Faith Thinking Aloud

Good Friday with No Gatherings

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This Holy Week is strange. Our churches are not gathering for worship although many, including ours, are gathering digitally for worship as best we can.

Last night, as we reckon time, was Maundy Thursday or, as some churches prefer to call it, Holy Thursday – the night of the last supper and of Jesus’ arrest in the garden of Gethsemane where our gospels show us his struggle in prayer with the horror he sees coming upon him. For him, as for all Jews who followed a lunar calendar, the day of his suffering and death began at sundown of what we call Thursday and continued until sunset on what we call Friday. It was all one day.

The name Maundy comes from a popular corruption of the Latin word mandatum, commandment. In the Gospel of John, chapter 13, Jesus says to his disciples on that night as the day of his death begins, “A new commandment (mandatum) I give you, that you love one another.”

This morning, as I started reading through some Maundy Thursday meditations I preached years ago before my retirement, I came upon the one from April 9, 2009, which I am sharing below, with any who choose to read it.

Were We There? Was I?


Was I there when Jesus was crucified? The most obvious, unreflective answer is, of course, “No.” Jesus of Nazareth was crucified almost two thousand years ago. But the literal is not always the truest.

Sacramentally, I have been there many times and will be there again with you this evening. In my hands I will hold the symbolic elements of his humiliation, suffering, and death, and by taking those symbols of his broken body into my own living body, I will confess both that Jesus did it for me and, also, that he “had to” do it because of me. He did not “have to” do it, of course, except that he was compelled by his faithfulness to the unyielding love of God for this world and its people. By eating the bread and drinking from the cup, I will admit that I am the reason for his crucifixion in both senses: he did it for me, because God loves me, and he did it because of me, because of my alienation from God and from other people. I am both the beneficiary and the cause of his pain.

This evening, I am there, there in the flesh, as one loved by God and, at the same time, one alienated from God, still divided from other people, and still a long way from being the person God created me to become. So, here I am again, hoping and trusting that this simple ritual somehow brings me into closer contact with Jesus in his passion, somehow takes hold of me and brings home to me that terrible event on which my life, my hope, and my salvation depend.

But the sacramental is not enough. To be there with him, I need to find him crucified in my real world and not just in the peace and calm of the sanctuary, in the familiar words and actions of the sacrament. A crucifixion was very much an event of the flesh. It was torture and humiliation, very bodily. If God’s love and presence were incarnated (made flesh) for us in the birth of the baby Jesus, how much more so in the breaking of the man’s body? His crucifixion is the supreme incarnation of God’s love and presence. Humanity did not just get to see, hear, and touch him; we got to mock, torture, and kill him. We made the incarnation of God’s love suffer and die.

How can we go beyond the sacramental in being there when and where Jesus is crucified? I think we can start by realizing that Jesus suffered not only for this world but also with it. On the cross he represented God fully to us, in is own dying human body, and he also represented us to God, as the human put to shame and suffering in an unjust, often seemingly Godless world. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus of Nazareth dies with – in unity with – all the countless God-forsaken people in our world.

The sacramental is good, helpful, and sustaining, but it is not enough. We need to find him crucified in the real, everyday world around us. Once we understand, once our eyes have been opened and our ears unplugged, he is not hard to find. He’s there, every day, all around us in what theologians call the cruciform. What is the cruciform? Literally, it is anything in the shape or form of a cross, but in theology it refers to the many experiences of life people find themselves forced to share with the crucified Jesus, whether or not they realize they are sharing in his experience and he in theirs. Life is harsh and often most unfair by any reasonable standard of judgment, and people can be cruel. Sometimes people are quite actively and brutally cruel; at other times, they are more casual, even offhand, about their cruelties – dismissive of those made to suffer, of those cheated, of those left out.

The cruelties, brutal or polite, have this in common: they proceed by dehumanizing their victims. Did you notice as I read from the Gospel of Mark how much emphasis the passion narrative puts on the shaming of Jesus? Despite Mel Gibson’s bloody depiction, the gospels have far more to say about Jesus’ humiliation than about his physical pain. Crucifixion was designed as public shaming, to make an example of the rebel and so attach shame to anyone who would consider rebellion against the empire that people would turn away from following him. The would-be leader of the rebellion was to die screaming, cursing, and begging while being mocked and taunted the whole while, sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. Notice that Pilate is surprised Jesus has died so soon. For the person crucified, death is the savior that never comes soon enough.

