What’s in a Name: Learning Advocacy from the Opposition

During the most recent conference of the California Hospice and Palliative Care Association (CHAPCA), much of the discussion centered on the recent success of a group now called “Compassion and Choices.” They were repeatedly referred to as “the most effective advocacy organization ever seen.”

They are advocates. They are effective. And they don’t mind making it clear that they are opposed to the current options available: either curative (seeking to restore the patient to health) or palliative (seeking to relieve the dying patient’s symptoms).

How effective are they? So much so that in a presentation on how to construct policy relative to California’s new law facilitating physician-assisted suicide, the spectrum of attitudes was described at one end as “embracing” the practice of self-administered euthanasia, while the other end of the spectrum was labeled “denial.” Now, most of us can imagine that “embracing” is a good thing. And even outside the ranks of those who work most closely with the dying and bereaved, you may be aware that “denial” is considered inevitable, but only as a temporary measure to buffer the sudden realities of crisis, trauma, or loss.

"The Death of Socrates"
by Jacques-Louis David

How opposed is Compassion and Choices to the status quo? Their six objectives (found here) include pursuing legislative innovations, exerting influence over medical professions, and establishing a litmus test for elected officials in making “aid in dying…a prime motivator in voter decision-making.”

But the most telling of their objectives is to “Normalize accurate, unbiased language throughout the end-of-life discussion (‘aid in dying’ instead of ‘assisted suicide’).” Taking them at their word, the intent here is insidious. While California has become the sixth state to legalize physician-assisted suicide (with legislation pending in at least fifteen others among these United States), the eventual goal is to allow active euthanasia—the proactive intervention by doctors and other in ending the lives of others, which under European health-care practitioners often occurs without the patient’s consent (noted here).

The word “semantics” signifies the art of choosing proper terminology to convey specific meaning. The term also gets used to describe those same talents when being used to obscure and mislead as well. With Compassion and Choices, however, the only word-games of which they could be accused involve being so clear as to be incredible. That is, thinking “I must be reading this wrong” would be a reasonable response to their desire for “accurate, unbiased language.”

A close-up view of Socrates.

You see, part of the argument against physician-assisted suicide is that of “the slippery-slope.” Some worry that if we allow patients to use physician-prescribed medications to end their own lives, it is only a matter of time before we move from describing “who could die, if their life is no longer of sufficient value to them” to prescribing “who should die, if their life is no longer of value to us.” The safeguard written into each state’s laws, so far, is that the patient must self-administer their own death. This is the essence of “assisted suicide,” that the means may be made available, but the final act to end a life should be taken only by the one whose life would be ended.

But the semantics are clear, and Compassion and Choices wants us to stop pretending that they mean anything other than what they say. They seek that we “normalize accurate, unbiased language” to communicate that their goal is something beyond what the current laws allow. Patients should receive “‘aid in dying’ instead of ‘assisted suicide.’”

Not Socrates. But you should still
take a close-up view.

Perhaps, though, the more accurate, unbiased name by which “Compassion and Choices” was previously known might help us understand their origins and intentions. When Derek Humphry, author of the infamous Final Exit (1984) which explored the field made more popular through the exploits of Dr. Jack Kevorkian, founded the organization, it was called “The Hemlock Society.” (The debate and decision to abandon the historic name is described here.)

Referencing as it does the story of Socrates, it might be good to remind ourselves of the Greek philosopher who was condemned to death and forced to drink hemlock, the deadly poison. Thus, as we face the continued efforts of “the most effective advocacy organization ever seen,” the chilling question we must face is this: “who will be making whom drink what?”

Where does this leave the student of effective advocacy? The mixed messages of what was until relatively recently The Hemlock Society, and has since become Compassion and Choices, make it difficult to adopt their strategies, even before issues of integrity, authenticity, and transparency eliminate them from consideration. An organization that promotes as a goal “to mean what they say” would, ironically, need to “say what they mean” just little more clearly, and certainly far more fully.

Otherwise, the only ones likely to drink their poison are those who fail to listen to them as carefully as we should.

