Sun 2 Nov 2008
Sarah Palin, Spiritual Warfare, You and Me
Posted by Robert "Voluptuous" Thompson under Religion and Politics
1 Comment
Laurie Goodstein of the New York Times recently reported that Sarah Palin’s version of Pentecostalism is rooted in the notion of ‘spiritual warfare.’
Goodstein refers to George Otis Jr., president of the Sentinel Group which has produced video documentaries about spiritual warfare at work. “The term spiritual warfare sounds scary as all get-out if you’re not biblically literate…it’s taken from the sixth chapter of Ephesians, which talks about the weapons of our warfare are not of this world, which means we don’t respond with guns or violence. If we’ve got a problem with somebody we’ll go and pray,” says Otis.
I appreciate George Otis trying to make ‘spiritual warfare’ more palatable. I know a little about the Bible and it’s pretty clear that God and the Devil are pitted throughout in a cosmic power struggle. Sometimes the mythic wrangling breaks out in armed conflict.
It is a logical conclusion to the idea of ‘spiritual warfare’ that sometimes there is no other choice but to go to war. It wasn’t all that long ago that President George W. Bush said that “God told me to end the tyranny in Iraq.”
God told me to go to war so I have to do it.
However defined, warfare is no Sunday school picnic. You go to war to overcome your enemy. You go to war to dominate. You go to war because you cannot trust the world. There is always some boogeyman around the next corner—there are demons you cannot see and powers and principalities that seek to do you ill. Pray that God will dominate these evil forces and failing that, take up your sword and slay the evil dragon.
In a hostile universe spiritual warfare is a means to an end. The word warfare implies that hostility and violence may be necessary. First, we put on the full armor of God in prayer. The belt of truth and the breastplate of righteousness reinvigorates our virtue. While seeking to dominate the evil one (in whatever form) we proclaim the gospel of peace.
The problem with the spiritual warfare metaphor is that it implies that violence, though regrettable, is often redemptive. Theologian Walter Wink puts it like this. “The gods favor those who conquer…Religion exists to legitimate power and privilege. Life is combat…ours is neither a perfect or perfectible world; it is the theatre of perpetual conflict in which the prize goes to the strong. Peace through war; security through strength: these are the core convictions that arise from this ancient historical religion, and they form the solid bedrock on which the Domination System is founded in every society.”
Do I see this destructive, dominating and absolutist mindset in Sarah Palin?
You betcha!
It’s like Ms. Palin is vying to be a cute Dick Cheney upgrade.
Not only do I detest Sarah Palin’s religious perspective, I detest it so much that it spills over into how I feel about Sarah Palin. I would like to call her out, shout her down and tell her that her gun toting, moose shooting, dogma spouting ways are utterly medieval and ultimately destructive. I hate the notion of spiritual warfare and I want to stamp it out in anyone who spouts it.
Oops!
It turns out the very qualities I abhor in her are also in me.
I want to put her down, push her out—dominate her if necessary. She’s wrong. I am right. She’s bad. I am good. It’s the same game.
Damn.
Good verses evil. You are with us or against us. Be it personal or global, the simplistic and absolutist way of thinking inevitably leads to violence and war.
Peace on the other hand, is rooted in our ability to embrace the ambiguous. I am right but sometimes I am wrong. You are wrong but sometimes you are right. Unless we make room for ambiguity among us we inevitably end up making war between us.
It turns out that warfare, spiritual or otherwise is not only destructive but also self-destructive. We need new metaphors for what it means to be spiritual, for what it means to be human.
The late Illinois Senator Paul Simon used to tell the story about a Special Olympics over which he presided. He told this story many times, and every time he told it he could scarcely finish it because it choked him up so.
In the story, disabled runners assemble at the starting line. The gun sounds and the racers sprint. About a third of the way through the race, one of the runners falls. The crowd gasps. With utter spontaneity, the rest of the runners stop in their tracks. They look in horror at the one who had fallen. Then, one by one, of their own accord, they turn around and slowly make their way back to help the fallen runner to his feet. They get him up and the race continues, with all of them running arm in arm to the finish line. They finish the race together. They recognize their inter-connectedness. They are all winners.
We all fall. We all suffer. We are all on the right track and we are all on the wrong track. Whatever path we’re on we are all called to a greater vision called by the Spirit to move beyond our suffering, to join hands and help each other to the finish line.
So how can I recognize my inter-connectedness with Sarah Palin? That’s a tall order.
For now, all I can do is say, okay sister, I’ll take you by the hand and hope and pray that one day we will see that we’re both in this together.