Envy, Rivalry, Anger, and Scapegoating

This morning’s reading from the book of Genesis is a story of envy, rivalry, and anger, all of which culminate in violence. We are told that Joseph is the favorite son of his father, Jacob, which causes his eleven brothers to resent him. To symbolize his place of privilege in Jacob’s heart and family, Jacob makes Joseph a colorful coat with sleeves. One would think that Jacob would have learned the dangers of favoritism after the debacle with his own father Isaac and his estranged older brother Esau, but alas, problems like these are often handed down from generation to generation.

Not only is Joseph loved by his father more than all of his brothers, he is gifted with dreams that seem to indicate that he will be elevated to a position of authority over his brothers, although they are almost all older than he. And he is not shy about sharing these dreams with his brothers. And so for years his brothers envy him as their rival for their father’s affection and for influence in the family. And they burn with anger towards him. Until finally they resort to violence. They seize upon a moment, assault Joseph, kidnap him, and sell him into slavery. Rivalry. Envy. Anger. Violence.

These themes are familiar to us today, and according to philosopher, historian, literary critic, and theologian Rene Girard, they are rooted in the phenomenon of imitation. So much of human behavior is a matter of us imitating other people, from how we fix our hair, to the style of the clothes we wear, to the music we listen to, to what we value and give our ultimate allegiance to. We learn what to desire from others. We’re not born wanting a fancy car or knowing that we like Mexican food. We take our cues from each other from a very early age, and it continues into adulthood. I once saw an advertisement in a jewelry story window of Eli Manning, the NFL quarterback, wearing a jacket and tie, with special attention given to his watch. The advertisement was for a certain brand of watch. Why would I care what watch Eli Manning wears, particularly when it has nothing to do with his playing football? I care because he is more wealthy than I, more successful, more athletic, and more admired. And perhaps if I bought that watch, I would be a little more like him. This is how our advertising-saturated culture would condition us to think – that we should imitate people that we deem cool or successful or beautiful.

Consider how imitation plays out in the world of real estate. Certain areas of town can quickly go from undesirable and inexpensive to highly desirable and very expensive largely based on our perception of the people who are living and moving there. If I believe that cool, successful people are moving into an area, I may imitate them by trying to move there myself. And I may be willing to pay considerably more to be in an area I perceive to be teeming with hip people, much like I might be willing to pay more for a watch that is endorsed by an NFL player. And we know that when more and more people start imitating each other, all trying to move into the same hip neighborhood, prices go up. The neighborhood becomes even more exclusive and desirable. Now we’re talking about rivalry. Two people imitating one another who desire the same thing. Like the sons of Jacob. Rivalry is the shadow of imitation. Rivalry divides people, pits them against each other. Rivalry results in an us-them dichotomy, winners and losers. Rivalry foments anger. And as the wise Jedi Master Yoda taught us, anger leads to the dark side. Rivalry and anger can lead a person to drive a car into a crowd of protesters. They can cause us to act violently against each other, as Joseph’s brothers did to him.

Joseph’s brothers did not dare blame their father, the patriarch, the authority, for his unfair favoritism and giving Joseph special privileges. They locate the blame on Joseph. Joseph becomes the scapegoat. And like any scapegoat, Joseph is subjected to violent exclusion from the community in order to restore harmony.

We are well-acquainted with the issues of envy, rivalry, anger, and even violence and scapegoating because our socio-political climate is dominated by them. Could it be more clear that we are a divided people, separated by political ideology, race, sexual orientation, religion, socio-economic status, gender, and nationality? We are scrambling in competition with each other for power, money, influence, and resources. Political candidates and parties rival each other for votes and offices. Religious groups contend against each other for orthodoxy and congregants. And as we saw in the example of Jacob’s sons, when rivalry exists on even a small scale, when there is envy and anger at play, someone must take the blame. A scapegoat will emerge who will serve as a target.

