Brian G. Mattson's Blog, page 3

Miroslav Volf, Cautionary Tale

The headline calls it "surprising," but it was the least surprising thing I'd encountered in a long time. Influential theologian Miroslav Volf endorsed voting for Hillary Clinton, essentially saying that her worldview is more in line with Christian principles than that of her opponent.

As I say, I am not surprised. Earlier this year Volf co-authored a book entitled, Public Faith in Action: How to Think Carefully, Engage Wisely, and Vote with Integrity. To call this book "disappointing" is an understatement.

Chapter after chapter the authors lay out the various burning political issues of the day, explaining the debate, the motivations of the various views, and itemizing the points of dispute (in a section called "Room For Debate"). And... that's it. They never "land" anywhere. Their magnanimity and openness is such that I am reminded of the Chesterton quote: "Merely having an open mind is nothing. The object of opening the mind, as of the opening of the mouth, is to shut it again on something solid." Instead, we get pages and pages of "hmm-ing, "hawing," thoughtful head-nodding, and chin pinching.

Consider the chapter on abortion, probably as clear-cut a contemporary moral issue as we can find. The hand-wringing is virtually audible, as if emanating from the physical page. The authors cannot decide whether pre-viable unborn humans should be "accorded the respect, protection, and nurture a human life deserves." They must "leave open" the question of when human life begins. And when it comes to debates about abortion in America (a country with the most damningly laissez faire laws in the world), they find the necessary moral judgments "vexingly difficult." (I have no doubt they do.) When it comes to public policy, we get a lot about the need for expanded health care, education, economic protection and support, safe environments, and so forth, but abortion foes are then backhandedly chided for expending their finite resources into, well, opposing abortion laws. If there is any real moral guidance in this chapter, it is elusive. Yes, their first sentence says that human life is precious. If any reader can discern exactly what that principle means for the real-world problem of the wholesale eradication of millions of babies after reading this chapter, they deserve some kind of award.

On and on it goes, the authors sailing and drifting in the upper atmosphere, never picking a spot to land...

And then...

One reaches the chapter on (extra points if you guessed it)...marriage. Suddenly our authors have very strong convictions. Suddenly they can say something with a refreshing amount of boldness and certainty. And what they say is that Christians ought to (that is, are morally obligated to) support the idea of marriage for same-sex couples. No ambiguity, no hand-wringing; just full-throated advocacy. It is truly an amazing transformation.

And I won't be shy telling you what I really think. The pathetic, tedious, roundabout collection of hand-wringing chapters in this book are just a smokescreen for this one chapter. Is it really an accident or funny coincidence that this is the single chapter with a discernible agenda? I very much doubt it. The authors lull the reader with all their care and erudition, all the "vexing questions" about which they refuse to be dogmatic, thus gaining the reader's trust with their apparent (as the subtitle indicates) care, wisdom, and integrity. And then they slip in this poison pill.

I need to be clear. I don't actually believe that Miroslav Volf and Ryan McAnally-Linz somehow consciously decided to perform what amounts to a sleight-of-hand. I actually believe they didn't need to. That's the nature of self-deception, the kind of self-deception that arrives at a place where questions about abortion in the Bible are vexing and perplexing, but that the Bible pretty clearly approves of solemnifying same-sex relationships in matrimony. Seriously, just chew on that for a while. You see, the mind cannot remain open forever; it, like the mouth, must shut on something. And when God's Word is not that on which we feed, when it never actually "lands," never actually applies in the real world, when it's an intellectual plaything rather than Holy Writ, when it's just a chin-pinching conversation partner alongside other equally valid considerations, we will find ourselves very, very upside down.

As I say, it's a cautionary tale.

A Hillbilly With Incredible Hindsight

I was going to write a review of this book: Hillbilly Elegy, by J.D. Vance. I suppose when I'm done, it'll be something like a review. But the truth is there's just not a lot I can say other than: you should really, really read this book.

Vance's book is already a bestseller, for good reason. So excited was I to receive it that I opened it to the opening paragraph straight away. I didn't read any of the blurbs on the back. I was immediately hooked. Upon finishing the book, I finally turned it over and read what other people said about it. My interest in writing a review vanished when I read what Amy Chua had to say:

A beautifully and powerfully written memoir about the author's journey from a troubled, addiction-torn Appalachian family to Yale Law School, Hillbilly Elegy is shocking, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, and hysterically funny. It's also a profoundly important book, one that opens a window on a part of America usually hidden from view and offers genuine hope in the form of hard-hitting honesty. Hillbilly Elegy announces the arrival of a gifted and utterly original new writer and should be required reading for everyone who cares about what's really happening in America.

That pretty much says everything I wanted to say. I wholeheartedly concur. To whet your appetite even more, read this excellent interview with Vance by Rod Dreher.

But I'll say a few things more. A number of years ago renowned sociologist Charles Murray published a book called Coming Apart: The State of White America, 1960-2010. It was the kind of book a sociologist would write. Lots of charts and discussions of percentiles and quintiles. An incredibly important book, but not one destined to be read by the masses. Murray documents the astonishing divide between 'two Americas,' the upper-class elite (which he labels "Belmont") and the world of lower-to-middle class whites ("Fishtown"). Conventional wisdom usually believes that Belmont, the elite, liberal upper-crust, is the haven of those who eschew traditional family values, whereas the common folk--the NASCAR-loving, country music-blaring, beer swilling types--are those that keep the flame of God, country, and family.

What Murray discovered is the opposite. Wealthy liberals, in fact, largely practice traditional values; they just don't preach them. The white lower classes, on the other hand, preach traditional values, but don't practice them. The levels of social disintegration, broken families, crime, poverty, drug addiction, welfare, and so on, among Fishtown are astonishing.

