This is What I Mean

You all know that I've got more than a few disagreements with Donald Trump. I really need to stop commenting on political things, because, while it's fun, I don't really care. My personality is super rational, which makes me a pretty poor match for electoral anything, where rationality is the least of anyone's concern. I like following elections and government the same way I like following basketball or the Tour de France - it's entertainment. I don't think any of this is nearly as important as the participants do and certainly much less than the people I tend to piss off or excite with whatever back room comments I might make.

I've also probably got to stop because I really do believe theologically that participation by Christians in the business of elections and governing is harmful and counter-productive. I don't mind commenting and such, but I suspect I may be encouraging the very engagement I hope to discourage and for that, I apologize.

I believe the Church is called to represent an alternative politic. I really do. We're not called to influence anything or anyone, least of all nations and governments, but to live out the calling to which we've committed our lives in a way that might present people a more attractive means of living together. Yes, there's influence inherent in that ideal, I suppose, but influence is not a motivating factor. That's when we get into trouble (as just about any person less than excited about Christianity will tell you) - we're at our worst when we're trying to tell people what to do.

Don't get me wrong, I think making theological counter arguments to the theology of power and fear inherent in any national government is vitally important. I don't think we should keep our heads in the sand - but me putting forth my critiques of the policies and decisions of people in government probably isn't helping that cause. I respect Brian Zahnd greatly as a pastoral example of prophetic witness. He's got his own opinions about what government should do, policy-wise, and those occasionally sneak out, but for the most part he simply proclaims the gospel, the Christ-like way of living in the world, and points out the ways in which statements or decisions made by elected leaders contradict those things.

You may call it a fine line, but I see it, and far too often cross over. I let my love of logic and reason hold the same place in my heart as my love of God and the Church and the purposes to which we've been called.

I've been critical of some of the decisions Trump's made and I think a lot of the policies being pushed are short-sighted and outrageously ill-conceived. I'd like to think I'd've been similarly critical of Clinton, had she been elected, it just would likely have been on very different issues. This is the type of discussion that's probably best left to in-person debate or, at least, less public venues (don't worry, I somehow consider this blog to be 'less public' for some entirely illogical and irrational reason).

At the same time, my biggest issue with Donald Trump, from the moment his campaign became serious, was his lack of concern for morality. I don't call the man immoral, but amoral - he doesn't seem to understand right and wrong as concepts. Trump tends to base those judgement either on later outcomes or on the feedback he gets from the people around him. Because of this, he doesn't seem to be the kind of person who thinks twice about hurting people if it serves an agenda.

I'm particularly troubled by the illustrative tweets he sent out in response to the London terror attacks in recent days. While I could see many of our recent Presidents saying things like this in private, to friends or co-workers; I can't imagine a scenario in which even Richard Nixon (our resident modern Presidential boogeyman) would think it proper to make such comments in a public forum - not that might be politically incorrect (which they are), but because they're not sensitive to the events of the day, nor are they particularly representative of the nation a President purports to lead.

Do you notice we are not having a gun debate right now? That's because they used knives and a truck!

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) June 4, 2017

Here Trump decides to interject a divisive US issue into a comment on terrorism in the UK - which has largely settled for themselves how they feel about guns. It's unfeeling and callous and completely tone deaf, not only to substance, but perception. Worse: the fact that this tweet still exists. It wasn't deleted after the fact, showing a real misunderstanding of both people and the world.

It's this inability to apologize, to admit fallibility - even for a typo - that makes Trump so impossible to support, not as a politician, but as a person of any influence at all. I get that he's a human being and a beloved child of God - I don't wish ill will towards him or his family - but I do believe he's dangerous, not just because his actions violate just about every value I hold true in the world, but because they violate generally held societal beliefs - I do still think a majority of people in the country he purports to lead embrace compassion and kindness - and also the good of the country.