Some of our politicians and even some of our religious leaders would have us believe that Muslims are the problem. We should blame Islam. And people respond by bombing the Dar Al-Farooq Islamic Center in Minneapolis less than two weeks ago, much like the 16th Street Baptist Church was bombed in 1963, when white people who were afraid that their economic and political power and influence were diminishing made African-Americans into their scapegoat. Or we are told that illegal immigrants are the problem. Blame them. Let them serve as the scapegoat. Keep them out. To hell with the profound, aspirational testament to hospitality that is inscribed on the Statue of Liberty. I saw recently people at a rally in Iowa of all places chanting “Build That Wall!” As if a wall on the U.S. border with Mexico could have any positive impact for the people of Iowa. Do you know where Iowa is? But rivalry and anger and scapegoating are not based on good sense, any more than buying a watch modeled by a football player makes sense. The people at that rally are imitating what they have heard from their favorite political candidates and media pundits. They have been told where to put the blame, they have been given a scapegoat. Their anger and frustration are now directed at people perceived to be below them, such as immigrants, not at the people in positions of authority like Jacob.

Which is not to say that we should scapegoat the people who do the scapegoating. After all, Trump didn’t start the fire, and neither did Obama or Bush or Clinton. But the tendency so often is to target the people on the margins, the people who are most vulnerable, the minorities, people who are already despised.

I teach in prisons from time to time in a college program where inmates are earning credit toward Associate’s and Bachelor’s degrees. And occasionally there have been articles in local newspapers about the program, about the way people are being given a second chance, about the positive effect education has in rehabilitation, in helping people not re-offend, get better jobs, etc. And every time one of these articles comes out, there are always negative comments. People say things like, “Nobody ever offered me a free college education.” “Why do these dirtbags get something for nothing?” “They don’t deserve it.” “Let ‘em rot.” “Wish I had known that all I needed to do was kill or rape somebody to go to college for free.” Envy. Rivalry. Anger. Blame. Scapegoating.

It’s like a violent flood. Waves are threatening all around us. The leaders of this country and North Korea are engaged in a foolish and dangerous rivalry of words with real lives at stake. Neo-Klansmen giving Nazi salutes have been emboldened to light torches and march as they haven't in a generation. And we've even seen these Anti-Christ spirits of white supremacy and imperial militarism infiltrate the Lord's Church. We look around at the divisions and the racism and the xenophobia and the misogyny and the homophobia and the bullying, and it feels like love of neighbor itself, not just Charloteesville, Virginia, is under siege. The waters are rising all around us and, like Peter in our gospel reading, we’re sinking like a stone beneath these waves of fear and anger and ugliness. And if we're honest, we must admit that we feel rivalry and anger rising in our own hearts, along with the desire to affix blame on a scapegoat. We feel the weight of it in our owl soul. Maybe we’re tempted to slap a label on the people who we think have caused this mess and dismiss them from further care or concern or consideration or compassion, forgetting that they too are bearers of the divine image. Like Joseph’s brothers did to him. “The dreamer” they called him as they conspired to do him harm.

My friend David Dark puts it like this: “When I label people, I no longer have to deal with them thoughtfully. I no longer have to feel overwhelmed by their complexity, the lives they live, the dreams they have. I know exactly where they are inside—or forever outside—my field of care, because they’ve been taken care of. The mystery of their existence has been solved and filed away before I’ve had a chance to be moved by them or even begun to catch a glimpse of who they might be. They’ve been neutralized. There’s hardly any action quite so undemanding, so utterly unimaginative, as the affixing of a label. It’s the costliest of mental shortcuts.”

But then, like Peter, we are confronted by the person of Jesus, who was not swept away by the torrent of rivalry and blame. Because he identified with the scapegoats, the poor, the outcast, the vulnerable, the excluded, the ones who were blamed, he was able to transcend these all-too-human tendencies. He loved the scapegoated ones without judgment. He ate with them. But he also ate with the religious leaders who played the scapegoating game. He also loved the rich young ruler who thought he had it all together.

