(RNS)—Last week, attorneys for a man considered to be “one of the most mentally ill prisoners in Texas history”—sought a stay of his execution.

While the crimes Andre Thomas committed are horrific, his case is not a typical death penalty case. It is marked by failures for Thomas and for his victims from the beginning of Thomas’ difficult life to its appointed end.

In 2004, Thomas murdered and mutilated his estranged wife Laura Boren; their son Andre; and her infant daughter Leyha Hughes, before stabbing himself in the chest.

When the attempt to kill himself failed, he turned himself in to the police. He told authorities he committed these acts to slay the demons voices told him were inside his loved ones. While in jail a few days later, he removed his own eye with his bare hand. Following his conviction in one of the killings, he removed his other eye in a similar fashion.

Raised in extreme poverty by an alcoholic mother, Thomas has experienced hallucinations, delusions and suicidal ideations from childhood until today, and his extreme mental illness can hardly be debated.

At trial Thomas was determined to be schizophrenic, but the court invalidated his insanity defense, accepting the argument that his mental condition was caused by voluntary intoxication—in other words, his own fault.

In October, the U.S. Supreme Court rejected Thomas’ claim that race bias played a part in his case’s outcome.

Thomas’ situation is a tragic illustration of how social support systems and then the legal system can fail the most mentally ill and, consequently, those they hurt.

Justice and mental illness

What constitutes justice in a case when someone is suffering such extreme mental illness? What constitutes mercy when someone is so obviously in need of care—help that, had it come earlier in his life, may have resulted in entirely different outcomes for so many people? These are questions Thomas’ case compels us to answer.

If one measure of a society is its treatment of its most vulnerable citizens, then that society should be judged especially by how it responds when those with mental illness commit heinous crimes.

The death penalty has been ruled by the U.S. Supreme Court to be “cruel and unusual punishment”—and therefore a violation of the Eighth Amendment to the Constitution—when the perpetrator lacks the ability to understand their actions and therefore has less moral culpability.

We automatically exempt those of subpar intellectual ability or offenders under a certain age. However, mental illness does not yet automatically protect someone from capital punishment.

The Severe Mental Illness Initiative of the American Bar Association argues those with either severe mental disabilities or illnesses should not be subject to the death penalty.

The ABA states: “This does not mean that defendants with mental illness should be absolved of responsibility for their crime. Rather, if found guilty, they would still be punished and could receive life in prison without parole, but would not be eligible for the death penalty.”

Seldom do justice and mercy take the same form. But some religious leaders and evangelical leaders are pleading for the state to be both just and merciful by giving to Andre Thomas the care he has needed all his life, for the rest of his life.

A letter from evangelical Christian leaders to Texas Gov. Greg Abbott and the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles urges officials not to execute Thomas, but instead to have him spend the remainder of his life in a secure psychiatric prison facility where he can receive the care he truly needs.

“Allowing Mr. Thomas to be executed—in his permanently disabled, mentally incompetent, and vulnerable state,” the letter reads, “would serve no useful purpose other than pure vengeance, which we believe is not something Christians can or should pursue. Not repaying evil for evil (Romans 12:17) and turning the other cheek (Matthew 5:39) mean breaking the cycle of violence.”

Replacing vengeance with mercy

Historically, Americans have cited vengeance—based on a misapplication of the Old Testament’s proportionate justice principle of “an eye for an eye”—as the overwhelming reason for their support for capital punishment, far above serving as justice or as a deterrent.

Yet in recent years, Christians seem to be rethinking not only this justification of the death penalty, but also the punishment itself. While a majority of Americans (60 percent) and even more Protestant Christians (66 percent) continue to support capital punishment, that level of support has dropped as the numbers of executions nationwide continue to decline.

One example of this shift in thinking is expressed by Christian ethicist Matthew Arbo in “The Case Against the Death Penalty” in Cultural Engagement: A Crash Course in Contemporary Issues—a volume I co-edited.

Arbo acknowledges that while the Bible permits capital punishment, “Jesus’ instruction in the Gospel of Matthew 5:38-41 makes clear that retaliatory interpretations of the law are incorrect.”

Rather, Arbo argues, “Jesus implores forbearance and charity, dismissing any reading (of the Jewish law) that justifies vengeance.”

If vengeance as a reason for the death penalty is removed from the equation and the courts look more to factors of justice and deterrence, then it becomes clearer in a case with someone as mentally incapacitated as Andre Thomas that both justice and deterrence might be better served by heeding the plea to give Thomas lifetime imprisonment and psychiatric care.

As troubling and unique as the case of Andre Thomas is, it invites a closer examination of all the factors that play a part in death penalty cases: justice for victims of all kinds, care for the sick and vulnerable, and mercy that fulfills not just the letter of the law but the spirit, too.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Andre Thomas’ execution date was withdrawn March 7.

Karen Swallow Prior is an author and research professor of English and Christianity and culture at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

I live in South Africa, the pariah country for racism-based history. Having just reached 80 years of age, I’ve lived through lots of crazy times and hurt many, especially those who worked under me. I also have lots of time now to wonder about these sorts of things, especially in light of God’s revelation.

First, let me confess to being racist still. Despite recognising some of the hurt of our history, part of me still is racist. I was born again more than 75 years ago and still am learning to follow Jesus. Even so, I have to confess the bias still exists.

So do many other of my inherent biases. I don’t like alcoholics, for example. But there are many much deeper unidentified biases I have, and the fact is only my Lord can help me deal with these biases.

I truly believe all the focus on sexual preferences and racism have got us sidetracked from our Lord’s call to love one another. Racism is just one demonstration of our awful sinfulness—I prefer Paul’s definition of falling short—but it is a rather stark demonstration of exactly that shortcoming.

As believers, we are worse than racists in how we fight with one another over theological nuances. We ignore that, however, and want to define racism. I know I’m beginning to notice how far I fall short of demonstrating the agape love of Jesus to everyone who isn’t me.

A model for understanding difference

In discovering just one of my biases against the majority population in South Africa, George Lodge, retired professor of business administration at the Harvard Business School, introduced me to an interesting model I believe helps explain your political divide in the United States.

He described two strongly divided political-economic ideologies in America. The old one believes the people decide everything. It believes in individual property rights and small government focused on creating equal opportunities for success. The extreme edge believes the best option is no government at all.

The new ideology, perhaps best illustrated today in Singapore, believes a single leader or chieftain knows what is best for everyone. The group is more important than the individual, and what is best for all is what is best, period. Centralised leadership makes the decisions, plans the economy, and distributes the resources.

These two ideologies operate on unexplored assumptions, one of the saddest aspects of which is dialogue becomes horribly distorted. Opponents who may be close to one another on the spectrum assume the other actually is at the opposite and extreme end.

Here is a practical and cultural example of when two ideologies conflict. One key aspect of our differences in South Africa is how we show respect for our superiors, of whatever kind. The custom of white South Africans is never to sit in a senior’s presence without first being offered a seat. The majority, on the other hand, feel looking down on a superior is the ultimate disrespect.

Public differences like this can make working together difficult. In evangelical Christianity, consider some spats over the election-versus-freewill divide. Indeed, Christians can hold unrecognized assumptions about themselves and others. Our differences cause us to use the same words to mean opposite things and often get in the way of our working together.

Our primary call

I suggest we not waste time seeking to define racism. It means different things to every individual. We are called to be like Jesus. We won’t always get it right.

We do need to be much more aware of our inherited biases. Only then can we learn to accept the differences that exist and love one another as Jesus loved us.

