Don't blame Jesus. Blame Southern Baptists!

The United States is a democracy. Donald Trump gained power because enough wrong-thinking individuals voted for the man. What has troubled me right from the beginning of his march to the White House was the support Trump received from Christians, especially from the Southern Baptist Convention, the largest Baptist group in the U.S.

Donald Trump terrifies me. He also terrifies my wife. Years before Trump's fascism was evident to all, my wife saw through him. For her it was easy, but then she didn't have Jesus blocking her view. Quoting scripture many Southern Baptists saw Trump as the right man for the time. Without the support of the SBC, Trump would never have been elected.

Their mistake, one among many, is seeing the Bible as the instruction manual for life. Got a problem? Turn to God. How? Read the Bible. What a huge, unfair burden to heap on the Good Book. There's a pastor of a London-area church who refuses to follow covid-19 restrictions. He likes to do the-dance-on-the-head-of-a-pin as he defends his position. When it comes to stuff like this, my dance card is full. I'd tell him to get on board, make his God proud and do the right thing: wear a mask, practise social distancing and wash your hands.

But taking a wrong-headed message from the Good Book is not new. I encountered this more than sixty years ago when some Bible-thumping, God-fearing folk tried to frighten me into joining their Christian movement with talk of the end-times and the rapture. These were two ideas that even a ten-year-old could see through. The emperor had no cloths, as they say. For a deeper discussion of these two crazy ideas, still sadly making the rounds, read my essay: The Rapture Is Back. Did It Ever Leave?

More and more, people are comparing Donald Trump to Hitler. I think these people are missing the true comparison to be made: Trump's followers compared to Hitler's. Without followers, these two would just be two lonely lunatics. Mean, nasty lunatics. Two hate-filled crazies. One has to add followers to the mix and then, and only then, does all hell break out.

All I the preceding is but a lead up to the following link, a link to a post written by Rebecca Hamilton, a well known pro-life supporter: People Who Stubbornly Follow the Gospels are the Faithful Remnant in the Time of Trump. (I try to check my links. The linked story is a bit strong in language but overall it expresses my fears rather well. But the Patheos site that is hosting Hamilton's post is not to be trusted without careful checking of claims. Be warned.)

I'm going to end this with a short quote from Hamilton's post.

Trump has exposed a lot of things we never wanted to see, and many of us didn’t think were true. 

He has shown us the sheer stupidity of a lot of people. The easy way he has duped people that we’ve known and loved all our lives into believing, supporting and echoing his blatant lies, misogyny and racism has been, to say the least, demoralizing for the rest of us. 

People we love, people we’ve looked up to and trusted, have demonstrated that they are at best easily deluded fools, and at worst, hypocritical phonies. They either don’t believe a lot of the things they have said they believe, or their discernment and judgement are seriously flawed. 

At the same time, our religious leaders, whose discernment and judgement we have been taught to trust without questioning, have demonstrated a callous disregard for the plain teachings of the Scriptures that they claim they represent. This disregard of the Gospels is such an absolute display of faithlessness that it is both breathtaking in its arrogance and faith-challenging for those of us who trusted these men and their leadership.

Trump kicked the stuffing out of my world and I'm mad.

 Gage Skidmore from Peoria, AZ, United States of America (Creative Commons Image)

My wife wisely recognizes a fascist when she sees one. She always took the Trump threat seriously. While everyone from opinion piece writers to pollsters were assuring us that the American public would never elect Donald Trump, a second-rate reality show entertainer, my wife was telling me to be worried. Very worried. He might win; He might be President, she told me.

All that is now history. Four years of a Donald Trump presidency has changed me. Trump, and the world's reaction to him, has left me shocked, appalled, sadden, frightened . . . You get the idea. If not, the following tale should put all into perspective.

 

The other night I caught the end of The Bourne Ultimatum on television. On-the-run CIA agent Jason Bourne is giving CIA Deputy Director Pam Landy incriminating evidence that discloses the depth of perversity infecting the CIA. The disease had a name: Treadstone.

Landy is able to fax the top secret Treadstone files to someone outside the agency and the whole sordid mess becomes a public embarrassment for the U.S. At the end of the movie Landy is testifying before the Senate. Today we know how that might go, and it is not good.

