The Mad Parson

Bono pushes Medvedev on charity, drinks tea.

Couples that pray together and attend church together are happier.

Cordoba House critics are lying xenophobes! Building the NYC mosque is blasphemy!

Sigh. Here it is the middle of August, and all I really wanted to do was settle down with a six pack of my favorite beverage and watch the mighty, mighty Arsenal kick off the new season. But, oh no. The current heat wave sweeping the globe isn’t just temporal. The argument surrounding the proposed Muslim center started hot and quickly became incendiary.

But I’ve noticed something, as I’ve discussed the issue with my few Muslim friends: None of them has tried to blow me up. Seriously, none of my acquaintances devoted to Allah and Muhammed as his prophet has tried to behead me, stone me, incinerate me, or even so much as chop off my right hand. Crazy, I know. Especially since my other friends probably dream of the chance.

So my guess here is that every single Muslim out there isn’t a bloodthirsty bomb expert lusting to get to his seventy virgins. In fact, I really believe that Islam is so much broader and wider and more diverse than most Americans ever give it credit for. Don’t believe me? Then consider Turkey. Yes, it is incessantly on the verge of radicalizing, the hand wringers tell us daily, but it hasn’t, yet. And heretofore, it has been a strong Muslim democracy, despite its shameful treatment by the European Union. Or consider Indonesia, where radical terrorists are routinely rounded up and jailed. Or Morocco, where libertarian Muslims–libertarian Muslims!–are fighting for the right not to observe Ramadan. Or Canada, the residence of a feminist lesbian Muslim.

A casual read on the Sufis will rob anyone of the notion that Muslims are monolithic. Anything but. Nonetheless, say “Muslim” to the average American mind, and the average American ear leaps to “terrorist”, even though the radicals reportedly represent only one percent of the faith. They are well financed, yes. They are loud, yes. They build bombs, yes. They accurately represent Islam, no.

Enter the Cordoba Initiative, an attempt at building a cultural center two blocks shy of the former World Trade Center which will include a mosque. The media make decent coin off advertising bad news and ignoring the good, and it’s no different with Islam. We get a steady diet of Hizbollah firing rockets into Israel and reports of radicalized American Muslims, so when news comes of such a venture, the context of terrorism is the automatic one.

It’s not inherently the correct one. I think a number of reasons exist to build the cultural center in general and the mosque in particular. The diversity mentioned above is the first. The loudest argument voiced against building the mosque is some variation of the following: It is equal to building a Nazi historical center next to Dachau. Well, no, it’s not. The Nazis were uniform in their desire to be rid of the Jews. Some wanted deportation, some wanted concentration, and some wanted incineration, but they all wanted to be done with Jewry. Islam has nothing close to that sort of uniformity in belief, especially as concerns the Western world. To assert that Islam is uniform in wanting to destroy the West simply flies in the face of all evidence.

“But violence is codified in the Qu’ran!” Sure it is. But it’s also codified in the Old Testament. Every religion, says me, goes through an adolescent phase that revels in conflict. The Hebrews had theirs. The Christians had theirs. The Muslims have had theirs. The radicals want to perpetuate that epoch, but they’ll have as much luck as the Christians did perpetuating the Inquisition. Moving on.

The second reason the mosque should be built is for national security. Yes, I meant to type that. Take a deep breath, dear reader, pick yourself up off the floor, and continue reading the essay. Thank you.

A fundamental recruiting cry for the radical fringe of Islam is that the West is in a war with Islam, and ergo the West must be defeated. To oppose the mosque buttresses that argument in the Muslim world. The burqa ban in France is wrong because it suppresses religious expression, but it’s also just clumsy politics, as it gives the radicals more powder for their guns, so to speak. Allowing the mosque to be built gives the lie to the radical notion that the West is incompatible with Islam–and I dare say I’m not exaggerating to think that many an American Muslim may avoid radicalization as a consequence. As a result, building the mosque may actually help save lives.