We can’t change the world, but Jesus is busy changing us. This most exciting fact right now for me is stated by Paul as being changed from one degree of glory to the next (2 Corinthians 3:18). Surely, focusing on anything less than the glory of God can lead us to miss his plan.

At least you have a mix of peoples in the United States. That presents you with a real opportunity for uncovering all sorts of race-related differences in undisclosed assumptions.

Reg Munro is a member of the Pinelands Baptist Church in Cape Town, South Africa. He was a qualified actuary serving a local insurance company for 35 years. He served on the board of the Cape Town Baptist Seminary for several years. The views expressed are those of the author.

The first time I saw James Putt, applause greeted his million-dollar smile as he slowly stepped out of a bus. Dressed in his customary pajamas and bath robe, he laughingly acknowledged the well-wishers flocked around him.

The oxygen tank he pulled behind proved to be cumbersome, and his breaths were coming in gasps. So, I gently worked my way to him with a wheelchair and eased him into it. James didn’t know me from Adam’s house cat, but he made the correct assumption that I had been appointed as his “counselor.”

At this cancer survivors camp, counselor’s duties varied according to the needs of our “campers.” Basically, we were to care for and help our campers have fun. The weekend went quickly, as getting James where he wanted to be in a timely manner left little time for boredom.

As a hospice chaplain, I started to visit James on a regular basis, and we became fast friends. Health issues kept him from driving. So, I volunteered to haul him anywhere he wanted to go. With careful planning, we soon had a routine going that kept him stable.

Mr. Putt’s character

Like all of us, James hadn’t lived a sinless life, and he readily admitted that. But it didn’t take much hanging around him to see he had turned his back on all that and committed his life to Christ and his saving grace.

While poor health kept him from attending church, it didn’t stop his desire to understand God’s word. There were times when one of the other hospice chaplains or I couldn’t answer a question to his satisfaction. At that point, he would get on the phone to a huge worldwide ministry and run it by them until he had all the information he needed.

When preaching his funeral, I made the remark James likely would be found in heaven chasing the Apostle John around, asking him to explain the Book of Revelation. Make no mistake, James Putt sought the face of God.

This guy had friends everywhere, and it always brought a smile to my face to see how much joy everyone took in seeing him. I often took him to the grocery store. On those times I left him in the car, I would return to see a few people crowded around the passenger window talking to him.

Mr. Putt’s Christmas

Someone had the bright idea of planning a Christmas party without telling James about it. That way, he wouldn’t get his blood pressure up looking forward to it. The look on his face still warms my heart when, instead of just going out to eat, he rolled into a reserved room with about 30 people waiting to hug his neck.

By the time Christmas day rolled around, James had accumulated a sizeable stack of gifts under his tree. This holiday scene, typical for James, reflected the love many felt for him.

After my sons made a shambles of our living room dividing up their loot, I got on the phone to wish James a Merry Christmas. After exchanging the usual holiday greetings, I asked how he felt and if he still had his pantry stocked.

He assured me he had plenty of everything but seemed more out of breath than usual. I detected a subtle sadness in his voice and became a little concerned the holiday pace had caused general fatigue mixed with a touch of depression.

Knowing he likely had no one else checking on him, I asked, “What’s going on?”

It turned out, he hadn’t talked to anyone else that morning. While chatting, I detected a heavy cloud of loneliness in his tone.

About that time, Jesus thumped me on the head and prompted me to ask if James wanted some help opening his presents. James’ voice perked up immediately at the prospect of having some company on Christmas. He all but shouted for us to head his way.

So, head his way we did. My boys made short work of unwrapping his gifts. This left James and his trusty Chihuahua, Chico, nothing more to do than to enjoy a little Christmas spirit.

The spirit of Christmas

By anyone’s standards I am blessed beyond measure at this time in my life. However, there have been several Christmas days with nothing but memories of disappointment and solitude. As is God’s habit, though, he took something bad and turned it into good.

My children never have known a sad Christmas. My wife and I always showered them—and now several grandchildren—with gifts and love, we and continue to do so to this day.

While making sure Jesus always loomed large in their lives, I also wanted my boys and grandchildren to understand Christmas is more about giving than receiving. I routinely include them in assisting those who likely would have nothing if not for their help.

Like with James Putt, things—in whatever form they come—mean little and hold our interest but a short while. What demonstrates the “spirit of Christmas” is the celebration of Christ’s birth while surrounded by loved ones and the time invested in the happiness of others.

Steve Carter has been in Christian ministry more than 50 years as a Sunday school teacher, youth ministry worker, musician, hospice chaplain and Mississippi State Guard chaplain. He lives in Tupelo, Miss., and can be emailed at msroadkill@bellsouth.net. The views expressed are those of the author.

(RNS)—Some years ago, I was teaching T.S. Eliot’s poem “The Waste Land” in a literature survey class, as I always do. On this day, students seemed even more befuddled by this notoriously difficult poem than usual.

After more than an hour of lively and sometimes heated discussion, class ended, and students trickled out. One student who’d been quiet throughout the discussion approached my lectern and said quietly, “I really liked it.”

Surprised (and cheered), I said, “You did?”

“Yes,” he said. “I read it three times.”

This humble sophomore had discovered the requirement and reward of reading this poem well. Published 100 years ago this month, “The Waste Land” remains worthy—perhaps worthier than ever—of being read, reread and reread again.

A complex poem

To be sure, the work is erudite, complex and dense. Eliot included 433 footnotes for a poem that is 434 lines long. The poem alludes to dozens of other writers, literary works, myths, legends and biblical texts. It has snippets written in Latin, Greek, Italian and Sanskrit. “The Waste Land” is not a poem one reads to be lulled to sleep before bed or to feel cozy on a rainy day.

It is a dazzling, dancing text glimmering with genius and truth which, once glimpsed, changes a reader because the words, like the aurora borealis, reveal something about the world otherwise unseen.

One never sees the month of April the same way after reading:

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.

And who today in this polarized, divided, seemingly decaying world would not feel seen when the poet tells us this “heap of broken images” and “these fragments I have shored against my ruins?”

Indeed, the poem’s fragmented, disunified, chaotic structure—confusing to so many readers —is its very point. The very title expresses the modern condition, wrought by the horrors of World War I, its aftermath marked by infertility, abortion, dryness, famine, rape, loveless relationships, failed communication and, of course, death: “I had not thought death had undone so many.”

A modernist poem, “The Waste Land” is not structured the way many of us have been taught to expect in poetry. Indeed, the early 20th century’s modernist movement rejected traditional artistic forms and institutional authorities in favor of innovation, uncertainty and self-conscious experimentation.

Written in free verse, the poem lacks regularity in line lengths, stanzas and rhyme. Rather than speaking in a singular, unified voice, the poem features many voices from a range of social conditions and personal situations.

Yet, despite the desolation and decay laid bare in image after image—“under the brown fog of a winter dawn” where “death had undone so many,” “in rats’ alley” where “the dead men lost their bones,” and the “broken fingernails of dirty hands”—“memory and desire” still exist. So, too, does the “sound of water over a rock,” and an echo of thunder, the foretelling of rain and new life.

A Christocentric poem

The fifth and final section of the poem, titled “What the Thunder Said,” hauntingly alludes to Christ’s post-resurrection appearance on the road to Emmaus in Luke’s Gospel, wondering, “Who is the third who always walks beside you?”

“The Waste Land” was published five years before Eliot converted from the Unitarian religion of his family to trinitarian Christianity. His baptism and confirmation in the Anglican church at the age of 37 shocked many. Fellow modernist and member of the Bloomsbury Group of artists and intellectuals Virginia Woolf, an atheist, was appalled, writing:

“I have had a most shameful and distressing interview with poor dear Tom Eliot, who may be called dead to us all from this day forward. He has become an Anglo-Catholic, believes in God and immortality, and goes to church. I was really shocked. A corpse would seem to me more credible than he is. I mean, there’s something obscene in a living person sitting by the fire and believing in God.”

