A Sixth Imaginary Conversation with a Real Troll – The Doctrine that Cannot Be Challenged

    “Hey Carter!” came a shout and I knew who it was without turning my head, which was good as I was experiencing a wash of vertigo at the moment. I’d come home from work and took a moment to relax, sitting on the porch with the feral cats who hang out near our house. We feed them and they allow us to pet them. Sometimes. Anyway, I’d spent a few minutes petting and talking to the one we’ve named Sorrow, but he took off. He’s skittish. I would have gone inside myself but, as I said, the vertigo.

    “Hey Carter!” came the shout again.

    “Gunner, it’s been a while. Where’ve you been?” I didn’t really want to speak to him. He’s a bit of a troll, always trying to rile me. Always ready to condemn me. But I try to be patient. I try to put up with him even if I wasn’t feeling right side up.

    “Where’s your American flag?” he asked as he stepped up to the porch. “You’ve got a Palestinian flag, a skull and cross bones pirate flag, and a queer pride flag in your window, but no American flag and I’m just wondering why you hate America so much.

    Yeah. That’s usually how it goes with Gunner. “Patriotism is the doctrine that cannot be challenged, eh Gunner?” I said with my head still between my knees. “As it happens,” I answered him, “my American flag is safely folded and put away in a closet somewhere. I have plans to get it out for flag day.”

    “To put it up?” he grinned. “Excellent. I knew you'd come around eventually." “No,” I said. “Not to display it. To wash it. I’m going to sit on the courthouse lawn with a bucket of soapy water and spend the day washing the flag. I’ve made up a sign to take with me. Stained with Oil. Stained with mud. Stained with War, Stained with Blood. We are not the good guys.”

    His grinned disappeared. “You know, Carter, there are three heavens, but none of them are yours.

    Another wave of vertigo washed over me and I closed my eyes to keep from spinning. It’s the end of the world – alive or dead, doesn’t matter. We’ve got to move fast while national security concerns are still beating. There are opportunists waiting and grasping for exploitational exposure. Which is just another method of murder. Clean and simple kill counts. The lower depths of darkness rule here. It is not enough for the burning fire. Not enough for the burnt offerings. The god of this land is not placated without death. Blow it up. Burn it down. It’s a rigor mortis policy long past its prime. It’s all in the CIA monitoring and redacted FBI files.

    “All the nations,” I said after the vertigo receded. ALL the nations – this means you, this means us – are as nothing before God, Gunner. Nothing. And no American exceptionalism, no rugged individualism, no protestant work ethic will make a damn bit of difference. That flag is nothingness and emptiness.”

    “You’re such a hypocrite, Carter. If you really thought that you wouldn’t have that terrorist Palestinian flag in your window.”

    I nodded slightly – too much motion might have triggered another wave. “You could be right, Gunner. I’m a messy bundle of contrarian contradiction. What can I say?”

    Gunner huffed and waved me off before storming back to his noisy pickup truck and driving away. I watched him roar away.

    Sorrow poked his head out from beneath the porch and meowed at me. “Yeah, buddy. Hang on. I’ll bring out some food for you,” I said as I stood and went inside.

The People of Babylon (If You Know What I Mean)

The people of Babylon (if you know what I mean) were gathered for the spectacle at the Duraplain stadium; it was a beautiful day, without a cloud in the sky.  Beer and popcorn venders roamed the crowds, going up and down upon the aisles to hawk their wares. The announcer addressed the crowd through the PA system, “Welcome loyal fans, and please greet with me the Babylon High School Marching Band and Honor Choir. When you hear the sound of the trumpet, and drums, and sackbut, and zither, and bagpipe, and all the musical ensemble with the choir, stand to your feet, remove your turbans and salute the symbol that your great leader has set before you.”

And when the band began to play the familiar dotted-eighth note, sixteenth note followed by three quarter notes and a half note melody of the hymn To Anacreon in Heaven, all the assembled people of Babylon (if you know what I mean) stood as one, doffed their turbans, and saluted the object of their religious worship. 

And when the final swelling tones of the hymn echoed into the distance, everyone replaced their turbans and solemnly uttered the ritual prayer, “Thank you for your service.”

Everyone but one. 

One jerk. One freak refused to stand, or to salute. This one piece of human trash refused to sing the anthem or to say the prayer. The people of Babylon (if you know what I mean) standing near him began to boo and to jeer. They hissed at him, threw rocks at him. “Go back to the shithole country you came from!” they shouted at him, and, “Burn in hell, you eunuch!”

Why I Hate America

A friend of mine recently shared on Facebook the purported results of a CNN news poll asking the question: Will you fly the American flag on July 4th?  63% of the respondents said Yes. 33% said No and the response of the other 4% is not described. (I have not investigated the accuracy or veracity of this meme – for the purposes of this post I will accept it as valid.)

In the comments his post gathered, it was suggested that the 33% not planning to fly the Stars and Stripes on July 4th must be Democrats who actually hate America, and want to see it destroyed, and that they should find someplace else to live – preferably somewhere behind President Trump’s yet unbuilt wall.

As it turns out, I am not a Democrat, and neither do I wish to see America destroyed, but I do hate America – or more specifically, I hate the United States of America.

Please allow me to explain.

I could list examples of our nation’s history of slavery and genocide. I could describe or ever expansive, militaristic imperialism. I could cite our racism and class warfare,  but none of the things, as potent as they are, are the real root of my hatred. I hate the USA because Jesus told me I should.

“Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”  Luke 14:26-27 -  NRSV

I am aware that these verses do not mention the USA specifically, or any nation-state in general. But the principle underlying these words certainly applies. And it’s not really that much of a stretch. We speak of Fatherland. We speak of Motherland. We speak of Homeland. And I am told by Jesus that I should hate my home.

It will be objected that Jesus didn’t actually mean hate. And it’s true; you can find any number of commentaries to explain that the Aramaic root of the word hate that Jesus uses here actually means, “love less.”  And this understanding is reflected in Matthew’s version of this instruction.

Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.  Matthew 10:37-38  NRSV

But Jesus’ words ,as recorded by Luke, were intended to be coarse, shocking, vulgar even. These instructions cut across the fabric of society, tear a hole in social constructs, then and now. We are supposed to be offended by them and provoked by them. It does us no good to dismiss them as merely examples of Jesus’ sometimes fiery, hyperbolic rhetoric. It is rhetoric, yes,  but we dare not dismiss it.

Those who love their home – their homeland – more than him are not worthy of him. Those who do not hate their homes – their homelands- cannot be his disciples. And so, yes: I hate the USA.

Does this mean that I want to see it destroyed? No. No more than I want my parents, or brothers, or my wife, and children to be killed. The persistently belligerent will demand, “if you hate America, then why don’t you leave?”  But where could I go that I wouldn’t say the same thing?  No nation-state is the kingdom of heaven. No nation-state has my allegiance. Only the kingdom of God – on earth as it is I heaven. .

Pride and Prejudice American Style

We Must Hate Our Country

There’s been a fair amount of hullabaloo about patriotism in the interweb chatter in recent weeks – vigorous, passionate discussion that often veers towards inflammatory argument and angry name calling. Presidential candidate, Donald Trump, has pledged to promote, “pride and patriotism” in schools and to teach respect for the US flag and the pledge of allegiance. Some are vilifying San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick for his choice to not stand during the national anthem, while others are defending his first amendment right to do so. Similarly, some have flamed Olympian Gabby Douglas for not putting her hand over her heart during the national anthem along with her teammates.

One of the lectionary texts for this coming Sunday (September 4, 2016) is relevant and applicable to this discussion. In Luke 14: 25 – 33 Jesus, speaking to the crowds that are following him, gives a series qualifications for those who would be his disciples – or rather, disqualifiers. 

“If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters – yes, even his own life – he cannot be my disciple.” (14: 26 NIV)

“Hate” is a strong word, stringent and inflexible. And, while it should be understood as a form of hyperbolic speaking (Jesus does not want us to HATE our family, but to love them less than we love him. Compare this passage to its parallel in Matthew 10: 37-39 for the same intent, without the over-the-top hyperbole) we cannot soften it so much as to miss the point: every other allegiance should be held lower than our allegiance to him.

You might say, this verse says nothing about patriotism, or pride in our country, or respect for those who have served in the military. But to read this verse (and the verses that immediately follow it) in such a narrow and restrictive way is to soften the hyperbole and to miss the point.

And, I would contend, this verse does apply directly to the issue of patriotism. That word “patriotism” is derived from the Latin word pater – “father.” Patriotism is an emotional attachment, a bond, an allegiance to our father-land.

Those who cannot hate their country cannot be disciples of Jesus.

I Don't Think I Understand how this Meme Is Played

Maybe you’ve seen this meme starting to float around the interwebs – along with the accompanying challenge:

The American Challenge
Many of you have done the Ice bucket challenge. Let’s see how many of you will do the American Challenge! You have 48 hrs to post a pic of yourself with an American flag, a Bible, and a gun or post on your timeline why you do not accept the American Challenge! Let’s show the world that we are PROUD AMERICANS!

I decided to join in the fun, but I don’t think I understand how this meme is played.

(by-the-way: that's a book of Gustavo Gutiérrez's writings...)

Why I Will Not Be Celebrating July 4th

I am currently at camp again – this time with teenage boys.  I’m teaching them the basics of orienteering. But one of my other responsibilities, along with showing them how to use a map, a compass and a GPS unit, is to be the “officer of the day” – which includes calling the campers to attention for the raising and lowering of the flag  - on July the 4^th.  But this I cannot do.

As much as I love fireworks and watermelon – I cannot and do not celebrate July the 4^th.  And I cannot lead the boys, standing at attention with their hands over their hearts, in the pledge of allegiance.   I gave up patriotism several years ago. I do not salute the flag. I do not pledge allegiance to it. 

This is not because I hate America.  I do not burn the flag.  I do not wish “Death to America!”   But I cannot give my unwavering allegiance to this (or any) country.  I may live here, I may participate in our democratic process, I may work for the good of this country in what ways that I can, but I do not belong here.  This country is not my country.

God is not an American; The United States is not the Kingdom of Heaven.  It has seemed to me for some time that many American Christians have been confused on this point.  Perhaps it goes back to those Europeans who came here to establish on this continent a new Zion, eternal city on a hill.   Perhaps it is only our inflated ego and unwarranted sense of American exceptionalism. 

Whatever the cause, many Americans seem to believe that God has some sort of special favor for us because we’re Americans.  “Look how rich and powerful we are,” they tell me.  “This is evidence that God has blessed us.”   I try to remind them that Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, Persia, Greece and Rome were rich and powerful in their day, too, but I am usually ignored.

The Kingdom of heaven, not the United States of America, is where my allegiance lies. 


We carry in our hearts the true country

And that cannot be stolen

-The Dead Heart - by Midnight Oil