Over on JPGB I contemplate Chappaquiddick:

Chappaquiddick accomplishes something very few movies do: it explores why a man made an evil choice. That is very hard to do because (as James Q. Wilson put it in his brilliant little book Moral Judgement) any explaination for why someone made a decision naturally becomes an excuse for that decision. A man beats his children now because his father beat him twenty years ago; to the extent that the beatings twenty years ago really do explain the beatings now, the man’s choices seem less culpable, and to the extent that they don’t, the man’s choices are less comprehensible. Either the explanation of the evil act is not satisfactory as an explanation, in which case we are left unsatisfied, or the explanation of the evil act does satisfy as an explanation, in which case the act seems less evil.

Chappaquiddick does not compromise on the fact that Teddy Kennedy’s choices were evil. For that reason, it is getting a lot of attention from right-wingers who have long waited for some sort of justice to be done upon the Kennedy family’s crimes. Chappaquiddick shows, in ways that would be impossible for any fair-minded observer to deny, that Teddy Kennedy did evil things, and that is a sort of justice for which we have indeed waited long.

But if you walked out of this movie saying to yourself, “boy, Teddy Kennedy really did evil things in Chappaquiddick, didn’t he?” you missed the point of the movie.

Go see this outstanding film.

TGC carries the first post of my new series on how the sacraments relate to vocation:

The image of “many members and one body” is widely used in our movement to illustrate how we have many particular callings to carry out one faith. Yet one does not often hear the closely related phrase “communion of the saints.”

The incarnation is widely discussed in the movement as demonstrating God’s affirmation of the material world – and in particular his affirmation of work, given that when he took on humanity he took on the calling to physical labor. Yet one does not hear much about how we eat and drink that same physical body of Christ we draw on so often to illustrate God’s affirmation of his world and its work.

If you’d like to share your view of this not-at-all-controversial subject, consider yourself anointed to do so!

Today, TGC carries my long-form article on why the world, and the church, are still haunted by communism even today:

You think communism is old news? I have two words for you: Colin Kaepernick.

On the first day he took a knee, Kaepernick gave a press conference wearing a T-shirt that glamorized mass murderer Fidel Castro. I don’t think my friends on the left understand how fundamentally this act, and his decision to defend Castro when challenged, sabotaged any possibility that his actions might lead to a constructive national dialogue on police brutality…

Let’s get down to it:

Communism is, at heart, the belief that human ingenuity by itself—without God—can destroy the world’s political and economic evils, if only we’re willing to make the necessary sacrifices. Marx’s complex theories of surplus value, economic determinism, and dialectical history don’t establish that human ingenuity by itself can fix our problems; they presuppose it. They’re built on the assumption that natural reason, without revelation, is capable of understanding human life in a comprehensive way. This involves the assumption that there is no supernatural element in human life.

Communism isn’t a political and economic theory that happens to be associated with atheism. It is atheism—atheism as applied to political and economic systems.

Like fascism, communism is an eschatological theodicy built on, and therefore an idolatrous worship of, political movements. Communism is essentially fascism for rationalists.

Alas, that doesn’t mean us anti-communists are off the hook:

Seeing the radical sharing of the early church in Acts 2–5, we should feel shamed by their standard of submission to God and love for God and neighbor, not pleasure that we can use the text to score debating points against communism. And we should feel challenged, in a grace-based way, to put this standard into practice today—not only in our own lives and in the life of the church, but as something we offer to the world around us as the only righteous standard of economic life.

Yes, my man Whittaker makes an appearance:

From Che Guevara posters and Hollywood movies glamorizing it to the endless conservative sermons against it, communism remains “the outrage and the hope of the world,” as it was called by Whittaker Chambers, a Soviet spy who was converted to Christ.

Practice radical sharing by sharing your thoughts on this not-at-all-divisive topic.

Since I didn’t alienate enough people last time, here’s my latest piece shaking my cane and yelling at Calvinists to stop shaking their canes and yelling at evangelicalis to get off their lawn:

It is true that there are lots of Reformed people in the movement, including people who are, as individuals, theologically well-developed. But if we look specifically at those whose particular contribution to the movement is to cultivate its theological development, whether we’re talking about academic theologians or anyone who makes this kind of contribution from any professional platform, I think you would be hard pressed to make a case that the Reformed are a disproportionate presence in the way that, say, Anglicans are given their size.

Feel free to shake your cane at me and yell at me to stop shaking my cane at Calvinists and yelling at them to stop shaking their cane at evangelicals and yelling at them. But watch out – someone might shake thier cane and yell at you too!

If you want a vision of the future, imagine old men yelling and shaking their canes at each other forever.

How Reformed People See Evangelicals

(aka How Catholic Integralists See Protestants)

Contemplating the passing of Billy Graham and of the model of evangelicalism he built, Jake Meador is right that the future of evangelicalism lies in a center-set approach; I guess that’s basically another way of saying this.

Of course, practical realities will often require the drawing of some kind of boundary lines (e.g. on sexuality and ethnic reconciliation) and that in turn will usually involve orienting ourselves with reference to the collapsing Left and Right that Meador thinks no longer offer stable reference points. But he’s basically right.

He thinks Reformed Christianity could provide a fruitful starting point for building a center upon which to center the set. Naturally, as a Reformed guy myself, I’m not militantly opposed to such a claim.

I think he’s mistaken, however, in thinking that the primary reason other evangelicals will not look to us Reformed folks as a credible center is because we have a lot of internal arguments. The main reason other evangelicals will not look to us as a credible center is not in our internal relations but in our external relations.

Serving in such a role would require us to demonstrate a level of humility that has not been in evidence for a long time. People will not follow you as a leader if you fundamentally think of yourself as The Rightful Leader, and that is how we Reformed folks think of ourselves, and have for centuries, and it has long been a stench in everyone else’s nostrils.

Take for example the widespread hand-wringing we are seeing about whether we should stop calling ourselves “evangelicals” because of Trump. Some of these people are good friends of mine, and even if they weren’t, I would want to treat their concerns with great respect. But I must point out that this hand-wringing takes place largely among people who never felt comfortable calling themselves “evangelicals” in the first place. And for a long time this has come across to all the other evangelicals, not without some justification, as condescending. The reality is that we are evangelicals whether we want to be or not, because that is the social position in which God has providentially placed us, and our reluctance to accept the identity is only one of many pieces of evidence that we think ourselves too good for our station.

Calvin never felt too good for his sation! Alas, we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven.

It’s time stop shaking our canes at evangelicals and yelling at them to get off our lawn.

“Come, my friends, ‘tis not too late to seek a newer world.”