This morning I received an e-mail from my brother Dan notifying me of this week's cover article in Newsweek magazine. This article, entitled "The Global War on Christians in the Muslim World," was written by Ayaan Hirsi Ali, a native of Somalia who immigrated to the Netherlands, subsequently serving for three years in the Dutch parliament before taking her current post as a Research Fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.
Ali provides a convenient summary of her argument right at the start:
We hear so often about Muslims as victims of abuse in the West and combatants in the Arab Spring’s fight against tyranny. But, in fact, a wholly different kind of war is underway—an unrecognized battle costing thousands of lives. Christians are being killed in the Islamic world because of their religion. It is a rising genocide that ought to provoke global alarm.
This article is not for the faint of heart. Indeed, the details Ali presents are chilling. Nevertheless, I heartily recommend this piece to all people with an interest in global events. More specifically, this article should be required reading for comfortable, culturally privileged Western Christians who habitually whinge at every perceived slight or violation of their "rights" in societies where Christianity has historically been the predominant religion.
The main question we Christians should be asking is how to respond to this situation as Christians. I believe this response should take three forms. First, we need to pray for our brothers and sisters in the Muslim world. In an ideal world, this should go without saying. But we don't live in an ideal world, Christian or otherwise. Knowledge of such atrocities should cause us to awaken from our slumber of self-absorption and bring our suffering brothers and sisters before the throne of the merciful and sovereign Lord. I, for one, need to commit myself to this intercessory ministry.
Second, we need not despair, no matter how dire the circumstances. Our Lord himself has promised that "the gates of Hades will not overcome" the church he is building (Matt 16:18). As I have argued (here and here), persecution and suffering are to be expected by Jesus' followers as an entail of inaugurated eschatology—those who embody the values of the already-inaugurated kingdom of God must expect persecution during the tribulation or "messianic woes" unleashed by the crucifixion of the Messiah. Indeed, St. Paul was able to rejoice in his sufferings (Col 1:24) in the knowledge that such were every bit as much the gracious gift of God as the faith through which both he and we are saved (Phil 1:29). Furthermore, history has demonstrated the truth of the observation of the Church Father Tertullian, "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church" (Apologeticum, 50).
Finally, knowledge of the persecution of Christians should cause us to redouble our efforts to promote religious freedom and tolerance throughout the world—not least in our own societies. We must remember that the symbol of authentic Christianity is not the throne, let alone the sword. It is not the bully pulpit, either. It is the cross. We are the followers of the crucified and risen Lord who has, as St. Paul said, allowed us to "fill up what is lacking in Christ's afflictions" (Col 1:24). Religion cannot be coerced, whether through the sword or the external pressure of majority rule via the ballot box. We can apply pressure through whatever legal means are at our disposal to protect our fellow religionists from the persecution they are experiencing. But, as the saying goes, what's good for the goose is good for the gander. We certainly can't expect others, whose model for religious expansion is symbolized by the sword, to recognize religious liberty for others if we aren't willing to extend it, absolutely, to them as well. It is, I suggest, only in a situation when all religions are tolerated and take their place in the public square, that authentic Christianity's message of the cross can show itself to be the unique message of truth I believe it to be.
Having been laid up by a brutal case of the flu the last several days, I had not planned to post today. That plan changed, however, when I came across Scot McKnight's blog in my early morning readings, in which he reintroduced me to the glorious rhetorical and moral power of King's "I Have a Dream" speech of 28 August 1963.
When I was a child, I was perplexed by the negative and, at times, overtly hostile reaction to King by the evangelical Christians with whom I was raised. Of course, I was at that time blissfully unaware of the cultural and theological forces that had contributed to the development of the fundamentalism I assumed to be historic Christianity. In particular, I knew nothing of the fundamentalist-modernist controversy that rocked the American church in the early decades of the 20th century. That controversy not only drove a wedge between the "soterian gospel" of the fundamentalists and the "social gospel" of the "liberals." It also, in my circles, made suspect any theologian, especially from Europe, who did not hold to the "inerrancy" of Scripture, such as Karl Barth, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, or even the more "conservative" G. C. Berkouwer (strangely, the only non-evangelical Christian writer of the period who wasn't thus vilified was C. S. Lewis).
King was no evangelical. He scorned fundamentalists and cast doubt on many tenets of classic Christianity. Moreover, he is known to have had numerous extra-marital affairs. Surely this means we should refrain from listening to him? (oddly, many conservative evangelicals look the other way with regard to Rick Santorum and Newt Gingrich, both Roman Catholic, the latter of whom has a highly checkered sexual and marital history).
I would suggest that we do ourselves a disservice if we fail to listen to him as Christians. For, you see, King's thought, nowhere more apparent than in this speech, resonates with the oft-neglected calls in the Old Testament prophets, not least Amos, for social justice.
Looking back at King from a distance of 44 years, my youthful perplexity has turned into disgust when I consider the rants of such so-called "stalwarts" and "defenders of the faith" as W. A. Criswell and Jerry Falwell against the Civil Rights Movement and for segregation. In a very real sense, such southern "evangelicals"—actually, fundamentalists—hadn't proceeded much beyond the explicitly pro-slavery positions of such 19th-century Presbyterian theologians as Robert Dabney and Charles Hodge. Perhaps, one might suggest, we should show compassion for our Christian forebears, whose sight was clouded by the intellectual and cultural baggage of the age. Well, of course. What I want to suggest is that the same courtesy be extended to Dr. King. Furthermore, if we really believe in the concept of inaugurated eschatology (to be discussed many times in future), we ought do all we can as Christians to implement the priorities and perspectives of God's kingdom in the here-and-now. If we don't, how can we make the claim—apart from an unacceptable dualism—to be working for the kingdom whose consummation we eagerly await?
After that (wholly unintended) long-winded introduction, here is the text of King's speech:
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.” But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating “For Whites Only”. We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.”
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with a new meaning, “My country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring.”
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, “Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”
