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  • Red Letter

    4 July, 2014

    By Mark and Logan

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    Loosely related to Mark’s post this week.

  • The Body Politick

    2 July, 2014

    By Mark

    On Monday, the Supreme Court of the Freedom States of Freedom ruled on a highly contentious case. Not contentious because of facts, but because of beliefs that have root in non-facts. You know, opinions. The court ruled 5-4 to allow businesses held closely (like the handful of family members that run Hobby Lobby) to deny certain healthcare coverage if it offends their religious sensibilities. Heaven forbid. No, really; HEAVEN FORBIDS IT.

    What we are left with is a stunning new landscape where corporations can have religious identity and individual women are now beholden to those corporate beliefs to navigate their sexual and reproductive healthcare. Now, these are both massive issues that come together in a terrible chaotic mess in this one case. If you want some good summaries of the issue, in case you’re not familiar with the ruling or its possible implications, I invite you to read this comprehensive New York Times piece that covers the issue as well as the majority and dissenting opinions. If you want to hear more about the economic and governmental impact of changing corporate/business law, I encourage you to ask a business professor or a tax lawyer. They could help you more than I. If you want to hear more about the social terror that is forcing women seeking gainful employment to adopt the specific and restrictive religious beliefs of their boss which directly impact their bodies, maybe ask a woman. Like, any woman. I’m no expert on these facets of the case, but what I can speak to is the idea of Christianity that’s supposedly so important to companies like Hobby Lobby. Without these professions of belief, there wouldn’t be a case. So let’s briefly look at how that belief works, and just how Christian it is.

    Well, the Bible Says…

    Stop. No it doesn’t. Whatever you were about to say, there’s a betting chance it’s wrong. Unless you were about to finish with “that we should treat most women as lesser than men by governing their bodies and micromanaging their place in the community” then you’re not about to make the point you think you are. The Bible doesn’t have anything to say about IUDs or the Plan B pill. And why should it, when the science of the day thought everything needed for a baby was in sperm? Remember, women didn’t hold that kind of power for biblical authors.

    "But, but, in Jeremiah…" Nope. Calling story, not a biology lesson. Stop it.

    You know what it does say? “When people who are fighting injure a pregnant woman so that she has a miscarriage but no other injury occurs, then the guilty party will be fined what the woman’s husband demands, as negotiated with the judges.” 1 That’s in our sacred text, so we have to deal with it. This line of thinking doesn’t attribute rights to the fetus or to the woman. It attributes rights to male decision as it regards property. So if we as a society are willing to say that viewing women as property is wrong, we can’t ignore the second piece, which is that what’s going on in a woman’s body is now her business. Jesus doesn’t say anything about it, which makes it even harder for a legitimate follower of Christ to stake his or her moral and social focus on this particular issue. Gotta find something to focus on that’s not laying down all your possessions to follow Christ by helping the poor and caring for your enemies, though, amiright?!

    What’s going on so far doesn’t have much to do with the Bible. Sorry. But because Christianity in America is an extra-biblical activity, maybe one could argue that Christian values as they’ve developed need religious protection, too. So, how much of what Hobby Lobby wants and what the court delivered are Christian, even in a looser sense of the word?


    Christian belief has a lot to do with the body. A LOT. It’s a religion of incarnation and bodily resurrection, and so when someone wants to argue about the body as it applies to Christian religious thinking, there’s more than enough to talk about. The problem is, the religious protections set by the SCOTUS ruling have nothing to do with Christian doctrine.

    There’s some mind-boggling hypocrisy2 at work. For Hobby Lobby and other “pro-life” advocates, the whole point of being against birth control in all or specific forms is a focus on “personhood.” Like, you could be killing a “person” with the Plan B pill (even though there’s no respected evidence to prove anything of the sort; though a young gentleman did try to tell me on Facebook that the Plan B pill stopped fertilized embryos from attaching in fertilized lizards. Don’t say things like that unless you want people to laugh at you. We do lots of things to lab mice, too, without basing medical and social law on them.) And yet the ruling dilutes the meaning of personhood by attributing personal protections to corporations. Biblically speaking, affording a non-human entity human religious identity is idolatrous. The whole reason we matter so much in the first place (in strictly religious terms, that is) is because we’re made in the image of God. We are supposed to be infused with the light of the Divine. Right into our body place!

