More Thoughts about Social Justice and Faith

Written for the August, 2013, church newsletter:

Dear Friends,

An extraordinary event is coming up for the Eggebeens - a reunion of a group of pastors with whom Donna and I began our life in the PCUSA. For all of us, it was our first time in ministry - we were all young, and all fresh out of seminary, and now we're all retired, at the end of our separate journeys, yet out time together in the West Virginia Mountain Project shaped us for the rest of our lives.

With one of the couples, we've been fortunate to stay in touch; with the other two, only marginally. But we're all getting together this September in San Jose where one of the couples live. The other two couples are traveling respectively from Pennsylvania and Virginia. 

We're writing reflection papers, and here's something I recently wrote:

Ever since my first pastorate (1970-71) in the coal fields of Southern West Virginia, I realized that Christianity and justice belong together, that Christianity has the wherewithal to deal with economic questions and the power to challenge the powers-that-be. 

Yet, I also learned, that American Christianity, under the Reformation notion of "salvation for eternal life," has been used to quiet people's unrest in the present order by offering them a sop for some future joy.

For those who lived in the powerful regions of the nation, with large homes and shiny cars, enjoying fine choirs and eloquent preachers, this was a convenient kind of Christianity. They, too, would be going to heaven, but, in the meantime, they were at liberty to enjoy the fruits of their labors - that such fruit was plucked out of the mouths of babes and out of the hands of sweat-drenched workers was of no account to them. Perhaps this is what God ordained.

These experience and observations have been the energy of my theology and sociology throughout my ministry. A Christianity that has the power to do something and chooses not to, opting for some sort of "inner peace with eternal hope" is no Christianity at all. And it's no wonder that most of the Western World, where this kind of Christianity has had the greatest influence, is rejecting it. And it can't happen soon enough.

With that, here are some further reflections: I have spent my entire ministry trying to put one-and-one together - social justice and faith in Jesus. 

Even in seminary days, I recall thinking: strong faith in Jesus equals strong social justice; they walk hand-in-hand with one another. 

To separate them does several damaging things: 1) though social justice can stand on its own - we all know what's right, and what fair means - nonetheless, without a faith-foundation of some kind, social justice can lose its bearings and its energy, though social justice without faith fares a whole lot better than faith without social justice. 2) Faith without social justice is no faith at all, but only Marx's "opiate of the people," mostly used by the comfortable to insulate themselves from reality, and to "calm the rabble," lest they demand from the comfortable their fair share.

No doubt, social justice doesn't need faith to survive, and God be praised for that. God sees to it that social justice can stand on it's own (though I believe social justice without faith is like song lyrics without the music). And if someone asks me, "What kind of faith" I reply, "Just about anything that has a transcendent dimension to it - that of a scientist in awe before the universe or a child's prayer before bedtime, and it's to be found, as well, in all the religions of the world."

As for faith, God designed faith in such a way that it needs social justice to be faith, and without social justice, God sees to it that faith becomes deeply twisted and malignant. Sadly, it creates terrible conditions for those who practice faith without social justice, and does great harm to those who are the objects of faith-preaching without social justice.

Of this kind of Christianity, God is cleansing the world, I believe. The demise of Western Christendom is very much the result of God's housecleaning.

I eagerly anticipate our reunion and hearing from my colleagues their stories of faith, hope and love.

Pastor Tom 

A White-Bread Boy

A White-Bread Boy, that’s what I am … to the core, pure, plain and simple.

Mom was of German ancestry, her family arriving here in 1848.

Dad was of Dutch stock, his family arriving here in the 1890s.

And we were racist to the core … deeply religious, too. We all loved Jesus, went to evangelical Reformed Churches, served the LORD and abided in God’s word … and racist to the core.

That’s how I grew up.

