name and address for offering sanctuary.

Blackwater – Take 3

When my friend accused me of becoming a Republican after my last column in defense of Erik Prince, I knew that I wasn’t done pondering the religious motivations of Blackwater’s founder.

For the sake of review, Blackwater USA is a private “security” company owned by Erik Prince. Blackwater has been the recipient of lucrative (no bid) contracts in Iraq. Prince has invested the profits into philanthropic endeavors that are at the crossroads of religion and politics. Specifically he has created Freiheit Foundation which funds the Acton Institute, the Institute for World Politics, and the Council for National Policy. My support of Prince was not intended to be construed as support for his particular brand of philanthropy nor for our growing reliance on private military contractors, but rather that scapegoating one player doesn’t change the game.

Another friend challenged my support pointing out that Prince is a Christian Supremacist. My immediate response was that ‘zealot’ might be the more appropriate term, but I have continued to ponder the meaning of supremacist. A supremacist is one who believes in a hierarchy of truth and a Christian supremacist believes Christianity to be the supreme truth. Essentially a Chrisitan Supremecist believes that Christians and Christian ideals are more valuable than their counterparts. The goal of Christian Supremecists is to dominate the political landscape, which is ‘dominionism’. Michelle Goldberg, in her book, “Kingdom Coming: The Rise of Christian Nationalism”, makes a compelling case that this is the current ground of our American political reality. Although the word ‘supremecist’ evokes for me visions of white hooded thugs, the word is certainly applicable to the the particular mix of religion and politics that we see emerging from this ground.

For me one of the most troubling pieces is the way in which Calvinism is linked to dominionism in these discussions. As a Calvin College graduate, a student of professors like Phillip Holtrop, I find myself repulsed by the ways in which Calvin’s teachings are perverted in the current political-religious climate. Although I am familiar with the stereotypes of predestination and election, I know that many students of Calvin have devoted their life’s work to digging beyond the stereotypes to debunk this hollow and dangerous rhetoric. What I learned during my years in the Dutch heartland of West Michigan is that all of God’s children are created in God’s image and thereby equal. The influences of Humanism in John Calvin’s work were interpreted for us as a challenge to be actively engaged in the world for the good of the most vulnerable in the world. Ethics were understood within context and the rise of the Moral Majority was understood to be in opposition to the essence of Calvinism. Although the so-called Christian dominionism claims Calvinist roots, it is not the version of Calvin that I learned at Calvin College in the early 1980’s. Hence my, perhaps misguided, instinct to defend the dutch West Michigan Prince family.

Ironically, the philanthropists that most clearly embodies the values I learned at Calvin College are probably Bill and Melinda Gates. Last I knew, the Gates family were members of a United Church of Christ congregation and I’m not aware that they have any ties to Calvinism per se. But at the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, I read the twin values that “all lives – no matter where they are being led – are of equal value” and “to whom much is given, much is expected.” In a nutshell, this is what I learned in my ethics classes with Professor Holtrop. But then, Erik Prince didn’t have Professor Holtrop. Though he is from the Dutch West Michigan community, he defected from the fold for college, shunning Calvin for another Michigan college, Hillsdale.

Maybe if Erik Prince had gone to Calvin College, he too might have learned to value all lives, not just American Christian ones.

In a ‘truth is stranger than fiction’ confession, I am feeling genuine sadness at the media attack of Blackwater USA.

Several weeks ago, I wrote about Blackwater and it’s owner, Erik Prince. Readers no doubt caught that my writing was not an endorsement; to the contrary, I was writing in opposition to our tax dollars being spent to hire Blackwater USA to help us wage our war in Iraq. As I read what is tantamount to a smear campaign unfolding in the press, however, I find myself instinctively wanting to defend Erik. The reason for my protective instinct is an unsolved mystery. Perhaps I’m moved because of our Michigan connection or maybe because his mother is a generous patron (and Board member) of my alma mater. Regardless, I feel compelled to speak a word in defense of Erik Prince and Blackwater USA.