Jesus rescues us from the waters of rivalry, envy, anger, and scapegoating by identifying with, standing in solidarity with the scapegoated ones, to the point of becoming the scapegoat for the religious and political leaders of his time. Suffering the violence of the cross, Jesus put an end to the scapegoat mechanism once and for all. And he invites us to join him.

Franciscan priest Richard Rohr writes, “If we are not marginalized [think scapegoated] ourselves in some way, we normally need to associate with some marginalized group to have an enlightened Gospel perspective and to be converted to compassion.” This is the invitation – to transcend envy, rivalry, anger and blame by being one with people who are being scapegoated. And like receding floodwaters, these harmful, dehumanizing tendencies will pose less and less of a threat to our hearts. Like Peter we are saved. In the words of the great Henri Nouwen, “In a world so torn apart by rivalry, anger, and hatred, we have the privileged vocation to be living signs of a love that can bridge all divisions and heal all wounds.”

On the Arming of "Serious" Christians

In response to latest mass shooting in Oregon on October 1, 2015, which left nine more innocent people dead, Tennessee Lieutenant Governor Ron Ramsey weighed in by encouraging Christians to take up arms: "I would encourage my fellow Christians who are serious about their faith to think about getting a handgun carry permit . . . Our enemies are armed. We must do likewise." Ramsey noted that the targets of these mass shootings are "Christians and defenders of the West;" hence the call to arms for followers of Jesus.

Ramsey's counsel harmonizes well with what passes for conventional wisdom regarding violence, self-defense, and self-preservation, on both the personal and global levels. We have stand-your-ground laws in our local communities, and the U.S. seems to be perpetually at war with enemies that we perceive to be threats to freedom and democracy. Thus, there is clear precedent for Ramsey's advice to resort to violence when we feel threatened and afraid. The problem is that he issued this call directly to "Christians who are serious about their faith," yet his suggested course of action does not conform to the teachings of Christ himself.

Jesus gave some commands to his would-be followers that seem to contradict conventional wisdom regarding self-defense and responding to enemies. "But I say to you, do not resist an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also." (Matt. 5:39). He continues, "You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven." (Matt. 5:43-45). On the night he was handed over to suffering and death, Jesus admonished his disciple Peter against using his sword in self-defense. "Put your sword back in its place," Jesus said to him, "for all who draw the sword will die by the sword." (Matt. 26:52).

We can all acknowledge that these are difficult and demanding teachings. After all, when one does not resist an evil person, but instead turns the other cheek, it is possible that he will receive a second slap. And when a person loves her enemy, there is no guarantee that the enemy will return the good will. Jesus refused to defend himself or allow others to defend him with force, and we all know how that ended. The teachings may be even more challenging when we have become accustomed to keeping weapons for purposes of self-defense. We tend to put our trust in weapons and violence and derive from them a sense of safety and protection. Isn't this, after all, the gist of Ramsey's advice? Get a gun so that you are better able to protect yourself? Jesus' last point about people who use weapons being killed by weapons seems to expose the falseness of the sense of security we draw from an ability to do violence.

Nevertheless, it can be difficult to let go of even a false sense of security. It is tempting to quickly dismiss Jesus' teachings as spiritual rather than physical, to claim he was using hyperbole, or to insist that he did not really mean what he said about not resisting an evil person. We could disregard the teachings unrealistic, ineffective, irresponsible, or even naive, and have no further consideration for them. Moreover, it's not hard to find other scriptures that support the use of violence in self-defense, so we could cling to those as we interpret Jesus' words as essentially irrelevant to how the world really works.