In Wisconsin and Western Michigan … I’ll not rehearse the ugliness of it all, but ugly it was, and I was pretty damn ugly, too, as were all my high school and church friends - the whole white environment, establishment, and their world of Christian Schools and Churches, filled to the brim, Sunday morning and Sunday evening, with Wednesday evening catechism and prayer meetings. Not a person of color to be found anywhere, except in missionary tales of Deepest Darkest Africa. Everyone was pious, and when I was 15 or 16, I bought me a big ol’ Thompson Chain Reference Bible, King James, of course, and in that Bible, I could find a verse for everything, but especially for proving how right everyone was, and I carried it to church, too. I was into god, and, yes, God was into me, too … in ways I would only much later discern, and for that, I’m grateful. That this innocent/guilty White-Bread Racist Boy was still the object of God’s mercy.

To make a long story a little shorter, it was in college, Calvin College, that I was converted. With everlasting thanks, I note two professors in particular who opened my mind and my heart: Professor Roger Rice, Sociologist, who had us read Michael Harrington’s The Other America. And Professor Donald Wilson, Anthropologist, who told chilling stories of missionary zeal and cultural abuse. To this day, I recall both professors, and give thanks for my conversion to a gospel that I had “known” all of my life, and with hymns, sung and fine doctrinal preaching; but, now, for the first time in my life, I saw a larger world, and the folly of my faith, the harm it’s done and the callous manner in which it sided with the racist patterns of America.

Maybe I’m alone in this - the way I raised, with plenty of religion and plenty of racism - and finally, by the grace of God, beginning to figure it out: that religion and racism do not belong together, and where there is racism, the professed faith is more an illusion than a reality, more about heaven, of course, and so little about this world, other than avoiding its taint, doing what could be done to convert lost souls and persevering to the end. Meanwhile, it’s okay to fear and hate your neighbor, if they’re persons of color, because they’ll come into the neighborhood, and there goes the neighborhood. And if met on the street, be careful - they’re all dangerous.

I’ve learned a lot over the years, and I’m still learning. 

When I was in Detroit, I learned that in the postal system there, well up into the 80s, white supervisors routinely assisted white applicants with the testing, even adjusting scores, while making it virtually impossible for African-Americans to enter the system.

Never once in my whole life have I been humiliated because of my color. Never once. Never once have I been denied anything because of color. Never once.

I now have African-American relatives, and I’ve learned a few things from them.

It’s not a pretty picture, and there’s no end to the humiliation they’ve experienced - centuries of it, to this very day.

Perhaps the Trayvon Martin jury decided correctly - it was just too difficult to prove, either second-degree murder or manslaughter.

But for many African-Americans, it’s just one more humiliation, one more moment in a long and sad history of discrimination - the failure of virtually every system in America - schools, churches and courts.

I was a racist, and though much of it has been removed from my life, the stains remain on my soul and in my memories - stains that can’t be removed, and that’s all right, because then I can never claim innocence. 

So I know racism, because shreds of it still flow around the dark edges of my spirit and mind. I hate it, but that’s the way it is. It’s my reality, and if there’s grace in this world, it can operate only in my reality. Grace, thankfully, doesn’t need a clean environment in which to do its work. Though grace cleanses, not even grace can remove the stains of the past.

So I know racism when I see it in others, because I know it so well in my own life.

The racist looks at the Trayvon Martin story and says, “Justice was done.” That’s that, and like Lady MacBeth, simply washes her hands, endlessly.

But I look at it and say, “It’s one more sad chapter in a story of unrelenting sorrow and humiliation.”

I cannot pretend this kind of hurt isn’t real. It is real, all too real, for millions of people.

I will not close my eyes to the sorrow of others, and though the jury may have rightly ruled, though I think not, many in our nation see this as one more episode of justice denied, a moment filled with all the usual suspects of hoodies, black teens, white women frightened, racist males acting tough with a gun in their hand, nonchalant police and courtrooms where defending white honor is more important than the truth.

That’s how I see it.

And don’t anyone tell me I don’t know what racism is.