Yet, to read “The Waste Land” is to encounter a soul in search of meaning, a mind grasping the implications of a world with no God. Like other intellectuals at the time, Eliot had thought art and culture might take God’s place in creating meaning. But he eventually saw the futility of this hope, a recognition powerfully portrayed in “The Waste Land.”

A celebrated poem

In its end-of-year, end-of-century issue reviewing the 20th century, Time named “The Waste Land” the best poem of the century, describing the work this way: “Filled with post-World War I disillusionment and despair, this allusive, fragmented epic became a touchstone of modern sensibility, and its haunting, haunted language sang the passing of old certainties in a century adrift.”

A hundred years after its publication, Eliot’s description of us late moderns is as apt today as it was then: Our communities are fractured, fragmented and overwhelmed, in many ways, including by death—as pandemic statistics bear out

In his reflection on the poem’s centennial anniversary, The Atlantic’s James Parker writes: “The poem’s discontinuities no longer startle us. Rather, they feel like home.”

Yet even before professing faith in Christ, Eliot seemed to grasp intuitively that this world is not our home. “The Waste Land” reminds believers today this world should not feel like home.

In the section of the poem titled “The Burial of the Dead,” one speaker asks,

“‘That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
‘Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?”

As Eliot would come to understand, as do all Christians, the corpse that was Christ has risen. Christ has overcome all death rendered by every waste land. The December birthday “The Waste Land” shares with Christmas foreshadows the Easter to come.

Karen Swallow Prior is an author and research professor of English and Christianity and culture at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

(RNS)—As many as a third of Americans now claim no religious affiliation, and British sociologist Stephen Bullivant has some ideas about why.

In his new book, Nonverts: The Making of Ex-Christian America, Bullivant reflects in often highly entertaining fashion about the trend lines. Although it’s full of statistics, Nonverts remains a lively read for ordinary people—a rare feat in a sea of dry data-driven books.

As a researcher, Bullivant wanted to know why Americans, once considered the exception to the secularization that has happened in Europe and elsewhere, suddenly are losing their religion.

And it is sudden, he notes. “This kind of religious change in a society doesn’t normally happen in the space of 20 or 30 years,” he told Religion News Service in a Zoom interview. “It’s been within the space of one or perhaps two generations that we’ve seen a sudden surge.”

In the 1990s, nonreligion began climbing from its baseline of around 7 percent of the population to what is between three and five times that figure now, depending on the survey. All national surveys show the same rising trendline, but they differ as to the degree.

Bullivant says the majority of this shift is caused by people actively leaving the religion of their childhood—the “nonverts” of the title—not because they were born into nonreligious families, though that trend is coming.

“So, there is a story about why there is this rise of the nones. But to me, the more interesting story is why it didn’t happen earlier,” Bullivant said.

Reasons Americans are leaving churches

Why did this change start not in the 1960s, when American culture was in a state of upheaval, but in the ’90s?

Politics, say other scholars, who see nonreligion as a backlash against the GOP’s “Contract with America” and the rise of the religious right. That’s likely part of it, Bullivant said, pointing to how quickly the American public changed its mind on gay marriage. But he looks to three other developments to help us understand why people are leaving the fold.

End of the Cold War

First, there was the end of the Cold War. For decades, “there was a big threat of ‘godless communism,’” making it hard for anyone with religious doubts to admit to them publicly. The social cost of being considered un-American was just too high, keeping the numbers of religious nones artificially low.

“Then suddenly the Cold War ends, and you have people able to admit to being nonreligious. In fact, by the time the New Atheists rise up in the mid-2000s, it’s no longer people with no religion who are the existential threat, but people with too much religion, especially extremist religion. The New Atheism is really interesting in how it positions itself as patriotic,” Bullivant said.

Internet

A second factor is the sudden appearance of the internet, which made it possible for like-minded people to meet each other.

“If you were brought up in small-town Kansas, you probably weren’t going to find other people who were having religious doubts. The internet opened up those spaces for people to play around with ideas, hang out with other people, and get really deep into various subcultures,” Bullivant said.

The internet has been particularly important for people leaving conservative religions such as evangelical Protestantism or Mormonism. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is actually the first main example Bullivant uses in the book, which is surprising because it’s such a tiny percentage of the population, around 1.5 percent.

Bullivant chose it because it’s a “canary in the coal mine” story—if even the Mormons are starting to bleed members, “that shows what a big issue this is for everyone else.”

The erosion of Mormon attachment, he said, indicates “the breakdown of religious subcultures,” which has been especially profound in places such as Utah and southern Idaho where, in decades past, a person’s entire social and religious life could be spent around members of the LDS church.

The internet chips away at that enclave. “This was important for many of the Mormons I interviewed, who were encountering new things about Mormon history online. But even more than this, they’re starting to hang out with non-Mormons and ex-Mormons, people who are very much in your boat, and that becomes this other world you can inhabit,” Sullivant said.

The rising nones

The third factor sounds like circular logic: The nones are rising because the nones are rising. But human beings are herd creatures, Bullivant explains in the book; we tend to do what our neighbors are doing. With every headline—like the one above—that heralds the seismic shift the nation is experiencing, more people become comfortable being nonreligious.

Bullivant himself bucks the trend. The 38-year-old researcher came from a family with no religion—“I wasn’t baptized, and that’s normal in Britain”—but deviated from that path by slowly coming to Catholicism as a student. He was doing the first of his two doctoral degrees—one in theology, the other in sociology—when he became friends with some Dominicans who would regularly invite him for dinner.

“In order to come to this guest dinner with loads of wine on a Sunday evening, you had to have gone to the Mass beforehand,” he said.

So, he began attending Mass. He was impressed by the people he met, who were bright and kind. It was obvious they lived what they believed and had made great sacrifices in order to become priests.

Eventually, one of those friends offered to baptize him. So, after a three-week research trip to Rome for his dissertation, Bullivant officially joined the Catholic Church. His wife is now also a member, and they are raising their four children as Catholics.

“So, it’s strange. I do a lot of work on people leaving Catholicism. For every person in Britain who is raised nonreligious who becomes Christian, there’s something like 26 people who go the other way.”

It’s a helpful reminder that while social science charts trends that are sweeping and very real, each individual story is complex.

Jana Riess is a senior columnist with Religion News Service focusing on Mormonism and the Latter-day Saints. The views expressed are those of the author.

(RNS)—It’s been 30 years since The Washington Post published an article on Christian televangelists, describing their followers as “largely poor, uneducated and easy to command.”

The pushback was immediate and overwhelming, as thousands flooded the Post’s telephone switchboard, and letters poured in to its editors after Pat Robertson—a Yale Law School alum himself—read the offending passage on his television show, “The 700 Club.”

It was a watershed in journalism that awoke many mainstream outlets to the reality of evangelicals’ demographics and power.

Yet the bias that says churches, mosques and synagogues are filled with people who have a low level of education persists. The common assumption is a formal education, particularly a college degree, is antithetical to religious belonging.

What the data says

Even a cursory look at recent data reveals just the opposite is true: Those who are the most likely to be religiously unaffiliated are those with the lowest levels of formal education. The group most likely to align with a faith tradition? Those who have earned a college degree or more.

The Cooperative Election Study, one of the largest publicly available surveys in the United States, began in 2008. In all 14 years since, those Americans who attained no more than a high school diploma have been more likely to report no religious affiliation than college graduates.