The early church, however, at least for the first 300 years or so, seemed to agree that Jesus meant what he said and that violence was prohibited for his followers. Lactantius of Bithynia wrote, "Thus it will be neither lawful for a just man to engage in warfare, since his warfare is justice itself, nor to accuse any one of a capital charge, because it makes no difference whether you put a man to death by word, or rather by the sword, since it is the act of putting to death itself which is prohibited. Therefore, with regard to this precept of God, there ought to be no exception at all; but that it is always unlawful to put to death a man, whom God willed to be a sacred animal." Tertullian wrote, "But how will a Christian war, nay, how will he serve even in peace without a sword, which the Lord has taken away? For albeit soldiers had come unto John, and had received the formula of their rule; albeit, likewise, a centurion had believed, still the Lord afterward, in disarming Peter, unbelted every soldier." At the very least, church history, stained as it is by the blood of countless saints who chose faithfulness to these difficult teachings over protecting and preserving their own lives, compels us not to quickly assume that Jesus did not mean exactly what he said.

A literal application of Jesus' teachings about violence is enough to make anyone uneasy, particularly when we are confronted by a new mass shooting every few days or weeks. It seems clear enough that Ramsey's remarks were prompted by fear. We see another shooting on the news and think, "What if that happened to me? How can I protect myself and my family?" At this point, however, other teachings of Jesus become less enigmatic and more comforting as we refuse to resist evil on its own terms. "Do not fear those who kill the body but are unable to kill the soul . . . Are not two sparrows sold for a cent? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows." (Matt. 10:28-30). Do not be afraid, Jesus says over and over again in all four gospels. Do not abandon the teachings out of fear. "For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." (Matt. 16:25; Mark 8:35; Luke 9:24). That is, even if our lives are taken from us, Jesus promises that the loss in but an illusion. Is this not what we proclaim every time we eat the bread and drink the cup? Incidentally, Jesus ties this teaching about not acting to save our own lives to faithfully following Jesus to the cross. (Matt. 16:24). It is easy enough for modern American Christians to spiritualize such teachings, forgetting the many Christians who have willingly suffered and died, many on crosses of their own, for their discipleship to Jesus. Self-preservation, it seems, is not a Christian virtue. Faithfulness is.

In calling Christians to take up arms, Ramsey has failed to reckon with some of Jesus' most challenging instructions, commands that strike at the very heart of the gospel. He is encouraging Christians to place their trust in the wrong thing. I am reminded here of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who, when threatened with death, refused to submit to fear, instead placing their trust in God to deliver them. They acknowledged, however, that God might not deliver them, that He might allow them to suffer and be killed at the hands of wicked men. Even then Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refused to allow their actions to be dictated by fear of death. Faithfulness to God was their guiding principle. It should be the same for Christians today. Contrary to the advice of Lt. Gov. Ramsey, Christians have no need of handgun carry permits. They have already died to themselves, and their lives are hidden with Christ in God. Whom shall they fear?

The Confederate Flag and Me

I have lived my entire 38 years in the South. My Dad's family is from Bell Buckle, Tennessee, and my Mom's family hails from Pulaski, where the Ku Klux Klan was founded. I remember well going to visit my great grandmothers on their farms out in the sticks. I learned early in my life that my roots are in the country, and that I should be proud of my heritage. Later I learned that one of my ancestors was a colonel in the Confederate Army. My family remembered him as someone who bravely fought for his home, his family, and his way of life. This was how I first understood the Civil War: the agrarian way of life was being threatened, the national economy had betrayed the South, and the Southern states determined to secede to preserve their heritage. This is not to say that I did not learn about slavery. I knew that slavery was integral to the Southern agrarian economy. I knew that slavery was awful and wrong. But I did not view the Civil War as being primarily about the subjugation of African-Americans. Certainly I did not believe that my ancestor, Colonel Wheeler, had fought for the Confederacy because he was a racist. He fought for his home.

