Sarahbeth Caplin's Blog, page 30
February 15, 2017
Jesus supports the refugee ban because heaven involves “extreme vetting”
February 5, 2017
In defense of posting about politics on social media
January 20, 2017
Conservative blogger’s criticism of Meryl Streep severely misguided
January 16, 2017
Yes, please tell me I’m beautiful: a response to Phylicia Delta
January 8, 2017
Finding readers, selling books: a few things I’ve learned
January 3, 2017
Small, effective change starts with saying, “That is not okay”
December 26, 2016
“I know I can treat you better…” No, Shawn. No you don’t.
December 23, 2016
I’m done with being “nice”
[image error]There are lots of ways to define a “nice person,” but when I think about what this means to me, I’m reminded of Katniss Everdeen’s line from Catching Fire: “I’m not very good at making friends.” I’ve never read a book featuring a character who gets me so much in my adult life, even if there is a decade of an age gap between us. She’s standoffish and introverted. She’s awkward meeting new people and hates small talk. I imagine she, like me, would make a game out of dodging department store employees who want to ask how my day is going and what my weekend plans are. She’d probably find excuses to leave parties early, if she attends parties at all.
I already know, by conventional standards, that I’m not exactly what you’d call a “nice person.” But that’s not the kind of “nice” I want to write about.
It’s been said – rather brilliantly, I think – that “nice people” made the best Nazis, and I have to agree:
My mother was born in Munich in 1934, and spent her childhood in Nazi Germany surrounded by nice people who refused to make waves. When things got ugly, the people my mother lived alongside chose not to focus on “politics,” instead busying themselves with happier things. They were lovely, kind people who turned their heads as their neighbors were dragged away.
Quite a 180-degree turnaround from my younger self, I don’t enjoy talking very much. Seeing multiple pairs of eyes on me makes me break out in nervous sweat and stumble over my words (interestingly, I’ve gotten better at public speaking over the years. Different setting, I suppose). But when it comes to matters of injustice, I become the fiery “nasty woman” my mother raised me to be (and it is one of the highest compliments I can think of to describe my dear mama as “the nastiest woman I know”!). That is something I don’t know how to be silent about. I am prepared, over the next four years, to make nasty over nice when it’s necessary.
A few weeks before the election, I was at a party watching a Bronco’s game when someone brought up politics, and discussed her support for Donald Trump. You’d think someone pulled a string in my back and released it, the way I found myself repeating “He’s a rapist! He’s a misogynist! He’s a racist xenophobe!” over and over and over until my husband, God bless him, literally dragged me out of the building. I don’t know how to explain to him that being a “nasty woman” means more instances like this, where I hope I don’t lose my cool in quite the same way, but I won’t let opportunities to speak up pass by me, either.
I thought of my mother’s neighbors right after the election, when apolitical friends of mine breathed a sigh of relief that we could stop talking about politics. “That’s over!” they said happily. “Let’s focus on other things.”
But then a white nationalist was named chief strategist to the president-elect. Aren’t you alarmed? I asked.
“I choose not to discuss politics publicly,” one friend said. And posted a picture of puppies.
Another friend messaged me privately. She agreed with me, she assured me. She was just as alarmed as I was! “Count me among the silent resistance,” she said.
The silent resistance? What did that even mean, to resist silently?
Though renowned as a pacifist, Jesus did say, “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword” (Matthew 10:34). For years I had no idea what was meant by this. Now, I do; but my “sword” comes in the form of a pen, a tongue, and a social media platform, and I will raise hell like no “nice” person can possibly imagine over the next four years. I will not be “silent.” I may lose friends, but it’s likely that those friendships weren’t all that deep to begin with if this is what it takes to sever them.
You all have my written word that I will never settle to be a “nice person.” From the sisterhood of Pantsuit Nation, nasty women get things done.
Filed under: Social Issues Tagged: Christianity, Controversy, Donald Trump, social justice
December 16, 2016
A Year in Review (of books): 2016
It’s time for my annual compilation of 1% of the books I read and recommended this year:
Fiction
Firsts by Laurie Elizabeth Flynn
The premise of this book sounds ridiculous at first: a teenage girl, Mercedes, has a secret “service” she provides for male classmates eager to lose their virginity. She sleeps with them before they sleep with their girlfriends in order to ensure that the first time is special, and un-awkward. Sounds genius, right? Surely no one could possibly find out about this, and things won’t get very ugly for Mercedes as a result…right?