The men behind Treadstone believed in what they were doing, as wrong and evil as it was. Many of the senators, Landy discovers, are more in tune with the goals of Treadstone than with Landy. The senators critically question Landy, a huge television network attacks Landy with numerous, blatant lies. The network with the support of a network of extreme Christians successfully cast doubt on her motives . 

In the end, Landy must go into hiding to evade a trial for treason. After all, she did disclose highly sensitive Top Secret information and she never claimed otherwise. Influenced by lie-peddling radio and television talk show hosts, half the American public wants to see Landy executed and the President has threatened to do just that if she is ever found.

 

I see the world differently today. And I feel foolish. Naive. I was born just two years after the end of the Second World War. I was raised with the memory of a very real Hitler lurking in the shadows. Many of my friends only lived in Canada because their families were seeking a new life in a new country after their lives had been shattered by the war.

Trump rose to power partially by promising that he was the "law and order" candidate. Hitler's platform contained the "law and order" plank.

Which brings me to one of my biggest fears: religious folk. (I must note that religious folk did NOT play a big role in the ascension of Hitler.) Religious folk have always scared me a little. My Roman Catholic friends worried they would miss me after they died. They were going to heaven. The best I could achieve was limbo, or so I was told. My mom assured me that there was no limbo and I was destined for heaven, and for good measure, she said my friends were going to go there as well.

Then there were the fire and brimstone preachers. My earliest memories of of this approach to finding Christ was a chap shouting from my bedside radio with me under the covers fighting a fever-fueled, delusional bout of the measles. I had to follow the teachings of the Bible or face eternal damnation. I had a Bible and I had tried to read it. I knew I was doomed.

And lastly there were the End-Times and the Rapture-Is-Coming contingent of Christians. After attending a rally where these two subjects were the theme, I sought counseling from my Anglican minister. Forget it, he told me. It just isn't going to happen and, as we all know, he was right. (Well, not all. There are still those running around Chicken Little style warning that the end is nigh.)

Now, at the ripe, old age of 73, I've encountered the most fearful group of Christians ever: right-wing Baptists. And, I have a relative who posts stuff from these misguided believers. He assures me that he doesn't follow these deviants from the Christian faith but then why post stuff connected them? Why muddy your own Christian message?

Donald Trump is evil. This is axiomatic. My mom warned me: "Even Satan can quote scripture." When Pastor Josh Buice posts a piece headlined "Confessions of a #NeverTrump Christian Pastor and Why I Will Be Voting for Donald Trump," I cringe in fear.

Why does the pastor now support Trump? In his words, it is to fight "cancerous ideas" that are growing in America. Can one really imagine Christ fighting cancerous ideas by throwing his support behind a man filled to overflowing with cancerous ideas. 

Christ never hit me as a "Let's Make a Deal" kinda Guy. "You give me this and I'll let you get away with that," should not be at the core of one's Christian beliefs. I hate to tell you Pastor Buice but Satan has conned you. If there really is a heaven, we'll miss you.

If the pastor were alone in promoting this corruption of the Christian faith, it would be disconcerting but that's about all. But no, million of Christians are spouting the messages preached by the pastor. Elmer Gantry may need a rewrite. A new, bleaker ending, more in keeping with today, may be demanded.

How to know if you can trust the news source

 Here’s what non-fake news looks like - Columbia Journalism Review (cjr.org)

Morgan Motors: More than a car company

A few years ago my wife and I attended the 50th anniversary party of the Morgan Sports Car Club of Canada. It was well run and well attended event but what else would one expect?

Asked to say a few words after dinner, I was honored. Given five minutes to reminisce, I was told to tell a good story, I took ten minutes and told a pretty poor tale. I apologize. The night deserved more. 

For those of you who don't know, Morgans are said to be the first and last of a long line of well respected English-made, traditional sports cars with most ending production in the middle of the last century.

Why is Morgan called first? Because it was founded in 1909. Need I say more? Why last? Unlike Austin Healey, MG, Triumph and the rest, new Morgans are still being made in Malvern Link, England. No longer exported to Canada because of an ongoing dispute with Transport Canada, today the Chinese are big buyers. Check the link: China Morgans.

If this post were just about a car company, admittedly a very old one, but still just a car company, there wouldn't be much else to say. But a Morgan is more than a car; a Morgan is an experience, a philosophy, a global fraternity, a magic carpet on wheels.