My first memory of the Confederate flag was seeing it painted on the roof of the General Lee in The Dukes of Hazzard. From the time I was four until I was about seven, I did not use car doors; I climbed through the window like Bo and Luke Duke. As a little boy, I did not identify the Confederate flag with racism and hatred. Instead, it symbolized pride in being from the South and the country. Bo and Luke Duke were folks like my family. They prayed before meals, they helped people when they could, and they celebrated their heritage by painting the Confederate flag on their 1969 Dodge Charger.

One of my favorite boyhood bands was Alabama, and they also made frequent use of the Confederate flag. The album covers for "My Home's in Alabama," "Feels So Right," "Mountain Music," and "Roll On" all featured the Confederate flag. Their music celebrated Southern culture, with songs like "Mountain Music," "Tennessee River," "Dixieland Delight," "Song of the South," and "High Cotton." Again, none of the songs or album covers made me think that the band was racist. Their music was about having pride in a country way of life marked by faith, simplicity, hard work, and family. By the time I was a teenager, I had discovered Lynyrd Skynyrd and other bands who used the Confederate Flag as a symbol of Southern culture and a non-conformist spirit. I still did not attach racist sentiments to it, though I knew it had been used that way by some groups that I felt had disrespectfully hijacked and abused it.

In high school, I had a t-shirt (I think I bought it in Gatlinburg, no huge surprise) with a Confederate flag on the back. It read, "It's a Southern Thang. Y'all Wouldn't Understand." I don't know what that meant, but I thought it was cool. In college, I had a Confederate flag hanging in my dorm room. I thought that was cool too. Not only did it identify me with the likes of Lynyrd Skynyrd and the Duke boys, it conveyed that I was something of a rebel, which I very much wanted to be. For reasons I'm still struggling to understand, I did not want to go with the flow. I wanted to buck the system, be different, not fall in line. The Confederate flag symbolized that for me. I still did not view it as a racist symbol.

Twenty years ago, when I was a freshman in college, I went with two other guys and got a tattoo on my right shoulder. Featured in the tattoo are the letters C.S.A., standing for Confederate States of America.

Hopefully, I have changed a lot since I got that tattoo, as has my opinion of the Confederacy and its flag. Hopefully I am not as ignorant and insensitive as I once was regarding issues of race and history. I have come to see that the Confederate flag is a symbol of racism and hatred. White people cannot divorce the Confederate flag from the terrible history of racism, violence, dehumanization, rape, oppression, and murder that characterized the South around the time of the Civil War. The Confederate flag is not something to feel pride in. It's a disgrace to be ashamed of. It symbolizes everything that is wrong with Southern culture, and to celebrate the Confederate flag is to perpetuate that awful culture.

To continue display the Confederate flag, personally or on the state level, is to keep re-injuring a "gaping racial wound that will not heal - yet we pretend doesn't exist," in the words of Jon Stewart. It invites white supremacy and the kind of terrible racial violence that occurred in Charleston on Wednesday. We need to put the flag away for the dehumanizing awfulness that it symbolizes, and we need to work to transform the racist culture that habitually devalues and destroys black lives.

Ezekiel 34

Then the word of the Lord came to me saying, “Son of man, prophesy against the shepherds of Israel. Prophesy and say to those shepherds, ‘Thus says the Lord God, “Woe, shepherds of Israel who have been feeding themselves! Should not the shepherds feed the flock? You eat the fat and clothe yourselves with the wool, you slaughter the fat sheep without feeding the flock. Those who are sickly you have not strengthened, the diseased you have not healed, the broken you have not bound up, the scattered you have not brought back, nor have you sought for the lost; but with force and with severity you have dominated them. They were scattered for lack of a shepherd, and they became food for every beast of the field and were scattered. My flock wandered through all the mountains and on every high hill; My flock was scattered over all the surface of the earth, and there was no one to search or seek for them.”’”

