SIMPLY written, profoundly moving and convicting, this piece speaks to all of us.
As a writer with a public blog, I’ve become used to getting hate emails. Sure, some people might leave offensive comments on a blog, but the real vitriol gets reserved for emails. From the sick and twisted ones detailing what sexual violence I need done to me to cure me of my feminism to the reminders that I will one day burn in hell because of my association with the emerging church, I’ve become used to the church’s odd way of demonstrating “love” to one’s neighbor. But when I look at the two posts that have far and away garnered me the most hate mail, I find it difficult to not be disturbed and heartbroken for the church.
Last summer my inbox filled up with angry responses to my post recounting the often-ignored history of the slaughter of the Native Americans at the Taos Pueblo (men, women, and children took sanctuary in the church and the U.S. Army burned them alive inside). I was called every name in the book for daring to question the greatness of the U.S. and our right to Manifest Destiny.
Then recently, my post supporting the Cordoba House (the mosque going in near Ground Zero) was linked to at the Cordoba House site to demonstrate that some Christians do support the project. That of course brought on a new wave of hate in my inbox. From those accusing me of supporting the pedophile religion of Satan to those telling me I was mocking the power of Jesus by tolerating Muslims, I witnessed the overwhelming animosity Christians hold toward the other. The words of Jesus to love our neighbor apparently don’t apply if that neighbor looks or believes differently than we do.
Out of everything I have written, that these two posts should elicit such visceral responses demonstrates how deep the issues of racism and prejudice still are in the church today. Oh, churches might give lip service to accepting others and being “colorblind,” but in reality those fears and prejudices run deep. The general message of the white American church is eerily similar to a white person saying “I’m fine with black people; I just don’t want them living next door.” So we are fine with collecting dream catchers and turquoise jewelry and seeing sexy Native American teens running around shirtless as they turn into wolves, but not with listening to their side of the historical story or admitting to our country’s acts of terrorism against their nations. And some even say they are fine with Muslims as long as they don’t put a mosque where we can see it or ask us to engage in reconciliation projects. Stereotypes and prejudices are preferred to the truth, and anger erupts if such positions are questioned or challenged.
Granted, many Christians aren’t even okay with the lip-service tolerance or the “equal as long as they are separate” mentality. Recently Pastors Terry Jones and Wayne Sapp of Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville, FL, declared September 11, 2010, to be International Burn a Koran Day. In a YouTube video (warning — video contains footage of a burning Koran) he tells viewers, “if you call yourself Christian you should be burning the Koran because it is of the devil.” Their blog even lists the top 10 reasons to burn a Koran as if it is some sort of late-night comedy routine (interestingly enough, I’ve heard most of the arguments they list used against the Bible as well).
Similarly, in a recent trip back to Taos, NM, I heard some white Christians discussing how the genocide of the Native American nations was a blessed gift from God to eliminate the satanic influence of their cultures from our “one nation under God.” There are some things that are just so extreme and so absurd that it is hard to believe people are even saying them, much less saying them in the name of Christ. But for many Christians this sort of hatred is at the core of their faith practice. Vengeance and revenge against the other have superseded the commands to love our enemies and to pray for those who persecute us.
The question that plagues me is if the church will ever repent of its allegiance to hate and start following in the way of Christ instead? It seems like the church has embraced a culture of hatred. I used to have a bumper sticker on my car that said “I’m for the Separation of Church and Hate,” but someone found its anti-hate message so offensive that they vandalized it with a marker. On top of that, much of the church has lent its ear to the false prophets who mock the words of Jesus and who command their followers to run from the churches that encourage us to love our neighbor or to set the oppressed free.