A Post-Trial Statement - Calvary Presbyterian Church, Hawthorne, CA

Sunday, July 14, 2013 … a statement - Calvary Presbyterian Church, Hawthorne, CA

My heart is troubled.

I am deeply disappointed with George Zimmerman’s acquittal … I believe he was guilty of manslaughter … he provoked the encounter with Trayvon Martin when advised to stand down. Then, in the fight, with Trayvon getting the upper hand, George Zimmerman used his gun to kill the boy.

That’s how I see it!

I know that some feel justice was done.

I know that others feel betrayed by a legal system that has far too often revealed its tragic weaknesses.

While we live in a land of laws, however noble and good those laws may be on a piece of paper, they are good only when interpreted by good people who strive for the common good and not just their own good … and those laws, however noble, are noble only when noble people put them into practice, consistently for all.

There are many questions here that Christians need to ponder … the last thing God needs from us is to retreat from reality, to hide in our prayers and songs. We have to live in this world, as it is, if we hope to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world.

No one lights a lamp, said Jesus, and then covers it with a bushel. No, the lamp is lit for a purpose - to let our light shine, that others will see our good works and praise our Father in heaven.

A part of our good works is to bring to the matters of life our very best in faith, hope and love, critical thought and keen assessment … and to live the LORD’s Prayer, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

If we are convinced that God’s will was done yesterday, then so be it. Be at peace.

As for me, I believe the legal system failed God’s will yesterday in Florida, as it has failed for millions of people in this nation - and sadly, it’s has failed miserably for people of color. That’s a fact, and we cannot and must not hide from the truth, ugly as it is.

I pray that calm heads will review these matters, and that Christians will raise up the bright light of justice … and seek the common good … for all Americans, whatever their color, whatever their race, whatever their religious persuasion.

Christians have a chance to set the pace, and hold before the world something better.

May it be so … unto the glory of God!

The Rev. Dr. Tom Eggebeen

Reality, Greed and Gordon Gecko

I write the following out of my own Christian convictions and Presbyterian history - there is no such thing as "earned" wealth - there is no such thing as "hard work" that elevates one over another; there is no such thing, as I often hear, "The harder I work, the luckier I am."

I heard that once years ago from a successful businessman - I knew then that something was wrong about it, because at the very center of it stood the singular word, "I".

In simple terms: behind all success stands the mysteries of life, stuff we didn't invent, and stuff that mostly manipulates us, for whatever reasons there may be - either of divine purpose, genetic impulse or evolutionary drift.

Behind all success stands, then, a long line of free lunches, gifts from life to us.

The "hard work" touted by some as their own is an illusion of the worst kind. Their values and their health come from beyond themselves. Ask someone who's ill about "hard work." Any attempt to lay personal claim, on any of this, leads only to bragging and pride, and we all know what that does to the core of our being.

Behind all success, the simple mysteries: the family we didn't choose, the values of faith, hope and love, that were given. The schools we attended, and the teachers who believed in us even when we didn't believe in ourselves.

The banker who gave us a loan when no one else would. All along the way, folks who stood by us, helped us, and encouraged us, and a God who made it all possible, who wove it all together that we might find life and do something with it.

I know there are lots of "theological" questions swirling around this right now, but I'm content to speak of "telos," that is, the purpose toward which all life reaches, and it's always greater than the individual, or even a society.

The upshot of this is simple: there is but one response to life - and that's gratitude, and it's sibling, generosity.

Sin creates the Gordon Gecko syndrome. Reality creates kindness. Sadly, Gordon Gecko won the last 30 years of American History: "Greed works."

But it doesn't. It divides one from the other and posits in the soul of the successful unmitigated pride which is deadly to the soul, and nothing deader than a successful person who has consumed large quantities of pride, even when that pride is dressed up in religious language and Jesus-talk - some of the very worst examples of souls deadened with pride.