“Were you there when they crucified my Lord?” That song comes from a human experience that is, indeed, cruciform because it was so dehumanizing and humiliating. To be a slave is to be, twenty-four hours every day, less than a person. We even debated the fraction of a person by which a slave should be counted so the slave states could get more voting power without having to admit the unthinkable, that slaves were people.

We are people and for the most part acknowledged as such, though not always. Go and stand with the unpopular, and you may find your status suddenly reduced to the level of theirs. There it is, the link that takes us beyond the sacramental. Empathy that comes from standing with and among as one of them the people regarded as shameful, as less than valid human beings, unites us with Jesus crucified. Empathy speaks of suffering shared not just pitied. We can indulge in pity from a safe distance, but true empathy requires interaction, dialogue, and identification. Jesus branded himself a sinner by hanging around with sinners, treating them with respect, and sharing the scorn they received from the commendable people.

At the Lord’s Table, I know anew that I am not one of the commendable people, those who live exemplary lives. Jesus made a practice of pointing out to the virtuous that they were not so commendable as they pretended to be. They were playing the role of exemplary people, and so they were actors, role-players, for which the gospels’ term is hypocrite. Here in the sacrament, I know again as I receive the symbols of his humiliation, that Jesus endured it willingly both for me and because of me. There is nothing commendable in my receiving the bread and wine, but there is grace, and there is hope. I believe there is also a challenge and a calling. As the followers of Jesus who put our trust in him, we need to be there, where he is being crucified. We can be there with him when we stop playing the role of exemplary and commendable persons and, instead, enter into the shame and grief of people whose experience of life is cruciform. For where they are, there he is also. Amen.

For Christians Tempted to False Shows of Faith

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In a time of rampant viral infection with as yet no inoculation against that infection, Christians may be tempted to flout the instructions to self-isolate to retard the communication and spread of the corona virus. After all, are we not people of faith? Do we take our direction from government or from Christ? Should we cower in fear of a measly virus too tiny to see when our ancestors in the faith stood up against ruthless emperors and vicious barbarians alike?

You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,

will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust.”

For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence;

he will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge;

his faithfulness is a shield and buckler. You will not fear the terror of the night, or the arrow that flies by day,

or the pestilence that stalks in darkness, or the destruction that wastes at noonday.

A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.

You will only look with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked.

Because you have made the Lord your refuge,

the Most High your dwelling place,

no evil shall befall you, no scourge come near your tent.

(Psalm 91:1-10 NRSV)

There are preachers challenging their congregations to just that – to come out to services, hug each other, and so disdain the threat of viral infection. What a great show of faith in Jesus Christ, right! No, wrong. Very, very wrong.

Our ancestors in the faith did not seek out the questionable glory of facing lions or gladiators in the Roman arena. Later, it is true, some did long for and seek martyrdom so they could attain that questionable glory; some even appealed to the churches not to intervene on their behalf with the authorities. But we are not called to seek our own glory; neither are we summoned to seek death. The apostle Paul has a word for such glory seeking:

If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. (1Corinthians 13:3 RSV)

The gospels of Matthew and Luke give us an extended look into the temptations of Jesus related to his own identity and ministry. Did he not believe in his calling? Did he not trust in God, his Father? Was he afraid or ashamed to stand up and show his faith? Would he play it safe? Did he not believe who he was? Was his success not the most important thing of all?

The voice of temptation, identified as the devil in the gospels, challenges him to assert himself, to step forward in courage and confidence, and to leave no doubt about his special relationship with God that would surely both protect him from harm and prosper him in his messianic destiny to power and glory. From that very same Psalm 91, the tempter quotes to persuade Jesus.

Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'” (Matthew 4:5,6 NRSV quoting from Psalm 91)

Jesus rejects the temptation for what it is. True faith neither seeks out danger for the sake of self-glorification nor displays its trust in God for show. Faith does not try to put God into the position of having to tag along behind religious self-promotion that pretends to glorify God while actually taking the lead and expecting God to follow rather than be shamed by failure to deliver the flaunted protection.

Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'” (Matthew 4:5-7 NRSV)

No, Jesus would take the hard path of empathy with the people, humble trust in God, compassion for the suffering and sinful, and openness to God’s will for the future of his messiahship (which would be the shameful and torturous nightmare of Roman crucifixion for our sake). Let us not listen to the preachers of power and glory whose way is not Jesus’ way. The corona virus is an enemy from which we can protect those we love as well as the many God loves though we ourselves do not know. Let us not care less about God’s children than those who spurn God and disdain the name of Jesus Christ. We are not called to put on a display of our faith (and so dare God not to keep us safe despite our irresponsibility and ridiculous self-assertion). Let us not put our God to the test.