When the truth of God has been replaced by these racist and hate-filled lies of our culture, it is hard at times to have hope for the church. When yet another hate email arrives in my inbox questioning my faith because I spoke out against acts of violence and terrorism against non-white American peoples, I have to wonder where Jesus is in the church these days. But even amidst all that darkness there are glimmers of hope. I see the Christians (the National Association of Evangelicals even) asking that the International Koran Burning Day be canceled in the name of Jesus. I see the handful of Christians willing to stand with Muslims as they build the Cordoba House. These are public voices presenting to the world the side of Christianity that isn’t defined by violence and hatred. They may be few, but it is enough to keep believing that the core of Christianity hasn’t been completely corrupted or destroyed.
Sorry for the long silence here. I spent the last week and a half at my parent’s place in Taos, New Mexico with a bunch of friends from our old church in Illinois. It was a great time, but I didn’t have two seconds together to attempt to even open my computer. Since we had friends visiting, we did touristy things all week and I couldn’t help but encounter stories of the history of the place that truly made me think.
It is strange being at places in America where our own sordid history has not been completely hushed up. In most of the country it is easy to forget who we stole the land from, who we enslaved to build initial infrastructure, and who we oppressed on our path to becoming a “great” nation. If those reminders aren’t there before our eyes, we tend to forget they ever happened (and then get accused of being unpatriotic or of outright lying if you even mention the history). But its hard to hide from that history in New Mexico – at least once you make even a vague attempt to open your eyes.
For instance – I attended the Emergent Gathering in Glorieta, NM a couple of times in the past. While I had heard that Glorieta was the site of a major Civil War battle, often called the Gettysburg of the West, I knew little else of its history or culture except for the fact that the Southern Baptists had built a camp there that did its best to pretend New Mexican culture didn’t exist. But this trip, I discovered that it was at the opening of the Glorieta Pass on the Santa Fe trail that the Mexican army made its last stand against the invading U.S. army in 1846. You see, for years U.S. citizens had been settling in Texas (often for the freedom to trade slaves). In 1836, these U.S. Texans declared Texas an independent country and went to war with the current ruler – Mexico. After remembering the Alamo and all that, the Republic of Texas formed. When the U.S. then annexed Texas in 1846 (which at that point included most of New Mexico), Mexico chose not to simply give up the land and leave. This was seen as cause for war and the U.S. invaded to secure the land we stole. General opinion saw it as our right to take the land, with some citing it “Our manifest destiny to overspread the continent allotted by Providence for the free development of our yearly multiplying millions.” A small group of dissenters called this invasion robbery and murder, and Abraham Lincoln asserted “Let us put a check upon this lust of dominion.” But their protest was to no avail. And so the U.S. army met and massacred the Mexican army at Glorieta – claiming the territory for ourselves. It puts things in perspective to know the history of the place – knowing who died so we could use a spiffy retreat center.
Same thing in Taos. One of the oldest continuously lived in pueblos in America is the Taos Pueblo. In 1847, after the U.S. took New Mexico, local Indians and Hispanics were fearful that the U.S. wouldn’t honor their ownership of the land and so staged a rebellion against the U.S. governor in Taos. The governor ended up dead and the U.S. Army moved quickly to quash the revolt. (the Indians actually claim that they had nothing to do with the murder, that the Mexicans set them up). As the U.S. army attacked, many of the pueblo’s residents (the women and children) as well as some of the insurgents took refugee in the Catholic church on the pueblo seeking its protection and sanctuary. The U.S. army burned them alive inside the church. The picture is of the remains of the church that has simply been left in ruins since that day.
I hear those stories and know that even though I am enjoying the benefits of past oppression, I have to at least acknowledge that great evil has been done. But there were others touring the Taos Pueblo I overheard who were offended that the Indians dare tell the story of how the U.S. army massacred their people. They thought it was rude and uncalled for to even bring up such stories. I found it interesting that here I was having no choice but to confront the sins of our collective past, and others around me were trying to silence history. But then I thought, at least they were hearing the stories whether they choose to believe them or not. That’s why I am a huge fan of going to places where that history is in your face. No, its not fun to visit the site of a massacre, or of a firebombing, or the Holocaust Museum, but unless we make that effort we too soon forget that they exist. And from there we quickly start pretending that the evils they remind us of never happened. We need those reminders.