I return to something I wrote a few days back: "A wealthy person, a successful person, can only say one thing, 'I've been damn lucky!'" To say anything else, as if they had a hand in it, is a lie, an illusion, a deadly sin.

The World of the Anti-Abortionist

For those who oppose abortion, there is no greater evil!

No greater wrong.

And none more loathsome than those who perform abortions and those who support them.

From podium and pulpit and print, they hear and live a constant message: God hates abortion, the willful termination of life before birth; there is no greater violation of God's will and purpose than abortion, and no greater sinner than those who do the deed and those who are their political and religious accomplices.

Roe v. Wade is the greatest cause of America's downfall. Until such time as this great evil is cancelled, America's downturn will continue, and God's curse upon us will intensify.

And so on and so forth.

I appreciate the intensity of their faith and the power of the message.

No less so than my own faith and the power of the message I hear every day in my part of the world.

The purpose of this essay is not to analyze, but to respect the intensity of the anti-abortionist ... respect it for what it's worth - and it's not without worth. Commitment and energy are never without worth.

Sadly, it's nearly impossible for people of such opposing points of view to ever share a cup of coffee or a glass of wine. Rarely, do people of such divergent opinions have a chance to share with one another, not only their respective views, which are pretty much on the surface of things, but the deeper stuff, the inner motives and fears, what Jung might have termed, "the shadow" within all of us. Why we respond to life as we do - with love and anger, hope and despair, welcome and rejection.

Why is it that we stand firm on some principles and loose on others?

Believe in some things and then let other things go?

What we seek in life, and what we ignore?

What we treasure and what we discard?

It's not easy to see ourselves and why we respond as we do.

It's mostly how we were reared (nurture), but I think DNA (nature) plays a decisive role, too.

Hard to see it all, and it takes work.

As I contemplate those with whom I seriously disagree, I have to constantly face myself, so that I remain centered in my life's task and the values I cherish. Constantly questioning myself, but not losing myself in the questions, lest I become bogged down and fail to act.

I am what I am in terms of what I cherish and believe. But those very things are best served with self-awareness and caution.

While I might be tempted to discredit those with whom I disagree, it would be a mistake to ignore their humanness - their loneliness and their fears, their nagging sense of time passing and the coming of death, the loss of hope that all experience at varying times in the journey, the quest for meaning and the power of religious communities to convey wholeness and strength.

Everyone puts their pants on one leg at a time.

I forget that sometimes ... I forget the humanness of those with whom I disagree, or those whom I find disagreeable to me ... and I forget my own humanness, too - my unfinished work, my fears and weaknesses, the junk floating around in my spirit.

Yes, of course, to appreciate and regard well my gifts, and they are many and varied - but the work of integration is never done, and there's a great deal remaining.

For me.

For others.

For all.

The struggle will continue ... Cain rises up against Abel ... and each of us, all of us, are both Cain and Abel within ourselves, and within society, alternating at times, being the one who destroys, and the one who is destroyed.

I suppose when Micah suggests that we walk humbly with God, this might be the piece that flows from the deep awareness of ourselves - a strange brew of so many voices and experiences and shadows. We are Abel and Cain, both.

We are called, so it seems, by the very nature of life, to make choices and take a stand, nonetheless. Life doesn't afford us endless time with which to ponder the eternal verities and gather further information before we choose, before we act.

So choose we do, and act we must. And why I should be in one place, and someone else in another, is, or course, a great mystery, demanding both gratitude for life and respect for the other, to recognize their humanity and their passion, and grant them what I would hope they could grant to me - respect and a listening ear, a willingness to consider thoughtfully their world.

And to engage in dialogue, as best we can, when those rare opportunities emerge.

And most importantly, while critiquing points of view and arguments, to refrain from vilifying and never to lose sight of the humanness, the vulnerability, we all share.

Yes, I know - I've not resolved anything in the above essay. But I've pondered some things that seem important to me, and maybe to you, too.

