Chicken McJesus, or, Why Christianity Has Lost Its Voice in America

So, I’m a little late to the train: I can honestly claim almost complete ignorance about this “Chick-Fil-A Appreciation Day” yesterday. Had a very faint idea of what it was about. Now I know the backstory a bit more, and saw the million-whatever-person result. And I gotta say, wow, yeah, that is a textbook example of First Amendment free-speech rights in action. Kudos. What it also says to me is that those million-whatever evangelical Christians who took part in the exercise are probably better off keeping their faces stuffed with chicken sandwiches, because they basically have nothing good to say about anything anymore.

No, really. Don’t tell me that Jesus loves me, this you know, for the Bible tells you so. Because if you were actually listening to what the Bible tells you is so, you wouldn’t have been standing in line at a chicken shack to spend your hard-earned cash on a double-McWhopperbreast or whatever it is they serve at Chick-fil-A. (I also have to claim almost complete ignorance of their menu; while I’ve had their food and liked it, I don’t live in their market. I live in the godless and healthy state of Minnesota).

I’d really like to think that if you, the millions of Chick-fil-A Christians, were going to decide to do something together to “make a statement” or “take a stand” in the world, it would be to take that four, or five, or six dollars and pool it together to feed some hungry people, like the ones that exist in ever-growing numbers in your own nation. Or maybe you could take the time you’re spending standing in line and go make friends with someone a little different than you? Possibly even of a different sexual orientation than yourself? There are needy, lonely, self-destructing people in this world who need you - yes, YOU - to be their friend. And maybe you’re not the most social type of person; you could at least take a stand for the rights of the downtrodden, the made-fun-of, the ones whose humanity is being stifled. You know, be Jesus to people.

Instead, you’ve truly chosen to put your money where your mouth is. I was taught in church (usually as a come-on to give more money to said church) that you can judge your own values by where you give your money and spend your time. I sort of still believe that. And, by that measure you’ve chosen to give your money to a multi-billion dollar company that specializes in serving food processed in mass quantities that is terrible for yours and the public’s general health, made of meat from a living thing that is usually raised like a crop, treated cruelly and often infected with disease from the aforementioned mistreatment, so that you can support a multi-millionaire who really doesn’t need your money because he said some things about gay people inviting God’s wrath onto our nation. Some things that you happen to agree with, because you feel like God is under attack or whatever.

So, look, I don’t claim to be a Bible expert (I only did one year of Bible school, after all, and that didn’t turn out very well), but I’m pretty sure that God doesn’t feel “under attack” by gay people. I’m reasonably certain that your little “stand” means next to nothing. And I’m completely positive that God has about a million bajillion other things you could do for him in the world besides eating an effing chicken sandwich.

Because really, that’s what your faith has come down to. You no longer believe in the transformational power of reconciliation that this Bible you profess to listen to talks about over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over again. You have no interest in humanity, no care for “all God’s people,” and no desire to act to improve God’s creation. You are now just willing slaves to a series of cultural precepts and anecdotes, usurped by a social and political agenda that has absolutely zero to do with loving other people and caring for the least among us and more to do with protecting this thing, running afraid from that thing, and making sure that the MOST among us feel well-loved and whose every desire is accommodated as God’s will. You don’t believe in the power of your Christ to heal people; you instead rely on the pre-ordained superiority of your twelve-step plan and the vast, shallow numbers you claim in your ranks to spread its influence with jingoistic zealotry. You would rather tear people down (and in the stupidest of ways, mind you) than be a support system for those without one.

In short, you no longer speak for God. In case there was any question about it, your moral authority flatlined on August 1, 2012. Your heart stopped beating from the self-aggrandizement that clogged your arteries. And your tombstone shall forever read:

“God called me unto the world, and I ate chicken.”

A Few Plain Thoughts on the 5-Year Anniversary of the 35W Bridge Collapse

On the evening of August 1, 2007 I got a call from my brother telling me to turn on my TV, the bridge over the Mississippi just went down. “Which one?” I asked. “Washington Avenue? Not sure.” I turned on the TV to ‘CCO and there before me was the big, green, ugly 35W bridge that I had driven over so many times that it was a mindless exercise.