Therefore, you shepherds, hear the word of the Lord: “As I live,” declares the Lord God, “surely because My flock has become a prey, My flock has even become food for all the beasts of the field for lack of a shepherd, and My shepherds did not search for My flock, but rather the shepherds fed themselves and did not feed My flock; therefore, you shepherds, hear the word of the Lord: ‘Thus says the Lord God, “Behold, I am against the shepherds, and I will demand My sheep from them and make them cease from feeding sheep. So the shepherds will not feed themselves anymore, but I will deliver My flock from their mouth, so that they will not be food for them.”’”

For thus says the Lord God, “Behold, I Myself will search for My sheep and seek them out. As a shepherd cares for his herd in the day when he is among his scattered sheep, so I will care for My sheep and will deliver them from all the places to which they were scattered on a cloudy and gloomy day. I will bring them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries and bring them to their own land; and I will feed them on the mountains of Israel, by the streams, and in all the inhabited places of the land. I will feed them in a good pasture, and their grazing ground will be on the mountain heights of Israel. There they will lie down on good grazing ground and feed in rich pasture on the mountains of Israel. I will feed My flock and I will lead them to rest,” declares the Lord God. “I will seek the lost, bring back the scattered, bind up the broken and strengthen the sick; but the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them with judgment.

“As for you, My flock, thus says the Lord God, ‘Behold, I will judge between one sheep and another, between the rams and the male goats. Is it too slight a thing for you that you should feed in the good pasture, that you must tread down with your feet the rest of your pastures? Or that you should drink of the clear waters, that you must foul the rest with your feet? As for My flock, they must eat what you tread down with your feet and drink what you foul with your feet!’”

Therefore, thus says the Lord God to them, “Behold, I, even I, will judge between the fat sheep and the lean sheep. Because you push with side and with shoulder, and thrust at all the weak with your horns until you have scattered them abroad, therefore, I will deliver My flock, and they will no longer be a prey; and I will judge between one sheep and another.

"Then I will set over them one shepherd, My servant David, and he will feed them; he will feed them himself and be their shepherd. And I, the Lord, will be their God, and My servant David will be prince among them; I the Lord have spoken.

“I will make a covenant of peace with them and eliminate harmful beasts from the land so that they may live securely in the wilderness and sleep in the woods. I will make them and the places around My hill a blessing. And I will cause showers to come down in their season; they will be showers of blessing. Also the tree of the field will yield its fruit and the earth will yield its increase, and they will be secure on their land. Then they will know that I am the Lord, when I have broken the bars of their yoke and have delivered them from the hand of those who enslaved them. They will no longer be a prey to the nations, and the beasts of the earth will not devour them; but they will live securely, and no one will make them afraid. I will establish for them a renowned planting place, and they will not again be victims of famine in the land, and they will not endure the insults of the nations anymore. Then they will know that I, the Lord their God, am with them, and that they, the house of Israel, are My people,” declares the Lord God. “As for you, My sheep, the sheep of My pasture, you are men, and I am your God,” declares the Lord God.

Ferguson: The Latest Manifestation of Systemic Racial Injustice

As someone who has served as a prosecutor, prison educator, and criminal justice reform advocate, I can attest that the recent events in Ferguson, Missouri, culminating in the district attorney's announcement on Monday night that the grand jury voted not to indict Officer Wilson for the killing of Mike Brown, are indicative of deep racial problems in our criminal justice system and our culture in general. The protests in Ferguson and around the country are not simply about this one case, just as the Civil Rights Movement was not merely about where Rosa Parks sat on a Montgomery bus. In both instances, the drama surrounding particular individuals was indicative of larger, systemic injustice. Institutionalized racism, as much as we hate to admit it, is at the core of both episodes, though they are separated by almost six decades.