I believe George W Bush made some of the most horrendous political decisions of my lifetime. I think, outside his massively important, flourishing program to fight AIDS in Africa, there's nothing of value he provided, policy-wise, to the US in eight years. I'd argue he's genuinely among the three worst Presidents we've ever had. I wrote in John McCain in 2000 AND 2004. Still, I believe he was and is a kind person who understood the weight of his responsibility in profound ways. He's the one President in the last 60 years or so who I couldn't imagine even thinking the things Trump says in these tweets (c'mon, you don't think the Obama snark doesn't rear its ugly head in private?). In other words, I don't have any moral qualms with the man, just the decisions he made.

The same isn't true for Trump. To me, this isn't about politics or policies - it's about decency and responsibility. The President just isn't supposed to use the part of his office that speaks for the country to advance personal or political agendas. Media outlets make a lot of money using manipulative reporting tactics to push political buttons, but we expect more from a President - shoot, I expect more from a human being.

At least 7 dead and 48 wounded in terror attack and Mayor of London says there is "no reason to be alarmed!"

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) June 4, 2017

This is either an ill-informed regurgitation of some conservative media talking point or a genuinely nefarious means of undermining a religion. Even I hope Trump was just ignorant of the actual text of the muslim mayor of London's statement and not that he was trying to smear a foreign leader the day after a terrorist attack to score political points. I can give the benefit of the doubt here - even if that benefit still makes him look terrible.

For reference:

My message to Londoners and visitors to our great city is to be calm and vigilant today. You will see an increased police presence today, including armed officers and uniformed officers. There is no reason to be alarmed by this. We are the safest global city in the world. You saw last night as a consequence of our planning, our preparation, the rehearsals that take place, the swift response from the emergency services tackling the terrorists and also helping the injured.  --Sadiq Kahn

He wasn't saying people shouldn't be alarmed by a terrorist attack, but that they shouldn't be alarmed by the increased police presence following an attack. That our President waded into this with anything other than compassion illustrates how unfit he is for the position. This, more than any alleged Russian collusion, failure to divest from his businesses, even downright unwillingness to put effort into educating himself on the issues with which he deals, is reason to be rid of him. Everything else is a choice he made; this is a reflection of who he is.

I believe all people can change, but I'm not sure it makes sense to let an amoral, irresponsible person with no stated aim towards self-improvement, try to do so in a position of power.

When I say he's not fit to serve - despite whatever disagreement I might have with him on policies or decisions - this is really what I mean. To me, it's far more important than any of the other stuff - and so I'll try to adjust my words to reflect as much. Let's all pray Donald Trump does too.

Never Forget... What?

I apologize if this feels trite or inappropriate; I hope it won't. But when I see the "nEver Forget" hashtag or bumper stickers it always strikes me as odd. I get uncomfortable and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the ambiguity - what will we forget? No one, certainly, who was old enough to remember the events of September 11, 2001 will ever forget them. It's the Pearl Harbor or JFK Assassination of our generation, perhaps even more vividly, since we watched the whole thing live and in color.

I was a junior at Eastern Nazarene College, sleeping late since one of the privileges of being a junior is not having to get up early for class. I had the largest TV on the floor (and was the RA), so I was awoken to a knock on the door and guys piling into the room saying something about a plane hitting the World Trade Center. The way they talked about it, I pictured a little two-seater prop thing and some hopeless, undertrained hobby pilot. We turned the TV on pretty much right when the second plane hit - the guys kept saying, "this must be a replay," but I saw smoke coming from the other tower. Over the next few minutes I just remember silence. I'm sure everything was loud and humming, but it was utterly surreal.

I'm never going to forget that.

I'm not going to forget the kids camped out in the student center lounge, watching coverage practically 24/7 for months, as daytime news covered nothing else. The country was consumed with this event and, in many ways, it still is.

I wonder, when they say, "Never Forget," if they mean teaching the next generation what happened and the lessons learned - because the next generation can never know and thus will be almost certain to forget. Besides that, I'm not sure what lessons we've actually learned or whether they're worth passing on. We've responded to violence largely with violence and helped make the world a more dangerous place than it way. We've polarized the nation and the world and we operate far more often on fear than we ever did before.

Those aren't things I want to remember.