And it was in the river.

“Holy sh*t... what the hell? What the HELL?? Uhh... I’ll call you back.”

It took me quite awhile to understand what I was seeing. And then I remember starting to cry, watching the people on the bridge, in the water, on the banks, and the smoke pouring out of that school bus, and I remember just saying over and over again “My city... my city...”

I called my wife, who was out on the road at that moment heading to Blaine or something, just to make sure she hadn’t decided to take that way for whatever reason on this evening. Then I called my job to inform them of the incident and see if they’d heard from anyone. I texted all my friends. A few minutes later, my manager called me. Doing a head count of everyone at the store. To make sure no one had died.

And I think we forget all about that. 13 souls died that day. The thing I’ve learned is that Minnesotans sort of have the tendency to internalize painful experiences. The public expression of this, then, is to sweep unpleasant things under the rug, pretend they’re not there. Give them their due moment and then go back to being with family and friends. But don’t dwell; that’s not healthy. Keep it positive. And if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. So we don’t talk about 13 dead humans and put them in their proper context of dying on a bridge that we as a society are charged with upkeeping.

Well, I didn’t grow up here. I’m a dweller, and sometimes I don’t just say nice, positive things.

So I guess I’ll just say it: five years later, I still don’t think we particularly care that 13 people died in the 35W bridge collapse. I think we probably care less. We had a really great memorial service. And then a public processional a year afterward. And then we had a new bridge. (Months early and millions under budget! Taxpayers rejoice!) And then, after a few years of politicking over whether or not we really needed to memorialize this thing further, we finally erected a monument to those 13 people who purposelessly lost their lives in the wreckage. And then a few weeks after it opened, someone vandalized it.

But the real crime? We haven’t invested another dime into our infrastructure. No, seriously: after this all went down, we had to friggin’ fight tooth and nail to invest a NICKEL (a 5% gas tax increase) into our infrastructure. People are dying on our failing bridges and overcrowded highways, and we’re too busy talking about what? What are the new distractions this year? Voter ID? Gay marriage? Arguing over a 3.5% tax hike on people whose net worth increases at such a rate that they could, in the time it would take them to drive across the Mississippi that day, pay for two or three 35W bridge replacements? Oh, and we also just wrapped up the argument over whether or not you and I should spend three times (or four, maybe five?) the cost of that replacement bridge on a shiny new football stadium. For people whose contracts dictate that every time they touch the football, they earn enough money to...

I digress.

But seriously, folks, what gives?

For me, 13 dead people on a bridge made me stop, think, and seriously evaluate what was going on with this whole system. In a very real way, that could have just as easily been ME on that bridge. And it made me want to act, to DO something, because I knew (somewhat cynically but also, in hindsight, sadly true) that basically nobody would do anything about it. I felt moved to get to know the politics, the policies, the environment, and yeah, gain a vision for how on earth we can prevent this sort of thing from happening. The following winter, after a few years of sitting it out, I started to pry myself away from my comfy little coffee shop job and get back to work finishing up school. And five years later, I’ve graduated from the University of Minnesota.

My degree? A Bachelor of Science in Urban Studies, with an emphasis in Infrastructure and Environment. And minors in Political Science, Sustainability Studies, and Geography. To, as they say, boot.

So I feel I’m standing on fairly confident ground when I say, yeah, I care that 13 people died on August 1, 2007. I won’t be so insensitive as to suggest that, somehow, I’ve “honored” each of their deaths by going and getting all learned-up or whatever. There is no fancy, foil-embossed piece of paper on my wall, no policy, no political party that can bring those 13 people back to life for their families and friends. But the barest-minimum, very least thing we can do is try to prevent it from happening again.

And 5 years later, my “expert” opinion? We’re not even willing to do that.

Because it’d be super-expensive. All those bridges to repair and rebuild, roads to maintain, and transit systems to expand. We can’t even begin to imagine the price tag, nor do we want to, because we know it’s super-expensive. And where are we going to get the tax dollars, anyway? Aren’t we busy giving them to “job creators”? This is all too super-expensive and mind-numbing, let’s go talk about voter ID and gay marriage. Those are simpler and don’t cost anything*. (*note: they totally do.)