Radical Threats Require Radical Responses

I really try to encourage dialogue, especially toward doing theology in community. But I’m finding the current debate tiresome. It’s not just the question about whether to accept or reject Syrian refugees (among others). The assumptions being made and the labels being applied to either side of the discussion quickly begin to obscure and prevent rational dialogue.

Worse, among Christians, one’s position on the issues seems predictably predicated on other decisions to accept or reject one side or the other of a longstanding divide. Though there are many ramifications, at the core of these disputes is whether our particular tradition emphasizes either The Great Commission (e.g., Matthew 28:18-20, among other iterations) or The Great Commandment (Matthew 22:36-40).

So let me ask, can we choose between The Great Commission and The Great Commandment?

Certainly the historic divide in North American Christendom would suggest that we have tried to do so. We tend to focus intently but exclusively on either serving Christ and others through fulfilling “the social gospel” or seeking to save souls by proclaiming the message of “the gospel gospel.”

I am using terms familiar from my own tradition. Others may label the opposing factions differently. But as one among those who major on The Great Commission, let me first explain why we cannot dismiss The Great Commandment. Going into all the world, we are commissioned to make disciples of all the nations—teaching them to observe all that Jesus Christ has commanded us to do. Likewise, for those emphasizing The Great Commandment, the greatest expression of our love for any of our neighbors, the same love we would claim for ourselves, would be an introduction to the God we are called to love “with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.”

Despite this continuing factiousness, I have great hopes for unity in the body of Christ. This is largely because I fail to see why we should ever choose between right words and right actions. Integrity means holding both as one. Both spring from a heart filled with God’s love, guided by His Spirit in right purposes and attitudes, and seeking to bless anyone and everyone.

But there’s the problem. Even twenty centuries ago, Jesus’ efforts to bless “anyone and everyone” raised concerns, questions, and hackles.

Among the questions raised by “love your neighbor” was, of course, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus’ answer was more shocking than we might imagine. Today, “The Good Samaritan” is so ingrained in our culture that we may imagine that Samaritans were generally regarded as good. The opposite is true. They were not just non-Jews, but considered worse than Gentiles. They had been Jews, up until the eighth century B.C. They were called “dogs” long before anyone would have thought of them as household pets. “Mongrels” would be a more accurate translation in our culture. When Jesus commanded His followers to love their enemies, many of those earliest disciples would count Samaritans as well as Romans within that category.

So, as difficult as it is for me to accept the answer to “Who is my neighbor?” I am just as committed to the question “Who is my enemy?” And that causes me even more serious problems. You see, if I am going to claim to be a follower of Jesus Christ, I have to love ISIS (aka ISIL, or Daesh, or Al-Qaeda, or The Taliban). For the sake of theological consistency, I have to believe that suicide bombers are intended to bear the image and likeness of one God, eternally existing in three Persons. Given the United States history I was taught, I also have a healthy respect for the efficacy of terrorism and guerilla warfare in arresting the attention of overwhelmingly dominant world powers. (viz. Colonies v. England, ca. 1776.)

But almost as troubling as the thought of hugging an Islamic extremist wearing an explosive vest is the thought of saying, again, “I have to love ISIS.” When I have said as much from the pulpit, the church foyer conversations have been…well, let’s just say “livelier than usual,” to be sure.

But is there any clearer an enemy? Is there any greater opportunity to demonstrate the radical charity Jesus commands? Can we imagine any better moment in which to live-out what we believe about the overwhelming love of God?

These moments come only rarely. The most recent prior circumstances like these may have been over half a century ago.

In January, 2012, Paul Louis Metzger spoke at the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Service of The Albina Ministerial Alliance held at Allen Temple Christian Methodist Episcopal Church in Portland, Oregon. (You can find the text of his message here.) In his remarks, Dr. Metzger included a quote I have found exceptionally inspirational. I wish I had known of it during my very brief sojourn as a minority amidst an opposing dominant culture.

