Bear with me — this diary is unlikely to make much sense.
When I was studying and practicing to become a Southern Baptist preacher, I had a recurring nightmare. The dream started at the end of a hymn just before I took the pulpit. I had prepared what I thought was the most important sermon I’d ever written up to that point. In the dream, I was the pastor of a mid-to-large church in the suburbs somewhere. This dream repeated so many times and was so profound to me, I can still see the sanctuary and the people in it.
In this dream, I ascended the two steps to the dais, laid my notecards on the lectern and looked out at the sea of eager faces — waiting for another uplifting, hope inciting message about the Love of Christ and salvation from a sinful nature. And then I snapped.
In this dream I took a deep breath — you know the one you take just before a sigh of resignation. I threw my notes in the air, took a moment to look each and every person in the eye and shouted, “fuck it! All you sons o’ bitches are going to burn in hell. I’m out!” and proceeded to the exit behind me. That’s the point where I always woke up with a start and a gasp, drenched in sweat.
A few days before I was to be licensed to preach — a step that would allow me to be paid as a kind of substitute preacher within my state’s Souther Baptist Association, I quit. I said no goodbyes — I just left and never looked back. I swapped my major and minor in college and earned a degree in psychology with a minor in pastoral ministry.
Years went by and I’ve experienced many things that I cannot explain, things that reinforce some beliefs and deny others. I consider myself something of an expert on Biblical teaching, but not a believer in the mysticalness of it. That is to say, I am fully aware of the “rules” such as they are.
Another significant reason for my departure (and cause for another, slightly different nightmare) is my sexuality. I’m gay. I tried not to be — a really did. I fought and fought until I came to the only logical conclusion: end my own life and hasten the inevitable trip to hell. Obviously, things have changed. My beliefs are a world away from where they’d been in those horrible days. For what it’s worth, I do believe in God, and I do have a relationship (such as it may be) that brings me joy and comfort and peace.
Before I go on, I do not mean to offend or cause anyone to question their own beliefs should they chose not to. I am not here to dispute or argue the tenets of anyone’s faith; but I do no shy from challenging the abuse of them.
Matthew 7:1-2 — For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.
I have heard and delivered numerous sermons from these two sentences. This is on of the two ideals Christ laid out that — by themselves — outline the entire doctrine of Christianity. The other, of course, being the “golden rule:” to love God and others as yourself. These two ideals are linked and inseparable. The one demands the other.
And as the dogma of my former affiliation fades, these two ideals, these tenets, remain steadfastly etched into my ethos. I have tried and tried and tried again to show people what this really means. In the context of Calvinism (and other similar Christian doctrine/dogma), there goes with such judgment a consequence. Christians are indoctrinated to believe in two possible outcomes, based on the plus and minus columns in the Book of Life. That Christ, sitting in the Mercy Seat, presides over the judgement of souls. That what we do in this life determines what is recorded in that Book. That is the evidence with which our soul is weighed.
However, what I noticed over and over again, was that too many so-called Christians fail to understand or accept the laws to which we are held accountable and the standards with which those things are judged.
To put it plainly, you are the judge. We set the standard for ourselves. You see, we’ve heard it many times: what you do to others, you do to yourself. How we treat others is how we treat ourselves. The harshest judgment and penalty is reserved for the harshest judge. If we don’t show mercy, we won’t receive mercy. If we do not forgive, we cannot be forgiven. If we hold others to a high standard, and yet we do not live up to that standard ourselves, the judgement is sure. On the other hand, those who we have judged and condemned are not judged by our standard, but by their own.
I was once excoriated for a sermon on this topic because I’d suggested that in a moment of true repentance, a genocidal dictator could reach the pinnacle of Heaven. That in an instant, that person could cease to judge those they once persecuted — forgive them, so to speak — rather than seek out forgiveness for themselves. “Are you saying Hitler could be in heaven?” many would ask incredulously. “Are you saying King David is not?” — because that is who I was referring to.
Sticky word traps aside, the point is quite simple: love and tolerance are modes of self-preservation.
For me and my metaphysics, this goes a good bit deeper and is a bit more complex — but this is a starting point.
I’m not bringing this up to suggest our foes deserve a pass. On the contrary: they should be judged and measured by the same degree as we would accept willingly for ourselves. To be perfectly honest, just a few minutes after sitting down to write this, I cannot recall what instigated these feelings. Something I was reading in the news or Twitter or here in DK. Maybe that isn’t really important.