The science of the viral infection is real. Let us follow the instructions and pray for their success in flattening the curve of the virus’s spread so our hospitals and health care workers will not be overwhelmed. Yes, indeed, we pray for the people we know and love, but let us not pray for them without caring about the many, many people of this nation and world we do not know and cannot name but may very well infect, lest we belie our prayers with selfishness and deny God’s love for all the world’s people. We are not called to show how very, very special we are, how much more important than the rest of the world’s people. We are called to serve God’s love for all people and to do so in the way of the Servant Christ.

Sleeping with a Snake

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A new friend whose son is deeply engaged in learning about and caring for snakes passed along to us a cautionary tale his son had told him. A woman had taken to napping with her pet snake, a constrictor, sharing the bed with her. It stretched out beside her, and she seemed certain it loved her in the way a dog might. Our friend said his son assured him the snake did not love the woman or feel any affection for her whatsoever but was more likely sizing her up as potential food. One can hope only that either the snake stopped growing or the woman wised up before it grew big enough to strangle and swallow her.

A snake is a reptile and, the son explained, cannot love. It does not feel affection, is not capable of loyalty. It simply is not in the nature of a snake to care about a human except as threat or food source (one way or another).

After casting her vote not to convict, Senator Susan Collins explained that she believed Donald Trump would have been chastened by his impeachment and so have learned a lesson. Trump rejected her suggestion as offensive nonsense, insisting he had done nothing wrong and had no lesson to learn. It is not in the nature of Donald Trump to feel remorse, accept correction, or care about either the law or the well-being of others.

Our current president is said to be a malignant narcissist, and that mental illness is said to be incurable, at least currently. The descriptions I have read of malignant narcissism seem to fit disturbingly well. He does seem incapable of empathy with other humans, and he does seem to see everything in life as being all about him and only him or else irrelevant. The very idea of remorse for something hurtful he has done offends him.

In the final confrontation between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort, J. K. Rowling’s protagonist and chief antagonist, Harry warns the Dark Lord to try for some remorse because Harry has seen what Voldemort will become if he does not. The Dark Lord exclaims, “What is this?” and then makes his move to kill Harry. For him, remorse is unthinkable. It is not in his nature but contrary to all he has become as he has grown less and less human and more like a snake.

Donald Trump is a human being, not a snake, but seems to lack the most essential human qualities and capabilities. He evidences no empathy and, therefore, no compassion. Everything is continuously and embarrassingly all about him, and he requires constant and extravagant praise upon which to feed his ego. He exalts revenge as though it were an honorable virtue and delights in it.

Theologically, I must insist Trump is not beyond redemption, even if the psychiatrists are correct that his condition is (currently) incurable. I can pray for his healing even though seeing how healing can come is far beyond me. What I think is clearly dangerous is to imagine that, by experience or his own conscience, he will learn to be a better man and a better president. He will not. His condition is tragic, but for now the tragedy is not his alone but our nation’s and, because the United States wields so much power, also the world’s. Therefore, my prayers for his healing must come second to my prayers for our deliverance from his power.

Scrap the Latin Phrase

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Quid pro quo, “this for that.” While the phrase covers enough different types of proposals for deals to include what Donald Trump did to the president of Ukraine, we should stop using it because the Latin phrase hides his illegal and gangster-style action which threatened two nations – Ukraine and the United States of America.

If you and I both have children who play soccer, and I call you to suggest that I’ll drive your child to the practice tomorrow evening if you will drive mine home afterwards, that’s a quid pro quo that would merely give each of us some free time that evening. Such a deal bears no resemblance to what Donald Trump did. I have not threatened to hurt your child or burn down your house if you refuse.

Trump made the president of Ukraine “an offer he couldn’t refuse” (from the book and movie, The Godfather) and withdrew that “offer” only after learning he had been caught making it. Call it a shakedown or an attempt at extortion, not an offer of quid pro quo. It was extortion. Call it what it was.

What President Trump demanded was an illicit advantage, not for the United States, but for Donald J. Trump. He wanted the president of Ukraine to announce that his nation was initiating an investigation into alleged corruption involving Joe and Hunter Biden so the Trump campaign could gain phony dirt on his expected opponent in his upcoming race for a second term. Ukraine didn’t need to find anything or even fabricate something corrupt but only to announce the investigation including the Biden name and keep it going. Trump was after another Benghazi: no need to find anything, just keep investigating and chanting the name.