• To our most bitter opponents we say: ‘We shall match your capacity to inflict suffering by our capacity to endure suffering. We shall meet your physical force with soul force. Do to us what you will, and we shall continue to love you. We cannot in all good conscience obey your unjust laws because noncooperation with evil is as much a moral obligation as is cooperation with good. Throw us in jail and we shall still love you. Bomb our homes and threaten our children, and we shall still love you. Send your hooded perpetrators of violence into our community at the midnight hour and beat us and leave us half dead, and we shall still love you. But be ye assured that we will wear you down by our capacity to suffer. One day we shall win freedom but not only for ourselves. We shall so appeal to your heart and conscience that we shall win you in the process and our victory will be a double victory.’ (found here; accessed on 1/16/12)

Do we see a similar opportunity today? If not, why not? Is it because we question whether Dr. King’s ideals are still valid today? If they are not, is that because we have changed, or because we have not changed? What I mean to ask is this: haven’t we always rejected Dr. King’s message as unrealistically idealistic, practically unsafe, or possibly even unbiblical? The answer depends on who we mean by “we.”

Like Metzger, I am also a member of “the white Evangelical Christian community.” As much as it often pains me to be included with others who misuse the term (Evangelical), I cannot help but be exposed to their position-statements. Regarding Dr. King, the otherness of the Black experience is only one small cleft of the chasm separating his sensibilities from our own. Too, an innate suspicion of “the social gospel” has been so trained into us (again, speaking of Evangelicals) that any action beyond simple proclamation is foreign to us. Add to all this the illusion that the civil rights movement has provided not only equality but mutual respect, and we can live out our fantasy that the world no longer needs such radical, albeit non-violent reordering.

But it is a fantasy, this presumption we make that we live in a mature society where equality has been accomplished. Even for those who refuse to acknowledge the continued exploitation and oppression within our own borders, we cannot deny that our 21^st Century North American luxuries come largely at the expense of others elsewhere. Why do we choose to continue in such delusion? Because we lack certain key elements essential to adopting Dr. King’s message and methods.

Metzger notes Dr. King’s “conviction, courage, and compassion” which “flowed from Jesus’ call to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us (Matthew 5:44).” But this reveals yet another of the dark recesses in that vast chasm between the 1960s civil rights movement and our own dreamworld. We are not persecuted. We are not the minority. We are, in fact, as white Evangelicals (and those who support our vocal oligarchy) participating fully in the dominant culture.

So, how do Dr. King’s words apply to those who are willing to continue to “inflict suffering” rather than risk the possibility of having to endure any of it? We who bomb others’ homes and threaten their children are the ones who apparently fear something far worse than being worn-down by others’ “capacity to suffer.”

Yet that is the operative term: fear.

For many, it is fear that prevents us from showing love to our neighbors, on the grounds that we might inadvertently open the door to our enemies as well. On the local level, for example, showing hospitality to the marginalized in my community might allow some to see and covet and perhaps even steal some of the stuff I value (overly so, to the point of idolatry). At the international level, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, sheltering the homeless, and doing so by accepting refugees might allow some among our enemies to accompany them. The irony of this worry among those who regularly point out how porous our borders are already suggests that we would want ISIS’s opponents among the refugees to be present in even greater number. But discussing that question will have to wait for another opportunity.

For now, our fears demand that the key question be this: What will we do if (or when) our enemies begin to inflict on our soil what we so regularly ignore as it occurs on their own soil? Why doesn’t it matter to us what is done against other people elsewhere (unless, like Parisians, they are sufficiently Western in culture, and white in complexion)?

Such fearful questions suggest an answer, but only one that requires of us the “conviction, courage and compassion” to be followers of Jesus Christ: Love them.

Being Moments from Eternity, Please Take a Moment To Consider Eternity

A dear friend shared this illustration with me. Her comment? “Why is it that something about this makes me sooooo uncomfortable?”

Some might suggest that the discomfort she feels should be identified as conviction. The intent of the illustration, then, would be to suggest that perhaps she is not so eternally secure as she should be. In that case, her discomfort is a sign that she should…what? Re-accept Jesus as her Lord and Savior today?

Two things lead me to reject that explanation. First, I am as convinced of her relationship with Christ as I am of anyone’s beside my own. Second, there’s “sooooo” much more here to be uncomfortable about. Let me first note one issue in particular, then explain why it’s a far bigger problem than you might initially recognize, and finally offer an alternative.