Murray's book has just been given an epic illustration: a raw and captivating tale of one young Hillbilly (a term that refers to the "hill" folk of Appalachia) who escaped the spiral of addiction and misery through the love and support of deeply flawed, but loving, people. But it's not just captivating in the sense that watching a car accident is captivating. It is captivating because Vance has somehow, in some way, achieved a remarkable "30,000-foot" view over his own history. He probes his experiences and memories in all their complexity to offer real insight into the plight of the white working (or, mostly not working) poor. And he concludes that no political platform, no government program, is capable of truly healing what is a deeply profound spiritual and cultural problem. That's not to say nothing can be done. There is plenty that can be done at the level of local communities and civil society. But it is a clarion reminder to his own people that nobody did this to us. We did this to us.

If you want to understand--truly understand--how politics is downstream from culture, you should read Hillbilly Elegy.

And, finally, if you want to understand--truly understand--the phenomenon of Donald J. Trump and his success among the white working class, you should read Hillbilly Elegy.

Doubting Thomas (Aquinas)

[I was very recently privileged to participate in a panel discussion on the prospect of revitalizing Natural Law Theory for public engagement. My interlocutors were Francis J. Beckwith and James K.A. Smith. The event was non-public and will not be made widely available, but I am happy to post here my opening remarks. Without further adieu...]

It is an honor and privilege to be here with you, alongside these capable and gifted scholars. I have been invited to share with you my perspective on the project of revitalizing Natural Law Theory for purposes of public engagement. First, I should get this out of the way: I share wholeheartedly the desire to retrieve the concept of a transcendent moral order—a law “above the law”—in our cultural ethics and jurisprudence. None of us disagree that there is such an order and that it is critical for human society that we recover our apprehension of it. But I do have some doubts. I acknowledge that my doubts to not apply with equal force to all aspects of every version of Natural Law Theory. In his own work, for example, Dr. Budziszewski has sought to advance an understanding of natural law in a way that addresses a number of areas of my concern. And I look forward to this discussion to discover if there is more concord between us than may initially appear.

As for my doubts, they center on the validity and viability of establishing and/or arguing for a transcendent moral order in a self-consciously non-theological or pre-revelational way. That is, by “unaided” reason, without relying on God, the Bible, theology, or Christian tradition.

Without further fanfare, allow me to present five problematic areas as I see it.

Doubt #1: I am skeptical of Natural Law’s alleged intellectual and rhetorical advantage.

Here is conventional wisdom: “We cannot resort to theology in matters of public concern because our opponents do not believe in theology.” I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but our opponents do not believe in nature, either. These are, after all, people who believe everything—even our very biology—is a psychological and socio-cultural construct. Talking about “teleology” and inherent “goods” is every bit as unpopular with our public audience as quoting John 3:16. Our culture’s dominant worldview is precisely that there is no teleology. There is no “purpose.” The Watchmaker is blind. As Justice Kennedy has been teaching us, “at its heart” meaning and purpose is an act of self-creation.

So if public discourse requires a priori agreement about fundamentals like God or Nature, it strikes me that Natural Law Theory is not in the advantageous position it imagines.

Doubt #2: I am skeptical of a neat separation between general and special revelation, between the truths of reason and the truths of faith.

Indeed, it seems to me that when the architects of modern secularism (e.g., Descartes, Kant) sought an intellectual foundation grounded in pure reason, a kind of nature/grace dualism of the Middle Ages had already paved the way. We were left fairly helpless when Immanuel Kant kicked God out of the realm of Reason because that is how many already conceived of him. I find Augustine much better: knowledge—all knowledge—is “faith seeking understanding.” Scratch a truth claim deep enough, and you’ll uncover a faith commitment.

General and special revelation should be viewed as an organic unity—not as parallel tracks—and so also the human person must be viewed as an organic unity. People do not think in terms of two “sets” of propositions, each in a hermetically sealed silo. Rather, they always come to topics shaped and influenced by everything they know. This is true even of Natural Law proponents: what they mean by their references to the natural world is itself shaped by special revelation. In other words I’m doubtful that “unaided” reason really is unaided. So, for example, when Ken Meyers writes that instead of talking about “sin,” we should talk about “living against the grain of the universe.” I ask: What “grain?” He certainly isn’t fooling me, and I very much doubt he’s fooling anybody else. His understanding of a “grain of the universe” is not the product of strict rational thought; it is clearly underwritten by his faith commitments.

And I don’t see why we should be shy or uncomfortable about this. In his book, The Disenchantment of Secular Discourse, Steven Smith compellingly shows that none of the bulwarks of our “secular” society (e.g., human dignity, equality, etc.) are arrived at by strict reason—rather, all parties smuggle their ideological faith commitments into the public square by reassuringly telling themselves and everybody else that the arguments are based on strictly “secular” reason, when they are in fact nothing of the sort.

Doubt #3: I’m skeptical of Natural Law Theory’s assessment of the human epistemic condition.

Brilliance is overrated. We know what true unaided reason is. It is “futile” and “darkened,” (Rom. 1) “depraved,” “enslaved to the flesh,” “death,” “hostile to God,” “unwilling” and “unable” to submit to him (Rom. 8), and “foolish” and “unspiritual” (1 Cor. 1). None of these characterizations are my own. Rather, they are how the Bible characterizes the fallen human mind. The problem is not so much that people don’t believe in God; it is that they won’t believe in God. It is a mistake to believe that human reasoning capacities are generally amenable to arguments that point in God’s direction. I do not believe that reason is ethically neutral, and that appears to me a prerequisite for Natural Law Theory.

