In which I tell you how your religion works

On November 18, 2015November 25, 2015 By Luther M. SilerIn Politics127 Comments

christianity_versus_other_religions_blog-horngsaw I am not a Christian. That fact has probably been perfectly clear for a very long time; it doesn’t take a whole lot of reading around here to figure it out.

What may be less clear to non long-time visitors: Chances are I know way more about Christianity than you do. Is that a guarantee? No, not at all. But most of you don’t have a Master’s degree in Biblical studies. I do. And I got it from one of the best divinity schools in the country. So chances are I know more about Christianity and Western religion in general than you do.

I’ve been thinking about Jesus a lot in the last few days. Maybe I should go full wanker here and call him Yeshua, or something, to rid him of some of the cruft that’s accumulated over the past 2000 years, but the point is I’ve spent a lot of time in the last few days thinking about Jesus. And also, in those last few days, I’ve watched an awful lot of people who not only call themselves Christians but tend to openly boast about their Christianity— in and of itself, an unChristian act— completely pervert the meaning of their own religion. To a degree that, frankly, should be physically painful along with spiritually.

All religions concern themselves with charity. All religions concern themselves with the poor. But I don’t think I’m going out on too much of a limb when I say that, of the three major Western religions at least (I’m hedging on Buddhism, mostly, which I know little about) there is no figure who is so concerned with the poor and dispossessed as is Jesus. Treatment of the poor is very nearly the whole of Jesus’ ministry. And his feelings on the matter, despite 2000 years and who knows how many translations (well, okay, two) of his original words, are perfectly clear:

31 “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. 32 All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, 33 and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. 34 Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; 35 for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ 37 Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? 38 And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? 39 And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ 40 And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family,[g] you did it to me.’ 41 Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; 42 for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ 44 Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?’ 45 Then he will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ 46 And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”

That’s Matthew 25, in case you don’t recognize it. The translation is the NRSV, which I generally find to be the most accurate translation available; there was a time where if it was the Hebrew Bible I would have translated it myself but my Hebrew is terribly rusty and my Greek is virtually nonexistent so I have to trust the translators.

That said, though, this is really, really, crystal clear. It is unambiguous and open. It is not a matter for debate and not a matter of opinion, a word American Christians are really fond of tossing around.

Just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.

There are reasons to oppose bringing Syrian refugees to America. None of them are good reasons. Most of them are sickeningly racist. And all of them are deeply, obviously, blatantly and clearly unChristian. You cannot object to helping these people and call yourself a Christian. Jesus himself would rebuke you. He already has, in fact. Reread verses 41-46 if you need to. If you refuse to help the sick and the destitute and the needy, you are going to Hell.

There is literally no way to make that any clearer. Christians are commanded to help those who are in need. Not requested. Not asked. Not begged. Commanded. In plain and clear language. By Jesus. There’s no way to wriggle out of this, folks. You either help these people– or, to do the absolute minimum, get the hell out of their way– or by the words of the man you consider the son of God you are going to Hell.

Let’s change the subject a bit, and talk about cowardice. I have grown desperately tired of fear being the sole criterion by which every political decision is made in this country, particularly by the same people who are so hungry to convince you of their own toughness in every other set of circumstances.

I do not fear terrorism. I do not fear “terrorists.” I do not fear being blown up. Neither should you. Yes, even though it just happened in France. Neither should you. I am tired of living in a country where people openly advocate leaving children to die because they are terrified that one or two out of thousands of people who desperately need our help might be bad people. Or, to be slightly more Biblical in my choice of words, people who openly advocate letting widows, and children, and orphans die horribly because of their own fear. America is truly a nation of cowards if we allow this to happen, and the loudest voices for cowardice among us are also, somehow, the loudest voices for their own toughness.

We live in a country where grown men are terrified to go to the mall without their guns.

We live in a country where people living quite literally in the middle of nowhere are afraid that a tiny militia group on the other side of the world might notice them and come to blow them up.

We live in a country where those same people are so proudly ignorant that not only are they unable to distinguish any one brown-skinned person from any other, they have the gall to be smug about it.

If we were to let some number of Syrian refugees come to live among us– for the purposes of this conversation I don’t even care about the number– we are certain to import some of them who are bad people. Some of them might even be deserving of capital letters; Bad People.

I don’t care. At all.

America has had one of what we like to call “terrorist attacks” in this country since September of 2001. So two in this century, I suppose. The Boston bombers killed three people and injured a couple hundred others. In that time we have had thousands upon thousands of our own people killed by guns wielded by our own people, and we do nothing. In fact, we insist that nothing be done. A certain segment of our population is literally ready to go to war to protect their right to own weapons that are virtually guaranteed, if they are ever used at all, to hurt one of their friends or family members and not some half-imagined “attackers.” And I note with some irritation that since Dzhokhar and Tamerlan Tsarnaev were/are white, there is an entire movement of people dedicated to proving that their attacks were either fabricated by the government or justified.

