Anne Jackson Morledge (November 6, 1928 – February 24, 2015)
My mom died a few weeks ago.
Anne Jackson Morledge was 86 years old, without a doubt the most influential person in my life. Humanly speaking, she was my anchor.
She had been diagnosed with a brain tumor resulting from a stage IV glioblastoma cancer. The tumor was surgically removed, but the surgeon carefully warned us that there was a 100% chance of recurrence. In the weeks after the surgery, I devoured Siddartha Mukherjee’s The Emperor of All Maladies in an attempt to understand this dreadful disease of cancer. Living only twenty minutes from the nursing facility where my mom was, I visited her almost every other day. We had many in-depth conversations as she progressively declined. The wonderful gift provided by the surgery is that it gave time for family and friends to come visit my mom and say good-bye. In the end, she died peacefully in her sleep, with the immediate cause being complications due to pneumonia.
A number of family and friends have requested that I send them the text of the remembrance I gave yesterday at her memorial service. My remarks were framed within the Episcopal Rite II liturgy for the burial of the dead, part of Thomas Cranmer’s Book of Common Prayer, a powerful testimony to the Christian hope. My Veracity co-blogger, John Paine, convinced me that I should publish it here on the blog, commenting that the tensions I highlighted were refreshingly honest: Continue reading
It was March 7, 1965, a day remembered in the civil rights movement as “Bloody Sunday.” A group of African Americans were planning to march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama to demand that they be given the legal right to vote without any unnecessary encumbrances. Six hundred men and women began their march across the Edmund Pettus Bridge, only to be greeted by a line of state troopers waiting for them with billy clubs and gas masks, and members of an all-white county posse, composed of men who had been deputized to participate only the night before. The non-violent marchers were told to go back home or “go to your church.” Television cameras, such as these scenes from CBS, were broadcast around the world showing how the marchers were run over and beaten by “law enforcement.”
In the 2014 film by Ava DuVernay , Selma, the general outline of the story is depicted, showing how the marchers were eventually able to complete their march to Montgomery, which resulted in President Lyndon Johnson urging Congress to pass the Voters Rights Act of 1965. Critics have made much of DuVernay’s negative portrayal of President Johnson as being directly antagonistic towards the efforts of Martin Luther King, Jr., so one might complain of the tendency to oversimplify the narrative regarding what happened in Selma, and King himself was far from perfect.
Nevertheless, as I was watching the film, I kept thinking to myself, where were the followers of Jesus on that “Bloody Sunday” morning? As the state troopers were putting on their gas masks, they acknowledged that among the marchers were many Christians. And yet, I wonder where were the white Christians? Were the white Christians of Selma all in their churches that morning worshipping God? Upon hearing the television reports, did they come out and lend a hand to their African American brothers and sisters in the Lord as they were bleeding in the streets?
There were many who saw the events of “Bloody Sunday” unfold before them on their television sets across the world, and some responded by traveling to Alabama to participate in a future attempted march. One of these was a Unitarian Univeralist minister from Boston, James Reeb. Much like the Samaritans in first century Palestine, who were viewed in John 4:19-25 as theologically suspect with their call to worship on Mount Gerizim instead of the correct place, Jerusalem, Unitarian Univeralists fifty years ago as well as today are viewed as being theologically suspect among evangelicals. Yet why was it that someone like James Reeb became a martyr for the civil rights movement when he was beaten to death by white supremacists in Selma, and not a more theologically-sound born again Christian? Is it fair to say as in the story of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10:25-37, that James Reeb was like a modern day “Samaritan?”
My first encounter with Marcus Borg was in a highly recommended book he co-wrote with Anglican scholar N.T. Wright, The Meaning of Jesus: Two Visions. N.T. Wright defended an evangelical orthodox position affirming the virgin birth of Jesus, the divinity of Christ, and the bodily resurrection of the Lord. Marcus Borg denied ALL of these doctrines of the faith, but he nevertheless endeavoured to identify himself as a Christian, something that most evangelicals find incomprehensible. Borg aligned himself with the Jesus Seminar, which was notoriously known to gather together regularly to “vote” on which statements in the Gospels were actually authentic or inauthentic. Evangelical critics of the Jesus Seminar noted that was basically like using a democratic system of decision-making in order to establish what is true versus what is false, relying on the wisdom of man as opposed to the wisdom of God as revealed in inspired, sacred Scripture. Nevertheless, Borg was always rather cordial in his disagreements with his conservative evangelical dialogue partners.
Gospel Coalition author and blogger Derek Rishmawy best describes the Protestant liberal mindset as of “those who can at best recite the creeds with their fingers crossed. Having embraced the various presuppositions of Enlightenment and postmodern thinking, they are skeptical of supernatural claims and often doubt the very idea of objective truth.” Those who identify themselves as “liberal Christians,” like Marcus Borg, can say that they believe in Jesus, but when honestly challenged, their doubts regarding the supernatural get in the way of them having a full confidence of the genuine reality of a personal Lord and Savior in their lives…well, maybe the theologically sophisticated like Marcus Borg can somehow convince themselves, but in my experience the typical pew sitters in a liberal congregation under the influence of Borg and his followers find it difficult to overcome their doubts.