Now, of course unbelievers know lots of things and deploy their mental resources very successfully. I readily and thankfully admit it! But I think it makes a difference whether we view that general “reasonableness” as simply the natural state of affairs (a “natural law,” perhaps?) or whether we view it as grace. If it is merely the natural order, we can presume upon it—indeed, so much so that we can use it to construct a general epistemology. But one does not presume upon grace. And grace is what I think it is.

Doubt #4: I am skeptical of halfway-house conversions.

Don’t misunderstand me: if a natural law argument persuades someone to, say, change their mind on the morality of abortion, I will rejoice. But I have nagging doubts about an overall approach that appears satisfied with that. It seems to me one thing to not explicitly ground our foundational convictions in the Bible for a particular existential and/or situational reason (e.g., maybe quoting Scripture right now isn’t the best tactic). But it seems an altogether different thing to never talk about God or his Word in public affairs as a matter of principle.

I struggle to find warrant for a principle that bids me not to press the claims of Christ’s Lordship in the public square, whether with respect to morality or the intellect. We are to take “every thought captive” to the obedience “of Christ.” Peter tells us the prerequisite for our apologetics is to “In your hearts set apart Christ as Lord.” We are called to “Love the LORD your God” with our minds. Does our reticence to appeal to God’s revealed Word betray insecurity or half-heartedness?

And to be clear: I am not talking about the caricature of the guy who just quotes Bible verses as “conversation stoppers.” I am talking about a willingness to boldly give deep and “thick” biblical and theological descriptions of reality, to allow what we really believe to organically, openly, and unashamedly shape our entire view of Life, the Universe, and Everything. I am quite confident that can be done in conversation-enriching ways. In fact, I think it is when we actually get to the heart of the matter, the antithesis between two deep convictions on the nature of reality and ethics and knowledge, that conversations actually get interesting.

Doubt #5: My final doubt I will put in the form of a question:

Isn’t it possible that our reluctance to engage in this kind of “thick-description” biblical and theological discourse in public affairs is one of the culprits of our cultural decline?

Why is it so easy for someone—even highly educated, lettered academics—to describe the run-of-the-mill Christian believer as a mindless “bigot”? To instinctively assume there can be no intellectual reasons for convictions brought by faith? Have not we ourselves perpetuated this very idea: intellect and faith occupy two different spheres?

What if we are to blame? I don’t think we should be at all surprised that after centuries of playing by Secularism’s cardinal rule, “Leave God, the Bible, and your faith out of it!” we wake up to find that Secularism dominates the field. And I’m concerned that some versions of the Natural Law renewal represent a doubling down on the failed strategy that got us here, rather than a real advance.

Father as Defender

[From time to time I am struck by memories of my youth. I try to write them down for posterity.]

I had no idea I was growing up in an idyllic slice of America that would shortly disappear. We lived on a “court,” a neighborhood in which a single street forms a large rectangle, with three cul-de-sacs at the corners and only one entrance and exit. We called it “The Block.” At the south end was a large, well-appointed city park, and a sidewalk cut through the middle of the interior section which made it easy for kids on the north side to cut through to the park without walking all the way around.

“Idyllic,” I say, because even though these were the days of putting “missing children” on milk cartons, very few people were concerned about child abduction. Yes, Mrs. Harper always kept close watch on her kids—they were notoriously not allowed to “leave the block.” Not even a toe could touch outside the confines of our haven. But mostly, parents just let their kids run free, especially in the summertime. We’d have late-night games of “war” with all the neighborhood kids, and the entire neighborhood was the field of play. Sporting full combat gear (purchased from the Army/Navy store), you could jump any fence or cut through any backyard without incident. Even the dogs knew every kid on the block.

In the cul-de-sac to the west of our house lived a family that was different from the rest of the block’s upwardly mobile lower-middle class. I always avoided going near their house. Not because Boo Radley lived there, but something much more terrifying. Mr. Simon was a hulk of a man. He sported a thick black beard, had long hair covered by bandanas, and was never seen without his signature biker gang leathers. I have no idea what he did for a living, but whenever he was home he seemed to have only one occupation: tinkering in his garage with some kind of classic car that no matter how long he worked on it never seemed any more “restored.” He chain smoked, which, while I do not recall my parents ever saying anything about it, gave a whiff of scandal for a budding Pharisee like me. If my friend Todd and I were hanging out in my front yard, we’d scurry to hide every time we heard that Harley Davidson fire up down the street. We were petrified of the man.

The Simon children (I recall two boys, and later, a younger sister) were of the annoying sort. They did not fit in with the rest of the neighborhood gang. I do not recall for certain their names, but the the younger son—let’s call him Jake—is the relevant subject. One fine summer day the gang (Which we called the “A-Team,” after the television show dominating the airwaves at the time) was hanging out on the Harper’s driveway. My two older brothers, Jeff and Dan, the Harper boys Troy and Todd, Jay Whittington, and me. I could not have been more than seven or eight years old. Also among our group was a cranky, cocky, arrogant kid of very lower-class, mysterious parentage named—I kid you not—Rogue. We were doing the typical “What should we do today?” mulling about when we heard the squeaky wheel of Jake Simon riding down the street on his tricycle. Squeaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueak! When he got to the front of the driveway, he made a left turn and rode right up to the group. 

“Whatchya doin?”

Rogue stepped forward, puffed out his chest and replied, “Nothing. And if you run over my foot I’ll punch you.”

Jake immediately put the pedal to the metal and ran over Rogue’s foot. (Did I mention annoying?)

Smack!

I remember the sound like it was yesterday because it was the first time I’d ever heard that sound outside of the volume-enhanced versions of the movies. It was even louder than the movies. Rogue right-hooked Jake squarely in the eye. Jake fled, bawling and squeaking his way back down the street. We were all appalled, and in pathetically meek, weak, and mumbling fashion said things like, “Rogue, you really shouldn’t have done that!”