In 2020, 38 percent of those who did not finish high school described their religion as atheist, agnostic or nothing in particular. For those who had completed some graduate school, just 32 percent said they were among those unaffiliated with any religious community, a group known as the “nones.”

This same finding holds true in larger and more granular data sets. The Nationscape survey has a total sample of more than 475,000 respondents and contains large numbers of individuals at every level of education, including nearly 9,000 respondents with a doctoral degree.

Being a none correlates most closely, at 32 percent, with those who have not completed high school. About a quarter of people with a high school diploma or four years of college are nones, and among those with master’s degrees, only a fifth say they have no religious affiliation.

When the distribution of religious traditions is visualized by educational level, this relationship between these two factors becomes clearer. The share of respondents who identify as Christians—Protestant, Catholic or Just Christians—continues to rise, from 61 percent for those with the lowest levels of education to 69 percent of those who have taken some graduate courses.

It’s also noteworthy that the share of atheists and agnostics does not rise with educational levels, either. It’s 8 percent of those with a high school diploma and 9 percent of those with a master’s degree.

The nature of belief

The relationship between educational attainment and religiosity takes a turn, however, when people are asked about the nature of their beliefs. Religion is not just a matter of identifying with a religious tradition, after all. It often involves an actual psychological belief in a higher power.

The General Social Survey asks individuals what they believe about God, offering a range of options, from “I don’t believe in God” to “I know God really exists and I have no doubts about it.”

Among people with no more than a high school degree, 56 percent indicated they were certain about their belief in God, while 7 percent said they didn’t believe in God at all. Those who hold graduate degrees were certain about their belief in God at a much lower rate of 38 percent. The share who didn’t believe in God at all was 10 percent.

Certainty about the existence of a higher power seems to wobble a bit, then, with higher educational attainment, despite an increased likelihood of being connected to a religious tradition.

That finding was replicated in a recent study published in the American Sociological Review that concluded education does seem to move individuals away from moral absolutism to moral relativism. This effect is stronger among those who major in the humanities, the arts, the social sciences or related fields.

This evidence seems to say educated Americans are drawn to the communal aspects religion provides, but may be more ready to question what’s coming from the pulpit. It’s not a surprising result, perhaps, given higher education encourages discussion and debate—and perhaps, too, the urge to belong.

Ryan Burge is an assistant professor of political science at Eastern Illinois University, a pastor in the American Baptist Church and author of The Nones: Where They Came From, Who They Are, and Where They Are Going. The views expressed are those of the author.

Ahead of the Trend is a collaborative effort between Religion News Service and the Association of Religion Data Archives made possible through the support of the John Templeton Foundation.

(RNS)—Last week, in anticipation of Michigan’s upcoming vote on abortion laws in that state, NPR aired a story featuring interviews of abortion patients inside a Detroit abortion clinic.

The report included an audio recording of one of the patients, who was 11 weeks pregnant, undergoing a suction abortion. The story was headed by a warning that some listeners would find the audio disturbing, and indeed many did. Among the most vocal objections were those by conservative news outlets and abortion opponents.

Yet, having been involved in the pro-life movement for years, I was thinking about how much we on the pro-life side have relied on letting people see the reality of abortion. In fact, my own conversion to the pro-life view was the direct result of watching a video of a first-trimester abortion procedure shown via ultrasound.

Pro-lifers have used this video widely over the years in an effort to educate people about abortion and to change their minds. It worked with me.

While the NPR reporter clearly had a different purpose in mind—at one point, she unironically compares the abortion procedure to childbirth—the ultimate effect the story will have on listeners remains to be seen.

Indeed, the facts of the report, particularly the controversial audio of the procedure, lay bare—whether intentionally or not—some very uncomfortable truths. Foremost among these is the woman undergoing the procedure is clearly in distress, moaning throughout.

“I can’t,” she says at one point, in response to the pain. But one of the clinic staff assures her she can.

“This is what hell sounds like,” one pro-life leader later observed. It’s hard to believe anyone who hears it could disagree. Women—and their unborn babies—really do deserve better.

As disturbing as this story is, along with so many others, we must not turn a deaf ear or a blind eye to any kind of suffering or injustice.

Reasons we look away

Hardly a day passes without the news communicating the sights and sounds of people being killed, whether it’s a recording of shots fired on children in the Uvalde classroom, images of bodies tortured and executed in Ukraine, video footage of men chasing down a jogger in a truck and shooting him like an animal, or police body camera footage showing what should have been an uneventful arrest turning into manslaughter—or worse.

In the face of horror after horror, it’s easy to go from overwhelmed to utterly numb.

Nevertheless, we must not look away.

I was asked recently, following a talk I gave on the need for reform in the church, to name a way in which pastors and leaders enable corruption and abuse. My answer was it happens most often simply when people put their heads in the sand.

Sometimes, people do this because the innocence that accompanies ignorance is much more pleasant than the pain that comes from facing ugly truths. Truly, it’s only human not to want to witness the worst in others.

On the other hand, some look away more strategically, as a way to maintain what some would term plausible deniability. Plausible deniability can be a way not to take responsibility for wrongdoing by claiming ignorance of it. Perhaps the most pervasive form of plausible deniability is one of the most subtle: casting doubt on the messenger, whether that messenger is a victim, a witness or a journalist.

I cannot count, for example, the number of times I’ve been told some report of abusive behavior was not believed, because it was made public by “the mainstream media” who are “out to destroy us.” This is just a convenient excuse for looking away.

Sometimes people look away out of a mistaken understanding of what constitutes virtue, telling themselves it’s better not to dwell on sin, or we aren’t our brother’s keeper and ought to mind our own business.

Certainly, there is no joy in glorying in evil, whether that takes the form of enjoying the experience of titillation or of amplifying the outrage.

Yet, putting our heads in the sand rather than confronting evil is negligence. And negligence is not only a vice—sometimes, it’s a crime.

The virtuous course

The virtuous course is to face the truth soberly. Achieving this balance between indulgence and negligence is one we all must wrestle with.

Many people, for instance, have come to me about the new documentary “God Forbid,” which details the sex scandal that led to the removal of Jerry Falwell Jr. as president of Liberty University.

Because I lived and worked in the midst of that controversy as it was unfolding, people have asked me whether I have watched it (I have), or whether I’ve listened to this or that related podcast (I have) or read this news story or another on the situation (I have). I take no pleasure or joy in any of it. Yet, I do feel relief in having the truth revealed.

Along with that relief, however, I feel anger and frustration at those who simply looked away. I’m convinced now by hard experience that much, if not most, evil is protected and prolonged by good people who choose not to see or hear. I’m just as sure, truth be told, I have been one of them.

But we are each other’s keepers, and by God’s grace—as well as by the power of the internet, good journalism and truth tellers everywhere—it is harder and harder for us to look away.

What we do once we face suffering and injustice, of course, remains to be seen.

Karen Swallow Prior is research professor of English and Christianity and Culture at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. The views expressed are those of the author.

(RNS)—Shinto rituals in “Your Name.” Daoist sorcery in “Cardcaptor Sakura.” Chakras in “Naruto.” And oh, that one time Moses parted the Red Sea with a Beyblade in “Beyblade: Metal Fusion.”

Japanese spirituality inspires and permeates much of the manga, anime and video games that have exploded in popularity among Gen Z and Millennial Americans, part of a massive boom in the popularity of East Asian media in recent years.

Gen Z, known for their “borderless” embrace of artistic content from other countries and cultures they encounter online, have flocked to anime in droves.