Officer Wilson's fatal shooting of Mike Brown and the system's refusal to hold the officer accountable serve as a tragic reminder that African-Americans have suffered generations of injustice. First they were enslaved. Although one form of slavery was abolished by the Thirteenth Amendment, black Americans were then subjected to Jim Crow laws, and they were lynched with impunity. Even after the victories of the Civil Rights Movement, for four decades poor African-Americans have been disproportionately targeted by the war on drugs and militarized law enforcement agencies that enforce those laws. At every step of our judicial process, African-Americans receive disparate treatment. They are more likely than their white counterparts to be arrested for similar crimes. Once arrested, they are more likely to be formally charged. Once charged, they are more likely to be convicted. Once convicted, they are more likely to receive sentences of incarceration.

As noted by author Michelle Alexander, when these people are released from prison, they are permanently relegated to the role of second-class citizen. Basic social services are denied them due to their status as convicted felons. They are forever barred from voting, causing entire sections of our communities to be politically disenfranchised. And they must indicate their felon status on job applications, making it increasingly unlikely that they will ever be able to secure meaningful employment. These policies are not overtly based on race, but there is no question that as applied, they have a disproportionate and devastating impact on people of color across the nation.

The shooting of Mike Brown and the grand jury's decision not to indict Officer Wilson are the most recent examples of an awful truth: throughout American history and in our modern society, black lives have not mattered. White society has allowed African-Americans to be enslaved, lynched, warehoused, and shot to death in our streets. We have failed to live up to our stated ideal of all people being created equal. Our lack of concern for the well-being of African-American citizens is manifested not only in the prejudices, suspicions, and fears of our hearts, and not only in our outward words and attitudes, but in the very systems and institutions that claim to do justice.

Perhaps we were foolish to look to the grand jury to indict Officer Wilson, as though the filing of a criminal charge against one man could undo centuries of violent oppression. After all, unjust systems do not correct themselves. Nevertheless, the grand jury's inaction has stoked the fires of anger and frustration in people who can only suffer unequal treatment for so long. As Martin Luther King, Jr. famously said, "A riot is the language of the unheard." Yet many of us would deny African-Americans the right even to be angry. Some of us seem far more concerned about the burning of a car than we ever were over the tragic killing of an unarmed young black man.

Ferguson is one more terrible reminder that we have failed to regard one another as neighbors. We have failed to seek understanding or to act and speak with compassion. Again, Michelle Alexander teaches us that until we confront and conquer the underlying issue of racism, it will continue to manifest itself in insidious new ways in our hearts and our institutions. This is a problem that no grand jury can solve. The work of reconciliation begins not with courts, lawyers, or the media. It begins with me and you.

"Christians" Who Support the Death Penalty

If I believe that I was properly subject to the death penalty for my many sins, and that I was spared only by the grace of God through the execution of Jesus, what sense does it make for me to be pro-death penalty, much less to rejoice in the horrors of a botched execution? It seems to me that quite a few self-professed Christians have not given much consideration to the implications of some of the most basic tenets of their faith. According to the Man himself, a condemned person who has been showed mercy is in a poor position to insist on harsh punishment for another condemned person.

"[T]he kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he had begun to settle them, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him. But since he did not have the means to repay, his lord commanded him to be sold, along with his wife and children and all that he had, and repayment to be made. So the slave fell to the ground and prostrated himself before him, saying, 'Have patience with me and I will repay you everything.' And the lord of that slave felt compassion and released him and forgave him the debt. But that slave went out and found one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and he seized him and began to choke him, saying, 'Pay back what you owe.' So his fellow slave fell to the ground and began to plead with him, saying, 'Have patience with me and I will repay you.' But he was unwilling and went and threw him in prison until he should pay back what was owed. So when his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were deeply grieved and came and reported to their lord all that had happened. Then summoning him, his lord said to him, 'You wicked slave, I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not also have had mercy on your fellow slave, in the same way that I had mercy on you?' And his lord, moved with anger, handed him over to the torturers until he should repay all that was owed him. My heavenly Father will also do the same to you, if each of you does not forgive his brother from your heart." (Matt. 18:23-35).

