Once upon a time...
There was a family that believed in God and called Jesus, “Lord.” They regularly attended church and the Bible was their sacred text. During their time at church the family listened to pastors and Sunday school teachers expound on passages from the Bible and at home they talked together about Bible stories.
One of the family’s favorite Bible stories, in John 14, tells about a conversation that Jesus had with his disciples. In the story, Jesus explains that his Father’s house has many rooms and that he is going there to prepare a place for his followers. This story always led to an imaginative conversation in which the family dreamed about Jesus’ heavenly house. Samantha, twelve years old and two years older than Chloe, would say, “The rooms are enormous and the one with my name on the door is filled with comfy pillows and it has an ice cream Sunday bar!” Chloe would then say, “The room with my name on the door is filled with all of the dolls that I’ve ever wanted and it has its own bathroom with a bathtub so big that an elephant could sleep in it!” This always made the parents laugh. The mom would say, “Your dad and I will be happy just knowing that you’re in the house.” And the dad, usually quiet, would wipe tears from his eyes.
One evening, as the parents were in the girls’ room tucking them into their beds, Chloe asked, “Mom, dad, how can we be sure that we get into Jesus’ house so that we can all be together?” The mom said, “Well that’s very simple, Chloe, all you need to do is to ask Jesus into your heart.” Chloe sighed with relief saying, “We’ve already done that!” To which the mom affirmed, “Yes you have dear. So rest in peace.” At this, the dad noticed that Samantha’s face was wrinkled up, deep in thought. He asked, “Samantha, what are you thinking about?” She said, “What will happen to our cousins and friends and neighbors who don’t ask Jesus into their hearts?” With a very serious and very sad face the mom replied, “Oh Samantha, those people won’t go to heaven.” Chloe, always effervescent, cried out, “Then where will they go when they die?” The mom and dad looked at each other with that knowing look, nodding together in agreement that now was the time. The dad cleared his throat and very quietly spoke, “Honey, anyone who doesn’t trust in Jesus will go to a place called “hell.” “Hell!” Chloe exclaimed. The mom said, “Hell is a dark place. It’s a sad place. And it’s a place that a person goes to forever.”
Ten years later...
The Easter service had been dazzling—the flowering cross, everyone dressed up in their Sunday best, flower arrangements stationed throughout the sanctuary, plentiful as manna, and the sermon in which the pastor declared, “Christ is risen!” as the people enthusiastically responded, “He is risen indeed!”
Back at home the mom placed a roast on the table laden with sparkling juice, green beans, buttered rolls, tossed salad, and cubed potatoes. The three of them took their seats. They held hands and the dad prayed, “God, thank you for this day that remembers Jesus’ resurrection. Thank you that our place in heaven is secure. We ask once again, with our whole hearts, that you would be with Samantha, wherever she is. We miss her being in our lives, so much. We know that she thinks that she is following you. We know that she thinks that she is saving the world by being part of that group. But please. Please help her to see that she’s part of a cult. Help her to see that leaving everything that she knows—her family, her friends, her work, her whole life—is not your desire or your plan. Amen.” At this, the dad, mom, and Chloe looked at each other, shared a pained smile, squeezed each other’s hands, and began to eat their Easter brunch.
Systemic Complicity
The family is convinced that Samantha has lost her way by joining an apocalyptic commune to proclaim that the end of this world is very near and to choose Jesus, or else. But has she really lost her way? Her parents were very clear, remember? “Honey, anyone who doesn’t trust in Jesus will go to a place called hell.” Is it possible that Samantha believes that which she was told about heaven and hell more deeply and more fervently than the people who told her this “truth?” And how about a husband who tells his wife, “Shut up! Listen to me. I’m the head of this house.” Is it possible that he more deeply and fervently believes that which he is told about wives submitting to their husbands in a church where only men speak and lead? Or how about a group of teenagers who mock and jeer at a trans-woman, calling her a “monstrosity” and “ungodly?” Is it possible that they more deeply and fervently believe that which they are told about LGBTQ people and culture in a church where only straight people can serve, become members, and hold leadership positions? Or how about a man who shoots up a mosque and decimates a non-Christian faith community? Is it possible that he believes more deeply and fervently—than even Samantha—that every person who does not trust in Jesus will go to a place called hell, forever?