Maybe this comes from a place of frustration at the apparent futility of trying to get right-wing zealots to see reason. Perhaps it’s the frustration of hearing assholes spew religious rhetoric — buzz words — that are so out of context as to have no meaning whatsoever. Maybe it comes from the frustration of some on the left being willing to forgive the unrepentant. Who knows? All I can recall is that this diary was about judgement, not forgiveness per se.
Before I felt compelled to write, I was thinking about the writing I see on the wall before me. How the flimsy bridges across our political divide are burning and falling one by one. The things that are unfolding in these moments are not political — politics, like religious is often just a mask for another agenda. The majority of the folks foaming and frothing for violence and insurrection likely couldn’t pass a seventh grade civics quiz (regardless of education, economic station or IQ). This is about power and being weary of powerlessness. Were it about politics, this angry coalition would have something useful to say — not devolve into murderous mobs bent on destruction.
I don’t think I’ve ever believed that the words on judgement in the Bible, particularly the New Testament, were confined to some direction for an afterlife. I’ve thought of them in the present tense. I have said for many years that the words justice, fair and deserve are the domain of God (whatever form or formlessness that might be) and out of reach for humans to comprehend. I say this because of basic psychology. Bias and anger and fear — these prevent the exercise of those words within the confines of their own meanings. This is why I’m adamant in my protest against capital punishment. If it is possible that even one condemned to die is not guilty (or even innocent) of the crimes that convicted them, then the whole practice is flawed and should be abandoned. Otherwise, justice is capricious — which is a contradiction.
I am thinking about republicans demanding forgiveness without any effort toward repentance (or even acknowledging their sins). In reality, what they are asking for is forgiveness and license to continue their bad behavior. They are attacking the weak points of good will. The same faction that relentlessly took Hillary Clinton to task over her decisions regarding the diplomatic compound in Benghazi are demanding the rest of us turn the other cheek and drop holding them accountable.
No. I will not. Judgement is a double-edged sword. To wield it is to risk being cut down with it. Some call it Karma. Well, I do at least. There should be no letting up on the march to hold those accountable who so brazenly attempted the overthrow of our government — who attempted to destroy our nation and replace it with god-knows-what. We have been given the measure with which to judge by the people who require such judgment.
This, too, goes far beyond and before the events on January 6. People are dead and dying because of the selfishness and hatred of others who refuse to do the simplest of things: wear a goddamn mask. Stay home. Stay six feet away from other people. These are not egregious requests that cost anything. Instead, however, we have asshats in prominent leadership positions instigating such recklessness for political and psychotic reward. What happened in the Capitol building, among the very many horrific actions, was also a super-spreader event. I have often said that stupidity is the first crime and ignorance is often fatal.
I don’t have many answers — if I have one at all. My judgment is harsh and were it up to me, unrelenting. “Caught up in the moment” is a wholly inadequate defense. “I didn’t think,” moves me not. There will be collateral deaths and injuries from the raging coronavirus. People who have professed from rooftops that the virus is a hoax will be dead before Easter. People who wouldn’t have thought to protest or believe on wit of “stop the steal,” will be dead before Easter because someone who was incapable of imagination went into a maskless scrum of screaming idiots, spewing contagion as well as hatred and lies.
Maybe what got me on this track was the thought of so many blatant hypocrites on the right who somehow think that they should be judged by a measure other than the one they use. They seem surprised that others wish to treat them as they have treated everyone else. If you profess Christianity as a cover for misdeeds, you are not excused from it being turned against you. If the golden rule is to treat others as you want to be treated, you cannot balk when you get what you asked for.
It appears to me that the same people who infected and corrupted the church have made their way into the legislature. They employ the same double-speak and strained justifications to purvey division and anger and hatred. These are the same tactics perpetrated by the same kind of people I have seen pervert a church into a hate machine. They are cut from the same cloth.
The church has an ancient method to deal with such disrupters. Expulsion. It is the only way. Once the disruptor has appeared, it is important to be swift, before they have an opportunity to infect the church with division. When it is too late, the only other course is splitting the body.
That’s difficult to do in a church. I think it’s not possible to do so with a nation — at least not without destroying the whole thing. So then, in the interest of saving the nation, the response must be harsh and pitiless. This situation requires a ruthless application of consequences.
I wish I could remember what made me want to write this.