    What this means is that, without a body, it’s not Christian. Christ is Christ because he’s God incarnate, in a body. And he’s got a lot of groupies because his body defeated death, because it got up and left the tomb. It’s about the body. That’s why music isn’t Christian, there’s no such thing as a Christian novel, and there’s sure as hell no such thing as a Christian business. Though if a business’ entire goal was to make a billion dollars ethically only so it could cash out the stocks, empty the vaults, shutter the windows, and lock the doors before handing over that billion dollars to the poor, I’d at least have to think about it. Call me when that happens.

    That being said, for the religious person all things are religious; your business practices, your artistic expressions, and your relationships are all tied to how you live your life through faith. But that doesn’t make the practices or the fruits of those expressions intrinsically religious. They are born of belief and guided by our bodily actions. The point is, being a Christian means following Christ with your mind, body, and heart. A corporation, by definition, doesn’t have those things. It’s not a person, as much as previous SCOTUS rulings like Citizens United would have you believe. Justice Samuel Alito, writing for the majority, says this:

    "As we will show, Congress provided protection for people like the Hahns and Greens by employing a familiar legal fiction: It included corporations within RFRA’s definition of “persons.” But it is important to keep in mind that the purpose of this fiction is to provide protection for human beings. A corporation is simply a form of organization used by human beings to achieve desired ends. An established body of law specifies the rights and obligations of the people (including shareholders, officers, and employees) who are associated with a corporation in one way or another. When rights, whether constitutional or statutory, are extended to corporations, the purpose is to protect the rights of these people." 3

    That’s some high-class legal BS right there. In any case, as with Citizens United, corporations are viewed as persons, though their structure, identity, and very purpose is analogous to what it means to be a Christian. But if they’re not Christian, what are they? As Logan said to me yesterday,

    “‘Corpus’ means body. But a corporation has no body. Is beholden to no one. It exists for nothing but the accumulation of capital, which is itself formless. A corporation’s only goal is to escape reality through accumulation of wealth (rather than knowledge/gnosis). And the Supreme Court right now calls that a person.”

    It’s Gnosticism, and it flies in the face of incarnation. However hypocritical the basis, that doesn’t mean it can’t be afforded religious protections under the current Religious Freedom Restoration Act as the five justices interpreted it. As Eric Posner, a University of Chicago Law Professor puts it, “My initial reaction is that Alito’s legal argument is stronger, but that the law—as now interpreted—is pretty dumb.”4

    I only partially agree. The law is dumb, and so is the ruling. Especially since the case is founded on a religious objection to an opinion about what certain birth control options do, even when they don’t in fact, and this opinion is fueled by religious belief which calls itself Christian but isn’t. So Hobby Lobby thinks they’re being Christian, the SCOTUS protects their Gnostic identity, and all is right with the world because Jesus wins the sportsball game. Now every Christian business can tell their employees how to love Jesus best (while being productive money-makers, of course). It’s a big win for the economic sector, which is Christian. Hmm? What did you say?

    Dammit, There are Non-Christian Businesses?!

    You’re telling me that a closely-held business of any religion can now use this avenue to impose religious restrictions on their workers (i.e., probably just the women)? I had no idea!

    While many defenders of the recent decision are quick to point out that Hobby Lobby still supports multiple types of contraception while only rejecting four that they believe are abortifacients, that doesn’t mean that another business couldn’t “believe” that all types are abortifacients and that their rejection of such methods should also be protected on the basis of religious freedom with the argument of unreasonable tax burden. As Justice Ginsberg noted in her dissent,

    "Would the exemption the Court holds RFRA demands for employers with religiously grounded objections to the use of certain contraceptives extend to employers with religiously grounded objections to blood transfusions (Jehovah’s Witnesses); antidepressants (Scientologists); medications derived from pigs, including anesthesia, intravenous fluids, and pills coated with gelatin (certain Muslims, Jews, and Hindus); and vaccinations (Christian Scientists, among others)?"5

    Ultimately, this is a decision that does nothing for healthy religious practice in our society and does a whole lot for corporate tax structure. It’s a messy business, and it has nothing to do with Christianity. You know what does have something to do with Christianity? Grace. Grace for those who don’t live lives like you. Grace for those who live life in the body as you do. Grace for those with decisions to make regarding their own health, identity, and beliefs. A truly Christian business, if such a thing could exist, would recognize that first and foremost. Grace lets us participate in incarnation, which means we, each person, must be the caretaker and decision-maker when it comes to bodily decisions. Grace gives us room to question and believe, which means we are not to be kept by another from seeking what is true and best for what we have been blessedly given. And most of all, grace leaves judgement up to the one from whom grace comes.