As a writer with a public blog, I’ve become used to getting hate emails. Sure, some people might leave offensive comments on a blog, but the real vitriol gets reserved for emails. From the sick and twisted ones detailing what sexual violence I need done to me to cure me of my feminism to the reminders that I will one day burn in hell because of my association with the emerging church, I’ve become used to the church’s odd way of demonstrating “love” to one’s neighbor. But when I look at the two posts that have far and away garnered me the most hate mail, I find it difficult to not be disturbed and heartbroken for the church.
Last summer my inbox filled up with angry responses to my post recounting the often-ignored history of the slaughter of the Native Americans at the Taos Pueblo (men, women, and children took sanctuary in the church and the U.S. Army burned them alive inside). I was called every name in the book for daring to question the greatness of the U.S. and our right to Manifest Destiny.
Then recently, my post supporting the Cordoba House (the mosque going in near Ground Zero) was linked to at the Cordoba House site to demonstrate that some Christians do support the project. That of course brought on a new wave of hate in my inbox. From those accusing me of supporting the pedophile religion of Satan to those telling me I was mocking the power of Jesus by tolerating Muslims, I witnessed the overwhelming animosity Christians hold toward the other. The words of Jesus to love our neighbor apparently don’t apply if that neighbor looks or believes differently than we do.
Out of everything I have written, that these two posts should elicit such visceral responses demonstrates how deep the issues of racism and prejudice still are in the church today. Oh, churches might give lip service to accepting others and being “colorblind,” but in reality those fears and prejudices run deep. The general message of the white American church is eerily similar to a white person saying “I’m fine with black people; I just don’t want them living next door.” So we are fine with collecting dream catchers and turquoise jewelry and seeing sexy Native American teens running around shirtless as they turn into wolves, but not with listening to their side of the historical story or admitting to our country’s acts of terrorism against their nations. And some even say they are fine with Muslims as long as they don’t put a mosque where we can see it or ask us to engage in reconciliation projects. Stereotypes and prejudices are preferred to the truth, and anger erupts if such positions are questioned or challenged.
Granted, many Christians aren’t even okay with the lip-service tolerance or the “equal as long as they are separate” mentality. Recently Pastors Terry Jones and Wayne Sapp of Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville, FL, declared September 11, 2010, to be International Burn a Koran Day. In a YouTube video (warning — video contains footage of a burning Koran) he tells viewers, “if you call yourself Christian you should be burning the Koran because it is of the devil.” Their blog even lists the top 10 reasons to burn a Koran as if it is some sort of late-night comedy routine (interestingly enough, I’ve heard most of the arguments they list used against the Bible as well).
Similarly, in a recent trip back to Taos, NM, I heard some white Christians discussing how the genocide of the Native American nations was a blessed gift from God to eliminate the satanic influence of their cultures from our “one nation under God.” There are some things that are just so extreme and so absurd that it is hard to believe people are even saying them, much less saying them in the name of Christ. But for many Christians this sort of hatred is at the core of their faith practice. Vengeance and revenge against the other have superseded the commands to love our enemies and to pray for those who persecute us.
The question that plagues me is if the church will ever repent of its allegiance to hate and start following in the way of Christ instead? It seems like the church has embraced a culture of hatred. I used to have a bumper sticker on my car that said “I’m for the Separation of Church and Hate,” but someone found its anti-hate message so offensive that they vandalized it with a marker. On top of that, much of the church has lent its ear to the false prophets who mock the words of Jesus and who command their followers to run from the churches that encourage us to love our neighbor or to set the oppressed free.