If we want to entertain a discussion about the use of contract military forces, I would support the discussion. I am hard pressed to believe that any company has a right to profit on human suffering, and war making in undeniably such. None of the questions raised about Blackwater, however, addresses the ethics of using mercenary forces. Removing Blackwater from Iraq without changing our dependence upon contract military forces will be a bonanza for Halliburton and the others. Although there are corporate interests in the removal of Blackwater for Iraq, these interests are not noted in the current discussion. Certainly increasing, not decreasing, competition is in the taxpayers best interest. If taxpayer’s interest is at the heart of the Blackwater smear, we should expand the discussion to include all contract militaries. The ethical implications of using such forces is not, however, on the table.

The media attention is on the actions and efficacy of one specific company, namely Blackwater USA. Admittedly I am not a military scholar. I have little patience for the games of war and no tolerance for ‘collateral damage’. My own definition of a pro-life stance doesn’t allow for such casual dismissal of human life. Still, I find remarkably hypocritical for pro-war advocates to denegrade Blackwater operations. The blood of Hadifa is on the hands of enlisted men, not mercenaries. The debacle at Abu Ghraib was enlisted soldiers, not corporate employees. My understanding is that the training received by Blackwater employees is typically even more strenuous or expansive than that offered by Pentagon. As I researched Blackwater, I was consistently impressed with the quality and professionalism of this company’s work. Say what you will about Eric and his Navy Seal buddies, they are serious about quality. Yes, people die. No, not all of them have been wearing uniforms. Tragically, this is reality of modern warfare regardless of the signature on the paycheck.

Since we are committing neither to the war’s end nor the reduction of private warriors, one wonders why Blackwater stories get top billing in the press. If the press is a barometer of our public thirst, clearly the thirst is for blood. Fed up with our youth dying in a war that has no exit strategy, a looming deficit that will plague our grandchildren, and a national image tarnished, we want some proverbial heads to roll. Enter the sacrificial lamb. As the good book says, ‘better for one to die for many than for the many to die for the one.’

Undeniably Blackwater makes a good sacrificial lamb. As a darling of the Republican party now publicly vilified, this scandal offers a focal point for our growing rage about this endless war. Blackwater as the sacrificial lamb is brilliant strategy, but it is a decoy. Focused on the effigy of Blackwater, we are distracted from the growing chaos in a country we invaded for the publicly stated purpose of helping. Convinced that Blackwater is the bad apple, we are less likely to ask for clarity about the role of Halliburton, Aegis Defense Services and DynCorp International. With Blackwater tied to the altar, it is possible that we may even stop looking for the infamous WMD’s.

My sadness is in part for Erik, but more for my nation and the ease at which we can be misled. Sacrificial lambs are ineffective at best and never, imho, justified.

When I hear the KWMU fall membership drive begin, I know the air is getting cooler and its also time to begin thinking about the EUCC fall membership drive. The proper theological jargon is “stewardship campaign” and we’re not supposed to talk about memberships or suggested amounts but rather about tithes (percentages of income) and gratitude (generosity). At the end of the day, however, we use the pledges from the “stewardship campaign” the same way that KWMU uses the “membership drive” pledges. We build our programming budget for the coming year based on the pledges received.

Like all non-profits, this local church is trying to create silk without many worms. EUCC is typical in many ways; our building needs attention, our staff donates many hours, and our technology isn’t cutting edge. We celebrate the beginning of the capital campaign, the new color copier, and the supportive community provided for our staff. In the interest of full disclosure, though, I should point out that routine building maintenance is not capital improvement. Last week your People Team and Finance Team leaders (Laura and Nick) wanted to talk with me about staff salaries for 2008. Armed with research, they pointed out that while some of our salaries are within the range of comparables, none are above the grid and several are significantly below. As I ponder their concern in light of our particularly gifted staff, I know that they are right. How do we change this?

One option is to increase the number of people sharing in the support of this community. Interestingly, the only time I hear a plea for larger membership is at budget time because our size is one aspect of EUCC that most members cherish. We are a community large enough to offer full programming yet small enough to feel like a community. Often churches of our size have alternative sources of funding. Although we have a modest endowment and contributions from those who share our space, neither are substantial sources of revenue for us. We are almost exclusively dependent upon member contributions so at budget time we wish there were more of us.