Now, I don’t know what got into Jake, but an hour or so later we heard that same familiar Squeaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueak! He was getting back on the horse after getting bucked, I guess. Or bravely facing down his bully. Or he had just gone insane. Because, after riding back up the driveway, this time with one very puffy black eye, the conversation went exactly like this.

“Whatchya doin?”

“If you run over my foot I’ll punch you.”

…

Smack!

Directly in the other eye.

Bellowing wails and lamentations once again echoed and resounded over the entire block as he squeaked his way back home. The A-Team was on edge the rest of the day. Our Commander, my oldest brother Jeff, instructed everyone to lay low. We all knew trouble was brewing. It was all particularly humiliating because the A-Team, despite how it sounds just now, was a pretty welcoming gang. We were not mean. We were not bullies. We fostered esprit de corps and brotherhood and discipline. (Seriously, we did military drills in our backyard, in preparation for the inevitable Russian invasion.) We just happened to have a really bad seed at that moment in time, a character with a very appropriate name: there is no doubt in our minds he was “rogue.” 

The afternoon drifted late. We decided to cut through the block and head for the park. As we made our way up the grassy hill to the playground, I heard another thing I had never heard outside of movies: squealing tires. I jerked my head around and saw a car rounding the corner sideways. The engine roared and the blacktop was indelibly marred with hot rubber. 

Mr. Simon was gunning for us.

We all watched in awe as his car careened into the parking area to an abrupt halt. He leaped out of the car, screaming at the top of his lungs. He loped to the top of the hill, towered over us, and gave us a piece of his mind. It was all such a blur I cannot remember the soliloquy. I’m pretty sure it was profanity-laced. There were dark threats. Not the “I’m going to tell your parents” kind, either. The “I’ll bury you alive if you ever touch my children again” kind. He openly shamed my older brothers. That I recall. For Mr. Simon, they bore responsibility: the more powerful must protect the weak.

It was literally the first (and last) time I ever heard Mr. Simon speak. And the impression—if not the actual words—was unforgettable.

Nobody ever dared harass the Simon children again. Ever.

I faintly recall now something odd. Mr. Simon was a very scary guy we reasonably thought was in a biker gang. He was by definition something of a misfit, especially for our neighborhood. But I now remember one of the things that made his children so annoying: they rarely uttered a sentence without the words, “My Dad.” Nobody could ever top them in the childish game of “My Dad is better than your Dad.” I was terrified of him, but they worshiped the ground he walked on. They admired him. And they loved him.

And, as everyone (the A-Team and his own children alike) discovered that day, he loved them, too. Whatever his social deficiencies, he was their lodestar, their hero, and their defender. Tire marks were laid down as testament for years.

My brother Jeff flourished into an exceptional leader. He had a highly unusual interest in the weak. He was popular in high school, part of the cool crowd, but it was his befriending and mentoring of shy, nervous freshmen that made him Captain of the Cross Country team. This, when he couldn’t even run fast enough to obtain a Varsity letter. He always had an eye for misfits and wallflowers, always bending over backward to make people welcome. It was this kind of leadership—servant leadership—that awarded him an eventual appointment to West Point and his subsequent service in Bosnia and Kosovo.

Dan, too, became a man of service to others, earning a full-ride ROTC scholarship to pursue a nursing degree. As a nurse anesthetist, he served two tours in Baghdad during the most gruesome and violent period of the war. He, too, had an eye for serving the weak and wounded in unusual ways. Once, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld stood muttering under his breath near the bed of a terribly wounded soldier. Dan intervened, saying, “Sir, he can hear you. Please talk to him.” The Secretary and that soldier shared a quiet moment of powerful intimacy they will likely never forget.

Fatherhood is not an abstraction. That day the A-Team saw it in its raw, untamed, flesh-and-blood reality. As unlikely as it seemed to us, that “unlovable” man’s children had something utterly irreplaceable: the love of a Father, protector, and defender.

It made us all better men.

Risen: A Brief Review

I took the eldest to see the film Risen tonight. I thought I'd write a few reflections.

This movie is a welcome breath of fresh air in the arena of Christian or "faith based" entertainment.  Sets, costuming, casting, screenplay, cinematography, music are all very well done. Not a Best Picture, by any stretch, but we're definitely competing in the same ballpark with Hollywood. From a filmmaking standpoint, my only sort of negative impression is that the pacing seemed to drag in a few places. I stifled a yawn or two a few times.

The story is very clever and well-conceived: Clavius, a Roman Tribune, is tasked with finding the body of a recently crucified Nazarene named Yeshua. The narrative proceeds from his vantage point as he tracks down the followers of this Jewish Rabbi and questions them. And, yes, he discovers the truth: This Yeshua has risen from the dead! The portrayal of the disciples is simply superb. Unlike most Bible epics, Risen gives a realistic picture of what this rag-tag band of Galilean fishermen must have looked like to the casual observer. They had no gravitas, no special skill set observable to the naked eye. No one would suspect that these few would very soon change the course of the entire world. The sheer improbability of their small movement conquering the world is very evident.

I enjoyed the film, and give it positive marks. And I agree with everything my friend Andrew Sandlin writes here.

Now, for a negative critique. One of the "sins" of Christian films is that they often "preach" too much. The films are not generally done "for art's sake," but for evangelism's sake. They pack in as much theology, conversion story, and "Christian-y" jargon as they can. I've been quite critical of this tendency in the past.