How was this shakedown an offer Ukraine couldn’t refuse? The military aid had been appropriated by our Congress to protect Ukraine and keep Russia from pushing further in and slaughtering Ukraine’s people. Congress was protecting an ally and so looking out for our national interest and security. For Trump, the stake in the deal was political advantage for himself; for Ukraine it was a matter of life and death.

Trump further dangled a White House visit, a sinister offer that would have corrupted the Ukrainian president himself by showing the world he did the dirty deal for his own political advantage, also. The White House visit would have enhanced the Ukrainian president’s standing at home, and so his hands would have seemed as dirty as Trump’s.

“Do as we tell you, and take the money we’re offering you or something might happen to that lovely daughter of yours, and it would be a shame if her face weren’t so pretty any more.” If the official takes the mob’s money, he does so to protect his daughter but also thereby becomes corrupt himself. He cannot protest later without incriminating himself. That’s how mobsters take control of officials. That’s the nature of this Trump deal.

The president had no right or authority to withhold the military aid Congress had appropriated. His doing so violated the law. His making the offer the president of Ukraine “couldn’t refuse” violated the law and was an abuse of his office.

Was the offer for a quid pro quo? Yes, the Latin phrase covers it but vaguely and not helpfully. It certainly wasn’t anything like parents helping each other navigate an evening that included their children’s soccer practice. It wasn’t just a deal. It was a dirty deal that would have ensnared an ally’s leader and made him a puppet, not of the United States, but of Donald Trump.

Waiting Tables

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Four years of college, a hundred thousand dollars in debt, graduated with honors, more than a hundred applications sent out, but no job. She’s waiting tables in a local restaurant, and waiting is the irony. It truly is what she’s doing, waiting. Trying. Hoping. Trying to hope.

People think they are being helpful. “You need to enlarge your geographical spread of applications.” I’ve sent them all over the country, even to places I don’t really want to live. “Maybe you should retrain.” I’ve just finished college, and I’ll be in debt for the rest of my life. Sure, I’ll retrain. Then I’ll be twice as deep in debt and unemployed in two fields.

She took the course on résumé writing. More money gone. She took the workshop on interviewing, on how to suck up to human resources people. She even tried some of the tactics – hated herself for the cloying things she said, wanted to stick her finger down her throat. But didn’t get a job.

“You need to network.” Right, network. Waste more time on social media, go to gatherings of people who can’t get jobs, make connections. Yes, networking worked for my friends who have gotten jobs: they networked with their own parents who had connections. Am I supposed to find new parents with connections?

She doesn’t go to church services any more, not so much because she doesn’t care about God (although her faith is strained just now) as because she’s sick of listening to advice from older people who can tell her offhandedly what she’s not doing right. She’s tired of explaining, of rehearsing her frustration and shame for near-strangers who begin their questioning with, “Are you still . . . ?” Yeah, I’m still looking for a job. Thanks for reminding me. That’s why I came to church you know – to be reminded of my failure by someone wise who knows even less about it than he cares.

Will she soon be among the passed over? The already picked over applicant pool? The rejects? The not chosen? Disqualified because she’s been looking so long?

“Miss, what’s taking so long for our drinks to come?”

The Nursery

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The nursery is freshly painted, the crib empty. Her due date has become the birthday never to be. She’ll never know whether her baby was a boy or a girl. Baby? It wasn’t a baby, they’ve told her. It! She wanted to scream, “My baby is not an ‘it’!” My baby is not. My baby . . . not.

“It would have been worse if you’d lost a child you had birthed, gotten to know, and loved.” Worse. So, I could be hurt even more. If this is what it feels like to hurt less, I so glad it isn’t worse. Just so damn glad!

“You can try again. Maybe God just wasn’t ready for you to have a baby yet. Maybe you needed to learn something first. Maybe the child you do have will be even more precious to you, and you’ll be better parents.”

“Maybe.” Am I so deficient that I wouldn’t have been able to love the child I wanted so much? Am I not enough to be a mother?

“Maybe God . . . .” She believes in God. Not just in God’s existence. She trusts God, counts on God, even tries to love God. Did God do this to her? Why do people have babies they don’t want? Why do some go for abortions? Is she supposed to be learning something from this? Please, don’t let me turn bitter. Please don’t let.