A third reason to support the mosque–and I think it may be the best–is that it encourages Western Islam to police itself. I believe all the way down to my Arsenal red and white socks that an overwhelming number of Western Muslims oppose the radical fringe and enjoy the freedoms and opportunities of the West. I think this anecdotally because of the Muslims with whom I’ve discoursed, and I think this theologically based upon what I know of Islam. So if the mosque is built, it will strongly behoove Western Muslims to make it a success. It will be in the best interests of Western Muslims to have an icon of Muslim moderation to which it can point. Should the mosque steer toward radicalization, Western Muslims will quickly grasp that the consequence of that steering will result in greater ostracism for themselves, and they will take the necessary measures to change the trajectory. Since the mosque will stay in the public mind for sometime, the insistence of the Western Islam on keeping it a positive force for moderation and dialogue will weaken the plight of the radicals home and abroad. Such moderation in Western Islam will filter down to non-iconic levels. The benefit could be huge.

Yes, there are still questions. Is the proponent of the Cordoba Initiative a Muslim Brotherhood devotee? I don’t know. Is the money underwriting the project tainted? Maybe. But due diligence will sort those things out. And even if those questions linger over the project, the pros far away the cons. This is an opportunity we are not likely to enjoy again in the near future. Launch a pacific front in the war against terrorism, for once. Build the mosque.

A necessary survival technique.

Awesome.

Dear Congressman Etheridge:

I am a Presbyterian minister who, from 2003 to 2006, served as your former colleague Eva Clayton’s pastor in a cross-racial ministry. While I labored in her district, I lived in yours, and had the pleasure of meeting and/or speaking with you on a number of occasions.

On one occasion in particular, I chaperoned my older daughter’s fourth grade overnight trip to Washington, D.C. Congress was in session during our trip, so after our arrival, I called your office and informed your staff that thirty fourth graders from your district were touring the capital on a school outing. You rearranged your schedule to spend nearly an hour with our group, giving the youngsters a personal tour of the Capitol and answering their manifold questions about government in general and your service in particular. I deeply appreciated, and still do, your altering your day on a moment’s notice to give these children the highlight of their trip. I’m confident it was no small feat.

I write this partially by way of introduction, but more to describe my experience of you as a kind, thoughtful, and dutiful public servant. Political ideologies aside–and ours overlap, by the way–I’ve always thought you to be an upstanding representative and a good man.

Imagine my surprise and alarm, then, at the viral video of you manhandling two persons who were taping their queries of you in regards to your support of the president’s agenda. Like many in the public sphere, I decry the burgeoning of ‘ambush journalism’ made popular by the likes of Michael Moore and Bill O’Reilly. Like many in the public sphere, I sympathize with a public official being accosted on the streets after a long day’s deliberations. I even suspect, like many in the public sphere, that the design of the two persons in question was to generate a melodramatic response.

How unfortunate that they succeeded. For one, you have now given your ideological opponents quarter in their arguments concerning you and your party. At a time when our public discourse needs more ideas and less ideology, you have participated in an event that does the opposite. Your lack of restraint–why not simply walk away?–has unwittingly served to poison the well even more.

But that’s politics. What is truly disturbing to me is your use of violence. The interviewers’ impropriety and your fatigue neither individually nor in concert justify your use of physical violence, Congressman. What you did qualifies as assault and battery, to be truthful, and the fact that you refused to release one person from your grasp even after repeated pleading is even more concerning.

Sufficiently concerning that your heretofore apology isn’t enough. To say that you are “deeply and profoundly sorry” doesn’t meet the action you have perpetrated. Your behavior is not a “poor response” as you called it; it is an act of violence at a time of great tension in our country. To call it anything less is to be dishonest about what you’ve done–not to mention reinforce your critics’ imprecations of you as entitled and irresponsible.

The good news here is that true confession can result in moral standing, specifically because the confessor has realized the awful consequences of her or his actions and can speak to them directly and experientially. Confess what you’ve done, Congressman. Admit openly that the clumsy (and probably staged) interview did not merit anything approximating your violent response. Ask for forgiveness from those you manhandled–regardless of their original motives or the consequences of their unfortunate success.