Springtide Research Institute has been tracking this phenomenon when it comes to Gen Zers’ growing enthusiasm for a variety of unconventional spiritual pathways—what Springtide calls “faith unbundled.”

As a case in point, Springtide’s 2022 “State of Religion & Young People” revealed more young people feel connected to their natural environment (88 percent) than a higher power (72 percent), something Kaitlyn sees a lot in responses to anime and Shinto, especially Studio Ghibli films.

A year ago, Springtide discovered 51 percent of Gen Zers engage with tarot cards or fortune-telling and 58 percent engage in acts of protest as “religious or spiritual practices.”

Now, anime quickly is becoming another spiritual resource for Gen Z, a generation in which 68 percent say they are religious, and 77 percent say they are spiritual (including 60 percent of atheists, agnostics and nones), yet only 42 percent attend religious services more than once a month.

Where spirituality shows up in anime

As an expert on Japanese religion and globalization, Kaitlyn Ugoretz studies the growth of interest in Japanese spirituality on social media. In talking with Gen Z and Millennials in North America who practice a Japanese religion called Shinto, she discovered they often first encounter Shinto through anime.

Different aspects of Shinto as portrayed in anime catch people’s attention. It could be the beautiful and mysterious choreography of a ritual, like the dance of the fire god performed in “Demon Slayer.” Or the awe-inspiring quality of nature and the kami (Shinto gods) who reside there, like the Great Forest Spirit in “Princess Mononoke.” Or it could be an emphasis on positive values such as harmony, connection, gratitude and sincerity, as seen in “Your Name” and “Spirited Away.”

But Shinto is far from the only religion found in anime. In any given episode, viewers may catch a glimpse of Buddhist temples, encounter Hindu deities, learn gnostic philosophy or witness a Catholic exorcism.

One playful and popular title is “Saint Young Men” (2012), an animated film adapted from an ongoing manga (or comic) of the same name, in which Jesus and the Buddha are roommates on holiday in present-day Japan.

Watching anime can lead to spiritual practice or even become a kind of ritual on its own.

In Drawing on Tradition: Manga, Anime and Religion in Contemporary Japan (2012), University of Pennsylvania professor Jolyon Baraka Thomas notes how fans have been inspired to imitate a scene from Studio Ghibli’s “My Neighbor Totoro,” in which several fluffy nature spirits and two young girls perform a “prayer-dance to grow sprouts into a giant tree,” bringing an originally fictional ritual to life.

Kaitlyn’s research shows some Shinto practitioners gravitate toward anime that prominently feature real-world Shinto shrines and rituals, participating in a sort of “virtual pilgrimage.”

Why anime is appealing to young people spiritually

Springtide’s insight into “faith unbundled” isn’t a foreign concept in Japan.

There is a common saying that people in Japan are “born Shinto, marry Christian and die Buddhist.” This maxim reflects the fact people engage with different religious traditions in ways that may overlap and are not mutually exclusive, according to their needs. If we look closely at the way people have approached religion historically and in the present, this is quite common around the world, even in the United States.

Jin Kyu Park, a professor at Seoul Women’s College, finds anime provides American fans with “cultural resource(s) out of which they create their own cultural and spiritual practice.”

The “spiritual seekers” Park interviewed mentioned being “sick and tired” of organized religion and American popular culture. They prefer to use select elements from foreign media, such as anime, that resonate with their interests and values to help build a new “spiritual bubble,” or personalized religious identity.

Similarly, Kaitlyn finds thinking about religion and spirituality through the lens of anime and popular culture helps her students reflect on their own ideas about what “religion” means and what it means to be “religious.” It’s one of the reasons she created her award-winning education YouTube channel “Eat Pray Anime.”

How anime provides spiritual community for young people

Anime also helps young people connect and provides for spiritual community in new ways.

For example, Shinto priests in the United States often attend anime conventions to give lectures and perform rituals attendees can participate in. The women of color behind Religiously Nerdy answer the question through essays and podcasts, “Can Muslims watch anime?”

Christian anime fans, like the Beneath the Tangles team, create content, including blog posts and podcasts, to create a “safe community” in which anime fans can reflect on and share the gospel.

If faith in recent decades has been unbundled, then we can see anime provides resources for all kinds of “rebundling.” While anime’s form and content can influence spiritual practices and identity, shared interest in anime—fandom—helps rebundle spiritual community by creating the potential for forging new kinds of connections and relationships.

Anime might seem to some like mindless cartoons with little substance, but it is chock full of undertones, symbols and explicit references to diverse religious and spiritual traditions billions of people follow.

On top of that, the genre is quickly ascending to become one of the most popular unconventional spaces where Gen Zers are stoking their interest in spiritual content and connectivity.

For those hoping to engage Gen Z on spiritual topics and questions, consider using anime as a jumping-off point.

Josh Packard is executive director of Springtide Research Institute. Kaitlyn Ugoretz is the founder of Eat Pray Anime and an ethnographer of religion, digital media and globalization. The views expressed are those of the authors.

Reggie’s black hoodie complemented his salt and pepper beard. Sitting on stools in the church foyer, I took notes while leaning on a counter. We talked, as old friends do, and discussed our place in God’s overall plan.

Reggie, his face beaming from the memory of when God gave him a ministry, pointed out he saw himself as being unfit for his calling. He soon realized it didn’t matter how he felt about the challenges he faced. With obedience being the only path to follow, this associate pastor went to work doing whatever needed done.

With small and seemingly insignificant actions, Reggie settled immediately into a pattern of lifting the spirits of anyone he encountered. On any given Sunday morning, this man of God will be seen welcoming people to church with sincere encouraging words and a smile the size of Texas.

I also have been blessed with results of steady, small efforts at drawing others closer to Christ. A buddy of mine from work never had been mentored and needed a slow, steady guiding hand.

At the time, my efforts to “show him the way” seemed to be going nowhere fast. But, as is often the case, when I considered giving up on him after about a decade, this usually sarcastic man approached me and sincerely voiced thanks for “sticking with me all these years.”

Life doesn’t get much better than hearing that kind of affirmation. This came on the heels of simply taking a little time to spread God’s love to those who, for whatever reason, needed his touch.

Little things communicate much

Before going to X-ray school, a man I barely knew told me, “You have what it takes to do well in the medical field.”

This guy didn’t know me from Adam, yet his simple encouragement, along with other positive attitudes, led to a successful 35 years as an X-ray tech. This job presented opportunities to bring comfort to suffering people all over the place.

I never made much of a splash on any given day. However, I quickly found the simple things—such as a warm blanket for a “freezing” patient, a cup of coffee for a sleepy husband, or a cookie or two for a fretful child who doesn’t understand why his or her leg hurts—will work wonders.

You’ll spend a little time and maybe a couple bucks to grab a soft drink and a snack, but the reward God gives for displaying his love through our actions is priceless.

Recently, I spoke on the phone with Joel while he was driving a truck to Texas. This friend of mine—and everyone else’s—is a magnificent greeter at church, with his booming voice and iron handshake.

When Joel gives a greeting, it’s obvious he is happy to see you. This is not hard work for him, because by nature he is a very friendly extrovert. But if he just rolled in from New England, he might not feel like greeting the public. Like me, Joel understands that regardless of any mood we might be in, those folks walking up to the door still need to feel welcome in our congregation.

On his assigned Sundays to greet, he will yell to me: “How you doing, Steve? You all right, old timer?”

This always brings a laugh and smile to me. His sincerity and obvious joy while answering God’s call on his life spreads like wildfire and has everyone within earshot grinning.