As I ponder the challenge offered by your leaders, essentially a challenge to fully fund our program, I am struck by the candor of the KWMU membership drive. Using that same candor and a calculator, the puzzle works out pretty quickly. Although we recorded 108 pledges last year, 140 folks have already contributed this year. Let’s assume that 125 families pledged for 2008. At $200 per month, 125 pledges would total $300,000, enabling a fully funded staff and a reasonably well maintained building. Admittedly a pledge of $200 per month isn’t pocket change. Some incomes are already stretched too thin to make this kind of pledge while others are able to contribute much more than $200 per month. Most importantly, with inclusivity central to our vision, we want to be clear that financial contributions are not a ticket to admission. KWMU’s “a dollar a day” memberships are compelling in their accessibility and percentage giving (tithing) may be more equitable. Still, the math is tantalizingly simple. A “membership drive” for 125 pledges of $200 monthly.

I’m in, and looking for 124 others.

The bane and blessing of being an external processor is the transparency of my politics. There is no one in my congregation who wonders about my view of the war, or the current administration, or the state of healthcare in America, or any number of issues. Because I process ideas by talking (or writing), I have few secrets. The problem with the transparency has been a lack of dialogue partners. An unabashed liberal, “conservatives” see me coming and cross the road before I get to them.

I have recently discovered a small group of friends who self-identify as conservatives. They are a hearty lot and defy the odds, agreeing to meet with me occasionally to tell me about life on the other side of the fence. Recently one of these dear friends was sharing how hurtful it is when her friends deride our current President. She explained that she has deep respect for both the man and the office and that the casual derision is insulting. Since my job is to listen, not persuade, I was listening rather than thinking of my retort, listening to my friend’s words and also to the emotion that lie beneath them. It is the sadness of my friend’s voice that has stayed with me. Hearing her pain, I find myself wondering about the role of protest in society.

Having grown up in the shadow of the Third Reich, I knew that evil at one time had a name and face. Evil became incarnate in a short man with close-cropped dark hair and a bit of mustache, a man with fiery speech and jerky motions, a man who was popularly elected before becoming a demagogue. As I studied religion at the close of the last millennium, my heroes were the men and women of faith that dared to name the evil in their day. Men like Dietrich Bonhoeffer. While legions of ordinary German citizens worked in the Nazi war machine, this seemingly lone man of faith dared to name the incarnate evil and actually participated in an assassination attempt. A martyr who was executed for the failed coup, he nonetheless continues to inspire movements of dissent around the world. To be a person of faith, then, is to be willing to put one’s life on the line to name the evil incarnate in our world. If it were a leader in Iraq, in North Korea, or even in the United States, that embodies evil, the call of the faithful is to stand publicly against that embodiment. I want to explain to my friend that if I see even our President embodying evil, I have a moral obligation to name it as such.

The problem is that I cannot be sure. My friend watches the same man make the same decisions, and yet she reaches a dramatically different conclusion. Although I can write a persuasive essay on the embodiment of evil, my counterparts across the aisle can write an even better one about the good embodied in our government. In a war of words, we begin to look like Seuss’ “Butter Battle Book” with growing weapons and diminishing moral ground. With red on one side and blue on the other, we are absolutely convinced that our side is good. Except that, we cannot be sure.

Some things we can know for sure. I can be sure that every child deserves a healthy, safe, and moral start in life. Yet as soon as we begin to talk about the delivery of safe and healthy and moral, my certitude begins to wane. I can be sure that the presence of God wrests in each one of God’s children, but that is all that I can claim with certainty. To be sure, that certainty is not nothing. Believing God’s presence to be within the people, I have certainty about the immorality of torture. That same believing, however, makes it difficult to dismiss any one person as evil incarnate - either George Bush or Saddam Hussein or even Osama bin Laden!

Quite frankly, I find this ambiguity to be annoying. I would like to know which guys are the good ones and which are evil. Perhaps it is not irrelevant that Bonhoeffer died before his 40th birthday. I am quite certain that before my 40th birthday I knew the difference. With my eyesight failing and my friendships growing, I am not so sure anymore. I think if Bonhoeffer had been a little older, he would have survived the war. But we would have been the poorer for it.