And after you’ve done so, use your newfound moral standing as a transparent and contrite servant to call for restraint on all sides. Remind us of our democratic privileges and responsibilities in the public sphere. You do not need this humble correspondent to tell you that people are shooting out the windows of BP stations, protesting on the lawns of private citizens, and talking openly of storing weapons in the event of an overreaching government. These are difficult times. You have added to the difficulty. Now use your actions to confess, repent, and begin our trek back to a more productive engagement of both sides.

Yours,
The Rev’d C. Todd Hester

An amazing story on the power of soccer in apartheid South Africa here.

Here is a link to a site that will transpose the current size of the Deepwater Horizon oil slick over your hometown, so you can get an idea of the size.

I don’t have a tattoo. I’m not planning on getting one, but I do toy with the thought from time to time. I always fall on the side of not getting one because the only time I want to pay someone $75 to poke me with a needle so I can walk away feeling better is when my physician gives me the annual flu shot. And I don’t really want to even then. Besides, what am I going to get tattooed on me that will still look halfway decent when I’m eighty and sagging all over?

That being said, I’m fascinated by tattoos. Fascinated by the artwork of it, fascinated by what drives people to get them, fascinated by the culture that surrounds them. I grew up on ’70s classic rock and ’80s heavy metal, so I feel like I have one foot in that society, anyhow. I got hooked early on to TLC’s Miami Ink, and when Kat Von D left and went back to L.A., I consequently got addicted to L.A. Ink.

In truth, I think it’s more than just fascination with subculture to which I don’t belong but easily could. I think I’m drawn to the process and meaning of it: Beyond all the drama between the artists, the show is driven by a client coming in and getting a tattoo. And the draw is that the client always has a story to tell behind the tattoo; there’s always a dead loved one or a conquered addiction or a significant life event or an accomplishment. There’s something the client wants to capture in permanent form on their person.

So the tattoo artist listens while tattooing and usually gives some sort of vague response that would have been wholly acceptable in my counseling classes: “Wow, that must have been tough for you.” “Wow, sober for a year. Congratulations.” “I’m sure the two of you will be very happy together.” And then the client leaves, followed by a little interview with the client in which the client shows off the new tattoo and talks about how relieved/excited/at peace she or he feels.It’s a confession, really. The client comes in and tells her or his story, and gives some sort of form to that story. And then the tattoo artists pronounces some form of absolution, and the client leaves feeling somehow revived. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that on some level, it’s akin to a religious ritual, where someone comes in to tell their story and be relieved of their pain, another someone does something prescribed to facilitate that, and then the facilitator pronounces absolution to the seeker and all is well.

That’s powerful. And it’s what should happen in church, amongst other things. But does it? There’s a level of expectation in these tattoo shows when someone comes in–the tattoo artist wants to hear the story, wants to participate, wants to be a part of that process. Is that what happens in churches when a visitor walks in? Sure, everyone is friendly to the visitor, but I suspect it’s because they want something from the visitor–mainly membership. And here’s why I suspect that: When a visitor comes in, it is in the inclination of a church to say, not “Tell us why you’re here”, but “Let me tell you about our church”. The difference is profound. In addition, there is often an implicit, if not explicit, expectation concerning appearance and behavior. The net result is not that the visitor feels a meaningful level of hospitality–and potential absolution!–but instead a pressure to conform and participate in the congregation’s priorities. In a tattoo parlor, the client is the priority; in the church, the organization is the priority.

I suspect more and more people are visiting churches these days, not because they are churched and simply looking for where they fit in–although that does happen–but because they have some sort of existential need that drives them to a church because they think that need might be filled there. I would agree with them. I believe that existential need is met best in a worshipping community. But they think they will get and what they actually receive are two different things, and that’s why so many never return after an initial visit. What would happen if church members greeted visitors in a similar manner to how tattoo artists greet their clients–with a real desire to hear their story, share their pain, and be a part of the absolution?

I bet you’d have a hard time finding space in the church to fit all those people. And a lot of them would be from the tattoo parlors. . . .