Little things are part of the plan

Like anyone called to behind the scenes ministries, everyone featured in this writing understands God has specific work and bountiful rewards in place for us. We each have a strong enough personality for something more appreciated. But it is irrelevant if where God places us doesn’t line up with our preferences or comfort zone.

As a drummer, I know of no task more important and less appreciated than percussion instruments in a spirited worship service. While playing my tubs certainly had its trials, I easily held down that spot for about 30 years.

I’m not playing drums in church now. My current assignment lies elsewhere, and it’s a long way from my comfort zone. But it’s where God placed me; so, here I’ll serve.

God is in the best position to put us where we will be the most productive. All he needs is a little cooperation from us. The simple, seemingly insignificant things God asks of us are the bedrock on which our local congregations rest.

Anytime an encouraging word is offered, or an effort is made to lend a helping hand, God’s love is displayed by our actions. It’s the small stuff that makes the difference.

God views the “little things” we do in his name as though we are doing them for him personally. Answer ‘yes’ when asked. God will fill in the blanks.

Steve Carter has been in Christian ministry more than 50 years as a Sunday school teacher, youth ministry worker, musician, hospice chaplain and Mississippi State Guard chaplain. He lives in Tupelo, Miss., and can be emailed at msroadkill@bellsouth.net. The views expressed are those of the author.

EDITOR’S NOTE: The following account is published in honor of Indigenous People’s Day, though the author and his topic are not indigenous to North America. Rather, he is Māori, the Indigenous people of New Zealand, or as Māori call it Aotearoa.

It is not the practice of the Baptist Standard to republish academic papers, complete with footnotes. An exception is made here to preserve the integrity of Renata’s course work as part of a degree in Indigenous theology.

A glossary of Māori terms is provided at the end of the article. “Wh” is pronounced like “f.”

One of the most significant and tragic stories of Aotearoa—New Zealand’s—recent history is the story of the people of Parihaka between the 1860s and 1880s led by Rangatira, Te Whiti o Rongomai and Tohu Kākahi.[1]

As Māori land was being acquired by the British crown and European settlers at a rapid pace with the help of government legislation such as the New Zealand Settlement Act 1863, many Māori from various surrounding iwi were forced to leave their ancestral lands.[2]

Many Māori found refuge and sanctuary in the Taranaki village of Parihaka. While the Māori population was declining significantly due to numerous incoming settlers, land wars, sickness and foreign diseases, Parihaka became one of the largest Māori settlements in the country.[3]

The two chiefs of Parihaka—Te Whiti and Tohu—were well-versed in ancient Māori pūrākau and traditions, as well as “biblical narratives and [they] exampled that in their leadership.”[4]

These rangatira had an infinity with the Old Testament, as they experienced many dreams and visions, and spoke of God’s word similar to that of the Old Testament prophets.[5]

They were believed to have been introduced to the teachings of the gospel through the freed Ngāpuhi slave Minarapa Rangihatuake and eventually were taught further by Methodist missionary J.C. Riemenschneider.[6]

Rangihatuake was among the first Māori to become bearers of the gospel of peace and was a pupil of the well-known “peacemaker” Henry Williams.[7]

Upon Riemenschneider’s first introduction to Te Whiti, he said to him, “I come in peace, bringing God’s word.”

The peacemaking-influenced Te Whiti responded, “We know that word and greet you, in God’s peace.”[8]

Through their great leadership, Te Whiti and Tohu had significant spiritual authority and influence on the people across the west coast region of Aotearoa (New Zealand).

Peacefully resisting the crown

Pākehā thought the people of Parihaka rejected Christianity as they would not practice the Sabbath on Sunday. However, Te Whiti was infused in the Bible, and his kōrero “were filled with scriptural allusions and quotations.”[9]

The various Māori of Parihaka developed a belief, influenced by Te Whiti and Tohu, in which they imagined they could overcome their present suffering by the deliverance of the divine as God’s chosen people.[10]

Across the country, they saw iwi Māori’s violence and war against the British crown had failed, and they developed a peaceful resistance example defined by Te Whiti and Tohu.[11] They insisted that no land was to be sold and any crown and settler encroachment on land would be resisted peacefully and strategically.[12]

Te Whiti and Tohu hoped Māori and Pākehā could live and exist in peace side-by-side, which is why they chose to follow the biblical principle of nonviolent resistance, as opposed to war and bloodshed.[13]

The British crown was not able to get its hands on the land. Instead, it authorized the forced removal of thousands of Parihaka Māori and confiscated their lands.[14]

Colonial troops—1,600 of them—stormed Parihaka and were met with 200 children playing games and chanting mōteatea, all while some of the young Parihaka kōtiro offered the tired troops food and drink.[15] During all of this, the men and women of Parihaka sat peacefully, weapons aside, and resisted any form of violent conflict.

The troops made mass arrests, demolished the peaceful village, and raped some of the Parihaka women.[16] By the beginning of the 1900s, there was great opposition by Taranaki Māori to Christian mission and especially to the Methodist work on the west coast of Aotearoa.[17]

This effective model of peaceful resistance was implemented by Māori all around Aotearoa. Kaumatua Mike Ross mentions the Tainui iwi in 1881, through the Kīngatanga, “laid down its arms and sought to resolve differences through political negotiation with the crown.”[18] The hope for the people of Waikato “was to open up peaceful political channels to resolve injustices.”[19]

This not only was an act of peaceful response by the Māori King Tawhio at the time, but was an act clearly of justice for Māori from the government over the many disputed lands.[20]

The example of a peaceful God who required nonviolent means also affected the Pai Mārire—good and peaceful—movement led by Te Ua Haumene.[21]

God was referred to as the God of Peace and God of Love and also was acknowledged and praised as the “Son of Universal Peace and a Holy Ghost, Spirit of love, and Spirit of Peace.”[22]

However, some of the followers of Pai Mārire couldn’t uphold the peaceful example set by Te Ua due to the great injustices happening to their people. They broke off to create a militant arm of the faith movement and took up arms, becoming the Hauhau Pai Mārire.[23]

Global influence of Māori nonviolence

There is great power and justice in peaceful nonviolent resistance efforts. These efforts not only impacted the successful peace movements of Māori in Aotearoa—such as the 1975 Whina Cooper hīkoi from Te Hapua, the 1977 Takaparawhau (Bastion Point) protests, the 1978 Eva Rickard Whāingaroa protests, and the 2019 protect Ihumātao protests—they also impacted movements around the world.[24]

Parihaka historian Te Miringa Hohaia found the peaceful protest efforts of Parihaka made a significant impact on Mahatma Gandhi “50 years before Gandhi’s defining ‘salt march’ of 1930.”[25]

It is said Gandhi learned about the Parihaka protests from an Irish delegation who visited Aotearoa and that it “significantly reinforced Gandhi’s own ideas about non-violence and his concept of satyagraha, or ‘truth-force,’” fuelling him in his protests against apartheid in South Africa and the colonization of India by Britain.[26]

Gandhi’s efforts also impacted the great Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. According to the Encyclopedia of Dr. King, “Gandhi’s approach directly influenced Martin Luther King, Jr., who argued that the Gandhian philosophy was the only morally and practically sound method open to oppressed people in their struggle for freedom.”[27] This eventually led to the nonviolent resistance of the civil rights movement in America.[28]

I struggle to see the continuing suffering and intergenerational trauma of many Māori in our present Aotearoa context resulting from colonization. I wonder where the justice for Parihaka is today. If you go there today, you will understand the land and people there are still in desperate need of healing.

In the same breath, I can see the great forward movement of the Māori people. In terms of godly justice, God has taken a record of everything that has been happening here in Aotearoa and knows those accounts in the heavenly realm.