I, on the other hand, contend that there are other ways to address the question of doubt, as opposed to the way Borg sought to do it. While I am sympathetic that doubt is always something that challenges us in our faith, we can nevertheless move through our doubts and have the confident assurance that “If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirt who dwells in you.” (Romans 8:11) … and this is no mere “spiritual” resurrection. It is bodily full and real! Seeking to move through our doubts is part of the journey of personal discipleship behind the purpose of this Veracity blog.
In honor of this friendly liberal critic, it might be worth observing this classic debate between William Lane Craig and Marcus Borg on the topic, “Did Jesus Rise from the Dead?” Though I do not agree with Marcus Borg, it is nevertheless important to learn from this exchange how to challenge this way of thinking in a manner that is gentle and respectful.
Duke University is probably best known for its legendary college basketball team, but perhaps now it will be remembered in a different way. Though founded by Methodists and Quakers in Durham, North Carolina, Duke recently announced that the Muslim student group would be allowed to chant their weekly call-to-prayer from the Duke Chapel bell tower on Fridays. Even though the Chapel also rings its church bells for Christian services on Sundays, the controversy over the chanting of the adhan led the University to rethink its decision to allow the Islamic call-to-prayer in such a demonstrably public manner.
The folks at Duke probably should have contacted some folks at the College of William and Mary before making their initial decision. Alas, the intendedly noble desire to promote religious pluralism and stand against discrimination yet again runs afoul of honoring the historically Christian heritage of these now secularized institutions of higher learning.
I recently finished reading Philip Jenkins’ The Lost History of Christianity, and the incident at Duke made me think of Jenkins’ recounting of historically Christian lands in Africa and Asia having church bells ringing for hundreds of years before the Islamic invasions that began in the late 7th century. Over the centuries, the dhimmi status of the Christian population eventually led to the de-Christianization of these areas. The bells that announced the Christian call to worship were becoming less and less while the Islamic adhan soon dominated the soundscape, as formerly Christian communities were converting to Islam.
Is the situation different now? Duke University surely has a relatively small yet active evangelical Christian presence, but officially the school is only nominally connected to its Methodist and Quaker roots. Do that many Duke students, faculty and staff pay attention to the bells that ring on a Sunday morning? What difference would the Islamic call-to-prayer make on a Friday?
UPDATE: Friday, January 16
This was supposed to be the first day that the Islamic call-to-prayer would be made from bell tower of the historic Duke Chapel, but the university announced that the call-to-prayer will be moved to a different part of campus because of the controversy. Sadly, part of the university’s decision was due to a credible threat of violence. These type of threats should be greatly troubling to the followers of Jesus.
As an aside, the update news article linked above notes that most students at Duke were supportive of the university’s original policy proposal. Is the student support for the call-to-prayer from the Chapel bell tower primarily an indicator of a commitment to religious plurality in public life, or is it partly due to an ignorance of Christian history? I wonder.
Louis Zamperini. Restless young man, U.S. Olympic runner, war hero, and sinner in need of grace who helped to define the era of Billy Graham (early publicity photo)
It was 1949 in Los Angeles. The conservative Christian community had pulled together to put on a multi-week revival under a big tent, featuring a then relatively-unknown Billy Graham. By the end of week three, the organizers were unsure if the revival meetings were to continue. Despite a massive publicity campaign with flyers and newspaper ads, attendance had been rather so-so. Graham and the leadership team decided to pray, asking for God’s guidance on what to do. After much prayer, they decided to go ahead and extend the meetings a few more weeks. But had they done the right thing?
Several weeks later, on week five, a well-known celebrity made his way into the revival tent. Louis Zamperini grew up a restless teenager and became a juvenile delinquent. To give his life some focus and meaning, Zamperini took up running. Eventually, he earned a spot on the United States Olympic team in 1936 in Berlin. World War II dramatically changed his life, where he was shot down over the Pacific and suffered terribly as a Japanese prisoner of war. When Zamperini came back home after the war, his life kept falling apart. After struggling with marriage problems, alcohol abuse, and horrific post-traumatic stress, he entered that revival tent that one evening. He gave his life over to the Lord Jesus Christ, and he spent the rest of his life serving Him.
Zamperini’s conversion to Christ had helped to give Billy Graham and his team a sense of confirmation that extending the revival a few more weeks was the right thing to do. For Graham, the Los Angeles revival gave him international exposure and influence that has continued to last today into Graham’s twilight years.
But what I find even more fascinating is how Zamperini’s story also helps to tell the story of Billy Graham and the generations of believers who have come under his influence. The intersection of Zamperini with Billy Graham was a critical watershed moment for American evangelicalism in the 20th and early 21st centuries. Here is a summary of some correspondence between Graham and Zamperini before Zamperini’s death.
I would be curious to know from other Veracity readers what you have thought of the book and the movie.
HT: John Paine, for the Luke Zamperini story about the Christian faith element in the movie.
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