If the French attacks had happened in America, and had involved white people, an entire political party would be insisting we do nothing about it right now, and impugning the sanity and the patriotism of anyone who disagreed with them. Guns in America alone kill several multiples more people every year than terrorist attacks in Western countries have killed this century.

So forgive me if I do not find your fear convincing or important. You are so much more likely to be killed by the gun you keep in the glove box of your car than by a “terrorist” that I literally cannot take you seriously. If you live anywhere outside of the five or six largest cities in America and you genuinely fear terrorism you should seek mental help, and I say that as someone who actually sees a mental health counselor at the moment. It is not a flippant statement. It is roughly akin to fearing shark attacks while living in Nebraska. If you do live in one of those five or six cities, your risk is slightly– very, very slightly, because the total number of US cities affected by terrorism this century is currently three– elevated, but you’re still being an idiot. And you should stop.

I was made to memorize this poem, or at least the last five lines of it, in fourth grade. I typed it from memory, although I will admit double-checking to make sure I got the words right:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

This is, of course, The New Colossus, the Emma Lazarus poem that is currently mounted on a plaque inside the Statue of Liberty. It also has the advantage of rather exceptional clarity.

It is unChristian to keep these people out.

It is unAmerican to keep these people out.

It is inhuman to keep these people out.

And it is foolish in the extreme to allow fear to dictate our actions, especially– most especially– when that fear is not only rooted in our worst impulses, but is exactly what our actual enemies want us to do.

Enough.

Comments on this post are now closed. If you enjoyed reading it, you can still hit “Like” and you can still share it. Or you could buy a book, which would REALLY be awesome.

NOPE

On November 9, 2015November 9, 2015 By Luther M. SilerIn idiocy5 Comments

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I’m not writing about fucking Starbucks cups, and you can’t make me. I’m sick to fucking death of the type of evangelical Christian who thinks that they own all of November and December and that the rest of us have to behave exactly how they want or they’ll make everyone miserable. And they don’t get any more of my brain cycles. Fuck ’em all.

Anyway.

Regarding the Jayashree post from a couple of days ago: I was woken up from a sound fucking sleep last night to quickly type the name of a new story into Wunderlist, at which point I spent an hour trying not to get up and go piss and deal with some vastly annoying heartburn because the cat was in between my legs and I didn’t want to dislodge her. Both she and I lost that battle eventually, and the story’s about half written in my head right now. I’m just setting it earlier in her life to avoid having to deal with the, uh, fallout from Jayashree and the Young.

The story, by the way, is called Jayashree and the Gallows Pole. Let that one roll around in your head for a while.

I’m at my parents’ house all day today keeping an eye on my mom. Not sure if that means I’ll be around more than usual or less; I do hope to keep up with my NotNaNo word count but beyond that I’m basically just waiting for it to be tomorrow so I can play Fallout 4 23 hours a day for the rest of my life.

oh god the internet just broke me

On November 28, 2014 By Luther M. SilerIn Uncategorized5 Comments

Al Sharpton’s speech at Michael Brown’s funeral

On August 25, 2014 By Luther M. SilerIn Politics1 Comment

Inactivity alert

On April 20, 2014 By Luther M. SilerIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Going to be in Grand Rapids all day, eating tasty food and hobnobbing (yes! I am a skilled hobnobber!) with the wife’s side of the family. I may throw up a post when I get home, especially if something entertaining happens, but it may be a slow day around here.

Happy Easter, if you’re into that sort of thing.

All we wanna do is get by today, heyyyyy

On April 17, 2014 By Luther M. SilerIn Music, Teaching4 Comments

I tried to wake up optimistic today:

It didn’t work terribly well, to be honest; I spent most of my morning shower intermittently cursing like a psychotic at students who, needless to say, were not in the shower with me (left as an exercise to the reader: would it have been better if they were?) and did not walk into the building in anything remotely resembling a good mood.

I dunno. It got better. Today was a big day; one of the things that ensured that I was actually hauling my ass into work despite any number of reasons to not want to was the district walkthrough we had today; hordes of muckety-mucks from downtown that spent the morning roving around and comparing the decorations on the wall to a long, complicated checklist of things that they wanted to see. These types of walkthroughs are always about what’s on the walls, not what’s going on in between them; needless to say, my principal claims that good things were said about me and my classroom at the follow-up meeting he had to go to this afternoon. So, yeah, there’s that.