Godly justice ultimately will come for all those affected. It is our responsibility and duty as the body of Christ to do justice here in this earthy realm while we are living and breathing on this planet.

Part of doing justice is to reflect the heart of Christ, which is to do justice actively, respond in peace as opposed to starting conflict and war, and manifest Christ’s unconditional love. God will lead us and help us to do the rest.

Glossary

• Hauhau: a militant offshoot of a movement founded in Taranaki in 1862 by Te Ua Haumēne in response to Pākehā confiscation of Māori land and led to the establishment of the Pai Mārire Christian faith

• hīkoi: walk, march, journey

• kaumatua: elder, adult; a person of status within the family or tribe

• iwi: tribe, nation, people, nationality, race, extended kinship group; often refers to a large group of people descended from a common ancestor and associated with a distinct territory

• Kīngatanga: King Movement; a movement that developed in the 1850s, culminating in the anointing of Pōtatau Te Wherowhero as king; established to stop the loss of land to the colonists, to maintain law and order, and to promote traditional values and culture; strongest support comes from the Tainui tribes; current leader is Tūheitia Paki

• kōrero: speech, narrative, story, news, account, discussion, conversation, discourse, statement, information

• kōtiro: girl, daughter

• mōteatea: traditional chant, sung poetry, lament; a general term for songs sung in a traditional mode

• Pākehā: English, foreign, European, New Zealander of European descent; introduced from or originating in a foreign country

• pūrākau: ancient stories, ancient legends originating from Hawaiki

• rangatira: chief (male or female), chieftain, chieftainess, high ranking, chiefly, noble, esteemed; qualities of a leader is a concern for the integrity and prosperity of the people, the land, the language and other cultural treasures

Matt Renata is engaged in an first-of-its-kind program of study in Indigenous theology, a collaboration of Carey Baptist College, Laidlaw College, Te Wānanga Takiura and Otago University. Carey Baptist College is committed to Māori education and leadership.

He leads a gathering of people nicknamed “the Church of Good Vibes” and is involved with Baptist Churches of New Zealand—Te Haahi Iriiri o Aotearoa—where he is chair (Kaihāpai) of the Baptist Māori Ministries National Strategic Leadership Team (Te Kapa Rautaki).

Footnotes

[1]. Mike Ross, “The Throat of Parata,” in Imagining Decolonisation, BWB Texts (Wellington, N.Z.: Bridget Williams Books Ltd, 2020), 29.

[2]. New Zealand Ministry for Culture and Heritage Te Manatu Taonga and Peter Adds, “The New Zealand Settlements Act of 1863,” Encyclopedia, Te Ara: The Encyclopedia of New Zealand (Ministry for Culture and Heritage Te Manatu Taonga, 2005), https://teara.govt.nz/en/document/3893/the-new-zealand-settlements-act-of-1863.

[3]. Keith Newman, Ratana: The Prophet (North Shore, N.Z: Raupo, 2009), 80.

[4]. Allan K. Davidson, Christianity in Aotearoa: A History of Church and Society in New Zealand, 3rd ed. (Wellington, N.Z: Education For Ministry, 2004), 48.

[5]. Davidson, Christianity in Aotearoa, 48.

[6]. Keith Newman, Bible & Treaty: Missionaries Among the Māori: A New Perspective (North Shore, N.Z: Penguin Books, 2010), 228; Davidson, Christianity in Aotearoa, 47.

[7]. Newman, Bible & Treaty, 309.

[8]. Newman, Bible & Treaty, 228.

[9]. Davidson, Christianity in Aotearoa, 48.

[10]. Davidson, Christianity in Aotearoa, 47.

[11]. Davidson, Christianity in Aotearoa, 47.

[12]. Davidson, Christianity in Aotearoa, 47.

[13]. Davidson, Christianity in Aotearoa, 48.

[14]. Dick Scott, Parihaka Invaded (Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 2015).

[15]. Scott, Parihaka Invaded.

[16]. Newman, Ratana, 80.

[17]. Davidson, Christianity in Aotearoa, 133.

[18]. Ross, “The Throat of Parata,” 28.

[19]. Ross, “The Throat of Parata,” 29.

[20]. Bronwyn Elsmore, Mana From Heaven: A Century of Maori Prophets in New Zealand (Tauranga, New Zealand: Moana Press, 1989), 179.

[21]. Elsmore, Mana from Heaven, 191.

[22]. Elsmore, Mana from Heaven, 195.

[23]. Elsmore, Mana from Heaven, 200.

[24]. New Zealand Ministry for Culture and Heritage Te Manatu Taonga and Basil Keane, “Land Protests,” Encyclopedia, Te Ara: The Encyclopedia of New Zealand (Ministry for Culture and Heritage Te Manatu Taonga, 2012), https://teara.govt.nz/en/nga-ropu-tautohetohe-maori-protest-movements/page-3; Lucy Mackintosh, “Unearthing the History of Ihumātao, Where the Land Tells Stories,” RNZ, 2019, https://www.rnz.co.nz/news/on-the-inside/396954/unearthing-the-history-of-ihumatao-where-the-land-tells-stories.

[25]. David Kārena-Holmes, “Taking a Non-Violent Approach to Protest,” News, Stuff, December 2019, https://www.stuff.co.nz/nelson-mail/117961126/taking-a-nonviolent-approach-to-protest.

[26]. Kārena-Holmes, “Taking a Non-Violent Approach to Protest.”

[27]. Stanford University, “Gandhi, Mohandas K.,” The Martin Luther King, Jr., Research and Education Institute, 2017, https://kinginstitute.stanford.edu/encyclopedia/gandhi-mohandas-k.

[28]. Stephen Zunes and Jesse Laird, “The US Civil Rights Movement (1942-1968),” ICNC, January 2010, https://www.nonviolent-conflict.org/us-civil-rights-movement-1942-1968/.

(RNS)—It may surprise many who think of the Middle East as an island of Israeli Jews surrounded by Muslims that in many Arab states, evangelical Christians are growing in numbers and power. At the same time, this minority is facing pressure, both from the Muslim majority and from other Christians.

A Sept. 26–28 meeting of the Middle East and North Africa Evangelical National Councils, held at the Ajloun Baptist Center north of Jordan’s capital, Amman, was the most representative event since MENA, the newest regional branch of the World Evangelical Alliance, was set up in 2018.

Among the delegates were senior leaders serving some 600 million evangelicals from across the region. The World Evangelical Alliance secretary general, Bishop Thomas Schirrmacher, attended from Germany.

The news from individual delegates was mixed. Bassem Fekry, a representative of the Egyptian Fellowship, said Christians in his country—about 20 million in all, according to Fekry, of whom it’s estimated about 3 million are evangelicals—have gotten a boost from President Abdel Fattah El-Sisi, who has begun a process to officially recognize church buildings as sacred spaces—a designation not all enjoy. Fekry is helping about 1,500 churches make adjustments to receive coveted government recognition.

Mixed responses to evangelicals

The Rev. Ghassan Audish, representing the Council of the Evangelical Churches of Kurdistan, in northern Iraq, boasted there were 14 churches for Kurdish Christians. Thanks to the efforts of former Iraqi President Jalal Talabani, who changed the Ministry of Islamic Affairs to the Ministry of Religious Affairs, eight different religions are recognized in the region.

But the Rev. Maher Fouad, the president of the Evangelical Church Union in Iraq, told his fellow evangelicals the Iraqi government has denied recognition of Baghdad’s small evangelical community of 5,000 souls.