The problem with Risen, by contrast, is that it preaches too little. I'm not trying to be a perpetually unsatisfied Goldilocks here, but this is a real problem with this film. Jesus' disciples, understandably, are bewildered at the resurrection appearances. They don't know what to make of it, and frankly tell Clavius as much. That's not so much the problem (it's likely that was actually the case!); the problem in Risen is that by the time Jesus ascends into heaven, his disciples appear just as clueless. Jesus commands them to preach the "gospel" to all nations, and viewers may be forgiven for scratching their heads as to what, exactly, that is. Pardon the pun, but there is barely any flesh on it. There are some oblique references: Mary Magdalene talks about being "free." Others talk about "love." And "eternal life" is mentioned on a couple of occasions. They are clearly deeply moved by him. They revere him. They worship him. But there is little to no content to their beliefs about him. I just think it is all too easy for someone to leave this film wondering what, exactly, this resurrection is supposed to mean. And it's not like such content would be unduly intrusive or preachy. This is a movie about the resurrection of Jesus. I wouldn't think non-Christian viewers who go the length of buying a ticket would exactly be offended by being told what it means that Jesus is risen. As it happens, telling people what it means is sort of the exact job description of the very disciples being portrayed. It's a missed opportunity.

And I'm not asking for a systematic theology lesson here. Here are some words that never appear in Risen: "Repent." "Kingdom of God." "Forgiveness of sins."  Not only were these central to Jesus' teaching, they form the core content of Apostolic preaching. Maybe I'm too picky. But is it asking too much of a Christian film to mention, say, the forgiveness of sins? I don't think so.

While too little, what Risen does say is true, good, and beautiful so far as it goes. There are some genuinely moving and lovely scenes. On the whole I agree with the San Francisco Chronicle reviewer who wrote: "Whatever your religious affiliation, you will come away thinking that if all this did actually happen, it probably happened something like this."

Indeed. 

And My Candidate Is... Marco Rubio

I've explained why I think Donald Trump would be a catastrophe.

I've explained why I think Ted Cruz would be a mistake.

I do not fancy myself important enough to issue "endorsements" (or to have it noticed if I did), but a reader did ask me, "Then WHO????" I've decided to answer by way of a personal * endorsement anyway.

*This is a personal endorsement, and should not be confused as an official view of either of the 501(c)(3) nonprofit organizations with which I am affiliated. 

I endorse Senator Marco Rubio.

His bona fides as a conservative leader are beyond impressive.

Despite his youthful appearance, his political leadership experience exceeds that of his rivals.

He is easily the most articulate promoter of conservative principles we've seen in thirty years.

And, if nominated, he will be elected.

I say all this knowing full well the usual criticisms of Senator Rubio. I find none of them compelling.

Marco is the "Establishment" guy. If so, I'd like to join this "establishment." We should pinch ourselves if, at long last, the imagined backroom cigar-smoking cabal has given us a Marco Rubio instead of a John McCain or Mitt Romney. Yet, for all that, it isn't really true: Marco is a person who openly defied the so-called "Establishment" when they told him not to run for U.S. Senate. He's done it again by running for President alongside his friend and mentor, Jeb Bush.

Marco worked with Chuck Schumer on the "Gang of 8" immigration bill. Yes, and he didn't support the final product. Next question.

Marco is for "amnesty." Marco Rubio supports the legalization (not necessarily citizenship) of law-abiding illegal immigrants who meet a number of qualifications. I believe this to be to his credit. The easiest thing for Senator Rubio to do after the Gang of 8 debacle was to stick his finger in the air, assess which way the conservative winds were blowing, and renounce his support for any kind of legalization. That's exactly what Senator Cruz has recently done, to my dismay ("I do not intend to support legalization."). But Marco Rubio has consistently and straightforwardly told us that, while strongly in favor of border security, he is against a mass deportation of law-abiding people and that they must be brought out of the shadows to become legal participants in our society. This is not only a humane position, it is the rational position.

I have watched Senator Rubio in many different contexts: long-form speeches, 30-second cable interview soundbites, debates, stump speeches, Q&A sessions, etc. I have come to the conclusion that he cannot be stumped. He is never at a loss for words. And the answers that roll off of his tongue are typically brilliant. His only embarrassing moment ever captured on camera was taking a drink of water in the middle of speaking on national television. His knowledge of public policy is encyclopedic. His awareness of foreign policy challenges is simply unmatched. He is a once-in-a-generation political talent. A prodigy.

Too many conservative politicians, including Senator Cruz, play exclusively to the "base." Marco can throw red meat, but he has the all-too-unique ability to communicate and persuade people on the outside. He does not just preach to the choir; he makes the choir loft bigger.

We live in a celebrity saturated culture. Marco Rubio is approachable, gracious, good-natured, likable, and (yes) handsome. It is not to our credit that so much rides on "image" in our political process, but it is reality. And the truth is that with Marco Rubio we have the best of two worlds: A prime-time-ready, culturally savvy person whose conservative convictions are marrow-deep. 

The age-old Democrat playbook fails at every turn against Senator Rubio as the nominee. He is not old, white, angry, rich, or privileged. He is young, Cuban, joyful, of modest means and humble beginnings. For his age and station in life, he is unusually earnest about his faith and his family, as well as protecting your faith and your family. He exudes gratefulness for the opportunities he's been given, and his decision to campaign on the themes of freedom and opportunity is a winning general election message.

Given the full political package Senator Marco Rubio offers, I believe Republicans shouldn't look any further. I wholeheartedly endorse him, and urge primary voters to give him your support.

Why Nominating Donald J. Trump Would Be a Catastrophe

The subject of my last post was why I believe nominating Ted Cruz is a mistake. In a nutshell, Cruz has a more limited upside than others when it comes to getting enough votes in a general election. I don't doubt the sincerity of his conservatism, and think he would be a solid President, but my gut tells me that he loses to the massive Democrat General Election Voting Machine. It sometimes amazes me how quickly some people forget that in 2012 Barack Obama was deeply unpopular. For months the polls showed Obama winning against Romney only by including 12-15% more Democrats than Republicans in their voting turnout models. Many believed, including me, that such a turnout model was ludicrous.