    Grace and Christian life lived and practiced bodily, daily, looks like loving people even when you don’t want to. Tough. Grace isn’t easy, but it’s not about you. If you’re going to call yourself a Christian, remember this: the love of Christ, freely given to you, is to be freely given to others in the name of Christ. Controlling a woman and what she does with her body, especially in the name of her own health, doesn’t look like that. Hating others and fighting to control them because they believe what I just said isn’t that either. Christianity may be about life, Hobby Lobby, but not the kind you fought for.

    Grace and peace to us all.

    1. Exodus 21:22 

    2. If you want a serious hypocrisy sandwich, check out this article I found out about after I finished this piece. 

    3. pg. 24 

    4. Slate’s Article on Alito’s Argument 

    5. pg. 92 

  • Lots of Things

    27 June, 2014

    By Mark and Logan

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    A theme to begin the week (with Alicia’s guest post, which you should read) and end the week.

  • Superman Takes Public Transit

    25 June, 2014

    By Logan

    I work Saturday mornings at church to prep breakfast the following morning. I take Colfax Ave. into town. There are quicker ways to get to work, but Saturday morning traffic is light and it’s a more interesting drive.

    A couple of weeks ago I was making my drive in when something caught my eye. A man stood alone at a bus stop. Facing oncoming traffic, he wore glasses with metal frames and large lenses, blue jeans and a blue t-shirt over a large, round gut. He also wore a cape. That’s what caught my eye.

    As I looked in my rearview mirror after passing him, I saw a red letter “S” emblazoned on a yellow rhombus set against the red field of his cape. Superman.

    I had some shopping to do that morning at Restaurant Depot, about half-way between home and church. I jumped back on Colfax when I finished. Stopping at a light downtown, I absentmindedly watched pedestrians cross the street. And among them, crossing before me, was Superman.

    "Superman takes public transit," I said out loud to myself. The light changed red to green and I shook my head in wonder as the man of steel marched toward Denver Comic Con.

    Maybe it’s misplaced, but I have great affinity for this man. Think of the simple courage it took to walk out the door that morning. He didn’t change when he arrived at the convention. No, he strode to the bus stop and waited. He paid his fare and sat among others while dressed as the last son of Krypton. He walked through downtown Denver to spend a day—his day—as an icon of all good things humanity can aspire to be.

    I hope his day was great.

  • Just Give Me a Little Time

    23 June, 2014

    By Alicia

    The following is a guest post by our friend Alicia. She’s a great supporter of the Beard and a hell of a good writer. She sent me this essay and I said, “I’m going to post this on the Beard you can’t stop me I’m my own person so there.” She said, “Okay.” Here she brings to light a truth of her own that I know Mark and I have struggled with as well. I hope you enjoy it. Please also check out her very own Tumblr and her amazing Etsy shop for super cool nerds. Logan out.

    I begin this essay with a very unorthodox request. Go easy on me, dear reader. This is the first piece of non-fiction I have even attempted to write since being graduated from Vanderbilt University with a Masters of Theological Studies in May of 2011. I have been, since that time, too afraid to write. I set my brain to auto-pilot and just moved through the days, weeks, months, and years like an automaton. For months, I refused to read. And when I did pick up a book in the fall of 2012, it was empty pulp. It didn’t challenge. It didn’t excite. It didn’t set the gears in motion once again. But perhaps I should explain. I should explain how I got to such a place.