Easy for Me to Say

According to Walter Brueggemann, “[W]ords, speech, language, and phrase shape consciousness and define reality.” Words are important, so it is imperative that we use them well. As significant as words are, however, if our actions are not aligned with our words, then our words may lose their import. After all, Jesus made it clear that he is more interested in what we do than what we say. (See Matthew 7:21-27, 21:28-31).

I have noticed two specific words that are frequently being used by, pardon the label, progressive Christians: "marginalized" and "oppressed." I have used them many times myself. These and other similar words are popular for describing the kinds of folks for whom Jesus seemed to have special concern, and who accordingly should receive the church's special attention. In many gospel passages, Matthew 25 and Luke 4 being common examples, Jesus echoes Hebrew prophets by proclaiming that the poor, the blind, the hungry, the sick, and the imprisoned are important to God and must not be neglected. Thus, the words "marginalized" and "oppressed" have come to signify many different kinds of people who find themselves excluded from mainstream society, often characterized by diminished opportunities for education and lack of access to meaningful employment, and who may be scorned by the wealthy and powerful members of the community. Marginalized and oppressed people are the opposite of rich and influential. They may be homeless, incarcerated, or illegal immigrants. Recognizing that such people receive special attention in the scriptures, "marginalized" and "oppressed" have become familiar and convenient shorthand for Christian speakers and authors who have a social conscience, who are trying to discern how to follow the teachings of Jesus in the postmodern era, or who simply do not ascribe to the prosperity gospel or the notion that individual salvation after we die is the main point of the gospel. And it is good for the church to be discussing such things.

Here's the rub with the popularization of terms such as "marginalized" and "oppressed," however. While I believe it is true that the people these terms are invoked to describe are in many ways at the heart of the gospel, repeatedly saying so is of little use if I do not know any such people. I can say "marginalized" and "oppressed" over and over again, and I may sound hip and forward-thinking, not at all like Christians who have no regard for the poor, the unhoused, or the imprisoned. But until I am actually friends with such people, of what use is my socially-conscious talk? It is far easier and more comfortable to use such words in a book, a sermon, a conversation over coffee, or a blog post than it is to go to someone who actually is oppressed or lives on the margins of society, learn the person's name and story, enter into a relationship with the person, and stick with them for the long haul. It is tempting to repeat these words and ascribe to these ideas about Jesus' care for the poor but never venture outside my suburban life of privilege. But of what use is it to keep saying "marginalized" inside multi-million dollar church buildings in the wealthiest parts of town? What good does it do to read or write a book about oppressed people from within a gated community of McMansions? If I do not know or hang out with anyone who meets the definition of "marginalized" and "oppressed," what is the point of all my talk? Short-term mission trips are not much of an improvement because there is precious little opportunity for an actual relationship to develop, and they tend to be somewhat paternalistic, with rich people parachuting in to do something that the marginalized people can't manage to do for themselves, then leaving after a few days.

In Romans 12:16, St. Paul does not tell Christians to talk about poor people. Rather, he instructs followers of Jesus to associate with the lowly. In all my years as a Christian, despite countless allusions to Romans 12, I have never heard a preacher focus on this simple command. "Associate with the lowly." Perhaps it is because many preachers are too busy rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful members of their congregations and communities. Bills (and salaries) have to be paid, after all. Perhaps it is because the people in the pews do not want to be told to make friends with homeless people and prisoners. In a church culture that looks more like a country club than a revolutionary movement of love, is it any wonder that we would prefer to drop an occasional allusion to marginalized and oppressed people without ever getting to know any of them? Is it any wonder that we would rather remain insulated in our luxurious suburban bubbles? Is it any wonder that I often ignore this command and instead opt for one more social event with people who look like me and have what I have? I tend to pass over Jesus' instruction in Luke 14 to not host one more dinner for my rich friends and family. I have not one time hosted a party at my house for the poor, crippled, lame, or blind. Merely saying "marginalized" and "oppressed" does not change this embarrassing fact.