The Point Being Made

We accept that “two wrongs don’t make a right.” But here, I would suggest that two rights do make a wrong. Of course, as with any bumper-sticker and/or t-shirt theology, I realize that the eight words in the second statement imply a great deal beyond what they say. And I do think it would be a very good thing to “Accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior today.” (Accepting, of course, that “accept” suggests believing and following Jesus as His disciple.)

The first statement is also true, mostly. I would object that eternity, arguably, encompasses the time-space continuum—so we are already living eternal life here and now. Still, I think the meaning is clear enough. And being who I am (Death Pastor, after all), I heartily recommend that you live with the constant possibility of your imminent death. Further, I believe that part of the advance planning for that inevitability (in addition to communicating your health-care directives, outlining your funerary preferences, and writing your will) should be the consideration of where you spend eternity. (Of course, that’s another problem with this illustration. You are going to live forever. It’s just a matter of where and how. But I want to keep my promise to focus on just one of the many issues raised by this illustration.)

So, in the illustration, the point being made is this: You should accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior today, because today might be the last day you get.

The Problem with That Point

Here is my problem with the logic being presented. Christ’s gospel is too often reduced to a simplistic consumer transaction. “You get what you pay for,” and “you deserve what you earn,” are just two ways of expressing what most North Americans believe about life in general. Thus, we tend to think of the gospel as a contract in which we “accept Jesus” as the price of admission to heaven (as envisioned by the pearly gates in the illustration).

As presented, the logic of this illustration is simple and easy to follow. Since your next breath could be your last, you need to make sure you have that admission ticket in your hand, or have added your name to the guest list, or gotten the code for the push-button remote that opens those unmanned gates in the illustration. The emphasis of all this: “sign your contract with Jesus today.”

If that logic makes sense to you, though, I am deeply concerned for your soul.

All that many know of Jesus is that He did something in the past (sinless life, atoning death, validating resurrection, etc.) in order to provide something for us in the future (heaven, eternal life, kingdom reign, etc.). But far from that limited view of God’s obligation to honor a contract, even if sincerely accepted, there is so much more that Jesus is intending to do in and through your life.

If you accepted Jesus, and are looking forward to heaven, are you engaged in conversation with Him through His word and prayer? Do you recognize the ways in which He is transforming your life to reflect His? Do you experience the deepening compassion for others, and passion for Christ that result from getting to know Him better each day? In short, beyond having “signed a contract,” do you have a living, breathing relationship with God through Christ?

If not, you might still be saved. You might sincerely have obligated God to admit you into heaven on the basis of having once prayed “the sinner’s prayer.” But if that were all you had experienced of Jesus Christ, there would be so much more you would be missing.

The Alternative to Eternal Fire Insurance

The concept of “salvation as fire insurance” is at the heart of many gospel presentations. Even great philosophers can tend to replace the idea of a relationship with God through Christ with something resembling a convenience store purchase, or a brief trip to the casino. What is called “Pascal’s Wager” (after Blaise Pascal, 17th Century French philosopher, mathematician, and physicist) is simplified to portray our “bet” that God exists. As our wager, we give up certain aspects of our finite existence (sins, usually) in anticipation of infinite gains. “If we are wrong, then we have lost little. If we are right, we have gained immeasurably.”

But it is not just our sins that Jesus calls us to surrender. And it is not merely heaven that He promises in return.

In short, as human persons we were created to bear the image and likeness of our Creator—one God eternally existing in a community of three persons. The vital experience of that image in us was broken through our decision to sin. We decided to do something other than what God designed us to do, which was to enjoy life in His presence. Through Christ, however, there is the means of restoring and repairing our relationship with God, and thus with other human persons as well. Our relationships with one another can better reflect the relationships of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—relationships of intimate fellowship, harmony, and cooperation.

So, why should you choose to follow Jesus Christ as your Savior and Lord today? Because today is the soonest you can begin to cooperate in the process of repairing and restoring (and representing to others) the life you were always intended to have. And today is also the soonest you can begin to cooperate in the process of repairing and restoring the relationships among other human persons that we were all intended to enjoy in His presence.