Before I bought my Morgan, I first drove a motorcycle and then, when I lost confidence in two wheels, I bought a car, a Volvo 122. The car was safer than the bike but oh-so-much duller. I hated my Volvo. My heart ached for my Honda 305 Super Hawk.

And then, in late December '68, the answer to my predicament appeared in the window of Metro Motors in Windsor, Ontario: A dark green Morgan Plus Four sat in the showroom.

There was only one hurdle blocking my path to ownership. Curly, the dealership owner, refused to sell me the car without first chatting with my mother. I was 21! But, Curly was firm. I lived with my mom and the Morgan would be the family car, a daily driver. 

Curly sought confirmation that my mom wanted to mother a car along with a young son. The answer was yes; Mom loved the little roadster. It brought back memories of the early thirties and the cars my father drove while courting her. Curly acquiesced, and he sold me the car. My mother did not disappoint. Her affection for the Morgan never wavered. In the spring, I rewarded her with a quick trip to Jekyll Island, Georgia, to visit her sister.

 

An Experience 

We left Windsor before daybreak and drove and drove and drove. We weren't rich; we weren't poor but we were wealth challenged. The trip was a gift to my mom. A reward. A treat.

A hotel room was a needless expense. It was, after all, a one day trip. When I got too tired to continue, we pulled into a rest stop and rested. I believe we reached my aunt's shortly after midnight.

I should mention that I had made a similar but shorter trip in the past. I had traveled by motorcycle from Athens, Georgia, to my Windsor home in one day. Leaving Athens at dawn, I had arrived home after midnight. Despite the fact that the Athens trip was shorter, it took almost as long. 

I had to stop and tighten the bike drive chain and later a foot rest vibrated loose. Finding it and all the parts was difficult in the dark. Outside of Toledo the headlamp died. I drove the last freeway miles tucked tightly into the illuminated space behind a transport truck. Tailgating may be dangerous but it's safer than speeding along a busy highway at night with no lights.

Driving a Morgan is an experience. It puts distance back into driving and it colours the experience with pleasure.

The rapture is back; did it ever leave?

It was the mid '50s when I first encountered the rapture, the belief that Jesus would do a beam-me-up-Scotty routine lifting his earthbound believers to heaven. It would be a now-you-see-me-now-you-don't moment. If you sense that I don't take it seriously, you're right.

It was in the '50s as a ten-year-old boy that I attended a rally where a discussion of the rapture played a central role. Afterwards I discussed the rapture with my Anglican minister -- a minister who went on to become a bishop. He assured me it was a hoax based on a misreading of biblical text.

In the early '70s I worked with some young men who lived each day waiting to be raptured and with joyful glee, I might add. One warned me, "If we are playing catch and you have to run to catch the ball, if you don't see me when you turn around, look up. I may be floating skyward. The rapture may be happening." I  didn't laugh. This was madness. And when the rapture didn't happen, I worried he might become violent. Would he hold the disbelievers like me responsible for the failure of the rapture?

It is now 2021 and some of my relatives are falling victim to the rapture story. I don't worry about them harming me when the rapture fails to come, and it will fail to come, just as it has for well over a century.

No, I worry about losing these relatives, of being ostracized for my lack of belief. I love them dearly and think very highly of them. To consider my life completely without them is a line of thought that leaves me very sad.

If they want to believe in the rapture, that's fine with me. As long as they are not making decisions today based on being raptured tomorrow, I'm comfortable with their beliefs. If my liver wasn't failing, I'd drink a toast to them and to the rapture. "God bless," I'd say. (I may be too generous.)

After I wrote the above I found this on a site maintained by The Johns Hopkins University:

No less a figure than President Jimmy Carter expressed contempt for the rapture. He refers to it in his book Keeping Faith. The Johns Hopkins paper calls the rapture a racket. And the paper chooses to quote Barbara R. Rossing, a Lutheran minister and educator, who wrote The Rapture Exposed. 

Paraphrasing Rossing and condensing some of her arguments: 

Believers in the Rapture are not only in error, but they are an obstacle to building God’s Kingdom on earth. These misguided believers anticipate miraculous rescue from the catastrophes associated with the end-times and thus they do not place enough importance on working to solve crucial issues such as pollution, crime, poverty, and war.  A belief in the rapture is dangerous for planet Earth.