She had a due date. Now that date will not be a birthday, but she knows she’ll never get it out of her mind, off her mental calendar. As long as she lives, it will be the would-have-been birthday. No candles, no cakes, no parties. Tears.

Isn’t the death of expectation and promise worthy of grief? Are her arms less empty for never having held her child?

She closes the nursery door, but it won’t close. Not really.

Plant Closing

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The plant is closing. Just like that. Thirty years of dedication and hard work gone. Health care insurance gone. Pension? Who knows? Maybe that’s gone, too. They had to make the announcement right before Christmas, didn’t they? Merry Christmas! and go to . . . . Years ago, the company gave Christmas parties for all the men who worked on the line, the production line. Yes, men. They were all men then. The only women worked in the front office, as secretaries.

Didn’t he know that the work he was doing was damaging his body, ruining his health, and no doubt shortening his life? Yes, of course he knew it, but a man has to do. He’s a man, and he’ll do what it takes to provide for his family. But what can he do now? How can he be the man in his family, for his wife and kids? What will he leave for his grandkids? Hell, they still owe some on the mortgage. Will they lose their home, too?

The society has moved on, leaving him behind. Retrain, they say. He’ll soon be fifty. Who wants to train him, and for what? He didn’t go to college. He’s missing half a finger he lost to his job when something slipped, the safety guard that was supposed to protect his hand. He still doesn’t know how, but it surely did slip. His fault they said.

Competitive, that’s their word. The company has to stay competitive. That means shipping fabrication work out of the country, first to China and then, when that deal didn’t work, to Canada. Now, he guesses, it means shipping everything out, leaving behind a ghost town.

That and poison. Years ago, the company had so poisoned the creek that he couldn’t fish it in any more — no point. The tap water began to taste funny and only got worse. He’d almost gotten used to the smell in the air, but when he took the family on a vacation, it was there waiting for them when they returned. Well, at least he won’t have that problem any more; there won’t be any more vacations, except maybe one long one going nowhere.

But for all that – lost finger, stinky air, bad water, and body aches here and there, shortness of breath – he was a man. He did what he had to do and provided for his family. And there were good times. He could afford the food and beer for a big family reunion. He could put aside some savings and still buy his wife new clothes. He could hold up his head.

What now? Some on TV talk about the great economy. Yeah, right. Just great. Merry Christmas. And happy New Year to us.

Vignettes

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For a while, my blog posts will be vignettes. None of the people in these vignettes will be one specific person I have known, but I hope the figures represent real people in real situations. My purpose is to invite empathy because lack of empathy opens the door and holds it open for all manner of evils.

At its base, evil means harm, and in the Bible, such is frequently its meaning – harm in contrast with benefit or blessing. Evil can also go deeper, festering into callousness and oozing out as malice. The lust for revenge arises from bitterness nurtured in a darkness of the soul.

Self-righteous judgment excuses, justifies (falsely), and even sanctifies evil. We tell ourselves it is right to hate “them” because “they” deserve our scorn. We label them disgusting or simply push them out of our empathic range as something other, something lesser, than we are. They are alien, strange, threatening, and unworthy, and we don’t want to understand them or feel any sympathy for them.

Empathy opens the door and holds it open for compassion. Then it is possible that someone who has been scorned can look into the eyes of an enemy and see there a friend. Then maybe we can find the humanity we have refused to share.

Pretending to be Asleep

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Pretending to be asleep, a girl lies in her bed dreading the sound of her door opening. If only, he will not come for her tonight. One night at a time, she hopes her father will fall asleep before thinking of her small body. Should she pray? Does God care?

After years of dread, terror, shame, and self-disgust, she feels something new stirring inside her: rage. Just last night, she realized her father did not open her door because he had gone to her younger sister’s room instead. No! She cannot, will not, allow him to do to her sister what he has done to her. She must tell someone, but who? What adult can she tell who will believe her but not blame her? Will her mother help now, but why now and not until now? What would her minister say if she were to tell him one his Sunday school teachers was doing what he did to her? If she tells, will life in their home get better or worse? Will her father just deny everything and try to make her look crazy or evil? Will her mother hate her?

In the darkness, she hears sounds all too familiar. He has gone to her sister’s room again. Against her will, she wishes he had come to her room instead.