It is more than possible. Religious extremism is not ex nihilo. Extremism is rooted in the stories that we tell and in the systems in which we participate. If we perpetuate stories and participate in systems that—at their very essence—are gendered, homophobic, or exclusive, then we are culpable when the result is misogynistic, bigoted, or violent behavior. You see, the problem is not him, her, or them. The problem is us because it’s directly related to the religious stories that we tell and to the religious systems in which we participate. Yes, I get it. You would never do such a thing. But to be clear, it isn’t because you are a more descent human being. In most cases it is because you don’t believe in the religious stories or systems that you exist within, as deeply and as fervently as others.
My point here is not to blame. My point here is to rouse realization. Stories and systems give shape to beliefs, values, and behavior. And when we perpetuate stories or participate in systems that are gendered, homophobic, or exclusive, then we are complicit when a person behaves in a way that more deeply and fervently embodies the essence of our stories and systems.
A Bible Problem
A possible retort to this logic could be: “Our stories and systems come from the Bible!” For me, a statement like that raises two questions. First, are gendered, homophobic, and exclusive stories and systems reasonable? Before answering, remember that “reasonable” is an adjective that describes sensible, rational, common sense. With this in mind, is it reasonable to think that men have inherent authority over women? Is it reasonable to think that sexual orientation and attraction is always and only, distinctly gender binary? Is it reasonable to think that billions of people who do not believe in Jesus will go to a place called hell, forever?
It’s possible that your answer may be something like, “Well, if it weren’t for what the Bible says, then these stories and systems may not be reasonable. But the Bible is clear.” And this brings me to a second question, which is, what exactly is the Bible? If you’re reading this reflection and thinking, “If it weren’t for what the Bible says, then these stories and systems may not be reasonable.” then you’re probably a person who thinks of the Bible as inerrant and you very likely attempt to read the Bible literally. However, this is a very modern, very western, very white, and very masculine way of understanding the Bible. For a deeper dive into the Bible take a moment to read this reflection on a more ancient way to think about it. In short, there is a historically supported and theologically sensible way of reading the Bible that invites us to wrestle with scripture, in community with others, with sensitivity to human consciousness, in order to discern goodness for today.
Faithfully reading the Bible does not mean that you must exist in violent story telling and religious systems. Much the opposite, in fact. The Bible leads us to Jesus who invites his followers to subvert stories and systems that harm, entrap, exclude, and dehumanize others, especially the marginalized among us.
Bold Change
As I write this reflection we’re in the midst of a world-wide pandemic and our country is in upheaval over the abhorrent abuse and murder of black men by white men who are in power. And so, we willingly quarantine, we give to organizations making a difference, we vote and write letters to government, and when possible, we march, hold hands, and scream. But as Christians living in this world in 2020, we can do more. We can recognize that our Christian stories and systems have very real impact. We can choose to say “no” to stories and systems that are gendered, homophobic, and exclusive. We can demand better from our Christian leaders and if they won’t listen, we can take practical steps to ensure that we are no longer complicit in the fruit that their stories and systems yield. Will you join me in choosing bold change?
Here are a few suggestions for how you can practically participate in bold change:
Learn about your church’s structure, dogma, and doctrine.
If your church’s structure, dogma, and doctrine are gendered, homophobic, or exclusive, write a letter to your pastor or board to express your concern and disagreement.
If your pastor or board is unwilling to consider change, talk to others in your community and ask them to write letters to express their concern and disagreement.
If your pastor or board is still unwilling to consider change, then stop giving. No longer support a community’s systemic complicity.
If your pastor or board is still unwilling to consider change, talk to others in your community and ask them to stop giving. Choose together to no longer support a community’s systemic complicity.
If your pastor or board is still unwilling to consider change, find another faith community. A whole host of non-violent, wonderfully inclusive Christian communities exist for you to explore and to join. Here’s a link to a helpful organization that exists to clarify church policies.
Lastly, consider pointing people to this reflection on social media as a way to raise awareness and to encourage honest conversation about the churches we choose to call “home.”