You can probably guess from the synopsis that things do get ugly, and Mercedes ultimately does face social consequences (she is helping these guys cheat, after all) but that’s precisely what I loved about this book. Mercedes isn’t meant to be likeable at first. You aren’t supposed to feel sorry for her. But the character growth and maturity in this book is unlike anything I’ve read in YA lately. I admit, I was genuinely surprised, but I’m so glad I gave this book a chance, and I hope you do as well. If teenage sexuality isn’t a dealbreaker for you, that is – it goes without saying that there’s plenty of that in here, though I wouldn’t say any of it is graphic.
Devoted by Jennifer Mathieu
Rachel is a teenage girl raised in an extremely fundamentalist family, which I find utterly fascinating, given my secular upbringing. The rules she had to live by are reminiscent of some of my friends who grew up in similar environments: girls could not wear pants, always had to appear cheerful, no movies above PG allowed. Even classic novels were forbidden. As a female, Rachel was raised with the intention of marrying young and having a family. Yet this is not something she’s sure she wants.
Rachel’s doubts, questions, and turmoil are all too believable, and the tension her faith struggle creates within her family make for a gripping read – I finished this book within a day. These aren’t cardboard stereotypes of religious people, either, which is another reason to love this book. And the ending doesn’t wrap up neatly, which I appreciate, given the complex nature of the topic.
Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult
I admit to having a long-held grudge against Jodi for her completely inaccurate, offensive comments about self-published authors, but the premise of this book was too good to pass up: Ruth, a black labor and delivery nurse, is forbidden to care for the newborn of a white supremacist couple. When the baby goes into cardiac arrest, she hesitates, and the baby dies, prompting the supremacists to file a lawsuit against her.
The #BlackLivesMatter movement was probably the best thing to happen to this book in terms of relevance. I saw a great deal of myself in Kennedy, Ruth’s lawyer, when she said, “I don’t see color. The only race that matters is the human race, right?” This book, aside from being a gripping page-turner, does a fantastic job unpacking the privilege (white privilege, that is) behind such statements, well intentioned though they may be. The only people who can claim they don’t “see color” are people for whom color is not an issue. People like Ruth, who are routinely followed by department store employees or treated noticeably harsher than white patrons, don’t have the luxury of not “seeing” color.
The book is written in alternating chapters from the perspectives of Ruth, Kennedy, and Turk, the father of the dead baby. His chapters are, understandably, hard to read, but still illuminating. The epilogue wrapped up a little too neatly, but I still highly recommend this book. I also recommend Roxane Gay’s review here.
Nonfiction
Finding God in the Waves by Mike McHargue
I reviewed this book for Off the Page, but here’s an excerpt:
What I appreciate most about this book is that it’s written for people in the middle of the spectrum of absolutism. Inevitably, there will be Christian readers who deride this book for being too lukewarm, as well as nonreligious readers who will scoff at the idea that there is any room at all for the supernatural in the life of a scientist or science-minded person. Finding God elaborates on a popular saying: science explains the how, but religion explains the why. Science explains how life begins, but not its purpose.
The skeptical reader who can’t quite wrap his head around a virgin birth or a dead man coming back to life is invited to, at the very minimum, contemplate Christianity’s answer to our reason for being. This thought reignited McHargue’s faith and enabled him to attend church again. The God he writes about is less concerned with correct beliefs than he is about the condition of one’s heart. The faith McHargue recovers is arguably more genuine and honest than what he started with, because he is learning to engage with God on his own terms rather than follow prescribed formulas.
Men Explain Things to Me by Rebecca Solnit
A short book that comically explains the phenomenon known as “mansplaining”: men explaining things to women that they already know – in some cases, things women know better than they do. The term itself may be new, although the experience itself is not, and ultimately points to a larger problem: society does not take women seriously, whether it’s in assuming their competence in the workplace, or the seriousness of rape allegations. Far from a “woe is me” narrative, this book takes a serious look at why this happens, and what women can do to stand up for themselves. It does include some disturbing anecdotes about domestic violence and crimes against women worldwide (genital mutilation, bride burning, rape as a tool of warfare), but these are facts we can’t ignore.
At the risk of sounding like your high school English teacher, what books have you read this year?