But if either girl gets pregnant, the family must blame the helpless girl, accuse her of being with some boy, and insist she must have the baby in isolated shame. Because the conception will be, of course, God’s will. If only God, she thinks, would die and go away. Then she hates herself for such a terrible thought.

Hail Caesar!

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[8th and final post in a series on abuses of the Bible in the service of power]

[For the first post in the series, click here.]

In his letter to the Christians in Rome, the apostle Paul makes the following statements.

For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace. (Romans 6:14 NRSV)

But now we are discharged from the law, dead to that which held us captive, so that we are slaves not under the old written code but in the new life of the Spirit. (Romans 7:6 NRSV)

For Christ is the end of the law so that there may be righteousness for everyone who believes. (Romans 10:4 NRSV)

What might a Roman official think of such statements? Hopefully, the Christians reading Paul’s letter will understand that Paul is speaking of God’s Torah as he, a former Pharisee, understands it. He writes repeatedly in this letter that the law of God itself is good but he himself is not good and so cannot keep the law. Instead, for all his efforts to keep the commandments, he stands condemned under the law.

Paul’s arguments require understanding of his struggle to please God and his persistent failure (see Romans chapter 7). But, again I ask, what might a Roman official make of the declarations, “. . . since you are not under the law . . . ,” “But now we are discharged from the law . . . .” and, most dangerous of all, “Christ is the end of the law . . . .”? Do those statements apply to Roman law? Are these Christians, then, scofflaws, rebels, outlaws? After all, their leader, their avowed Lord and Savior, was executed by Rome as a supposed rebel against the empire.

There is danger in Paul’s distinction between law and grace, two-fold danger. Yes, Roman officials might grow suspicious of this new religious movement, but some Christians themselves might misunderstand Paul as declaring them free of obligation to Roman civil laws.

So, Paul writes the now infamously abused paragraph we find in Romans 13:1-7. The very first sentence declares the apostle’s message to believers and government officials alike:

Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God. (Romans 13:1 NRSV)

There it is, the Bible quote people pull out when they want to support a particular “ruler” and raise that individual above criticism. Here we are, back to the notion of “king by the grace of God” (see my earlier post on that subject here). In the misuse of Romans 13:1-7, we find false biblical support for the latest “anointed one” of some political movement tending toward totalitarianism. Here is the attempted elevation of a Henry VIII above all other authority. Here is fraudulent support for the deified or nearly deified dictator, from “Hail Caesar!” to “Heil Hitler!” Supposedly to question the dictator is to question God, to oppose the dictator is to rebel against God, and to reject the dictator is to reject God and God’s will for the nation.

In both the Old Testament and New Testament, there is much that contradicts such an interpretation or Romans 13:1-7. Leaders that fail to make justice happen for the poor and vulnerable are condemned and rejected. Particularly in the book of Revelation, the Roman emperors themselves are declared evil servants, not of God, but of Satan. Paul’s hopeful statement, “For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad” in verse 3 proves at many points in history to be mere wishful thinking, although it truly is more because its declaration of what authorities should do turns into judgment upon those authorities who do not measure up.

Paul is not freeing Christians from civil authority and secular law, but he does set a standard for that authority and its laws. Authority’s charge from God, whether the officials know it or not, is to uphold and shelter what is good and to oppose and punish what is bad. But what happens when the authority itself does what is evil? When good behavior is punished and bad rewarded? Does God support corruption, brutality against the vulnerable, and lawlessness on the part of the authorities themselves? The Bible as a whole overwhelmingly declares, “No!”

Now, let’s take a step back and survey our own situation in the United States of America. To form this nation, our ancestors rebelled against a “king by the grace of God” they came to regard as a tyrant. Since then, authority for this nation is lodged, not in any person or small group, but in us, the American people. “We the people” are together the authority Paul declares has been appointed by God to keep order and to reward what is good and to prevent or punish what is bad. No president has that authority in, by, and for himself. No president can rightly claim or have claimed for him such authorization from Paul’s Letter to the Romans. We the people through our elected representatives are responsible for the maintenance of justice. It is our duty to keep power out of the hands of swindlers and liars. We together stand accountable to God, whether we acknowledge God or not, for cruelties inflicted by our elected officials and their appointees. We are answerable for institutionalized bigotry, persecution, and self-serving greed.

The misuse of Romans 13:1-7 in support of evil, of the tyranny and lawlessness of a president, and of the abuse of power for self-enrichment, is a terrible corruption of scripture. Such an abuse of the Bible opposes God and brings shame and infamy upon the name of Jesus Christ.