It wasn't. In midst of terrible economic conditions, horrible approval ratings, widespread disillusionment on their own side, the Democrats simply produced the votes. It was almost as if they waved a magic wand and 65 million+ votes materialized. * If you're banking on anything less this November, you're being very foolish.

* Some of it was "magic," undoubtedly, in the form of fraudulent/paid for votes, but probably not enough to sway the election on its own.

Now, the time has come to explain why I believe nominating Donald J. Trump is not just a mistake in calculation, but an utter catastrophe. 

Many have sounded this alarm already. I cannot improve on National Review's editorial, "Against Trump." It is a tour de force of reason, facts, and prose. I've seen lots of gnashing of teeth against them for issuing such a dogmatic salvo, but not a single argument for why they are wrong. That's because they aren't wrong. Their case is irrefutable. They have the measure of the man.

Additionally, if you'd like a little more background before you read my thoughts below, you really need to read Matt Labash's essay on Trump over at the Weekly Standard. It tells you all you really need to know. Much of it forms the basis of why I can claim without hesitation: Donald Trump is a man without a compass of any kind. Not moral, not ideological, and not political. No, that isn't quite right. He does have a compass, but its needle doesn't point to anything resembling true north; it points at himself. If you think Barack Obama is the Narcissist-in-Chief, if you tire of the words "I," "me," and "my" coming from the lips of a U.S. President, you haven't seen anything yet. Just take a gander at how Donald Trump thinks and talks about himself, his riches, his business deals, his sexual prowess with a great multitude of women, his long list of enemies, and more. This is not a good man, by any moral measure.

I don't think enough people are willing to say that. In fact, almost nobody is willing to say that. But I am a Christian theologian, one dedicated to "public" theology. So let me say this theological truth publicly: Donald Trump is not an upright man. If character and integrity matters to you, and it should, then Trump should be nowhere near your list of possible candidates.

If you doubt me on this, if you think I'm way out on a limb, if you think that sort of judgment is beyond the pale, I simply challenge you to pick up a Bible and read the book of Proverbs from cover to cover. It won't take you that long. You will find hundreds of wise aphorisms taking the form of "The wise man does X... the fool does X." You will find very few of those formulations, if any, wherein Donald Trump sits on the wisdom side of the equation. This man is, in the biblical sense of the word, a fool.

Let me get this out of the way. We need not actually fear a Trump presidency. It won't happen. The Democrat General Election Voting Machine will destroy Donald Trump. It will not even be close. And this is not just because I believe he has as much chance of reproducing Mitt Romney's 60+ million votes (and still fall short!) as I do of making contact on a fastball from Clayton Kershaw. It is because, after over a year of grotesque "in-kind" campaign contributions from the mainstream media in the form of 24/7 wall-to-wall Trump coverage (with the intent of getting this guy nominated), watch what happens next.

Do you think a narcissist, wheeling-and-dealing businessman like Donald Trump has a few skeletons in his closet? No. He's got warehouses. Do you think a blowhard like Donald Trump may have said a few unsavory things that could be used against him in campaign ads? Um, you think? By the time Election Day 2016 arrives, this will be nothing more than a coronation of the Democrat candidate. You can count on that.

Catastrophe Number One: Nominate Donald Trump, and Hillary Clinton or Bernie Sanders will be your next President.

Catastrophe Number Two: Evangelical Christians have often been too enamored with politics, to be sure. There have been a lot excesses, a lot of putting our hope and trust in Princes. Nevertheless, in our insistence upon character and integrity we have been a preservative moral salt and effective moral leaven to our political process. We force politicians to pay real tribute to the great moral issues of the day: human dignity, the right to life, freedom of conscience. Collectively seeking to make Donald Trump the GOP nominee, we will become (as Jesus himself puts it) morally worthless. "To be trampled upon by men." If we get what we want, a strong-armed leader who promises near godlike powers to "get things done," we just might find ourselves and our freedoms literally "trampled upon." 

It is a pathetic sight. Donald Trump, mightily trying to speak "Christianese" at Liberty University with hilarious, forehead-smacking results, succeeds in bringing the likes of Jerry Falwell, Jr., Sarah Palin, and many others into his fold.  

Christians in America are a very cheap date for Donald. But it'll be very costly for us in the end.

Why I Believe Nominating Ted Cruz is a Mistake

Since I've seen a huge increase of interest on my social media pages in Senator Ted Cruz for President, I thought I'd just give my two cents on why this is a mistake.

I'll just say at the outset that on paper Senator Cruz and I would agree on a great deal. I'd be comfortable voting for him, were he the nominee. That said, there are number of things that greatly concern me.

1. Cruz's message is almost entirely negative. Ask him for a 30 second stump speech, you will get thirty seconds of all the things he will undo. Essentially, he's promising to restore America back to the pre-Obama era. That's the speech. It may be a speech that wins him the nomination, but it loses a general election.

2. Maybe you'll say that Senator Cruz will "pivot" his message for a general election. I'm afraid he will not, because he's staking his campaign on the misguided belief that victory rests on simply unifying conservatives. He really believes that there is a conservative majority just waiting to rally around a strong candidate, a majority that failed to materialize for Mitt Romney. I'm sorry to break it to you, but there is no such majority. And the "4 million evangelicals stayed home for Romney" line is a myth. A dangerous, losing myth that Ted Cruz believes.

3. Cruz's message sometimes strikes me as frivolous. Ask for that 30 seconds, again, and you'll hear him promise to, for example, move the U.S. embassy in Israel to Jerusalem from Tel Aviv. That doesn't strike me as a particularly pressing issue, but it does indicate to me he's pandering to a very specific set of evangelical voters.