Filed under: Uncategorized
December 7, 2016
Leaving church because of Trump-loving Christians
On the subject of Christians leaving church after being hurt by other Christians, I’ve often heard this is response:
“If you leave Christianity because of other Christians, your faith was in man, not God.”
I don’t agree with it, but I understand why Christians say it. No one wants to believe we are capable of driving each other away with callous words or hurtful behavior when our role is to encourage and grow with each other. No one wants to admit to the possibility that our own behavior might have played a role in someone’s departure from faith.
Within the last few months, I read several blog posts and opinion pieces on popular media outlets by Christians who left their current denomination due to their brethren’s support of Donald Trump. I’ve written my own posts about my disbelief and utter repulsion at the number of believers who lauded him as God’s divinely appointed leader, despite his platform of racism, sexism, and xenophobia.
I’ve seen pictures of white supremacists at Trump rallies wearing crosses around their necks. I’ve read Facebook posts from Christian friends who trivialize the legitimate fears of people of color, the LGBT community, and the nonreligious, concerned about the future of their civil rights. My understanding that the Holy Spirit dwelling within one’s heart makes one more righteous and compassionate has been called into question. How is it possible that devout followers of a man who himself was the child of refugees could be so callous and indifferent?
I haven’t lost my faith, but I have nothing but sympathy for those who have during this election season. I think of the line from Genesis, “It is not good for man to be alone.” Christians aren’t meant to walk in faith by themselves; there is a reason that the church is called the Body of Christ. Many Christians are fortunate to have never been deeply wounded by other Christians, but just because it’s never happened to them doesn’t mean it can’t happen to someone else. Those who have never been hurt seem few and far between, to be honest.
In church as in any family, members aren’t required to agree on everything, but compassion and empathy are two of the most important markers of discipleship that must underscore everything we say and do. While it’s natural for family members to quarrel, it is an understandable shock to the system to witness “little Christs” defend a man who not only bragged about sexual assaulting women, but also, despite rumors of a recent conversion, claimed he had no need for repentance.
It’s an even bigger shock to hear such things from the mouths of the mentors who guided and encouraged us: bible study leaders, elders, even pastors. When such people represent the will of God to us, and their words and actions do not match the clear commands of Jesus to care for “the least of these,” a crisis of faith is practically inevitable.
People lose their faith for all kinds of reasons. It’s easy to devise a one-size-fits-all formula to explain evangelicalism’s dwindling numbers, but all this does is absolve us of any responsibility for things we did or should have done to hasten a brother or sister’s departure. And rather than take responsibility for things we may have done or said, many Christians instead turn to gaslighting and victim-blaming behavior: “Why don’t you pray more?” “You should have attended bible study more often.” “You should read this book.””Your salvation is at stake if you don’t get back in line.” Etc, etc.
Many of us, myself included, don’t want to permanently leave the church, but are in desperate need of a mental health sabbatical. I haven’t lost my faith in God, but I have lost faith in many of the Christians whose positive influence in my life and public support of Donald Trump I struggle to reconcile. In this instance, leaving my church was necessary to retain my faith.
Because my faith struggles are still raw, I have refrained (although it’s been tempting!) from accusing Trump voters as not being True Christians. Though I firmly believe the values of his campaign are staunchly against everything Jesus Christ ever stood for, my experience with doubt has taught me that it’s not for me to judge the state of anyone’s heart if they claim Christ as Lord. As far as the dictionary is concerned, belief in Jesus’ divinity is the bare minimal requirement to call oneself a Christian. No matter how incredible I find their conclusions, everyone comes to the Bible with their own set of baggage and experiences that will influence the interpretation of what they read, and part of maintaining peace is attempting to understand that baggage.
It may be possible that church is the least healthy place to process some of the shock and determine which friendships are worth continuing, and which cannot be reconciled when the differences run too deep.What helps keep me sane is knowing that God is still there even when I feel spiritually homeless, and community can be done in coffee shops or apartment living rooms without the need for steeples. That’s all church is supposed to be, anyway: community. A group of people growing and learning together. The Bible never says it must happen in a specific building.
Like this post? Check out Confessions of a Jew-ish Skeptic, now available on Amazon.
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Filed under: Theology Tagged: Christianity, Donald Trump, evangelicals, self-care, Spiritual Abuse