    I knew I wanted to be a college professor when I was fifteen years old. Looking back, I acknowledge that I did not have a thorough grasp of what a college professor had to do to earn that title, much less keep it. However, I had an idea, a vision, in my head. And it was so clear and so vibrant that when I went off to college and told any professor who would listen, they saw it too. My dream was met with nothing but unwavering encouragement and support. Professors in both my English and Religious Studies department applauded me and pointed to me as an example of a diligent future academic who would one day join their ranks. Acceptance into a top PhD program with stipends and teaching fellowships was within my reach, they said. Like a low-hanging fruit, all I had to do was reach out my hand.

    So, with these words in my head, a bachelor’s degree and magna cum laude in my pocket, I marched off to graduate school with one goal. I was to attain a Masters of Divinity, parley that into a comfy placement at the University of Virginia in their Comparative Literature program with religion and literature as a focus. Onwards and upwards. I was going to be a new fish in a bigger pond. And I was going to do great!

    And I did do great, for a little while. I remember how hopeful my entire cohort was. We all had big plans, many of which manifested as doctoral studies in one area of another. And then, in time, we began to talk to the second and third years, the teaching fellows, students trudging through the mire of comps and dissertation reviews. I was introduced to an alternate reality. A reality where one B was enough to toss you from any waiting list and funding was a mirage that floated in the midst of endless desert. I was told that the life of a college professor, my ideal, was a figment of my imagination. What remained was a husk of what I had created for myself. And then I made a B+ in Greek. It was all over for me.

    By my second year, I was struggling with the church-centered demands of a Masters of Divinity. My goal was growing hazy so distant had it become. I found myself looking at my course schedule and hating what I saw, dreading the projects and papers, the work and reading to come. ‘All for what?’ I asked to the darkness of my room only to be met silence. I had my answer.

    The following year I walked across the altar in the church where our commencement took place, I felt comfortably numb. I told myself, and others, that I would take a year off to work. I needed a break. I deserved a break, right? As I took that final step through the huge wooden doors, I looked down at the faux-leather rectangle. I saw the seal, Cornelius Vanderbilt’s austere profile etched in gold, glittering in the May sun. I opened it and looked down at my name, my title; all that time and effort for one little piece of paper. I stuffed it under my arm and tore off my regalia. It was time to leave.

    Everyone expects a breakdown to be sudden. ‘Something just snapped,’ people say. But for me, the breakdown was less of an obliteration and more of a slow but steady erosion. I don’t know when it began. But I do know the exact moment that I realized it was complete. I had taken a job as a bank teller back home in my old college town. I continued to tell myself that I was on a break, working, making money, playing it safe and smart. Things would work out. I would get it together eventually. Then an old professor of mine came into the bank. He had taken a keen interest in me and my studies. He offered one on one sessions to prep me for PhD work. He had given me books and taken me to lunch. He tried. God, did he try to help me.

    I saw him walk in. I gasped. “Oh shit!” I muttered. Then I sank to my knees at my window. I bowed my head and closed my eyes so hard that I saw stars. My first thought was, “He can’t see me here.” My first emotion was utter shame. His hope in me, his unabashed encouragement, was too much to bear and I had run away from it like a coward. And now, I literally cowered in front of him. I was disgusted with myself. And when I rose from the ground, I knew. Everything I had built had crumbled and was dust at my feet.

    In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus tells a brief parable about the foolish man who builds his house upon the sand. When the rains come, and they always come, the house falls away “and great was the fall of it.” I had built my house on a foundation of sand. For a long while, I convinced myself that I had been cheated, that I had been lied to. I was allowed to dream and to hope. But it was all a big joke because my dream would only be just that. I used the excuse of the Millennial plight. I kept my wounded ego raw and open, poking it when I felt guilty for my own apathy and complacence. But my foundation was not built upon the great lie told to all Millennials by their loving parents and long-suffering and under-paid teachers.

    No, my foundation was built upon pride. That pride was made manifest in a false sense of perfection. I held myself to a standard of perfection that was purposely unrealistic and unattainable. Since perfection cannot be achieved, even by me, I had a reason for quitting. I had a reason for packing away all my books and refusing to write all the while railing against all the wrongs I’d been dealt. And that was my great lie that I held so firmly in my breast for all those long years. My foundation has fallen away and my house is battered and broken. But I realize now that I have tools at my disposal. I have everything I need to rebuild. Just give me a little time.