4. An important aesthetic point: Cruz is abrasive to my ears. And I'm agreeing with him, most of the time. Not a good prospect for winning converts in a general election.

5. I fear that Senator Cruz gives the illusion of leadership much more than he does the real thing. He's devoted his time in the Senate to frequently going out on limbs, only to be abandoned there by everybody. There is a significant set of conservatives who view his scorched earth treatment of his own colleagues (which he groups in with the "Washington cartel") as a net plus for him; as in, a job qualification, not a detriment.

This is a dangerous mistake. 

Let me tell you what leadership looks like. It looks like everybody not hanging you out to dry. That Cruz has been left hanging so many times tells me a great deal about his apparent leadership deficit. Leadership looks like, to give an example, Newt Gingrich in the late '80s and early 1990s. A back bencher from Georgia, and ardent opponent of his own party's leadership, he did not go into the House of Representatives and alienate everybody. Instead, he made friends. He formed groups. He shared ideas. He gave speeches. He cast a vision. He got people to buy into his agenda. He wrote the agenda ("Contract With America"), and got all of his colleagues to sign it. By the time the race for Speaker came around, there was no race for Speaker. Newt was the leader. Period. Oh, and by the way, the race for Speaker came around because Newt Gingrich was the architect of the most impressive electoral victory in U.S. history.

Quite a contrast to Senator Cruz's modus operandi. Just what are his accomplishments? I know what he believes, or says he believes. What has he done? And don't tell me he hasn't been able to do anything because of the wilting lilies in his own caucus. Listen: at a bare minimum, leadership involves the ability to persuade your own colleagues. Absent any evidence whatsoever that he's able to do that, I see no reason to trust that he can be an effective leader for his political party. Ask yourself this: how effective will he be if, upon the unlikely event he wins a general election and becomes President, he has no friends left in the entirety of the legislative branch? Not very effective.

I have no doubt Senator Cruz is a fine man. But I also have no doubt he's got major liabilities other candidates do not share.

A Collection of Quality People

I recently took the time to watch the Presidential Family Forum, an event that involved a number of Republican Presidential candidates sitting around a Thanksgiving table and talking about issues near and dear to social conservatives. I would highly recommend it to you. Do not let its length turn you off; in our "soundbyte" day and age, you rarely get the opportunity to see in-depth, substantive political conversations. (You can skip the first 30 or 40 minutes of the video, however. There's a lot of event "warmup.")

A few general takeaways:

1. Frank Lutz surprised me. I cannot stand his "focus group" thing, but on the whole he asked substantive questions. Only once did he request a "show of hands" from the candidates. And they refused! It was completely fabulous.

2. I am not a fan of asking deep theological questions of candidates. I do not expect the President of the United States to be a theologian, and Frank's question, "Where was God on 9/11?" strikes me as unfair, even if it was revealing. Asking a candidate to give an account of theodicy (or, the "problem of evil") is sort of ridiculous. Be that as it may, the contrast between the two candidates who answered was very interesting. Ben Carson gave an all-too-common "free will" defense: God values our libertarian free will to such an extent he's incapable of preventing evil. I know lots of people (a majority?) are somehow satisfied with this answer, but it doesn't really answer what it thinks it's answering. On the other hand, Marco Rubio decided to wade in and go the opposite direction: God is sovereign. He is alway reigning. Jesus was on his throne on 9/11. He is moving in mysterious ways. We may not understand God's purposes in human suffering, but he has grand purposes. And that's why we call it faith. A refreshingly Augustinian (and biblical) approach to a complicated question. I wanted to reach through my screen and pinch Marco Rubio: are you real? I mean, I've never seen Marco stumped by any question, anywhere, at any time, but of all questions liable to trip him up, I would've thought it would be the problem of evil.

3. I cannot imagine the Democrats having such a discussion. What would they talk about? The chasm between the parties and their competing visions is staggering.

4. I did not like everything everyone said. But taken as a whole, my overall takeaway is that we have an incredible group of quality people running for President. It is an embarrassment of riches, really. None of the candidates come across as phony in any way (well, a couple of times I thought Rick Santorum and Ted Cruz had moments of "veneer"), and many of their testimonies to what God has done in their lives were deeply moving.

These are people of character. That's been in short supply in American leadership for a long time. I'm thankful for them.

The Sexual Revolution, Entertainment, and Christian Art

[The following is an address given to the Center For Cultural Leadership annual symposium held in Saratoga, California, October 2015]

The sexual revolution was in large part successful because it used entertainment media as a principal tool of cultural subversion. There were other tools, of course: the massive takeover of academia and political activism, to name two. But when we ask the question, “What entertains you?” we are getting closer to the center of the cultural upheaval of the past five decades. We are asking a personal question at the heart of our identities: what delights you? What satisfies you? It is the question of what you—or society more broadly—worship. If you subvert and change the very nature of what entertains people, you can change the object of their worship. That means you change people, because human beings become what they worship. That means you change culture.

Many understand that the recent victories of the sexual revolution were achieved because of the contributions of the entertainment industry. Lawyers are not responsible for Obergefell. That distinction belongs to Will & Grace. No—actually, that is not true. I would argue that it is considerably more subtle than that: we owe the collapse of sexual ethics to Archie Bunker.

The year was 1971, during the peak years of cultural turmoil. The show was All in the Family. What was the show about? Everybody thought it was about the Bunker family, but it wasn’t. It was about the family. That is, the institution. And it doesn’t take too much skill in hindsight to observe the message: the family as it existed up until 1971, purely typified by its leader, Archie, is an outdated, patriarchal, homophobic, narrow-minded, and bigoted institution. It’s a radical message, one that never would have stood a chance if it attempted its cultural coup d’etat by demanding immediate acquiescence. It succeeded by making Archie… entertaining. The lovable, but woefully misguided, Archie Bunker. The current show Modern Family owes its existence to All in the Family.