When the truth of God has been replaced by these racist and hate-filled lies of our culture, it is hard at times to have hope for the church. When yet another hate email arrives in my inbox questioning my faith because I spoke out against acts of violence and terrorism against non-white American peoples, I have to wonder where Jesus is in the church these days. But even amidst all that darkness there are glimmers of hope. I see the Christians (the National Association of Evangelicals even) asking that the International Koran Burning Day be canceled in the name of Jesus. I see the handful of Christians willing to stand with Muslims as they build the Cordoba House. These are public voices presenting to the world the side of Christianity that isn’t defined by violence and hatred. They may be few, but it is enough to keep believing that the core of Christianity hasn’t been completely corrupted or destroyed.
Remembering History’s Evils
http://julieclawson.com/2009/07/30/remembering-historys-evils/2009 July 30
It is strange being at places in America where our own sordid history has not been completely hushed up. In most of the country it is easy to forget who we stole the land from, who we enslaved to build initial infrastructure, and who we oppressed on our path to becoming a “great” nation. If those reminders aren’t there before our eyes, we tend to forget they ever happened (and then get accused of being unpatriotic or of outright lying if you even mention the history). But its hard to hide from that history in New Mexico – at least once you make even a vague attempt to open your eyes.
For instance – I attended the Emergent Gathering in Glorieta, NM a couple of times in the past. While I had heard that Glorieta was the site of a major Civil War battle, often called the Gettysburg of the West, I knew little else of its history or culture except for the fact that the Southern Baptists had built a camp there that did its best to pretend New Mexican culture didn’t exist. But this trip, I discovered that it was at the opening of the Glorieta Pass on the Santa Fe trail that the Mexican army made its last stand against the invading U.S. army in 1846. You see, for years U.S. citizens had been settling in Texas (often for the freedom to trade slaves). In 1836, these U.S. Texans declared Texas an independent country and went to war with the current ruler – Mexico. After remembering the Alamo and all that, the Republic of Texas formed. When the U.S. then annexed Texas in 1846 (which at that point included most of New Mexico), Mexico chose not to simply give up the land and leave. This was seen as cause for war and the U.S. invaded to secure the land we stole. General opinion saw it as our right to take the land, with some citing it “Our manifest destiny to overspread the continent allotted by Providence for the free development of our yearly multiplying millions.” A small group of dissenters called this invasion robbery and murder, and Abraham Lincoln asserted “Let us put a check upon this lust of dominion.” But their protest was to no avail. And so the U.S. army met and massacred the Mexican army at Glorieta – claiming the territory for ourselves. It puts things in perspective to know the history of the place – knowing who died so we could use a spiffy retreat center.
Same thing in Taos. One of the oldest continuously lived in pueblos in America is the Taos Pueblo. In 1847, after the U.S. took New Mexico, local Indians and Hispanics were fearful that the U.S. wouldn’t honor their ownership of the land and so staged a rebellion against the U.S. governor in Taos. The governor ended up dead and the U.S. Army moved quickly to quash the revolt. (the Indians actually claim that they had nothing to do with the murder, that the Mexicans set them up). As the U.S. army attacked, many of the pueblo’s residents (the women and children) as well as some of the insurgents took refugee in the Catholic church on the pueblo seeking its protection and sanctuary. The U.S. army burned them alive inside the church. The picture is of the remains of the church that has simply been left in ruins since that day.I hear those stories and know that even though I am enjoying the benefits of past oppression, I have to at least acknowledge that great evil has been done. But there were others touring the Taos Pueblo I overheard who were offended that the Indians dare tell the story of how the U.S. army massacred their people. They thought it was rude and uncalled for to even bring up such stories. I found it interesting that here I was having no choice but to confront the sins of our collective past, and others around me were trying to silence history. But then I thought, at least they were hearing the stories whether they choose to believe them or not. That’s why I am a huge fan of going to places where that history is in your face. No, its not fun to visit the site of a massacre, or of a firebombing, or the Holocaust Museum, but unless we make that effort we too soon forget that they exist. And from there we quickly start pretending that the evils they remind us of never happened. We need those reminders.
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