Iraq officials, prodded by traditional church leaders, paint evangelicals as “a danger to Iraqi national security.” Eight evangelical churches in the city are threatened with closure. Fouad added that since the U.S.-led invasion in 2003, 2 million Iraqi Christians have left their country.

But even the exile of many Arab Christians from Iraq and elsewhere has prompted the opening of new venues for Arab evangelicals. In Qatar and the UAE, government leaders are allowing the evangelical refugees coming from more restrictive countries to meet and worship. Arab communities in Europe are prospering for the same reason.

A number of Arab nations’ governments have refused to fully recognize evangelical churches in large part because historic Eastern Christian churches oppose them for fear that evangelical churches are luring away their members.

‘Family squabbles’

Schirrmacher, whose wife is a professor of Arab studies, told the delegates he has a “special love for the Middle East, for the Muslim world, for Arabic-speaking people.” While conceding differences among Christians especially are felt in the Middle East, he called for unity and talked about the friction as family squabbles.

He pointed out, too, it was evangelical Christians who tried to overcome European divisions after the Protestant Reformation.

“Our forefathers put Jesus and the gospel above the theology,” he said.

Overall, the meeting, including the visit by senior evangelical leaders, was celebrated as a reflection of a growing movement that is gaining in discipline as an organization.

Evangelicals still are seen as the newest kid on the block in the Middle East, and many see themselves as the continuation of the work of the first apostles, who planted churches whose remains are being unearthed every day in the region.

If there has been pressure on evangelicals from local governments, it has contributed to this cooperation, leaving only the question of whether national governments will accept evangelicals in the Arab region are here to stay.

Daoud Kuttab is a Palestinian Christian journalist and member of the Amman Baptist Church. The views expressed are those of the author.

“Con muchas parábolas como estas les hablaba la palabra, conforme a lo que podían oír. Y sin parábolas no les hablaba” (Marcos 4:33–34 RVR60).

Desde los primeros años del cristianismo las parábolas de Jesús de Nazaret han sido objeto de estudio e interpretación. Son relatos fascinantes. La conjunción de personajes, palabras y acciones, junto con la trama que estos entretejen, producen obras maestras que han tocado el corazón de todo aquel que las escucha, cautivando la imaginación cristiana a través de generaciones. Estas narraciones son sencillas y cautivantes; no hubiesen podido ser creadas por ninguna mente humana. Ilustran el reino de Dios como nunca antes se había imaginado. Emplean relatos de la vida cotidiana de la gente y su cultura, y al mismo tiempo explican realidades espirituales muy profundas que nos ayudan a comprender mejor a Dios, su carácter, sus atributos y su reino. Las parábolas de Jesús hacen uso de realidades terrenales para comunicar verdades espirituales.

Las parábolas desempeñan un papel crucial en la enseñanza de Jesús. Los evangelios sinópticos registran al menos treinta y siete parábolas en forma narrativa, que Jesús enseñó a lo largo de su ministerio. Esto significa que cerca de una tercera parte de todo lo dicho por Jesús y registrado por los evangelistas, tiene la forma de una parábola narrativa. En esta perspectiva, si perdemos el significado de las parábolas de Jesús, perdemos una gran porción del significado de su enseñanza.

En el estudio de las parábolas de Jesús, es importante notar que las sus enseñanzas, incluyendo sus parábolas, contienen la misma relevancia cristológica que tienen las narrativas de sus milagros y señales en los evangelios. Ambos elementos, las enseñanzas de Jesús junto con sus milagros y señales, proveen el retrato cristológico completo que presentan los evangelistas y que cumple plenamente las expectativas mesiánicas que se manifiestan en su persona y en su obra.

El trasfondo cultural, histórico, religioso, social y literario nos brinda una visión más adecuada para leer la parábola en el contexto adecuado. Es especialmente muy útil identificar los elementos contextuales judíos tales como las tradiciones y creencias del judaísmo del primer siglo, que eran comúnmente practicadas en Israel cuando Jesús enseñó sus parábolas. Estos elementos proveen una comprensión de la manera en que la audiencia original de Jesús, gente común de Israel del siglo primero, entendió las parábolas. Por ejemplo, para captar el impacto que la parábola del Buen Samaritano tuvo sobre aquellos primeros oyentes, hay que considerar con atención la relación histórica y religiosa que sostenían judíos y samaritanos.

Las parábolas de Jesús contienen narrativas verdaderamente conmovedoras; no hay historia creada por la mente humana que llegue tan profundamente al corazón como estas. Llegan de tocar los sentimientos más profundos del ser, animándonos a volvernos a Dios, y a la vez nos enseñan los principios esenciales en que está establecido el Reino de los cielos. Algunas de ellas muestran marcados contrastes y situaciones inversas; otras simplemente inspiran nuestra imaginación sobre cómo es el Reino de Dios, y cómo prepararnos para él. Además, las enseñanzas de las parábolas nos extienden una invitación a reflexionar sobre la trama de cada relato y nos mueven a tomar una acción. Muchas veces, al escuchar las parábolas, es inevitable imaginar más allá de los hechos dados en las narrativas, o pensar en las posibles razones por las que los personajes actuaron de la forma en que lo hicieron en cada una de ellas. Por ejemplo, hay quienes se preguntarán si la mujer de la parábola de la Moneda Perdida vivía sola, o si su alegría de encontrar la moneda perdida venía porque ese sería el sustento para sus hijos de aquel día. De la misma forma podemos preguntarnos si en la parábola del Amigo en la Noche, el hombre no quería abrir la puerta a su amigo para no despertar a sus niños, quienes seguramente dormían en la habitación que daba hacia la puerta de entrada de aquella pequeña casa. Simplemente no conocemos esos detalles, pero es difícil no imaginarlos. Las tradiciones judías, arraigadas en las parábolas y el contexto del primer siglo en Israel son de gran utilidad al interpretarlas e imaginar más allá de las narraciones.

Sin embargo, las parábolas están completas tal como son. Como se ha mencionado, la reflexión sobre la parábola es fundamental para el proceso de aprendizaje. En algunos casos, Jesús invitaba a sus oyentes a tomar el lugar de un personaje de la parábola y decidir qué hacer en una situación dada. Este es el propósito de la parábola; crear reflexión y enseñar un principio usando la comparación. Pero no sólo eso, las parábolas llaman a sus oyentes a actuar en base a este principio.

Sobre el libro:

“Las parábolas de Jesús en su contexto” es un libro que se transforma en un compendio de consulta para poder entender el mensaje en su contexto, descubrir la cultura judía en la que vivió como hombre y ese nexo ineludible e inexplicable que cada parábola guarda con el día a día, dos mil años después. La forma clásica de la parábola como una narrativa se encuentra solo en dos conjuntos de escritos: el Nuevo Testamento y la literatura rabínica. Estas dos fuentes de parábolas, las parábolas rabínicas y las parábolas de Jesús, contienen aspectos que ponen en evidencia que la parábola es un género literario único, con características independientes a cualquier otro género literario. Además, esta obra cuenta con una guía de estudio al finalizar cada capítulo que ayudará a afianzar los conocimientos revelados por el autor y así acercarnos a interpretar correcta o completamente los elementos que utilizan lenguaje figurado.

Sobre el autor:

El Dr. Antonio Josué Miranda es pastor, conferencista internacional y maestro en el Seminario Bautista del Sudoeste en el estado de Texas, además de otros seminarios y universidades. Sirve en la Convención Bautista Hispana de Texas. Está casado con Daleth y tienen tres hijas preciosas.

Publicado el 10 de setiembre en https://www.baptistpress.com/resource-library/espanol/las-parabolas-de-jesus-en-su-contexto%EF%BF%BC%EF%BF%BC/