And I think that’s where the rubber meets the proverbial road: cost. We think things “cost” too much. Roads. Trains. Health care. Social Security. Welfare. We all flip. the heck. out. over some imaginary public purse that we personally put all our hard-earned money into and then self-righteously pontificate when some other person - probably you, you lazy freeloader - takes it all out and spends it on pointless things like Cheetos, cigarettes, and public art. And then we go and vote for people who we believe will “cost” us the least. And usually, they do. Or at least, they don’t raise our taxes. I mean, sure, they give away the taxes we HAVE paid to upper-crust tax cuts, onerous voter identification systems, and millionaire football playgrounds...

Again, digression. Sorry ‘bout that.

So, here’s my simple proposal. We need some other currency with which to calculate the “cost” of everything, ‘cuz this whole argument over money is getting endlessly pointless. In fact, I’ve just given away my proposal: we should calculate the cost of our policies with something NOT endless and NOT pointless.

Like, say, human life.

In the state of Minnesota, by this calculation, our failure to properly maintain our infrastructure has cost us, already, at least 13 human lives. Gone, spent.

Our failure to properly regulate firearms and offer adequate mental health support, among other things?

Why, that cost us 12 lives just a few days ago.

Failure to provide adequate health insurance and medical services to people?

Better go grab a few Wall Street number-crunchers to calculate that one.

Maybe this thought exercise is a teense overwrought, but you get the idea. Policy affects people. I’d go so far as to say that policy IS people. And here comes the SUPER overwrought part, for I wouldn’t be worth my salt as a liberal arts grad if I didn’t dig in to the classical languages: those first four letters - “poli” - are, after all, rooted from the Greek word for “city” or “body of citizens”. Or, my personal favorite, “community”.

Policy is people, my friend.

Surely a word with such ancient roots must have seen a lot of use over the years. My gut feeling - and quite cursory knowledge of history - leads me to believe that over the years, when policy is used for self-focused line items instead of systemic, poli-focused initiatives, these cities, bodies of citizens, communities, whatever... they don’t last long. When people start counting the cost of policies according to, say, money and not human lives, we not only create disintegrative policy, we cheapen life itself through those policies. And right now in Minnesota, as in America, human life can probably be found in the penny section of the Bargain Nook in any number of thrift stores in the shadiest parts of town*. (*note: No thrift stores were offended during the construction of this sentence.*) (*note to the note: I love thrift stores. Shop ‘em all the time.)

If you’ve stayed with me this long, and are familiar with my ranting style, you know I’m going to wrap this up soon and that in the next few sentences there will be some sort of, as they say in the not-for-profit advocacy world, an “action item”. But I’m going to throw a curveball, and say:

By all means, don’t do anything. For real. Carry on. No harm, no foul, right?

Because the more we don’t do anything, the more we believe that policy is pointless, that the government is the problem, that the cost is too high to take care of one another by making sure our bridges don’t fall, the less it will cost us.

And the more people we will drown at the bottom of the Mississippi.

Then we’ll call each other when terrible things happen, watch them unfold on live TV, act all surprised for about a week, maybe build a monument if it was particularly shocking, and then forget about it until the next terrible thing happens.

Sadly, I think we’re totally okay with that.

But please, feel free - since it’s always about freedom - to prove me wrong.

Back to Blogging Again

Well, here we go again. I took a few years off from this thing to focus on school.

Okay, that's not entirely true. I didn't actually make a conscious decision NOT to write here these past three-plus years, it's just that when you are taking 15-17 credits per semester, acting as the president of your student group, bringing a baby into the world, working an internship, hunting for a job, and going through the arduous process of buying a home, in addition to all the other things that happen in life on a daily basis, you just don't have the luxury of writing your thoughts down on paper. Or e-per, whatever this is.

But that doesn't mean the thoughts haven't stopped. So here, today, I'm re-booting. Politics, policy, religion, silly things, random observations... it'll be just like old times!