Of course, there are also the victims. People who lost lives doing unimaginably heroic things. People who lost lives making impossible, unimaginable choices about which way to die. People who never had a chance to think. The families of those people, some of whom never even had the smallest bit of remains to mourn and bury. We certainly don't want to forget those people.


One the morning of September 11th this year, ESPN released a documentary short called, "First Pitch." It's twenty minutes or so about President George Bush throwing out the first pitch of Game 3 of the 2001 World Series. I wept. I wept through the whole thing. I didn't expect to get so choked up, but the footage of first responders and scenes of NY and around the country shortly after the attacks brought back a flood of memories - those same emotions none of us could ever forget.

I think part of my emotions were also from that World Series - it was really the last moment I gained any pure joy from baseball. I've written before about my childhood love of the game and my evolving understanding of sports, but this was slightly different. On top of 2001 being among the most exciting and greatest World Series of all time, it came on the heels of the life changing 9/11 attacks. The President throwing out that first pitch in NY (and throwing a strike) imbued it with a little more meaning. Even more so, the narrative was impressive: the storied New York Yankees (my childhood team) working to extend an impressive dynasty against a relatively new team from Arizona comprised of a lot of veteran players who'd never won before. It went all the way to the end of Game 7. My team lost, yet I found myself profoundly happy with the outcome - those guys deserved what they got. They earned it.

There was some measure of cosmic satisfaction in the outcome. Even if it wasn't my team, it was a great story. Prior to that moment I thought I liked baseball because my team was the best. I realized I liked it because it represented something bigger - that cosmic satisfaction is, in some sense, a realization of perfection. When the narrative works out just like it's supposed to, there's something really, deeply satisfying. These days I'd call it a connection to the divine - an inner drive in all of us to see the world as it was meant to be, as it will be one day. In those moments of deep satisfaction, when things just work out the way they're "supposed to," we're catching a glimpse of heaven.

I realized at the end of that 2001 World Series that I didn't need baseball to do that for me. I still enjoy sports for that reason - it's one of the purest ways to find some sense of rightness in the world - but it's also got to be looked at with a cynical eye these days. The reality of steroids hit home right about the same time and baseball has never been the same for me.

I realized, though, fourteen years hence, watching that documentary, I didn't need baseball to carry me through. The emotions that came flooding back, the reality of what happened September 11th, 2001, the reality of living here then was something different, bigger. It was the start of a journey towards recognizing that cosmic satisfaction in things larger and more important than sports. Prior to that time, whether due to upbringing or immaturity, I never expected things to get better. I'd been taught the world was hopelessly lost and doomed - hope was for another time and place.


Since then, I've developed a much fuller understanding of hope, destiny, and humanity. I've discovered a profound hope for this world and the people in it - that those glimpses of heaven don't need to be representative in sports, but can really take place in the world around us. When you see the video of the search teams, combing the wreckage for friends who were not coming back, the hearts and homes opened, the careers dropped at a moment's notice to help others - that's hope for this world; it's the sort of "perfection" I'd always wanted to find in baseball. And it was, is, real in the world around me.

It wasn't ever real in baseball. The beauty and hope came from my love and devotion to the game. Those two months, September and October of 2001, even though I didn't realize it at the time, were the start of a journey that's lead to finding real purpose, real hope in life. The same love and devotion I spent my childhood giving to a game can be and is directed towards hurting people everyday. The human capacity for evil is immense, but the human capacity of love and grace is even bigger - thank God.

As I look back of September 11th, as the day rolls around each year with remembrances and celebrations that don't always sit well with me, I don't have to look back and think of war and violence, I don't need to remember terrorism and the foreign policy mistakes that have been made in its name. I can think of the genuine love that permeated a nation* if only for a short while - it's a love worth never forgetting.





*I don't want to minimize the tragic backlash against muslims and sikhs (who wear turbans and apparently looked like muslims to some ignorant, hateful people) - but at the same time I remember being shocked with how quickly communities turned out to repair broken windows and guard shops and mosques from further damage - things that I doubt would've happened with the same fervor before 9/11, things I can't imagine happening even now.