Hollywood continued to push the boundaries further and in every direction using the same playbook. Three’s Company soon directly attacked the outdated, prudish convictions against cohabitation—the “villain” of the show is the landlord, who only allows the newfangled “progressive” living arrangement because they trick him into thinking the male character is gay—of which he also, of course, disapproves. Fathers became optional first and famously with Murphy Brown, and later completely celebrated with the Gilmore Girls. Homosexuality was given beautiful, airbrushed treatment in Will & Grace, and soon thereafter HBO’s Big Love gave polygamy its day in the sun. Sex and the City glamorized the casual hookup lifestyle. Meanwhile, at the box office one “romantic comedy” after another preached the message that personal self-fulfillment exhausts the meaning of romance, marriage, and weddings. The ripple effect of these main stage attractions spilled into everything, with the eventual result being the complete normalization of rampant promiscuity. Frasier is (in my humble opinion) the greatest sitcom ever produced—hilarious, consistent, warm, character-driven, and brilliant in nearly every way. Yet it is difficult to miss how normal is the portrayal of Frasier’s rather casual sex life. That is precisely where the architects of the sexual revolution were aiming. Their radicalism succeeded by being entertaining radicalism.

Where are we now? We have largely lost this long, quiet, guerilla campaign against the family as the institutional channel for human sexuality. And we can certainly say that the sexual revolution’s entertainment victory has brought in its wake important political and legal victories. 

There are, however, silver linings in all these dark clouds. 

First, we need to remember—we must always remember—that the war against sexual purity and the family is a war against God. And that means it is a war against reality. Wars against reality cannot truly succeed. Hollywood can turn Bacchanalian promiscuity into a virtue, but it has no cure for the ills it produces—fatherlessness, single motherhood, poverty, depression, addiction, and crime. As someone important once put it, “the wages of sin is death,” and the real-world slaying is often done by sin’s own effects. Just this month Playboy magazine announced it will no longer publish nude photographs; not because they’ve experienced some sudden conversion, but because the culture of pornography it created is literally destroying their business.

Second, since this is a war against reality itself, the more the bitter fruit of the sexual revolution is felt—that is, the more successful it is—the more likely it shapes its own demise. The Prodigal Son had an epiphany when he got to the pig trough, and I believe Prodigal cultures can experience such epiphanies, too. As an example, I would point to the fact that in recent years there have been a number of films that are almost unintentionally pro-life, like Juno and Knocked Up. The recent film Don Jon explored the devastating effects of pornography on sexual intimacy, Chef is a full-throated anthem of praise for fatherhood and marriage, and one of the top rated television shows is called Parenthood. These are early signs of some people waking up.

Third, as far as entertainment goes, there are frankly few boundaries left to press. Unless HBO decides to produce a blockbuster series glorifying bestiality—and I wouldn’t put it past them—the agenda items are frankly tapped out. Who is a rebel when the revolutionaries win? Someday, hopefully soon, to be “edgy” and revolutionary in entertainment art will mean moving back toward the reality that marriage and family are beautiful, noble, and the way God intended it.

Finally—and this is more a challenge and opportunity than it is a silver lining—Christians need to be in the entertainment business. Note: I did not say, “The preaching and teaching business.” That is the job description of “pastor” or "teacher," not “filmmaker.” Christians have not been particularly good at film, which is a whole discussion of its own that we could take all day to discuss. But one reason is that they do not fully understand the medium. Evangelicalism is a wordy religion, and our films do altogether too much talking. We tell, instead of show. And we try to tell everything at once, for that matter. We teach, rather than entertain and delight. It may be true that aesthetics aren’t everything, but they’re not nothing. Pictures do teach, and moving pictures can teach movingly.

Our films also tend toward the Gnostic in their often unrealistic portrayal of what life in a sinful world is like. The “faith based” market is, for now, completely synonymous with “uplifting and inspiring,” which is why its suffering is never very gritty, its heroes never disappoint you, and why you’re left unsatisfied at the end. An airbrushed, gauzy “Christiany” world is no more real than the airbrushed, gauzy world of the sexual revolutionaries. This is God’s world and his story, and that story often involves horror and tragedy. Christian entertainment needs a healthy injection of a theology of the cross.

Moreover, the sexual revolution did not make one big show pushing every boundary at once; they made lots of shows, lots of angles, lots of characters, lots of stories. Yet Christians seem intent on cramming their entire worldview, complete systematic theologies, into every single product as if God is somehow dishonored if we don’t say everything. You know, it is okay for a talented Christian to write a cute romantic comedy that elevates self-sacrifice above self-indulgence. A couple of centuries ago Jane Austen did it all the time.

The opportunities have never been so widely available for people to make great cinematic art, both in television and at the box office. The democratization of the technology and delivery of entertainment makes it possible for anyone with talent, vision, and modest finances to succeed. Calling our culture back to God’s design for human sexuality is going to mean—it simply must mean—using the technologies of entertainment. The answer to the question, “What entertains you?” tells you what god you worship. And the truth is there is nothing more entertaining than God—have you seen a Hubble telescope photograph? Have you heard the gospel story? Have you felt the transforming power of grace making beauty out of ugly things and turning trash into treasure?

Those are stories worth telling, and the only thing stopping Christians from telling them is a reductionist view of what Christian art can and should be. It is a brave new entertainment world; making art that goes against the flow of the sexual revolution requires bravery. But, on the other hand, the darkness of the current backdrop makes the truth shine all the more brightly.