The Magnificat

The Magnificat by Mary the Revolutionary,

"My soul magnifies the Lord,

And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.

For He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant;

For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed.

For He who is mighty has done great things for me,

And holy is His name.

And His mercy is on those who fear Him

From generation to generation.

He has shown strength with His arm;

He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.

He has put down the might from their thrones,

And exalted the lowly.

He has filled the hungry with good things,

And the rich he has sent away empty.

He has helped His servant Israel,

In remembrance of His mercy,

As He spoke to our fathers,

To Abraham to his seed forever."

Luke 1:46-55 (emphasis added)

Eloquent and frightening words from a unwed, pregnant teen/ rural peasant.  Governments have removed the magnificant from state-sponsored Christianity.  When reading it honestly, I must confess I resist it.  Merry Christmas from the mother of Jesus.

God Only Knows Where We'd Be Without Soldiers and Jesus

It has been years since my radio dial has spent much time honed into a country music station, but when I am back home with my dad spending a Saturday morning on the ranch, I usually catch a few of the time-tested favorites, from Alan Jackson to Merle Haggard.  Now and again a new song or two will echo through the speakers of an F-350, and thus I have been introduced to Taylor Swift and Lady Antebellum.  On my last trip home, one lyric in particular caught my ear - "God only knows where we'd be without soldiers and Jesus."

James Otto, described as a country music Southern soul man in the mold of Conway Twitty and Ronnie Milsaps, tugs at Americana's heart strings and patriotism with a ballad describing a grandfather's sacrifice in war and likening it to that of Christ.  The song appears on his 2010 release Shake What God Gave Ya'. Apparently Mr. Otto is working double time on incorporating the Godhead into his music.  The theme of "Soldiers and Jesus" is standard in the modern pop-country industry, which works to echo the sentiments of conservative, rural, working class Americans.  Patriotic ballads resonate well with country music fans.  You may remember Toby Keith's thoughtful "Angry American" ("We'll put a boot in your ass, it's the American way.") that debuted shortly after 9/11.  Military allusions are particularly sentimental.  The South is a lush harvesting ground for the US military, and many are veterans or family members thereof.  With numerous friends and classmates having served in the armed forces, I understand the ties one can feel to music linking US military operations with religion.

Yet I must question the simple assumption lying at the root of Mr. Otto's song: that Jesus and US soldiers are on the same team.  A quick review of the gospels fails to often unite soldiers with Jesus, save for that matter of the crucifixion.  But there are notable similarities between the military-government complex of the US military and with that of the Roman Empire.  Both spread across the known world, fighting in conflicts on foreign soil to protect the interests of the state.  I fear that if a middle-eastern man were to lead a raucous mob into a holy city being protected or defended by either military during a holy festival, and that mob were to proclaim his reign as king, either force would take note.  And while crucifixions have never been en vogue for the US military, I do not suppose such a man would be looked upon with trust.  Now suppose that such a man were to reject offers to work with local leaders or the occupying force.  Suppose he proclaimed the coming of a new kingdom - offering hope and inciting unrest.  Do you think that such a man might not find himself the target of a smart bomb or an assassination?

Unfortunately, despite our best intentions to marry patriotism and religion, the two are not entirely compatible.  While our military does sacrifice to provide security and safety to Americans and to defend our interests and values, the Christian Church cannot embrace our government as a friend.  We certainly cannot advocate for more overlap between the two.  In a debate for the 2008 Republican presidential nomination, Ron Paul quipped that if fascism were ever to descend on the US, it would arrive carrying a cross and draped in an American flag.  "Soldiers and Jesus" promotes exactly that kind of Christianity, one that unfortunately disregards the very Christ that called us to love our enemies and turn the other cheek - the Jesus that was crucified by soldiers.

Liberation

Liberation Theology.  God favors the oppressed.  The tenet is sound, but scary as hell itself.  For I, white, middle class, American, educated, am not oppressed.  I am not a widow.  I am not an orphan.  I am not an alien. 

The phrase has entered into conversation twice this week.  My conservative, evangelical background shys from anything not mentioned by Augustine or Spurgeon or C. S. Lewis.   In such a moment I rejoice in friends who believe in a God big enough to save heretics.  Some seminaries teach students to start using that word early.  Even hinting threats to the establishment must be dismissed by a powerful label, conjuring up images of the Inquisition or gnostic witchcraft.  Thankfully, ours is a God who fears not the questioning of His character; He is not afraid of heresy.  We are welcome to wonder, even at the cost of doctrinal soundness.  Props to Steve Brown for freeing me to become heretical in my pursuit of God.

In Liberation Theology, we find a discomforting challenge to institutional Christianity.  The established church quivers, be it in the halls of the Vatican or protestant seminary.  But a thorough reading of scripture cautions against siding with almost anything resembling an institution.

Thus I will question.

Given my aforementioned status of being decidedly unoppressed, I meet Liberation Theology with reluctance.  What does such a doctrine imply about my standing with God?  In the Psalter, we meet the God of the brokenhearted, the lonely, the sinner.  In Jesus we find a man who persistently rejects the systematic theology of learned men to touch lepers and women.  James cautions our proclivity to honor the honorable.  These simple truths have been components of my faith for as long as I remember.  But what if these components are, in fact, the center?

So who is oppressed?  Walking the streets of Southside, I see black people, homeless people, gay people and disabled people.  Each of these, according to the social structure of modern day Birmingham, have found some sort of oppression given the mentioned characteristics.

In class this week, the issue of race arose.  Despite the civil rights movement and the 2008 election, I firmly agree with Derrick Bell that racism is a permanent and integral part of American culture.  We are inherently racist, a fate sealed by a myriad of intractable factors, both biological and environmental.  What's more, our generation's politically correct denial of the presence of intrinsic racism is a fertile medium for the perpetuation of implicit, unspoken racism.  What can be done?

Where is the Church?