If you’re waiting for that to begin in heaven, then you’re at least missing out on what Jesus wants you to be, and have, and live today. So, yes—do not wait to “sign the contract.” But instead, enter into the conversation with Him. Today.

Funston’s Firefighting and Christian Conflagrations: A Parallel?

Gen. Frederick Funston

Thirteenth Avenue in San Francisco does not exist. At least, there is no street by that name. Between Twelfth and Fourteenth you will find Funston Avenue where the unluckiest number is replaced with a name that some consider to be far unluckier.

During the cataclysmic fire that followed the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake, in order to extinguish the blaze, the commander of the U.S. Army post at the Presidio sought to rob the advancing flames of combustibles in their path. General Frederick Funston’s orders to use explosives to create a firebreak resulted in smoldering and flaming materials being scattered ahead of the fire lines, igniting still more fires. While Funston was initially hailed a hero for his decisive actions (in addition to his questionable firefighting techniques, other unforeseen side-effects allegedly included the deaths of innocent residents when “shoot-on-sight” orders were issued to prevent looting), later evaluations were not so charitable. Thus, renaming Thirteenth Avenue has been seen as either signifying an improvement or irony, largely depending upon which view one takes of General Funston.

This all came to mind as I was reading a post by Paul Louis Metzger that describes a variety of firefighting techniques, building an analogy to conflict resolution and its myriad strategies and tactics. Dr. Metzger compiles them into three categories when he writes, “some situations call for starting conflicts, some call for containing conflicts, while others call for putting out conflicts.” (His post can be found here.)

Some who follow my blog know of the conflicts that continue to smolder at my alma mater and former employer. Those embers that have long been smoldering, occasionally erupted, and have at times explosively removed those whose passions were seen as fuel to be eliminated, or whose talents and contributions were seen as expendable, or both.

How can it be easier to unite under this banner...

Among those overheated exchanges, several attempts at conflict resolution and relational reconciliation failed to rally cooperation due to disagreements over the purposes and priorities of those who sought to establish what the outcome would be, before seeking to engage in the dialogue that would lead to it. Dr. Metzger writes, “The purpose of generating such unease and conflict should always be redemptive.” But the priority of removing those who fail to fall into line with the dominant narrative seems to contradict any claims to resolution and reconciliation.

It is not just at the rarified altitudes of academics and administrators where these conflicts are so decisively ended. At this writing, two more church buildings in my area stand vacant. Both on the main highway that connects Redding to the northeastern California town of Alturas. Both were victims of conflicts that were certainly brought to someone’s conclusion, though not to a resulting cooperation and collaboration.

...than under this one?

Where Dr. Metzger’s point is to encourage “inter-religious or inter-faith dialogue,” he offers the example of a beloved friend who saw the conflicting values and beliefs, “but probed them critically and charitably to cultivate understanding to reduce conflict wherever possible and build trust as neighbors and friends.” It was my privilege to meet Dr. Metzger’s friend on two occasions. First, during an inter-faith gathering of students from Multnomah Biblical Seminary, George Fox University, and our hosts for the event—The Dharma Rain Zen Buddhist Center. The second event was the dedication of their new facilities just over a year later. Abbot Kyogen Carlson, a Zen Buddhist priest, fostered dialogue and sought to resolve conflicts, just as Dr. Metzger does. But where they have sought to do so, and have done so successfully among very different groups of adherents, the means to such ends seem to be beyond the grasp of those who, theoretically, serve the same Christ within similar Christian traditions, or even, as is the case with Simpson University, within the same faculty, staff, and administration who assent to the same doctrinal statement of the same denomination.

I do not mean to downplay the severity of the conflicts that some of us have endured. But I do mean to question how it is that those who share an allegiance to Christ can so easily disregard our allegiance to one another, especially when some who hold mutually-exclusive beliefs find ways to resolve conflict, reconcile relationships, and actively cooperate and collaborate toward mutually-beneficial ends.

Perhaps the first step for us as Christians, toward bringing our conflicts into clearer resolution and reconciling our relationships with one another, might be to swear-off General Funston’s strategies.

Stop blowing things up; and stop shooting anyone who’s not in our uniform.