I am trying to decide if I want to go on a lengthy rant about how ridiculous it is that I have tomorrow off. Don’t get me wrong; despite Monday and today going relatively well, Tuesday and Wednesday were shitty enough to relegate the entire week to insanely shitty status, and that all by itself makes me perfectly happy to have this only be a four-day week. Plus, while both my wife (a state employee) and I have tomorrow off, day care is open. So we get a day together without the boy, which is wonderful. So I’m not complaining, except for the part where I think it’s genuinely insane that everything’s closed. I’ll grant that I’m not super in touch with Christian culture but they don’t even seem to care about Good Friday all that much and it certainly doesn’t have the nearly-secular-by-now status that, say, Christmas has. Easter does, but that’s on a Sunday. Why the hell is this a federal holiday? Today’s Holy Thursday; we don’t have that off. Is Good Friday only specialer because it’s Friday, so everybody figures what the hell? Especially when we’re going to have to be in school until June 15 or whatever because of the snow days?

Blech.

I’m still gonna enjoy sleeping in; I still haven’t really recovered from the goddamn DC trip. But I’m going to be pissy about it while I’m enjoying it.

Daily Prompt: Walking on the Moon

On February 23, 2014February 23, 2014 By Luther M. SilerIn Stories13 Comments

I may start doing these more often; forcing myself to write to a prompt every now and again seems like a good thing. Here’s today’s:

What giant step did you take where you hoped your leg wouldn’t break? Was it worth it, were you successful in walking on the moon, or did your leg break?

The summer after graduating from college, I went to Israel for a month. It was a program sponsored by the university; we were on a dig at Tel Beth Shemesh. (This was 1998, so it fascinates me that the girl next to the pile of pots on that page, the third picture down, was on my dig. That’s an old picture. I remember everybody going nuts when we found that refuse pile.)

Here’s how the dig worked: we worked five days a week, and weekends were programmed trips around the country with a tour guide. One afternoon– Tuesdays, I think?– we were on our own on the afternoons, and most of us took the time to go into Jerusalem and shop or sightsee or whatever. The problem was, by the time the digging was over and we’d had time to go home and clean up and grab some food and catch the bus, it was impossible to get to the Dome of the Rock on the Temple Mount before it closed for the day, seeing as how it’s an active religious site and not actually a 24/7 tourist site.

The thought of being able to tour the Dome of the Rock was a sizable portion of the reason I’d wanted to go on the trip in the first place. I was thousands and thousands of miles from home with no real reason to believe I’d ever be in Israel again. Missing out was not acceptable. So on the night before our last Tuesday half day, I dropped in on one of the dig directors in his office and let him know I was taking a sick day the next day. And I got up early in the morning, got on the bus, and went into Jerusalem. By myself. I was 21 and spoke no Hebrew (I could read it, which wasn’t terribly useful) and had never been overseas before. Also: 1998, so no cell phone or means to get ahold of anyone. But there was no way in hell I was leaving Israel without a tour of that building, and if that meant I had to do it by myself that was what was going to happen.

You have very likely never been to the Old City. It’s a maze. And, worse, it’s a maze that shuts down around prayer times and a few other times as well, meaning that all the shops close and you can lose your bearings very easily when all of your landmarks suddenly go away. You remembered the jewelry shop on the corner was where you turned right? Good luck when the face of the jewelry store suddenly turns into a piece of plywood. I hired a guide. Agreed on a reasonable price. He took me on a little tour, where I did my best to make sure to memorize my route because I was alone and half-convinced I was about to be robbed, and then brought me to the Temple Mount.

Where he attempted to double his price. There was shouting. He switched to Arabic. I switched to Spanish. This was clearly a performance on his part, figuring the American was going to back down quickly rather than attract the notice of the local authorities– and we were certainly starting to attract notice. I, on the other hand, was firmly in “getting arrested on the Temple Mount makes the story better” mode, and wasn’t about to back down to the dude, figuring that the blue passport around my neck and my connection to Hebrew University through the dig was going to sort everything out sooner or later. (Yay, privilege!) He backed down and left. And I took my shoes off, got in line and got my tour of one of the most beautiful, spiritual places on the planet. I met my friends a couple of hours later without any real incident, managing to get to the spot where we’d agreed to join up without getting lost or anything else stupid happening.

Secondary funny Israel story: On the first trip into Jerusalem, we went to the Holy Sepulchre. The history of the Sepulchre is fascinating and well worth a read if you’re unfamiliar with it, but suffice it to say that there’s a shrine in there that is believed to be the actual location of Jesus’ tomb. You have to crawl, or at least squat, to get in there:

This is, in case it’s not clear, a really small room, with space for no more than a few people, and those shoved tightly together. And that little entryway is several feet long, so it’s possible to stand up too early as you’re walking in. And hit your head. On a stone arch.

If you do that, shouting “OW! JESUS!” at the top of your lungs is frowned upon.

(It wasn’t me. Thank God. But I was right behind her and oh lord keeping a straight face in a situation like that is incredibly difficult. Also, I can safely report that it is in fact impossible to literally die of embarrassment or Betsy surely would have done so on the spot.)

Under the jump, other answers to this prompt:

Continue reading “Daily Prompt: Walking on the Moon” →