And maybe I have a grown a wee bit more ...

The Clay Feet of Big Biz

America has got to stop worshipping at the clay feet of Big Biz - what we need in government are philosophers, thinkers, historians - women and men who can think through the big questions with more than a care for the bottom line and how to enhance the wealth of the all-ready wealthy; who can bring to bear on today's issues the wisdom of the years, the centuries.

We don't need the corporate-jet mentality; we need minds enthralled with justice, hearts driven by compassion, women and men trained to think critically, comprehensively, generously. Who truly know the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, legislative history and Supreme Court decisions.

For me, the minds of business, these days, if not always, are way to small to govern a good nation; way to small to comprehend the glory of America and its democratic experiment.

We have in Obama a fine mind, the kind of mind we need to lead, and we need to surround him with women and men of equal vision and mindfulness, with the courage to tell the truth about the American Dream and lead us to better days, for all the people.

The War-Gods Were Pleased

A memorial service for a Korean War Veteran yesterday ... before "my" part of the service, a simple military rite at the mortuary, with the folding of the flag and presentation to the widow by two young soldiers dressed well in honor-guard uniform, smart and polished, and gentle.

At the gravesite later in the day, Veterans of Foreign Wars, older men, and one woman who had been a nurse in Vietnam, with a 3-gun salute, so very loud, the crisp sound of empty brass hitting ground-level tombstones; there was another folding of the flag, with readings, this time. The readings were eloquent, poetic - full of god-talk, honor and glory, with a constant refrain, "Freedom isn't free." The man who read read thoughtfully, a veteran of WW2 and Korea - with a kindly demeanor, and he walked with a slight limp; I'm sure he was someone's grampa, a good grampa, I'm sure.

I stood by the mausoleum, uneasy in spirit.

I felt the pleasure of the gods of war, standing tall, front and center, arms sternly folded ... and the Prince of Peace, killed by the gods of war, and the gods of religion, too, wept quietly off to the side.

Nothing new with any of this ... nations have, for centuries, forever, since Lamech killed a man for wounding him (Genesis 4), been falling down at the feet of the war-gods ... wanting desperately to make war glorious, and, of course, always right. "My country, right or wrong," it was noted during the readings.

The man buried yesterday was a good and fine man, who loved his family and gave this world some very good things.

When he went to Korea, he went as all soldiers do, I'm sure, and for 11 months, he was a mail courier, winning a Purple Heart for being shrapnel-wounded.

He was proud of his service, and his family was proud of him.

But I'm uneasy about the deceptions nations spin about war. The terrible lies we tell about the glories of war and the honors of death for god and country.

I cannot fault him for his time in the army, not can I fault the two young men of the Honor Guard nor the old and tottering Veterans of Foreign Wars.

But humankind, all nations, love war ... we really do. It's in our collective DNA ... it's our fatal flaw, this blind loyalty to tribe and land ... and our willingness to close our eyes and ears and dream dreams of glory, even as we send our youth off to be cannon fodder.

I find in poetry, however, truth-telling - with so many of startling poems coming out of Britain during World War 1, when Britain suffered serious reversals, all blanked out by the home-town newspapers, and nearly a million deaths - an entire generation of young men wiped out in the muddy trenches of France.

Here's a poem with truth-telling:

Joining The Colours

THERE they go marching all in step so gay!
Smooth-cheeked and golden, food for shells and guns.
Blithely they go as to a wedding day,
The mothers' sons.

The drab street stares to see them row on row
On the high tram-tops, singing like the lark.
Too careless-gay for courage, singing they go
Into the dark.

With tin whistles, mouth-organs, any noise,
They pipe the way to glory and the grave;
Foolish and young, the gay and golden boys
Love cannot save.

High heart! High courage! The poor girls they kissed
Run with them : they shall kiss no more, alas!
Out of the mist they stepped-into the mist
Singing they pass. 

Katharine Tynan, 1914

Katharine Tynan